Latest Posts by lushrooms - Page 5
To Whom It May Concern
It has come to my attention that some of you have been enjoying media that the OAF (Organization Against Fun) has deemed Problematic™.
This is unacceptable.
The frankly appalling behavior in question is exemplified by, but not limited to, engaging with themes not suitable for five year olds, speaking about or writing complex characters without constantly emphasizing how evil they are, and creating fanworks that do not appeal to me personally without asking for my permission or begging for my forgiveness.
Since you people do not possess my superior intellect, you have thus misinterpreted the phrase "thinking critically" to mean "analyzing and interpreting a work" instead of the correct definition "nitpicking perceived flaws". Fear not, you will be re-educated.
Aditionally, certain individuals, who shall remain unnamed, have displayed shocking amounts of empathy towards morally grey characters, or worse, developed a fondness for villainous characters who were written to be charming and dramatic. When confronted with my lecture about how villains are evil, these individuals responded with "and that's very sexy of them."
The OAF cannot let this stand.
Instead of shipping Woke™ ships with a far less interesting dynamic, there have been various attempts to normalize, romanticize, fetishize, realize and caramelize illegal ships, which should be punishable by death as it is tantamount to a war crime.
Sadly, the AO3 (Archive of Our Own) responded to my reasonable demands for censorship by telling me to "fuck off or learn to use the tagging system for its intended purpose."
I must ask all who are currently having fun in their fandoms to cease and desist.
Won't somebody think of the children.
Things I Will Never Tire of in Drarry Fics
Some of these are Drarry cliches, some of these are just things I love. And in no particular order. Enjoy, and add your own!
CW: one reference to sex
"Scared Potter?" or "Scared Malfoy" followed by, of course, "You wish." Bonus points if they're about to duel as adults, like in Auror training or something
Draco wearing eyeliner and/or leather pants
Ron being like "I really don't care that you're gay, but Malfoy??"
Pushing each other against a wall in a fight that turns into a kiss (yes, I know, classic Enemies to Lovers but I like it at Hogwarts specifically)
Harry teaching Draco to cast a Patronus and it turns out to be a stag
Party games, party games, party games, party games
Literally almost anything eighth year
When 'Potter' becomes 'Harry,' and 'Malfoy' becomes 'Draco.' But they still call each other Potter and Malfoy when they're teasing and during sex
Pansy and Hermione scheming to get them together
Auror partners!!
I love mutual pining, but especially Draco POV pining for years and years, especially when Harry grows up and just gets ripped and gorgeous and Draco practically drools at the sight of him
Oblivious!Harry realizing he's been wanting Draco forever
Harry apologizing for Sectumsempra
Kissing in the Great Hall to come out to everyone
Ron and Draco becoming friends!! Draco being the only one who can beat him at chess
Hermione and Draco bonding over books and nerdy stuff
Their friends having debates over who was more obsessed with the other--bonus points if it is hearing this debate that gets them together/helps them see that the other likes him back
Smelling each other in Amortentia!!
Draco in Weasley sweaters!!
Harry returning Draco's wand after the war
H/C after nightmares
Draco being the only one (other than Harry's friends ofc) willing to call him out/be real with him
Narcissa and Harry friendship!!
Lucius Malfoy bashing
Handshake, handshake, handshake, handshake--especially as adults and especially if Harry initiates it and Draco hesitates in surprise before finally taking it
“I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion– I have shuddered at it, I shudder no more. I could be martyred for my religion. Love is my religion and I could die for that. I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.” ― John Keats
tfw your fugitive ex breaks out of Azkaban
A little gift for @fw00shy 💓 a microfic written entirely in three word sentences. Also for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: blue.
2 August 2006. Department of Mysteries.
“Shouldn’t be here.” Draco sounds wary.
“Fuck off, Malfoy.” Harry laughs, loud. “Azkaban released me.” He smiles wryly. “Didn’t you hear?”
“You escaped, Potter.” Draco’s voice heats. “In broad daylight. Bit dangerous, really.”
“Yeah,” Harry grins. “Slaughtered sixty-two dementors. And Warden Umbridge.” He leans in. So, so close. Mouths Draco’s throat. “You miss me?” Voice muffled, gruff.
Draco’s eyes close. His shoulders slack. Relax, dip low. He breathes deep. “Not at all.” His eyes open. They’re dark, guarded. And he stiffens. “You’re not good. Potter, you’re not.”
Harry pulls back. “Careful,” he says. “I’d kill you. If I wanted.”
“Kill me then.”
Yet Harry falters. His lips part.
Draco’s mouth twists. “You wouldn’t, Potter.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t.” Harry laughs again. Shakes his head. Looks at him. “You look good. Draco, you do.”
“Thanks,” Draco says. He smiles unhappily. Gestures to himself. “I’ve gone official. Bloody Ministry official.”
Harry reaches out. Traces Draco’s collar. “Wearing Ministry blues. Who would’ve thought.” He grins, crooked. “Unspeakable Malfoy, yeah? Shouldn’t trust you.”
“Fuck you, Harry.” Draco eyes him. Voice rough, quiet. “Alright, I did. I missed you. Just a bit.”
“Didn’t visit me.”
“Didn’t want to. That first time… You looked dead.”
And Harry sobers. “Yeah, I know.” Harry watches him. Face cut-up, bloody. “Nicked a Portkey. To the tropics.” He smiles grimly. “I’m going away.”
Draco breathes in. “DMLE’s tracing them. They’ll find you.”
“Unregistered,” Harry says. “Sounds fun, yeah? Us, the ocean.” He laughs, gruff. “Come with me.”
“Merlin,” Draco says. Voice sharp, clipped. “It’s been years.”
“Only been three.” Harry looks down. “Still love you.” Closes his eyes. Takes a breath. Opens them slowly. “Prisoners are plotting. Ministry’s gone bad. We should leave.”
Draco pauses, considering. Bites his lip. “I’ve heard things. Whispers of things. I didn’t know…” Looks at Harry. “… who to believe. But now, I…”
“What is it?” Harry’s voice drops. Sounds low, gentle.
“I trust you.” Draco leans in. Thumbs Harry’s mouth. “Wish I didn’t. But I do.” Traces Harry’s lips.
Doors slam open. Voices yelling—loud, frantic. “Target in building. Agents, get ready.”
“Fuck,” Harry mutters. “Not enough time. I’ve gotta go.” Turns to Draco. “Coming with me?”
“Bloody hell, Potter. Yes,” Draco says. “Get the Portkey.”
the weed which strings the hangman's bag, by peachpety
A gift for @gryffindorhearts
A Wheel of Drarry Mini-Exchange 2.0
* * *
Rating: M || TW blood & injury || angst; hopeful ending; mild hurt/comfort; smoking
Lightning flickers in the clouds above the narrow alleyway. Harry counts three Godric’s-Hollows before the boom of thunder rattles his bones. The storm approaches quickly; the last gap had been five. He pulls up his hood, muscling a shiver into submission at the caress of soft cotton against his shorn scalp.
He had been slouched at the kitchen table, his curls a dark scattering of commas on the table around him, carving stripes into the label of an empty beer bottle with the shears, when the folded crane note had flitted through Grimmauld’s kitchen window.
Gallows | 20:37
His upended chair hadn’t even hit the floor before he Apparated.
Wind howls through the pub’s alleyway like the hollow note singing from the bottleneck of a stout. Another lightning strike bleaches Harry’s vision, but it’s the crack of Apparition a moment later that shocks him. His magic eddies in his palms, coiled and ready.
Thunder rolls, and Malfoy steps from the shadows, an agonizing emergence, each step a revelation that he’s alive—a scarred Chelsea boot, soft-worn jeans sagging below a Ramones t-shirt, his blond hair.
Alive, not dead.
Relief softens Harry’s muscles, followed quickly by clenching anger. “It’s been a fucking month.”
Malfoy chuckles blithely. “It’s good to see you, too, Potter,” he says.
Harry intentionally limited interactions with his undercover agents, but this was borderline negligence. And insubordinate and dangerous and...
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck me yourself.”
Harry's shoulders relax. “You wish.”
Malfoy leans against the opposite brick wall. He lolls his head back and juts his hips forward, watching Harry with hooded eyes. The cigarette tucked behind his ear flits into his hand, and he lights it with the snap of a Muggle lighter. The flame’s glow highlights his knuckles, mangled and bloody.
Harry’s magic spikes, warming his fingertips. “You’re hurt.” He reaches for Malfoy’s hand.
Malfoy jerks his arm away. “Don’t.”
“It looks fractured.”
“It is.” Malfoy cinches his grin around the cigarette, inhaling his cheeks hollow.
Harry exhales a curse. He used to believe that Malfoy bloodied and beaten was retribution, that his broken bones were recompense. It had happened often enough at the hands of fellow trainees, and once by Harry. Only once. Instead of vindication, he’d felt as he does now—nauseated and repentant at the realization that he was the only one who could beat life into eyes as dead as slate.
“I have the information,” Draco announces.
Harry straightens. “I’ll take you in,” he says in a rush. “We can debrief Robards—”
“No.”
Harry frowns. He’d been warned by his superiors, cautious tales of undercover Aurors gone rogue, good men and women who got too involved, who couldn’t separate the job from reality.
“There’s another meeting next month,” Malfoy says. “Bigger fish.”
The clouds light up, revealing Malfoy’s face in a kinetoscope series of flashes—earnest, focused, resolute. Like that day in Robards' office when he demanded to be given the mission and Harry was assigned point. Like later that same day in the showers when Harry was on his knees and Malfoy moaned Harry’s name like a prayer.
He’d left on assignment an hour later.
Smoke curls from the tip of Malfoy’s cigarette, an ephemeral rope cast asunder by the wind, as murky as the puddles peppering the cobblestones between them. Slick film coats the water’s grey surface, shiny with misshapen rainbows.
Like Malfoy’s eyes, Harry thinks madly. Alive, not dead. Alive, not dead.
“There are other Aurors—” he begins.
“This goes deeper in the organization than we thought—”
Harry’s plea raises his voice over Malfoy’s. “Others who can do this—”
“I can do this—”
“No!”
A flash and a boom announces the storm’s arrival seconds before the sky opens up.
Malfoy narrows his eyes, mouth twisting in the rain. “You think I can’t—”
“Of course you can!” Harry slumps against the wall. The bricks dig into his shoulder blades. “You’re the best agent the Ministry’s seen since the First War.” He punches his hands into his hoodie pocket and finds a siege of paper cranes. He wads them in his fist. “You’re”—brilliant, insufferable, everything—”a twat.”
Malfoy stares. Rain pelts his face and drips from his eyelashes. He summons a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and in two steps he’s in front of Harry, Amazonian-tall and weed-thin. A crescent bruise mars his cheekbone.
“I only have one left,” Malfoy says softly. Blood pools in the inner white of his eye. It’s shaped like a heart, and Harry wants to drown in it.
“I don’t smoke.”
“Hey, blondie,” a greasy voice cuts through the rain. A Muggle bloke stands nearby—too close, Harry thinks. The man sways in a drunken cloud of stale beer. “You got a cigarette for me?” He licks his lips, leering at Malfoy, and Harry’s magical hackles rise.
Malfoy moves as if to offer, and Harry yanks his hand from his pocket, littering the stones with papers. He digs the cigarette out of the pack and puts it in his mouth. The taste is sharp and biting.
The drunk shuffles away. Harry wrinkles his nose and the stones beneath the man’s feet lift to trip him.
A sly grin slides onto Malfoy’s face. He crowds in closer, igniting the Muggle lighter, protecting the flame from the rain with a bubble of dry magic from his elegant broken hand. Harry cups his hand over Malfoy’s. His healing magic leaches into pale skin, knitting sinew and bone. With a deep inhale, he draws the flame onto the cigarette, smoke into his lungs, only to collapse into a coughing fit.
Malfoy’s smirk softens, and he sweeps his gaze over Harry’s face. He pauses, eyebrows furrowed, and in a swift movement he yanks the hoodie off Harry’s head. Rain wets Harry’s scalp, a pitter-pat beat matching Malfoy’s deepening inhales and exhales.
“Harry.”
“It’s been a month,” Harry rasps. “A fucking month.” He drops his gaze to his own feet. He’s not wearing shoes.
Malfoy vanishes the cigarettes and draws Harry to him with a firm hand to the back of Harry’s neck. Harry goes easily, melting into Malfoy’s comforting solidity and warming magic, tension slackening like a stayed hangman’s rope.
Alive, not dead.
“It’ll grow back by morning,” he mutters into Malfoy’s shoulder. “It always does.”
Draco chuckles. “Good. We can’t have you looking like a naked mole rat when we debrief Robards tomorrow, now can we?”
Harry’s heart shudders in his chest like paper cranes in the rain. “Fuck you.”
Malfoy guides Harry’s face to whisper against his lips, “Fuck me yourself.”
And he kisses Harry’s smile.
* * *
For the brilliant and wonderful @gryffindorhearts! It's been a long time coming and I apologize for making you wait, but FINALLY here is your gift! Writing this was an entire journey...and while the fic is short, the path was long and I thank you for your patience in allowing me to travel at my own pace.
Big thanks to toluene and @wheezykat for the beta & encouragement. It takes a village y'all and I'm blessed.
Thanks to @hogwartsfirebolt and @drarrymicrofic for this gift exchange - it's wonderful!
READ ON AO3
every time I see more of the ‘ao3 is evil’ crap circulating I think, ‘well, tumblr is evil too and I don’t see you stop using it’
what forms of art, activism, and literature can speak authentically today?
when you want to beat each other up but also wish to be boyfriends?? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ tricky
I suppose it’s a testament to Tolkien’s economy of language that the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy – interminable preamble and endless appendices and all – has a smaller total page count than the individual books of your average modern doorstopper fantasy series, yet manages to pack in such a high density of worldbuilding detail that reading it feels like it takes about a thousand years.
me consuming fictional work after fictional work to distract myself from the fact that i exist: i can have little a escapism. as a treat.
i still can’t get over the fact that you don’t need parental permission to be in the triwizard tournament, but you do to go into the next town
I just want my OTP to derrive meaning from each other in a way that would be incredibly unhealthy and codependent if two people did that in real life but is profoundly poetic and romantic within the context of a fictional piece of media in consuming.
Remembering the War: It doesn't get easier as the years go by. But at least they have each other.
Created for the Drarry Discord Server's Drawble Challenge, March 2020. Thanks go to this month's hosts, @potter-art and @ana-iliad.
Prompt: 'Remember when...'.
Art restriction: Earth tones/browns.
on anti culture & how narrative influences reality
So look.
A common point of discourse from anti-shippers is the fact that narrative influences reality, and therefore - they claim - depictions of harmful acts will have a normalizing effect on how real people perceive those acts outside of fiction. The problem with this claim is that, while there is evidence for the idea that narrative can indeed influence reality, it’s a gross distortion of fact to say that it does so in the specific way they mean.
Read on below the cut:
Keep reading
before I desided to draw smth with naruto I was drawing a little series with drarry and porn hands, there’re my fav pics from it, maybe I’ll finish it lateeeer
are you living or are you just jumping from one obsession to the other to run away from yourself
List of Quidditch rules, pinned in the Gryffindor changing room.
1. No hexes or jinxes! McGonagall WILL dock house points!
2. Put your equipment back, gits. The school elves have complained twice already.
3. Don’t showboat, people! Nobody needs to see you hanging off your broomstick.
4. Snogging the Slytherins is strictly, and entirely FORBIDDEN. This means you, Harry Potter!
💥
For the @drarrymicrofic prompt of forbidden. As always, brilliant fun.
Ron groaned and buried his face in his arms. Across the crowded common room, his best friend had just interrupted what appeared to be a rather impassioned rant by a certain dramatic blond prat by kissing him square on the mouth. It was, horrifically, an extremely effective strategy.
When she saw the source of his distress, Hermione reached over, patting him on the head in what was probably intended to be a comforting gesture. “At least it’s better than fighting,” she said conciliatorily.
Ron glanced back up to see that the pair were now snogging enthusiastically and grimaced.
“Is it?”
For the @drarrymicrofic prompt Better Than Fighting
Holy, holy, holy
Change of tactics
Split lips, rough kisses.
Bruised knuckles, tight grips.
Against the door, against the wall, against each other.
“Better?” Harry asked.
Draco bit down hard. “Define better.”
Harry’s fists clenched, even as he dragged Draco closer. This was new—different, but the same, in some ways—and habits were hard to shake.
“This.”
Inspired by @drarrymicrofic’s prompt ‘better than fighting’