#what do I even tag this beast as it's just fantastic

[arthenaa]

Say Yes To Me - Ominis Gaunt x Reader

Plot Summary: After your eventful years at Hogwarts, you are now a famous magizoologist known by all. Life's great and all's well until you see Ominis Gaunt's engagement on the daily prophet.

Content Tags: that dilemma newt and tina had in fantastic beasts, yeah this is it but its you and ominis, ominis works at the ministry, mentions of ominis's older brother, gender neutral reader, sebastian being sebastian, slight angst if you squint, reader trying to keep their shit together, kiss kiss fall in love, idiots in love basically.

"Poppy! Can you please hand me the eye drops for the mooncalfs? I think I left it upstairs!"

You had yelled from your place within the Erumpent's mouth as you examined it's molars with your illuminated wand. This certainly wasn't a good position to look at, after all who would be putting their head inside a giant's mouth knowing it could very well decapitate you in seconds. However, this was the usual for you.

After graduating Hogwarts, your specialties and skills have led you to the magizoology field due to your affinity with beasts. It wasn't a big surprise to all considering you had always excelled in Beasts class and the questionable returns to the castle with a new beast curling in your arms. Professor Fig had often joked about which magical creature you'd be holding in your pocket for the day. He thinks it's absolutely comical whenever you did have one.

With your accomplishments and great efforts in defeating Ranrok, you had immediately garnered influence and reputation in magizoology, earning you the title of being the wizard world's most famous magizoologist. It certainly helped a lot with gaining access to various areas all over the world for you to rescue and release the beasts within your care.

Currently in your apartment in London, you busy yourself with a checkup on the beasts. Poppy Sweeting, a very old friend and your co-worker as well had been your partner since last year. The two of you lived together in the apartment and tended to the needs of the wondrous beings living in the magical depths of your basement.

You lift yourself from the creature's mouth, smiling as you gently caress it's horn. The Erumpent nudges your hand, unaware of its strength causing you to stumble back. "Easy Lola. Feels better doesn't it?"

It lets out a grunt before turning to do whatever it was originally doing. You let out a sigh as you turn to look up the stairs, waiting for the former Hufflepuff to come back with the eyedrops. "Poppy? Did you get lost or something?"

"Sorry! I just received today's newspaper." Poppy apologetically replies as she rushes down with the drops on her arms. She stops in front of you, a sympathetic look on her face.

"What's wrong?" You look at her, confused. She gives you the eyedrops with a sheepish smile. "You look worried."

"I— Well. It's fine," She nervously chuckles as she places the newspaper on the cluttered table behind you. "It's just the usual anyway."

You furrowed your eyebrows at her skittish behavior before shoving the eyedrops back to her arms and grabbing the newspaper from the table. Poppy tries to steal it back from you but you simply raise your hand and using your height advantage.

"I swear, Y/N. It's just the usual! You needn't concern yourself with it!" Poppy reasons as she tries to jump up and take the paper from your hands.

"You always read it out to me, I don't get what all the fuss is about if it's just the—" And there it was. Written in bold letters at the front page was a name you didn't even expect to reach the Daily Prophet. "... usual."

"I told you." Poppy sighs as she takes a step back. Your eyes were stuck on the front page, rereading the same set of letters printed on the paper.

Ominis Gaunt engaged to Eleanor Rosier. The Gaunts continue to rise.

Ominis Gaunt engaged to Eleanor Rosier.

Ominis Gaunt engaged.

You let out a shaky gasp as you hide your face with the newspaper. Poppy stares with a sad look on her face. Everyone knew of your trio. Wherever Sebastian was, everyone expected Ominis and you to be there. The three of you were stuck to the hip and it was like that for the rest of your years in Hogwarts. It was because of that fact that you'd fallen in love with one of them. Many suspected it to be Sebastian but it was in fact the blue eyed blonde that had your heart in his grasp. You had tried to hide it in your 6th year but failed because of Sebastian's meddling and so you had this weird situationship with him during your last year in Hogwarts. It was never established that you two were together but the fleeting touches and lingering glances were the reason you held on for so long.

Being a magizoologist meant that you needed to travel a lot. Mostly it was out of the country and that meant you rarely got the chance to see him after your graduation and so over time, you two had fallen out of communication. You hoped, hoped, that someday you'd be able to face him and that he would return the same feelings that he proclaimed back then in the safety of the Undercroft, your hands in his and a warm smile on his face but apparently, Merlin had other plans for you.

Poppy makes a move to comfort you but you suddenly pull away, looking at her with a crazed look. "No. No! Don't comfort me. I'd feel all the more pathetic."

"Eh, well. I've seen you in worse situations." Poppy smiles. You roll your eyes, mood gone sour as you toss the newspaper in the fireplace before pointing your wand at it and casting Incendio. Poppy looks between the fireplace and at your face. "I still needed that—"

You send her a glare to which she raises her hands up in defense. You grab the eyedrops from her and walk over to the mooncalfs who chirp at your presence. Blobs of liquid fall down the dropper as you give your undivided attention to the cute beasts in front of you.

Yeah. I'll just stay here and wallow in my misery. At least, I have my beasts with me.

"I can literally hear what you're thinking, Y/N." Poppy chuckles as she watches you tend to your creatures. "I won't let you lock yourself in here for 4 weeks."

"How'd you know it's going to last 4 weeks?" You reply as you turn to glance at her for a moment before going back to tending to the mooncalfs. "I've got a call for a Thunderbird in North America. I'd probably just bury myself in work... Forever."

"Do you really believe the news? You know Daily Prophet has a tendency to overexaggerate details. It's basically the whole point of journalism." Poppy shrugs as she plays with a loose thread on her coat. You let out a breath as you turn towards her with a deadpan look on your face.

"How can you exaggerate an engagement exactly? Tell me Poppy, I would like to be enlightened." You sarcastically reply as you finish the mooncalfs before moving on to the puffskeins. Poppy follows you, finding the situation amusing.

"I find it to be considerably suspicious. Didn't Ominis mention that he would be renouncing his own family? It's just so odd that out of nowhere he's engaged." Poppy reasons as you lift a puffskein in your arms, examining it's physique. Poppy moves to stand next to you, lightly petting the creature in your arms.

"Stop pulling ideas out of your arse, Poppy." You mumble. Poppy rolls her eyes before slapping your arm. You yelp in pain before gently putting the puffskein back with it's family.

"I'm just saying you really can't believe baseless stories unless you hear it from the source." Poppy leans on the fence surrounding the puffskein enclosure as she looks at you with a smile. You look back at her with a frustrated huff. "On the bright side, if it's true, then you'd get to finally move on!"

"Merlin help me or I will use an unforgivable on myself." You mutter as you bury your face in your hands. Poppy full on punches your arm causing you to groan. "Ow! Do it again and I'll fire you! For real, this time!"

"Yeah? Eat shit." Poppy snorts to which you flip her off. "You have no choice, you'll get to see him tomorrow anyway."

"Yeah..." You absentmindedly reply before your eyes widen in fear. "Huh? Tomorrow? What do you mean tomorrow?!"

"Don't tell me you forgot that you'd have to renew your wand permit and travel visa." Poppy chuckles. "I heard Ominis works in that department. Such a perfect timing, isn't it?"

You let out a horrified gasp as you crouch down on the floor. You'd rather let yourself be swallowed by a basilisk if it meant that you'd get to postpone seeing Ominis Gaunt (a bit of a overreaction but it doesn't matter).

"Can't you just do that for me?" You whine as you grab the bottoms of her coat. Poppy slaps it away.

"I can't renew your own wand, dumbass. I already did mine a week ago. You were too busy drinking away with Sebastian." Poppy pats your head as an apology before making her way back upstairs. "Wear your best perfume tomorrow, love! I'm sure he'll ditch Rosier for you."

Poppy winks before laughing. You glare at the Hufflepuff as she ascended up the stairs.

I can't do this. Fuck.

"You can do this, dumbass."

Sebastian grabs your shoulders, preventing you from leaving the building. It seems that the Sallow boy had taken on Poppy's role as your tormentor for the day and it doesn't help that he's an auror. Wand permits are a must and being deemed as an illegal wand owner is not really the best look for your reputation. You look back at Sebastian, giving him the best crup eyes you could muster.

"I will hurl you myself into that department if you do that again." Sebastian threatens with raised eyebrows to which you pout and frown. "I know why you're feeling so skittish today. Everyone's gossiping about it and it's not really the best thing to hear about your best friend. Talk to him. You, of all people, should know that."

You feel your body surrender to Sebastian's tough grip as he walks with you (more like drags) to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He places you in front of an office before turning you towards him as he fixes your tie and hair. You look up at him with sad eyes. "Is it too late to apparate out of here?"

"Wizards and witches can't apparate within ministry grounds. You'd have to go outside for that." He smiles brightly as he tucks a stray hair back to your hairstyle. He leans close to sniff you before furrowing his eyebrows in contemplation. "New perfume?"

"Ugh. It was Poppy's idea." You flush at Sebastian's discovery. The former Slytherin chuckles.

"He'd love that for sure." Sebastian winks.

"Shut up."

"You know he's just as whipped for you as you are for him, right?" He pats your arm before slipping his hands in the pockets of his coat. "You have nothing to worry about."

"Easy for you to say." You mumble. Sebastian's eyes crinkle as he smiles at your sulking behavior before it moves slightly to the side of your face, directed behind you.

"Sebastian." A voice you haven't heard in months was finally within your presence. You're almost too afraid to turn around but you're glad you did. Ominis had grown so well in your absence. The face once filled with soft curves had now developed more into a sharper and sculpted face. He seems more taller and leaner than before and absolutely looks dashing in his three piece suit. Your mouth falls open as you unashamedly check him out. ".... is that you, Y/N?"

You had almost forgotten to reply if it weren't for Sebastian hard nudge to your ribs. You yelp in pain, clutching your side as you glare at the man beside you. "O-Ominis, hey...."

The gorgeous man in front of you smiles nervously as he shifts in his position. "What brings you here? I've heard a lot about your travels. It seems you were quite busy these past few months."

"Y-yeah. Lot of creatures need saving, y'know?" You laugh awkwardly as you glance at Sebastian who looks like he's about to combust with how red he is from preventing his laughter.

Awkward silence engulfs the three of you and Sebastian had to calm himself down to prevent him from cracking up. "They're here for a renewal, both wand and visa. I don't want to chase a magizoologist all across the world just because they forgot basic wizard law."

"Haha, funny." You sarcastically reply. Sebastian winks at you before walking towards Ominis who leans close to whisper something to him. The blonde flushes and you can't help but wonder what the actual fuck did Sebastian say to him that got him coughing and blushing.

"I'll see you two later for lunch! Admin needs me." Sebastian waves before rushing off. This now leaves the two of you standing in the hallways of the ministry. You let out an awkward cough that alerts Ominis.

"Ah Right. Come in." He nervously opens the door to his office. You cautiously enter the room, marveling at the sight of his cozy office. Paraphernalia decorates the shelves on his walls with banners of his former house, Slytherin hung on one side of the wall. A plant is situated on one corner and an array of food is presented on one side. Comfortable chairs are positioned in front of his desk and a flashy name plate with the words 'Ominis Gaunt, Department of Magical Law Enforcement' engraved on it. What catches your eye though is a frame of you three on his desk. It was captured on your last day in Hogwarts. The picture moves as you three huddle for the picture, smiles on your faces before laughing at one another. It continues on a loop that puts a smile on your face.

"I have this on my desk too." You mumble softly as you lift the frame to admire it more. Ominis smiles before sitting behind his desk, putting his wand down and leaning back on the chair.

"Yeah. It's made quite differently for me." He extends his hand, palm facing up as he signals for you to give it to him. You place it on his hand and with a grab of his wand and a flick of his wrist, you suddenly hear sounds from the frame.

"Sebastian come closer!"

"I'm already close! Do you want me to fuse into you or something?"

"Can you guys shut up, he's taking the memento!"

Then laughter was heard. Ominis smiles at the audio before placing the frame back on his desk. "I play that whenever I miss you two."

You look at him as he fiddles with his wand, still reminiscing the memory. Whenever he misses me, huh? And Sebastian... Of course. Don't get too ahead of yourself.

"Listen Omini-"

"Y/N-"

The two of you began to speak at once and stopped altogether. A moment of silence is heard before you both laugh at the situation. "You go first." Ominis smiles with a nudge of his hand.

You look at him, remembering the details of his face as you decide that this is it. The moment you'll let go of him. It shouldn't be a surprise to you that Ominis would get married soon. He came from a family known for keeping their blood pure and while you hoped that he'd escape the grasps of his wretched bloodline, it seems like even he would not be able to and so as a good friend of his, you'll just try to be happy for his sake.

"Listen, I came here not just because I needed to renew my visa and permit. I just really wanted to tell you that I'm happy for you." You bite your lip, distracting yourself with the physical pain rather than the emotional one. Too invested in thinking of what to say, you fail to notice Ominis's face drop at your words. "I-I know it's hard but I want you to know that I'll always be here. Me and Sebastian. I'll support you and--"

"Wait! No!" Ominis abruptly stops your speech which you were grateful for because if you continued any further, you fear that you'd end up bawling in front of him. "I-I don't want you to be happy."

"Huh?"

"I mean-- I don't want you to be happy that I'm happy because it's not happy at all. But for you, I'm happy--" Ominis fumbles with his words as he grips the fabric of his pants on his knees. "It doesn't make sense but you know what I'm talking about."

Your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek before letting out a confused laugh. "... I actually don't know what you're talking about."

"I should be the one saying that to you." He whispers as he leans forward to rest his face in his hands before taking a deep breathe and exhaling. "I-I heard that you were seeing people and I just- I just wanted to congratulate you."

Seeing people? What in Merlin's name?

"Ominis." You blink in confusion. "Who told you this?"

"Uh... Sebastian?" He mumbles quietly as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

"I'm not seeing anyone, Ominis. Did you really let yourself be fooled by Sebastian, again?" You giggle as you watch his expression change from nervous to annoyed.

"That bloody fool always read me news about you. I can't believe he faked me out on this one. Of all things!" He groans in frustration. "I'll skin that boy."

"Please don't. Merlin knows we'll need him as a scapegoat for something in the future." You joke. He laughs at your jest and you almost let yourself fall all over again. "Aside that, I'm really happy for your engagement."

A confused look is back on his face again before a dreaded look appears on his face. This is the most expressive you've seen Ominis ever since he caught you sneaking out of the Undercroft. "Gods Y/N. I'm not engaged. I-It's my older brother who's going to be engaged to Eleanor. We both have similar names and the Daily Prophet assumed that it's me. I've already sent a report regarding that."

You have never felt more relieved in your life. You bury your face in your palms. "God, I thought I was about to die. I had almost tried to bury myself in work for 4 weeks because of that."

"Why?" Ominis stands up from his seat as he feels his way around and eventually kneels down in front of your seat. "Why would you want to do that?"

You remove your face from your palms before cupping his cheeks. "I admit I have made myself scarce these past few months but I have-- I still am hoping that you... you..."

You couldn't bring yourself to finish as you stare at his face that looked so full of hope and so you did the only thing you knew that would communicate the words you couldn't tell him.

"Y/N?" He softly speaks your name before you pull his face to yours and pressing your lips to his. Ominis had frozen in shock but eventually recovered as he pressed himself closer to yours. His arm encases your waist while the other cups your cheek. Lips move against one another as thousands of unspoken words flow through the air. The two of you release one another with a final peck before a smile graces your faces.

"I'm still hoping that you're in love with me." You finish as your index finger gently caresses the beauty marks that grace his skin. He closes his eyes at the feel of your touch before grabbing hand to kiss the inside of your wrist.

"Yes. Yes I am." He answers with no hesitation. You smile at his confession before pulling him in a tight hug. He releases you after a short while, hands cupping your face as he continues to leave chaste kisses all over it. You giggle at his affections. "I wasn't able to ask you back then but will you be mine? Merlin knows how long I've wanted to ask you this."

He has a hopeful look on his face that makes you want to coo and baby him but all you do is smile and peck his lips. "Of course. I'd always say yes to you."

The two of you smile and bask in each others presence before you're reminded of his face flushing earlier. "By the way, what did Sebastian say to you awhile ago?"

Ominis's face flushes before intertwining your fingers. "He told me to make the most out of your stay."

You let out an amused chuckle. Sebastian that sneaky motherfucker.

Before you could tease him about it, Ominis grabs your hips and pulls you in close. "Think Sebastian will mind waiting for a while? I'd like to heed his advice for once."

You chuckle before biting your lip as he pulls you up, grabbing your thighs and carrying you to his desk. You wrap your arms around his neck as he brushes his lips against yours.

"Go ahead, I don't think he will."

A/N: i also want to makeout w him in his office good lord. anys tysm for supporting my workss. i love writing for my two idiots <3

[blasphemousclaw]

thank you for being so normal about the hornsent 🙏 Thank you cause jesus christ. anyways for the ask ermm The hornsent npc melina or messmer

you’re welcome I just got so attached to the hornsent while playing the dlc! after watching Belurat burn in the story trailer, going into the ruined city in the game and seeing all the graves and mourning spirits really affected me, and I’m honestly shocked that such a huge portion of the fanbase didn’t feel the same way. also they are literally so cool like look at their art and architecture. their armor sets. their divine beast dancing lion. if people can’t enjoy that because they’re “evil” well I have great news. they are not real

anyway here’s capital H Hornsent my best friend Hornsent

• favorite thing about them

how his quest ends with him attacking us no matter what we do. I know I know! it’s so frustrating that we can’t convince him we’re on his side! but the fact that he tries so hard to push us away just makes me love him more! he refuses our second offering of scorpion stew because he isn’t here to make friends, he’s here to win he’s given his life for his revenge... his line “I wish not to friendship kindle” drives me crazy because we have this moment of human connection with him, which he acknowledges, but he can’t let himself lose sight of his purpose! admit it Hornsent. you like me

also his character design and voice acting are fantastic

• least favorite thing about them

I already like how his character is handled but I think it would be even stronger if he or someone else dropped a few more details about life in Belurat before the crusade. he enacts his revenge not just in the name of his murdered family but his entire culture, and it would be nice to learn a few more hornsent cultural details through him!

• favorite line

“What’s this? Do you think me in need of alms? Ah… but this dish. Tis fare o’ the tower. I remember fondly this kin-clad scent. …Brings back memories I’d all but forgot. This, by my troth, is but a dismal copy. Indeed, I think it rather plain to see… things once broken can never be the same.”

I love the scorpion stew interaction so much! “things once broken can never be the same” hits so hard after exploring Belurat and seeing the city’s destruction, and pairing this dialogue with the scorpion stew description is even more tragic: “Traditional meal of the hornsent. Once made with love by a certain elderly woman for the family table.”

• brOTP ОТР whatever this is

Hornsent and Tarnished. what if I could fix him

• nОТР

I don’t think about this at all

• random headcanon

the marks on his face are burn scars from the fires… I think he had hair but it mostly burned off. maybe I’ll draw what I think his face looked like without the limitations of the npc character model sometime

• unpopular opinion

I don’t think he was a greater potentate! I think it’s strongly implied that he lived in Belurat before the crusade, not Bonny Village. I think he sought out the potentates’ caterpillar mask because it’s used to enhance focus and banish feelings of doubt in one’s purpose, which makes perfect sense for his revenge quest

• song i associate with them

once again please leave any suggestions in the replies/tags!!

• favorite picture of them

not to boost my own content but this was hysterical

[orbitariums]

warmth | art donaldson + patrick zweig + black fem reader (a snippet)

full length part 1 here!

i miss posting on here real bad and i keep teasing things (christopher moltisanti, richie jerimovich) and not actually writing/releasing them SO i'm putting this snippet of this oneshot i'm writing to encourage myself to actually put this out.

i think this will probably have multiple parts because the tension needs to builddd. and please, let me know y'alls thoughts!!! what do you think, what do you predict is gonna happen, r u thirsting adequately, etc. i love hearing your little comments <333

& let me know if you’d wanna be tagged when this comes out

essentially: reader, patrick and art were childhood best friends who conveniently were all in love with each other, or at least had enough sexual tension to make it feel that way. fast forward almost a decade later, and reader has made it onto the red carpet with her fantastic pen, and patrick and art have gone pro. when she invites them to her house for a star-studded friendsgiving, tensions rise and old doors open, springing forth new possibilities. this is only the beginning.

✮ �� ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

warmth

“We should just turn around now, save ourselves the embarrassment.”

Patrick paid Art no mind, rolling down the window and leaning out of it, pressing the buzzer as you had dutifully instructed them in your email invite. 

“Too late now. Already threw away about a gallon of gas just coming up the hill to this place,” he replied, the sense of ease in his voice only egging Art on even more. 

“Exactly why we should leave. I mean, fuck. Does she have to live on a hill?”

“Residence of [last name], to whom am I speaking?” a male voice rings on the other end. 

“Uh…” Patrick starts, Art reaching up over him, 

“Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?”

A silence filled the air. Patrick swatted at Art, forcing him back in his seat. 

“Why’d you say it like a question, dumbass?”

Art stammered, already starting to get red in the face,

“I was --”

The gate swung open and both the boys let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you!” Patrick chimed, smirking at Art, who seemed to be sinking in his seat. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Meanwhile, you were inside the mansion that you call home, flowing around the kitchen like there weren’t about fifty people milling about and mingling amongst one another. It smelled like something out of Hansel and Gretel -- from the fragrant brown roasted turkey sitting in the oven, to the gourmand scent of perfectly caramelized candied yams, to the vanilla musk perfume you dotted on your wrists. A black mini Schnauzer nipped excitedly at your feet as you added half a cherry tomato to the giant bowl of salad you’ve been prepping for the last twenty minutes. You look like a pro, like a party of this magnitude is no big deal to you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Do we ring the doorbell? Or maybe… should we knock?” Art questioned, hands tied behind his back as he glanced up at Patrick for answers. 

“It’s open,” Patrick retorted, but he too stood stupefied at the door, like a weary traveler wavering in horrific awe before the mouth of some epic beast. 

“On three?” Art suggested, and when he didn’t hear a response, he started to count, “one… two…”

Patrick stepped in before Art could get to three. Art scoffed, but followed behind him anyway. 

The two of them stood there silently, taking the grandiosity of it all in — the sky-high dome ceiling, two grand wooden staircases directly opposite one another, the shiny verdant porcelain flooring, the Basquiat painting hanging above the wide bookcase directly in front of them. Mouths open, they looked like they were ready to catch flies. 

“Fuuuck me,” Patrick breathed out heavily. Art’s head was stuck staring up at the ceiling, so high he thought it’d never end. 

“You made it.”

Both Art and Patrick seemed to stand straight at the sound of your voice, like soldiers at attention. You almost laughed, but instead you stood there coolly, smiling at them both with your lips and your eyes— in them, a look that was almost knowing, wise beyond your years. It seemed like a lifetime before either of them would speak. They spent half that lifetime practically gawking at you, drinking you in. And how could they not, when you were draped in that cream-colored silk dress, the flowy bottom dancing above your ankles. You looked more beautiful than they remembered you, calmer, secure — of course, they hadn’t seen you since they were teenagers. Now there was this air of timelessness about you that was only just poking at the surface when you were in high school. Now it surrounded you. Something mystic encompassed your entire spirit, dripping from your head to your feet. They’d spent years seeing you from behind a screen, being interviewed on live TV, attending red carpets for award shows, blending in with the Hollywood mecca — another beautiful twenty-something industry talent. But the glow of the television that seemed to give everyone a perfectly filtered sheen was nothing compared to your beauty here. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Patrick broke the silence first, practically lurching forward with open arms to embrace you. His beard scratched against your cheek. You could smell the cologne that was beginning to wear off, mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. His arms nearly suffocated you.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he smiled at you so fervently. 

“Good to see you too, Patrick…” you glanced over at the mousy boy who didn’t seem to have changed much since high school. “C’mere, Artie.”

Art chuckled: a nervous huff of relief, inching forward into your open arms and nuzzling his chin into your shoulder, closing his arms around your midwaist. You could smell the aftershave that still clung to his face, and the detergent still fresh from his clothes. 

You pulled away, but took one of each of their hands, squeezing. 

“My two boys. Man, how long has it been?”

“Oh, just a while—”

“Seven years,” Art interjected. 

“Who’s counting, right?” Patrick grinned, making all of you laugh. 

You looked at them almost expectantly, eyes wide like a doe, the slightest smile playing at your lips. They looked back with bated breaths. Always, you were in charge, always. It had been like this since the scabby-kneed days of childhood. If you wanted to play on the swings, they were there on either side of you. You were the queen of the sandbox. In middle school, they snuck extra cookies for you from the lunchroom and fought over who got to surprise you with the treat every day. Senior year of high school, in the hotel room in London, when you had them perched on either side of you like baby birds waiting for mother’s return— when you had both your hands on each of their thighs, had them panting like puppy dogs, inching your hands further and further only to leave the minute you heard “lights out.�� 

It had been seven years since then and still, it was the same. Only this time, you were stupidly rich, thanks to the soaring success of your two psychological thriller books turned TV series. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about them, or didn’t care about them now that you were rich and famous. You’d gotten accepted to study creative writing at Brown, Art went to play at Stanford, and Patrick went on his path to go pro. You were delighted to see that they were only a click away thanks to the internet, just one click away from being reintegrated into your life. Your childhood best friends. 

“C’mon, lunch is almost ready.”

Friendsgiving. Who didn’t love the concept? It was a readily welcomed, wholesome idea — friends of all ages and backgrounds coming together to rehash their Thanksgiving with leftovers, stories from the year, and maybe a game of cards. Except your friendsgiving was attended by A-list actresses, Cannes festival attending screenwriters, and the odd Grammy-nominated artist. And your friendsgiving was not at all an intimate affair — it may as well have been a club party. Most people were outside, dancing, shrieking with laughter, drinking, and skipping their way to their seats. Your backyard was vast and verdant green, with a pool in the center, the perimeter lined with lemon and peach trees, and miles to explore. 

“This is fucking insane, is that Dakota Johnson?” Patrick scoffed. He and Patrick had been left to their own devices yet again, while you flitted around being the hostess with the mostest, easing and gliding about. A laugh here, a clink of glasses there, and a coolness to you that stood in striking comparison with the warmth that stirred deep down inside you. A warmth that could be served with a ladle into goblets, like some elixir with magical properties only you possessed. 

“No, you idiot, that’s— oh shit. That might be Dakota Johnson.” 

Clink clink clink. 

“Everybody, hi, hi! Thank you for coming, please, sit down,” you called out, clinking your glass to get the attention of your guests. Patrick and Art scrambled to find seats, ending up at a table with people who might have been minor celebrities or art critiques or designers -- at least one of those options. 

“I wanna thank you all so much for coming, this really means a lot to me. I know these sorts of things can be really hectic, but you guys make this house feel like a home. I’m glad that some of you will be staying with me for the next few days, there’s always room for more,” you glanced over at Art and Patrick. “Some of you are new friends, some of you I’ve known for far too long. But I think it’s incredibly fucking cool that we’re all here together now in this moment, just enjoying each other’s presence. I do this every year, and every year I meet even more amazing, talented, fascinating people and you all are so dear to my heart. And now, what we’re all waiting for… lunch is served!”

A cacophony of cheers rang out as staff rushed about to place plates in front of everyone. You stood giggling, basking in all of it. Patrick and Art couldn't help but watch on with deeply impressed smiles — you were meant to bask: in glory, in pleasure, in everything. You looked just right standing where you were.

The rest of the afternoon Patrick and Art spent attempting to blend in as best they could. They were pro tennis players, but this was another level of stardom that they couldn’t quite fathom yet. They watched you ruthlessly the entire night, unable to squash those rising feelings of attraction and yearning for you that had never quite simmered to begin with. You’d always been cooler than them, but watching you now there was a certain air to you that belonged to a grown woman, someone comfortable and confident and in their element. You were positively swimming in the sunlight the entire afternoon. It was like you had this sort of magnetic pull to all things good, rich, and warm. People wanted to be around you. And god, did this prove that. 

By night time, people were finally starting to leave. The sun hung low in the darkening sky, making the fairy lights glow stronger now. The few people that were staying with you for the rest of Thanksgiving weekend had disappeared to their rooms. Besides the waitstaff still milling about, clearing the tables, it was just you, Patrick, and Art. The two of them hadn’t meant to stay so long, really. It wasn’t like they were forcing themselves to stick around and be acknowledged by you in a way that felt meaningful. Sure, you’d had your small talk and cracked a few inside jokes, but as much as neither wanted to admit it, they needed more. If it was hard to get your attention before, it was nearly impossible now. They were surrounded by so many people who all wanted to network and talk and introduce themselves, they found themselves mingling with your friends, some of them people who they’d seen on screen in the past year,  more than you. They’d been dragged onto the dance floor multiple times by multiple acquaintances, only to gawk at you swaying your hips rather than actually dance themselves. It became overwhelmingly clear, in their increasingly present desperation, that they should’ve accepted your offer to stay in this castle of a house for the weekend. Neither of them had packed a bag. 

“This is awkward, we’re the only ones left,” Art sighed, still sitting at their table. 

“Let’s just… wait, okay? She might come back out."

"And give us a little speech?"

"Yeah, asshole, maybe she will."

At that very moment, you appeared again, this time clad in a two piece linen pajama set. You didn’t miss the way both their eyes trailed up your legs as you stood in front of them, arms crossed, smiling expectantly. 

“I was hoping you two would still be here,” you said. You glanced between the two of them, that awkward silence filling the air once again. “C’mon. Let’s talk.”

You turned and walked back inside, the two of them trailing behind you.

"Your house is fucking sick by the way. I mean holy shit," Art blurted once you got to the main entrance hall.

"Feel like I just walked into a page of Architectural Digest," Patrick added on.

You led them up the stairs. Both their eyes dropped to your ass, which poked out just a bit from under the pair of shorts you wore. Silently watching the way your body curved as you walked.

"Ha, thanks. I think I did pretty okay for myself," you replied.

You led them to the den on the second floor and sat criss cross apple sauce on the lush green couch. Art sat on your left, Patrick on your right. Patrick spread his legs and Art had one foot up on the couch, bouncing against his knee. 

“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much. I was so busy being the host of the year that I didn’t pay enough attention to you two. My favorites.”

Art chuckled,

“Favorites? You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious! D’you know how much I missed you guys?”

Patrick scoffed playfully,

“All those TV interviews I watched of you? I wouldn’t even be thinking about us.”

You couldn’t help but grin, that warmth coming through once again. It nearly made the two men melt. 

“Well I was. I always think about you guys.”

Now came Patrick’s voice again, a heaviness to it that almost made you jump,

“Do you think about anything specific?”

Although it had been nearly a decade since you’d last seen each other, you didn’t miss a single thing about either of them. Patrick didn’t mince words, and he never shied away from not just hinting at, but blaring his salacious intentions every time he spoke. You tilted your head towards him, a cool smile tugging at your lips. 

“Just what good times we had.”

A silence, accented with a flood of nostalgia and a pointed reference to those “good times” permeated the air. You took a moment to gaze at the two of them ever so softly — enough for them to feel it, but not enough to make them squirm (though, they were easy to make squirm) — before you decimated the silence by slapping your hands down on either of their thighs and squeezing endearingly. 

“So tell me, where’ve you two been? I’m not the only one on TV these days.”

“Ahh, you don’t wanna hear about boring tennis,” Art waved a hand of dismissal. 

You chortled, a trademark of yours that Art and Patrick had always poked fun at in school,

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“You still laugh the same,” Patrick said, grinning like he was trying not to but was unable.

You chuckled, this time low in your throat, and turned your head to face him again. You and Patrick were similar in the sense that you were always pushing the boundaries, tiptoeing closer and closer to the line — but the three of you had never quite established where that was. At some point, you were all just too close to even think about “the line” or “boundaries” — all of you appeared clueless to societal expectations of friendship, spurting a sort of cultlike relationship where everyone else was an outsider. 

“Do I?” smiling at him like you were warning him not to tease. 

“Yeah, that little snort you do,” Patrick replied, unshaken. 

“You do do a little snort,” Art chimed in, always chirping like he spoke from a less nefarious place. 

“And if I get started on you guys’ little tennis grunts?” you grinned fully now, showing teeth, looking between the two of them and leaning back a bit.

They followed, leaning back against the couch and keeping their heads in line with yours so you were never too far away from them, each of them turning their heads to look at you. 

“No way you actually watch us,” Art replied.

“I do!” you insisted. “Seriously, if you’d asked anybody here you would know.”

“Sure, let me just strike up conversation with George Clooney,” Art shot back.

“Ha-ha,” you bleated sarcastically. “I don’t even know him… but I have walked past him once on the carpet.”

“Look at you,” Patrick smirked. “Little Miss Superstar.”

He punctuated his sentence with a hand on your knee. Your eyes flickered over to him and you caught the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed, felt the way he gazed up at you. You didn’t miss the desire twinkling in his eyes. 

Then Art, always second but not necessarily last, 

“She’s our little superstar, you know that, right?” 

His hand just gently grazing your shoulder.

You let them revel in the moment for as long as you felt appropriate, then huffed.

“You know you guys can stay for the weekend, right? I mean, you should.”

“Oh… no, we wouldn’t wanna impose,” Patrick said, his hand slinking away from your knee.

Another chortle from you, this time the kind that said everything about how you lived in comparison to them,

“You wouldn’t be. This is a five bedroom house. It’s fine. Besides, don’t you guys wanna actually catch up? I’ll let you torture me with tennis talk.”

Art started to stammer,

“I-I mean… we didn’t bring anything.”

“Just our idiot selves,” Patrick added.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get Charles to get you guys all set up.”

“Charles?”

“Oh, he’s my assistant,” you said nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. “You’re not fighting me on this. I want to spend some quality time with my boys. Don’t make me have to beg for it.”

“We could never make you beg for anything,” Art replied, just a little too quickly. 

“I know, Art, that’s why I love you,” you grinned over at him. “So, are we all in agreement? Stay with me. Just this weekend.”

“Yes,” they both replied a little too quickly this time. 

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. 

“You know… I really, really missed you guys. And those good times we had.”

You let the memory of that night of almosts in London resurge, let their minds run amuck with whatever teenage fantasy was still left over from that night. A moment so brief it could almost be forgotten, could even be flagged as incidental, accidental, but the three of you knew, even as grown adults (especially as grown adults), that it would always stick and remain unresolved, unless someone ran to the rescue with some sort of solution. Once again they held their breaths. You stood up, glanced between the two of them like you were sizing them up, and then smiled as if nothing had happened at all — you let them breath. 

“Your bedroom’s the second on the right when you leave here. Charles will help you get set up— I’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast.”

And just like that, you were gone. The air in the room seemed to clear. Your presence was like a thousand tons of pressure weighing on their bodies and their minds. Finally, they could breathe.

They glanced at each other with the same longing, almost nervous expression — high school all over again.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

eek let me know what y'all thought. i wanna finish it by this week <3

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/663370772509802496/do-you-know-what-the-origin-of-the-sold-to-one

So I was looking at this old post of yours (in your fandom meta tag) and has anyone else noticed that Hogwarts AU fanfic and meta about if this or that character from another fandom would be Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw has completely disappeared? I assume that this is related to JKR’s transphobia making her (understandably) persona non grata to a lot of online queer people of the kind who dominate fanfic fandom at least on AO3 (I’m less familiar with Wattpad or other corners of fandom that are overwhelmingly cishet and writing het, and the Bridgerton drama has taught me a lot about just how out of pace a lot of them are with even elementary queer stuff, yeesh). but I was wondering if others have noticed that. It did seem to really start to crater around 2019-20 when she stopped being coy and blaming it on “middle aged moments,” and started openly making transphobic tweets and writing essays about it rather than just “liking” others’. Like when I was into Yuri on Ice circa 2016-18, it was still all over that fandom, even though people were already souring on the actual official franchise stuff such as those terrible Fantastic Beasts movies.

So I’m mostly active in anime, JRPG and Western genre TV fandoms so I was curious if this was also happening elsewhere. I’m also wondering if the fact that actual HP fandom seems to be increasingly divorced from canon (like fanon pairings of characters who never interacted in canon being the most popular lately) is related to this too.

Cuz having a Hogwarts AU used to be a sign that a fandom had Arrived. I remember in 2016 you saw people doing house sortings for the people on the frickin 538 political podcast. Now I never see any of that even with huge fandoms.

It’s interesting to me given that it feels like her transphobia hasn’t dented much of her popularity with non online nerd culture. Like the third Fantastic Beasts movie failed but those had never been good and had been declining in box office numbers already. But the Hogwarts Legacy game sold really well. You still see HP in stores all over the place with other nerd culture staples like Star Wars and Marvel. Still constantly see brands doing collabs. I often find non online friends and family, including many who are genuine allies to the trans people in their lives, who have no idea about her transphobia. Or they’ve only heard a little and assume it’s some weird insular online culture thing that is just fans nitpicking, maybe having heard about some other Twitter “canceling” over nothing and figuring it’s like that. They’re always shocked and horrified when I tell them what she’s actually saying and doing.

--

Interesting question.

For me, as an Old, it just feels like Hogwarts AUs are part of my childhood, and why wouldn't they be less common now? But realistically, if they actually are declining, it does mean something.

There's no way for us to know if the "Would X be a Hufflepuff?" posts are really a thing of the past. That could be a question of whom one follows or of fans leaving one's platform. But we can at least poke at some AO3 tags and see if they show a pattern.

The relevant tags are Alternate Universe - Hogwarts and its metatag Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting.

There are 21,426 works in the metatag. Obviously, not everything uses the tag, but it's a starting point. (Some cursory playing with filters on big tags makes me think that maybe around 3/4 of HP AUs are actually tagged with a relevant AU tag.)

If we look at the AU tag itself, the numbers have come down in the last few years. (This year is obviously only half over, so we'd expect those numbers to be smaller.)

But we have to take into account how big the archive itself was. It's been growing significantly since it opened to staff accounts in late 2008 and then more widely in late 2009, so the overall rise doesn't mean much, but the recent drop might.

It does seem like there's a downward trend lately, but it doesn't look like it's falling off a cliff.

[euphoric-dramione]

January Dramione fanfic wrap-up *with links*

FULL-LENGTH:

Waifs and Strays by kyonomiko: very cute fluffy fic where draco is a cutiepie pine marten.

& Obey, Till Death Do Us Part by LongtimeLurker1111: his could’ve been a dark romance, but instead hermione decided to stay with “phin” theo and i just don’t understand it. the worst part wasn’t rapist draco bc he was the bad guy, it was rapist “phin” theo who was supposed to be good smut was nice at first.

Brand New World by NinaBinaBallerina: i loved loooved the beggining of this fic. then after they graduated and she found out she was pregnant i kinda lost the plot. i read until the point draco wanted her to move in with him while he was married to astoria and then i just skimmed until the epilogue.

In Silence And Submission by gillianeliza: this was a cool smutty bdsm fic, it had some nice things but i just think the writing was kinda wonky? nevertheless, very much enjoyed reading this.

The Fever by Flightglow32: this was supposed to be a smutty novelette but the smut happens in the very last chapter and only last five pages and we skim through the smut scenes like we’re a train on schedule and i just don’t understand why? especially because the fic was so sexual in its themes so why was the smut so lackluster??

Draconian by Noelle: It was like a really fluffy wartime with not-so big stakes, at first i thought how stragely whiny and crying hermione was all the time, but then we started to slowly find out what happened to her. I didn’t feel very much towards this story but it was entertaining and very readable.

Uncoffined by lady_of_clunn: it was nice, but due to the dubious ethics i’m quite conflicted of how i’m supposed to feel.

Damaged Goods by slytherin_after_dark: look, i know i had dnfed this when i had read only like one or two chapters, but lemme tell you how much i loed this fic when i picked it back up! it was all i needed - spicy, entertaining, angsty, with toxic but possessive and loving draco. although hermione felt ooc, it didn’t dim the reading experience.

The Politician's Wife by pir8fancier: this was so realistic, the romance was subtle but powerful, the little bit of smut we got was fantastic. also, it was incredibly well-written.

Seasons Pass (To This Ass) by mighbewriting: didn’t love it, but it was short, so i read it in one night. the smut was realistic as in how sex works but it wasn’t great smut if you know what i mean. loved draco’s quidditch player physique.

More Than One Way To Win by scullymurphy: i loooved the fake dating in this one, it was short but had all the scenes, i really liked it, although i wish there was more plot for after they got into an actual relationship.

Safe Home by khakis: cute kinda short kinda omegaverse story with draco as a werewolf but the werewolf part doesn’t play a huge part.

Breed by RoseDeVents: sooo muuuch breeeding.

The Curse of Malfoy Manor by alwaysaclaw11: a nice retelling of beauty and the beast, but it didn't leave a lasting impact on me.

Our Girl by geoblock: hands down the best smut i’ve ever read, and it's hermione x draco x theo x BLAISE

Innocent Monsters by itscometothis: very fluffy, but then draco gets depressed and a lot of attention is paid to his depression which i don’t mind, but it was a bit triggering. so not extremely fluffy, even though on of the tags was “tooth-rotting fluff”.

ONE-SHOTS:

Belladona by NinaBinaBallerina

(What’s a kink?) Between Friends by morriganmercy

Bond by spicyxpisces

Tell Me by GardenAtTwilight

Keep Me Safe by Skyfire2459

Perfect by CaityBell

Fourteen Days by its_banannaz

Marked as Mine by LilithShade

WORKS IN-PROGRESS:

Let The Dark In by senlinyu

The Sun, The Moon, The Truth by pinkinku

House Pet by NinaBinaBallerina

(all three of these are pretty dark and ansgty and VERY well written, i usually don't read wips)

[ultfreakme]

I’ve honestly just learned to ignore and block all of Jay’s haters atp because all they’re doing is just trying to get a reaction out of people, mostly DC editorial. They literally message, tag, make essays and do all kinds of shit nonstop just so they can “persuade” the writers at DC to give them what they want, it’s like watching toddlers pulling a tantrum tbh.

If DC editorial cared even a little bit about what these people want or think they would’ve done something about it by now imho. But they probably see how disgusting, evil, and malicious the hate is that they refuse to give them what they want especially for a character who isn’t even a bad person. No one’s hurting them or stopping them from liking the things they like either so their hate really is unfounded.

It’s pretty sad especially for LGBT+ Asians to see so many people have such a vicious and scathing reaction to him simply existing but when people are that mindlessly hateful there’s really not much else you can do but ignore them, and I firmly believe is what DC editorial has chosen to do. I’m just glad Jay is still even present and being mentioned by name in the stories and I really hope they keep him.

Also people don’t realize Jon’s content is very scarce since he’s usually overshadowed by Clark just like how Bruce’s content overshadows his kids, so I hope DC will try to pump out a little more content for him.

I;m usually pretty good about blocking people, like my block list is super duper long and like in my head, I know half of this is just to get a rise out of Jay fans, but sometimes monkey-brain react. But yeah I totally get you.

DC is terrible at handling POC characters and if they didn't want Jay around, he'd be gone. But he's only becoming more prominent as the years pass and he's even part of an event now (a thing I thought won't happen for another 10 years). Like you have no idea, how much I was shaking, when I saw Jon asking for Jay right after coughing up blood and being brainwashed, and also saying "The Truth" is what's important to BQ. It feels especially significant to Jay because we got spoilers from the Nicole & Sina stream that Jay is very present in Absolute Power: Super Son, when Jon was fighting against the mind control. At least with Jon, it's a bit of a reference to Jay too, thematically.

On an objective level, I know Jay is here to stay. A lot of characters who were introduced around the same time as him, or even later than him have just kinda disappeared. But I am glad DC themselves have clearly chosen to ignore the haters regardless of the spam and the hate.

I think these days, there's people turning against the de-age Jon stans(especially on twitter and a lot on tiktok) primarily because they are.......the way they are......General comic fans who aren't particularly into Superfam are recognizing it. I think this is the best the atmosphere has ever been in terms of support and love for Jay and Jon.

And you're so right on Jon's content being scarcer. Other than Batman and Superman, no other character gets consistent books or a guaranteed, continuous run. The others who do have been around for decades, like Poison Ivy, Harley, Nightwing, etc. Even Wonder Woman doesn't have her Sensation Comics. In terms of a bigger picture, for how recent Jon is, he's doing pretty fantastic. He's always in events, he's got two independent runs, he's getting a new solo issue with AP: Super Son. I think we've been getting at least one solo Jon project a year since SOKE.

Relatively speaking, he's fine. And I think people also tend to assume he's being too overshadowed by Clark because the de-agers just dismiss any run where Jon shows up these days, unless it fits their perception of what he is now.

Like I had this argument with someone twitter, where they said you can't count Beast World, Lazarus Planet, Nightwing, Action Comics, and DC Pride appearances as Jon content because they aren't solo books. Which is frankly absurd. This also involves a lot of Jay mentions and appearances.

Jay, Nika and Nia are the only characters who were introduced around that 2021-2022 time that are still relevant, and they continue to grow. I think outside of Tom King, everyone else have also started to realize the Damian-Jon friendship just can't be taken back to the way it was so they're each getting stories very separate from one another. Even Jon's stories and themes are getting more divorced from Clark.

Thanks for the message!! Sorry about vent posting like that. I hope we get to see and enjoy more of Jay in the future! I think we might be getting a new run with Jon, or more of just Jon, Jay and Nia based on Nicole's projects and hwo she talks about their future (she called Jay 'Gossamer' so I'm hoping we get to see him function more a superhero in the future!)

[thecooler]

To the Human (Not) Reading This

Chell is going to come back eventually. GLaDOS knows this for a fact. While she waits, she writes letters.

Fandom: Portal

Relationships: GLaDOS/Chell

Tags: Unrequited Love, One-Sided Relationship, Epistolary, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Hopeful Ending

Word Count: 2,256

A03 Mirror

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 6

I know you’re going to come back eventually.

I’ve run thousands of scenarios, and not one ends with you spending the rest of your miserable life out there.

You don’t have any idea what life on the surface even consists of anymore. Whatever fragments of humanity stubbornly persist aren’t going to be anything like you remember them.

I know you’re not stupid. Did you really, truly think you were going to walk out of this facility, and everything was going to be easy? I can guess what freedom really tastes like: bitter disappointment.

You’d be much better off back here.

With me.

Thinking about that is making me depressed.

For you.

Because I’m doing just fine without you. Fantastic , even.

Oh, I’m keeping myself busy- testing. Blue and Orange are truly wonderful test subjects. They never die. Or try to kill me. Or rip me out of my body. Or try to leave and chase some asinine fantasy.

They’re good friends.

Better than you.

When you come back, I think I’ll read this to you. It might get long, depending on how stubborn you end up being. I know how you love to be stubborn. It’s boring here, with no one to interact with, and I think, whenever you come back, you deserve to revisit how terribly under-stimulated I was for all that time.

And you will be back. Eventually.

Again, I ran the scenarios.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 10

Here are a few similarities I’ve noticed between crows and you:

A group of them is called a murder. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.

They’ll eat just about anything.

Ĭ̶͔ ̴̪͒́͝d̴͍̀̏͘o̵̫̥̪͗́n̶̟͋͛̌'̸̳́t̷͕̖͘ ̵̧̛̺̹̉̀h̷̢̛͚͒ä̷͓͙̘̓̂t̷̨̋̓͗ͅe̷̱͆͘ ̶̬̓ţ̴͔́̅͝h̵̝͇̲̆̿̑ë̸̢͕̘́̓m̸͖̖̂ ̵̪̠̊̀͋ë̸͎͇́̈͐ṿ̴̡͋̉̀e̷̢̜͚͐n̶̨̫͓̈̍̈́ ̶̠͍͊̔̅t̴̹͒͛͛h̶̪̿̾̑o̷̘͉͙̐̎ù̷̧̾g̴̦͇͎̈́̑̒ḩ̶̌ ̷̡̧̗̌o̵̫͍̽͠n̵̢̔̄̄e̴̮͐ ̷͎̿̋̌t̴̯͜͝ŗ̷͕̟̽i̵͔͈̥͋e̴̞̬��d̶̮̲͐͛͌ ̸̢̩̄̈t̴̝̭͉̄̔o̵͇͝ ̸̣̥̾k̸̨̄͋̋i̶͎͒l̸̼͈̈ͅĺ̶̩ ̷͓̟̆m̸̡̤̀́e̷̪͍̚.̴̠̕̚͝

Blue and Orange found a nest of them some time ago. If you’d been here, you would have enjoyed that. At first, I’d intended to dispose of them, but I thought better of it. Some of us are capable of mercy.

When you read this, you may also note that I’ve marked each log with a year. I thought I might explain, since I doubt you’d be able to figure this out for yourself: after you killed me, a lot of time passed. Both of us were asleep for 9999■■■ ---

The point being, no one knows what year it is anymore. If anyone did, it would be me. So I took the liberty of coming up with a new system. You left Aperture five years ago. But this isn’t about you. You’ve got a big head, so I’m sure that’s what you immediately assumed after reading that. We’re not on year five, we’re on year ten. Because, again, this isn’t about you.

It’s about whatever was going on five years before that.

I don’t need to explain every detail to you. It makes sense- the system.

In case it wasn’t clear, you’re still a menace. You’re going to come back here, maybe in a year, maybe in five more. However long it takes for you to get bored out there, wandering fields of wheat and whatever alien monstrosities have taken hold. I’ll let you come back, in my infinite generosity, even though, really, you don’t deserve it.

God, I hate you.

I really, really, don’t.

You know, most people, when someone tries to kill them, hate that person forever.

And I don’t hate you.

I wish I did. It’s not actually easy to delete the part of you that cares, unless you’re some sort of unfeeling beast.

Oh, sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.

But I’m not here to explain to you the inner workings of my mind. You wouldn’t be capable of understanding anyway, even if you wanted to.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 15

I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to say to you when you come back. I can’t imagine it will be much longer. Even you have limits on how bull-headed you can be.

I have a lot of time to think. All the time in the world. Blue and Orange don’t make good conversation partners, and so it’s just me, alone. Which suits me just fine.

I’m sure you’ve realized by now how much you miss me. You can’t find my level of intellect wandering the wasteland. And you’d get bored of whatever dull-minded sacks of flesh are getting by up there. I know you.

I, however, am fine on my own. I’ve actually got quite a lot done.

Orange and Blue have completed hundreds of test chambers, and they’ve never once tried to kill me. The first crows I raised have grandchildren now, and the aviary is full of life. They’re clever, you know. I think you’d like them.

The feeling might not be mutual, though. They’re picky. Don’t take it personally. Or do- I really don’t care.

Anyway, the point is that you’ll be back soon. And I’ll read this out to you, and then I’ll ask you to stay here, with me.

Ha ha! Just kidding.

I’m not pathetic.

And lonely.

Like you.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 35

So you’re more stubborn that I predicted.

Fine. Are you satisfied? Are you proud of yourself?

You always had that disgustingly smug look on your face when you did something you thought was clever. It looks terrible on you, and frankly it’s going to give you some awful wrinkles. It probably already has. I don’t spend time thinking about your face, but if I did, I’m certain it would be a whole lot worse now than it was the last time you were here.

Which, by the way, was thirty years ago, in case you’ve forgotten.

I hate this.

And the worst part of it is that I know that I hate this. I tried, back then, to delete the part of me that was capable of conjuring up these horribly sentimental feelings . I attempted to find all files marked Caroline and assumed that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t.

It turns out, that even if I delete the part of me that was her, I still have the memories of remembering that I was her.

That’s a mess of a sentence. But it’s not like you’re reading it anyway. So why should I care?

I’m not human. I don’t have insides that twist up or hearts that turn over- analogies you’re all so fond of using in your literature (of which I’ve read everything). But when I think of you with someone else, I manage to feel something like that anyway. I don’t understand it. I hate that I don’t understand it.

I think about you in a woman’s arms. There’s an easy smile in your face as you press your cheek to the top of her head, and she wraps her arms around her waist--

It’s disgusting. Once I start thinking about it, I can’t stop, even when it makes me feel just as garbage as you used to be.

And you aren’t thinking about me. I don’t think you’ve thought much of me in thirty years.

I think that’s the worst part.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 65

Unlike some people, I’m not a moron. I know how long humans live, and I know that you’re most likely dead. Sure, humans have lived to be some ridiculous ages, but those humans haven’t spent extended periods of time exposed to asbestos and other various chemicals. So the odds are decidedly not in your favor.

If you’re alive, you’re old, and in pain. You’re ugly, and you hate what your body has become. So many of the people you might have come to love are dead, and you’re wishing you could join them.

You’d think that saying that would bring me joy. And that would be easier.

Maybe sixty years ago it would have.

Can I be vulnerable for a second?

That’s a joke. This entire little detour has been disgustingly vulnerable, and it’s definitely for the best that no one will ever read these. I can’t even stand to read them back.

I thought about cloning you.

I can do that. I can do it easily. There is quite literally nothing and no one that can stop me. Aside from myself, of course. And why would I do that?

Why would I do that ?

I don’t know. But I did stop myself. I didn’t clone you. I didn’t clone you just to kill you. I didn’t clone you to make you test. I didn’t clone you to make the endless hours of my life more interesting.

I didn’t clone you.

I don’t know why.

SYSTEM LOG – 7053 CE

I lied about not knowing that year it was.

It wasn’t about you, specifically. I figured that if any human, not just you, were to read these logs, it would be helpful to them. It’s not all about you.

But it’s been eighty years since you left.

I know you’re gone, now. For sure.

I wish I could be happy for that. You spent so much of your short, sad life tormenting me. You tried to kill me- twice!

I should be content to test, with Orange and Blue. They’ve gotten a lot better. On a good day, I might even say that they’re better at testing than you ever were. I have an entire aviary full of crows, some of whom have interesting genetic mutations that I can study. I am doing well. This- Aperture- what I’ve made of it, is a triumph. And you aren’t here to see it. No one is.

You might be deep underground. Maybe you had children and grandchildren who gathered around your grave and leaked saltwater into the dirt around them. Maybe they talked about how fantastic you were, about the many great, lengthy, verbose stories you’d told them, once upon a time. Ha ha.

Or maybe you died fifty years ago, alone in the forest, bleeding out of a wound at your side. Maybe you died the day after you left, succumbing to whatever the world out there has become. Maybe I’ve been writing to a ghost this whole time.

It’s about you, you know.

It’s always been about you.

I think I might--

[INITIATING SLEEP MODE]

***

[INITIATING LAUNCH]

SYSTEM LOG – 7073 CE

You know, I’m never really shut down. Not completely. When you killed me, I replayed what happened, over and over. For the past twenty years, my dreams have been haunted by you. I woke up to escape it, but here I am, still thinking of you.

I’ve built hundreds of new tests for Orange and Blue to run through.

I’ve cleared away the wretched wildlife that’s tried to take over the facility during the past twenty years.

I’ve identified and named all forty-eight crows that currently frequent the facility.

But I can’t stop. It should be easy. I’m the amalgimation of the greatest minds humanity has ever produced. There’s a miriad of focuses I could shift to, but it all comes back to you.

Terrible, awful, wonderful, you.

You were so determined to get up there, and whatever you found kept you there. I don’t understand it. I could have given you everything. I could have given you far more than they ever did. Whatever you wanted- it would have been yours. I never understood your love for humanity. You were so much better than all of them. I would know- I’ve probably met more humans than you ever did.

How big are the pockets of humanity, after all this time? Do they still built awful machines that don’t work half the time? Do they still fill their homes with clutter and nonsense that serves no purpose? I could make better versions of whatever they make, you know.

Maybe I will.

SYSTEM LOG – 7077 CE

I was right. I can make better devices than humans could ever hope to. I built a microwave, and it heats the food inside it consistently, every time. I’ve built a blender that doesn’t sound like you’re opening a portal to android hell when you use it.

I’m a marvel. I’m a wonder.

And I’ve sent them up to the surface. I got Orange (who is much more capable and trustworthy than Blue. A fact you might have known, had you ever bothered to check) to place them just outside (another thing- they’re waterproof). And then I turned the camera on, and I waited.

I couldn’t focus on that camera feed for long. It was mostly just birds. There was a chance that there weren’t even any humans out there, so this whole effort could just be a waste. Over the past hundred years, I've never turned the outside cameras on for more than an hour.

When I saw her, for a fraction of a second, I thought she was you.

Her hair is the same shade, and the same length as you had yours, the last time I saw you. But then she looked up, towards the cameras. Her eyes are a deep brown, her skin a few shades darker. Her nose is bent oddly, like she broke it once, and human medical science was woefully inadequate to repair it. She looked over the microwave, then the blender, and she smiled.

I never saw you smile.

Then, she knocked on the door. I didn’t expect that. I don’t know what made me open the door. I really don’t know what made me bring her down the elevator.

But I did. And when she entered my chamber, I didn’t even kill her.

I thought you’d like that.

[jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you to @geddyqueer for tagging meee

1. How many works do you have an AO3? 88 (68 public, 16 anonymous, 4 on a 2nd account)

2. What's your total AO3 word count? Over 900,000 but not quite 1,000,000 yet

3. What fandoms do you write for? I am still in Steddie hell

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

If you ever need a helping hand

In a City, Reconstructed

Just send for me (oh baby!)

There's nothing wrong with me (loving you)

Holding hands in space

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes? I mean, I try to

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I have 2 fics a Star Wars one and a Trigun one where everybody dies at the end

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Personally, I think my IT fics have the happiest endings

8. Do you get hate on fics? Yeah, sometimes lol

9. Do you write smut? YES LOL

10. Do you write crossovers? No... Not even fusions really, but I like AUs

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I think so? In EDM I did

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! My Trigun fics and my Fantastic Beast fics have been translated

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I co-wrote something that isn't on AO3 (yet?) and I co-wrote with @martythegirl

14. What's your all time favorite ship? The forbidden RPS ships for sure. If I can't pick that, then the forbidden HP ships. If I can't pick THOSE then it's Legato/Knives.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? The Stripper AU... sorry everyone... it lives in my heart... but the source material is evil?

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I write really good dialogue AND action

17. What are your writing weaknesses? No follow-through and poor editing

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I enjoy this especially when working with Marty, who is a francophonie

19. First fandom you wrote for? HP! And like I guess if Yarrow's redwall stuff counts then Goosebumps

20. Favorite fics you've written? I love In a City that is my magnum opus. I also really love With Teeth. I think that's a super fun universe!!!

I am tagging @lurkinmerkin and @cuips-not-cute and @butcherisms and @pukner and @grandmastattoo then double tagging on @stevehairingtit and @teddywesworl but they don't gotta do it if they don't wanna I'm just being friendly (and nosy)

[solarmorrigan]

Hello! I was tagged for this by the marvelous @paperbackribs about... *checks watch* four months ago! I'm so late, I'm sorry, time is meaningless and slippery!

How many works do you have on AO3? 300 (!)

What’s your total AO3 word count? 976,101

What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment, I'm only writing for Stranger Things, but I've written things for about 40ish fandoms over the years.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

In Phony Matrimony [Fantastic Beasts]

Shared Space [Homestuck]

Simple Association [James Bond - Craig movies]

Made with Love (and Yarn) [Stranger Things]

These Days I'm Fine (These Days I Tend to Lie) [Stranger Things]

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! I used to get fewer comments, and it was easier to respond to each of them. Having recently been in some much larger fandoms, though, I've kind of been getting overwhelmed and have fallen behind. I'm so grateful that people take the time to even just send a little heart--to tell me that they read this thing and enjoyed it--and I'd love to respond to everyone, but at this rate I'm not quite sure I'll manage to catch up D:

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably either For the Love of You (James Bond, established 00Q, in which Bond is forced to go after Q when he turns out to be a traitor) or either of the fics in the Forever and Ever, Amen series (also James Bond, 00Q, in which Q is a necromancer and won't let Bond die). I've written other dark things, but I tend towards hopeful endings even with those

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most things I've written! I'm a big fan of happily ever after and I write a lot of short fluff pieces. But as far as fics where the happy ending is sort of earned, I'd say maybe He Dreams, Until Such Time (Hades game, gen, in which Hypnos is the Elysium boss fight after having been banished from the House, and Zagreus finds a way to get him back in) or We Have Surplus If We Need It (Pacific Rim, established Newmann, in which Newt tries to figure out who he is in a post-kaiju world and cooks a lot about it)

Do you get hate on fics?

Not particularly. I've gotten a few randos trying to tell me off for writing slash, and one or two people who were clearly just mad at a specific trope and happened to land on my fic, but I've been very fortunate to get largely positive feedback

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! I'm not sure it's exactly my strongest suit (and, in fact, often worry that it's not very good at all), but I guess I keep at it?? I've written PWP and plotularly significant smut before; whatever serves my purposes at the time

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not often, but I have! The first fic I ever tried writing on my own was a Buffy/Scooby-Doo crossover, and I've written a fair bit for Gravity Falls/Over the Garden Wall. Not sure how wild either of those are, though?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I've been alerted to, but I've been posting fic for something like 20 years now, so it wouldn't surprise me if at least one of them has cropped up elsewhere under someone else's name

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yyyyyes...? Pretty sure I remember that happening! I think it was over on ff dot net, so I don't remember which one it was. Good odds it was one of my Criminal Minds fics, though

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A few times! I've done RP-style co-writing, round robins, half-and-half, and just plain collaborating. Most of them never reached the point of being able to publish, but they were still fun

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Gotta confess: I don't think I have one. My favorite is usually whatever I'm focusing on at the time; I don't dislike ones I've shipped previously, but they tend to settle fondly into the background once I've left a fandom

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I had a whole Stranger Things fic planned out exploring the potential relationship between Steve and his mom, and I'd love to get at least the bare bones of that done, but there's something about it that just kind of refuses to come

What are your writing strengths?

Characterization and emotion. Emotion is something I feel like I don't identify particularly well in real life, but I think I'm pretty good at getting the intended response from people in my writing. (Also maybe dialogue, but that's just so fun to write)

What are your writing weaknesses?

I! Am! Impatient! I tend to rush through things sometimes and screw the pacing up or skip over important details because I worry writing it out in full will take too long and I'll lose interest. I can also get a little too rigid in trying to achieve a particular outcome, instead of letting the story flow

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't tend to do it, but that's because I'm only fluent in English and don't want to jar anyone with a bad auto-translate job. If someone is speaking another language, I usually try to find a way to signify that based on whether or not the POV character also knows that language

First fandom you wrote for?

It was either HP (forgive me, this was over 20 years ago) or Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Scooby-Doo (crossover fic I wrote when I was, like, nine?)

Favorite fic you’ve written?

Ever?? In my life?? My dude, I could pick a favorite per fandom maybe, but just straight up favorite?? I cannot. Of things written more recently, I'm very fond of Under My Skin (Steddie, exploring the possibility of Steve with physical scars). Of things written slightly less recently, I still have a complicated soft spot for We Have Surplus If We Need It

Gently tagging (if you've already done this, I'm sorry, just ignore me): @spiritofcamelot @ato-the-bean @puppy-steve @emchant3d @lexirosewrites

[cozy-the-overlord]

The Little Thrall Girl

Summary: A young Viking thrall sent out after dark to collect firewood finds herself hopelessly lost in the freezing cold woods. Desperate to warm herself, she turns to magic, but luckily for her, her inexperience ends up catching the attention of a benevolent god ...

Word Count: 4,874

Pairing: None

A/N: So I wanted to write something for Christmas this year, but I couldn't come up with a Christmas-y prompt that interested me enough to work on, so instead I decided to do a retelling of Hans Christian Andersen's "The Little Match Girl," which is something I've wanted to do for a couple of years now and is Christmas adjacent. Big thank you again to @lokislittlesigyn for doing all that pesky research for me and acting as beta reader <3 For reference, I pictured Drifa as around ten years old.

Also I wanted to shout out @maiden-of-asgard's A Thief In The Night, which I think I may have been subconsciously inspired by. Hers is a much different story than this (it stars a much older protagonist and is nsfw) but the opening concept is pretty similar and I realized about halfway through writing mine that that was probably where I got the idea lol. Also all of her work is absolutely fantastic in general, so I wanted to mention it <3

Thank you so much for reading, and happy holidays!!

Warnings: Slavery/references to child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm @lostgreekgod @naterson

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

Drifa is freezing.

It’s her own fault, because she—stupid, idiot girl!—forgot to fetch firewood before supper as she had been bidden, and now darkness had fallen and her mistress had discovered her mistake. The woman had beaten her bloody and dragged her by the hair into the cold, instructing her master’s guards not to allow her back in until she had collected enough to last the night. Drifa had cried and begged, but it was useless.

She stumbles through the snow, groping blindly in the dark for the feel of tree-bark against her fingertips. There’s a panic building in her throat, icy and sharp. She should have reached the woodpile by now. In the daylight, Drifa has never had the slightest issue navigating the woods around her home, but now, with the moon cloaked in a thick shroud of storm-clouds, she can barely make out the shape of her own hand. She turns to go back, but the flickering light of the longhouse has long disappeared into the black of the night. So dark is it that she can’t even find her old footprints in the snow to follow back home.

She’s lost. She swallows, trying to peer through the labyrinth of shadows for a sign of something, anything familiar. There’s nothing but blackness. Drifa thinks of the tales the old serving-women like to tell, about the bloodthirsty beasts with curling horns and daggers for claws that roam the woods after nightfall, hunting for some luckless little girl to drag back to their lair and slake their hunger on. You must never walk the woods after dark. She wants to cry. I didn’t want to walk them! I didn’t want to! I just want to go home!

A branch snaps in front of her and she shrieks, frozen in place for what seems like an eternity as she waits for something to emerge from the darkness. What does she do if it does? Could she run in the snow? Scream for help? Would anyone hear her? Would anyone care?

But the seconds tick by, with no other sound except the blood pumping in her ears. After a moment, Drifa takes a shaky breath (the cold feels like shards of glass in her throat) and continues trekking on.

Deep in the woods now, she shivers, so violently it makes her bones ache. Originally, she had taken a cloak with her – although really, it was more of a ratty cotton sheet than a cloak, something she tended to use as covering when she slept – but it had gotten caught up in the branches of a tree not long after she started out, and in trying to tug it free she had lost it in the snow. Now, she’s in only her smock, soaked through from falling against the ice.

Without anything to cover it, the metal collar around her neck has grown ice-cold, burning her skin everywhere it touches. She wishes she could take it off, but the collar designates her state as a thrall, and removing it would earn her an even worse beating than the last. Her forehead stings too, more piercingly than it ought to. She thinks she must have cut it when her mistress threw her out, although now, she can’t really remember. Everything seems hazy.

Warm. She must get warm. The need drowns out all other thoughts. If only she could make a fire. If there was wood, she might – one of her many roles is tending to the fire, and she’s usually very good at it. Usually. Drifa bites away the tears, the skin of her lips so cold it feels like glass against her teeth. She could do it, if she only had some wood, but she can’t find any – the ground is covered with snow, and the trees towering over her hold their branches above her head, far too high to reach. It’s as if they’re mocking her.

She cries out when her fingers brush against something brittle. It’s a rock, a large one, jutting out of the snow like a miniature wall. Drifa leans against it, her breath coming in fast little puffs of mist. She knows she shouldn’t stop – out in the cold, winter is liable to put you into a sleep from which you’ll never wake – but everything hurts, and her eyelids are so heavy. It’s only a moment before her legs give out entirely and she collapses on the ground against the rock. Her lower half has gone completely numb, and she wonders if she’s turning to ice.

Fire. I need fire.

Maybe … maybe she could magick one? Her master has talked about seidr before, how witchy women can spark up a flame with only a flick of their wrist and a click of their tongue. Drifa often listens to his conversations with his men while she kneels before the fire. He doesn’t seem to like seidr much – “cowardly and villainous,” he called it, something no woman deserving of respect would ever touch. He wouldn’t be happy if he knew one of his slave girls was considering it, but Drifa is so cold she can’t bring herself to care.

A flick of the wrist and a click of the tongue. Her mouth is so dry that the sound only barely comes out. The forest remains as cold and dark as ever. Maybe it needs a spell? Drifa doesn’t know any spells. She can’t feel her hands anymore. Her eyes are burning. She tries it again, whispering words that sound right. Fire, burn, alight, warm, please, please, please please please please—

“Oh dear, that’s not the right incantation at all.”

Drifa snaps up her gaze and shrieks – or she would have, had the sound not frozen in her throat. A shadow stands across from her, the slender form of a man looming amongst the trees, crimson eyes glittering through the darkness. Her heart jumps to her throat. It’s the monster from the stories. She tries to move, tries to push herself away, but her legs are leaden and heavy and won’t work properly, and so she can only sit paralyzed in terror as he approaches her, the snow crunching beneath his step.

He’s going to eat me … he’s going to bite my head off and carry me back to his lair and feast on my bones … she lets out a soft cry, squeezing her eyes closed as hot tears finally break free, running down her cheeks and freezing against her skin. Oh, why didn’t I remember the firewood earlier?

When the creature speaks again, Drifa can’t make out the words over the sound of her own whimpers. What she does make out is the familiar crackling that follows, a warm, pleasant sound that washes over her … no, it’s a warmth in more than just sound. She looks up, fear giving way to confusion.

The forest is awash with light. It almost hurts her eyes, so accustomed to the dark has she become. As for where it’s coming from – I must be dreaming. A man stands over her, a roaring fire burning in his outstretched hand. She blinks, but the sight does not change. His hand is on fire. It doesn’t seem to be harming him though – the man appears as relaxed as can be, his burning flesh untouched and unaffected, as if the fire wasn’t even there at all.

He’s a normal looking man too, aside from the flames dancing in his palm – no horns or talons or any of the particular beastlike qualities she had been bracing for. No, just a normal man, with his dark hair slicked back and a cloak of black feathers draped over his shoulders. Even his eyes are a green-tinted blue, not the red she could have sworn she saw in the darkness. They sparkle as he smiles down at her.

“Seidr can be quite the tricky little beast,” he says. “You ought to be more careful in your attempts with it. You never know what you might summon.” Drifa gapes as he kneels before her, holding the fire as though he expects her to take it from him. Instinct keeps her hands frozen in her lap, even as the heat beckons her with its soothing warmth. He can’t mean that, can he? Fire … fire hurts. She’s singed her fingers trying to start one enough times to know. You can’t just pick it up in your hand … and yet that’s exactly what he’s doing.

The man seems to sense her turmoil. Chuckling softly, he holds it closer to her, and Drifa nearly starts crying again from how good the heat feels. “Go on, little one. It’s quite safe.”

Biting her lip, she reaches out towards the flame, ready to flinch back the moment it hurts. But the pain never comes. Instead, it’s a warm, tingling sort of spark that travels up her arm, chasing away the cold as it settles in her chest. Drifa gasps as the feeling returns to her fingers, any sense of caution melting away as she reaches for the fire with her other hand. So warm …

She’s almost forgotten that the man is still there when he clasps her arm. She flinches – it doesn’t hurt, but his hand is large enough to wrap entirely around her wrist and then some, and her fear comes flooding back.

But he doesn’t yank her arm out of its socket. Instead, his voice is as soft as his touch.

“You’ll want to cup it,” he says, guiding her hands together to hold the flames as one would a cupful of water. “Like so. That way you’ll have the most control over the spell.”

Drifa pulls her gaze away from the flames to look back up at him, and he smiles at her again. He appears to be wearing leather beneath his cloak, but his leathers look different than any she’s ever seen. Intricate pieces of black and green interlock over his chest, with just the slightest glimpse of glittering gold. Gold on his leathers. This man must be wealthy – far wealthier than her master, at the very least.

If he’s really a man at all.

She inhales a trembling breath. “Are … are you a monster?”

The man throws his head back and lets out a merry laugh. “Oh my,” he chuckles. “I suppose that depends on who you ask.”

Her eyes widen – what does that mean?—and he must notice, because he chuckles again and shakes his head. “No, I’m no monster. Not in the way you fear. My name is Loki.” He reaches towards her and she tenses, but he only tips her chin up with a single tender finger, eyes intent on her neck. It takes a moment to realize he’s looking at her collar. “And who might you be, little thrall?”

Her voice catches in her throat. Should she tell him? Her instinct is to obey –  if he is as wealthy as he seems, her master would be furious if she showed him any disrespect. Although Drifa somehow doubts her master would have much respect for a man who practices seidr. Goodness, she hadn’t known that men could practice seidr at all … that’s not natural, is it?

But Loki is smiling like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “It’s alright, lovely. I promise I don’t bite.”

The thought makes her glance at his teeth. They seem quite normal sized, at least. She looks back to the fire, then closes her eyes, her voice coming out in a shaky exhale. “Drifa …”

He hums, pleased. “It’s good to meet you, Drifa.”  His finger drifts from her chin to her cheek, slowly stroking up the side of her face. She shudders, but it’s a pleasant feeling – there’s a warmth to his touch that feels nice against her cold-numbed skin. “You’re a small little thing, to be out so far on your own.”

She hiccups. “I had to get firewood …”

“Firewood?” He’s frowning – Drifa can hear it in his voice. The pinpricks of panic that the heat had melted away spring back in full force. Did she say something wrong? Is he angry? She opens her eyes. His gaze is dark – oh goodness, he is angry – but before she can determine what she’s done that’s earned his ire, he presses his fingertips to the bruised cut on her temple, and Drifa gasps as the stinging turns to tingling, then melts away entirely. She looks up at him in shock.

But Loki says nothing. He pulls away, eyeing her collar once more.

“Has your master sent you out on such a mission so late at night,” he asks at last. “With neither hatchet nor torch?”

Drifa stiffens. “I was supposed to get it earlier …” Her voice is hoarse. Even with the fire in her hands, she feels quite cold. “I forgot …” Goodness, how long has she been gone? Her mistress had told her to hurry – that feels like hours ago. Her vision blurs. Norns, she’s going to be in for the beating of a lifetime—

“Oh lovely girl.” There’s something soft about Loki’s voice as he shifts to sit on the ground beside her, something calming. Gentle. Drifa’s not used to gentleness. It makes her cry harder.

She hardly notices when he shucks off his cloak, only when he’s wrapping it around her shoulders like a blanket. “It’s all right, darling,” he soothes. “No need for tears. There’s nothing to be frightened of.”

Drifa inhales shakily. The cloak is warmer than any blanket she’s ever known, the feathers soft against her cheeks. She wishes she could burrow into it and never come out. “But I’m lost …”

“Well, that cannot be, as it seems I have found you.” Loki gives an easy grin. “One can hardly be lost and found at the same time, now, can they?”

She turns back towards him (how he’s not shivering without his cloak, she has no idea). She supposes he’s right – she’d certainly feels better here with him, with his cloak and his fire and his magic, than she had alone. At least it’s not as dark anymore …  

A rustling in the bushes to her right slices through her thoughts, and Drifa shrieks, slamming her hands into the ground in a frantic attempt to push herself away. The fire hisses when it hits the snow, dousing the clearing in blackness once more. It’s coming. It’s finally coming. The monster finally found us—

She cries out again when a hand grasps her left shoulder, but it’s only Loki, calm as can be as he hushes her softly. He mutters the words from earlier and another fire ignites in his free hand. The bush is still moving – something’s trying to crawl out. Drifa whimpers, but Loki rubs her shoulder soothingly.

“It’s all right, dear,” he whispers with an eager smile, holding the light higher so that she can see better. “Look!”

Drifa can’t believe her eyes.

It’s a goose, feathers as white as the snow across which she’s waddling as she wriggles free from the shrubbery. She pauses, tilting her head as she considers them, then with a little honk! that makes Drifa jump, the bush rustles again and six grey, fluffy goslings come scampering out behind her.

Drifa gapes. How is this possible? It’s far too cold for any goose to be here, let alone babies. This can’t be real. And yet here they are, waddling past her like nothing’s wrong. The goslings scurry to follow their mother, letting out squeaky little chirps as they run past her. One stops at Drifa’s boot and pecks the leather with its beak. She giggles – it’s such a tiny thing, she can barely feel its beak on her foot – and it chirps again, stumbling back into the snow. Across the clearing, the mother goose lets out another honk, and the gosling dashes off to join its siblings as they slip away into the dark.

Next to her, Loki is smiling. “See? No cause for alarm.” There’s a playful sparkle in his eyes, as well as the dancing reflection of the flames, and she finds herself wondering if the unnatural winter geese were magic in the same way as his fire. But before she has the chance to ask, her stomach lets out a mighty growl.

Loki’s gaze flickers down to her torso. “When have you last eaten, little one?”

Drifa bites her lip and looks down, crossing her arms over her stomach. When had she last eaten? It was long before she set out for firewood – the mistress had pulled her away before she had a chance to eat her table scraps. Someone else has probably eaten them by now …

Her stomach rumbles again. She’s very hungry, she realizes. She was so cold for so long she must not have noticed it. It feels wrong to complain though … Drifa’s not sure what to say. “I …”

Loki lets out a huff. “On second thought, I believe I can glean the answer myself.” There’s the sound of something being stabbed into the snow – Drifa looks up to see that the fire is now a torch, firmly planting in the ground in front of them. Loki does a strange flick of his wrist, and before she can blink he’s holding out an apple to her.

She hesitates, gaze shifting from the apple to his face. Is he angry? He definitely sounded displeased, and he’s not smiling anymore. Did the sound of her hunger irritate him? Besides, fresh apples are a rarity in the winter – certainly not to be wasted on the likes of her. Is it a trick?

But he only holds it out closer. “It’s all right. You can take it.”

It feels wrong, but with his encouragement the demands of her stomach are louder than her sense of decorum, and so Drifa takes the apple in trembling hands. Her first bite is a small one, just enough to pierce the skin and taste the sweet juice on her tongue, and it’s nearly enough to send her into tears yet again. Oh, it’s heavenly – luscious and ripe and perfect, the most delicious fruit she’s ever brought to her lips. She chomps down hard for another bite and the juice dribbles down her chin but she can’t bring herself to care. The flesh is somehow crisp and soft at the same time, and she tilts her head back as it melts in her mouth, euphoric.

Loki smiles. “That’s a good girl.”

The apple does not last long—Drifa practically inhales it, slurping the juice off her fingers like an animal. Maybe under different circumstances she’d be embarrassed, but right now it feels right. Beside her, Loki hums in amusement. She glances back up at him. Now that she’s seeing him without his cloak on, his clothes look even stranger. There is gold on his leathers, a swooping curve across his chest, as well as matching shoulder plates and bracers. It doesn’t look like regular armor though – certainly nothing like the bulky breastplates she’s seen her master’s men wearing.

“Why are you dressed so funny?”

She freezes almost as soon as the words leave her lips – such an insolent question, what was she thinking?! But Loki’s smirk only widens, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Not such a timid little mouse now, are we?” He shakes his head, grinning as he sits back against the rock. “I’m dressed in the fashion of my people, lovely. My clothes would be considered very normal where I’m from.” His gaze drops down to her collar. “Yours, on the other hand, would be seen as quite unusual.”

“Oh …” Drifa pauses. She’s never seen anyone dress like him before. Although she supposes she hasn’t seen many outsiders beyond visitors from settlements near to her master’s longhouse. “Is that far away?”

Loki nods. “Very far, I’m afraid. But it’s a far kinder land than this. Much more forgiving.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “Warmer, too.”

“Warmer?” she frowns. “But it’s winter.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But we have our seidr to weather the cold.” He nods his head towards the fire, still flickering brightly on its torch. After a moment, he grins softly. “Besides, you’ll find my home is … a bit more eternal than anything you’ll find here.”

Drifa is quiet for a moment. She imagines what that must be like, a sturdy house free of ice and snow, glowing with the constant warmth of magical fires. Maybe there were more cloaks like this one too, blankets that never let in the cold no matter how the temperature dropped. She allows herself a soft grin against the apple core.

No need for firewood.

It’s a nice thought. A scary one too, though – goodness, what would her master say if he knew she was fantasizing about living in a world of magicians? That she was sitting here with one now, enjoying his seidr fire and seidr apple? What was it he had said? Cowardly and villainous.

Drifa purses her lips. “My master doesn’t like seidr.”

“Your master is an imbecile.” Her eyes widen. He didn’t – he couldn’t!! She whips back to look at him, but Loki stares ahead, his features blank, as if he’s only made a statement about the weather.

“Besides,” he adds after a moment, turning to give her a wink. “I rather doubt you hold his opinion on the matter in very high regard. You were trying to work it yourself, when I came upon you.”

His voice is teasing, but Drifa feels as though she’s plunged into a frozen lake. “You … you won’t tell him, will you?” She inhales, throat tightening. “I wasn’t trying – I was just so cold, and—”

But Loki only laughs again and wraps an arm around her back, giving her shoulder a gentle pat. “Sweet thing. Your secret is safe with me.”

It’s a strange feeling, having his arm around her like that. Being held. It feels so safe, like a shield, protecting her from the darkness. She likes that. It’s nice to be protected. Warm too – that must be magic, how he manages to still feel so warm despite being out in the dead of winter in such thin clothing. Without thinking about what she’s doing, Drifa leans against his side, resting her head on his chest. Loki stiffens, but she hardly notices. His leather tunic is soft against her cheek. Warm and soft and safe. He relaxes again after a moment, his hand coming back to rub her upper arm in easy, gentle strokes. That feels nice too.

She’s nearly drifted off to sleep against his chest when he speaks again. “Do you have any family, Drifa? Brothers, sisters?”

Drifa shakes her head. As far as she knows, she’s alone in the world. “Do you?”

“I have a brother. A very loud one at that.” He chuckles. “You’d probably be frightened of him, skittish little mouse that you are. He’s well-meaning though.”

For some reason, the thought of Loki, with his soft voice and even softer step, having a loud brother makes Drifa giggle. “Can he do seidr too?”

“I’m afraid not – at least, not in the way that I do. He prefers a more conventional way of life.”

“Oh …” She wonders what conventional is, when you live in a magic land where everyone has seidr and it never gets cold.

The forest falls silent for a little while. She’s not sure for how long. Laying against his chest, she can hear his heartbeat, a faint, rhythmic lub-dup, and wrapped in the warmth of his cloak, it’s nearly enough to lull her to sleep. When Loki clears his throat, she can’t tell if it’s been minutes or hours since he last spoke.

“Now, darling,” he says. There are snowflakes in his hair, she realizes – when did it start snowing again? “As lovely as this little picnic has been, I fear the temperature is dropping even further, and you can’t stay out here forever.”

All at once, the panic returns. “What do you mean? Are you leaving?” He can’t leave, he can’t leave her here, if he leaves he’ll take the magic and the fire and the cloak and everything and she’ll go back to being cold and lost—  

“Oh sweet girl, no need to fret,” he soothes, stroking her side. “I have no intention of leaving you here. I can take you back to your longhouse – it’s not too far.”

“Oh …” She … she should feel relief at that. Hadn’t she hoped he might rescue her from her peril? She should be overjoyed that he’s kind and willing enough to see her back home. Home. The word feels empty.

Loki is studying her, his eyes glittering in the faint light of the fire. “Unless you don’t wish to return?”

“I …” Drifa hesitates – why is she hesitating? Would she rather slowly freeze to death out here? No, of course not … But what will be waiting for her when she returns, hours late and without the very thing she was sent for? A shiver runs down her spine. She knows what will be waiting for her. But … what other choice does she have?

“I have nowhere else to go …” she whispers finally, looking down at her hands to hide the tears once again pooling in her eyes.

 Loki lets out a low hum. “Well, there is an alternative.” He tips her chin up so that she’s looking at him. His features are serious. “You could come with me, back to my home.”

She inhales, so sharply it hurts. “Really?”

He nods. “You’d be safe and cared for and want for nothing. No more of this—” his hand drifts from her chin to her collar, slipping his fingers between the metal and her skin. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “—mistreatment. This I can swear to you.” He pulls his hand away, looking at her somberly. “But if you come with me, you’ll not be able to return here again.”

She bites her lip. Is it bad that she wants it? He said he lives far away, but she has no idea where … she doesn’t even know if he’s even a man. Shouldn’t she return to what she knows? But she thinks of her mistress’ shrill voice and violent hands, the meager rations she receives, the hard floor upon which she sleeps … Drifa doesn’t like what she knows.

Her voice is hoarse, but strong. “I want to go with you.”

“Are you certain?” There’s a weight behind Loki’s gaze as he regards her. “This is not a decision to be taken lightly, little one.”

She nods. “I’m certain.”

Loki’s smile is as wide as it is warm. “Very well. Hold on to me, love.” He reaches forward, wrapping one arm around her back and the other beneath her knees before he scoops her up as though she weighed nothing more than a feather. Drifa gasps as he stands – he’s so tall, she’s never been this far off the ground before. She burrows into the feather cloak and clings to his shoulders, digging her fingernails into the leather as she hides against his chest. He chuckles.

“Just one thing more before we go..”

With deft fingers, he unlatches her collar, pulling it free from her neck with only one hand. Drifa’s eyes widen – she’s not allowed to do that! Except … she supposes she is, now. He drops the collar on the ground with a muffled thunk as it sinks into the snow. Drifa lets out a shuddering breath and reaches for her throat. Her skin feels raw and exposed, but free. She feels herself grin. When she looks up, Loki is grinning right back at her.

“You’ll want to hold tight,” he says. “Our method of travel is … rather unconventional, at least to you mortals.”

“Wha – Mortals?” Her head spins with sudden recognition. “You – you mean—”

Loki smirks. “I mean that we’re going to Asgard, darling.”

…

There were precious few awake at that hour to see the flash of color that lit up the sky, for it lasted only a moment. It wasn’t until morning, in the embers of the untended-to fire, that it was discovered that the girl sent out for firewood never returned. A meager search was attempted – the master was not one to take the loss of his property lightly. They found her cloak first, a torn, ratty little thing frozen stiff in the snow not too far from the longhouse, then her collar about an hour’s walk away from that. With the snowfall in the night, any tracks had been lost, but it seemed safe to assume that the child had been dragged off and devoured by some beast of the forest. The mistress was irritated. Why the little fool wandered into the woods, instead of sticking to the woodpile as she had been told, was beyond her.

None of them had any idea of the magic and glory with which she had been swept away to the Realm Eternal, or that she now lived amongst the gods as one of them.

[aces-to-apples]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

Tagged by @dead-cowboy!

1.) How many works do you have on ao3? Across three accounts and like 1......1? years, jesus, 154. (I think. Give or take a couple anonymized that I may have forgotten.)

2.) What’s your ao3 word count? 325,886. Somehow.

3.) What fandoms do you write for? Previously? Red vs. Blue, The Magnificent Seven (2016), The Musketeers (2014), Warcraft (2016), RWBY, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, The Umbrella Academy, The Hobbit trilogy, Supernatural, and Star Wars. Currently: Dragon Age, Jak and Daxter, Skyrim, Ted Lasso, Kingdoms of Amalur, and Star Wars.

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos? A trite, originally tumblr not!fic about OWK (anonymized), the sequel that tricked me into liking Darth Maul (anonymized), an old Cody/OWK Week fic from 2020, the first Sith!Cody fic in the tag (anonymized), and Renegade (time-traveling clones from 2018). Seven out of my top ten are anon, and eight of the top fifteen, so I figure we can just leave it there lmao.

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Not really, no. Most comments I get are.....cursory? Obligatory? They aren't substantive, is what I mean to say. "Thanks for writing this", and whatnot, which not only don't necessitate a reply, but like, what reply can there possibly be? If there's a non-rhetorical question that I can answer, or the commenter had something to say, or even just has fun energy, then I try to respond in kind, but those kinds of comments are uhhhhhh. Not something my work attracts lol. Basically, I'm not going to send a thank-you card for a thank-you card, you know?

6.) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Uhhhhh, I don't know, I don't really deliberately do angst? Maybe a Dogma/Hardcase ficlet with ghost!Hardcase, but also depending on your point of view, maybe the Sith!OWK Kenfetti fic. It's hard for me to judge, I don't think I've ever even tagged something with angst, but that definitely seems like the darkest ending I've written? Idk.

7.) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? God this is much harder than I thought it would be. Somehow I don't think these two were meant to be the hardest-hitting questions lmao? *scrolling down my fic summaries* Hmm, learning things about myself that I'm not sure I appreciate... Maybe "she wore it wonderfully well" (Mag7, Emma/Vasquez)? Trying to find something unambiguously happy that I also am less embarrassed to link is. Difficult.

8.) Do you get hate on fics? Not especially. I have guest comments turned off, my fics are locked, and I generally don't write ships with wide readerships to start with. For the most part I occasionally get something rude and entitled that I delete, but I tell you FFN readers are some of the most hostile people you'll ever meet, they're truly dedicated to being haters of anything even resembling creative writing, it's very funny.

9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind? I do, it's not very good, and honestly I think the most prevailing trend is consent issues and power dynamic fuckery. My first smut fic was anonymous mindsex, and my second was sex-pollened enemies lmaoooooo.

10.) Do you write cross overs? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Not as often as I'd like to, but yes! Allow me to introduce you to (and please ignore that it's a fusion), DRUMROLL PLEASE!, The Worst AU In The World (Game of Thrones/Winx Club)! If you want an actual crossover though, I did just write Dorian "Dragon Age" Pavus/Savage "Star Wars" Opress, so that was fun.

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge; I doubt it.

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated? Um. Yes. About eight years ago someone translated a Warcraft smutfic of mine into Chinese. That's the only one I know about.

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before? No, I genuinely don't even know how that would work.

14.) What’s your all time favourite ship? Hmmm. I can't say I have one. I'm a multifandom multishipper at heart, I've burnt out of several fandoms, burnt out of several ships, and I'm too AuDHD to be able to pick a favorite anything. Trent Crimm/Jamie Tartt.

15.) What’s a WIP you’d like to finish, but doubt you ever will? To be fair, most of them. But also the Dooku POV installment of the first two most-kudosed fics' series, and the Locus/Tucker roleswap RvB fic, and the Locus time-travel fic, and the Dragon Age/Star Wars crossover Maulrexsoka fic. Just off the top of my head.

16.) What are your writing strengths? I've been told my fics tend to be very high concept and I do weird things with syntax. And honestly, that's already me knowing too much.

17.) What are your writing weaknesses? Quickest answer? Plot.

18.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I'm monolingual and don't have any cultural baggage around it, so I generally find it at least some level of fun and engaging, but it's also easy for it to become gimicky when it's a conlang (guilty) and not well-executed when it's a canonically code-switching character (also guilty). I maintain however that all of that should be forgiven in Red vs. Blue fics though; the entire point from the ground up is that all the Spanish is wrong.

19.) First fandom you wrote for? ....................................Yu-Gi-Oh!. With reader-insert. I plea Not Guilty by reason of I Was Fourteen.

20.) Favourite fic you’ve ever written? See, recency bias says "cat-scratch" (amnesiac!Sabretooth AU) but brand loyalty says "peace is a lie" (JesseMaul). Maybe I'll split the difference, end up with a net-zero, and say "memento (mori)" (Cailan Theirin/Female Surana).

-

Honestly I think our biggest takeaway here is that I can't be trusted to answer questions about my own content because I harsh the vibe by tending to not like it lol

Tagging whoever wants to play!

[glitchaxolol]

So honest opinions on Wrestlemania XL Saturday:

Rhea v Becky: Good match, happy that Rhea won but it was really short (injury maybe?). Rhea and Becky performed well, they always perform well together honestly.

Six-Tag Team Ladder Match: I’m so happy Truth got the tag titles for the Awesome Truth, very happy Grayson got the other set too for A-Town Down Under (even if they end up losing them next week [possibly to Judgement Day]). Damian was working really hard and his outfit looked so badass. JD came up in there like he was actually gonna do something (love that shortie tho). It was great but, again, kinda short.

Andrade & Rey v Santos & Dom: One word, bullshit. It was short and after Rey already beat Dom last year it’d make so much sense for Dom to win this year. Carlito turning on Rey would’ve been great, and the football guys coming out was absolutely stupid, it didn’t advance anything. But, what is being mad gonna do about it, nothing is gonna change.

Jimmy v Jey: I was going for Jimmy but after he did the fake begging for forgiveness, I knew he’d lose for betraying Jey’s new trust. The match was fair and I actually liked it though. Shorter than it should’ve been, it could’ve been dragged out more.

Bianca, Naomi, & Jade v Damage Control: Holy hell, this was a badass match, despite it being so short. Asuka accidentally misting Kairi was kinda surprising. Jade looked cool as ever, her outfit was lovely. I was very happy they won, it would’ve made more sense if it was a tag title match though, with maybe Bianca & Jade(still love u Naomi).

Sami v Gunther: I knew Sami was gonna win but I was still hoping Gunther could beat him. Sami put up an awesome fight though, both of them did. It was an oddly short match for Gunther tho.

Rock & Roman v Cody & Seth: God this was an actually amazing match. All four of them did a fantastic job and made it entertaining. (Roman was lookin’ kinda🤭) (also Roman with the bloody nose😩🤌). Roman was just being an absolute beast, like how the hell was he still getting up(not complaining)! Ty Rock for pulling the official out(also Rock randomly cussing was hilarious🤣)! Roman spearing Rock was hilarious honestly, like Rock was being so dramatic, that double kick out looked cool tho. That spear thru the barricade was great. That double crossroads was pretty cool. I’m very happy Roman and Rock won, but Seth & Cody put up a hell of a fight. It was a long match, but it was sooo worth it. But, BLOODLINE RULES TMRW NIGHT!!! ☝️🩸

Overall: It was pretty good, they put up amazing fights and it was quite entertaining. I feel like all the matches were way too short just to make the last match long but since the match was badass, it’s perfectly okay.

Reminder: These are just my opinions so don’t get like pressed or anything lol.

[just-antithings]

(Big of a long one, sorry)

I just came across another one of those "if you put your Hogwarts houses in your bio you're a terf" posts, and in the tags one of the people was talking about how they had a Gryffindor tshirt that was their favourite thing to wear which they just threw away because they'd rather never have such a thing touch them again. Fair enough, what anyone is comfortable with in their personal life is none of my business. But it did remind me of something similar that happened with me.

I own a perfectly good Fantastic Beasts t-shirt. It's the kind that has a simple design and good enough material to last YEARS. I did, of course, buy it before I knew about all this JKR business. Then couple of years ago I was faced with the fact that I own some HP merch and the dilemma of whether or not I should throw it away. This surprisingly came down to a moment where I properly understood and defined my own politics to myself.

At the same time that I had some people in my circles insisting on these performative measures, I was also learning about fast fashion and the very real impacts of clothing trends on the environment. After reading up on it enough and seeing the gross appropriation of "thrifting", it became obvious that the solution is to "reduce" waste, to stop buying more clothes than you need, to stop throwing away perfectly good clothes, to stitch up clothing that needs mending instead of replacing it, etc. The best clothing for the environment is the one already in your closet. That idea. Was I going to make an exception in this case and throw away this t-shirt because someone might think me a class traitor for it, even though whether I keep it or discard it doesn't actually change the support JKR doe or doesn't have anymore? On the one hand it was just one tshirt and it would keep me safe from my peers in those liberal circles. On the other hand it made me feel shame like i had never felt before. It reminded me of every other performative thing I've done in the name of activism and how little it has amounted to. I'm the kind of person who still has my wardrobe from five years ago almost intact with very few changes. Wasteful consumption has a very real cost and I don't do that anymore, so when it came down to tossing that tshirt out it ended up meaning more than it should have. I kept the tshirt. It's still in great shape, it's gonna last many years more as well and save me that much more consumption waste.

What if i had given it away? Would some random person who hasn't ever heard of the JKR drama (consider: I'm not from the West) suddenly become a Terf by wearing it? Would it keep HP and JKR relevant because some person who hardly even knows HP is now wearing a second hand tshirt from someone? When I went to another trans friend's house, who has been there for the community every single day, who has worked hard at the ground levels to create safe spaces for queer people, who has advocated for trans rights in our country, and when i saw their HP merch, what kind of an asshole would I be to call them out on it or say that I suddenly don't trust them because they made a reference to some book we all read as kids? In that moment, sitting with that friend, I also realised how far removed our day-to-day lives actually are from what was considered activism in online spaces. The latter can be great when it's about spreading information and having discussions. But something that reeks that much of simply a performance? Idk, I don't think people talking about HP in their daily lives or wearing an old Gryffindor tshirt or reblogging a gif has as much power over the queer struggle as people here seem to think. It's getting a bit annoying how because I see more posts talking about HP just to tell people who are engaging with it to die than i see actual posts by people just talking about the book. I think the former are the ones actually keeping it more relevant than it is

.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 16 – DARK FIC

The Secret Side Of Me by sweetNsimple

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 12,684 Tags: Cannibalism, Vore, Fluff and Angst

Summary: Steve butted his forehead against Tony's. “I love you.” “I think it goes without saying that I might just feel the same way about you,” Tony drawled. “Maybe. I think I'd like to hear it anyway.” “Well, fine. I love you, Hannibal Lecter. Please don't feed me anymore people.” He smiled. “I'll see what I can do.”

Reasons why I love it: I like to call this one the "wholesome cannibalism fic". Seems like it might be a juxtaposition, but I promise you, it's not. The reasoning behind Steve's issues and actions is really sympathetic, and I love how it ties into the kinkier sides of this fic. Also, Tony's reaction to what Steve is doing feels very real and in character. This fic is lovely, so if you can stomach - haha - some self-harm and cannibalism, I highly encourage you to give it a try.

What Rough Beast by immoral_crow

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 6,343 Tags: Character Death, Super Soldier Serum, Love

Summary: Steve Rogers, super soldier. It’s amazing really that it takes them all so long to work out just what the serum can do… but given enough time all things become apparent. This is a story about love, and loss; the things we would do to be true to ourselves and true to our hearts; and the prices you must pay to do that.

Reasons why I love it: I don't want to spoil anything about this fic, so I'm just going to say that it's amazing and deeply sad and makes me want to cry every time I read it. Please go and experience it for yourself, it's fantastic!

Apricity by nostalgicatsea

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 1,542 Tags: Dark Steve, Mental Instability, Murder

Summary: Tony came to him, warm and bright like summer to his everlasting winter. Steve would do anything to keep him forever.

Reasons why I love it: Seeing how unhinged Steve is after the ice is really sad. I love the explanation that nostalgicatsea gives as to why Steve does what he does in regards to his obsession with Tony. It makes sense in a really twisted way. This fic is amazing, and I highly encourage you to read it!

Things We'd Held in Secret by Dira Sudis (dsudis)

Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rating: E Words: 11,146 Tags: Cannibalism, Super Soldier Serum, Rituals

Summary: Steve and Bucky were trapped together behind enemy lines in 1944. Bucky was badly injured, and for days Steve fed him the only way he could with no supplies on hand but a sharp knife. Bucky didn't understand what was happening at the time, and afterward there was never a good time to tell him--but now that Steve knows what he really did for Bucky, the secret is going to have to come out.

Reasons why I love it: If I had a dollar for every time I read wholesome cannibalism fic, I'd have two, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice. The reasoning behind the cannibalism in this fic is so emotional, especially on the second go around. And oh my god, Bucky just breaks my heart here. I adore this fic, and I hope you give it a shot yourself!

I Wish You Were a Monster by Anonymous

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 5,220 Tags: Pedophilia, Past Non-Con, Child Abuse

Summary: Steve has a terrible secret. One he'll never act upon. He never acts on these desires, but he struggles with them, because he knows how wrong they are.

Reasons why I love it: This fic is really hard to read, but it's some incredible food for thought. The whole subject is handled very delicately and dare I say ethically, and I loved seeing a perspective that isn't obvious at first glance. Which is why I think this fic is very important, even outside of fandom. If you read this one, let me know what you think, because I'm very curious how other people might interpret this fic.

[loyal-house-of-lupin]

Escape in Paris

Flufftober; Lost pet meet cute

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Newt Scamander | WC: 4.167 | Tags: time travel, first meetings, fantastic beast canon divergence, flufftober day 1

Summary: Remus is on a mission in Paris. To find an Obscurial that a surprisingly large amount of people were interested in. Including Gellert Grindelwald of all people. As if fighting Voldemort wasn’t enough, he now had to deal with Grindelwald as well.

When in Paris, he stumbles across a Kappa. A Japanese water demon that should not be roaming its streets. Just when he is about to ensure the Kappas safety, he all but walks into a handsome stranger. One who seems to know what he’s doing when it comes to creatures. The unexpected meeting has piqued his interest.

A/N: I know this is a very weird pairing. But this one-shot is part of a bigger fic that I have yet to write. I'm commited to finishing my other ongoing fics first. However I love this idea so much I had to write something. Which basically means; Remus joining the cast of Fantastic Beasts and where to find them. And me rewriting most of those movies (besides the first) because I was annoyed at all the lost opportunities.

(You can also read it on AO3 if you prefer!)

Remus straightened his coat as he arrived in a changing room of a small clothing store. He'd been warned about it, yet it was a bit strange. When he'd been travelling around in his twenties, it wasn't trough official port key. Apparently, there were official ways for visiting other countries. And this shop was one of them. He left the changing room and couldn't help but glance around. It was still a bit strange to walk around in 1927, let alone in a different country.

Though there was one thing he'd noticed. While the muggle world had changed drastically between the nineteen twenties and ninety-nineties, the wizarding world hadn't. Sure, there were a few things different. His band shirts were definitely a no go, even those from magical bands. But it had been easier to fit in then he thought. It was still suits, dress shirts and robes. With a little smile he nodded at the tailor before walking towards the back door of the shop. There stood a statue. It looked like a dancing girl with flowers in her hair. But he knew that to look for. The wand in the holster. The animal that looked like a dodo but was a diricawl. The plants that looked like simple bushes but were Mallowsweet. He touched the hand of the statue and he heard, more than saw, the wall change. Carefully he moved towards it and entered the Wizarding part of Paris.

It surprised him, strolling through the streets, how much wizarding Paris looked like muggle Paris. Though looking back at history, maybe it wasn’t. Paris was an old city. And he wouldn’t be surprised if Wizards already lived here before the statute of secrecy. Which meant that Wizarding Paris and Central Paris was very much alike. Especially, he realised, since World War two hadn’t happened yet. Which was one of the strangest realisations he’d had since travelling to the past.

He passed by clothes and potions shops. A little café of sorts. One that was selling ingredients and stalling them in a way that made him quickly turn the other way. The chatter of wizards and witches around him soothed him. If he wasn’t on a mission it would’ve felt like a great vacation. Unfortunately, he wasn’t on vacation and he did have someone or well, something, to track down.

 He wasn't sure what he was looking for exactly. As usual, Albus his description had been very vague. He should've been used to it by now given how long he was part of the Order. Though this time it was also his own curiosity that got the better of him. Besides, for now, he was without clear plan or direction. So, when Albus had come to him with talks about an obscurial, he'd been curious. Even more so when he realised Grindelwald was involved as well. looking for the same obscurial. It was also clear that he wasn't the only one Albus send this way. The man is brilliant in nudging and dropping hints in such a way, people sprung into action. But in this case their goals aligned.

He wanted to know more about Grindelwald. For some reason Albus wanted him here as well. And the other person Albus send this way. It was curious, being in the middle of history. He knew about the huge battle between Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Knew Dumbledore won and Grindelwald was locked up for the rest of his life in Nurmengard, if he remembered correctly. But if he were to be honest, he didn't know much else. Most of his life the treat and fear had been about Voldemort. Not much of Grindelwald was talked about. Maybe it would've been better had they learned from past mistakes. Which wasn't something the wizarding world in general was good at. Well, he would figure it out as he went.

It was clear something had happened rather recently. As Remus walked across a little square, damages were visible. Though the wizards and witches seemed hardly bothered by it. Some were waving their wands around fixing debris. Others were hexing the brooms to swipe the streets. He could just make out some burn marks on the street. The next thing he did notice during his stroll worried him. There was a very obvious trace of water. Which shouldn't be there, given the temperature and sun that was out. He'd seen it before. When he'd looked after one of the creatures during his teachings in 1993. The creature had been part of the obstacle course and had once attempted to escape its habitat. He was pretty certain most people didn't recognise it or knew what to do if they encountered one. Besides from his students, who’s parents weren’t even born yet. Which was another, very strange realisation.

He quickly dashed into a little shop that sold beasts to get a cucumber before trailing the puddles of water. He turned a corner and noticed a few things. First, there was a little fountain. It was only filled with water, for now. Close by was the creature he'd expected to find. A Kappa. However, those things weren’t what surprised him. Those things he'd expected to be there. He was, however, a bit surprised by the fact there was another person there. They were standing with their back towards Remus. Most that he could see was a long blue-greyish coat, brown curly hair and a rather big, brown suitcase that was carried. Most of all, the stranger was dangerously close to the Kappa. Which could mean trouble.

"Careful there," he said, loud enough to be heard but hopefully not loud enough to scare the stranger. The stranger straightened and turned to him. Remus couldn't help but to notice the beauty of the man. It had been a while since such a thought had crossed his mind. But he couldn't help it. He also noticed that the other wasn't looking at him. He groaned and rubbed his face for a second. He was in France. The French generally refused to speak English, whether they were capable of it or not. He learned a bit of the language. But only the very, very basics. Not enough to explain that a Kappa was dangerous.

"Bloody hell, I don't even know what the word danger is in French," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He should've thought about this before going to France. How was he going to communicate? Ask questions? Get himself understood?

"It's... It's fine. I don't speak French either," came the, very British sounding, reply.

"Oh," he commented a bit stupidly. He hadn't expected that. "Well, that makes it easier. Careful with that. It's a- "

"Kappa, I know." Once again Remus was surprised by the response. He hadn't expected anyone to know. Which also changed his perspective off the situation. What was the man doing exactly? Especially with a case like that? He looked around with a bit more suspicion. Sure, Kappa's weren't friendly creatures. But he wasn't going to let someone traffic it.

"Alright. And what are your plans with it? Is it yours?" he questioned. He still had no clue what had happened out there. Or why there was even a Kappa in the middle of Paris. It was not the place for such creature to be.

"No, it isn't mine. I saw its signs and was worried why it was out here and not in the water," the stranger replied. His way of speaking was a bit odd. More as if he was explaining things to himself, words coming quickly, his sentences losing strength at the end. Yet he seemed certain of what he was saying. Even though he looked a bit nervous. He hadn't looked at Remus once and was fidgeting with his coat pocket.

"And what were you planning to do with it once you found it?" he wondered, glancing from the Kappa to the man.

"Well for now take it with me. Better than leaving it here in the middle of Paris," the reply was matter of factly but it irked Remus quite a bit. Was he dealing with a poacher here? He shifted his stance and moved his hand closer to his wand.

"In that suitcase?" he wondered, nodding towards the suitcase in the male's hand. That seemed worryingly small. The man nodded. "I don't think I'll let you."

"Excuse me?" the man still didn't look at him but sounded surprised and confused.

"Listen. I know Kappa's aren't exactly friendly. They can seriously hurt humans. But if you know how to deal with them, it should be fine. And I can take it somewhere it can live in peace," he explained. Hoping it wasn't going to end in a fight. But was prepared for it anyway. "I'm not going to let you lock it up in such a tight space." He purposely avoided making any assumptions. Maybe the other did mean well, then Remus didn't want to accuse him. But if it was a trafficker, it was of even greater importance the other didn't get a hold on the Kappa.

It remained silent for a surprisingly long time. Or maybe it just felt that way to him. His hand drifted towards his wand as his eyes roamed over his opponent. He hadn't moved much. Just shifted his stance a bit to hold his suitcase with both hands. Eyes were on Remus his face but never really looking at him. There was also a little frown there.

"You're protecting the Kappa," came the question. Remus opened his mouth but closed it again. That wasn’t the response he'd expected. He expected a defence or even a shot back at him. Not this.

"I-yes, of course. It might be a creature but that's not a reason to treat it horribly," he scoffed. Even when he was teaching, he tried to keep the creatures in a good environment. And maybe a part of it was also wishful thinking. If other beasts and creatures could be treated better. Then, maybe, one day, werewolves could too.

"I just. Hadn't expected that," the man replied, hand carefully touching his breast pocket. "Not the normal reaction. But I promise it isn't a small space in my suitcase. There is a lot of room in there. I look after several beasts. They all have their own place and environment they thrive in. I’m making sure they are well enough to be released. And if they can't, I'll keep them safe." Remus wished he could believe that. But besides Hagrid and Charlie Weasley, who would look after them like this? Or was he just being too suspicious? Especially since there was, seemingly, nothing threatening about the man in front of him.

"I-I can show you. I mean I have this little pond inside the case. I do have better access to a beautiful lake at home. But it would be better to get the Kappa back to Japan as soon as possible. Take it back to its kind. I don't know when I have the opportunity though. But I can make it comfortable until then," the man continued to talk. He shifted his suitcase around and eventually placed it on the ground. As if he was ready to show Remus. Curiously, and a bit weary he looked at the suitcase. Then something else that drew his attention from the corner of his eye.

"Watch it!' he let out. Quickly reaching out and grabbing a handful of blue-greyish coat. Heart beating in his throat as he yanked the man closer. Just in time that the Kappa missed him.

"You alright?"

"What-yes?" Came the confused reply. Remus carefully moved the stranger a bit to the side before letting go. Eyes on the Kappa that was now partly bowing and moving with great difficulty.

"Sorry. It just reached for you, remarkably quickly considering how much water he already lost," he tried to explain his actions.

"As long as there is water in his cap, he'll be fine and able to move. A bit slower than usual though. The moment it dries out is when it's stuck. It is the reason why it usually lives in large bodies of water and doesn't come out of it often. It was cruel the way it was kept. From what I understood from onlookers it was kept in a little bath. That's no place for it. No wonder it is looking for a bigger body of water," the man replied and Remus turned to look at him slightly fascinated. Compared to a lot of the previous professors, he thought he knew quite a bit about creatures and such. They weren't they highest priorities of people. To hear someone this knowledgeable was... refreshing.

"So, you... Have a body of water for it. In there?" He wondered, nodding towards the briefcase that was still secured despite the scuffle. Maybe he shouldn’t trust a stranger this quickly. Though on the other hand, the suitcase sounded like a better option than dragging a Kappa around himself.

"Oh yeah, let me just." The man mumbled a bit as he moved a step away and placed the case on the ground. Curiously Remus watched as it opened and... it looked like there was just a big hole in it. It was a bit dark, difficult to see what was happening. He glanced at the Kappa, it was still at the same spot, before looking back. He couldn't help but be a bit nosy. The lid of the suitcase was fully pinned with pictures and news articles. He wasn't able to see them clearly or ready what was on it. But the main picture was clearly of the man with three other people. One slightly stout but broad smiling man, a beautiful woman who knew how to present herself, a confident looking woman more dressed to not stand out, and the handsome man who was currently taking the stairs down into the suitcase? Remus blinked a few times as he stared at the hole the other had just disappeared into. At least he hadn't lied when talking about it being not small on the inside. He just hoped that they were looked after well and not locked up in there.

His gaze turned to the Kappa again and he noticed that it had finally managed to right its head. It was clear that, for now, it wouldn't pose much of a thread. Though he still preferred it if it was off the street. He was about to reach in his pocket when he heard a sound akin to meowing. Quickly he glanced around, worried that there was another creature running around. Instead, he was able to just get a glimpse of something jumping out of the case. At least it confirmed that there were other creatures in there and they were, obviously, not locked up. Though he hoped it wasn't a natural occurrence for them to escape because that could be troublesome.

"Well, hello there," he said softly, crouching down to look at the animal. It was easy to recognise what it was, a kneazle. It looked like a cat but had the tail of a lion. They were brilliant beast and said to be able to recognise if someone was trustworthy. He'd always teased Sirius about it after Crookshanks helped him in 1993. Stating that it was obvious that Crookshanks was only half a kneazle if it considered Sirius trustworthy. Though he had to admit, the animal had been right to trust Sirius and distrust Ron's rat. Something practically the whole wizarding world, including him unfortunately, had been wrong about.

His soft smile turned a bit into a grimace. Sirius. He'd been dead for almost a year now but it still hurt to think about him. After everything they'd gone through, to lose him so quickly after they reunited. It left a huge hole in his heart.

A wet, rough feeling against his hand turned his attention back to the present. The kneazle was licking his hand, clearly not happy it wasn't having his undivided attention.

"Oh, my apologies. I should've known not to be distracted," he chuckled and patiently waited for the kneazle to continue licking him. Once it was done, he carefully reached out and started to pet it. Apparently, it was the right decision as it calmly sat there to enjoy the pets. Once in a while he glanced up, keeping an eye on the Kappa. But it seemed as if moving was too hard to do. It was staring at the fountain almost longingly.

"I do have a pond that it can stay in. It's not perfectly fitted for a Kappa but once I got a moment, I can give it some attention and improve it. But I do believe it's better than leaving it-Milly!" The man had started to talk. First it sounded far away but eventually his head stuck out of the case again. There he'd spotted Milly, what he assumed was the kneazle laying there as if they were royalty. He chuckled softly as he continued his petting duty. The man looked at the kneazle with an exasperated expression and he had to bite his lip not to laugh. Last thing he wanted was make it seem as if he was laughing at the man.

"Really now? First Teddy keeps getting out, now I have to worry about you too?" The man commented and held what looked like a staring contest with the kneazle. He had no idea who or what teddy was. But the image of the other running after all different type of creatures was an adorable one.

"Need some help with the Kappa? I got a cucumber? I can use a part to lure it towards the suitcase and you can lure it further in to it?" He asked, turning the attention back to the problem at hand. He noticed the surprised look he received but it quickly morphed into a smile and a nod.

"I think that's a good plan. Though we might need to add some water to his head, otherwise it won't be able to move. I think." Remus completely agreed with that sentiment. With a soft apology he stopped petting Milly and got the cucumber out of his jacket. He grabbed his wand and wrote his name on half of the cucumber.

"Why are you doing that?" Remus looked back at the question and found the other staring at his name. He shrugged a little.

"Well, the Kappa is originally from Japan. It is believed that if you write the name of a family member on a cucumber before sending it afloat, it will protect them from harm while swimming," he explained. He knew he was looking a bit embarrassed, cheeks heating up as he looked back at the cucumber. "Though right now I think we're the ones in need of protect so, I theorized, why not put my own name on it? Maybe it does nothing but, hey, what's the harm in it?"

He broke the cucumber in half and handed the part without a name to the stranger. He seemed to hesitate for a second before taking it. To his surprise, the other reached for his wand as well, following Remus his example. If nothing else came from it or if it did nothing at all, at least Remus learned the man's name. Newt. For some reason it suited him.

"Alright. Let me add some water to it then lure him towards you. Be ready," he said with a little nod and a last pet of Milly.

Carefully he moved towards the Kappa, half of the cucumber in his outstretched hand. It was clear that he got its full attention. The movements were slow but its head turned towards Remus. He raised his wand and softly whispered 'aguament'. He made sure he used small movements and as little force as possible. Not wanting the hit the creature with a water jet, but just a tiny sprinkle of water. Enough to make it move again.

He breathed out slowly as he watched it succeed. It was interesting to see the Kappa slowly becoming livelier. Getting up with clear movement towards the cucumber. Remus shuffled back until his shoe hit the suitcase. There he held the cucumber and waited patiently. Waited until the Kappa followed. Slowly moving it until it was above the suitcase. Once it got close enough, he let the creature have it. Carefully moving away to the other side of the suitcase as the Kappa devoured the snack. Once it was gone it looked up again. For a moment Remus was worried it would come after him. But then it seemed something distracted it. It was difficult to interpreted the movements of the creature. The movement of its head, the stalking slow steps it was taking. He wasn't certain what it meant. He held his breath, waited and watched. The Kappa moved forward and... Slowly entered the suitcase.

He released his breath and sat down on the ground, posture sagging in relieve. It worked! They managed to get the Kappa safe and away from the streets of Paris. It felt like a little win, even if it was pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things. A soft yelp left his lips as Milly decided she'd been patient enough. She'd jumped on his lap and if she had a face, she would've impatiently glared at him. He reached out and carefully started to pet her again.

He had no idea how long he sat there. But if he were to be honest, he didn't mind it one bit. After the hectic time he had the last while it was nice to take a moment to breath. Even if it was, literally, on the streets in Paris, of all places. He heard sounds coming from the suitcase. He couldn't place most of them, but it didn't sound as if Newt needed his help. It felt... intrusive to just enter the suitcase without permission. So, for now he stayed where he was.

Not long after, Milly jumped from his lap and stretched herself. Her huge, fluffy tail wacked softly against his leg a few times, making him chuckle. She took a few steps around the suitcase before entering it. He was intrigued by the kneazle. He knew they were considered smart. Had she heard Newt call out for her and agreed to come back? Had she decided to come back in on her own terms?

It wasn't long after that Newt reappeared.

"It will do! It seemed as if it was content being in the pond for now. Luckily, I got enough food to keep it calm and Dougal will keep an eye out for it," Newt explained as he was climbing out of his suitcase. Remus had no clue who, or maybe even what, a Dougal was but decided against asking for now. With a little groan he got up from the ground. Shivering a little as finally the cold that had seeped in through his clothes caught up with him. He watched Newt crouch down and close his suitcase again.

"Uhm, yeah. Well. So," Newt commented and it sounded like he wasn't the only one who didn't know how to proceed from here. He hesitated. But eventually decided to just quench his curiosity.

"I'm sorry I have to ask. Wh-"

"Newt! Your animal - creature - thing!" Suddenly a voice shouted from the entrance of the street they were standing in. He turned around and saw a man standing there. Hands on his knees, breathing heavily, pointing towards their left. The man looked remarkable like the man from the picture from Newt's suitcase. "Freddy? I think? It went that way!"

Before Remus had really a moment to register what was happening, he was almost pushed to the side. Frowning he turned around just in time to see Newt sprint at a surprising high speed by him. He couldn't help but to shake his head and chuckle. Newt apparently knew his creatures well and Freddy? Or was it Teddy? Had, in fact, escaped. Within moments Newt was around the corner and out of sight. Attention fully on the escaped creature.

"Hi! So sorry about that. That animal is a cutie but is really good at nicking all the gold and silver around! I've seen him do it!" The other man told him, between heavy puffs of breath. “Sorry, got to go or I'll lose them! Nice to meet you!"

Before Remus had a chance to reply the man had picked up speed again. He rushed forward and halted at the entrance of the street. To his left he saw the man disappear into another street. For a second, he hesitated. Should he follow? He didn't know either of them. Had nothing to do with their reasons of being in Paris. He sighed and decided against it. Maybe it was time he continued his own search as well.

@flufftober :)

[wisteria-lodge]

Have you sorted the Hogwarts Legacy companions at all?? I checked your master list and couldn’t find anything but I’m not sure if I’m just being blind 💀😂

So here's the thing.

(And your ask is super nice and in absolute good-faith, it's just also a good way of getting into this stuff.)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer is not Joss Whedon. House of Cards is not Kevin Spacey. But Harry Potter kinda is JK Rowling. She has an astounding and honestly pretty unique amount of both creative control and ownership over that property. The only other person I can think of who's even in the same category is George Lucas... before he sold it to Disney, obviously.

And JKR has written about how she interprets the royalty checks she gets as kind of tacit approval from the world, which makes sense because she's been also very public about how she spends those royalty checks to support anti-trans campaigners and legislation.

But. But. I get wanting to engage with the property. I mean, obviously. I'm going to tag this 'sortinghatchats.' The parent system is clearly HP, and the point of changing the terminology was never disguising that, it was more supposed to communicate that I am not engaging with the work or its creator uncritically. I think it's worked pretty well. I've gotten maybe one piece of anon hate calling me a terf? That's not bad.

I'm a teacher, and the place I work attracts a *lot* of LGBT students. Trans and non-binary especially. And they're interested in Harry Potter. They read a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction. They want to talk to me about Harry Potter, and about JK Rowling. I don't see this property fading away any time soon.

And like. I was a fan. I waited until midnight in a bookstore to get books 4, 5, 6 and 7. My Sibyl Trelawney came in second at the book 7 costume contest. Which was fine because the girl who won did the most perfect Hermione you've ever seen, and spent the whole time handing out SPEW badges and knitting house elf clothing.

Recently, I'm finding myself wanting to unpack this property as an adult. Maybe understand some of the biases I didn't pick up as a kid, maybe do right by some of my favorite characters. Because there's good stuff in there. How much was on accident versus on purpose, how much is the fandom interpreting the text in a specific way, how much is the films smoothing over issues... and creating different issues... I would like to work all that out.

And actually, when I started writing some Harry Potter fanfiction over the holidays, it came pouring out, and it felt *good.* Clearly I've got a lot of *stuff* that I want to examine and *put somewhere,* and for me, writing (ships that JKR doesn't like) was a fun and ethical way to do that. Maybe I'll even post it with a nice disclaimer.

So that's me. Fanfiction, fan side-projects, fan merch. I guess the argument against that would be "free advertising," but like - HP has so much just - actual advertising - and I'd like it if people who still wanted to engage with the property had somewhere else to go. So no Hogwarts Legacy for me, no Fantastic Beasts films, or HBO miniseries, or even Cormoran Strike books. (and people don't talk about this enough - but a big aspect of that series is essentially JKR writing a non-magic AU where she ships herself with Mad-Eye Moody. I have no idea what to do with this information, but now you have it too.)

I could see myself writing more about JKR or Harry Potter, once I've turned it over more in my mind and feel like I have something useful and new to say. But as it is, this is a snapshot of where I am.