#i am WEEPING about this at 2am

[daylighteclipsed]

Was wondering what the BD in BD-1 stands for and

Bbuddy droid… he made to be a buddy. Best buddy

[semi-automaticlonelyboy]

brutal love is a good ass opener to an album and it never fails to rip my soul to pieces with every listen

[densewentz]

Dense, it looks like you need enrichment in your enclosure, so I thought I'd let you know that I've gone feral for your Dreamling Dads AU. There's like 3 oneshots drafted on my computer. There's a 20K+ longshot fic worked out in bullet points. There's Kian and Matthew playing pranks on Dream. There's a holiday special with family Christmas Cards. There's eldritch powers. There's quality parenting.

Your Kian took over my NaNoWriMo gosh dang it I was supposed to be working on something else.

And yet. Here I am, with a 7000+ word doc filled with thoughts and ideas about this baby boy and his eldritch dad and his slightly less-eldritch dad.

I really want to post something soon, I'll be sure to let you know if I can actually pencil it in amidst the New Years heyday.

This just literally made my entire day I'm going to weep openly wtf??? Inflicting Kian and his Centennial Dads on this fandom has been such a treat for me, and that you guys seem to actually be enjoying it makes me absolutely feral!! I cannot WAIT to read just, all of that?? That is so wild and I'm going to be champing at the bit now. Definitely let me know if/when you share any of it 💕 Have a quicky 2am sketch as a treat!! (kian thanks u for your love)

[bl3ss3dbyt1amat]

misc bg3 companion hc

this is so much. i have no idea and im also sorry. all of the origin companions included under the cut

astarion:

i feel like he claps funny. like hes clapping but its that specific way thats meant to be like quieter? like clapping on the palm of his hand. this might be projection but i feel like hes also the type of person to do like a little clap or a spin or his trademark ridiculous giggle whenever hes happy.

i think that hes prone to dramatics like. like pretending to fall on the floor and die if you say hes actually not on your mind 24/7. oh whats that? you dont think im the prettiest princess in the entire world? well astarion has dramatically fallen to the floor

in the early game astarion most definitely practiced his lines loudly and publicly (in camp). he cant even see himself in the mirror but hes trying to look all suave and being like "shall i compare thee to a summers night" while lae'zel and shadowheart both shout "NO" from across the camp. (can be interpreted as bloodiedblade/wyllstarion but i think wyll would be amused and even finish the quote).

wyll:

this man is probably good with basic medicines and ill die on this hill. hes got aloe vera type shit on him at all times. sure, hes not a cleric or healer or even a bard, but he'll stay with you and try his damned best to cheer you up when youre hurt or sick.

on a related note i feel like wyll would be absolutely DELIGHTED by a bard tav. he would just be so amused and filled with whimsy. never gonna complain about playing, even if its like 2am. just occasionally putting in song requests. hes so incredibly enthusiastic like spinning tav around like "THAT WAS BRILLIANT!!!"

wyll probably keeps houseplants. (minor blazingblade but i feel like karlach would accidentally kill one of the plants and actually begin weeping. once she gets her engine fixed wyll tries to teach her how to garden. this goes weirdly) furthermore i think he like goes around his house like humming merrily and watering his plants and crap

gale:

i dont think hes coordinated at all. like this man is tripping down the stairs on a daily basis. he is dropping his tea, his book, his body, ect. to the point that hes got a habit of just hugging the railing for dear life every time he has to go down a staircase. this made traversing shit like the underdark actually literally horrible. every time he falls karlach is so overly concerned and probably offers to carry him. astarion, to everyones dismay, dies laughing each and every time

pretty sure wyll and shadowheart have a conversation about weird book porn. i am here to say that gale was holding back his power while that conversation happened. gale has read so much book porn and if you knew the real scale of it you would be concerned. tara is concerned at least.

shadowheart:

especially during early game, i feel like shadowheart was literally clenching so hard to avoid admitting cute things were cute. like "oh.. a stray mutt... charming I MEAN IN LIKE A GROSS WAY". she was trying to hard to be all scary and into shar and shit but she just really likes puppies and other animals and crap

if she were modern i feel like she would really like pixar movies (inside out comes to mind for reasons i cannot explain) and wear long jean skirts. i cant explain any of this but it is fact in my mind. even in the bg3 setting i do feel like she would wear very long boxy type skirts. sort of plays into her whole "dark priestess" sort of vibe

shadowheart was sitting in her tent with scissors fucking losing her shit with anxiety trying to cut her own bangs without a mirror. it is a literal miracle from selune that they dont look like complete and total shit. no wonder halsin was surprised. (minor silverheart/shadow'zel: when she first like actually properly noticed what shaodwheart did with her hair, since the initial joke is she cant tell what changed, i think lae'zel was very impressed. she even likened it to like a sort of war paint against shar. also we KNOW lae'zel likes silver)

(can be interpreted as bladeheart/,,, do wyll and shadowheart have a ship name yet? HM. well anyway i think that in conjunction with the previous headcanon about wyll gardening, he and shadowheart garden together and he specially grew her night orchids)

lae'zel:

ever since i looked at her stupid little mindflayer training dummie in camp ive had the image of her in my head very angrily and intensly carving up a turnip to look like a mindflayer. draws a little mean face on it like the worlds most violent six year old. every time she messes up on her little DIY project shes muttering curses in tir'su.

lae'zel will take any opportunity to infodump about githyanki culture. specifically red dragons. if she met a red dragonborn or even maybe a follower of tiamat or some shit she would be so hype. in her "i hate everyone SVAH" way ofc. but like. trying to casually slide trivia into battle conversation or party banter with all the subtlety of an owlbear. "yes... the battle preparations are proceeding as expected... as expected a red dragons hibernation cycle..." and everyone just has to turn their head and ask what the fuck shes talking abt

(can be thought of as silverweave: lae'zel and gale talk in draconic about dragon history and the celestial plane. hes so tickled to have a mutual interest with lae'zel)

no one hears lae'zel laugh but when they do its so weird. like its some weird like hissing sort of sound and everyone has to do a double take and make sure theyre understanding what the fuck is going on for a second. lae'zel is incredibly defensive when people notice it but theyre not trying to be mean

karlach:

before her engine gets fixed but like early on to where shes not used to it, karlach keeps trying to touch things and keeps breaking them. this fills her with genuine despair and she will start crying (everyone in camp has to go on a group effort to calm her down). she just thinks the world is so beautiful and is so sad she cant interact with it

she likes to dance but in like a boot stompin way. karlach is probably just an absolute party animal when she gets her freedom back because honestly in her situation who wouldnt be. SHE JUST GOT TO NOT BE ON FIRE LET THE GIRL PARTY

once shes been fixed to the point where she can touch people, she just never stops. manhandling everyone in the party constantly. oh whats that? tav is on low health? dont worry karlach is sprinting over to put tav on her shoulder. literally any problem can be solved by karlach hugs and i wont be taking feedback on this

[miceenscene]

oh i'm EXCEEDINGLY entertained

@miceenscene 😂

[getittogetherk]

Monday, November 11, 2024

Another very long lapse without writing, although there was a day that I sat down to write but none of my internet pages would work because somehow my clock wasn't right, and I guess i was unable to get it working because when i tried again today, there was still an error, but this time it was able to resolve itself.

things have felt odd. i was on a high after my birthday. i felt seen, understood, loved, cared for. i was reminded of friendships new and old. i feel renewed love and appreciation for people like amy and matt. i actually also saw the old venice group a few days ago and thought of how much i cared for and love patti and the other matt. but kelda mentioned that another part of this up ride has been anh, and meeting her, and spending so much time with her, and that little fire of desire and want flaring up again.

we've been spending a lot of time together lately. i think she's spent a total of four nights at my place (her on the bed, me on the couch), and there was one morning where i had gone to meet matt k for a morning hike and came back two hours later and i had left a post it about grabbing waffles later, and when i arrived, she was sitting cozily on the couch, wrapped in a throw, watching tv, and she had washed the dishes and neatly stacked them in the rack. she seemed comfortable, and there was something very familiar and nice about her being there, about someone being there when i came home, someone waiting for me, and i remembered what it was like to live with a partner, and i guess i had missed it.

of course with that comes all of the terror and the angst and the knowing that it isn't mutual and that despite the overall deep friendship and intimacy, there is no partnership that is being considered. she is straight. i am not. and she seems to have little to no interest in exploring that and i don't even know if i would want her to, knowing how hard it was for me and how hard it has been historically for people like me to have to confront the world with this.

it's a monday, veteran's day, and hence a holiday. this past weekend was packed. dunsmoor on friday for dinner with amy l, grace g, and grace h. i had somewhat been dreading this meeting with grace h, but i got very drunk and was able to be social and talkative although at some point the conversation turned to jadai and cooper which brought on the usual weeping. i started nodding off at the end of the night and knew i couldn't drive back home immediately, so after we said our goodbyes (only because it was almost 2am and the bar was closing), i took a frigid nap in the backseat before getting home a little after 3am.

the next day was a 9am vbas meeting, so i did not sleep enough, followed by brunch at huckleberry in santa monica, and then some general hangage at malex's, and then getting some pastries with patti and jeff at tartine, where i didn't eat or drink anything, but did get two fancy pastries for anh, and then drove to koreatown to hand them off to her. the rest of the day was bedrotting.

sunday morning was pickleball with matt and the ceo crew. matt came by at 7:15am and we met the group at about 7:30 in burbank and i played with matt, jeff c., and andy (joyce's husband), and we had some really good games and banter and i walked away feeling really good. once i got matt back to my place, he left, and then sook called and we ended up getting brunch at foxy's, which was also good, but i think around then i started getting self conscious about where i was with anh, and sent a jokey text to joyce that i don't think she responded well to, and then i got more self conscious and started spiraling, and i think the fact that i hadn't taken my meds the day before or that day yet exacerbated it. i didn't go to church, mainly because instead of a regular service there was going to be some sort of "community in the park" day with i guess a picnic atmosphere and discussion and processing about the recent election and general state of the world, and i didn't think i wanted that, so i had the brunch and then went to home depot for a bit, and then to the vbas to be door monitor, before going home, making some very unappetizing pasta, and then tossing and turning and looking desperately at my phone for something that would pique my interest, and not, and feeling very bad and sad and at some point came to two convictions: lose weight. distance myself from anh, as i could start to feel the tumult, the madness creep up again and i could feel it going out of control and affecting my day to day emotions.

also to prioritize health and especially sleeping more, because i know what an effect it has on my general well being and especially mood, and i can just feel that i've been off for the last couple weeks.

i want to turn a new leaf, again.

however, i am realizing that there are some new ... beginnings, some signs of health and normalcy and even ... improvement:

taking up some long-overdue cleaning projects: getting the bathroom re-painted and replacing the outdated fixtures such as towel racks, toilet paper rack, and vanity light. consolidating the fishing gear that has been scattered about the condo to one corner. handwashing the pillows and cushions for my loveseat. buying a new plant. listening to new music, specifically billy eilish. at least considering new and healthy recipes. moving my work station to my desk in my bedroom to clear up my dining room table.

other things i want to take on in the next few months: organizing my fishing closet, especially now that i've re-acquired my motor and associated gear from mike b. selling/giving away unused items. listing and selling my dad's photography equipment on offerup. seeing old friends more often such as sue and steven t. replanting some plants and also throwing away the dead ones.

i know i should be celebrating these new developments but i can feel i'm in a bit of a low place, but that's not to say i'll be here forever, and i can feel that this is temporary, and kelda and being more aware of my moods on a 1-10 scale and being mindful of what is contributing to my moods has been helpful in realizing that there are certain things that will improve my mood such as taking walks while listening to The Read, playing pickleball, seeing friends, and cleaning/organizing, as well as things that will make me feel bad, such as drinking too much and ruining the subsequent couple days, and speaking/texting too quickly trying to be funny when i realize after the fact that i've actually been offensive.

i do feel some growth, some improvement, etc., and i know i need to capitalize on this momentum, and as i've stated earlier, be aware that my down mood now is temporary and will lift once i have some positive and affirming experiences with friends and family, and get some much needed rest, so i will try to focus on these things in the coming days and weeks.

signing off, ghil

[purplecobra52]

Lone Wolf Radio Rewrite

There was always something odd to me about Lone Wolf Radio.

On the surface, it’s nothing more than an abandoned trailer in the middle of the Mojave Wasteland. It’s full of broken audio equipment that must have been used to send out a pirate radio signal, and piles of empty whiskey bottles on the floor. There’s no valuable loot besides a Sunset Sarsaparilla star cap and a copy of The Wasteland Survival Guide. And of course there’s the graffiti. A painted warning, Keep Out, scrawled on the outside. And of course, a final, chilling sentence written on the inside wall: "Everyone is gone. I am all alone. Let it all end."

The location tells a chilling story: that of a conspiracy theorist who ran a pirate radio station, who became trapped once the bombs fell and spent his last days alone and hopeless. It’s such an interesting location that when I first stumbled across it while playing, I’d assumed that there would be something to do. A sidequest of some sort, a new character to interact with, a new game mechanic. Something, anything for the location.

But there isn’t. There is nothing more to Lone Wolf Radio than what you can find in the trailer, which is why it felt so odd. It feels incomplete. I felt like Lone Wolf Radio had a story to tell, and it just...didn’t happen in the game. And so, I started trying to understand why.

I should have just left it alone. It would be better if I had left it alone.

I made a post to a forum, asking if anyone else thought that the story of Lone Wolf Radio felt strangely incomplete, and soon enough, someone replied to it.

_mar7717: thats because it is. I worked on New Vegas and there was much more to the location.

Me: Seriously? What do you mean?

_mar7717: i was a programmer so i don’t know every detail, but ill tell you what I know. there was a major questline that surrounded Lone Wolf. i can’t say too much, but in short, if you turned on your radio at 2am in game, you would hear the broadcaster with some vaugly cultish ramblings and then he’d kill someone while live. Every week or so the whole process would repeat, and it would intensify if you ignored the broadcast to the point he would murder a child.

The claim sounded dubious. Fallout could be a pretty dark series, I knew that as well as anybody, but audible child murder was…something else. I sucked in a breath and wrote a reply.

Me: How far along was development before it was cut?

_mar7717: we were mostly finished but then we got a message from upstairs that they wanted the entire questline cut from the game for “undisclosed reasons”.

Me: Do you think there's any way to activate the quest now? I want to do that.

_mar7717: yeah actually i think a lot of the files are actually still there. i still have some of the code and i could send it to you to help since you seem so set on it. But are sure you want to do this? i remember that the story was really dark.

Me: It’s not like I have anything else better to do. Thanks.

Over the next few days, I searched the game for the missing files and managed to find every single one. The employee sent me the code, along with a few extra files, and I went about restoring the quest. (I had to look up a Youtube tutorial but managed it in the end.) Finally, when I was sure that everything was in order, I started a new save. As I watched the opening cutscene play out, I wondered what would come of this quest. I was a little nervous, but mostly excited to be the first to play it.

A few hours commenced and nothing happened. I was starting to worry that I had somehow messed something up, when suddenly, while I was wandering through the desert, New Vegas shining in the distance, Lone Wolf Radio came on. I immediately stopped whatever I was doing and focused on the broadcast.

A voice spoke. He sounded…strange. Demented. "All alone! I am the last true person alive! All around me the skies weep and the earth howls for blood. The very pits of the great below open for another offering. I hope this meager soul pleases you!"

All a sudden, I heard another voice, a man. He was scared.

"Lemme go! S-someone help!"

"You pathetic creature. You do not deserve to stand before the mother of the depths! Oh Earth! Take this flesh and enjoy its blood!"

"NO PLEASE DON'T-"

It sounded like a knife was really being worked into the man’s torso. He screamed desperately for a long second before he fell silent. As the brodcast ended, I just sat there, stunned. The whole thing sounded incredibly real. As I stared dumbly at the screen, I received a new questline.

THE LONE WOLF.

It took me a little while to make my way to the trailer. Long enough for another sacrifice, this time of a woman. She screamed for much longer than the man before she was silenced by the broadcaster. I squirmed in my seat as I listened to her cries. I wanted the quest to be over with as soon as possible.

Finally, I made it to the trailer. The first thing I noticed about the area was there was no music, but I just assumed it was because of a missing file. The other thing I noticed was the trailer had more graffiti on it. They looked much fresher than the previous two pieces. One of them read “Depths of the earth, steal our flesh”, and the other was two tally marks. I stared at them for a moment, and then made my way inside.

There was a raider NPC inside, which I assumed to be a placeholder. When he saw me, he ran towards me chanting something about the earth. I shot him like thirty times with my shotgun before he went down. At that moment, the questline registered as finished. I took a long kitchen knife off of his corpse, and then turned to see the corpses of the man and the woman.

There was something off about them. It wasn’t just that their faces were stretched in horror and that they were covered in stab wounds. It wasn’t just that some of their fingers were missing, and parts of their flesh were carved out. It was more than that, something deeper that was throwing me off. I studied them for a long time until I realized why. They didn’t look right. Their hair didn’t exist in the game. Their faces were highly detailed, straight out of the uncanny valley. Their clothes didn’t seem to fit within the fallout universe. The posing of their bodies seemed deliberate. I don’t know how else to explain it, but they looked wrong.

I had finished the quest, but according to the employee, it was also possible to listen to the murder of a child. I had a sense of morbid curiosity regarding that element of the quest. And so, I loaded an early save and tuned into the radio.

It was hard to listen to. Victim after victim was slaughtered for the world to hear, each execution more bone-chilling then the last. There was an elderly man who was beaten savagely, forced to scream until he was hoarse before he was finally killed. There was a teenage girl who called for mom as she was stabbed over and over. There was a young couple, slowly tortured and killed one after the other. There were so many different people, and each of them met a horrific end. I knew it had to be fake, but it was still terrible. No wonder it had been cut.

Then finally, when I thought it would go on forever, I heard a child’s voice. A little boy. He couldn’t have been older than six.

“Earth, take this last sacrifice,” the broadcaster said.

The child sounded scared. “Hello? I wanna go home.”

“It ends tonight! Everything! Ahahahahaha…”

“Please let me go home! PLEASE-”

STAB. “PLEASE!”

STAB. “PLEASE!”

STAB. “Please!”

STAB “P-Please!”

STAB “please…”

STAB.

I uninstalled the game after that. I wanted it off of my desktop. I never wanted to see Fallout: New Vegas on my computer ever again. It had to be some sort of sick joke. It just had to be.

Me: WHAT THE HELL

_mar7717: what?

ME: HOLY SHIT IT SOUNDED LIKE AN ACTUAL MURDER. IT SOUNDED LIKE A SNUFF FILM.

_mar7717: sounded? there was voice acting?

ME: YES! It was so fucking disturbing! What the hell was that?!

_mar7717: but that should be impossible. there shouldn’t be any.

Me: What?!

_mar7717: we never got to record diolouge for that quest. what did you hear?

[socially-awkward-velociraptor]

hi I’m sorry I need to talk abt Jim in Our Flag Means Death for a hot moment bc I’m going to start crying to myself at 2AM otherwise.

SPOILERS FOR OFMD BELOW

when I was 10-13, my absolute favorite trope was Girl Disguises Self As Boy. It didn’t matter what genre the book was, how long, when it was written, what it was about—if it had a girl disguising herself as a boy, I would devour it.

The first time I heard the word “nonbinary,” I was 16. The first time I connected it with my own experiences, I was 18. As a kid who didn’t know how to describe who I was—a girl but Not Really Right was the closest I got—I loved that trope. It described someone mixing genders, blurring lines in a way that was hard to achieve anywhere else. And it bears thinking, for me, that in my favorite of these books (the Leviathan series by Scott Westerfeld) the girl is never actually described giving up her disguise, and what happens next is mostly left up to the reader’s assumptions and imagination.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but my transness found its strongest expression through that “disguise”; through the blur of lines between gender, through the act of not-quite-man, not-quite-girl. And though I always felt (at the time, because I didn’t realize I was bisexual either) that obviously the girl had to come clean in order to have a romance, I was also always disappointed when the disguise was done and when she was back to just being a girl.

Which is why Jim means so much to me.

They are revealed to have been a “girl” disguised as a man. That’s the end I’m familiar with. But when asked if they were a woman all along, they answer, “yeah. I don’t know. Maybe.” They tell the pirates to keep calling them Jim—and the pirates slip seamlessly into using they/them pronouns for them.

The disguised identity part is up, but Jim holds onto their gender that is not entirely male and not entirely female. And it’s everything I ever wanted to see as a 12 year old—I’m not even kidding, I think if this show had come out when I was that age, I think I would have figured out my gender identity much, much more quickly, because it’s everything I wanted without knowing I wanted at the time: a way to keep the lines between genders blurred, and a way to be a “girl” disguised as a boy without actually needing to be a girl at all. This show is really good, and it’s enjoyable no matter what—but Jim has such a special place in my heart, and I am so so happy that the creators made room for someone who is clearly not a girl or a boy to take a mainish role with their own side quest, of which their disguise is only a part.

anyway go watch ofmd if y’all haven’t seen it yet, it’s queer and incredible and I’m going to start weeping about it right here and now.

[fancy-rock-dove]

Alicia, ALICIA HOLY SHIT.

This is. Incredible. Where do I even begin???!!! Not in my wildest dreams when I was yelling or thinking or drawing about this story did I imagine any of it ending up in something this thoughtfully curated and beautiful. I am actually literally weeping in front of my screen. I'm???? Verklempt but I will try to find some words because this deserves so many of them.

I mean, just, you know that I adore the appreciation of transformative works as a collaborative endeavor, a showcase of the way art and creation is part of an ongoing conversation no matter where it's happening and the way that fandom in particular is so founded on that community and the creation of that conversation in real time for the love of it, but. This. THISSS. The way you've captured that in this. The way. That you feature that elevation of fanwork here by hosting it in the same format as that used for the long-term version of that collaborative process in a volume like the Odyssey (the conversation between the storytellers and translators and academics and historians surrounding something like a Homeric epic) is INSPIRED.

I mean LOOK AT IT. You lifted and inverted the colors from the Penguin Classics Fagles cover. It looks right at home next to it how dare you?? (affectionate) I have that EXACT copy sitting on my desk with the multicolored mess of annotations in the margins stretching over the past decade, the thin spots worn in the turning edge of the covers from handling, the sketch of a lard ball during the bow stringing scene because I think I thought it was hilarious in a bout of 2am discussion prep. And this copy of Wings riffs off it wonderfully. The ships and the scrolls and the baobab on the back cover!!! The endpapers with the pattern that evokes the yellow dust and the sunlight and the red of rubies or ribbons and the sea!! And matches the cover!!!!

The typeset is beautiful. The way all of the chapter titles were moved or split or positioned relative to the chapter heading art is so cool and dynamic. The whole entire set of appendices is gorgeous: the inclusion of the icon photos, the timestamps, the careful preservation of the sense of the original medium while also making it look full and beautiful on the page. The photo paper art section! Those two-page spreads that rendered beautifully!

And the actual binding is gorgeous. The glossy finish on the boards looks so, so satisfying. The colors in your endbands fit perfectly. And I was noticing that hint of red bole-color on your edge gilding in that close up you posted the other day! Especially classic look! And excellently matched to the color scheme! (The big Red Book red-leather-bound copy of LOTR that was in our house growing up had edge gilding with actual red bole color like this and I have a very strong association between it and high quality, well-beloved books, so it's probably hitting me extra hard visually tbh).

And, just, I don't know if I can ever say enough just how absolutely, uniquely lovely it is to be in this fandom where people are Having These Discussions. I couldn't be more touched and delighted and grateful to have met the people I have in this fandom, and I love looking for your comments on fics and reading your insights and thoughts about the ongoing, collaborative, iterative process of seeing and making more meaning out of art. Heather's writing and meta and discussion pulled me right in and it is a fantastic time and we are all just unbearably lucky to have her and you and get to see the things you make!!! I will just be here crying over this.

Everyone look at this!! Everyone go read it!!! ToT ToT ToT ToT

Last Binderary book is DONE!!!! This is the incredible Maybe sprout wings, by @moorishflower.

This post is going to be a doozy, so gonna just skip straight to the cut!

INTERIOR

INTRODUCTION

I really wanted to model this bind after my own copy of the Odyssey, (which is all highlighted and bookmarked and annotated to hell from my Great Text courses in undergrad ehe, so this bind was such a fun trip down memory lane!). But beyond just the cover/general aesthetic, I also wanted to give the book a similar feel to these kinds of editions of classics--there's usually an introduction, translation notes, and other supplementary materials, right? Like, a physical manifestation of the work of many, many people, all having conversations with one another across time and space.

So that's what I did! I wrote a short introduction (I will also probably post it to my AO3/my blog as well, in the name of preservation etc. etc.) and began reaching out to folks in the fandom who I knew had created art and meta for the fic. The result? 18k words of analysis, comments, and meta, and nearly twenty pages of art!

And this is what I love most about this bind, I think! This book is the work of several people--truly a collaborative work by the fandom--all of whom I will now be shamelessly calling out below :D

CHAPTER HEADER ART

First and foremost, this book would not be what it is without the gorgeous header art by @fancy-rock-dove! Thank you so much Dove for letting include your work, and for being so supportive and kind these past few weeks about this bind <3 You in particular have contributed so much to this book (which I will be getting more into in the next section ehe), and I'm so psyched I get to hold your art and words, too!

NOTES ON THE TEXT

This section was divided into four parts: Asks and Answers, Meta, Selected Comments, and Chapter Heading Art: Process

For Asks and Answers, I trawled Heather's blog for meta she had written in response to questions and other meta about the fic. Asks came from @fancy-rock-dove, @quillingwords, @kulapti, and myself! (I THINK I got all of them--tumblr's search function is finnicky even on its best days, so so sorry if I missed something T_T) I first got hooked into reading this fic because of one of these asks, so I'm very fond of this section in particular :D

For Meta, I included two wonderful essays written by @pastrypuppy (also known as @kulapti) about Hob as an author figure and the Disrupted Fisher King narrative in MSW. Her analyses were so fascinating and I just had to include them in the book! (And thank you as well for your permission, friend!) (also hello fellow Renegade comrade 🫡)

For Selected Comments, I owe everything to (once again :3) @fancy-rock-dove, whose insights are the epitome of transformative fandom at work. I'd look for their comments after I read every chapter to see what their takes were on this or that element of the story, and every single time I would go "!!!!! I didn't even realize!!!" or "OOOOOOOH I hadn't thought of that!!" It was like being in a lecture hall and always whipping your head around when one of your classmates raised their hand, because you knew they were going to say something fascinating that you hadn't considered before.

Aside from one of my own comments, Dove's comments make up the entirety of this section (for which I owe you my life--your long-form responses to fics are a gift to this world) but GOSH was it also so much fun going through the comments section while typesetting and seeing all the keyboard smashing, yelling, and crying from the other commenters. Communal nature of storytelling and ongoing meaning-making of fanfiction, babey!

And finally for Chapter Heading Art: Process: once again Dove coming in clutch with some wonderful insights into the design of each of the chapter heading art pieces! This kind of stuff is honestly my favorite: meta about art for a fic which is, in turn, a transformation of an existing story (not even to mention that The Sandman is its own kind of fanfiction of existing mythologies and histories)--I just!! Think it's all really, really neat :'D (for more coherent/polished thoughts on this pls see my introduction asjdfkls)

ART

The art gallery!!! A million thanks to @fishfingersandscarves, @honeyseller, @jazzpsych, @doctor-rainbowfoxey, and (HI AGAIN DOVE) @fancy-rock-dove for granting me permission to include all of your beautiful pieces!

As usual for artworks in my binds, I printed each piece out on specialty photo paper to really make the colors pop, then sewed each page separately to the text block! Behold, everyone's beautiful beautiful pieces!

The art gallery also satisfies the certain "oooh shiny" part of my brain that always activates when I see pictures in a book, so am also very fond of this section :3

CONSTRUCTION

And now on to the nitty gritty stuff! I used the German Bradel binding technique again, my second time using it. Even though it's more complicated than the case bind, I really love how it gives you the full board space for the cover designs (~it's free real estate~). Keep it a secret but I kiiiiiiind of made a small goof in the last few steps (I did the turn-ins a step too early and so had to paste an extra sheet of cardstock to secure the spine to the boards, whoopsie), but it's a pretty small difference, aesthetically speaking, so it wasn't the end of the world XD

Edges are once again fake gilded, but this time I tried something new with the colors! I did two layers of acrylic paint--one watered down shade of red for the base, then one metallic gold on top of that. I really like the red/gold effect! I'll have to keep experimenting with this kind of layering:

ALSO. Y'ALL! I think I'm finally getting the hang of endbands!!! Many thanks to the folks at Renegade who hosted all the endband workshops last month--I'm still working through them, but even the few sessions I've seen have been TREMENDOUSLY helpful. I learned that tension is Very Important, as well as thread thickness, so I tried doubling my thread and keeping a Very Close Eye on how I was holding the threads while doing the beads. And behold! I still have a ways to go (and one day I would LOVE to do the fancier designs), but I'm v happy with the progress I've made so far!

And finally the covers!! ARCHIVAL MOD PODGE MY BELOVED. I printed on the same matte presentation paper that I used for the art, then did several coats of archival matte mod podge + a pass of gloss mod podge over the title strip to make it ~shiny~. Then once those had dried and I'd adhered them to the boards, I sprayed two layers of matte clear acrylic sealer (also mod podge!) to finish it off. I had some issues with the paper tearing when I handled it before it was fully dry, but luckily the blemishes were small enough that it was easy to do spot corrections with my black acrylic paint. And now I know to be more patient next time LOL

(some non-photoshoot shots that show the shine a little better!)

FINAL THOUGHTS

I had a lot of thoughts while I was binding this book--about Sandman fandom, about Dreamling fandom, about the Odyssey, about storytelling, about fanbinding, about Binderary, about Renegade, about my friends--but really what came to mind the most was gratitude!

Simply put, I'm so grateful to everyone I've met both in this fandom and throughout the years I've been active online--this is SO fun, y'all. It's so much fun to love stories together--to talk about them, to write them, and of course to bind them! I hope I've adequately conveyed that gratitude.

But of course, this book would not exist without the wonderful words of @moorishflower. Heather, thank you so, SO much for sharing your stories, thoughts, and time with us--it is always a happier, better day when I get an email notif from you and when I see you on my dash. I love your work so much, and I'm so happy I finally get to put it on my shelf! So thank you so much again, for everything <3

and OKAY THAT'S IT FROM ME FOLKS!!!!! Binderary 2023 is officially a wrap! I had SUCH a blast--will probably write up a reflection post on it uhhhh after I take a very long nap ajslkdfjslk _(:3」∠)_

all my love! <3

[totallyboatless]

Just sitting here thinking about the things Our Flag Means Death has in common with Bojack Horseman in terms of style, stick with me:

In Bojack, it’s already funny to have animals acting like people and doing people things, but the comedy is amplified anytime we’re reminded that, actually, these animals are also literally animals. Princess Carolyn chases a hanging mouse on a treadmill. Mr. Peanutbutter gets overly excited and barks when someone rings the doorbell and hangs his head out of the window when riding in the car. Also their names are Princess Carolyn and Mr. Peanutbetter. It maintains this consistent ability to subvert expectations; it sets the initial expectation of “these look like animals, but actually they’re more like you,” then turns it on its head so that they’re more animals than people, then it resets. It also acts as a quick and easy way to take a break from some of the more depressing shit, and (like all good comedy imo) allows the audience to feel more comfortable engaging with those heavier topics because they know the safety net of a gag will likely pop up in the scene to break the tension.

(and then the writers take advantage of that to lure you in and slowly expose you to the heartbreak and then quietly remove the safety net until suddenly it’s gone and you’re fully weeping about an anthropomorphic horse or a gay pirate at 2am)

Our Flag Means Death does something similar, if not quite as immediately apparent. Instead of the two character modes being anthropomorphic animal and literal animal, we have the characters acting as if they’re in 1717 one minute and then acting as complete anachronisms the next. There’re scenes like Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill where there’s the implied existence of a 1717 version of Yelp, or Fang wearing a Hot Topic belt on his head, or Olu in Crocs, or Frenchie referencing fanfiction, and these are all things that make us bond and relate to the characters much more quickly because they share our shorthand and pieces of our world. But then we get these interjections of undeniable 1717 pirate shit: they get really excited about torturing hostages, they have to deal with scurvy, Frenchie thinks that women have crystals in their blood that attract demons, Roach is the “medic” but “knives are knives, meat’s meat” is his professional approach.

Having that whiplash between “they’re just like us!” to “I am not at all a part of this world” is delightful when done right, and both these shows do it very right, thank u 4 visiting my headspace

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

So last January i started keeping a notes page for recording tags that made me laugh or smile. I was reading through them and realized it been over a year since i started. So i decided to post them to make you all smile too. The fandoms are in no specific order, but i did post my favorite tags at the top of each section. I used the ";" as a break between tags. Ao3 uses "," but several tags included their own "," and "#" made things harder to read so i swapped it out for ";"

These tags are 95% from ao3 fics (many of them from the same fics). The other 5% consist of tumblr tags, fic titles, and the occasional author note/funny fic quote that i loved so much i wrote it down. I dont remember what each fic each tag was from*, so please dont ask for links, but as they're tags you should be able to search them in the ao3 search engine. However if you want specification to which character a tag was referring to, i do remember that.

*im 99% certain these tags were for that fandom

Not fandom specific/i cant remember which fandom

I will take these crumbs of characterization and bake them into a cake myself so help me god

i don't make the facts people i just gently unearth them from the subtext

author is a trash can not a trash can't

Please keep in mind that Canon Timeline has died tragically in a fire, and I am but the weeping widow with an inheritance

I'm not so much taking liberties with canon at this point as flirting outrageously and never calling back for a second date

shameless wish fulfillment; like this is what i want to see and you can watch i guess

31k notes and counting as of this tag sweet jesus you all need church and the bible and the vatican

I will not explain my rarepairs; they're in love now. that's how it is

Cursed By a Mage; That Mage? Albert Einstein

did i just write a different fix-it for this episode two days ago; Yes. yes i did

unforgivable foreshadowing

The Cain Instinct

Destiny's a Bitch: A Love Story

F@¢k Amatonormativity

the untaggable qpr strikes again

they h#ld h?nds ok

it's about the yearning

Star Wars

The Mandalorian & TBOBF

Destiny is calling and it doesn't care if Din has blocked its number

love is stored in the head bonk

*Slaps roof of random Deathwatch Member* this guy can fit so much love and affection for Din Djarin in him

Din does NOT have the Darksaber; because what does he need?; an ulcer?

Din is low key demi and no one makes a deal about it

Mand'alor the Reluctant

platonic love is what healed his lonely existence

when in doubt: road trip with the besties

Accidental Baby Acquisition (A LEGIT TAG)

TCW

Not even death can stop plo koon's dad instincts

General Hothead the Thothead

anakin skywalker eats live bugs

Anakin figures it out first, which is pretty dang embarrassing

SWR

2am bathroom break at a dingy rest area in the backwoods of appalachia vibes

Or: How the Ghost Crew got banned from Space Costco

Kanan Jarrus: The Daddening

Movies (Sequel Trilogy)

The Traveling Jacket

MCU/general Marvel

This is why we can't have nice things

in which our heroes meet where they belong; IN THE TRASH

An Attempt Was Made At A Romantic Gesture

Erik is crushing harder than a 12 year old girl (A LEGIT TAG)

BROTP: She's Perfect

i will delete this later; nevermind im not deleting this, im leaving this as proof; that i am sexier and better than the entire mcu writing team

Nick Fury Deserves To Be Swept Off His Feet; And Carol Danvers Is The One To Sweep Him

Tony Stark/Acting Like A Bitch

Fury and Goose are the BROTP to end all BROTPs; watch a hardened spy become a fool for a tiny cat

the Cloak is protective; the Cloak is clingy

Middle Earth (LOTR/TH)

Legolas wants the D (the Dwarf)

Reshirement AU

Thorin Oakenshield: King Under a Massive Pile of Guilt and Self-Loathing

hate at first sight

Gandalf Ships It

Look out Middle Earth; when a elf and a hobbit decide to have an adventure; its best not to get in the way

The Witcher

i cant not write dramatic things. its bc im gay

toss a kudos to your bitcher, o valley of ao-three

Two Distinct Varieties of Commitment Issues

Pre-Relationship; by about eight hours

they should be....soft; so upon writing chapter two that one has a heady mix of angst

Im British and so's my spelling

only a jealous threesome can resolve that kind of mess

ft. the only m/f dynamic that means anything: if she can't have him executed; there's too much equality going on; and he is Into That

Jaskiers main role in this fic is to go: what the fuck

Geralt is completely gone on his common law husband and he's fine with it

the other Witchers care and want Jaskier to be safe; Geralt is amused because Jaskier is a feral bitch

Aggressive herb gathering

Grilled Chicken Sandwiches

The Wind Howls A Lot

Geralt is back on his bullshit yet again; what else is new; geralt is a dumbass first and a witcher second

cause of death: refusing gwent; (its actually being a bandit but for geralt one crime is worse than the other); (and we all know which one)

but jaskier is thirsty and geralt is an entire lake

sometimes a family is two dumbasses and their lion cub

the many shades of Unrequited Love; or is it...Requited??; who knows

Many boats get harmed in the making of this fic; Reckless Sailing

is it a romance if there isn't at least one fart joke

Cutagens | Cute Effects of Mutagens (A LEGIT TAG)

Geologically Improbable Hot Springs

nothing makes me happier than making the big rat man cry

Buckle up bitches

Kaer Morons

RWBY

This team shares one brain cell and right now it’s in Nora; NORA

James gets bullied by teenagers: the musical

Press f to pay respect for my sanity

Ozpin adopting Oscar: buy one son get one moral compass free

Yang is Summer's daughter; and Raven knows it

Avatar (ATLA)

must a fic have a plot to be good?; is it not enough to have 6K+ words of toph and zuko being bastards together?

Aang was not expecting THAT

Soul Eater

the inherent intimacy of comparing hand sizes

found family at its finest

Merlin

sir leon the long suffering

Mordred and Merlin are friends; because f@ck you thats why

Star Trek

and Jim settles into his new relationship status of "single but pining immeasurably"

Man from U.N.C.L.E. (2015)

This colossal disaster required divine intervention to fix

Intentionally sexually charged sleepover; with Illya dying a thousand deaths in the bathroom

[boypussydilf]

handsoyu akira for the send you a character thing. tell me abotu him

Heh. no ome on this blog is eber goimg to stop hearing my akira opinions

Sexuality Headcanon: hes gay. He is gay. i cannot fathom a world where akira kurusu likes girls. i can understand why other people do. but hes gay

Gender Headcanon: its my projection character + biggest kin + favoritest little man and i get to pick the Trans Guy But Slightly To The Left!!! akiras gender is kind of like my gender except my gender is green and his is red hope this helps.

A ship I have with said character: do i need to say it. d. i dontneed to say it literally everyone here fucking knows. have you guys seen akeshu its. yeah

A BROTP I have with said character: *holding all the phantom thieves in my hands and weeping* HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PICK 1 FRIENDSHIP TO POINT OUT. akira + ryuji r gay but they can be guy friends if they want. akira + ann r the ultimate gossip squad. akira and his little sister squadron. akira and makoto should either be besties or attack each other. Please he has so many friends. i love them all. theyre all good friendships

A NOTP I have with said character: in like a technical sense shutaba isnt. too terrible. but it makes me want to kill

A random headcanon: youhave to understand i have so many akira headcanons which i cherish and they all just flew ojt of my head. hmm. ive said this before but men who wikipedia deep dive. morgana wakes up at 2am and akiras sitting there w 40 tabs open bc he wanted to look up something he remembered hearing about shrimp and now hes somehow gotten to a page on medieval torture

General Opinion over said character: oh i amso normal about this little man and i think abojt him the amount that is regular. I think hes one of the best characters ever for real. he has so many traits that make for an enjoyable character: deep desire to help the people around him. autism. the jokes and japes. drama. homosexual swag. something deeply wrong with him that is so specific no one can pinpoint what it is. i like him <3

[julieverne]

I am an antisocial asshole. I flew to Canada from very far away for this and my best friend scored a ticket for me. I saw them live once, and then I headed East from Vancouver. I was in Bobcaygeon, and I saw the constellations reveal themselves one star at a time.

I indirectly followed them. I needed to see a few things. Just me in a tiny car, pulling over for every waterfall from a parched land.

And I know where I was this night. I was in Ontario. I saw every small town on my way setting up screens for this. I drove West. I couldn't keep food down at that point. A coffee only stayed down long enough to fill the cup back up when I pulled over. I was emaciated and exhausted. My body is not sturdy and I drove 8000km in three weeks. And hiked every day. Stayed in sleazy smalltown motels which I looked up after I left and read about the murders there. Slept in the car more than once when the vibe was off. Drove through the night, pulling up at a Timmies at 2am to get a litre of coffee and some blueberries from some guy in the parking lot.

And I watched their last show. I always expect to see myself in the video. But I'm not there. But I am, somewhere just out of shot, weeping in triumph, in relief, in grief. At the last song of the last show ever for these guys.

I was in Moonbeam Ontario.

There were places I'd never been and they made me want to go.

First thing we'd climb a tree And maybe then we'd talk Or sit silently And listen to our thoughts With illusions of someday Cast in a golden light No dress rehearsal This is our life

[rowanthestrange]

Spring was coming to Moscow. You could feel it in the air. You could hear it as the last of the ice shifted in the trees and fell as water. But Mrs Pelageya Vlasova felt no joy. She often wept in secret, a long and bitter weeping. She wept for love, of course, and because she did not know who it was she loved: a living man or a dead one? … She had either to forget him or to die herself. It was impossible to drag on with such a life. But he would not be forgotten, that was the trouble.

Oh I refuse to see her as a mirror... Stalkery, curious to the point of thievery and trespass, obsessive, likes neat/fancy appearance, loser, duo with the bright echolalic ’Margarita and the Master’ parrot, in the psychic bit sang the blue scarf song given to a person going to maybe never return-

…yeah. Ok. that could make for interesting Division/Gallifrey leaving ideas, especially in tandem with Karvanista’s mirroring.

She dried her eyes and thought of the last time she had seen Mikhail Afanasyevich, and had to dry them again. It was the morning he had rung her doorbell, and she had been so flustered and delighted that she forgot to worry about not wearing any make-up.

She was off.

On that last night, she had not intercepted her neighbour as she normally did, because he returned unexpectedly early. By the time she realised that he was back, he was no longer alone. She heard the sound of a party and smelt the aroma of something good in the oven. Shortly after midnight, another guest rang the bell, and joined them. Beethoven's Ninth Symphony went on the record player, too loudly for such an hour, as if to mask some other sound.

Ah, right, um-

At about 2am, everything had fallen silent. Everything except Mrs Pelageya Vlasova, who let out a long and quite unstoppable moan of disappointment.

Well, ha, I’ve got good news and bad news.

The following day, she saw nobody leave or enter the apartment. But it was not empty. She had heard low voices, then sobbing. Once, when she pressed a vodka glass to the wall, she detected the rattle of thick and troublesome breathing.

That better be you lizard bitch, not him.

'I've got the key,' said Mrs Pelageya Vlasova, turning over the copy she had cut at the heel bar the previous week. 'But I can't go in there. What am I to do, Margarita?' Margarita shifted on her perch. She seemed at a loss for words. Mrs Pelageya Vlasova decided to act. ‘I'm not doing this on my own,' she said, coaxing Margarita onto her shoulder.

Yeah your mileage may vary but I’m gonna use her as a mirror. For either of course - is this why the sonic screwdriver exists?

Pelageya Vlasova took the key from her housecoat pocket and, heart thumping, went to the door of her neighbour's flat, inserted the key and pushed open the door. After which, she clapped her hand to her mouth in horror. Mikhail Afanasyevich Gospodinov was sitting at his dining table. His hands were taped to the chair. The plastic floral tablecloth was in a state of disarray.Broken chunks of mushroom littered its glossy surface. Somebody, she realised, had been force-feeding him. The apartment was also in a state of disarray. Dirty washing, empty bottles and tins of food were thrown carelessly on the floor. Red wine and a bowl of salted peanuts had been spilled. Immobile at the dining table, Mikhail Afanasyevich did not register the presence of his neighbour. His breathing was fast and shallow and his bloodshot eyes were fixed on the middle distance. He was pulling and pursing his lips, as if his mouth were painfully dry. His unshaven skin looked raw, and there was a red mark on his face where someone had scratched him.

That is… Actually very effectively horrifying, well done.

Clearly haven’t done that much research if they didn’t understand that being dead is sort of the opposite of what he does.

'What's happened to you, Mischa? Oh my Mischa!' Pelageya Vlasova ran to the kitchen and poured a glass of water, but her neighbour seemed unable to drink it. It spilled uselessly down his face.

Yeah, very effective.

Two figures. One was a six-foot tall reptile in a tightly tailored man's suit and a platinum blonde wig. It had long painted talons and its ribbed, flute-like mouth was filled with a large Cuban cigar.

Of course it’s blonde.

Standing beside the reptile was something very like a man. It was wearing a knitted jumper, corduroy trousers and cheap black plastic shoes. For a moment Pelageya Vlasova took it be an inanimate object. A puppet or a scarecrow, something assembled from the day's unsold vegetables by the unloved son of a greengrocer.

That is an objectively bizarre description and I love it

[missdawnandherdusk]

Ten Things I Hate About You

Muggle!Born!Reader X Draco

Summary: Request: @thelostandweeping If it is possible may I request a Draco x Muggle reader. Reader is really bad at potions so Snape has Draco tutor the reader. The reader doesn't like Draco but he finds her bluntness and her ability to be aloof interesting and tries to win her over. She later shows she's actually very kind and sweet. They become best friends and later together.

A/n: Okay this... but add a bit of Shakespeare and ABBA and you’ve got yourself a deal. This is super cute and a bit angsty and 100% pining. Let me know what you think! It’s currently 2am and I’m crying over these dorks. Love you guys so much 

“Not Malfoy!” I distressed, standing. “Professor, please. I need to pass this class,”

“And you will do so, if Mr. Malfoy tutors you,” Snape hissed. “I don’t have to do this Miss Y/l/n, I could watch you fail and be quite fine with it.”

Clenching my fists, I took a deep breath and sat back down. Snape’s eyes narrowed at me.

“You and Mr. Malfoy will meet here every Friday afternoon.”

“Yes, Professor,” I sulked. “Thank you, Professor,”

“Now get out of my sight,” He snapped, and I stood, huffing out of his office and into the hall, nearly running over Malfoy.

“Watch it, mudblood,” He snapped, shoving me aside.

“Watch yourself,” I snarled, shoving him back.

He looked surprised at me, as if no one had dared to ever retaliate against him. Stupid self- righteous prat. That I needed. I made me loathe him more. I growled and stormed away, throwing my stuff onto the table in the Great Hall, sitting beside my friends.

“Well, that’s not a pretty face,” Ernie gave me a teasing look. “Snape that bad, huh?”

“He’s making Malfoy tutor me!” I lamented. “I think I’d rather fail,”

Shocked gasps rose around my small group of friends.

“Look here he comes,” Susan nodded to the door and sure enough, the blond prick was storming his way over here with murder in his eyes.

“You!” He sneered, stalking up to my table.

“What about me?” I gave him a cold look.

“You’re a filthy little mudblood who just ruined my Friday afternoons!” He shouted.

“And you’re a heinous misogynistic asshole who I have to deal with every Friday afternoon instead of going to Quidditch practice so forgive me if I’m not weeping at your feet begging for forgiveness,” I snapped, standing, my arms folded.

Onlookers of our conversation let out a low gasp of surprise as Malfoy stammered for the next thing to say. I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting.

“Cat got your tongue?” A smirk spread across my face. He drew his wand, pointing it at me. I didn’t flinch.

“Mr. Malfoy!” I heard the familiar voice of McGonagall. “Wand away! Unless you wish to serve detention,”

My smirk grew to a grin as I watched Malfoy stomp his foot and storm out of the room, shoving a few first years out of the way. A few clapped and cheered at the encounter before getting scolded by McGonagall.

I dreaded Friday. More than I dreaded anything. I’d rather never listen to music again if it meant I didn’t have to listen to Malfoy teach me about Potions. Okay, well, maybe the situation wasn’t that dire... but I was considering it.

“You’re early,”

I hadn’t even closed the door and he was already snapping at me.

“Hello Malfoy,” I gritted, turning to see him already standing over a cauldron, ingredients laid out around the table.

“Let’s just get this over with?” He nodded me over, his eyes still trained on the knife and leathery skin in his hands.

I shed my robe and rolled up my sleeves, going to hover beside him.

“Can you tell me what this is?” His voice lost some of the snap to it as he slid the crushed hide into the bubbling brew.

“If I could do you think I’d be here?” I huffed, grabbing my textbook and notes, flipping through the pages.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin,” Draco snatched the book from my hands.

“Give it back!” I shouted, reaching for the textbook.

“You won’t get better if you’re cheating,” He disappeared the book with a wave of his hand.

“That was my book! Malfoy, I swear to god!”

We were toe to toe, inches from each other. There was a calm, careful, infuriating smile on his face and anger on mine.

“Now, tell me, little mudblood,” He took a careful step back. “What potion is this?”

I narrowed my eyes at him and with a deep breath I looked over at the grey sludge that boiled in the pot. My eyes took inventory of the ingredients that were laid around the desk.

“Knotgrass?” I guessed, picking up a jar inspecting it.

Draco gave a seldom nod. We went on like that, until I had named all of the ingredients that were before us.

“I know this!” I groaned, rubbing my face. “I should know this!” 

“Well, why don’t you?” Malfoy smirked. “It’s quite simple,”

“If it was simple,” I gritted out. “I wouldn’t be here,”

My book was suddenly back in his hands.

“It’s easier to find a potion by looking at the index. You know the ingredients, find them and cross reference,” He handed it back to me.

“That’s... actually really smart,”

I took the book and flipped to the back. It took some time, but I eventually flipped to the page I felt was right: Polyjuice Potion.

“Well done,” He didn’t smile, but he wasn’t quite scowling. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet, little mudblood.”

“Watch it,” I growled. “I’m still not above punching you,”

“What would you like me to call you then? Little shrew? Spitfire? Gorgon?” His smirk was back.

“Oh, kiss a dementor, Malfoy,” Grabbing my things, I ditched him and the Polyjuice Potion, heading outside into the setting sun to clear my head with some fresh air.

______________________________

Draco sat back, leaning against the table, watching you storm out. Your adamant hatred for him was quite amusing. The fact that you needed him to pass Potions and your loathing of him, made him laugh to himself as he began to clean up with a quick flick of his wand.

“I am to glad to see that my office is still intact,” Snape mused, flowing into the room. “I can’t say I had high hopes for you two,”

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Draco admitted. “She’s... bearable.”

“Is that sentiment I hear Mr. Malfoy?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” Draco scoffed. “A challenge.”

“You’re absolutely daft!” Pansy dismayed later that night in the common room. “You really think you can tame that shrew?”

“Do you doubt me?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Besides, I wrangled you in, and I put up with Crabbe and Goyle, and you have not been to a family dinner of mine. Y/n? She’s a piece of cake.”

“Ten galleons says you’re wrong,” Pansy held out her hand.

“You’re on,” Draco grinned as he shook it.

The next Friday, you just as riled and furious as you had been last Friday, and it was almost enough to make Draco laugh. Every other girl seem to... how did you put it? Weep at his feet begging for forgiveness? That seemed about right. But you? Oh, he was right, you were a little spitfire. Especially when you were frustrated because you couldn’t figure out how to brew Sleeping Draught. He left that tutoring session smiling to himself, watching your livid form head down the hall.

The next day Draco wandered down to the Quidditch Pitch, surprised to see you out there alone, running drills. You had mentioned giving up practice to let him tutor you. Thinking back to his bet with Pansy, he shed his robe and grabbed his broom from the closet, changing quickly, and headed out into the air after you.

“Bloody hell!” You screamed, nearly falling off your broom. “What the fuck is wrong with you Malfoy!?” You hovered feet from him, covered in sweat and dirt.

“Well, at the moment, the chance of losing a bet,” He grinned.

“Shouldn’t have taken it then, asshole,” You rolled your eyes, balancing on your broom as you stretched out your arms. “But I meant why are you here? Are you following me now?”

“Not particularly, I leave my stalking abilities for Potter. Nothing to waste on a mudblood.” Oh, he loved watching the fire grow in your eyes as he called you that.

“Piss off, Malfoy.” You snapped, flying away from him, taking a lap around the pitch.

He followed. You sped up. So did he. When you pulled straight up, it was all too easy to follow. He could hear your aggravated growl as he chased you around the pitch. You stopped short and he nearly ran into you, having to swerve out of the way. Your face was a mask of calm and disgust as you shook your head and landed, heading for the locker rooms.

“How’s the shrew?” Pansy asked later that week. “Still think you can tame her?” 

“Patience Pans,” Draco chuckled. “These things take time,”

It wasn’t hard to figure out your schedule that week. It was even easier to make sure that he was there just long enough for you to notice him and then watch your mood sour as you stalked out of whatever room the two of you shared.

“Hey there, Spitfire,” Draco grinned leaning against your table at the library.

“What?” You snapped, not looking up at him. “Oh, I’m sorry I forgot, in this society, being male and an asshole makes you worthy of my time.” You shot him a deathly glare. “Bugger off, Malfoy,”

“You hate me, don’t you?” He smirked. “I get under that muggle skin of yours,”

“I really don’t think you warrant that strong an emotion,” I leaned back in my chair.

“Maybe another strong emotion then? Because they say if a girl constantly rips of a guy it means she likes him.”

“Am I that transparent?” Your face fell flat with you tone. “I want you. I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.” Rolling your eyes, you went back to your book. “Go find some other girl to fuck, Malfoy,”

“Ooh, see but that, there. Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?” He grinned and sat beside you, taking your book.

“Malfoy!” You hollered, only to be scolded by Pince. “Give me my book.”

“Now where have I heard that before.” Draco flipped through the pages of your book. “Ugh, a muggle book, I should have known,”

You snatched it from his hands and cradled it to your chest.

“You wouldn’t know a good book if I hit you in the face with it,” You snarled, grabbing your bag and storming off.

The few students who were watching the encounter quickly turned back to their work as Draco glanced around the shelves of books, noticing the missing space your book left in the shelf and the plethora of similar books.

“Shakespeare?” Draco mused, drawing a book into his hands. 

________________________________

“He’s obsessed! He won’t leave me alone!” I cried in frustration. “I wish he’d go back to stalking Potter because I’m sick of it!”

“Have you ever considered that maybe he likes you?” Hannah asked.

“Likes me?” I snorted. “Ah, yes. Because calling me a mudblood, or a shrew is just a tell of flirting,”

“He called you a mudblood?” Ernie demanded.

“Calm down, I can handle myself.” Rolling my eyes, I sulked, standing. “I’m going to the pitch, anyone wanna join?”

There was a resounding chorus of ‘no’s. Which was probably a good thing. I needed some time alone to think and blow off steam. After a few hours of running drills I headed back to the locker rooms. Wiping my face with a towel, I jumped nearly a foot when I saw that I wasn’t alone.

“For the love of god, Draco!” I shouted. “What are you doing?”

“Well, hello to you too,” He smirked. “And I do believe I have quidditch practice,”

I pursed my lips and slammed my locker shut. His irritating casual conversation still had the ability to make my blood boil.

“I hope you fall to your death,” I snapped, heading towards the girl’s showers.

“Well, there’s a way to get a bloke’s attention,” He smirked, leaning effortlessly against his locker.

“My mission in life,” I smiled cheerfully. “And I’ve obviously struck your fancy, so the world makes sense again,” I sighed wistfully and deadpanned.

“See you Friday,” He smiled politely.

I let out a sound of disgust and shoved down the urge to go back in there and punch him in his perfect face. The days until Friday seemed to fly by, mocking me with their abruptness.

Taking a deep breath, I walked into Snape’s office, where Draco was waiting for me, the same lazy smile on his face. I didn’t say a word as I shed my coat and rolled up my sleeves, taking out my book and notes.

“What in the bloody hell is that?” Draco stammered, almost knocking over a vial of Wormwood—I think.

“What?” I looked around then behind me. “What are you playing at?” 

“Around your neck!” He gestured, annoyed.

“Headphones?” I chuckled, easily sliding them off. “You know... music? Your lot do have that sort of thing, don’t they?”

“I don’t see what... headphones—” As if the word was foreign to his tongue, “—have to do with music,” Draco scoffed.

“You can listen to music anywhere?” I slid them off from around my neck and pulled up my portable CD player from my bag. “Have you really never seen a CD player or headphones?” I was baffled. “I don’t know what I’d do without music,”

“CD?” Draco frowned at the player in my hands.

“Yeah, Mom just send me ABBA’s Gold album and I’m a bit obsessed,” A slight pink touched my cheeks. “I’ve been wanting it so long,”

“ABBA?”

I laughed and shook my head, shoving both my headphones and CD player into my bag. “Maybe I’ll show you one day,”

It took less time than expected for me to figure out that he had a cauldron of Veritaserum in front of me. And maybe I genuinely smiled at Draco and fought the urge to hug him because, Potions really was making sense to me now. I would never understand how he managed it, but he could teach it in a way that I understood.

“Hey Draco?” I paused at the door on my way out. He looked up from cleaning, his careful blue eyes meeting mine. “Thanks,”

I hated that I wasn’t annoyed at him when he found me in the library again.

“So, is this for Muggle Studies then?” Draco nodded to my book, sitting the incorrect way in the chair next to mine, resting his arms against the back, almost nonchalant.

“No,” I rolled my eyes, slipping off my headphones, pausing the CD. “On contrary to popular belief, we muggles aren’t uncivilized. I do enjoy things like reading and art and music,” The annoyance in my voice was false.

“I’m aware,” Draco grinned that lazy smile again.

“Oh, so you think you know me then? Have enough from stalking me these past weeks?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Not like we’ve spent the last few Fridays together...” He drawled. “And I think I’m getting there.”

“The only thing you know about me is that I’m muggle and suck at potions,” I muttered, turning back to my book.

“You’re interesting,” Draco shrugged, causing me to backtrack and frown.

“Is that all I am to you? Something to ogle at? Maybe get a laugh in here and there with your pureblood buddies?” My voice went back to being venomous. “Just because you're pureblood, doesn't mean you can treat people like they don't matter!” I grabbed my belongings and stormed out of the library, fighting tears.

________________________________

Draco hated that you were right. And he hated that he almost made you cry as well. He hated that you could see right through him. And he hated that he felt any of this at all.

“The bet’s off,” Draco hissed to Pansy.

“You know what that means...” She grinned mischievously. “That means you have to do my homework for a week, and you pay up.”

Draco forked over the coins, not missing them in the slightest.

“She too much for you then? Not able to tame our little mudblood shrew?” A wicked grin curled on her face.

“Don’t call her that,” Draco snapped. “You don’t know a thing about her,”

“She’s a mudblood, Draco,” Pansy sat up, looking concerned. “Don’t tell me you actually have feelings for her?”

Draco didn’t have an answer for that.

He didn’t have an answer for any of this. As he laid in bed that night, staring up at the satin green that draped over his bed, all he could think about was the hurt on your face and in your words. It was different from your remarks before, those he could brush off easily. But not the tears in your eyes or the betrayal in your voice. Pansy was right, he shouldn’t care at all. You were beneath him. A mudblood, muggle born, shrew.

But he fucked up.

Because now you were so much more precious than that and he let you do it to him. He gave you the place in his heart where you resided.

That Friday he almost didn’t expect you to show. When you did, after the initial shock, there was an apology rushing to his lips, but held back by his pride. You barely looked at him that day. Your movements were muted, gentle. You murmured soft answers.

“Why are you doing this?” It was the first thing you said to him that wasn’t some ingredient. 

“Tutoring you?” He raised an eyebrow.

You shook your head and took a deep breath. “All of it—what's in it for you?” Your eyes met his and he felt like you were reading him like one of your books. “What’s your game, Malfoy?” It hurt more than he thought as you switched back to the use of his surname.

“So, I have to have a motive to be with you?” He snapped back defensive.

“You tell me.” The tone of your words had him weak at the knees, gripping at the table for support.

“Can’t I just enjoy your company?” Draco snapped, slamming the book closed. “We’re done for the day,” He shook his head, looking down at the table beneath his hands.

You left without another word, but a glance back to him that had him reeling. He wanted to call out after you, but the words were trapped by fear and uncertainty.

Draco still watched you in the halls and in class whenever he could steal a glance. You seemed to always have your headphones in and your head down, nose in a book. Snape informed him about mid-week that your grades were adequate and that the tutoring would end promptly. He should have been happy about that. And a month ago he would have been more than glad to be rid of you... but he made a huge mistake.

He fell for you instead.

And you hated him. For everything he was and is. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry that you closed yourself off from him. He didn’t blame you. Things were as it should be, and the world could spin around and not threaten to implode.

It was absolutely ludicrous. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t be doing this.

Every night, he slipped on headphones, and fell asleep to ABBA singing about love and loss behind the safety of his closed bed curtains. Sometimes he could almost hear your gentle voice whisper the lyrics, broken and defeated. Maybe he whispered a few back to the memory of you. Maybe a tear or two slipped out.

Maybe he sent you a note in class. Maybe it said that he was sorry and understood why you hated him. Maybe he deserved to watch you crumple it up and shove it into your bag and not give him a second glance.

Maybe enough was enough.

Determined, one crisp spring morning, Draco rose. After tucking away his guilty pleasure, he didn’t bother with house colors as he pulled a jumper over his dark wash jeans, scouring the castle grounds for you. It shouldn’t have been that hard, he had your scheduled memorized for Merlin’s sake, but still you evaded him.

To be fair, you didn’t evade him at all, he just wasn’t paying attention to your curled-up form in the Quidditch stands.

He called your name and gritted his teeth when you didn’t look up. He tried again. 

“Go away,” You pulled your arms tighter around yourself.

He didn’t. Instead he sat down beside you, not saying a word. You two sat in silence that about killed him when you spoke up again.

“Did you win... your little bet?” Your voice was broken. “Did you tame the shrew?” 

“You knew?” Draco gaped.

A soft shrug fell from your shoulder. “I know what people say about me...” A sigh escaped your lips. “And Pansy’s always one to hold anything she can over me. She’s my cousin, you know... my mom was a squib...”

A frown fell on Draco’s face at the new information. How had he not known that? Pansy was always near him and well, he did stalk you for about a month. Maybe you had been right, and you were nothing more than a spectacle to him until that last week...

Your careful eyes were trained on the empty pitch before him. No emotion was evident on your face... maybe an air of melancholy.

“I... I’m sorry,” Draco glanced down. “You were right about me... about everything.” 

“I really don’t want to talk about...” You sighed. “Things we’ve gone through...”

A smile tugged at Draco’s lips. He knew those words. And it was so like you to quote them at him. He wondered how many other times you had gotten away with quoting song lyrics at him.

______________________________

I could feel Draco’s eyes study my face and the small smile that rested on his. I glanced over at him an eyebrow raised in question.

“You can’t just quote song lyrics at me,” He toyed, the familiar irritating smirk on his lips.

“I can do whatever I please,” I snapped, my cheeks flushing that I had been caught. Then it dawned on me. “Wait—”

A laugh escaped his lips. A wonderful sound that I had never heard before. One that I wanted to hear again.

“I was curious...” He shrugged, nonchalant seeming.

“You... listened to ABBA? A muggle CD? And you... know the words?” I gawked at him. “Who the hell are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?” I couldn’t help the smile on my lips.

“I’ve been asking myself that for about a week now,” He grinned, then looked down, his smile dropping.

“Draco?” I asked softly, reaching out for his hand. His blue eyes met mine, hesitant. “It’s... you don’t have to... I know you can’t...” Fumbling over my words, I couldn’t find the ones that seemed to fit right.

He reached out, the hand I had seen for weeks on end delicately handle ingredients and potions, just as precisely reached out and tilted my chin up.

“Tell me,” He whispered. “Have I messed up so badly that you can’t forgive me? That you won’t take a chance on a... how did you put it? Heinous misogynistic asshole?” There was a teasing smile on his lips that somehow moved to be inches from mine.

“Who’s quoting song lyrics now?” I mused softly, “And what kind of idiotic question is that?” 

“That’s all I needed to hear,”

His mouth was on mine then, and I couldn't fight him. Not because he was possibly stronger than me—but not by much—but because my will crumbled into dust the second our lips met. So, I kissed him back. His hands memorized my face, the same way mine were tracing his, and, in the brief seconds when his lips were free, he whispered my name.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” He breathed out. “I’ll do better,”

"Don't promise me anything," I whispered softly, my hands falling to his shoulders. “Next week you might change your mind... or Pansy might—”

His lips were on mine again, silencing my words and doubts.

“Will you please try to hear what I'm telling you? Will you let me attempt to explain what you mean to me?” His stark eyes pierced mine as he cradled my face. “I am so sorry. I know I’m an asshole, and I know I’ve fucked up—” I started to protest but his thumb brushed over my lips, keeping them closed “—I have. And for a while I thought it was because I fell for you, but I see now is that it was because I didn’t fall for you sooner,”

“Sap,” I mumbled against his thumb, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

His hands fell and I drew him into a hug. He held me close and for a moment, I just let him hold me. No fears, no doubts, no malicious thoughts, no blood status, no magic. Just two teens and something that might be love.

.................................

“Pansy is actually going to kill me,” I whispered, hesitating outside the Great Hall doors.

“Not while I have a say in the matter,” Draco pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head. “And besides... what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

I walked into the Great Hall, hand in hand with Draco. There was the clatter of dropped dishes and silverware and a collective gasp that fell into a hushed silence. Hundreds of eyes were on us.

“Well, that could have gone worse...” Draco muttered under his breath and I snorted a laugh, shaking my head, letting him pull me to a nearby table.

Nervous chattered and hushed whispers filled the hall. I guess they had good reason though. Draco and I had both tamed the other shrew.

.

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[wistfulrat]

this week’s fics! feat. bakeries, bookshops, bisexual awakenings of the angsty and fluffy sort, wolfstar goddads being tender as hell, desi harry reconnecting with his culture, domestic drarry, a lap dance set to akon’s smack that, and more!

But That’s History by @ebbet - 54k - T Harry Potter starts his first year as Muggle Studies Professor only to find that Draco Malfoy has been hired to teach History of Magic.

listen to me. this is one of the funniest drarry fics i've ever read. i was cackling in my bed at 2am because harry’s internal monologues throughout this fic are unhinged. insanely quotable. “what was he, a lothario” and “you were crushing me with your muscular thighs!” are lines that live rent free in my empty head. harry has never played anything cool a day in his life. there’s a faculty meeting where the teachers are planning the yule ball and debating the merits of a DJ when harry decides he must defend his muggle-music-loving honor by dancing seductively to akon’s smack that while a blushing draco loses his mind. i fucking screamed. and the best part is that in between the comedic scenes threading the overall story, you have extremely tender moments of like, padma patil helping harry become a more rooted desi by sharing their cultural traditions, harry proudly donning his sherwani. draco wrestling with his past, going to harry’s lgbtq+ club for students, being sheepish with ron and hermione. ugh, comedic writers with emotional depth are clever and talented as hell!!

Realities, Unfurling by @ebbet - 45k - M Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban into a changed world.

incredible collage-fic told from multiple povs. 8yrs post-war and everything’s changed. the current state of the magical world unfolds via slice-of-life snapshots from a truly stunning cast. non-binary harry whom is running a non-prof org dedicated to building tolerance and establishing equality for marginalized identities. post-prison-release draco whose life will be changed by the internet. neville’s tender relationship with blaise. andromeda’s fiercely protective mothering. remus and sirius being alive and very hot and just, the tender goddads harry deserved. cho chang being brilliant. baker pansy’s softened edges. found families abound. harry being flustered by their crush on draco and making personalized playlists on an iPod nano.

that all might sound narratively cluttered but the author more than pulls this off. glorious, start to finish.

Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (an @hd-erised​ fic) - 83k - E This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

cinematic. a love letter to oregon’s expansive landscapes and lively cities. it’s harry finding home in unexpected places and people. in the vast silence of rolling fields, endless coasts, and starry night skies big enough to feel like you’re adrift in space. and it’s also the lingering, intimate quiet of early mornings in a bakery, sitting on a park bench overlooking the city as you eat ice cream next to your crush. it’s harry watching ginny and luna dance and work around each other like bees. it’s the slow unfolding of harry and draco’s relationship as they fill each other’s quiet. finishing this fic is like waking from a good dream. transporting, immersive, lovely. 

Harry Potter and the Bisexual Awakening by @writcraft - 20k - E Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

first of all, i feel very seen by draco being a gay-who-can’t-drive. it’s called representation. but mostly i love the ease of harry and draco’s banter, a flustered harry discovering his sexuality, and the way this fic addresses biphobia. also very emo over this exchange: “I think I might be scared of you, but probably not for the reasons you think.” “Yes.” Draco stares at Harry. “I think I might be scared of you too.”

Forged through flowing water by @tedahfromtayla (an @hd-erised​ fic) - 40k - E When Hermione sets up a diplomatic mission to begin repairing the damage British colonisation did to Indian magical communities Harry isn’t going to pass on the opportunity to visit and help his family’s home country. Maybe he should have asked a few more questions about the personnel she had recruited for it before signing on because Malfoy surely has an ulterior motive to be there.

so much to love about this fic. the beautiful settings, from kolkata to mumbai, to the holi festival and colorful lively streets, to remote cave settlements and old intricate temples. it’s harry in the homeland, reconnecting to his family’s heritage and confronting the weight of imperialism in his history. it’s nipping the white savior complex in the bud. this part: That is what England left behind. That is what it still stands for, despite whatever mask of respectability and honour it presents. . .You don't get to step aside and let someone else deal with the mess. You have to listen and learn and then act, Malfoy, you need to learn how to fix your own mess. This is why we're here. my indigenous ass cheered. HP certainly sells the british fantasy but HP fanfic?? fuck jkr, fuck the crown. i love that this fic doesn’t romanticize england’s history. i love that we get to see the vast resilience and beauty of post-colonial india.

Purity Control by yrfrndfrnkly - 28k - T In which Harry tries to ignore his trauma with fantasy Quidditch but Malfoy's Thereness™ is distracting and all his classmates want to talk about are unicorns, virginity, and Muggle music.

tender 8th year fics where they go from bristly as fuck to understanding and soft 100% guaranteed to make me emo as hell. all the teens have traumas and no one wants to talk about it but eventually Things are Talked About. it’s good of the adults to finally notice. everyone just wants someone to hold their hand. and this part: “You’re the only person around here who’s a bigger mess than I am.” “I thought maybe we could be a mess together,” pls don’t look at me as i weep over their gentle empathy.

Advent, a comic by dustmouth - WIP - T It's Harry and Draco's first Christmas together and Draco is determined to live his full yuletide fantasy, come hell or high water.

dustmouth, patron saint of whimsical drarry. whose illustrations singlehandedly reinvented wizarding fashion. whose cheeky and tender comics are like a soothing balm to the utter depravity of this carnal world. harry and draco being domestic, draco’s xmas spirit brand being “traditional unhinged��!! extremely my shit. we’ll absolutely be reading this all december.

Little Spaces by @dracoladon and @lazywonderlvnd​ - WIP - E Draco's back from France and working on the spell damage ward at St Mungo's with Hermione, who invites him over for dinner. Without telling Harry. This is a roleplay, which means Harry is written by one author (lazywonderland) and Draco by another (dracoladon).

the switch in distinct character voices works so well for this fic!! tonally i feel like i'm watching an episode of the office. i personally love harry and draco being Pissed Off at how much they want to bone each other. the battle of the tapenade was the most riveting dinner scene i've read in a minute. clever, hilarious, emotionally tense. can’t wait until that inevitable moment post hate-sex when they’re gonna be like “oh noooo it’s a Heart Boner as well!! >:((” hell ya we’re subscribing for chapter updates.

Dragons Don’t Know Paradise by @teacup-tai​ - WIP - E In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon.

non-magical bookshop AU. remus and sirius’ relationship is a marvel. the ease of their affection with harry makes me so emo. draco’s friends being insistently present even as he tries to isolate himself. this is a story about acceptance, found families, and falling in love at a distance. the intimacy, the longing, the tenderness. what a fic!! i keep coming back to this part:...he looks at ease, inside his body, a body he needed to fight for. He’d made peace with his struggles and his scars. And Draco realises he wants that. He wants to be at ease inside his body, the body that now carries a virus. He wants to be at peace with his own existence. you hurt for draco so deeply but you get moments like these where he affords himself a kindness that feels foreign and it’s just!! the boys navigating grief and learning to be vulnerable. so good.