#and no prince hook or whatever their ship name is doesn’t count even though I adore their dynamic

[thepunkmuppet]

one thing that’s disappointing about once upon a time is that I ship swan queen but I still fucking LOVE killian, and there’s no one else to ship him with. I need a homoerotic mlm killian jones ship to latch onto and the writers didn’t do it because in the age of superwholock and sterek they knew it would be too powerful

[darkwingsnark]

FIC WRITER MEME

Tagged by @prince-luffy

AO3 name: DarkwingSnark

Fandoms: ...SEE, I’m in lots of fandoms. Or at least, I’ve written for them during hyper-fixation periods. Let’s see what AO3 says...

Batman: The Animated Series (20)

Batman - All Media Types (7)

Wander Over Yonder (Cartoon) (6)

DuckTales (Cartoon 1987) (5)

Penn Zero: Part-Time Hero (5)

Penguins of Madagascar (3)

James and the Giant Peach - Roald Dahl (3)

Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991) (3)

Disney - All Media Types (3)

Dan Vs. (2)

Milo Murphy's Law (2)

Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja (1)

The Batman (Cartoon) (1)

Lady and the Tramp (1955) (1)

Looney Tunes | Merrie Melodies (1)

Winnie-the-Pooh - All Media Types (1)

Alice in Wonderland (1951) (1)

Gummi Bears (TV) (1)

Winnie-the-Pooh (Disney) (1)

.... Honestly, I feel like there’s more that this list isn’t covering. Like Phineas and Ferb isn’t here and I wrote for that show too. And many of these can be simplified and condensed because they belong to similar fics.

Tropes: Depends on the fic. But as a whole, tend to write Romantic Comedies with a lot of slow burn. Mostly because... struggle is funny. People being dumdums and oblivious to the obvious is funny. Aaaaand also because it allows the episodic quality of shenanigans to occur.

Number of fics: Up and posted on AO3? 53. Does not include stuff on FF.net or that’s sitting in google docs begging to be finished.

Fic I spent the most time on: Not sure how to read this. Does it mean active man hours? Or does stuff like having a hiatus in-between count? Because TECHNICALLY ‘Real Value’ was started in high school, and I didn’t rewrite it and carry on the series (with Moonie) until many years later. There are also fics like ‘Growing Love’ or ‘Priorities’ that took a lot of time to do research. Like learning how to build a lawn mower so I could have a character believably break it apart for repairs.

....God I do a lot of research that doesn’t go into the actual fics. Because all I need, really, in the confidence of what I’m doing to be the character and describe an action here or there. 

Fic I spent the least time on: Probably something drabble related? Or maybe the fic I did that was just me venting out emotions because I was feeling guilty? ‘A Mother’s Intuition’ was written and posted within a couple of hours.

Longest fic: Complicated. The longest thing written is technically an RP, NOT a story. (Different, trust me.) ‘What Happens in Gotham’ has a word count of  207,413. But fic wise at 89,022 word would be ‘The Constant Gardener’ . 

Runner up being ‘Priorities’ at little over 87k.

Shortest fic: Drabbles? Uh, let’s see.. Probably from ‘Beauty and Your Worth’, as i think one was literally a paragraph long. ... Speaking of Gummi Bears, I wonder if I still have my notes on the GruffiGusto fic I wanted to write. Something to look into.

Most hits: Apparently ‘Fallen Hard’ at  5354

Most kudos: Also ‘Fallen Hard’ at 518. There... were more fans of Milo Murphy’s Law than I realised. 

Most comment threads: ‘Fallen Hard’, 193 comments. ‘What Happens in Gotham’ following at 185.

Most bookmarks: .... that’s something people care about? I hardly ever bookmark things, since I read it in one go. But... I can look?

Ah.... ‘Fallen Hard’. 63

Total word count: 971,833 Oh hey! Almost a million. That’s something to celebrate.

Favorite fic I wrote: 'Knights of Dobenshire’. Hands down. (With ‘Heart of the Cards’ being very close.) I like writing road trip styled stories. It allows many things to happen within the narrative. BUT, ‘Knights of Dobenshire’ wins because it was such a satisfying conclusion of this build up, you know? Scrooge is finally no longer just putting up with the relationship with Fenton, but fully embracing it. That surprise feeling that hits him when he realizes, dear lord, he IS attracted to Fenton beyond affection. 

It hits me more than a mutual pining because there I KNOW they will get together. But here? While writing with Moonie? I DIDN’T KNOW! I was worried in the end we’d have to write another fic to finally reach that step. Scrooge is stubborn and does what he wants, let me tell ya.

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: 'Fallen Hard’, ‘Season of Miracles’, ‘Going with the Flow’, pretty much anything that isn’t complete. BUT, not posted, I really want to get back to more of the stories planned in the McCrack series. It was a ship I kinda made from the ground up, with nobody caring about it in the beginning. So it feels very important to see that series through.

Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on:

... Actually, I can share something from 'Donald’s Party (Working Title)’. @swampy-tiefling and I started. Just the first scene to get you guys hooked.

Donald took a deep breath of air from the doorway of the house and sighed, once again pleased to find himself at his home away from home. Traveling the seas and exploring the world with the navy were its own rewards, he supposed, but there would never be anything quite like the countryside-- the middle aged mallard having practically been raised on Grandma Duck’s farm. Donald Duck was happy to be on shore-- his naval carrier being docked for the week in Duckburg as they replenished supplies and took care of whatever repairs that were needed. Whatever excuse his bosses wanted to use were fine by him, he was just happy to not be scrubbing decks for a change!

That didn’t, however, mean he was able to rest and relax-- as the duck was startled out of his thoughts as somebody bumped into him. That somebody was his grandmother as she came to, just having caught her plate of cookies before they fell.

“My land, Donald! What in the world are you doing hiding here when you should be meetin’ and greetin’ the guests?”

Donald ignored the woman’s soft glare as he waved her off, using his other hand to steal a cookie in the process. Stuffing it in his mouth, he murmured out a response.

“Phooey, they’re just relatives.”

“Even more of a reason to go out and talk to them.” Before the sailor could argue, Grandma Duck placed the plate of treats into his hands. “And put these out on the snack table while you’re at it. Poor Fethry is looking peckish.”

Donald rolled his eyes, but otherwise did as he was told. Wasn’t it just like life to make him work at his own welcome home party? Walking towards the open yard where the party was taking place, it didn’t take long to reach the table, where his cousins were already gathered around as they chat.

This instantly caught the attention of the lankier duck, his gaze zoning in as he smiled widely towards Donald in greeting.

“Well if it ain’t the guest of honor, with snacks to boot!” Fethry leaned closer, his red hat wobbling with him as he continued to inquire. “Say, cuz, ya wouldn’t happen to know if these are gluten free, would ya?”

Donald gave him an unimpressed look. 

“You’re not going on another crazy diet, are ya?” Though, in all honesty, he was more worried his looney cousin might try to drag him along-- and after months of eating nothing but mush, he would NOT miss out on his first chance to pig out on actual home cooked meals.

"Not crazy at all, actually!" Fethry grinned that goofy grin. "See, it's all right here; Gluten Free; It's the Way to Be' !" he shoved a rather lengthy-looking hard cover book in Donald's face. Donald had no choice but to stare at it, the words all blurring together from its close proximity to his eyes. The offending object remained there for only a second, however, before it was yanked back, the nutty mallard already busy flipping through it.

"Let's see, here, there's a fascinating chapter I think you should-- Don?"

Phew, that had been close. Donald was still in sneaking away mode, and jumped and yelped when he was tapped on the shoulder. Oh no. He'd been caught, after all. He slowly turned, with a forced, toothy grin, to face his fate.

A wave of relief washed over him when he saw his girlfriend, Daisy, smiling sweetly at him, instead.

“And where do you think you’re sneaking off to, Mister? You’ve been gone for so long, and here we are, with you haven’t even given me a kiss ‘hello’ yet.” 

Now there was something Donald didn’t mind doing, as his girlfriend leaned in her face for her reward. Wrapping his arms around her, he planted the biggest of smooches to her temple. 

“Gaww, I’m sorry Daisy. I really did miss you.”

This earned him a soft smile, as it was Daisy’s turn to kiss him on the forehead.

“And I missed you, hun. Now, tell me… why WERE you sneaking around?”

“Grandma put me on entertainment duty.”

“Well, “ his girlfriend began, “it IS your party, after all. They came to see you, seems fair to me.” This made the sailor groan as she looked at him unsympathetically. Rolling her eyes, the reporter sarcastically patted her boyfriend in comfort. “There there. Now don’t go sneaking off for real, the boys will be arriving soon. And Grandma tells me Uncle Scrooge will be bringing along a special guest.”

“Special guest?” Donald asked incredulously. “Like who?” This caused Daisy’s eyes to glimmer all the more in mischief, a look that told him that she knew something he didn’t know. And that something was big news, if he was reading her right.

“Oh, nobody TOO special, I suppose,” Daisy was stalling, and it was driving Donald up the wall. The duck woman continued her teasing. “Nobody except your uncle’s new date friend.”

"Date friend?" Donald practically exclaimed, prompting Daisy's grin to grow all the more smug.

"Yep! You've missed quite a bit since you've been away, you know."

"No kidding...well I'll be..." Donald was shaking his head, but he was smiling. Uncle Scrooge, dating, at his age... it was nothing short of a miracle. It was about time, too!

"Meanwhile, why don't you go say hi to the rest of the guests? I know it's hard..." she rolled her eyes. "but at least make an effort, okay? Thanks, hun!"

Donald's heart fluttered as she smooched his cheek, and left. He glanced out over the yard, and saw quite a few familiar faces; Gus, Ludwig, Gladstone... heck, even Gyro Gearloose had shown up!

He sighed, but this one wasn't a sigh of pure despair. It did feel nice to be home, surrounded by people who most likely cared, and his nephews were even going to show up soon. Not to mention, he'd get to tease his uncle for finally taking his advice on the whole dating thing. 

That alone gave Donald the pep in his step he needed as he threw himself back into the party-- where he knew his crazed family would be waiting for him. 

[chopper-witch]

AWOMOD: I’m Impressed (Ch 7)

Characters: Loki x OC (Ashira)

Warnings: blood, stabbing, boredom induced fighting 

Locations: Her ship

Word Count: 3000+

Summary: Loki figures things out; Ashira is restless.

A/N: There are probably still like a thousand mistakes in this ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Also, all the fighting is like super, super quick and only within the span of a few minutes. Also, as fanfic writer I’m entitled to do whatever the fuck I want and you can’t stop me.

AWOMD master

Previous

__

The following morning, they leave again with a new set of respect and trust. Instead of messing around with weapons, Ashira decided to stay in the pilot’s seat, mindlessly fidgeting with a dagger as she stared out to the stars. This gave Loki time to rack his brain for everything he knew of Greek mythology. 

“Athena,” Loki declares after five hours. 

Loki’s voice causes Ashira to jump from her seat. The pure white dagger clatters to the ground, droplets of blood with it after knocking her thumb. Her right hand flies to grasp her chest, her left lifting to her lips to stop the bleeding.

“Do not scare me like that, oh my god.” Ashira exhales loudly. “I could have just sent us anywhere, fuck.” 

“Athena,” Loki claims again, coming to stand in front of Ashira. “If she is Selene and translations are messy, Athena. Or Artemis.” 

Ashira laughs at his far too focused face. “Surprised? Athena is not a tall, glorious warrior yet instead is a short, kind of chubby runaway.” 

“I mean Norse mythology claims I gave birth to Odin’s horse... so I know things get sloppy.” 

Ashira blinks a few times to try and adjust her reality, ensuring what he just said is real. Rumors and stories always have a drop of truth to them and thinking he gave birth to a horse is not something you just make up out of thin air. 

“I don’t even want to know why they would think that.” 

Loki shrugs with a smile before it fades just as quickly as it happened, a suddenly confused twist to his features. “Then why are you so weary of magic? Wasn’t Hecate like the Goddess of Magic."

“Her name is Helene, Selene’s younger sister.” Ashira leans her head back. “And no, not really. She was just a major drama queen, like her sister.”

“So then why is Greek mythology so full of mysticism and magic?”

Ashira raises a brow as if it is so obvious. “It’s called high tech science that humans weren’t able to make sense of.” 

“I have a hard time believing that.” Loki slips into the co-pilot seat. “There is amazing technology on Asgard and we still use and practice magic.” 

“That’s fine with me.” Her head tilts back upright. “You’ll see.” A mildly evil grin appears on her face. “You’ll see.”

— 

And he does see, three days later.

They landed on a planet Loki has already forgotten the name of about four miles outside of the closest village (forget city) yesterday. Today Loki is sitting beneath one of the trees in the prairie while Ashira sorts through her weapons. While he much rather be inside where it is cooler, after he witnessed her grabbing a a live bomb seconds before it touched the ground and detonated, he decided to hang outside. 

Surprisingly enough, he isn’t in the mood to die, especially by the hands of stupidity on her part.

So he doesn’t think of anything of the sounds of her walking around the opening in the field as she has already done so several times to layout various equipment. 

Ashira then towers in front of him, the bit of sun he was using to read blocked by the secondary shadow. 

“Here.” A pure black dagger falls on top of Loki’s book. 

It’s entirely matte and unbelievably smooth everywhere but a few spots along the handle where there is clearly texture added to help the grip. 

“What’s this?” He asks. 

“A dagger,” she replies slowly. “I assumed you knew.” 

Loki scowls. “Of course I did. Why did you give it to me?” 

She shrugs. “I’m bored.” 

“So you’d like me to kill you?” Loki questions, mildly concerned about her phrasing. 

“I want you to fight me.” 

Loki finally looks up from his novel to the person blocking his sunlight. Ashira is standing above him, right arm across her body so both hands can rest on her jutted left hip, yet another different outfit donning her body. This one is unusual however: it is simply very short shorts and a tight half-length top without sleeves, both in the same deep royal blue as the items he has identified were likely either standard issue or part of a uniform from her home world. Her hair is braided back into a ponytail for once instead of its normal partly down or entirely braided state. 

And gosh, it’s long even when tied up.  

How fast does her hair grow? 

“You want me to fight you?” 

“I’m bored and haven’t gotten in any real fights recently and you’ve done sparring before so why not?” 

Loki shrugs. “I must ask before we begin: the outfit, standard training wear from your home?” 

Ashira looks down at her clothes, even picking up her right foot to observe her specialized ankle height shoes. 

“Only worn for running and weightlifting, not for this kind of training but it’s hot and my armor is buried deep among other stuff.” 

“You still have your armor?” 

“Of course. I still have everything. It was my ship I took to get off Hala.” 

Loki’s brows furrow. “Wait you escaped Hala? I thought you escaped your home?”

Ashira’s eyes narrow as her face twists at his stupidity. “Has all the chatter on the radio talking about also trying to attack the Kree been erased from your mind or are you just stupid?”

“I just don’t get why you would be there.”

“They have bodies to spare to test powers and also it was decided I would be better suited in their facilities while things were figured out.” Ashira shrugs, ignoring the annoying tiny nagging voice in the back of her mind reminding her that they promised to be honest with each other. “Until of course it was no longer about testing and more about training. Their little experiment program, Inhumans, was then a good source of bodies. Powered enough to face off, not powered enough to actually hurt me.”

Loki nods. “So they kept you there.”

“So they kept me there.”

Loki looks down at the dagger, twisting it between his hands. “Alright, I’ll fight.” 

“But no magic and I won’t accidentally disintegrate myself, deal?”

“Can I at least have more than one dagger?”

“Summon it now.” 

Loki summons a second dagger, changing it to match the one Ashira gave him. He admits this all black look is nice. He stands and carefully leaves the book by the tree. 

“And exactly what will you be fighting with?”

“If I need anything, I can grab it,” Ashira smiles. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright. But I have to ask you something that has been bothering me now that you are basically baring yourself to me, what’s with all the scars? Do you normally hide them with cosmetics or something?” Loki asks, twirling around the daggers. 

“Cosmetics?” Ashira chuckles. “No, a biomorphic nanomask that I just stick to my skin and it smooths it over.” 

Loki has never seen anything like that before. “Alright, then why are there so many deep ones with such hacked edges? That’s not torture or surgery.” 

“Well I couldn’t just walk out of there.” Ashira walks closer to him as he stays against the tree. “Had to rid of stuff implanted in me since a few days after my birth. Right wrist tracker, left wrist biomonitor, and near my tailbone was what we called a carousel. Needed any medication? It was fed through there.” She steps closer yet again. Loki presses himself further against the tree to the point where he feels the bark pressing into his skin. “Left upper arm is where they put this disk thing that confined me to the facility I was being held at before I escaped and oh, my neck.” She forces him to stay against the tree, tilting her head to the left to exposing the jagged scar. “Here on my neck is the lovely place where I started my hack job. Whatever bar implant thing they put here was keeping me mostly subdued and basically enslaved.” 

“That does sound like a pain,” Loki replies. He’s grinning. 

Ashira doesn’t reply. She knows he is going to attempt to attack her, likely by her arms. So while he thinks she is still focused on the scars littering her body, she really is thinking of the best spots to hit him.

His right leg swings between her legs and hooks around her right knee. While he expects her to fall, she instead throws herself backwards into a handstand, Loki losing his balance as she does so. She stays upside down and turns herself to face him. 

He’s growling now, body bent over awkwardly from falling. Without a though he flings the dagger in his left hand directly towards her. 

It’s flying towards her right side so she lifts her right arm up and tilts her whole body to the right. Just as the dagger tip flies past her she reaches out and grabs the handle. 

Now upright, Loki is not any happier with her. 

He lunges towards her. She doges by twisting her upper body away. Her hand switches the grip of the dagger and moves it so that the blunt end lands between the tendons in his right wrist. 

He involuntarily releases the dagger and she grasps it in her left hand.

And as he pulls away she knees his stomach yet again. The prince falls back into the tree with each dagger crossed over his neck.

“I’m impressed.” He throws his arms up in defeat. 

Ashira smirks. She tosses the daggers to the side, standing and walking from Loki. As she walks away, Loki takes a moment to stand, honestly impressed with fighting style and technique. And he cannot help but watch her walk away. He catches sight of white along her spine and looks closer. A tattoo, it appears, of some form. A combination of swirling organic shapes and perfectly geometric cubes from what he can tell, even though he can only see half. 

“Wait, you have a tattoo?” 

Ashira looks back over her shoulder to him. “You never noticed?” 

“No…” Loki huffs. “No I haven’t.” 

“Besides when we go out I don’t try to cover… though I guess my hair does a pretty good job at that.” She glances down her spine where only the bottom half of it is visible. 

“So your tattoo, what does it symbolize?” 

“Well do they symbolize things back home on Asgard?” 

“Not typically. Decoration only sort of thing, though sometimes people will get family crests.” 

Ashira nods once before moving her hair from her neck. “Well the spinal tattoo is basically the history of a person on Ares. It begins on the neck with their birth rank which is why I have such a bizarre pattern near my hairline and then goes down from there: battles, kill count, awards, discoveries. Those weird swirls? Got those for making new technology.” 

“And all those tiny little dots?”

“Kill count.“

While he cannot count every single one (mostly due to the nature of her shirt) there are easily thousands of little white dots totaling somewhere near 6,000 that he can see, forget the ones he can’t.

Ashira chuckles at his slightly agape mouth. “Don’t tell me you’re frightened.” 

He looks back to her face. “Curious.” 

“Good.” Ashira turns back to face him. “Again?”

“I’ll beat you this time.”

“No you won’t.”

He summons the daggers into his hands again. 

They both go charging at each other, this time Ashira jumping over him and grabbing a branch easily. Loki spins to slash at her but she just lifts her legs up with the rest of her body as he goes charging back towards the tree. 

He spins around again. Before he can get far, however, Ashira drops her legs down, thighs wrapping tightly around his neck, ankles crossing. She releases the branch and throws her torso towards the ground. Her hands touch the grass just as Loki grips her calves with the knives tucked in his thumbs. His fingers press into the underside of her knees to attempt to force her legs to move, but she just yanks him forward as her hands finally touch the ground. 

Loki skids forward and catching himself right before he lands face first. He looks up to see Ashira coming down from a handstand perfectly. 

She grins at his nearly fallen form. 

Then he charges at her with his daggers ready. His right hand swings out to swipe at her but she simply ducks, grabbing his left arm and pinching between the tendons on his forearm and he involuntarily drops the dagger. 

Now they stand opposite to their previous stances, his left dagger now in Ashira’s left hand. 

“Ready?” Ashira teases. 

“For what?” 

No words are said as she charges at him. He ducks to avoid her and possibly catch her with his dagger only for her to jump up again suddenly. Before Loki even knows what’s happening the dagger lands in his shoulder and Ashira perfectly rolls upright. 

“Ah!” He screeches, hand flying to grab his left shoulder with his right hand.

“Sorry.” Ashira shrugs. “Not really though.” 

“By Valhalla and Hel you couldn’t just tap me instead?”

Ashira shakes her head as she attempts to hide her smile. “Nah. And I know you heal quick enough for it to not be a problem. I’ll grab something if you’d like to seal it entirely right now.” 

“That’d be lovely.” He grunts as he yanks the dagger out. 

She comes back a minute later with a tube no larger than her pinky finger in her hands. Loki has fallen back against the tree. His seidr isn’t working as well as he hopes it would for healing - in fact, it is doing absolutely nothing. 

“Here.” 

Loki grabs the bottle from her. While he fumbles with opening something so small, she leans against the tree as well, internally laughing at how ungraceful he is at the moment. 

The second the gel hits his skin he hisses. It stings; it stings worse than that time Thor thought it would be funny to pour wine mixed with salt in one of his worse cuts from a training incident gone wrong. But then it seals over like he was never cut in the first place. He watches as his skin and muscles and nerves stitch themselves back together, miniature tendrils attaching back to one another. 

“Huh.” Loki touches his skin gently. No pain, no blood. 

“Yeah, huh.” She pushes away from the tree and turns on her toes to face him. “Now, go ahead and use your magic. But try to keep up.”

She reaches her left hand out towards the ship. A pair of white batons goes flying through the between them, landing in each of her hands. 

Loki’s brows furrow. “You know magic?”

“It’s called science, like I said.” She twirls the batons around. “Let’s do some science versus magic fighting. Show you why the humans were wrong.” 

So he goes for his magic instantly. Any form of memory reading or even an attempt to usually puts people down for a moment or two.

He presses his palm to her forehead. 

Instead of memories, it’s blank, fuzziness. Static, just like before. No, not like before. Even worse. It’s pure blackness in her mind. 

Loki, the stubborn asshole he is, keeps trying to push into her mind.

While he is distracted trying to pick her mind, Ashira grabs his left hand and pins the wrists together. Loki pulls back at this. Ashira knees his stomach, pulling herself back to extend his arms behind him as he falls to his face. Her grip causes both of his arms to pull uncomfortably behind his back. Then she steps onto his back with her right foot, wedging it between the shoulders and pulls up.

Loki yelps at the twist in his upper back as she forces his muscles to separate in ways that are most definitely not natural.

“Science,” Ashira gloats, releasing his arms and stepping away from him. She calls her batons back to her hands. 

Loki stands slowly. “I’m impressed, I’ll admit. But how do I know you aren’t using magic as well?”

“Truce, for now, so I can show you.” Loki nods once. “Alright, here.” She switches both of her batons to her right hand and extends her left. “Feel.” 

Loki takes her hand tentatively. She could flip him over even if she is cupping her hand and she has no legitimate traction.

“Feel it. There’s a bit in there like a magnet.” 

His thumbs run over the crevices in her hand. He uses his magic to feel for different particles in her hands, finding an entire circuitry of electronics within her. There is a device in the center of her left palm, little tendrils of metal reaching up her wrist, deeply embedded in her arm’s nerves, extending as far as her brain stem. 

“My right hand only has the magnet. I’m left handed so this was installed to go through my left arm to align with any of my weaponry.”

“So you can call anything to you?” 

“Not anything, but things aligned with it. Batons, my sword, most of guns and grenades... Important things.” 

Loki drops her hand. “What if you need to improvise?” 

“You did just see me beat your ass like a bunch of times, right? And stab you?” Loki rolls his eyes. “Plus near anything makes a weapon.”

“Suppose you aren’t wrong about that. I must say, I’m impressed.” 

“That’s why I am weary of magic. If it can be done through mystical means, it can be done with science.” She rests her hands on her left hip again. “Science is proven, nearly infallible once everything is factored in. Magic is messy.” 

Loki cocks an eyebrow. “Science is still messy.”

“Yes but it makes sense.” She motions with her batons still pressed against her hip. “Magic doesn’t.” She points at him with the baton in her left hand

“Alright, another question. Why is all your stuff white? Why white?”

“Every planet has its colors, right?”

“Right.”

“Well Ares’ colors are that blue color and silver and white,” she taps the left toe of her shoe on the grass and leaves it there, weight moving almost entirely to her right leg. “As you get higher in rank, people can change their weaponry from the blue and silver to another color or a custom pattern. Most people go to all blue or all silver or something simple like that, but I wanted something different. So all of it is a pure white.”

“Interesting. But doesn’t white get dirty easily?”

A very terrifying grin pulls at her lips. “The blood falls right off.”

Loki opens his mouth to ask how that is possible, but closes it. He doesn’t want to know. Sort of scared to ask in the event she just tries to swipe at him to show him. 

“Now come on, we should move soon. This planet actually has a Kree and Aresian outpost on it and capture or death is not in my plan for today.” 

He gapes at that. 

“How stupid can you get?” 

“Oh, it can get a lot worse.” Ashira tosses both batons to flip them around. “For real, we need to leave. The radars degrade the cloaking over time and there is approximately two hours before it will be entirely uncloaked.” 

“It’s like you want to be captured.”

The ex-princess simply shrugs and sighs. “I know the limits of the technology because I either built it myself or with Er -” She stops herself suddenly. 

No, she reminds herself, don’t bring it up. 

“Some others.” 

The prince knows she cut herself off to avoid telling him something. A name, most likely. 

Something too personal to her. Something she won’t share. 

Or maybe something she can’t. 

___

Next

___

Taglist: 

@illogicalfangirl @tarynkauai

[the-truest-sentence-i-know]

Chapter Twenty-One | The VK

Fandom: Disney’s Descendants

Summary: Quinn Little, raised in Auradon by Little John, finds out that her heritage is not what she thought it was. When Little John tells her that her real father was a villain, she must go on a journey of self-discovery that will bring her to all the forbidden places in the United States of Auradon.

Pre-canon & canon compliant to the first Descendants film.

Word Count: 2k  |  21/23

ao3 ||| ff.net ||| wattpad ||| quotev

It became more and more difficult to go out in public. The way people whispered and shot glances her way reminded Quinn of high school in the worst way possible. She had started living with Chloe to be closer to the action and she missed Dad and Sherwood.

Routine set in – a depressing routine that seemed to accomplish nothing. She signed up for audiences with the king and queen every Monday – which were always refused. So, they would demonstrate in front of the palace on Tuesday or Wednesday. If the demonstrators were deemed ‘too loud’ or ‘provoking un-goodness,’ she and a bunch of others may spend the night in a cell. Then they would have a meeting at Chloe’s apartment to discuss progress.

And sometimes there was actual progress: a few new people had joined from outside the Underground and Sherwood, or reports of smaller demonstrations in other regions in Auradon. Once, Prince Aladdin and Princess Jasmine, the leaders of the Lone Keep region, had issued a statement saying that although they did not fully agree with Think of the Children’s message, they acknowledged that people could change. After all, Aladdin, a former thief, was proof of that.

But most of the time, they would leave the meeting less heartened than they had upon entering it.

On the weekends, Quinn would pore over the footage from the Isle crime reports on tv, trying to piece together what was going on over there. She would smile when she saw a familiar face on the grainy footage – even if it was just Fabienne Facilier or Josephine from the Queens. She knew the Crew had disabled the cameras around the docks ages ago – which she had been grateful for in her time there, but now lamented – so she had to rely on the downtown cameras to catch a glimpse of them. And she rarely did.

•••

When she was in Sherwood, Quinn had taken to sitting on the roof of their house to think at night, since it was the closest thing to the Jolly Roger’s crow’s nest. She hugged her knees and looked up at the stars she could see through the leaves of the trees above her. Although she spent her last month or so on the Isle sleeping alone, she missed Jax beside her.

She heard the roof creak slightly and saw Dad climbing up to sit beside her. “I see you haven’t lost your climbing skills,” he said.

Quinn smiled. “I was able to keep them up on the Jolly Roger’s ratlines, as well as the buildings of the city.”

“And how do ships and cities compare to trees?” he asked.

She thought about it for a moment. “The Isle had hardly any green, which I missed. A lot. But the seaside breezes were nice. And there’s nothing quite like a thunderstorm while onboard a ship.”

They sat in silence for a minute or so. “I had a boyfriend over there,” she said finally. She was not sure why she had not told him yet. She and Dad had always been able to talk about everything, including romance. He was the first person she told that she had kissed Winston Scarlett and didn’t want to be with him but didn’t want to tell him because no story she learned about at school had a princess tell a prince that. And he had told her to tell him anyway because those princesses had lived in a very different time.

He looked over at her and said nothing, prompting her to continue.

“His name is Jax, Captain Hook’s son. He was one of the first people I met on the Isle and he helped me even though I told him who my father was.” Dad listened patiently as it all spilled out: the training, the kiss in the alleyway, flings on the Isle, all the way to Seamus’ blackmail, how he supported her through the outbreak of whooping cough and finally helping her to come back. “I love him, Dad.”

He just nodded and enfolded her in a hug. “He must be a very special guy.”

Quinn nodded. “I miss him.”

“Then you have another thing to fight for,” he said. “And I’m sure he’s fighting just as hard to get back to you.”

 Her conversation was much less serious and much more, well, Mark-like.

“Are you telling me you lost your v-card to a pirate on a pirate ship?”

“Oh, I regret telling you already.”

They were sparring with quarterstaffs behind his parents’ house.

“Little baby Quinn –”

“Shut up,” she said, but she was laughing.

“– sleeping with – what was his name again?”

“Jax.”

“Please tell me it’s spelled with an X.”

“It is.”

“Wonderfully scandalous.”

Quinn thwacked his leg with her quarterstaff while he was distracted.

 Things continued to go badly for the campaign, and Quinn decided to stay a bit longer in Sherwood. One evening, after racking her brain, she tossed her notebook onto the coffee table in frustration. She sighed. “They just don’t care.” She ran her hands through her hair. “And I don’t know how to make them care.”

Mark looked over from where he sat at the kitchen table with a sympathetic smile. “Come on, Quinn, you can’t give up now.”

She got up and walked over to the kitchen pantry. “I know,” she said as she dug through the shelves for a granola bar. “It’s just frustrating.” Unwrapping the bar, she went to sit at the table. “I mean, we have been taught our entire lives to be good, to care about people, but then when I suggest we care about the innocent children of villains, everyone goes crazy.”

“We’ve also been taught that we are the good guys and they are the bad guys,” Mark said, closing his laptop. “And that they deserve what they get.”

Quinn nodded as she munched on the granola bar.

“We just need to find a way to show everyone that the kids on the Isle aren’t so different than the kids here. That being a villain or a hero is a choice, not genetics or whatever,” Mark said.

She swallowed and looked at Mark. “I think I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Make them see that being a hero or a villain is a choice,” she said, eyes wide.

“Yeah...?”

Quinn grinned, full and wide, like she hadn’t in a while. “I’m living proof of that.”

“You want to come out as the child of a villain?” Mark said uncertainly.

“Yeah! How did I not think of this before?”

“Because it might have bad consequences,” Mark said. “They might hate you even more.”

“But,” Quinn said, excitedly. “It might show them that who your parents are doesn’t matter.”

 Quinn told the rest of her idea over the group chat. Everyone was also growing discouraged and although they were not sure it would work as Quinn did, they were running out of ideas, so they all agreed it was the best way to move forward.

•••

The next day, Quinn stood inside the house, pacing back and forth. She could hear the reporters outside and knew Mark and Dad were watching her from where they sat at the kitchen table. The clock on the wall struck nine and she took a deep breath as she turned to the door.

“You’ve got this,” said Mark.

“Do you want us out there with you?” Dad asked.

Quinn smiled at them. “No, I need to do this by myself.”

“Alright, knock ‘em dead,” Dad said.

She squared her shoulders and stepped out the front door and was met with camera flashes and shouted questions. When she got to the ground, microphones were shoved in her face.

“What is your announcement, Miss Little?” many reporters asked.

Quinn looked around and then focused on the main news network’s camera. “As you all know, my team and I have been campaigning for the care and rights of the children of villains. I would like to point out that despite my many statements to the king and queen, I have had absolutely no response from the throne.” She looked at the camera for a moment, hoping that the king was watching. “So, Your Majesty, I ask again, are you satisfied with the children of villains – your subjects – living the punishments of their parents’ crimes of which they are innocent?” She took another pause and got ready for the thing that she knew would make or break the campaign. “So today I would like to make an announcement.” She took a breath. “I am the child of a villain.”

There was a moment of complete silence in the crowd of reporters and then she was bombarded with questions.

“I do not say this to call attention to myself,” Quinn insisted quickly, speaking over the reporters. “I am putting this out in the open so that I can show the country that being a villain or being a hero is a choice. People are not good or evil because of their parents, they are good or evil through the choices that they themselves make.”

More questions came from the reporters:

“Which villain?”

“When did Little John adopt you?”

“Is this why you started your campaign?”

The reporters started to crowd her and Quinn could feel her fight or flight reflexes start to kick in. She took a breath and smiled at the reporters. “I thank you for your time, um, that’s all I have to say for today.” She scrambled up and into the house as quickly as she could.

•••

Jax had about had enough of Auradonian news. Every mention of Quinn was accompanied by vague gestures at her upbringing and handwringing about culture.

So when she told the country about her parentage, he was not surprised about the fallout. They dissected her school record and social media, looking for ‘clues’ about her heritage that they had missed. They interviewed her classmates, most of whom seemed very eager to talk about how odd she had been – her and the Sherwood kids.

The most daring commentators were beginning to question the goodness of the Merry Men. After giving one interview, Robin Hood seemed to catch wind of their intentions to smear him and gave no more statements. Little John had avoided the press from the beginning, but they hounded both him and Quinn until several outbursts from him were painted as “violent” and “coarse” in the press.

A headline: “Woman calls guards on Quinn Little, claimed she ‘felt threatened’ by presence”

A picture: Quinn, eyes tired and mouth pinched tight, tries to avoid cameras as she heads back to Sherwood after a protest at the royal palace. There is a prominent bruise on her arm where a guard grabbed her.

Watching the news began to take more and more of Jax’s time. He did not want to tell anybody else about how badly the campaign was going. Part of the reason they helped Quinn was the promise she would help them get away from their parents.

Jade would often find him late at night, slumped on the couch in front of the TV, face worried even in sleep.

“You know obsessing over Quinn’s campaign won’t help her,” she said one morning.

Jax rubbed his eyes and yawned. “I know, but there’s not much else I can do.”

“Jax.” Jade sat across from him. “She’s out there fighting for us, so you need to fight too. For the Crew and everyone else. We can make life better here while she’s working to make it even better for the future.”

He smiled softly. “You’re right, Jade, as always.” He sighed and looked over at the tv, muted by Jade. Yet another tv commentator yammered on as footage of Quinn yelling into a megaphone in front of the palace played. “We’ll do our part while she does hers. We gotta prepare everyone for Auradon.”

[siren-dragon]

Carnival Games (Ardyn Izunia x Reader) drabble

Here is a little fic I did for @rosecoloredkay, who wanted a fanfic fluff centered around the Chocobo-Moogle Carnival. Here you are my dear! :D

We’ll be arriving to Altissia shortly.”

“Woohoo, finally!”

You watched Prompto dance about in excitement on the deck of the ship, the exuberant blonde causing a laugh to bubble from your throat.

The Royal Retinue were a common sight within Hammerhead, especially at Takka’s diner where you worked. You still remembered when you first met the four boys; painstakingly pushing a dead car toward the garage before collapsing on the driveway in exhaustion. Curiosity got the better of you and so you decided to offer them four Jetty’s sodas to combat the sweltering heat of the Leide Desert. And after Prompto’s exaggerated words of thanks, alongside those of Gladio, Ignis, and Noctis; you had become a dear friend.

Currently you were joining them on a short trip to Altissia once more in celebration of the Chocobo-Moogle Carnival. It came only once a year and this year, Noctis had managed to procure tickets. Unfortunately, Cindy was too busy to attend, so it left just you and Cid joining the four. Well, more so you; since Cid was likely just heading to Maagho for a nice drink with Weskham.

“Is this your first time to Altissia, (f/n)?” Ignis asked.

“No, I’ve been once before with my parent’s years ago.”

Prompto grinned, 1′though this is your first time to the Carnival, right?”

“Uh huh. And I’m glad that you guys invited me, thank you.”

“No sweat. Plus, it’d be a shame to waste a ticket,” Noctis smiled.

Gladio smirked, “and we couldn’t very well say no to our lovely Culinary Goddess.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Ignis replied.

You laughed, “don’t worry Ignis; no one can compare to you.”

“You are too kind, (f/n). Though don’t sell yourself short, you are skilled in your own right; as is Takka.”

“Thank you Ignis.”

The boat shifted to the left, causing you to look up and watch as the Gates of Altissia came into view. Towering statues of angels loomed overhead like hooded judges, watching every arrival and departure from the Walls of Water. The yacht sailed past the checkpoint and into the main harbor, where the Moogle-Chocobo Carnival had completely undertaken Accordo’s capital.

Balloons filled the air as banners waved through the wind, confetti falling across the city like sprinkles upon a cake. All around people laughed and smiled, wearing silly costumes as they danced and cheered. You grinned brightly at the colorful sights while Prompto practically jumped off the boat to reach the festivities faster.

“This is amazing!” Prompto cheered, quickly pulling out his camera to snap photos of the newly decorated Altissia. “They even have a prize counter!”

“It says here that you must collect tokens to exchange them for rewards.”

“That doesn’t sound too difficult-" You paused, a trinket catching your eye enough to silence your train of thought.

It was a large chocobo doll that sat amongst the enormous pile of moogle, chocobo, and cactuar plushies that took up almost an entire shelf. However, this one was different from the standard canary yellow and was pitch black instead, with a small satchel of Gyshal Greens hooked over it’s body like the festival’s mascot: Chocobro. You grinned at the sight of the doll, knowing that you have already set your sights on the unique plushie.

“See something you like, (f/n)?” Prompto teased.

“Well whatever it is, we’ll need to scrounge up some tokens.” Noctis said, “let’s get a move on.”

“You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up later. Don’t do anything stupid.” Gladio answered before disappearing into the crowd with a lazy wave farewell.

“He’s probably going to hit on girls again.”

Noctis shrugged, “just Gladio being Gladio.”

“I suppose I shall take my leave as well. If we are to be staying the night, it would be best to have accommodations. Take care you three, and try not to cause a scene.”

“Alright, see ya later Specs.”

Prompto sighed as Ignis walked off toward the Leville, “I guess it’s just the three of us. You okay with that (f/n)?”

“It’s no trouble. Besides, I’m sure Gladio and Ignis would enjoy a small break.”

“Heh, guess you have us there. Now come on, let’s hunt down some tokens!”

Together the three of you traversed the entirety of the carnival, stopping to see every attraction and event that littered the streets (and canals) of Altissia. After having to drag Noctis away from the fishing minigame, where he was bragging about the giant grouper he had just caught, the three of you counted the tokens collected and made your way to the prize counter for a small reward. Noctis immediately picked up a new lure, while Prompto decided to grab the Choco-Mog Decal; eager to put it on the Regalia despite Noctis’ protests.

You laughed at the antics of your two friends before reaching for the black chocobo doll, only to have your hand encounter another.

“Excuse me, but I believe this is mine.” A smooth voice, almost like a fine silk, purred softly.

You followed the arm up and brought your gaze upon the man standing beside you. He was incredibly tall, clad in a dark grey trench coat that seemed to exasperate his height. Steel-toed boots and green pinstripe trousers led up to a ruffled dress-shirt, accented by the vest he wore. A dark-grey and black hood was draped across his shoulders with a red-orange scarf tied about his neck. Though the most curious features he had was his wine-colored hair and golden eyes; which were currently staring at you with a look of mild interest.

“I’m sorry sir, but I’m afraid I claimed this prize first.” You replied boldly, unwilling to part with the doll you had worked so hard to get.

“If I recall, my dear, our hands met at the same time.” He chuckled, as if he found your words particularly humorous.

“Yet mine happens to be under yours, meaning I touched it first.”

The main smirked, “if that were true, you would already have the doll in your hands. And yet, here we are.”

“Oh, you smug, little-”

“Hey (f/n), did you find a- Wh-What the hell are you doing here?!”

“My, my, a pleasure as always your Majesty.” The man bowed politely to Noctis, causing the black-haired prince to fume in anger.

You frowned, “Noctis, do you know this man?”

“Tch, you could say that….”

“Really your Majesty, your words are quite hurtful.”

Prompto gulped nervously, “what are you doing here, Ardyn?”

You turned back to face the magenta-haired man. So, his name was Ardyn….

“Enjoying the festivities, of course! And I was just about to acquire a lovely prize too. Now, if I might have the doll, my dear.”

“How about you just leave us the hell alone, Chancellor,” Noctis snapped.

“It’s okay Noct, we don’t need to cause a scene.” You spoke calmly before turning to face Ardyn once more. “Alright, I can see you are not likely to be swayed so how about a deal.”

Ardyn quirked an amused eyebrow at the fuming prince before his golden gaze focused onto you. “How about we race on the track for the doll; first to the finish gets the prize. Also, you will have to promise not to bother Noctis and Prompto during the festival-”

“And if I win, you will accompany me for the remainder of the day Miss (f/n). Without the company of your…friends.” Ardyn finished with a sly smirk.

You blinked in surprise; not expecting him to wager such an offer. Behind you Prompto and Noctis seethed, ready to tell off the older male for even making such a suggestion. But then again, you really wanted that chocobo doll; and it would be nice to wipe that smug smirk off his face…no matter how cute it was.

“It’s a deal.” You replied, offering your hand.

Ardyn took hold of your hand gently, giving it a single shake before moving his lips to your hand and placing a chaste kiss upon your skin. “Shall we then?”

You shifted atop the chocobo you had chosen for your race, a simple yellow that reminded you of Prompto. Meanwhile Ardyn had decided to choose a bright magenta bird that seemed just as flamboyant as it’s rider. Wiz stood on the side with Prompto and Noctis, both of which were cheering you on quite loudly; much to Ardyn’s annoyance. You waved back to your friends before gripping the reins tightly, eyes focused ahead as Ardyn and you waited for the signal. The bell soon sounded, signaling the start of the race and off the two of you went.

Immediately you clicked your heels against your chocobo, urging the large bird to sprint faster. Ardyn frowned as you took the lead, snapping the reins to follow you. You grinned brightly as you guided the chocobo up the stair case and down across the floating platforms that dotted the entire harbor. A few feet away lay the finish line, with Prompto and Noctis cheering you on like a pair of mad men.

Just a bit more and then I’ll- what the?!

A shadow passed over head and you watched as Ardyn flew over head atop his magenta chocobo, landing right in front of you. He gave you a devious grin before cracking the reins in his hands and sending his own mount sprinting forward and over the finish line. You mumbled a curse under your breath as you crossed the finish line right after in second place.

“A good race you two, you sure know how to handle them birds.” Wiz complimented.

“Thank you, Wiz,” you answered back as you dismounted before turning toward your competitor.

Ardyn grinned like a coeurl that caught the chickatrice, “I believe a deal is a deal.”

If Noctis’ and Prompto’s glares were fatal, Ardyn would have been dead twice over.

“Do be careful Miss (f/n), or your ice cream will ruin your dress.”

You blinked in surprise and moved your hand away, saving your dress from a melted ice cream stain in the process. “Oh, thank you….”

“You seem distracted, my dear. I do hope I am not boring you.”

“Erm…..” you glanced at the large, black chocobo within Ardyn’s arms with a look of sorrow. It stung quite a bit to have lost the prize you wanted, but a deal was a deal. And while you were a bit nervous to be alone in the presence of the Chancellor of Niflheim, you decided to make the best of it. After all, you did come to the carnival to have fun; and a lost bet was not going to stand in the way of that.

“Not at all. Actually…I owe you an apology Chancellor.”

Ardyn blinked in surprise, “might I inquire why?”

“I promised to enjoy the Carnival with you, and I keep my word. I do not wish to ruin a joyous event for either of us because my pride was injured in a race. So…shall we get going? There is much to see” You beamed happily, offering him your hand.

He remained silent for a few seconds before a small smile tugged at his lips, “that sounds like a marvelous idea, my dear.”

Together the two of you journeyed through the rest of the attractions that Altissia had to offer. You laughed as a Moogle claimed Ardyn for him to dance with it, wishing you had a camera for a photo. Meanwhile Ardyn managed to show off at the Whack-A-Cactuar game within the coliseum, making you look rather silly having missed the elusive cactuar several times. But you did manage to wipe the smirk off his face when you tried your hand at the shooting range.

“Here you go, and enjoy the festival!” the prize attendant chirped happily, handing you a Choco-Mog hat; complete with a bobbing jewel on top.

You placed it atop your head and spun about, “what do you think?”

Ardyn bit his lip, as if he was trying to prevent himself from laughing. “A wonderful addition, my dear; but I’m afraid it does not match your wings.” He said, gesturing to the yellow chocobo wings you wore on your back.

“A good point…I guess you’ll just have to take it then.” You grinned, placing the hat over his wine-red hair.

He wrinkled his nose in distaste, flicking the plastic jewel. “Well played my dear.” Ardyn groaned as you begun to laugh.

As the sun began to set and evening came, you made your way out of the coliseum with Ardyn beside you as he hummed a cheerful tune. You stopped walking when the Leville was within view, causing Ardyn to stop a few feet away. The large stage that sat within the water was all alight, readying for the fireworks show to begin. “Chancellor Izunia, I-”

“There is no need to be so formal Miss (f/n); please, call me Ardyn.”

“Ardyn…thank you, I had a lovely time.”

He smiled, bowing deeply. “It was a pleasure, my dear.”

A whistle sounded through the air as the first firework was launched, sending showers of blue, orange, white, and yellow lights into the sky. You watched in awe as the evening sky was illuminated with various colors and shapes. Slowly you shifted your gaze to the man beside you, watching as he observed the show with rapt attention. Gently you allowed your hand to take hold of his own; the action causing him to tense. Yet as your hand settle within his grasp, you felt Ardyn’s hand tighten around your own, causing a dusting of crimson blush to brighten your cheeks….

   Later that evening, as you exited the shower within your small suite, you heard a knock at the door. You hurried over and saw no one there, before looking down and gasping in surprise. Sitting upon the floor was the black chocobo doll you had lost that morning…with a note beside it. Quickly you pulled the plushie into the suite and placed it upon the bed and opened the note.

Upon the pristine, white stationary was a collection of numbers, and one simple phrase: Another time, perhaps?

You bit your lip to hide your giddy smile, wondering if the Chancellor would enjoy an Assassin’s Festival as much as a Chocobo-Moogle one.

[romionestinyballoflight]

Twenty Years of The Boy Who Lived

“This boy will be famous. There won’t be a child in our world who doesn’t know his name.”

Oh, how right Professor McGonagall was.

I have to be honest, I haven’t been a fan since the very beginning. I was only three when Sorcerer’s Stone was published, so I can’t imagine being too excited about a three-hundred and nine page non-picture book about a young boy who discovers that he’s actually a wizard. I don’t even think the words Harry Potter were ever uttered in my house until the first movie came out. Not because my parents disapproved of the series or anything like that. We just never gave it a second thought.

That being said, the Harry Potter series never grabbed my attention until Sorcerer’s Stone came out in theaters in 2001. However, it didn’t hold my attention for very long, for whatever reason. I would see the commercials on TV, I would hear several of my friends talking about it, and I still never gave it a chance. I can’t fathom why, but it just didn’t interest me back then. I even had several friends offer to bring the VHS over to my house one day, or have me over their house to watch it, and I declined every offer.

Then, when I was in fifth grade, I started to experience a hatred for reading. Which was really devastating for me, because I had loved reading ever since I was first taught how to read. And it was all thanks to a reading program in my school district that every student was forced to participate in called Accelerated Reader, or AR for short. I realize not every district has this, and those who do have probably gotten rid of it by now, so I’ll explain it really quick. The basic gist of AR was this – read a book, take a test on it, and earn points. The higher the score on the test, the more points you got. And you had to earn a certain amount of points each month. And since a lot of the reading teachers who were forced to implement this program were smart, they realized that not every student liked reading so they needed more of an incentive to do well. So, there were competitions put in place. If at the end of the quarter you came in first, second, or third place, you won a prize of some sort. On paper, this program doesn’t sound like a bad idea and I didn’t have any bad feelings about it when I first started out in it. I loved reading and it was now part of my homework? No problem. Sounds like an easy A to me. But as I got older, it became more of a chore than anything else and it would take everything in me to finish a book. It got to the point where my mom would have to set the kitchen timer every night so I would read for the allotted time I was supposed to read, which was something that I never had to do before.

My mom obviously noticed that I was struggling with my AR points, which meant my grade in reading class was suffering. At one point, she told me that she bought the first four Harry Potter books (which were the only ones out at this point) and was hanging on to them just in case. She said she had a feeling I would ask for them one day. Still not feeling an interest in it, I ignored her. Then one day, I remember I was trying to get through another AR book that I had gotten from my school’s library. I don’t remember what book it was, but I do remember it was extremely dull and I felt like I had the cure for insomnia right there in my hands. Finally having had enough, I threw the book down, went up to my mom, and told her I wanted to give the first Harry Potter book a try. Without a word, she went into her room, grabbed the first book, and brought it out to me.

After being conditioned to hate reading for so long, it took me awhile to finish reading Sorcerer’s Stone. I don’t remember what score I got on the test, but it was better than the scores I had been getting lately. So, I decided to ask my mom to give me Chamber of Secrets. Again, it took me awhile to get through it. But I did pretty well on that test too and I found myself asking my mom for Prisoner of Azkaban. I don’t know what it was about that book in particular, but that book spoke to me much more than the first two did. Not to say I didn’t like the first two, but Azkaban hooked me right away and I found myself flying through the pages. I remember actually being excited about taking a test on Prisoner of Azkaban, which was a feeling I had not had about an AR test in a long while. And I got a 90%, which was the highest grade I had gotten on an AR test in quite some time.

I liked how this series had improved my grades and my interest in reading, so I continued with Goblet of Fire. By the time I finished Goblet of Fire and took a test on it, I had to find something else to read while I waited until the day I got Order of the Phoenix. It didn’t surprise me one bit that the other book I had to hold me over until I got Order of the Phoenix didn’t captivate me as much. Waiting to get Order of the Phoenix felt like an eternity, and I tore through it when my mom finally got it for me. By the time fifth grade ended, everyone was preparing for the release of Half-Blood Prince and this was the very first Harry Potter book that my mom pre-ordered for me. And since my luck is impeccable, it arrived at my mom’s house while I was staying at my dad’s house for a few weeks during the summer. So, I had no choice but to wait and count down the days till I went back to my mom’s. And just like with the last few, I tore through Half-Blood Prince with no issues whatsoever.

It was two years before Deathly Hallows was released, and I was just as anxious and excited as every other Harry Potter fan. Once again, my mom pre-ordered my copy so I didn’t have to worry about going to the store and fighting through a crowd. Unfortunately, what I didn’t realize was it wouldn’t ship until the release date. So, while I watched the mailbox every day for a week or so, friends of mine were getting theirs the day it was released and were finishing it a day or two later. One friend of mine felt extremely ambitious and finished it in five hours. It’s been ten years since that happened, and I’m still in shock that she was able to do that.

Every day during that week or so I waited impatiently for my copy to arrive, my mom would come home and know it hadn’t arrived yet by the disappointed look on my face and the lack of “new book smell” in the house. And every day she came home to that disappointed look of mine, she apologized profusely. To which I would obviously say it’s not her fault, it’s just the way it is. The day it finally did come, though, was a glorious day. When the doorbell rang and I saw it was someone delivering a package, I waited a few seconds for them to leave, like I did every time someone delivered a package and I was home alone. When I finally went outside to get it, I saw the address label and I instantly knew what it was. I ripped the box open with all my might and there it was in all its glory. At the time, I didn’t think I had ever seen such a brilliant shade of orange before. Not wanting to waste anymore time, I sat down in my spot on the couch and I started to read. I finished it in two days.

It’s not hard to figure out that Harry Potter means a lot to me, based on how detailed I get when I tell the story of how I got into it and my experience reading all of the books. But Harry Potter means a lot to me for many different reasons, one of them obviously being that it made me like reading again. Ever since I read the Harry Potter series in its full entirety, I haven’t had a problem with reading. Whether it be for leisure or a required reading I have to do for a class. But there is another reason, a deep reason, why this series had such an impact on me and why it means so much to me.

To put it simply, I identify with Harry a lot more than a lot of people realize. Granted, I wasn’t an orphan and I never had a half-giant break down my door and tell me I was a witch. But I identified with his home life a little too much. For a good majority of the series, when Harry’s not at Hogwarts or with the Weasleys, he’s forced to be at his aunt and uncle’s house. And while he’s at their house, he’s treated like garbage and borderline abused. I’ll admit, I didn’t have it quite as bad as he did. I wasn’t locked in a cupboard under the stairs for any length of time or anything like that. But I was forced to deal with a lot of emotional abuse any time I had to stay with my dad for any length of time. I won’t go into details right now, but my visits with them got to the point where I would be crying to my mom the day before I had to leave because I didn’t want to go. My dad and stepmom would say things to me that no impressionable kid should hear. And to top it off, I even had a stepbrother who bullied and teased me the whole way through my visit. Much like how Harry had Dudley Dursley. And to my horror, my dad and stepmom would turn a blind eye whenever my stepbrother did something to me, just like how Vernon and Petunia would turn a blind eye whenever Dudley did something to Harry. In Vernon and Petunia’s eyes, Dudley could do no wrong and he was the golden child. Just like how in my dad and stepmom’s eyes, my stepbrother could do no wrong and he was the golden child.

Taking everything I just mentioned in the above paragraph into consideration, Harry Potter made me feel like I wasn’t alone. It gave me an outlet for me to turn to whenever I was at my dad’s and I needed something to distract me from all of the dysfunction. I knew I had an escape. Just like Harry did with Hogwarts. It reminded me that, despite there being bad apples out there, there are good people out there as well who care about you and love you. Harry Potter gave me the strength I needed to get through my visits with my dad.

I also think it’s very fitting that Harry Potter helped me when my depression sunk to an all-time low, given that J.K. Rowling was depressed when she wrote the series. That’s how she came up with the idea of dementors. And once again, Harry Potter made me feel like I wasn’t alone. It was an outlet for me. It gave me a certain sense of hope and strength I needed. It may sound corny, but, in some weird way, Harry Potter saved me.

Over the years, I’ve encountered a lot of people who find my attachment to Harry Potter weird. And to be fair, I can understand where they’re coming from. I have the same initial thought when someone starts rambling about their attachment to something that I never saw the hype in, like Star Wars. But it’s like I (and Daniel Radcliffe) like to say – in the grand scheme of things, being attached and obsessed with a movie and/or book series really isn’t the worst thing.

I may not have been a fan at the very beginning, but I’ll be a fan until the very end. This series was my childhood and I can’t ever find the words to express how grateful I am that J.K. Rowling got stuck on a delayed train back to London and The Boy Who Lived came fully formed into her mind. I can’t express how grateful I am that she found the strength to write through her depression and the darkest days of her life. I can’t express how grateful I am that she never gave up trying to publish, even though she was rejected twelve times. And I can’t express how grateful I am that she found the courage to let us into her magical world, both through the books and the movies. A simple thank you doesn’t feel like enough, but it’ll have to do. Thank you, J.K. Rowling. For my childhood, for this magical world, for everything.