She/Her | Drarry | Hollanov | Hufflepuff | 18+ | fuck JKR | check my pinned post for AO3 linkĀ | reblogs are loved, please don't repostĀ | side blog for drarry recs: @drarry-fic-ramblingĀ | personal/random posting side blog: @pheeby-deeby | cover art AND profile pic by the incredible Joy (@ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm).Ā |Ā Ā
Hello everyone! Here are some facts about me and this blog :)
My name is Phoebe, though my friends have come up with all manner of nicknames for me, and I love them very much (both my friends and the nicknames). I use she/her pronouns, and I'm (many years) over 18 (Also, while I'm at it, this blog is 18+ so minors DNI please!)
I do not support JKR or her views whatsoever. (If you care to know more: I don't buy merch, the books, video games, steam the movies, or put my money in her pocket. I also will not be watching the HBO show. I only engage with fan-controlled, non-monetized spaces like tumblr and AO3. Queer and trans people deserve love, safety, security, healthcare, privacy, and the same rights as anyone else).
I also do NOT use Generative AI (Even if I didn't have numerous ethical problems with it, I also just love writing and creating too much to let a machine do it for me!! My em dashes are all my own, folks!) I will also never knowingly promote anything derived by AI, so if you see me do so by mistake please kindly let me know.
SALS, KINKTOMATO, DLDR
This blog is a safe space, for you AND for me, so please be kind!
Please feel free to translate, podfic, or make art for anything I write (but please please tag me so I can see it!!!)
But please don't write sequels, prequels, or any kind of continuations of my work (And, if it's not obvious from before, never ever use AI in the creation of any art, podfics or translations of my fanwork.)
Reblog; don't repost š
Please feel free to send a prompt request if you want, but please don't have any expectations. Not everything inspires me. Sometimes it takes a while to inspire me, sometimes I'm in a writing slump, sometimes I'm swamped with other WIPS or Real Life. (We're talking potentially years, y'all. No joke I've saved prompts and filled them actual calendar years later. If you really want to send one, you're more than welcome to, but I'm just setting expectations low š).
Side blog where I post random thoughts: @pheeby-deeby
Side blog where YOU can submit a rec of YOUR favorite Drarry fic(s): @drarry-fic-rambling (details are on that page)
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I think Lucius Malfoy was just as obsessed with his own father as Draco is with him.
Just as obsessed with seeking his praise. Just as determined to "prove him wrong" about his constant criticism. I think Lucius frequently tells Draco that he treats him far better than his own father did himāand the sad thing is, he's not wrong.
Lucius is bitter to the very end about his relationship with his father. He never felt he was good enough. He makes a point to praise Draco more than his father did himāand never without making sure Draco knows that Lucius himself never got such treatment. (Draco only knows his paternal grandfather from Lucius's stories about him and from the portrait that scowls down from the drawing room wall, so he's inclined to believe it.)
I think that, as a child, Draco chases Lucius's approval as the only form of affection he receives. As a teenager, he's pursuing it even harder, though resentment is starting to build as he comes to the realization that nothing he does is ever good enough to be praised without qualificationāor, if it is, it's not good enough for very long.
After the war, he's driven by anger more than anything else, though the child in him will always crave the affection he never received. He is determined to be successful in spite of his father. In fact, he wants to go farther than Lucius did; to out-do him by every measure.
And it isn't until one sleepless night that Draco realizes: The only way Draco can "defeat" his father is by no longer trying to.
By being the first Malfoy in at least a generation to decide to live his life not for his father's gratification, but for his own.
Itās Dracoās birthday. Itās also the one-year anniversary of their first shag, in that dingy nightclub loo. He felt victorious, then.
At midnight Draco downs the bottle of wine, puts away the good silver unused. Wonders, not for the first time, if Potterās wife knows what a fruit fork is.
prompt from @drarrymicrofic | my Drarry microfic collection on Ao3
I think Lucius Malfoy was just as obsessed with his own father as Draco is with him.
Just as obsessed with seeking his praise. Just as determined to "prove him wrong" about his constant criticism. I think Lucius frequently tells Draco that he treats him far better than his own father did himāand the sad thing is, he's not wrong.
Lucius is bitter to the very end about his relationship with his father. He never felt he was good enough. He makes a point to praise Draco more than his father did himāand never without making sure Draco knows that Lucius himself never got such treatment. (Draco only knows his paternal grandfather from Lucius's stories about him and from the portrait that scowls down from the drawing room wall, so he's inclined to believe it.)
I think that, as a child, Draco chases Lucius's approval as the only form of affection he receives. As a teenager, he's pursuing it even harder, though resentment is starting to build as he comes to the realization that nothing he does is ever good enough to be praised without qualificationāor, if it is, it's not good enough for very long.
After the war, he's driven by anger more than anything else, though the child in him will always crave the affection he never received. He is determined to be successful in spite of his father. In fact, he wants to go farther than Lucius did; to out-do him by every measure.
And it isn't until one sleepless night that Draco realizes: The only way Draco can "defeat" his father is by no longer trying to.
By being the first Malfoy in at least a generation to decide to live his life not for his father's gratification, but for his own.
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Ok, what if when two soulmates happen to be in front of a mirror at the same time they can see each other? It starts almost immediately so Shane at three or four is sitting on his parents' bed watching his mother get ready and instead of himself he sees another little boy with a halo of curls. They stare at each other. Shane, confused, waves. His wrong reflection does not wave with him. The other boy tilts his head and blinks in confusion. His mother doesn't notice. After a beat, the other boy pulls a face at him and sticks out his tongue. Purely on instinct, Shane sticks his tongue back out at him. They both laugh and then the other little boy freezes and runs off. Shane's reflection returns.
"What's funny, baby?" his mother asks.
"Nothing." Shane says because he has no idea what that was.
It takes awhile for happenstance to strike again, and even then it's only glimpses for awhile. Then at ten, they move and Shane has his own bathroom with a big mirror. Sometimes when he's getting ready for school in the morning, brushing his teeth, the other boy is there instead, but he's dressed like he's going to bed. By now, Shane has heard about soulmates, he wonders if the other boy has too. So Shane mouths 'hi'. The other boy frowns and mouths back something else entirely. When Shane shakes his head, the boy wrinkles his nose. It takes a few tries before Shane painstakingly writes a message out backwards and show it to the mirror 'My name is Shane. I speak English. You?'
The other boy stares at the words, frowns and then runs off. Shane waits and even though he winds up almost missing the bus it's worth it because the other boy holds up a sign with weird lettering, but he's patient enough to hold it until Shane can take a picture with his Polaroid. It takes weeks of looking in the library (Shane doesn't ask his teachers much of anything usually and anyway, he doesn't ever know what to do with himself during library time, so it gives him a project). He determines the other boy is using Cyrillic. This explains less than he'd like. The school library doesn't have any books about Cyrillic. Defeated, he finally caves and tells his parents "I see a boy in the mirror, he uses this alphabet, can I get a book?" His mother hugs him very hard. Soulmates, he learns, are rare and precious. He also learns that maybe his parents were worried about him in ways that don't entirely make sense, but okay. Fine. Glad we squared that away. Can I have a dictionary now?
If it had been two years later, he might not have asked. He would have been too afraid of what it might mean to have a male soulmate. Lucky they moved. Lucky that they brush their teeth and the same time.
Shaky-handed characters and pantomime get them to 'Ilya' and 'Shane'. A lucky glimpse in a locker room bathroom gets them to 'hockey'. They start to use clocks to make sure they don't miss each other. When Ilya misses one of their schedule times, Shane can barely think about anything else all day. He knows they won't have a chance again until tomorrow, but when he goes to pee before dinner, he finds Ilya in the mirror, his eyes red-rimmed. For the first time, Ilya seems way too far away. Shane put his hand to the mirror and when Ilya put his hand up too and it's shaking, Shane wants desperately to be closer. That's how his mom finds him on top of the vanity which is not doing well with the weight of a preadolescent hockey player with his whole torso pressed to the glass. She doesn't make him get down. Maybe because he's crying too without any idea what they're both sobbing about. He won't for years.
It goes and goes. Shane interrupts Ilya getting ready to go out, finds him styling his hair. Shane mimics him with a smile and Ilya wrinkles his nose at him. Ilya watches Shane floss in bafflement, but takes up the habit too, seemingly so he can make fun of the faces Shane makes. When they happen to catch each other in hockey gear, they use their fingers to signal goals and assists. Shane keeps track in a little book that holds a lot of things. No one else can see Ilya, anymore than any one can see Shane on Ilya's side, but they learn to be careful in public restrooms, coming up with a clear subtle signal for 'not home' since they can't see the others location. They watch each other grow up. They learn how to write in each other's languages and backwards at that.
And finally, finally, comes the sentence that makes Shane's heart skip a beat. In Ilya's pretty handwriting (good even in his second language and backwards which makes Shane unbearably jealous and proud):
I will see you soon.
They meet at four sitting on their mother's beds across the world from each other. They meet at twelve, sharing a pain that doesn't need words to be clear. They meet at fourteen, Shane fresh out of the shower and Ilya shirtless, things wakening in Shane that he thought he would never understand. They meet at sixteen, hands pressed to the place on Shane's mirror that is always marred with fingerprints.
They meet at seventeen. Shane sees him across the parking lot and tries to stay cool, walking instead of running. He watches Ilya try to light his cigarette and gets there before flame touches it.
"You're not kissing me for the first time tasting like cigarette smoke, asshole."
"This is not romantic," Ilya protested. "This is not first time I hear your voice."
"I love you," Shane said irritably, "do not light that thing or I'll throw up."
Ilya's breath caught. "You do not know me. You do not love me yet."
"I do," Shane said stubbornly. Then he stuck out his hand, "I'm Shane Hollander."
With a smirk, Ilya took his hand. "Ilya Rozanov."
Shane didn't let his hand go. He held firm and Ilya didn't try to pull away.
"There, now we know each other. I love you. Kiss me."
"Shane. I have to go back. It is no good there if we..."
"I know. Mom read me a bunch of articles," Shane said with a shrug. "But there's no one else out here. Kiss here. Everything else later. Okay?"
"Okay," Ilya said.
They kissed in that terrible parking lot and Shane never wanted it to end. He pulled away with a soft sigh.
"Wow."
"Wow," Ilya repeated teasingly. "You will say this when we beat you too."
"Not happening," Shane laughed. He was still holding Ilya's hand, a circuit completed.
When Shane got back in the car, his mother asks, "How did it go?"
Shane has a number in his pocket and a promise for a mirror meeting tonight once Ilya's roommate goes to sleep that makes his ears burn.
"He's kind of an asshole," Shane said, delighted.
"Okay," his mother laughed. "I can't wait to meet him."
And it's not that it's easy. Ilya goes to Boston and Shane goes to Montreal. They will have years before they see each other more in person than through reflections. But when Ilya gets ready for game 7 of the Cup, he does it with Shane smoldering with lusty jealousy from twelve inches away. And when it's Shane's turn, Ilya wears his jersey alone in the privacy of his house so Shane can see it before he heads off to victory.
Even years later, when they're married and more often before a mirror together than trying to communicate through them, sometimes they do it anyway. If Shane is washing his hands, ready to go back out to a photoshoot, he'll look up to find Ilya flirting with him or holding up Anya to make her wave at him.
There is always a handprint on their mirrors.
Sometimes they are apart, but they are rarely alone.
ilya makes shane smile in that way where only the very corner of one side of his mouth twitches and turns up, the really sweet one when paired with his gentle eyes, and ilya reaches out and touches his thumb to that spot, says, "mine".
shane raises his eyebrows. "what?"
"this," ilya says, moving his thumb back and forth. "when this goes up. is mine."
"oh you're claiming my smiles now?"
"yes. also thisā" ilya seeks out and pokes a spot high on shane's right cheek, "āthis freckle."
"mmm, okay. anything else?"
ilya makes an 'I'm thinking' face. "probably. but I cannot think of anything now. I will get back to you on this," said in the tone shane reads his emails in. shane smiles fully and leans in. ilya copies him till they're nose to nose. brushing.
"well you don't have to think about it," shane says, "because it's all yours."
ilya asks, "what is?"
"me." shane puts his arms around ilya's neck, tilts his head, says into ilya's lips, "I'm all yours."
mycentaurs are NOT groaning at hollanov's pda or telling them to get a room or feeling even a morsel of discomfort when they kiss in the locker room. they are enablers and romantics. one of the first things we see when troy comes out and says he's dating harris is bood telling him to give harris a good luck kiss, and i wholeheartedly believe they're all the same way with shane and ilya. they're at a barbecue and it's why do you need another chair?? just sit on his lap you're married?? if they aren't bickering at practice, everyone turns into amateur marriage counselors and forces them to kiss and make up. the rookies call them their mom and dad (with bood as a third parent and being daddy, of course). they could start describing their sex life in detail and at least 3/4 of the room would be nodding their head and asking follow up questions. that locker room is shameless and supportive
The key to writing good fanfiction is to harbor a deeply humiliating desire, and the trick there is that even pretty basic and societally-accepted desires like ābeing heldā and ābeing wantedā CAN and WILL be humiliating if theyāre intense enough. Become so estranged from human connection that the idea of someone playing with your hair fills you with yearning so deep you feel like youāre going to throw up and you will write some banger fanfiction. It might have some other consequences too but idrk about that.
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being gen z i am Also not a big fan of the revival of sexual conservatism amongst my age bracket. but i also think its insane that some people believe this is
unique to gen z
universal to gen z
like i remember at my high school graduation one guy gave this big speech about how it was Our Job To Fix The World! it was up to us now to solve climate change and everything! which annoyed the hell out of me for a number of reasons, the major one being that we were a bunch of 18 year olds. this was a grown man. talking about so many extremely complex issues which fundamentally require solidarity amongst so many people, across generations, long-term, to "fix."
its an extension of how ageism dehumanizes children by projecting "innocence" onto them, depriving them of the right to be messy and imperfect and growing humans, turning them into objects that adults can project a desire for purity and salvation onto. it connects directly to the belief that social progress is inevitable, that younger generations will be more accepting and intelligent not because of intergenerational efforts to strive for a better world but because young people are supposed to make up for all the mistakes of their parents through that intrinsic "innocence."
and then, when that illusion inevitably shatters, when young people are people with flaws and anxieties and normal human issues, when it becomes clear that the youth will not save the previous generations from everything in the world they are scared and ashamed of, the ageism doesn't go away. it transmogrifies. the "innocence" of youth is reimagined as young people (particularly teenagers) being a corrupting force, no longer the embodiment of adult hopes but adult fears.
tl;dr yes, puritanism amongst young people is a problem, racism and misogyny and conservatism in general amongst young people is a problem. because young people are people in a puritanistic, racist, misogynistic, conservative society. stop waiting for young people to solve all the world's issues and get some fucking intergenerational solidarity in your life.
I cant even go and see some street food trucks without their damn menus having AI images on it. you have a camera. take photos of your goddamn food. I would rather see a photo of the most weirdly lit burger than the fake monstrosity you're showing me.
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As a person who lives in a country where musicals are almost non existent, yes, I'd love to have more proshots of more musicals, possibly in a physical form that can be bought. š„¹
Like I would be totally fine if they waited until a certain time after it was performed live, that way it doesnāt cut into their profits for tickets.
But after that time, PLEASE, release it!
I would buy a copy of so many musicals if they released them. In fact, didnāt they recently do some investigation and saw that releasing them would make people interested in the musical and those that CAN go see it live, will usually go see it live?
And yep. Not even just for the people that doesnāt have musicals where they live, not just for those that canāt afford it, but also for the people that are disabled and canāt physically go.
All of these and more of plenty of reasons why they should film the musicals and release it for the public.
I LOVE musicals, but I donāt get to see them because of all 3 things I listed as reasons. For living somewhere we donāt have musicals, to not being able to afford it and more importantly to being physically disabled and not being able to go even IF I could afford it.
The theaters are not always very handicapped accessible for ācommonā disabled people, like those in wheelchairs(Iām sure some places are but most of those buildings are old, so it wouldnāt be the best even though Iām sure they tried the best they could), and even if they are handicapped accessible to a certain extent, that doesnāt really help those like me that are on oxygen and ventilators.
I got to see and enjoy musicals like Legally Blonde, Falsettos, etc, because someone was nice enough to record them. Even if itās not the greatest of quality. Itās still better than nothing and Iām sooo appreciative of those that record them.
BUT YES, PLEASE RECORD AND RELEASE MUSICALS.
PEOPLE YEARN FOR MUSICALS!!
And YES TO TAGS! A streaming Service of just musicals would be great, though I would want a physical copy too, but I wouldnāt be picky. I would be just happy enough to just be able to stream it.