We ( @coppercatbird, @orolin-writes and @angeldog5 ) are thrilled to be taking over moderation of this tumblr account and our discord Drarry Microfics community. This community has been and continues to be so important to all three of us, and we’re so excited to be here!
If you’re new to Drarry or to microfics, we want to welcome you! Micros are a fantastic way to dip your toe in, meet people, and start getting words down on the (paper or metaphorical internet) page. Our pinned post includes all the details, but a few highlights from the new mod team:
* 50 words is our “official” word count, but we encourage you to write as much or as little as your muse inspires. We see and love a huge range of definitions of “micro” here, and we want all of them!
* Whenever relevant, please note M and E ratings, major AO3 warnings (i.e. noncon, MCD, etc.), and/or hate speech so that readers know what to expect
* Our asks are open for prompts (word, song, or image) until further notice
* If you aren’t in the discord server, send us an ask for an invite! We post and chat about prompts, share micros, discuss upcoming events, and more
* We are planning some events starting this summer, so keep an eye out for announcements!
Finally, we want to offer our warmest gratitude for the incredible modding done by @citrusses, @maesterchill, @sweet-s0rr0w, and @tackytigerfic. You all did such an amazing job stewarding this community, and we are so grateful for all of it (and not even a little bit overwhelmed by the shoes we have to fill ☺️)
💗 🫶 my love to @tackytigerfic @citrusses @sweet-s0rr0w and @maesterchill you all have had a profound and long lasting positive impact on drarry through the microfic discord and we will do our best to carry the torch forward!
a quick little Hollanov ficlet to celebrate the bday boy!!
~~~
Lily: don't be sad
Shane: ??
Lily: I will win tonight just for you
Shane: fuck off
Lily: rude
Lily: is my special present for the birthday girl )))
Shane tells himself he's not going to watch the game.
It's always an odd scramble of feelings, to be out of the playoffs by his birthday. Doubly so, when Boston is doing so well. Rozanov has taken to texting Shane after every game, smugness radiating through the screen as he gives a triumphant, blow by blow rundown of his performances.
He details his goals and assists with a self-assured flair that has Shane rolling his eyes, while also fighting the urge to message back something desperate and mortifying. Like, and then what? As if Shane hasn't been keeping up with every game. It's an alien impulse, to want it in Rozanov's own words. And then what? Shane even types it out, once, before backspacing rapidly, scoffing at himself. It's something a vapid teen would say as she fawned over her boyfriend. Rozanov is not Shane's boyfriend. And god knows that Shane doesn't need to encourage him to be any more smug. He'd never hear the end of it.
It's just, Rozanov's been playing a sublime game, lately. And Shane's so hungry, to brush up against a part of it. That thing he and Rozanov share, that nobody else's game can reach. Intangible, obvious, electric. A looping circuit of more and better. Shane wants to be wired into it.
So Rozanov boasts and chirps and swirls it all through with a heavy helping of innuendo, but in amongst the bravado is the language Shane knows better than any other. The truth of the ice when it feels like an extension of your body, when the world slows around you and no one can catch you, when the game is a chessboard and your opponent can't even see the pieces. Lines in alignment, goals made. Even the brawls come clear and sharp and sweet. Rozanov knows it, the same way Shane knows it.
Shane's parents are in Montreal for the weekend, so they spend most of the day with him. It's a predictably relaxed schedule—a long early morning workout, presents opened alongside a takeout lunch from his favourite restaurant, a video call with Hayden's kids scream-singing happy birthday in a jumbled mix of English and French, and then to the couch for the annual Hollander family viewing of The Castle of Cagliostro. It's an exhale of a day, with the added luxury of getting to avoid being seen in public.
Then the evening comes. Shane's parents have gone back to their hotel, ready for an early morning departure, and Shane settles in to read, glancing at the clock on the wall. A little time yet before puck drop.
Not that he's going to spend any part of his birthday watching Rozanov play.
The words have fuzzed together on the page before Shane realises he's not taking any of it in. He's snapped out of it when his phone vibrates. Shane snatches it up off of the coffee table at once, was waiting for it, knows just whose name he'll see.
Lily: have your thing ready?
Shane: What thing?
Lily: your dildo friend
Shane feels his face go hot, still, at that, even in the safety and solitude of his own home.
Shane: Fuck you
Shane: Why?
Lily: is almost time for your birthday present
Lily: you get to fuck yourself
Lily: every time I score
Jesus.
Shane: You're a fucking lunatic
Lily: I bet you're hard for me already
Lily: aren't you Jane?
Lily: but be good
Lily: don't come until I get hat trick
There's no way he's responding to that. Shane shifts in his seat, then looks at the time again.
Shane: Shouldn't you be getting ready?
Lily: I am
Lily: are you?
Obviously Shane's not going to do it.
A few ridiculous words and what, he's just supposed to fall in line, do whatever Rozanov tells him to do? It's absurd. It's just another one of his mind games. It's a joke.
We said we were done with microfics (that was a lie). We said 2024 was the last fest (um, well). But in this crazy year of 2026, we are back and we are better than ever! If you were with us for previous iterations, first of all, welcome back! Second of all, things are going to look a little different this year.
So, let’s get to it! What’s happening with Microfic May 2026?
Microfic May is a multi-fandom, open prompt challenge that encourages the creation of microfiction.
We define microfics as works of fiction that are 50 words or less. However, this limit is merely a suggestion. We accept all lengths!
This is a multi-fandom event open to all characters, ships, ratings, genres, and content.
Participants must be aged 18+ and follow DLDR, SALS, and YKINMKATO etiquettes. (What does this mean?)
The use of AI is prohibited! If we find out you have used AI during any part of the writing process, you will be banned from the fest and your works will be removed from the collection.
We have 32 prompts that are split onto 4 mini bingo cards. Pick a card and get started! If you’re feeling extra ambitious, writing one prompt per day will complete all cards.
Don’t like a prompt? Each bingo card comes with one Alternate prompt option.
To submit a work, add it to our collection on AO3 Microfic May 2026 or post it on Tumblr with the tag #microficmay2026. Feel free to mention us at @microficmay, but we will only be reblogging completed bingo cards at the end of each week.
Title: Troubleshooter
Creator: @maesterchill
Type: Fic
Wordcount/length: 6.3K
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Mildly dubious consent
Tags: Meddling Ginny Weasley, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Potions, POV Ginny Weasley, Drinking, Scheming, Threesome, Idiots in Love, Obliviousness, Ginny is so done with these idiots, POV Outsider
Ginny Weasley doesn’t just suss things out. She fixes them. Sometimes that includes Quidditch tactics and team plays... sometimes it includes the love lives of her perplexing teammate, her perpetually oblivious ex, and her great big fool of a brother.
Art for Talk To Me In French, by @fluffyunderneath
A few minutes and a cleaning charm later, they lie naked, sated, passing a cigarette between them.
“Are you staying?” Malfoy asks, exhaling smoke and holding the cigarette out between two long fingers.
Harry takes it without looking at him and inhales, using the deep breath to keep his composure. To pretend his insides aren’t wriggling with delight. He exhales. “How else am I going to murder you in your sleep?”
Malfoy doesn’t reply, and Harry doesn’t turn to check his reaction, but he imagines he can hear Malfoy's smile.
TTMIF was one of my favorite fics of 2025, and I've wanted to draw Drarry smoking in bed ever since I read it <3 Treat yourself to the sweetest, funniest, sexiest fic on ao3 - with a French-speaking Draco, a down-bad Harry, and so much nudity Tumblr won't let me post the full picture without flagging it as indecent - just read it!
Bonus pic of Pierre the cat, who has my heart forever <33
Alternate (and happier) ending to club scene, ep.4. Thanks to @tackytigerfic @sweet-s0rr0w and @citrusses for the beta and weeding out my Irishisms
“Does Rose Landry make you come untouched?”
Shane inhales sharply, and Rozanov leans close enough that Shane can feel his breath against his cheek.
“Does she eat your pretty ass until you cry? Hmm? Do you beg her to be filled, ask for faster, harder, deeper?”
Shane feels his dick lift and swell, constrained by his tight jeans. “Jesus Christ, Rozanov, you’re jealous.”
Rozanov’s face twists for a second. “No. Only curious if she gives you what you need. I am concerned friend.”
--
Or
What would happen if Rozanov confronted Shane at the club?
Ahh thank you anon!!! Watersports is a tricky one as there are so many flavours 🫠 Fortunately we were spoilt for choice in my original fandom (Drarry, most likely you know that!) - some faves are:
Sports Star and Full by @moonflower-rose
Float by @shiftylinguini
Coming On Stream by @maesterchill
Wonderful Electric by @lqtraintracks
Grand Canyon and Come Through by @sorrybutblog
Come For Me by Frayach
For me, I'm really happy with how this one turned out. I wrote exactly what i'd want to read with Hollanov and i'm so glad it worked for you too!
Title: Troubleshooter
Creator: @maesterchill
Type: Fic
Wordcount/length: 6.3K
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Mildly dubious consent
Tags: Meddling Ginny Weasley, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Potions, POV Ginny Weasley, Drinking, Scheming, Threesome, Idiots in Love, Obliviousness, Ginny is so done with these idiots, POV Outsider
Ginny Weasley doesn’t just suss things out. She fixes them. Sometimes that includes Quidditch tactics and team plays... sometimes it includes the love lives of her perplexing teammate, her perpetually oblivious ex, and her great big fool of a brother.
15k | Hollanov | E | Time Travel, Age Difference, Younger Ilya/Older Shane
Ilya's on a hotel roof in the middle of the night. The draft is tomorrow, and he can't sleep.
That's when Shane Hollander appears, but he's somehow thirty-five years old, and acting very friendly... and he's wearing glasses. This must be a dream — mustn't it?
“You don’t look like a dream.” Tap, tap, tap, goes Hollander’s finger over the bridge of Ilya’s nose, over the little mark on his cheek where he’d had a mole removed when he was fifteen, then down to the spot under his chin where there’s an almost invisible white scar, from when he’d split it open when he was five. “You really are pretty realistic. And you don’t feel like a dream, either.”
“Wonder why you are old?” Ilya looks at him again, more carefully this time now he knows he can do whatever he wants. He has such a soft-looking mouth, the thin upper lip curled into what might be the ending of a smile, or maybe the beginning of another one. His freckles are unbelievable; Ilya should have known just by seeing them alone that this was all a figment of his subconscious.
“Hey, I’m not—,” Hollander protests, but it comes out weak and ends breathy, because Ilya reaches out and thumbs over his cheek, pressing against the skin where the freckles cluster darkly. It stops the words right out of Hollander’s mouth, and then Ilya can track his blush with this finger too, that insane pink that matches his mouth so well.
“The other times I dream about you, you are not old,” Ilya tells him, and whatever Hollander tries to say stops when Ilya catches at his chin, raises his face up, all the better to see the way his eyes move to Ilya’s mouth.
“You dreamed about me?” Hollander manages. Ilya’s hand fits perfectly along his jaw; Hollander tilts his chin as though he was not just expecting but waiting for the touch.
“Very nice dreams,” Ilya tells him, and kisses him.
On AO3 here
Thank you @sweet-s0rr0w @maesterchill @boxboxlewis, getting to write alongside you lot is the best part of fandom
