#jkr wip

[nobody-writes-here]

Haha yeah I'll bite. I love talking about my writing projects (hence the tumblr) so thanks for the opportunity. It's actually a really thorough historiographic project surrounding the harry potter fandom and online fandom cultures in general and the way in which the harry potter fandom in particular grew and why as well as the ways in which it fostered queer and neurodiverse communities. From a historical and sociological perspective it's really interesting, and it intersects with capitalism, queer studies, fan studies, and neo-liberalism in a lot of ways. It his, however, what I call my jkr wip, because one of the biggest and most interesting phenomena that has taken place in this fandom has been the degree to which miss rowling has successfully burned her trust with so much of the community that used to be para-socially obsessed with her.

It's an opportunity to explore both the modern TERF movement and modern queer culture especially in online spaces. It's not weird and obsessive, though I'm certainly a bit of a weird guy; it's a project of academic curiosity and analysis. What really lives in my head rent free is the lab work I'm doing right now with historical textile practices, but that's a post for another day<3

I did a writing workshop with a selection from my wip about jkr and it turns out there's a significant portion of the non-chronically-online fanbase that doesn't know she's a terf at all. I don't really know what to do with this information. I thought it was common knowledge at this point.

[blueeyedb00ger]

Every time JK Rowling acts like a wanker on twitter I add one more trans character to my wip

[pomegranatepetrichord]

i am working on things i promise i just work 70 hours a week and jm moving countries in 22 days

[labyrinthprops]

It’s taken me a long time to make peace with my fondness of the Harry Potter series, so for the first time in literal years have some fanart of Harry and his parents. As well as a little sneak peek at a marauders sketch.

[summerscribbles]

trans reg agenda

((i’m gonna fix it later pls don’t look at the hands i swear i can draw in so lazy rn😭😭))

[supernova-stardust]

back in my marauders brain rot, here’s a regulus black wip

[xzerosparrowx]

wip of my drarry ballet au fic. Inspired by The Red Shoes and Black Swan. This first scene is pretty much the opening scene in The Red Shoes.

P.S. Eat dirt, Joanne.

The excitable chatter of the barely contained line of people fill the street, the sidewalk slick with rain reflecting the warm yellow glow of London. Standing at the foot of a door are two men, shouting out for calm to the rabble of young folks eagerly awaiting for the door to open. Harry, Ron, and Hermione tuck their umbrellas underneath their arms as the line surges forward briefly, a few angry shouts of line cutting behind them that seem to settle as quickly as it had begun.

“See, told you it was a good idea to come two hours early,” Hermione boasts, smiling at Ron and Harry, who are taking the brunt of the pushing line behind them.

“We are forever in your debt, oh wise one,” Ron bows, tipping dangerously forward as someone knocks into him, “watch it!”

There is no build up or warning to the doors opening, but the line still surges forward as if a gun had gone off at the races. The doormen quickly step out of the way as the line scrambles inside and up the stairs, people pushing and jockeying for a better position. Ron holds Hermione’s hand as Harry sprints up ahead, bursting through the doors, stepping over chairs to get to the balcony of the dress circle and laying himself out to save two extra seats.

“Move it!” A tall brunette orders, slapping at Harry’s scuffed dress shoes just as Ron and Hermione arrive, filling the seats.

“Sorry, early bird and all,” Harry smirks, earning a blustering scowl from the brunette and their partner.

“Mum packed us food,” Ron smiles, producing three baking paper lined sandwiches from his large brown coat, “Ham and cheese for ‘Mione and a bacon butty for Harry.”

“God save Molly Weasley,” Harry laughs, biting into the perfectly cooked bacon.

“Programmes?” An usher calls out.

“Two here thanks!” The brunette answers, grabbing two programmes from the usher's hand.

“One here,” Harry stands, taking one of the programmes from the brunette “thank you!” Which earns another round of scowling and muttered swears from the couple.

“Professor Lockhart's music better be good, we’ve spent nearly half of our rent for these tickets,” Ron grumbles as they look over the programme, taking a swig from a bottle that also comes out of his coat.

“Delacour would be able to dance to anything, even if the music is awful,” the brunette says happily.

“Dela-who?”

“Come now,” the brunette laughs, “you cannot have been standing in that line for two hours waiting to see her dance-”

“Not to see anybody. To hear.” Harry interrupts, finishing off his sandwich in two big bites.

“Look,” he continues, brandishing the opened programme in front of the couple, “it says here, composer Gilderoy Lockhart.”

“Have you heard of him?” Hermione asks, a little bite in her politeness that makes Ron smile adoringly at her.

“Never.”

“You will,” Ron says through his now finished sandwich, taking off his coat and hanging it over the balcony.

“He’s our Professor at the Royal Academy of Music,” Hermione informs happily, grabbing the bottle from Ron and taking a long pull.

“So Del-whatever better be good,” Ron side-eyes.

The brunette, now red in the face, opens their mouth to say something just as the orchestra begins to fine tune their instruments.

“Oh! There he is!” Hermione gasps, pointing out towards one of the private boxes closest to the stage.

“Oi! Lockhart!” Harry and Ron bellow together laughing as Lockhart, a handsome fellow with golden curls and a flamboyantly gray and pink suit, smiles up at them and gives them a little wave.

“He must be blind if that's the suit he's wearing,” the brunette laughs before being promptly shushed by the seats behind them as a settled silence moves through the theatre.

The string section fades in, a soft dolce accompanied by a pianissimo, with light touches of pizzicato from the violins. Harry closes his eyes to the melody and theme of the piece, letting it wash over him. It feels like a memory, the music gentle and quietly melancholic, like something he had heard once in a dream. No. No he had heard this before, had hummed the melody in the brittle hours of the morning in his first year at the Academy, had poured over the piano and ink until he dreamt in musical notations.

“Harry, isn't that your string piece from first year?” Ron whispers and Harry can only nod in reply.

“What? It must be a coincidence, right? Lockhart wouldn't lift it, surely,” Hermionie tries to reason, sounding less than convinced even as she says it.

Harry shrugs noncommittally, even when the cold bite of betrayal sinks its teeth into his stomach, and tries to focus on the ballet instead. It has to be a coincidence. Has to be.

The dancers float across the stage on pointe, the muscle in their legs straining while their faces maintain a soft serenity, even under the hot stage lights. Harry had not danced since he was thirteen, but he remembers the hours of practice to maintain a pirouette, the sweat and unhinged strive for perfectionism. He does not envy them. Going into music was the best thing he ever did.

A fanfare of trumpets and the sudden commotion of a battaglia, discordant and heavy, rips Harry from the dancers and back to the music.

“That's yours too, isn't it Harry?” Hermione whispers, but from the furrow on her brow she already knows the answer.

Lockhart stole his music, bits, and pieces of his soul taken apart and repurposed. His eyes naturally fall over to Lockhart, who is just sitting there, enjoying the ballet, enjoying Harry’s music. He wants to scream, to tell everyone that Gilderoy Lockhart is a talentless hack, but Ron has a firm, reassuring grip on his shoulder. Instead, he gets up and pushes past the brunette and their partner without a second to apologize, while Ron and Hermione quickly follow behind him, apologizing profusely as people scowl and complain behind them.

-

“Harry, you can’t just break into Lockhart’s office, you’ll get expelled before you even have a chance to explain why,” Hermione reasons, taking a large gulp of her beer, “besides, we don’t know for sure if he had intended to steal your music or if he just used it for inspiration.”

“Inspiration? Come on, I bet that lousy moron has stolen heaps of students works,” Ron bristles, downing the rest of his beer in one large gulp, “I bet there are heaps of people with the same story as yours that just never brought it forward because Lockhart is famous and ‘respected’.”

In the center of Hog’s Head, a student pub at the corner of Baker and Bickenhall Street, Harry nurses his beer and seethes, Hermione and Ron both encouraging and discouraging his more reckless tendencies in equal measure.

“Ok, so I won’t break into his office,” Harry concedes, plucking a couple of hot chips from the shared bowl in the middle of the table, “but he has stolen my work, note for note. Ron is right, there has to be other students that he’s done this to as well.”

“Maybe you could write a strongly worded letter to Lockhart-”

“A letter?” Ron laughs, “To Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, you stole my music. Fuck you! Sincerely, Harry James Potter.”

“Ok, well how about the director?” Hermione asks, finishing off her beer.

“What director?”

“Of the ballet. I'm sure he would appreciate knowing that the music he was using was stolen,” Hermione smiles, before getting up and going to the bar.

“I'm going to marry her one day, Harry.”

[padfoot-and-leo-ao3]

Check out my fic on Ao3! There's just one chapter right now, but I'm working on it! I'll probably post every week or so. Still working on my bigger projects as well!

[this-is-krikkit]

happy very belated birthday Hange Zoë!

1) i must confess to yall that "kuso megane" always sounded like a Harry Potter spell to me

2) and then i saw this amazing art:

(source, repost authorized by op)

3) and since as always, everything is levihan to me......... i turned it into a fic

[giggles-and-freckles]

i don't really ever promote my fics from ao3 over here anymore because it somehow feels the same as when i bring essays home to grade on the weekend and my husband is like ugh whyyyy. but some of you are here because of my wee fandom days in marauders hell (before i deleted everything i wrote because i was being literally hunted by someone in the fandom hahahah i wish i was kidding). and i'd like to personally tell you lovely people that i've spiralled back down into the deep pit and have posted a few new things.

it's scary to post something "different"...but the SW prequels and HP marauders just feel like cuts from the same cloth to me. sad dead parents and misunderstandings and sacrifices and leftover guardians. but also — brilliant friendships, sharp wit, epic mischief, awkward flirting. maybe it's your cuppa tea, maybe not.

but i owe it to my little marauders cheerleaders, if you're still here. <3

[longlivedelusion]

🌈WIP Wednesday💅

Thanks for the tag @heytheredelulu 🥰 been slacking a bit but here's a WIP from a lonnngg fic I've been planning/working on. Which is a bit different than what I normally post *bucky, cough, bucky*

It's a Marauders era fic, post grad, with my own OC insert. Pretty excited about it, but let's see if I get it posted ever 😅

Trigger warning though: looooot of negative self-talk. Depression. Hint of s*icidal thoughts. Mentions of death. Yeah I picked a heavy one to drop, sorry, it's all I have rn 😅

~

Sirius didn't talk after that, after the news. As much as I tried to get him to speak, say anything, all I could hear were the occasional shift of his chains to know he was alive. I eventually gave up trying.

I sat down on the ground, the chains shifting beneath me as I moved to get comfortable. I hunched over my slowly weakening legs. Even though the Dementors kept mostly away from us, or me technically, the food we got still didn't help sustain us. We were meant to be living skeletons, just alive enough to survive and know that we would never leave. Not that we could anyway.

I looked down at my hands. These weak, useless hands. I didn't need the Dementors to feed on me to realize how badly the universe had messed up. To know they chose the wrong person to be here, to live. Just a piss poor witch incapable of dealing with a couple wizards, who couldn't even do shit to help save her friends. I took in a stuttered breath, my lungs struggling to fill, before releasing a slow breath out.

It should have been me. Not James. Not Lily. Not... Reggie. They were the heroes. They were the capable ones. Not me.

I laid down onto the damp, cold floor, eyes fixated on the stone wall in front of me. Drip. Another leak. Drip.

I don't know how long I sat there for, eyes staring forward at the water coming down from the wall. I stopped hearing the rush of the waves outside, the steady pour of rain, the occasional wails. I stopped hearing everything all together. Blink.

Two stones up and three over. It had a chip in the corner. Was that me? Or someone before me.

Blink.

My eyes felt a bit tired. Maybe I could just close them a while.

Blink.

Nothing else really mattered, anyways.

Mumbled voices. Must be the screams.

It didn't stop. They sound louder, closer.

Doesn't matter though. Probably just the Dementors feeding.

But it didn't stop. It got louder. Franctic. Familiar. Who was that? I knew that voice.

"Please, please don't leave. You can't go too, you can't-" The voice came now, clearly. It was Sirius. I had never heard him so desperate before, so afraid. "I'm sorry I shut down, please be alive, please-"

"I'm here," I said, a rasp from unuse. How long had it been since I'd last spoken? "I'm here."

"Fuck, I thought- I hadn't heard you move in a while and when I called your name you didn't answer. You- shit, I thought you were dead!" I heard him choke back what could be... A sob?

"Why are you crying?" I asked, the words falling from my mouth drily. Why are you crying over me? I wanted to say.

"Are you fucking kidding!" He shouted, or what sounded like a shout in these near silent halls. "You're the only person I have left. You- you're all I have left." He stopped, the last words dying on his lips.

James. Lilly. Peter. Remus. Re-

All of his friends, dead or betrayed. 

No family. No home.

Another choked sob left his throat, "Addie-"

"I'm sorry. I'm here. I was just a bit tired is all." I said, a bit louder this time though the conviction in my voice was passable at best. "Talk to me."

I was new. I wasn't his childhood friend, it was different. I couldn't replace the gaping hole left in his heart of the people he'd lost, the family that no longer was, and those he loved who thought he and I were murderers. Killers. But I was all he had left, and he needed me.

I suppose I would have to do.

~

No pressure tags to some favs (and to anyone else who wants to share a WIP!!): @kayhi808 @navybrat817 @pretty-little-mind33 @drabbles-mc

[cursedwithwords]

What's a niche subplot in the Potter series that you'll talk about for hours if given the chance?

Mine is Helena Ravenclaw's fate.

And that's why I wrote her into TBOTS, so I can talk about her more.

Anyway for this ted-talk I'll be discussing how majorly fucked up it is that the Bloody Baron is allowed to wander the halls of Hogwarts covered in Helena's blood because he murdered her for rejecting him and she just has to fucking deal with it.

[oshimasan]

WIP

I finally bought a proper tablet!

I'm currently in my yearly drarry phase, where I binge All the fics, so here's some drarry I'm working on to commemorate. I'm learning how to draw digitally again so it's gonna be a fun experiment.

[mydarlingdearestdead]

Rosekiller Wip

"You know what we are? We're collection of unspoken euphoria, fractured promises, and esoteric ideals. In other words, we're a mess." Barty instinctively takes a step back, so his back presses against the cool stone of the wall. Evan's words sting more than he'd ever like to admit.

"No." Barty trys to make it sound firm, but his voice cracks at the end, earning a rather pathetic quality in addition to his weak statement. "What happened to Finding A Way Out?" Evan shakes his head. It's simple; there is no way out.

"Why can't we just be happy?" He asks, and he knows how much desperation is packed into those six words. Evan must, too, as a film forms over his hazel eyes.

[saintsofthestarfield]

Wolfstar snippet from a WIP I abandoned:

Sirius fell back onto the bed, stomach full and body relaxed. He breathed in deep, listening to the shuffling of fabric coming from the closet and feeling the strange sense of belonging rattle around his ribs. It was empty, this cave he calls a chest. Dark and cold, filled rarely with the likes of satisfaction or tranquility. The arches forming a cage made of dust. Molded into bars of bone, forged by scarred hands; he was made of the moon. Ironic for someone named after a star, right? The thought made him giggle.

“What’s so funny?” James called from where he now stood at the bathroom sink, speaking through a mouth full of toothpaste suds.

“Just longing for the return of my moonage daydream…” Sirius sighed wistfully.

[bookishbrigitta]

It’s a busy time in my life, so you know what that means...great new ideas and an urge to actually write! 

Anyway, I ended up thinking of how Professor Lupin was one of the only examples I had of a teacher or professor with a disability. Honestly, still is. I got to wondering what he interactions would be like with disabled students...and half an hour later I’ve got him running a support group and advocating for student accommodations. 

So y’all, help me generate some ideas. What are some accessibility pitfalls at Hogwarts?

So far, I have:

-STAIRS. Everything is fucking stairs

-The stairs MOVE. Extra awful for anyone with memory and/or vision issues.

-Dietary issues. (Food options, cross contamination, etc)

-The fact that electronic devices don’t work. Like...does that include pacemakers? Insulin pumps? Hearing aids?

-Wands and grip/arm issues. What happens if you can’t hold a wand? Do they make OXO versions? What about arm movements?

Add your own!