#there could have been something nonhuman down there that got Harry first

[lycanthrology]

1. Your first OC ever? / 2. Do you have a personal favourite among your OCs? / 12. Name an OC that isn’t yours but who you like a lot / 19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why) / 25. The OC that resembles you the most (same hobby, height, shared like/dislike for something etc?) / 32. Which one of your OCs would be the most suitable horror game protagonist and why? / 44. Something you like about your OCs in general

Yeah this is long

1. Your first OC ever?

I could dig up some old notebooks and share some of the worst characters you’ve ever seen in your life. One that’s sticking out to me is a werewolf called Maze. When I was 7 or so, my friend group got me to write them into a sparticle mystery inspired apocalypse situation. The characters were NOT meant to be us 😡😡😡 but it was very clear that they were. Each was a different fantasy/horror creature like vampire, ghost, siren etc and I can't remember anything about Maze except she was a werewolf and my shitty self insert. And I got very angry because a teacher read it and pronounced her name as Maisy. It’s Maze like the labyrinth like the CORN

2. Do you have a personal favourite among your OCs?

Lennox and Kaleela mean so much to me. Especially when they talk to each other. It’s fun to write their interactions. I’ve been getting into William a lot recently. Underrated.

12. Name an OC that isn’t yours but who you like a lot

Your OC Weston!! I might’ve spelled his name wrong. I don’t know much but I think about him often. @vonkarma2 ‘s wizard world is rotting my brain near on 24/7. Rocio, Cirillo, Lucia, Gloria, + Jacinto in particular.

If anyone ever wants to talk about their OCs, please message me. I love hearing about them and will get so excited

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)

Oh I can’t do this. I’m going to say Crow but not for the reason you’ll expect.

I haven’t talked about this much but Crow has Klinefelter's and is intersex, and even though this has very little impact on the actual narrative (debatable. I don’t have the time to explain this but there is quite a lot of subtext) and he doesn’t even know it himself, it’s so important to me that he’s there living in that body.

I can count the amount of intersex characters that exist on one hand. And most of them are offensive or distasteful. Like two characters merged into one body, mutants, or some kind of alien or nonhuman creature (<- yes I know crow is nonhuman too but it’s ok this time because i said so. Also if you know him he’s far more than just ‘nonhuman creature’) Even if an intersex character is considered ‘good representation’, they’re always so boring!! Even in independent work by LGBT+ authors there are rarely intersex characters. Forget about intersex headcanons or OCs. There’s nothing at all and it’s so isolating. And even if there is, people erase their intersexuality by calling them trans or nonbinary when they’re intercis. Just make intersex characters!! Do it!! If you get it wrong, at least you’re trying

So when Crow fits the archetype of the beloved miserable bad boy, wrestling with his identity and personhood, murderer with so many problems begrudgingly working with the protagonists, but he’s existing as an intersex man(!!) That’s revolutionary to me. It’s very healing. If nobody else is doing it, you’ve got to take matters into your own hands

25. The OC that resembles you the most (same hobby, height, shared like/dislike for something etc?)

I’m like Harry Dashwood because I want to be in the House of Lords and would push Crow down a flight of stairs. That’s a joke. Kaleela because I’m annoying about bad films, love my friends, and have an unfounded fear that everyone hates me.

32. Which one of your OCs would be the most suitable horror game protagonist and why?

Lennox. He’s smart, and brave, and he knows when to quit. But he’s so recklessly curious. Kind of guy to investigate a strange noise in a forest alone at midnight. Kind of guy to spend a month trying to solve an ARG. Kind of guy that escapes the narrative then comes back a year later because [bloodborne voice] oh how the secrets beckon so sweetly. He isn’t an idiot and he won’t persue something pointless or overtly dangerous. Sometimes something will get lodged in his head and he Needs to investigate it.

44. Something you like about your OCs in general

Name one good decision any of them have ever made. You can’t.

[stay-outta-my-blood-circle]

In honor of his day, I watched both My Bloody Valentine movies today, and I've got some Harry Warden thoughts to share - especially regarding my pet headcanon of him as a Michael-Myers-esque liminal holiday-haunting. (Keep in mind this is not intended to be dogmatic, and I could easily be completely wrong, but I'm absolutely gonna die on this hill.)

For the record - and I realize it's an unpopular opinion - I prefer the remake to the original (for reasons, leave me alone), and it's the remake I'll mostly be talking about here, but let's start with the OG movie. Spoilers ahead, if that matters to you. Also, I think this is even longer than my post about Vincent's face, so buckle up.

So, to recap the original:

Harry Warden, along with a four others, ends up trapped in the mine after his supervisors cut corners and leave early so they can go to the town's valentine's day dance. After six weeks, they finally dig them out, but Harry is the only one still alive - he'd killed and eaten the others to survive. He spends a year in a mental institution before returning (on Valentine's day) to kill the supervisors that caused the cave in - and then disappears again. Twenty years later, the town dares to hold the Valentine's dance again - and back comes Harry Warden to paint the town red (literally).

... Or does he? We find out that the real Harry Warden actually died five years ago, and when the miner is unmasked he turns out to be Axel - bf of the heroine and old friend(?) of TJ, the protagonist. It is revealed that one of the supervisors Harry killed twenty years ago was Axel's father, and Axel (a young child at this point) had witnessed the murder. He ends up separated from the others by a small cave in and loses an arm in the rubble, but manages to run away after some crazy mutterings.

We are left to understand that watching Harry kill his father traumatized him and caused some kind of insanity to take root, which led to this mental break. Which, okay, sure - it's not an unusual motivation for a killer in this genre. To round out this section, I'm going to note some of Axel's final lines (without telling you why it's important yet):

"Harry, I'm coming!" and "we're coming back, you bastards!"

Now on to the remake.

It mostly follows in the footsteps of the original, with a few twists. This time, Harry ends up trapped in the mine with 5 other men because our protagonist, Tom (this movie's version of TJ, and also the son of the mine owner), forgets to double check the standard safety precautions before he leaves (for a Valentine's party with his friends, I think). In this case, it's more of a genuine accident than negligent slacking, but either way the deed is done.

They dig him out sooner this time (after less than a week, I'm pretty sure), but he's 'in critical condition... delusional and combative' - and still the only survivor. They eventually retrieve all the bodies and realize the men were killed by pickaxe blows (but not cannibalized), and theorize that Harry killed them all to conserve his own oxygen. They can't ask Harry, because he's in the hospital in a coma - where he stays for a whole year, until next Valentine's day. At which point he wakes up, massacres an entire wing of the hospital, and escapes.

He shows up at the mines, where Tom is attending a party with his girlfriend, and slaughters a bunch of people again. He finally ends up face-to-face with Tom and tries to kill him, but the police chief arrives and shoots him a few times. He stumbles away into the mine, and the story goes that he was never found but is presumed dead. Tom is shaken and moves away.

When the murderous miner turns up again ten years later, right after Tom returns to his hometown to sell the mine, everyone assumes Harry is back - especially since he seems to be gunning for Tom in particular - until we find out that the sheriff and a couple other town elders had actually found, killed, and buried him out in the woods after the attack at the mine - keeping it a secret since they basically executed him without due process. Except... when they go to check the body, it's gone, along with all his stuff! So maybe it is him after all?

Nope, it isn't. And it's not Axel, either, unlike the original movie. It was Tom the whole time, but the thing is... he doesn't seem to be aware of it. He seems to truly believe the miner is some other person (Axel, he thinks) - he sees him, after all. He has no reason to suspect what he's seeing isn't real.

During the climax, Axel reveals that he found records of Tom having been in a mental institution up until recently, right before Tom starts to panic as "Harry Warden" approaches them - much to the confusion of the two other people present, who, in fact, don't see anything where he's pointing.

Tom begins to have flashbacks which show him committing the murders he previously attributed to Harry (as well as taking his mask, etc from his makeshift grave site):

He's visibly distressed and confused both during and immediately after these flashbacks -- right up until this moment:

Sarah: Harry's not here, Tom.

Axel: No... he's here. Aren't you, Harry? You living inside Tom?

Tom(?): Oh, I'm right here.

Notice that sudden shift? Expression, tone of voice, emotional state - it all changes like a switch has been flipped. And from here on, he doesn't seem to be 'Tom' anymore. He proceeds to chase Axel and Sarah (whom he has always been shown to care deeply about, and protect, btw) around the mine, while wearing an expression we've never seen on him before, until he gets shot, part of the mine caves in around him, and Axel and Sarah make it out. They assume Tom(?) was killed in the cave in (he wasn't; he is canonically still alive and I want a sequel, damn it, but that's off topic).

So: the guy's just crazy again, right? Dissociative Identity Disorder or something? Well, let's talk about that, because...

For my money, the answer is no.

Do you remember those lines of dialogue from the original film that I noted earlier? Contrast those with the ones just above.

"We're coming back" vs. "I'm right here."

Axel never claims to be Harry Warden (I'm pretty sure) - nor is he shown in that light - it's more like he's taken up the mantle. Tom, on the other hand...

Visually, the movie seems to be making a pretty clear point here -- and that point is supernatural possession.

But Rune, I hear you say, these things could easily be explained by DID! They did make specific mention of his time in a mental institution, after all. Besides, nothing explicitly paranormal has happened in the movie before now.

And you're right! You're so smart!! But let me tell you why I believe the scales tip in the direction of possession. Remember how I said Tom found where Harry was buried and took his mask and pickaxe? And remember how I also said that Harry's grave site was a well-kept secret (like a 'take this to my grave' kind of secret)?? Yeah.

How would Tom - who hasn't been back to his hometown in a decade, I might add - know where to find Harry's grave? He walked right up to it and started digging. While we're at it, I'd like to point out that when Harry did this in the beginning:

Tom wasn't there yet to see it. But see what he's doing in the gifs above? No way is that a coincidence.

So, in light of all the evidence provided herein, my statement is this: Tom doesn't have DID, nor is he "copying" Harry -- he's possessed by him. Probably has been since before he left Harmony (leading to whatever symptoms landed him in an institution). And he wasn't even aware of it until the end of the movie.

In conclusion, I hereby propose that Harry Warden officially be included in the 'supernatural slashers' category.

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk.

[itsclydebitches]

(WLW anon) I really don’t like the “bad rep is better then none at all”. I hate that. We should want good rep, because bad rep has been used time and time again by homophobes as to say we shouldn’t get representation. To me it’s not “gay can have the same flaws as het”, it’s “fix the flaws in the het”. Also I know Renora being independent was a good, I was just saying in comparison BB. Also, yes, they were separated, but also didn’t stop thinking about each other. Especially bad with Yang.

Indulge me for a moment because I want to take a trip down memory lane and list some—just some—of the queer rep that has been important to me over the years:

Ellen comes out both as herself and as her character… years later, she’s a hated millionaire who is criticized for how she treats her staff

The wildly influential Buffy gives us two women entering a loving relationship… except then Tara is killed off, Willow goes evil for a time, and Buffy comes under fire for Joss Whedon’s everything

The beloved and respectable headmaster of one of the most popular book series ever published is revealed to be gay… except it doesn’t count because it wasn’t in the text and now all of Harry Potter is cancelled because JKR is transphobic

Kurt is an unambiguously gay teen in a hugely popular TV series, acting as one of the first overt representations a generation has seen… except he’s way too stereotypical and Glee is a joke now

Orange is the New Black gives us a number of queer women, including one of our first trans characters… but isn’t it problematic that they’re all criminals?

Brooklyn Nine-Nine hosts an out gay captain and gives us a bisexual coming out story that resonated with many, myself included… except now we’re supposed to hate all the characters on principle because they’re cops

Korra and Asami walk off into the spiritual sunset together… but they never kiss or anything, so that doesn’t count either

Steven Universe gives us a queer relationship and a wedding… but it’s an issue that this is just a kid’s show and, really, does it count when the rep is embodied by space rocks whose entire species only creates a single gender? Feels like a cop-out

Same with Good Omens. Yeah, Crowley and Aziraphale clearly love each other… but you never see them kiss or declare their intentions. It’s great ace rep though! Unless you want to level the criticism that asexual characters are always nonhuman

A character intended to be a minor guest becomes a show staple and eventually declares his love for one of the two main characters… except then Castiel immediately dies, Dean doesn’t respond, and they never meet on screen again

I finished Queen’s Gambit the other day and the main character had a one-night stand with a woman! … but everyone is talking about how bisexuality is used to represent her lowest point, so that’s bad too

I could go on for literal pages. Some of these arguments I agree with (Dumbledore), others I’ve pushed back against quite strongly (Crowley and Aziraphale), but all of them are valid criticisms depending on what part of the queer community you’re in and what your expectations are. My point here is that it’s all “bad rep.” I mean that seriously. If anyone reading this is scrambling for the comment section to say why [insert media title here] is actually fantastic rep, I guarantee that someone disagrees. Or if they don’t, give it some time. Just wait until the characterization becomes offensively outdated, or another part of the story ruins the relationship, or it comes out that the author did something truly horrific, or the terminology changes and it’s labeled as “problematic” now… just wait. At some point, any rep we feel is good rep now will be criticized, cancelled, and dragged through the mud. The rep that I personally haven’t seen much push-back against—like the beloved Captain Jack Harkness in Doctor Who, or Schitts Creek that just won a ton of awards—is wrapped up in the criticism, “So it’s all just about able-bodied, cis, (mostly) white dudes, huh? :/”  Even the argument that queer characters need to be written by queer authors doesn’t hold up. I absolutely adored Sense8. “Wow, a gay main character in a loving relationship with another gay man, both of whom enter a loving poly relationship with a woman, another lesbian trans main character who marries the love of her life on screen, an entire cast arguably queer due to them sharing orgy scenes centered around the emotional intimacy they share, everyone survives, and this was written by two trans women! Great, right?” Well, not according to the wealth of opinions explaining how Sense8 is horrible rep, actually. Every piece of rep we’ve got is either currently flawed or will become flawed in the future.

So what do we do with that?

That’s where my “I’d rather have bad rep than no rep at all” comes in. For me, that’s not waving the white flag. That’s not an oath that I won’t expect better rep in the future (I do) or that I won’t criticize the rep we get (BOY DO I), but rather just an acknowledgement of reality. The vast majority—if not the entirety—of rep is “bad rep” in one way or another, but I’d still rather have it than nothing at all. Because I’ve lived just long enough and studied media just enough to know what nothing looked like. It was watching all queer characters meet untimely deaths. Before that it was watching queer characters be derided and treated as jokes. Before that it was nothing but coding, where queer characters didn’t exist except in our own headcanons and interpretations. Obviously “bad rep” covers a very large range of issues and “They haven’t even confirmed this relationship yet” is a bigger issue than “This queer character embodies one or two, mild stereotypes,” but ultimately I’d take any of it over nothing at all. And enjoying what we’ve currently got doesn’t mean I’m willing to settle for it indefinitely.

To use an iffy analogy, imagine there’s a factory. This factory makes plates. So. Many. Plates. Big plates, small plates, plain plates, decorative plates, plates for every possible occasion in your life—and everyone with a steak for dinner is pleased as punch. You though? You’ve got soup. You need a bowl. Your entire life you’ve been struggling to eat your soup off a plate (it doesn’t work) and listening to friends and family claim that the plate with a slightly raised edge could be a bowl if you squint (it’s not). To say it’s frustrating is an understatement.

But then, one day, the factory starts producing bowls too. Hurray! Except as soon as you get your hands on one, you’re told you really shouldn’t be using it, let alone praising it. Look at the state of that bowl! It’s cracked right down the middle, ugly as hell, shoddily made all around… you’re not really going to settle for that, are you? And no, you obviously still want the factory to produce better bowls, but at the same time, this is a bowl. You’ve never gotten one before and you can finally enjoy your meal, even if the soup leaks at times. Sometimes a lot. But you’re still feeling better about your meal than you ever have before. And what you then begin to realize is that lots of the plates are a mess too. They also have cracks, they’re also ugly, many are also shoddily made. The difference is that the factory is producing so many plates at such a rapid pace that every steak eater is able to get by. One plate breaks completely? You’ve got a thousand fallbacks. Don’t like the look of this one? A thousand other options. You disagree about what “shoddily made” means? Luckily there are enough plates that everyone can find what they prefer! But the bowls… there’s only a few. Some are really expensive. Others are only available for a limited time before they suddenly disappear. Your bowl breaks and you have to wait months, years sometimes, to get another one. You’re constantly told to go buy this one obscure bowl no one else has heard about and yeah, you like it... but you’d also like to buy one of the bowls everyone is already enjoying. You find yourself looking at the plates and thinking, “I’d like that. I’d like to have so many options that the flaws, while still a problem, are much more bearable.” You’re still going to demand that the factory get its shit together, you’re still going to (rightly) complain about the awful quality of your bowl… but it’s still nice to have a bowl, period. There are still things you like about it, even if it’s a mess: the color, the size, the beauty of the shape of it. Its potential. You’re still pleased you have something to enjoy and that helps serve the need you’re looking to fill, even if that something is imperfect.

That’s “bad rep is better than no rep.” To bring this very long response back to Blake/Yang, I don’t think their problems negate their benefits. Is their relationship currently non-canonical and filled with a number of writing issues everyone has a right to be angry about? Yup. I express that anger a great deal. Are they still half of a team on a very popular show that is (presumably) set to be canonized as queer? Yup. I’d much rather live in a world where big shows like RWBY try to include queer rep and fail in a multitude of ways—with the expectation and hope that they’ll continue to improve—rather than in a world where authors a) don’t care or b) are too scared to try. Because that’s where a “good rep or no rep” stance leads. The danger isn’t homophobes because they’re, well, homophobes. It doesn’t matter if the rep is good or not, they hate it on principle. But if queer authors writing for other queer identities, or allies writing queer identities, or even queer authors writing their own experiences (like in Sense8) continually come under non-stop fire for their attempts… there’s a good chance that many people won’t ever try. We’re already seeing that here on tumblr with young authors admitting that they wouldn’t touch [insert topic here] with a ten-foot pole because just look at what happens when you get it wrong. And authors will get things wrong because authors are fallible people forever unlearning their own ignorance. So though it might sound strange coming from a blog that has turned into such a RWBY critical space, I am glad that RWBY’s queer rep exists, despite all the frustrations that I share about it. I think a RWBY with various types of “bad” queer rep is better than a RWBY with no queer rep at all, particularly when “bad” or “good” is so intensely subjective. There’s a middle ground between passively accepting whatever we’re given, and tearing into rep with such ferocity that we end up rejecting it all. There’s a space where we can be critical of rep and embrace the parts that work for us, simultaneously.

I hope and expect the het rep will get better too, but… that’s never going to happen instantly. To quote RWBY, there’s no magic wand we can wave to fix all our problems. Rather, it will take slow, plodding, meandering, lifetimes’ worth of work to see that change occur and I personally don’t want to spend the one life I have waiting for that perfect rep to show up. Because it’s unlikely that it will. While we work, I’d rather find the good in what rep we’ve already got.  

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 76: The Weighing of the Wands

Dust sparkled like raw glitter as it was thrown asunder from the surfaces they'd once sat upon, the eight teenagers began sneezing in painful succession and several of them yelped in pain as even more boxes piled atop them.

Danger came and went so frequently during these travels, none of them ever rarely felt safe enough to stow theirs away, though in a place like this it seemed more prudent just not to misplace it lest they pick the wrong one up. They were in Ollivander's.

Remus' breath caught in his throat, only causing him to cough harder and hopefully hide the look on his face. The place looked exactly the same as the first time he'd stepped in here, right down to the spindly chair he'd accidentally exploded on his second unclaimed wand. By the fourth one he'd been in a panic, casting anxious looks at his father to please tell him this was all still going to work out, that he did deserve a magic wand, he just wanted one normal experience. His father wouldn't quite meet his eyes when Ollivander came back with the fifth box, not looking nearly as deterred as Remus would have thought.

 "Here we are then, let's have this a try. Cypress wood, 10¼", unicorn hair, nice and pliable." He'd been cold and stiff, this had been the most he'd been around others in so long, and they'd come here at the crack of dawn before most of the shops even opened so that they could be the first into each. Lyall Lupin hadn't looked him in the eye all day, he'd been too busy casting suspicious glances at everyone around him, his hand never leaving his son's shoulder.

Ollivander knew, he was instantly convinced of that from those perturbant eyes, but when he'd finally wrapped his fingers around the bulbous end, the grooves already perfectly fit to match his fingers, warmth shot straight up his arm. With a surprised smile and a bit of prompting from Mr. Ollivander, he gave a little twirl and laughed in delight as the shop's lights all flared brightly as the sun and flashed every color of the rainbow before settling back. He'd hardly let it out of his sight since then, afraid the Minister or any person really would point out the very obscure law of nonhumans having wands, and where exactly he fell into that category...

Sirius watched the indecision flashing across Moony's face, like he couldn't decide if he was happy to be back here or not as he held his wand protectively instead of for protection. He understood why of course, they all nicked each other's stuff countless times, but never that. He shuffled all the closer to him now, keeping a leery eye on Regulus, Longbottom, or even Evans in case any of them dared say anything about it now that they could possibly guess the same, keeping his own very obviously at his side, running his hand down the ruins engraved in it he'd still yet to decipher.

 Cedar and 12 1/4th'', dragon heart-string, very rigid for a wand of this wood. The words played back to him clear as day back in this place, it had been the first disappointment of his parent's magical life after all. They would have expected him to have possessed a wand of Elder or Larch, those woods associated with power. He scoffed now as he had then, vividly remembering Ollivander's delight he'd gotten young Sirius' wand on the very first guess as he caused the shadows to flicker on the wall with purpose, all enfolding each other in the shape of snakes and almost scaring little Regulus.

Regulus, of course, would have denied that now had he been so informed, but the shop remained as vastly silent as ever. Even their ruckus of entering without its shopkeeper couldn't permeate the sheer magic in the air, the infinity of the shop's endless wand cases. He couldn't help himself from exploring at once, if there was one person he'd have voluntarily pulled along for his experience it would have been Garrick Ollivander. The man had fascinated him upon their very first meeting, being able to perfectly recite both of his parents and his brother's wands, and as many generations back as Regulus asked. The wandmaker had seemed delighted by him, pleasing his parents immensely as they began making rather transparent comments about bringing their youngest back around for Ollivander to take under his wing. 

He thought back to that day with feelings as mixed as ever, Sirius had already been showing a pension by that time for his troublemaking ways, unwilling to conform to what their parents expected of him. It had taken the master three try's to be given his own wand, "Apple, 13 1/3'', unicorn hair and vastly flexible to suit your needs," he recalled with perfect clarity. He'd gone home that night and looked up every bit of wandlore book his father owned and even sent out to their Uncle Alphard for more. He'd been pleasantly smug to find apple a rarer wand wood, no wonder his parents had left beaming, but the more he dug the more he began to wonder if even the great wandmaker of their time could make a mistake. After all, when he'd taken his extension to magic, smooth all the way to the end where it got the slightest of twists, there had been no gigantic display of magic as he'd once seen Sirius produce. All that had really happened was a sweep of wind blowing through the store, blowing robes and hair about sure, but nothing too memorable.

All the studying he'd done had said wands of apple went well to those who had high aims, but did not mix well with the Dark Arts. What other path was there that the two didn't mix?

Peter didn't feel the need to hide away from anyone anymore, but still he sought no one out for now as he stood looking over Ollivander's work station. He dared not touch anything, but inspected everything with intimate detail regardless. A wand was halfway through its shaping, the core still half shown in the top half yet whittled together, a bright phoenix feather-like his own, but of cherry wood instead of his red oak. His was also slightly shorter than this one was apparently going to be, and he had no way of knowing the flexibility of the wand, he wasn't even sure what his own meant yet. Malleable, something you could shape as you wish. It sure didn't feel as if he had any say in what he wished as of late. The design almost embodied his nickname, he noted ironically, the wood was weaved as if with the movement itself and had ringlets along the entirety of it.

What happened to it in this future? Had he lost it in his fight when he framed Sirius? Kept it to help resurrect the Dark Lord before returning that wand and then continuing with his own? The same wand he'd used to help him create his masterful disguise that had allowed his cowardice to be his life while hiding out at the Weasley's? A rat he'd gifted himself along with his friends help to aid Remus. He gazed miserably at his left hand, the one he'd accidentally made vanish from sight when Ollivander had taken six tries to give him his wand. He'd been too shy to ask at the time what the record was for how long it had taken him to find a matching pair, but he was sure his was up there, he was always an in-between it seemed.

Alice was growing quite weary of constantly finding herself alone and meandering around strange places looking for anyone else. If the goal of the book was for them to be getting real-life experience of how Harry was feeling, she'd say congratulations long before now. She still looked around with keen interest, as she'd actually never been here. She'd inherited her wand from her grandmother, and it suited her well, but even she hadn't gotten this wand from Ollivander himself, but overseas from Japan of all places. 

"Reed and 14'', with a unicorn hair. It's a steady wand for a steady hand now," she'd been warned upon her eleventh birthday. She'd heard from others it wasn't prudent to use another's wand, but it had always suited her fine, and she rather liked the almost candy cane design of the wand, though it dipped in a slight hook instead of inwards at the end. She wondered what Neville's was, the fond thought flitted through her mind as she continued walking past endless rows of yet unclaimed wands. From what little she'd heard of Augusta, she had managed to grow more stern with age, but surely even she'd managed a smile for Neville like he deserved when gifted a wand as well, possibly from this very shop? She certainly wasn't going to complain about the chance to look around regardless.

Frank stayed where he was for fear of disturbing any more dust and sneezing his face off next. The boxes and uncovered wands lay scattered around him, and he eyed at least five that happened to be pointing at him with exhaustion. He dared not move them away though, he didn't want the wands to think he was trying to claim them and causing something else to go wrong. Exhaustion was stopping him from moving away entirely, he hoped dearly they landed someplace they could kip down soon.

He wished he could get up and go find Alice, or even Lily, but remembered well his mother's warning about staying right beside her and getting lost, especially in this place. He already was though, so what was the harm? He nudged a wand with his foot as he began moving around, and it sparkled red in protest, so he slowly lowered himself back to his previous position and waited it out instead.

 "Apple, 12 1/4'', Phoenix, a very austere wand while I was creating it, but I'm sure you'll manage." Ollivander's words seemed to mock back at him now, his wand certainly did seem as strict with him as his own mother. It took intense concentration to manage even the simplest of spells, he didn't dare try it now when all his heavy-lidded eyes wanted to do was slide shut. Evans's voice, while uneasy giving poor Harry's accounts going through this, still had a charming, mellow sort of quality he was quickly nodding off to, only missing the warmth of Alice's hands to really help him relax.

Lily twirled her wand about in her hand, getting it caught between her ring finger and pointer and holding it like that for several minutes while reminding herself there was nothing to curse in here she should. No Charm she could utilize either to help. Just another surprisingly yet ill-received connection she felt to her son, over how lonely he felt. The way Sev had been freezing her out with increasing frequency lately to hang out with those others instead, well, he may as well have accused her of doing something she'd never do as well. Why was she the one being punished when she'd done nothing wrong?

Things had been so much simpler back when they'd just started school, they'd done everything together then, even here. The old man had smiled kindly at her starry-eyed gaze upon everything, it had only taken him his second try to fit her up. Willow, 10¼", unicorn hair*, a quite swishy wand upon development. It was her dream come true, the soft brown wood had intricate swirling designs like water inlaid in it, she'd taken him literally and began enthusiastically swishing it everywhere of course, and much as she'd imagined that first time in their grove, it finally happened as sparklers trailed after the end in a truly magical display, from her! She still remembered Ollivander giving such details to Harry when he'd come for his, a little Muggleborn like her had even been as memorable as all the others who came across this shop.

It made sense, of course, that when Harry was called for his wand to be inspected it was the best Britain had to offer to do it. She wondered what he thought of Harry now, had he and his wand lived up to the great things he expected of him? She still wished for him to have a more normal life than he was getting first.

James continued rummaging behind the desk, determined to find the bloody list. Surely the man had to have a list of all wands in this shop and keep a record of who he sold them too, there was just no way he simply memorized it all?! Evans had long since picked up the book and was reading it, he was too disgusted by the world Harry was living in to even consider it. Now his own son's friends were turning against him along with the rest of that mad school, thinking that kid would do this to himself? There was enjoying being the center of attention, and then there was his offspring, and he knew quite well which side of the line Harry stood on. Why wouldn't his best friend know that? 'No friends are perfect,' his own snide voice reminded him as he avoided looking at his own for now as well while he continued his solo quest.

Sirius and Remus were huddled up together and he had no idea where Peter landed. Seemed even this mad charade was giving them some breathing room for a few more moments, and he took to that while he could by continuing his search manually along the shelves now. He'd tried summoning it of course, with the very wand Ollivander had gifted him, mahogany, 11", dragon heartstring*, nice and supple. He'd even guessed right on his very first try, and the spurt of water that shot the man in the face was his reward as James ran from the shop in delight before his parents could even pay.

The reddish-gold wood that had an almost spiderweb-like pattern inlaid in it remained in his pocket for now though as he traversed the endless shelves, none of which were even marked, each box identical to the last. Only cracking one open revealed the wand inside, and he just didn't know enough about them to even guess at which could be Harry's, if it was even here. Merlin knew exactly when they were in this shop, Tom Riddle's could still be here for all he knew. He didn't even have a good excuse for why he was looking for it, just another way to connect to his son? As his days at Hogwarts grew more dangerous, and even cruel from the student body within, he wanted to punch Ron in the face more every second for not exactly being helpful when Harry needed him now more than ever, what with Sirius' insanity not exactly helping his son in their time.

HPHPHP

The ones noted with an * are of my own decision, the rest is cannon. Hope you enjoyed!

Alice Smith* - Reed, 14'', Unicorn, Steady, thicker at the base and thinning as it ended in a hook with one deep groove spiraling the entire thing.

Frank Longbottom/ Neville Longbottom's 1st Wand* - Apple, 12 1/4'', Phoenix, Austere, a very plain wand with no extra designs except at the very base of the wand where small scratches marked it as if the wood were already peeling.

James Potter- Mahogany, 11", (Core Unknown)/ Dragon Heartstring*, Supple, spiderweb pattern inlaid across the middle of it.

Lily Evans- Willow, 10¼", (Core Unknown)/ Unicron*, Swishy, little water like waves etched into it in a dizzying pattern when twirled around.

Peter Pettigrew's first wand*- Red Oak, 11'', Phoenix, Malleable, ringlets along the entirety of it.

Regulus Black* - Apple, 13 1/3'', Unicorn, Flexible, smooth all the way to the end where it got the slightest of twists like a star about to burst

Remus Lupin- Cypress, 10¼", Unicorn, Pliable, bulbous at the end with finger groves only to the halfway point

Sirius Black *- Cedar, 12 1/4th'', Dragon heart-string, Rigid, ancient ruins etched in

Mine is: Hornbeam wood with a dragon heartstring core, 12 ½" and surprisingly swishy flexibility, and I like to think the design would resemble a turtles shell pattern.

Let me know yours?

[shadowfae]

Hi im pretty sure I'm kin but I have doubts and shit because I have multiple kintypes. How do you know you're kin?

Okay, I’m home, time to jump right in. So, we’re gonna do this in two parts like we did the first guide I did on this. Part one: What Is Otherkinity, What’s Related To It: A Crash Course To Terminology. This is gonna be so we’re clear from the getgo on things. Part two: A Few Methods That May or May Not Work To Figuring Shit Out. This is some of the ways I know - but your experience will be deeply personal and unique, so don’t worry if you don’t stick to any one method, and it’s not about following the method so much as it is finding the answers and being satisfied with what you know.

This guide, however, will not go over most community things, like history and culture. That requires [groaning noises] sourcing things, and I hate doing homework. That you can hunt down from folks who have been here much longer than me. It also isn’t a comprehensive guide on experiences, because trying to mention everything would quite possibly kill me and requires a lot more teamwork and surveys and interviews and chasing down books that are no longer in print. So yeah, don’t expect everything.

I could just link the first guide I made, but it’s good to make a new one a few years later. Under the readmore, but let’s go!

Part One: Otherkinity, Related Experiences, and A Quick Guide To Terminology.

Side note - this is not a comprehensive guide of the terminology, there’s far too many terms and I am literally writing this entirely off the top of my head. If I forget stuff, don’t @ me unless it’s a glaring issue. :p 

Otherkinity: An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially as a nonhuman or fictional entity, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. Every one of those words is important. It is not necessarily spiritual or psychological, though it can be. You ID as the thing, not with it. It is you. You are the thing. It can be nonhuman or fictional or both, but not neither because that just leaves humanity. Some identify partially, and some identify wholly as nunhuman/fictional. I don’t ID entirely as nonhuman, but I do identify wholly as fictional, for example. (I’ll get into that later). It’s nonphysical, you can’t physically shapeshift, obviously. It’s involuntary, you don’t choose it. This isn’t a roleplay, this is identity at its base. It can be changed, but not easily, and not really voluntarily. It is also profound. It is a part of you, it’s never going away, you aren’t exactly who you are without it.

Therianthrope: An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially as a nonhuman, physically real Earth-based animal, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. Otherkin, but for Earth animals, like dogs or dinosaurs or bugs. 

Fictionkin(d):An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially as a fictional entity, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. Often considered the other side of the Venn diagram to therianthropy. This is where you’re a fictional character or entity or member of a fictional species. Harry Potter or a Pikachu, it’s all fictionkin. 

Fictionkind is a bit of an older term, and there has been a push to use it more as ‘fictionkin’ has seen more use amongst those who think it’s a form of roleplay, trading cards, or who have figured out that they can misuse community terms into their purity cults in order to control others. As well, otherkind was one of our first terms, but you’ll rarely see it used. They both share an ending of -kin, which is not from ‘kin as in your blood family’ but -kind, as in mankind, elvenkind, so thus otherkind, fictionkind. It’s not a relating to, it’s a being of.

Theriomythic:An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially as a mythical nonhuman animal, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. This is for those of us who are unicorns, griffons, dragons, etc, all the nonhuman animals that do not physically exist but are not necessarily under what’s considered fiction. It’s one of the prettiest words we have, in my opinion. 

Phytanthrope: An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially as a plant-based lifeform, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. Otherkin, but you’re a plant. I’m including it here because it’s a very pretty-sounding word, and although not as common, certainly real and not something you might recognize. It’s completely interchangeable with ‘plantkin’, but it sounds cool, so.

Otherhearted: An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially with a nonhuman or fictional entity, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. Like otherkin, but you are not the thing, you ID with the thing. It is close to you, it is what you’d be if you weren’t what you are. The difference, to put it in layman’s terms, otherkin is #me and otherhearted is #god i wish that were me. But like, way more profound. Are you the thing, or is it just incredibly close to you? Both are a part of your identity, just slightly different. 

Synpath: Like otherhearted, and was made by someone who didn’t know the word for otherhearted. It caught on and the difference is mostly accepted as linguistic: if it’s a general noun it’s a hearttype, if it’s a proper noun and thus is a name or requires a capital, it’s a synpath. Tl;dr: you can be unicornhearted, but you’re a Harry Potter synpath.

Otherlink: An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially with a nonhuman or fictional entity, on a nonphysical and voluntary level. This one’s a little more recent. It is like a kintype, but it is voluntary, you can choose it, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be a Big Thing like otherkinity. You will also see ‘copinglink’, which actually came first - that one’s an otherlink made to cope with something. (Both terms were made by @/who-is-page, aka a person you Need to be following if you’re gonna be on the tumblr community with us.) Otherlink and copinglink are incredibly handy terms, and when you need ‘em, you’re glad they’re there.

Shifting: An experience in which something ‘shifts’ in the mental or emotional shape to a different state of being, related to otherkinity and/or any related experiences. This one is such a common term, and hard to properly define without going into nuances. Mental shifts are when your mental state shifts to align better with a kintype, aura shifts are when your aura does that, shadow shifts are some sort of astral projection, astral shifts involve the astral realm, berserk shifts are extreme mental shifts that typically involve violence or loss of reason, etc, etc. Most of the time, if someone says they’re in an X shift, they mean mental shift. 

Multiplicity: An ontological experience in which a person is not alone in their body. Before someone @s me, I know it’s badly worded here. This is DID, OSDD-1, and endogenic systems, alongside a few other things. A kintype is you, a multiple is not you but also in your body. I won’t be going over this much as I am not multiple, but it’s good to know about. It’s not otherkinity, nor really related, but if you’re gonna learn about otherkinity, it helps to know about multiplicity. Also see soulbonding and tulpamancy.

Alterhumanity: An overarching community term for all those who do not feel completely, 100% human; or rather those who feel an altered version of humanity. Basically, someone got really tired of saying ‘otherkin, otherhearted, otherlinks, OSDD-1 and DID, endogenic systems, etc etc’ and made a term for everyone. It’s controversial on just who it defines as it also includes transhumanists (those who wish to physically become nonhuman, even if they ID as human) and many other things in a gray area, but as someone who’s gonna be typing otherkin, otherhearted, otherlinks, systems, etc etc a whole lot in this post? It’s handy. 

Phantom Limbs: An experience in which a brain maps out limbs that do not physically exist. This is originally a medical term, but it’s also incredibly useful. It refers to all limbs that don’t exist but you’re still pretty sure are there. Amputees experience this, and you know the rubber hand experiment where they hide your arm and trick your brain into thinking a plastic arm is your arm, and then hit the plastic arm and you feel pain? Yeah, phantom limbs. There’s also supernumerary phantom limbs, which is the Extra Bits like fangs and wings and horns and tails. Astral limbs, however, refer to the astral realm, and that’s a magic and spirit work thing, not an otherkin thing.

Paratype: An identity that is related to one’s alterhumanity but does not precisely adhere to any known definition. This was made by @/aestherians as a ‘fuck it you’re related and I don’t really know how but you’re worth mentioning’. It’s a ‘misc’ term, when you’re not sure if it’s a hearttype or something else but is important to your identity. It doesn’t always mean you’re questioning it, but it’s there. It’s new and does need to catch on, but it’s pretty handy.

ID: Short for ‘identity’ or ‘identify’. Occasionally used as shorthand. Be wary of someone who insists that an ID is ‘more you’ than a kintype. A kintype is an ID. So is a hearttype, or a linktype, or anything else. ‘ID’ is just an umbrella term that has been occasionally misused.

Kintype / Theriotype / Fictotype / Hearttype / Linktype: The noun versions of being otherkin, therianthrope, fictionkin, otherhearted, and otherlink/copinglink respectively. You are otherkin, you have a kintype, you are fictionkin, you have a fictotype, etc. If I catch you using ‘kins’ after this I will eat you.

Awakening / Questioning / Kinfirmation: A few terms to describe one’s journey through understanding their alterhumanity / otherkinity. Awakening is generally the moment you start feeling alterhuman or otherkin. For some of us, we’ve always been like this, for others, we just suddenly notice it. Questioning is whole journey from awakening to understanding and being sure of things. You’re never really done questioning, but when you’re happy with it, technically you’re done. Kinfirmation is a controversial term, sure. It’s otherkin + confirmation. Basically it means the opposite of awakening - the moment you’re sure, you’re done questioning, you’ve confirmed that this is a kintype. Awakening is how you start questioning, kinfirmation is how you finish. It’s controversial because it sounds stupid. But I like puns, so I’m keeping it. (You can slap ‘kin’ into any word and make it hilarious. That’s why I use a ‘kinformation’ tag. :p )

Banned / False Terms: kinning, kins, kinnies, etc - just don’t. Please, just don’t. This is how you make sure nobody takes you seriously and you get dismissed as a troll. ‘Kinning’ as a verb implies that otherkinity is a choice, which is prevalent and dangerous misinformation, and most of the community says burn it with fire - and for good reason. ‘Kins’ is just what people say when they don’t know the word ‘kintypes’, and implies you know very little about this. ‘Kinnies’ is a term made by antikin that’s quite controversial. On one hand, it’s hilarious to use to spit back at them, on the other hand it’s rude, on one foot like ‘kins’ it makes you look stupid, and on the other foot for a fair amount of folks it looks too much like ‘tr*nnies’ to give anything but a gut reaction of horror. (‘Kinnie’ is not a slur and does not hold the same societal weight, but as a gut reaction if you’ve had ‘tr*nny’ thrown at you, ‘kinnie’ isn’t going to make you feel all that great either.)

.

Part Two: A Few Methods That May or May Not Work To Questioning Kintypes and Related Alterhumanity.

So we’ve learned terms, and now there should be little confusion in what we’re talking about here. If you were expecting a step-by-step list, you will absolutely never get one, not from me or from anyone else.

Your journey through awakening, questioning, and ‘kinfirmation will be your own. It will be unique. You will never start in the same place as someone else, you will never finish in exactly the same way. The questions you ask will not be the questions I will ask. You do not need to justify it to me. You only need justify it to yourself. A second opinion always helps, sure, in case you missed something, but it’s not my job to tell you what you are. That’s yours.

So let’s take a look. At this point, one should hope you’ve awakened. It has occurred to you that you’re not quite human, you’re not quite what you physically are. You are aware that this is not a common experience. There are lots of things that could draw you to this. Homesickness is the big one. Memories, sometimes. Habits you shouldn’t have. Methods of thinking that don’t have a reason that makes sense. A feeling of belonging, of hiraeth. Your identity is not entirely your experiences in this life, this moment. Shifts are also a pretty big indicator. And so, so much more that I can’t possibly put a name to.

You know you’ve got Stuff going on here, but you don’t know what, it may be multiple things, it may be one thing. You said it may be multiple things, and fuck, it sure might be. It is for me, and lemme tell you, when those things like combining that makes it harder to sort them out. But you kind of have to, if you’re here and asking these questions.

You’re done questioning when you’re happy. You don’t need to know everything, and tbh you never will know everything. That’s okay. You just need to be happy with what you’re sure of. 

So you’re not entirely human, or you think you might be fictional. Shit happens. But you’ve got to figure out what you are, if you’re not that. For some of us, it’s obvious. For some, not so much. I’m the sort of ‘stare it in the face and not recognize it’ person, because I’m stupid, but that’s a way to do it. 

Your first step, of course, should be to take every sign you’ve got of this, every indicator that makes you think the craziest thing of all, ‘oh shit I’m not human’ / ‘oh shit I’m fictional’. Because kid, this isn’t a conclusion you immediately come to. Think about it, for a moment. If you’re actually here, with this conclusion in mind, there’s a reason you think that this is it. So gather all the reasons you’ve got, notice a few more and grab those too, and stick them in a box. Or write them down. Just put them somewhere and take a look at what you’ve got.

Now figure out if X habit here is related to Y homesickness of Z aesthetic, if that’s a Normal Human Thing or a Odd Alterhuman Thing. The lines will blur. You will have something that’s a Normal Human Thing, but in context is possibly an Odd Alterhuman Thing. Note that it’s both depending on perspective, and continue.

Try not to define stuff too much. Before you say you’ve got wings as supernumerary limbs - do you have wings, or just a weight on your back? Because those ‘wings’ might be wires, or a saddle, or gods know what else. Note that it’s a weight, check to see if it’s not a normal human thing medical issue, that you think it’s wings, what it feels like other than a weight, if it’s just there like clothes or if you can feel through it like your hands, and whatever else you’ve got.

You should probably figure out what you’re working with before you start putting it together. If you’re sorting by colour or by shape, essentially. Question things. Do you know it’s this because that’s just your first reaction, or do you know because that’s what it is and you’re not arguing the sky is blue? 

Do not, and I repeat, do not overkill it. Keep questioning to a quiet thing, if you must sit down and dedicate time, do not do more than an hour or two. Brains do confirmation bias. You’ll see shit that isn’t there, or make things up to fit the puzzle you think you just solved. When you do sit down to question, write down exactly how you got from point A to point D. Take some time away after, and revisit it, see if point C still holds up on its own.

Try not to question too little and assume things, try not to question too much and make yourself full of doubt. Some things just are, okay? You don’t have to convince yourself it’s not That, that you aren’t sure, that it can’t possibly be. Sometimes it’s just like That, and that’s okay. It’s all right to accept the impossible. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be here. If it wasn’t, you’d be dismissing me. Don’t take things at face value, but sometimes, what they are inside is exactly what it says on the tin.

This is going to be long, and great at times, and sucky at times, and downright confusing. If you turn to divination like tarot and pendulums, ensure they work before using them on this, and like all things, take with a grain of salt. Tarot that someone else does on you? Yeah, okay, it’ll work. Asking someone on the internet to use a pendulum for you? No. Do not. That is not going to give you a good answer on anything.

If you can do it for a different part of your identity, you can do it for this - as a decent rule of thumb. 

You may want to ask why you’re like this, if it’s spiritual or psychological or how it happened. Key word may. A lot of us do ask why, and sometimes find answers, but if you’re “Idk, I’m just an elf, don’t ask me,” then that is also completely fine! So long as you’re happy with that answer. 

Multiple kintypes can make questioning an utter nightmare. Tackle them one at a time, use elimination methods, check if X is a symptom of Y kintype or Z hearttype or gods know what else. Don’t be afraid to admit you don’t effin’ know, and deal with it later. You won’t get this overnight. You’ll be questioning for at least a month. Anything less and ehhh, you sure, buddy? You might be right, but under a month and you might’ve missed something critical - it just isn’t enough time to be absolutely sure. Like marrying someone, this takes time to understand and learn. Bad example, but it works.

You may be questioning for years. Happens to the best of us. My friend Gryph spent five years asking ‘is this a hearttype or a kintype’ and was only sure after I used the ‘#god i wish that were me versus #me’ comparison and it made enough sense that they figured it out on the spot. That was like, three years ago. It was actually kind of funny considering Gryph was like, twice my age at the time. 

Point is, this takes time, sometimes you just know, sometimes you really don’t. It’s weird, it’s unique, it’s personal, it’s an adventure and if you’re here you’ll probably be glad to go through it. Some of us are actually not happy with being otherkin, and would trade it away if they could. This is also normal. Not as well-spoken about, for obvious reasons, but it happens.

The key is introspection. It’s not divination, it’s not what someone else says - though that can help. It’s introspection. It’s about you, it’s what you are. It’s what’s right, what is true to your story. It’s a truth of the world, something you understand a split second before it defines itself, something that really just doesn’t give itself easily over to words.

There’s no step by step guide to otherkinity, to alterhumanity. Nobody could make one. But if you’re sure that this rings true, that this is the key to a part of you, then to you I say only two things.

Welcome to our subculture. I hope you find what you’re looking for.

Luteia 💚

[demisexualnathanvuornos]

Natalie Dupree (Emily Rose) Harry’s Law 2x11 Gorilla My Dreams (2012) 2/ 2

Jugde Lucas Kirkland: Guardianship of a gorilla? Are you serious? 

Mike Horace: A gorilla she stole. 

Harry Korn: She did not steal him. He escaped from a local zoo, he ventured onto her property, perhaps intuitively, since he - 

Judge: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. You are? 

Horace: I’m Mike Horace, Your Honor. I represent the Cincinnati Presbyterian Good Fellows Zoo. 

Judge: That’s a lot of names. 

Horace: Well, my client owns this animal,  and I would ask - 

Harry: That presumes the animal is capable of being owned. I would ask Your Honor to afford the gorilla the status of personhood for the sake of this proceeding. 

Judge: I’m is this a joke? 

Harry: Your Honor, I’ve looked into this creature’s eyes. Apes are a lot less inhuman than we would like to think. Our DNA and theirs is 98% a match. The gorilla we’re talking about today uses an iPad. He knows sign language. He thinks. He reasons. He communicates. 

Judge: Counsel, counsel has any court in this country granted personhood status to an ape? 

Harry: No. But other countries have. And here at home, the great ape protection act was reintroduced to congress in 2011. The day is coming, Your Honor. There’s a qualitative shift happening in the way we view the animal world, especially when it comes to apes. 

Tommy Jefferson: Your Honor, I, too, looked into the eyes of this beast, and I felt a kinship. How about you hear from our client, Natalie Dupree, who’s been living with this beast for the last month. 

Horace: Ms. Dupree does not have any standing to assert - 

Harry: She has foundation. She studied primatology in college, she’s been the primary caretaker of this gorilla. If we’re to consider the best interest of the ape, which I would submit we should, Natalie is uniquely qualified to bear witness on that. 

Horace: This woman committed a theft. And and we’re to reward her by giving her a day in court? 

Harry: This isn’t about her. It’s about the ape. 

Judge: All right. Where is this animal now?  

Harry: At my client’s farm.  

Judge: That’s not gonna fly. I’m gonna hear from your witness, but in the meantime, the gorilla goes back to the zoo. That’s all.

*** Natalie Dupree: [signing and English] It’s just going to be for a short time, Wentworth. Okay? We’re going to get you out. But you need to go back, just for a short time. Okay? 

Tommy: [trying to sign at the same time] Everything will be okay. It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna fight for you. We’re gonna fight. And everything’ll be okay.

***

Natalie: Well, I had just come home from work. I had some groceries in my hand, and I got this feeling, like I was being watched. And I looked over at the hedges and there were these big eyes sort of peering out at me. 

Tommy: Were you frightened? 

Natalie: Of course I was. There was a gorilla in the bushes. I was scared to death. 

Tommy: And then he came walking out at you? 

Natalie: Very tentatively. I could see that either he was afraid himself, or that he somehow was sensitive to my fear. That’s what I remember being struck by first, was his powers of perception, if not empathy. 

Tommy: So then what happened after he came out of the bushes?

Natalie: Well, he kept walking forward. And from his body language, I could tell that, like I said earlier, that somehow he sensed I was afraid. And so he took my hand, ever so gently, and he caressed my palm, like what he did with you and Harry. And then then he signed “Hello”. I think I gasped. This was this was like straight out of a Disney movie. 

Tommy: So Ms. Dupree, where did you think this ape had come from? 

Natalie: I’d seen the reports on the news about the zoo escape, so I knew that his name was Wentworth, that he was very docile. 

Tommy: Now I understand you brought along some video. 

Natalie: Yeah, I did. Just a little footage, just to give you an idea.  

Tommy: I’m going to roll it, and then you can tell us what we’re seeing.  

Natalie: Okay. So I brought him an iPad ‘cause I’d read the chimpanzees and orangutans were using them. And that’s what he did to the first one. But then, a day later he’s doing puzzles and finger painting. 

Judge: Ms. Dupree, you haven’t manipulated this footage in any way? 

Natalie: Judge, orangutans are using these things to video chat with other orangutans in different zoos. Oh, he likes opera. 

Judge: How smart, in human terms, would you say he is? 

Natalie: I would say he’s the equivalent to a two or three-year-old child. Oh, and I I probably should’ve edited this out, but it gives you a sense. He wasn’t toilet trained at the zoo, by the way. He learned that in two days. People magazine. 

Horace: You have reason to think he’s been mistreated at the zoo? 

Natalie: Yes. Yes, he’s the only gorilla there. 

Horace: That’s mistreatment? 

Natalie: In the wild, gorillas lead extremely social lives. They have friends, they have family. They love, they laugh, and they’re active. In your zoo, he sits alone all day and does nothing. 

Horace: But he could never be set free. He doesn’t have the skill set to survive in the wild. 

Natalie: Yeah, but there are sanctuaries, there are other zoos where there’s other gorillas. At least he’d have some sort of social and emotional life. I’m sorry, but it’s cruel to stick him in isolated captivity in Cincinnati Presbyterian. 

Horace: Because he can use an iPad? 

Natalie: No, because it’s inhumane. He has an IQ of almost 90. 

Horace: But where do we draw the line? Dogs, especially service dogs, have displayed extraordinary intelligence. Should we grant them personhood status? What about ducks? I’ve been told ducks are smart. You lease your property out to shoot ducks, right? Isn’t that how you first met Ms. Korn, and Mr. Jefferson? 

Natalie: Look, I’m not an animal activist. I eat meat, I wear leather and yes, yes, I make a little money leasing my land out to duck hunters. But this case is about great apes. They’re different. 

Horace: We use apes for biomedical research. Are you against that? 

Natalie: 100%. 

Horace: Children dying of leukemia this research could cure them. But you say, no, better the ape be happy. 

Natalie: Mr. Horace, if you want to make the argument that sacrificing an ape is worth saving a child, then go on ahead, but that’s not what we’re talking about, are we? We’re talking about the cruel and abusive treatment of sticking an intelligent being in a zoo and charging people admission for entertainment. And last time I checked, that did not cure leukemia. 

Horace: But it’s an animal, you’ve come into this court asking the court to treat him as a person. Now if we actually do that, what do we say to the next guy out there who happens to love dolphins?

Mike Horace: Look, uh, my client, too, loves this animal. And not just because people pay admission to see him. But he is an animal. To somehow call him a person, even for the sake of a legal proceeding why? Because, uh, he’s pretty smart? A lot of animals are. Dolphins, dogs. Because it feels emotions? Well, so do elephants. Elephants will mourn the loss of family members for years. Like it or not, we do practice speciesism. We eat animals because they taste good. We kill them for clothing, sometimes vanity. We use them for medical testing. We whip their behinds coming down the home stretch. We coop them up, and we own them. We own them. Under the law, these animals are considered property, under the law, this animal is the property of the Cincinnati Presbyterian Good Fellows Zoo. It’s as simple as that.

Harry Korn: Well, I’m glad you called it for what it is: speciesism. ‘Cause that’s what it is. Following Mr. Horace’s logic suppose a being from another planet showed up, IQ of 300, had the wherewithal to reverse climate change and told really funny jokes. I mean, he’d get no rights here ‘cause he’s nonhuman? We could just throw him in a zoo and charge admission? I don’t think that’s what any of us want. And yet, under Mr. Horace’s argument, the law is the law. Your Honor, the law evolves as we learn. Always has. I understand there’s a slippery slope problem. Today it’s a gorilla; next it’s a dolphin. Soon people will be trying to stop me from shooting a lousy duck. Which I look forward to. I like shooting ducks. I don’t know where we draw the line here. But if we have a being of real intelligence, capable of showing compassion, one that possesses self-awareness, has language skills, a being that lives a social and emotional life, I have no problem drawing the line there. And as I said at the beginning, I’ve looked into this gorilla’s eyes. I challenge anybody here to do the same and not see something a little human. But in the end, it’s not about the ape’s humanity, is it? It’s about ours. How do we, as a species capable of feeling and crying and caring, how do we lock up another being that This ape laughs. He learns. He reasons. He plays jokes. He grieves. He worries. And right now, he’s worried sick about having to stay at the Cincinnati Presbyterian Good Fellows Zoo. Judge Lucas Kirkland: I certainly agree with you, Miss Korn. The law is evolving on this, and we’re seeing the legal rights of animals expanded by the day. But the problem with granting actual personhood status is: what’s the test? Can’t be IQ. As we’ve seen, certain animals have more intelligence than some humans. Emotion? Well, how do you measure that? Maybe it’s the empathy chip. But most of our successful CEOs are missing that one. This is why speciesism has always been very pragmatic, at least from a a legal standpoint. I completely support, even cheer, the continued expansion of legal rights for animals, especially when it comes to the great apes. But looking at where the law stands today, animals, even the great apes, are considered property. And the property in question belongs to the zoo. The motion for legal guardianship is denied.

***

Zoologist: He’s been a little grumpy today. 

Natalie: Tell me about it. 

Tommy: Hey, where’s that tiger I shot at? You got him here? 

Harry: Would you get over the stupid tiger. 

Natalie: Hey, Wenty? 

Zoologist: Oh, he can sulk with the best of them. 

Natalie: Oh, yeah, I’ve seen it. Hey, Wenty.[signing] Will you come over here, please? Hey, stop being childish. I want to talk to you for a second. 

Tommy: Show him your ass, Harry, that’ll get him over. 

Harry: Show him yours. 

Natalie: Hey, honey. Hey. [signing] We’re gonna try to get you out of the zoo, okay? We tried very hard, and we’re gonna still try. But you just you have to live here just a little bit longer. 

Harry: [signs same?, points towards Natalie] What she said. Do you think he knows we’re really trying? 

Natalie: Wenty? Wenty?[signing] We’re gonna get you out somehow. All right? We’ll we’ll get you out. 

Harry: What was that? 

Natalie: He, um. [signing] I miss you, too.[/signing] I really think we should go home. I don’t want him to see me cry. Bye, Wenty. [signing] We’ll be back. Okay? I’ll be back.

[ink-splotch]

Okay, so, I'd love to read a little something by you set in a world where Lavender made it out of the Battle of Hogwarts. Maybe not okay, but alive?

Once upon a time, Lavender had wanted everyone to look at her. She had been the kind of kid who put on dramatic plays for her stuffed animals, for any visitors to the house, and for any neighbor or passersby she could snag from the front yard.

Dating Ron in sixth year had been fun, most of all because everyone had kept sneaking glances at her. She had heard her name in curious whispers and she had grinned and giggled into Parvati’s shoulder.

Everyone was looking now, or pretending not to. She heard the whispers– oh it’s that poor Brown girl. Can you imagine, if it was your daughter, if it was you? Oh and she was so pretty before, too–what a pity–almost makes it worse, doesn’t it?

–

“You know Professor Lupin was a werewolf?” Hermione said, ten minutes into a very awkward lunch she had asked for in an equally awkward letter.

Lavender pushed a sauteed carrot through a little puddle of pasta sauce. “I think everyone heard about that one. Someone told the papers, or something, right?”

“Er, yes,” said Hermione. “Snape did. Which is what I– I mean, it’s related. Oh, I wish you’d gotten to talk to Remus about this. He was a lovely man.”

“Not as lovely as Lockhart,” Lavender said and she and Hermione spent a moment in wistful remembrance. “God, I feel old,” Lavender said.

“Anyway, Snape,” said Hermione. “Snape and Lupin. When Lupin was at school, Snape would make him a potion that would… tame him, on full moons. He could just curl up in his office and sleep by the fire. If you’re interested, I’m trying to learn how to brew it myself.”

Lavender shook her head. “We’re not friends,” she said. “Never have been. So why are you doing all this?”

Hermione looked like she was trying to say “we’re friends,” but she couldn’t get it out. “I was there, once, when Lupin turned without the potion. I was so scared. I thought we were going to die.”

“Afraid I’ll sniff you out on a dark night?” Lavender said, face twisting as she sank back into her wicker chair.

“No, I–” Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, and all the hesitation was making Lavender more and more uncomfortable. Even at eleven, Hermione had bulldozed through things. She didn’t waver. “I was so scared, but I think it was even worse for him. It hurt, but he looked so scared, too, I–”

“I know how it feels,” said Lavender, very quietly, and Hermione snapped her mouth shut. Lavender took a big sip from her tea. It was still steaming– it had not taken long to exhaust small talk, between the two of them.

Hermione cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to make amends. I’m trying to– make things better. Do you want this?”

Lavender put her mug back down, shaking out scalded fingers, and said, “Yes.” Then, because her mother had raised her right, she said, “Thank you.”

“That sounds like a weird conversation,” said Parvati, whose door Lavender went and knocked on after she and Hermione had split the bill with the precise-to-the-Knut math of the vaguely acquainted and recently employed.

Lavender kicked through the fall of autumn leaves that had collected in front of the porch swing. “She was trying to be nice, I think.”

“She’s not very good at it,” said Parvati.

-

Her father wept. He tried not to but he was a crier, always had been.

“You were so brave,” said Lavender’s mother, cupping her cheeks in her warm hands and not even flinching at the scar tissue under her palms. “We are so proud.”

Lavender’s mother was a Muggleborn, daughter of a math teacher and a door-to-door salesman (“now there is a profession that requires some magic,” her grandfather used to tell her).

Her father was a wizard and he was trying hard not to cry, bending down to pet the dogs weaving between all their ankles. Lavender bent down, too, scratching behind Fiddlestick’s floppy ears while Mopsy cleaned her cheek forcefully. “Hey,” she said, and her father looked up, trying to firm his wobbly chin.

“You know I’m proud of you, too,” he said, trying not to tremble on it. “I just…” He reached out to squeeze her knee gently. “You did everything right. You did everything good. I’m so proud of you, chickadee.”

“I know,” she said, and she did. He was a Gryffindor, too.

-

It took Hermione more than a month to figure out the potion sufficiently well enough that she’d let Lavender try it. She was founding a non-profit for nonhuman rights, too, after all, as well as doing a fair few local speaking gigs, petitioning the Wizenagamot on a half dozen issues, getting an advanced degree, and supposedly, at some point, sleeping.

It took more than a month, so Lavender spent another night locked in her parents’ newly fortified cellar. She didn’t remember much, but she woke up with her throat sore and her nails ragged. The door was gouged from the inside. She wondered if she had been screaming. She wondered if that’s what the howls were. She felt like screaming, maybe, a little.

The door cracked open the moment the moon had dropped down below the horizon, outside. Her mother came in with a tray of her favorite breakfast foods– danishes and boiled eggs, steaming hot cocoa with the barest splash of bitter coffee in it.

Parvati came stomping down the stairs after her. “Graceful,” said Lavender. She winced at the roughness of her voice.

“Look who’s talking,” said Parvati. “Up, c'mon, eat your breakfast. We’re doing midnight manicures. Your dad says he’ll let us doll up his nails, too.”

The next full moon night, Lavender locked herself in the cellar again. “It should be safe,” Hermione had said. “It should. I mean, I’ve done all the tests. I followed all the instructions. It should work.”

Lavender didn’t remember, because she never remembered– she didn’t recall the cellar door unlocking and opening after ten minutes of post-moonrise silence. She didn’t recall Parvati Wingardium Leviosa-ing a comfy chair down the stairs, or her sitting down and pulling out a stack of Witch Weeklys, nor did she remember curling up on Parvati’s fuzzy button slippers and going to sleep.

But she did remember waking up in the morning, her cheek pressed into a soft pillow. She was tattered under a thick blanket, but she was human and looking upward at Parvati’s slack, sleeping face. Her dark plaits tumbled, curling, over the soft pink polka dots of her pajamas.

Lavender pulled herself up to sitting, stole the open Witch Weekly, and waited for Parvati to wake up.

-

“You’re going to be alright,” Professor Trelawney said and she wasn’t even looking at Lavender’s palm, just holding her hand tight in her cold fingers. “You’re going to be happy. You’re going to be fine. People are going to love you and stand by you and we will be there.”

The tower room was just the same as Lavender remembered it, down to the spicy-sweet tea and Trelawney’s big blinking eyes. Lavender squeezed her hands back. “I love you, too, professor.”

“You know, I think you can call me Sybil. It seems the time for it.”

–

Dean and Seamas’s housewarming for their ugly little first flat was a crowded mess, but the afterparty wasn’t. Lavender and Parvati came by with paint swatches, opinions, and hangover remedies. They ate greasy Chinese food on the floor, because it was about as comfortable as the couch.

They came back the next week, and the next. Parvati conjured a crackling fire in a big fruit bowl Dean’s mother had given him and they all sat around it like they were back at Gryffindor Tower’s hearths, procrastinating on homework.

On nights like that they sometimes talked about Hogwarts, but most of the time they didn’t. Dean had started drawing again and he walked them through his notebooks– his sisters, caricatures of the customers he dealt with in Ollivander’s wand shop, the snarky little comics he’d always scrawled in the edges of his notes. Parvati told them about the Auror trainees’ antics, going ut on their first field missions with their mentors. “All bravado and caffeine,” she said. “Bunch of show-offs.”

“So you fit in well, then?” Dean said.

“Nah, that’s Lav,” Parvati said. Dean and Seamas glanced warily at Lavender, but she just giggled and reached for another potsticker.

Seamas was considering going back to school. “Hermione’s been badgering me about it,” he said. “Says I have a talent for pyrotechnics, and there’s a whole major for fire magics at Brinxley.”

“What about you, Lav?” said Dean. “You still thinking about vet school?”

“What?”

“Oh, uh, that’s the Muggle word. Veterinarian– a medimagizoologist?”

“The schools aren’t too interested in a werewolf as a student,” Lavender said, shrugging.

“Not that that stops Hermione from showing up on the doorstep with half-penned anti-discrimination lawsuits she wants Lav to star in,” Parvati said.

“When does she sleep?” said Dean.

–

Little children asked about it in the street sometimes. “Mum, why’s her face like that?” “How come she’s walking all funny?”

Sometimes their parents turned to Lavender with eager bright eyes in the grocery store line, expecting her to answer. (“I got hurt, but I’m okay now.”) Sometimes they shushed their kids and gave her little apologetic half-smiles, glancing away from the raised lines of scar tissue. Sometimes they pulled their children closer to them and crossed to the other side of the street.

Harry Potter had a godson. Teddy Lupin was four the first time Lavender met him, just outside Gringotts. Teddy clung to Harry’s pants leg, peeking past his godfather’s hanging robe. “Why’d her face do that?” he said and Harry dropped a hand down into Teddy’s hair, which was bright green.

“She’s just like your dad,” said Harry.

“Puppy,” Teddy whispered, eyes wide with joy, and his skin shifted until scars stood out stark on his smiling chubby cheeks.

Lavender bit her lip and sank down to her knees in the street, holding out a hand. “Why aren’t you handsome, chickadee. What’s your name?”

–

Once, Lavender had wanted everyone to look at her.

She hated stories that told you to be careful what you wished for. Were you not supposed to want things? Was that the answer? She was nearly twenty two and she could make things fly with a few whispered words. She had lived through her seventh year at Hogwarts, had stepped out into that battle with her wand out and her eyes open. She had woken up–hurting, wounds tended, poison in her veins–to Parvati sleeping on Sybil’s shoulder at her bedside.

She had cried when they told her about the lycanthropy. She had cried over her bunny because a fox had gotten to it. Both times it had been with her face buried in Parvati’s shoulder and Parvati’s hands stroking her hair. She wished and she wanted– animals that never left you, bodies that never betrayed you.

Once, Lavender had wished that everyone would look at her, and now they were. Everyone was looking– so Lavender held Parvati’s hand in the grocery store at midnight, because they had both been craving green apples. Everyone was looking– so Lavender curled her hair and pinned it up, wore tank tops and little skirts on any day hot enough that she could get away with it, laughed aloud in public spaces. Everyone was looking– so Lavender knocked on Hermione Granger’s door one evening and asked, “What would it take to get me into magical vet school?”

Hermione had her bushy hair all tied back and a quill behind each ear. “A lot. There’s some statutes we’ve got to fight, and even if we can handle that you’ll still be under intense scrutiny for years.”

“I can work with that,” said Lavender, and Hermione grinned.

–

When Teddy marched down the aisle with the rings, his hair was a shimmering swirl of pink and purple to match the flowers woven into Parvati’s braids and Lavender’s curls.

The honeymoon would be short–a week in magical Paris in the townhouse of a Beauxbaton girl they’d befriended fourth year. Lavender had more medical textbooks packed into her luggage than anything else. Parvati’s bags were lined with half-finished reports that she’d owl to Auror headquarters from a rumpled Parisian morning, getting croissant crumbs in the bedsheets.

But for now the hall was filled with pink and purple blooms, white candles, familiar faces. Hermione stood in a violet bridesmaid’s dress, and Dean and Seamus in matching ties at Parvati and Lavender’s respective backs. Padma was luminescent with joy over Parvati’s shoulder. She had taken Lavender aside that morning for a short quiet walk in the mist and told her, “I know tonight’s what makes it official, but I’ve thought of you as my sister for years.”

When Lavender leaned forward and kissed her wife, her father burst into proud tears in the front row. He was a crier, always had been. Lavender buried her face in Parvati’s shoulder, smiling so hard she thought she might come apart. Her scars creased and puckered in her dimples, and she was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.