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sofiadragon · 6 months ago

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I've been digging in my WIPs again

Look, I stepped away from the Harry Potter fandom online for a long time before coming back after the MCU phase 4 sent me back to re-read my old books but I kept writing for myself. I've got backlogged fic that, because I never intended to publish it, is all kinds of messy unedited snips of things that I had to pour out of my brain in order to make room for other stuff.

I have a bit of a time travel story. Mix of the Master of Death do-overs and an amnesia plot with a LOT of 'authoritarian governments are evil, actually' hovering over the whole thing. Harry Potter gets blasted back in time and is picked up by the Department of Mysteries.

This is the beginning:

“Someone wanted you gone quite badly,” a rough male voice said. He blinked himself awake from a light doze at the sound, taking stock of where he was and how he felt as quickly as he could with a potential threat so close. He was sore all over, and his head had a feeling like being stuffed with cotton that sometimes happened when he slept in too late. Everything was blurry, but he had the impression both that this was wrong and that it made sense. The man sitting at his bedside wore a hooded cloak, but was otherwise an unremarkable man of indeterminate age with brown enough hair and a rather boring and forgettable face. The room was small and through the blur of poor vision it was all rather mauve and brown, but clearly intended for medical care given the bed had railings and there was a sharp antiseptic scent over everything. The stiff white sheets fit the overall impression of a medical facility.

“This is the third time you’ve woken up enough for me to try talking to you, so stop me if any of this sounds familiar. You may call me Master Elmwood, as I am a Master of Charms in the employ of the Department of Mysteries as an unspeakable. You appeared quite suddenly during a storm of magic on August the thirty-first that caused quite a lot of temporal flux. Everything about it is now classified, and when you are stable enough you will be taking an oath to protect any and all knowledge of what happened to you.” The man paused, his nose scrunching in distaste as he said the next bit in a hurry.

“There was some consideration for putting you out of your misery, but it was determined that getting you well enough to talk to would likely provide us a lot of answers about how you came to be blasted through the weave of the world as you were. Morally, it would be repugnant to end your life now that you are no longer suffering so severely, especially since we have determined you are an actual child, the effects of the temporal magic aside. The muttering in your sleep that you’ve been doing as well as the divination we have done over your person has made it clear you are no friend of the forces currently attacking the Ministry of Magic. Because of this, my department had decided to provide you with the means to continue your life as best that you can once we have sorted all of this out.” The man stopped there, looking expectantly at him.

“I… I’m not sure,” the boy on the bed tried to say, but it came out in a painful croak. Master Elmwood offered him a cup of water, and instinctively the boy sniffed it twice and let some dribble on his hand and the sheet before he took a drink. Hospital sheets were charmed to react to most potions, or was that just to non-neutral acidity? He couldn’t quite remember, but he didn’t feel any magic in the water and the sheets stayed white so it was probably safe. “Everything’s a bit jumbled. I remember I was fighting, not just once but over and over again for so long, and I… I think I gave up. Just, I remember I walked to where he was and just let him… I let him.” “There was a lot of blood on you that wasn’t yours,” Master Elmwood said, very matter of fact.

“I watched him die. I… I can’t remember his name, and it was all so complicated and I can’t… I don’t understand, but he kept me safe and then he died in so much pain. He bled on me, and he begged me with his last breath, and there wasn’t anything I could do, and then I gave up and let… let Tom kill me,” the boy said, feeling a bit frantic at not being able to remember his own name let alone untangle the mess that were hsi most recent memories. Had there been some kind of contest, or a night at a bar? None of the pieces fit together easily. The person he watched die shifted from an older man with a severe face to a pretty blond boy as he thought about it.

“Unspeakables are sworn not to reveal anything about our work outside the department, so you can tell me anything and it will remain secret,” Master Elmwood soothed. “Take your time, you’ve been through a lot and temporal magic is especially confusing.”

“The names, I, I just can’t, I don’t know my own name, but I know Tom. Tom Marvelo Riddle wanted me dead, and then I went to let him do it after… I think Hogwarts fell. He always wanted me dead, from when I was first born,” the boy said.

“You’ve spoken quite a lot in parseltongue while you were delirious, and we believe you thought you were talking to Tom. By that we mean Tom Riddle, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord that is currently threatening all of Albion.” The boy on the bed nodded. “He has gone to great lengths to destroy all of his family members in one way or another, not that we know his motivations for doing so. It makes sense that a, and forgive me if this isn’t correct, but that a bastard child of his would soon find death or destruction at his wand.” The older man waited for any reaction, but the boy on the bed merely turned the words around in his head silently, trying to fit them into the fragmented shards of who he used to be that flashed and twirled in his mind.

“I suppose I’ll need to jog your memory. We’ve done a number of tests to try and piece together who you are and where you are from. You are of the Peverell line of pure-blood wizards and inherited parseltongue through your mother’s genetics, but we can’t be more specific than that. Perhaps your mother’s blood is not yet registered in a way we can cross-reference, meaning she is a muggle or muggle-born squib descendant, as it would take a couple generations to muddle our scrying. New blood is most commonly registered when marriages are submitted to the ministry, so that may or may not say a great deal about who you are and where you came from. Else, you have been altered somehow through blood magic so we can’t determine which branch of that family tree you hail from. Tom is from one branch of the Peverell tree, but there are others who may have sired you and we are sure it is your mother’s magic that is intertwined with parseltongue.” Master Elmwood refilled the water cup from a pitcher nearby, and the boy tested it again before drinking.

“Blood is a constantly changing potion that tells us much, but mostly about your current condition and not your history. Your scars and bones, however, tell many tales of your past. Additionally, when we found you your body was stuck in a loop aging to about twenty years and then reverting back to infancy in what must have been a traumatic and painful twist of magic. We observed the wounds you experienced through your life in this way, and the… the emaciated state you were in prior to age five. There were fluctuations in weight and health that indicate periodic bouts of child neglect and abuse. You have settled down at age fourteen now that you are free of that curse. Your birthday is July the thirty-first, the current year is nineteen-seventy-four, and it is the seventh of October. You will have a lot of healing to do before you can return to anything resembling a normal life.”

“I was… I was a student at Hogwarts. I had friends,” the boy said. “Are my friends alright? I… a red head boy and… and a girl with curly brown hair, I think?”

“If they are alive, and given the hostility of the attack on you that is unlikely if they were with you at the time you were cursed, then they will not remember you,” the man said, his voice gentle and low. He leaned forward, as if weighed down by the bad news he had to deliver. “The curse you suffered was meant to rip you out of reality itself, to undo your existence as if you had never been born in a destruction so total none would know it even happened. Whoever you were before, we can find no trace. There is no missing person report that matches your case in the last hundred years. There was no attack that had a similar surge of energy to match your appearance, nor was there any trace in the place we found you to indicate you lived nearby as far back as we can tell. We very carefully interviewed and collected the memories of the muggles who saw you in the temporal loop, and none had any idea who you could be.” Master Elmwood shifted in his chair, taking a breath before continuing.

“As far as anyone can tell, the dark magic curse aimed at you was partially successful. You were unmade enough that you were forgotten by all, but the caster was likely also effected and either waited too long to strike a killing blow or lost control of the spell somehow before you could be fully clipped out of the flow of real time. Once your enemy forgot you and stopped casting, the spell started to unravel and left you in that deplorable unstable state. There is a chance you are from the future, but we find it unlikely that you would go back further than your own birth for a spell of that kind. No magical child was born at or around the time you appeared.”

“So, I’m just, from nowhere?”

“Essentially, yes, as far as we can tell. You are fully detached from the flow of causality. That is good for you. If you have come back in time, you won’t cause a dangerous paradox that would necessitate the Department of Mysteries to list you as a threat to life and magic. Since you are a child, we hope we can re-insert you into society without too much trouble.” Master Elmwood smiled, but his words were chilling. The boy in the bed could have been executed twice by these people. First just to end his miserable suffering, and then again in case he was a time-traveler that would cause problems. “Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. I… I really can’t remember much clearly. I’m trying, but I just get little bits of stuff. A face or some words, but nothing that makes sense,” the boy said. “I know I walked to greet my own death, but beyond that it’s just ideas not memories. I like to fly, treacle tart, and owls. I had a snowy owl, and a few friends who helped me with… things. Bullies, maybe, I hate bullies.”

“Don’t force it, not yet. You have a long road of recovery, and the Masters of Thought will certainly want to examine you. Now, for the rules. There is no point in trying to lie to any of us, these rooms have spells to detect lies and we can’t help you unless you cooperate. You are, essentially, an experiment for most of my colleagues. We aren’t without morals, but you are in a secure part of the ministry reserved for the great mysteries of the world. You will be examined, healed, and eventually re-integrated into the outside world. We can’t help you without accurate information, and the possibility of such dark magic as what has been cast on you ever existing must never spread to more devious minds. The very idea of what was done to you is dangerous, and when you leave here we will take that knowledge from you so you will believe whatever life story is devised for you. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” the boy said. “I… I don’t think I could do anything about it.”

“No, you can’t. Compliance is, unfortunately, not a choice we can offer you in this case. You will have plenty of input in the story we’ll give you when you are well enough to be released. It has to be believable and fit well with what you can remember of your old life before it was erased, so your mind never rebells against it as false. You do understand why even the thought that what has been done to you could be possible is a dangerous thing to let out into the world, don’t you?”

“Yes. I… I can’t remember, but there was something. A quest to destroy some magic thing. Not this spell, but another evil magic we were keeping secret. We couldn’t tell anyone what we were doing because nobody could know they existed. For the greater good.” “For the Greater Good,” Master Elmwood parroted, leaning forward, a hint of alarm quickly hidden behind curiosity. “Tell me more about that.”

“The greater good is… it is… death for the sake of others. Sacrifice. So many died, while we were hunting for the way to stop Tom, but we didn’t know what we were doing. Lost in the woods, struggling to survive. The ministry fell, I think. I wasn’t supposed to live through it at the end, but I did,” the boy took a deep breath. “It’s easier to think of the broad strokes rather than the details.”

“That’s expected. Take your time. Anything you can tell us, so long as it is honest, will count in your favor.” Master Elmwood leaned back, looking pleased. After an hour some food was brought for the boy, some simple broth and bread to not tax his system. They spoke of many topics, testing the boy’s knowledge and feeling out what kind of person he was until exhaustion drug him back into sleep.

I would like feedback on if this is an interesting idea or not.

Later on in this draft Snape and Harry are singing along to Queen on the radio, and it has a lot of very old headcanon about Snape from right after HBP was published, some of which was deeply Jossed when the 7th book came out (I said they were old WIPs didn't I?) It's a bit of 'adults are competent' and 'best possible timeline' in that the Department of Mysteries gets to know that Voldemort is making Horcruxes in the 70's and do the responsible adult thing of working to take care of that instead of asking kids to do it. Our hero does fight Death Eaters, but mostly it's him putting together a life without unearned notoriety and fame. If Harry is back in time from the accident that broke all the time turners in the DoM battle, if he came back from the train station near-death experience, or if someone tried to erase him from time intentionally at some point after the year 1999 is all... well, it's all in these notes as alternate ideas. I typed up the above from paper journals and it was more a collection of free-writing than a constructed narrative.

Getting this to the point of being able to post it will require a full rewrite. Not just because most of it was written before book seven (this first scene was obviously written later than most of the rest of it) but also because it's a bit shit and was more about processing the trauma of watching the twin towers fall right after I signed up to join the National Guard (I was medically rejected due to a heart condition I didn't know I had, the path of my life would have been so different otherwise.) So, there are whole sections that are just... teenaged crap that needs fixing very badly.

#harry potter #time travel #marauders era #manipulative dumbledore #The Greater Good as a bad political movement #at least according to the people who find Harry in the 1970's #first chapter challenge #but I'm doing it to myself #feel free to join in if this sparks something in you #feedback requested #my writing #jkr needs to clean the black mold out of her house and get well

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mcmansionhell · 6 months ago

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namesake mcmansion

Howdy folks! Today's McMansion is very special because a) we're returning to Maryland after a long time and b) because the street this McMansion is on is the same as my name. (It was not named after me.) Hence, it is my personal McMansion, which I guess is somewhat like when people used to by the name rights to stars even though it was pretty much a scam. (Shout out btw to my patron Andros who submitted this house to be roasted live on the McMansion Hell Patreon Livestream)

As far as namesake McMansions go, this one is pretty good in the sense that it is high up there on the ol' McMansion scale. Built in 2011, this psuedo-Georgian bad boy boasts 6 bedrooms and 9.5 baths, all totaling around 12,000 square feet. It'll run you 2.5 million which, safe to say, is exponentially larger than its namesake's net worth.

Now, 2011 was an anonymous year for home design, lingering in the dead period between the 2008 black hole and 2013 when the market started to actually, finally, steadily recover. As a result a lot of houses from this time basically look like 2000s McMansions but slightly less outrageous in order to quell recession-era shame.

I'm going to be so serious here and say that the crown molding in this room is a crime against architecture, a crime against what humankind is able to accomplish with mass produced millwork, and also a general affront to common sense. I hate it so much that the more I look at it the more angry I become and that's really not healthy for me so, moving on.

Actually, aside from the fake 2010s distressed polyester rug the rest of this room is literally, basically Windows 98 themed.

I feel like the era of massive, hefty sets of coordinated furniture are over. However, we're the one's actually missing out by not wanting this stuff because we will never see furniture made with real wood instead of various shades of MDF or particleboard ever again.

This is a top 10 on the scale of "least logical kitchen I've ever seen." It's as though the designers engineered this kitchen so that whoever's cooking has to take the most steps humanly possible.

Do you ever see a window configuration so obviously made up by window companies in the 1980s that you almost have to hand it to them? You're literally letting all that warmth from the fire just disappear. But whatever I guess it's fine since we basically just LARP fire now.

Feminism win because women's spaces are prioritized in a shared area or feminism loss because this is basically the bathroom vanity version of women be shopping? (It's the latter.)

I couldn't get to all of this house because there were literally over a hundred photos in the listing but there are so many spaces in here that are basically just half-empty voids, and if not that then actually, literally unfinished. It's giving recession. Anyway, now for the best part:

Not only is this the NBA Backrooms but it's also just a nonsensical basketball court. Tile floors? No lines? Just free balling in the void?

Oh, well I bet the rear exterior is totally normal.

Not to be all sincere about it but much like yours truly who has waited until the literal last second to post this McMansion, this house really is the epitome of hubris all around. Except the house's hubris is specific to this moment in time, a time when gas was like $2/gallon. It's climate hubris. It's a testimony to just how much energy the top 1% of income earners make compared to the rest of us. I have a single window unit. This house has four air conditioning condensers. That's before we get to the monoculture, pesticide-dependent lawn or the three car garage or the asphalt driveway or the roof that'll cost almost as much as the house to replace. We really did think it would all be endless. Oops.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

#architecture #design #mcmansion #mcmansions #ugly houses #interior design #mcmansion hell #bad architecture #2010s #maryland

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amaranthinespirit · 4 months ago

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blue collar or cowboy!simon riley who would fuck you in the bed of his truck

simon was always out working so hard all day, coming home with dirt caked on his clothes. you'd have to scold him when he would track mud through the house—that you had just cleaned from whenever he came in yesterday.

he'd grovel, pressing kisses to the bare skin of your shoulder, the well-worn, holed shirt you stole from him slipping off your frame. muttering promises between each press of his lips further up your neck, along your jaw.

who are you to resist?

and who is he to either?

your pants pooled at your ankles, shirt hiked up your back and drooping off one shoulder. your inner thighs are slick and glistening with arousal and saliva.

a rough hand pushes down on your back, further squishing your chest into the hard metal of his truck bed, another grasping firmly at the fat of your backside where simon's face is lapping at your dripping cunt.

soft mewls cry from your lips, hands reaching back to grasp as his head, fingers tangling through the short locks of dirty blond. he only grunts in response—sorry, luvie, he's in heaven.

your legs are trembling, knees threatening to buckle under you with three orgasms already coaxed out of you on his tongue alone, milking you of your sweet, slick nectar.

your quiet, strained cries do nothing, but aid the tightness in his dirtied jeans, his cock oozing arousal in his boxers, dampening the fabric beyond his zipper. every involuntary shift of his hips causes more friction and tension with the denim, sending a groan throughout your pussy.

his noises vibrate against your pussy, shocking your overstimulated, and oversensitive, clit. all you can do is cry out as he pushes himself deeper, closer. his tongue is merciless, selfish as he threatens to swallow you whole.

at this point, you're begging for relent, repeated pleas of his name falling from your lips as the familiar heat builds in your tummy, and you writhe under his hands. the cold metal turning warm under you as it digs into your skin.

everything becoming overstimulating as the world begins to spin, jaw going slack, saliva pooling in your mouth as it threatens to spill over your swollen lips.

tears are streaming down your flushed face, your hair is frizzy and eyes are practically rolling to the back of your head as yet another release washes over you, sending a shudder through your body.

simon finally pulls his face away from the heaven between your thighs, not without flattening his tongue over your cunt for a last taste.

the lower half of his face glistening, coated in your juices, he desperately licks his lips to savor it. as he stands up from his position, his hand on your back pushes you back down onto the bed of his truck.

"n't done, luvie, be'a gud girl 'nd stay still," he kneaded the flesh of your backside, groaning at the sight in front of him.

his hands meet your hips, pulling you back on his clothed erection. a small yelped wince escapes your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt. your frayed nerves against the harsh material that soaks up your arousal and previous releases.

you whine as he rocks his hips slowly, grunting as he watches the material dampen so easily before he pulls away from your hips.

his movements are hasty, not wasting any more time as he barely undoes his belt and zipper, freeing his heavy cock from the constraints of his jeans.

he whines softly at the warmth of your puffy, swollen folds as he rubs his cockhead up and down your pussy before catching your slit.

he groans at the tightness that welcomes him, the slick, clamping, spongy walls that pulse around his dick almost milks him of every last drop of sperm that fills his heavy balls.

your voice is hoarse, almost gone by the time his cock is sheathed in you, his cockhead brushing your cervix as you feel the precum oozing from his slit. you can feel every prominent vein of his cock against your spongy walls, they're practically ingrained in you, your pussy molded to take his dick.

a creamy, white circle forms at the base of his cock as he forces his entire length inside, his girthy dick stretching your weeping pussy with loud, lewd squelches.

he doesn't give you time—he's selfish tonight, unapologetically so because luvie, he didn't track any dirt through the house! this is him rewarding himself for being so good! you can't discourage that, can you?

it isn't long until your backside is red, his hips pistioning into your sopping cunt, the sight of your slick pussy swallowing his red, angry cock so needily, sucking him in so desperately and clamping around him was addicting, and the feel even more so. his pace isn't nice, it's mean, and relentless, and bruising.

"fuck, lovie, couldn' wait t'hav ya," he whined in your ear, his cock drilling into your tight hole as he nipped at your earlobe. calloused, rough and dirty hands kneading the fat of your ass, a sharp slap to your skin causing it to turn even more flushed and red as he fucked himself stupid.

he was pussy-drunk, drool dripping from his cracked, dry lips onto the expanse of your shoulder. he'd press lewd, wet kisses against your supple skin, adding to the trails of saliva that pooled from his lips.

you'd have bruises the shape of his fingers on your ass for days, maybe even a week after, because of how hard his hands grasp your backside, pulling you back onto his cock as he milks himself dry.

"need t'fill y'r pussy, baby," his voice comes out a low, rough whine, despite the heavy grasp and force he exerts, "fuck, 's all f'me, ain't it?"

he'd always make sure to put dirt on the floors if it meant making it up to you by stuffing his face between your thighs.

or, making sure to kick off his boots outside the door if it meant rewarding himself like this, again, and again, and again.

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caffeinewitchcraft · 8 months ago

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Everything I've Ever Written (on Tumblr)

I have been writing online since 2016. As a result, I have quite the few short stories listed below! They're all from different parts in my writing journey and I hope you enjoy.

If you'd like to read what I currently put out, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)

Cinderella Doesn't Believe in Fairy Tales

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Part 4 / Part 5 /Part 6

Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

Destiny Universe

You Are the Demon King

The Hero and Hope (part 1) (part 2)

Being Villagers

Heroes and Villains

Therapist for Villains

Juniper and Discus

Self Destruct Villain (flash fiction)

Dandelion (A Villain Story)

You Help Kill Heroes

You are the Shark Hero

Mist into a Tempest

The Civilian and the Reluctant Hero

No Heroes Here

The Spoiler (humor, flash fiction)

You are Legacy

Hero in Title

Dark Lord's Former Coworker

One Minute

The Fae:

You Become Powerful

Your Friend Takes Your Name

Larkin and Yvette

Debt Must Be Repaid (humor flash fiction)

Going to the Hill

The Fae are Free

When They Don't Know (submitted to elsewhereuniversity)

The Chosen One

The Chosen One's Parents

Fate and Mercy and Dead Girls

Amulet to Save Her

Hero's Apprentice (Flash fiction)

The Aftermath of the Chosen One

Wizards Stole My Brother

You are the Chosen One's Knight

The Chosen One is a History Major

You are the Most Powerful Magic User

Time Restarts and She Remembers

Better the Witch than the Kid

Witches

It Was in a Name

The Good Witch of Hawthorne

Berthe the Green Witch

Cursed Mold (flash fiction)

Love isn't Enough

I Can't Believe it's not Proper Adjudication

Devil Deals

The Devil You Know

The Ritual

They Summoned Her on Halloween (flash fiction)

Fairytale Retellings

Ariel and Ursula (age appropriate)

The Gods

Zeus' Son

Faith in Technology

Sci-Fi

Six Red Bulls and Persistence

The Sound of Silence

Emmaline and the Apartment

Humans are Vengeful

Humans Know War (that's why we have diplomacy)

Criminals Forced to Live on as AI (flash fiction)

Misc Fantasy

Wind-Speaker

Wind-Speaker and Her Wife

You Will Become

The Sirens and Leona (flash fiction)

Eldritch Princess (flash fiction)

Princess Maria and the Dragon

Princess Maria is Kidnapped

Immortals are Afraid of Change

Fiona the Dragon

A Violently Won War

Meta Stories

An Abstract Concept

Narrative Town

Narrative Town: Uncle Ralph

Princess Phaedra Breaks

You are a Horror Movie Villain

Ghost Stories

Malevolent Spirits

Your House is Haunted by an Anime Pillow

Don't Open the Door

Grandma's House

Who Is? (flash fiction)

A Face (flash fiction)

Misc.

You Choose Your Fate in Hell

Time Paradox (flash fiction)

You are an Assassin

Multiple Dimension Serial Killer (flash fiction)

An Exercise in Mary Sue

She Comes Back from the Hospital (tw eating disorder)

Roses and Evil (mental health flash fiction)

Big Brother

A Conversation About Anger

Punching Depression

Two Sides (flash fiction)

Immortal Serial Killer in Prison

Theater Romance (flash fiction)

The Lady and the Knight (flash fiction)

Different (flash fiction)

#gonna post this now and then edit before it consumes everyone's dashboards #long post

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