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J.L. Hynde
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Another quick Harry Potter sketch for UDLTTOM. I was testing out a new drawing tablet so I wasn't too detailed this time.
#udlttom#harry potter#harry potter fanart#auror potter#udlttom character concept art#time travel au#tomarry fic
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UDLTTOM DIALOGUE DRAFT #99
Tom (to Harry): If the fates hadnât wanted me to commit fatherless behavior, they would given my mother better taste in men. So if youâll excuse me, Harry, I have places to beâ
Harry: No! Waitâ
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Thank you! Iâm glad you like them. Theyâre half finished thoughts, more of a first draft than anything. I usually start a Wip for the concept or premise & sometimes they get combined in one thing. I think I ended up combining these two Wips into another: You and I and the angles between. I think I have 3 chapters posted on AO3, but I havenât worked on that on in a while. Iâll link it though, in case you want to check it out.
đâ¨đâ¨đâ¨đâ¨â¨â¨â¨â¨đđâ¨đâ¨đđdeath you say?đâ¨đđâ¨đđđâ¨đâ¨đđđ⨠I love me some Death⢠â ď¸đťâ¨đđťâ ď¸đ any of the death relate titlesđđđâ¨đťđđâ¨â ď¸đđâ ď¸đâ¨â ď¸đâ¨â ď¸đđđťđâ¨đ
Excerpt from I Arose The Master of Death:
Tom warily eyed the Ravenclaw fifth-year perched upon an unused desk. Not daring to look anywhere else even when the door to this abandoned classroom locked behind him, even though the sound sent a spike of fear through him. He wasnât one to fear much of anything, except death. Dying had long since been Tomâs worst fear, that is until yesterday when Rosalie Dumont caught him coming out of the Chamber of Secrets.
Well, technically that other Ravenclaw third-year had seen me first, he reminded himself.
Her name was Mary-or-something, Tom couldnât be bothered with her. She was lying in the Hogwarts hospital ward unconscious like all the other victims before herâexcept not quite like all the other victims.
The rest were petrified.
But Maryâor maybe Margretteâwas dead. Or she had been dead. Had been visibly, unquestionably dead. Tom still remembered the cooling body under his fingers. He remembered the steely black eyes of full of derision and the growling hiss from Dumont:
âTom what have you done?â
It was the first time he had ever met another parselmouth. The shock of it more than anything is what kept him silent, but when he had regained his senses; had opened his mouth to askâto wonderâto demand answers her eyes met that of the basilisk lingering in the shadows of the opened entrance.
But unlike Martha, she didnât die. Nothing happened. Dumont was not petrified. Dumont was not killed. She wasnât even phased.
âLeave.â She hissed and to Tom utter confusion, wariness, the basilisk shrunk back leaving him alone.
It was unnatural. It was inhuman. She shouldâve died. Anyone else wouldâve died. Tom wouldâve died had he met the gaze of the great serpent. Why didnât she? Whywhywhywhywhy?
âWhat are you?â He had hissed injecting as much viciousness as he could into the words.
Ignoring him, Dumont's expression became placid, the sudden stillness sending a tingling sense of wrong wrong wrong to Tomâs mind. She ordered him to pick up the girl and follow her, her words carrying with them a strong compulsory impulse to obey before he even realized what he was doing.
And then that ritual. That faceless figure. The way it started at Tom. How it had come out of Dumontâs mouth like smoke and spoke with a bitter coolness.
âA hundred souls,â it had grinned gleefully with a mouthful of sticky black teeth. âA hundred souls or the boy or the girl. Thatâs the choice, darling...â
Tom had always feared death. But looking at Dumont perched so casually on the desk with one leg crossed over the other, her fathomless black eyes looking straight through him with an otherworldly perceptiveness, the Slytherin prefect wiselyâ if not rather grudginglyâ added another fear to the list.
Excerpt from Death and I:
Harry couldnât remember how he got here.
No.
That wasn't quite true...
He remembered with vivid clarity the moments leading up to this. He remembered entering the Forbidden Forest alone. He remembered the Death Eaters circling him in their black cloaks like shadows through the clearing of trees. He remembered how the way they moved reminded him horribly of the dementors from his third year at Hogwarts; gliding silently as specters on muffling charms their faces shrouded behind masks. He remembered how quiet the clearing was, how deathly silent, as if no one dared to even breathe orâ Merlin forbidâstep on a broken twig. Only Hagridâbless himâ had made any sound at his arrival, a shout of despair that had the half-giant struggling against his bonds fighting to get to Harry. The smell of soot and blood hung heavily in the air turning his stomach, and yet he couldnât muster up the energy to do anything about it. Not that the Death Eaters would have let him leave if he had tried. Harry remembered how his arms hung heavy and useless by his side, his wand in his pocket, how he felt this indescribable weight pushing on his shoulders, dragging on his feet, keeping him firmly standing in place while every thought, every animalistic instinct of self preservation told him to flee, to fight, to do something.
He was Harry Potter.
He was the Boy-Who-Lived.
He was the boy who survived years of abuse and neglect at the hands of the Dursleys.
He was the boy who faced off against Lord Voldemort and his followers year after year while attending Hogwarts.
He was the boy who defeated a Basilisk when he was just twelve years old and faced off against dragons and dementors and Dark Wizards aplenty and lived to tell the tale.
Harry Potter was a survivor.
He was a fighter emboldened by the admirably reckless bravery of all Gryffindors.
And yetâŚ
...And yet Harry was tired.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of death and killing.
Tired of the war.
He was tired of struggling to survive.
What had being the Boy-Who-Lived ever done for him?
What has surviving ever done, but made his life harder?
But foolishly, Harry knew that he had always held onto that hope that things would get better. That one day his lot in life would improve. Many times he could have thrown in the towel and called it quits. Many times he could have just given up and died as the world was so determined to kill him.
But he hadnât.
He had pushed on, soldiered through it, by the bare skin of his teeth and for what?
For this?
What even was this?
There was nothing left. Everyone was dead. Remus, Tonks, Fred, Professor Snape, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey, Sirius, Dobby, Cedric...so many peopleâmore people than he likely knew, their bodies lining the floor of the crumbling Great Hall âand for what?
For him?
For Dumbledore schemes?
For the greater good?
What even is the greater good?
What is the point of all of this if it was just going to lead back to this moment, to Harry alone, alone and so tired, so weary of this war that he has given everything to: his childhood, his family, his friends, teachers, mentors, people he loved, and people he didnât but who loved him in their own way?
He had given everything!
Everything but his lifeâ
But nowâŚ
...Now it looks as if he would have to give that up too.
Harry was the last one. The last horcrux. He alone was the only thing keeping Lord Voldemort tethered to the world of the living and the Dark Wizard didnât even know it.
He remembered Lord Voldemort, his body and mind horribly disfigured and warped by the dark magic he practiced, grinning viciously at his own victory. Finally he was going to kill the Boy-Who-Lived. Finally he was going to destroy the one thing that could destroy him, not realizing that in truth Harry had done next to nothing to destroy the man before him. The boy Tom Riddle had destroyed himself long before Harry was ever born, cleaving his soul in pieces, delving into magics that were untamable and all consuming that devoured him and turning himself into the snake-like creature before him.
Harry remembered the wizard asking him if he had any last words. Not that he cared, Harry imagined, but that he asked only for the purpose of drawing it out, of savoring his victory. It was a hollow victory in truth as much as it was a hollow defeat for Harry.
There was no point to any of this.
It was justâŚ
âŚ
Inevitable.
He believed the muggle band Oingo Boingo said it best, âNo one lives forever, thatâs just the way it goes.â And after Harry was gone, death would come for Tom Riddle just as it came for all living things.
Harry doesnât really remember what he said. What his final words were. Perhaps he didnât say anything at all. Perhaps he only thought about it. But it didnât matter in the end when the Dark Lord casted the killing curse and this time there was no Lily Potter to stand in the way, no loving sacrifice to protect him, there was just him.
Just Harry.
The son of James Potter and Lily Evans.
The Boy-Who-Lived.
The savior of the wizarding world.
Tom Riddleâs last horcrux.
Albus Dumbledoreâs sacrificial lamb.
The green flash filled his visionâŚ
And then he died.
Quietly, willingly, without a soundâŚ
Or at leastâŚ
Thatâs what was supposed to happen.
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đâ¨đâ¨đâ¨đâ¨â¨â¨â¨â¨đđâ¨đâ¨đđdeath you say?đâ¨đđâ¨đđđâ¨đâ¨đđđ⨠I love me some Death⢠â ď¸đťâ¨đđťâ ď¸đ any of the death relate titlesđđđâ¨đťđđâ¨â ď¸đđâ ď¸đâ¨â ď¸đâ¨â ď¸đđđťđâ¨đ
Excerpt from I Arose The Master of Death:
Tom warily eyed the Ravenclaw fifth-year perched upon an unused desk. Not daring to look anywhere else even when the door to this abandoned classroom locked behind him, even though the sound sent a spike of fear through him. He wasnât one to fear much of anything, except death. Dying had long since been Tomâs worst fear, that is until yesterday when Rosalie Dumont caught him coming out of the Chamber of Secrets.
Well, technically that other Ravenclaw third-year had seen me first, he reminded himself.
Her name was Mary-or-something, Tom couldnât be bothered with her. She was lying in the Hogwarts hospital ward unconscious like all the other victims before herâexcept not quite like all the other victims.
The rest were petrified.
But Maryâor maybe Margretteâwas dead. Or she had been dead. Had been visibly, unquestionably dead. Tom still remembered the cooling body under his fingers. He remembered the steely black eyes of full of derision and the growling hiss from Dumont:
âTom what have you done?â
It was the first time he had ever met another parselmouth. The shock of it more than anything is what kept him silent, but when he had regained his senses; had opened his mouth to askâto wonderâto demand answers her eyes met that of the basilisk lingering in the shadows of the opened entrance.
But unlike Martha, she didnât die. Nothing happened. Dumont was not petrified. Dumont was not killed. She wasnât even phased.
âLeave.â She hissed and to Tom utter confusion, wariness, the basilisk shrunk back leaving him alone.
It was unnatural. It was inhuman. She shouldâve died. Anyone else wouldâve died. Tom wouldâve died had he met the gaze of the great serpent. Why didnât she? Whywhywhywhywhy?
âWhat are you?â He had hissed injecting as much viciousness as he could into the words.
Ignoring him, Dumont's expression became placid, the sudden stillness sending a tingling sense of wrong wrong wrong to Tomâs mind. She ordered him to pick up the girl and follow her, her words carrying with them a strong compulsory impulse to obey before he even realized what he was doing.
And then that ritual. That faceless figure. The way it started at Tom. How it had come out of Dumontâs mouth like smoke and spoke with a bitter coolness.
âA hundred souls,â it had grinned gleefully with a mouthful of sticky black teeth. âA hundred souls or the boy or the girl. Thatâs the choice, darling...â
Tom had always feared death. But looking at Dumont perched so casually on the desk with one leg crossed over the other, her fathomless black eyes looking straight through him with an otherworldly perceptiveness, the Slytherin prefect wiselyâ if not rather grudginglyâ added another fear to the list.
Excerpt from Death and I:
Harry couldnât remember how he got here.
No.
That wasn't quite true...
He remembered with vivid clarity the moments leading up to this. He remembered entering the Forbidden Forest alone. He remembered the Death Eaters circling him in their black cloaks like shadows through the clearing of trees. He remembered how the way they moved reminded him horribly of the dementors from his third year at Hogwarts; gliding silently as specters on muffling charms their faces shrouded behind masks. He remembered how quiet the clearing was, how deathly silent, as if no one dared to even breathe orâ Merlin forbidâstep on a broken twig. Only Hagridâbless himâ had made any sound at his arrival, a shout of despair that had the half-giant struggling against his bonds fighting to get to Harry. The smell of soot and blood hung heavily in the air turning his stomach, and yet he couldnât muster up the energy to do anything about it. Not that the Death Eaters would have let him leave if he had tried. Harry remembered how his arms hung heavy and useless by his side, his wand in his pocket, how he felt this indescribable weight pushing on his shoulders, dragging on his feet, keeping him firmly standing in place while every thought, every animalistic instinct of self preservation told him to flee, to fight, to do something.
He was Harry Potter.
He was the Boy-Who-Lived.
He was the boy who survived years of abuse and neglect at the hands of the Dursleys.
He was the boy who faced off against Lord Voldemort and his followers year after year while attending Hogwarts.
He was the boy who defeated a Basilisk when he was just twelve years old and faced off against dragons and dementors and Dark Wizards aplenty and lived to tell the tale.
Harry Potter was a survivor.
He was a fighter emboldened by the admirably reckless bravery of all Gryffindors.
And yetâŚ
...And yet Harry was tired.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of death and killing.
Tired of the war.
He was tired of struggling to survive.
What had being the Boy-Who-Lived ever done for him?
What has surviving ever done, but made his life harder?
But foolishly, Harry knew that he had always held onto that hope that things would get better. That one day his lot in life would improve. Many times he could have thrown in the towel and called it quits. Many times he could have just given up and died as the world was so determined to kill him.
But he hadnât.
He had pushed on, soldiered through it, by the bare skin of his teeth and for what?
For this?
What even was this?
There was nothing left. Everyone was dead. Remus, Tonks, Fred, Professor Snape, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey, Sirius, Dobby, Cedric...so many peopleâmore people than he likely knew, their bodies lining the floor of the crumbling Great Hall âand for what?
For him?
For Dumbledore schemes?
For the greater good?
What even is the greater good?
What is the point of all of this if it was just going to lead back to this moment, to Harry alone, alone and so tired, so weary of this war that he has given everything to: his childhood, his family, his friends, teachers, mentors, people he loved, and people he didnât but who loved him in their own way?
He had given everything!
Everything but his lifeâ
But nowâŚ
...Now it looks as if he would have to give that up too.
Harry was the last one. The last horcrux. He alone was the only thing keeping Lord Voldemort tethered to the world of the living and the Dark Wizard didnât even know it.
He remembered Lord Voldemort, his body and mind horribly disfigured and warped by the dark magic he practiced, grinning viciously at his own victory. Finally he was going to kill the Boy-Who-Lived. Finally he was going to destroy the one thing that could destroy him, not realizing that in truth Harry had done next to nothing to destroy the man before him. The boy Tom Riddle had destroyed himself long before Harry was ever born, cleaving his soul in pieces, delving into magics that were untamable and all consuming that devoured him and turning himself into the snake-like creature before him.
Harry remembered the wizard asking him if he had any last words. Not that he cared, Harry imagined, but that he asked only for the purpose of drawing it out, of savoring his victory. It was a hollow victory in truth as much as it was a hollow defeat for Harry.
There was no point to any of this.
It was justâŚ
âŚ
Inevitable.
He believed the muggle band Oingo Boingo said it best, âNo one lives forever, thatâs just the way it goes.â And after Harry was gone, death would come for Tom Riddle just as it came for all living things.
Harry doesnât really remember what he said. What his final words were. Perhaps he didnât say anything at all. Perhaps he only thought about it. But it didnât matter in the end when the Dark Lord casted the killing curse and this time there was no Lily Potter to stand in the way, no loving sacrifice to protect him, there was just him.
Just Harry.
The son of James Potter and Lily Evans.
The Boy-Who-Lived.
The savior of the wizarding world.
Tom Riddleâs last horcrux.
Albus Dumbledoreâs sacrificial lamb.
The green flash filled his visionâŚ
And then he died.
Quietly, willingly, without a soundâŚ
Or at leastâŚ
Thatâs what was supposed to happen.
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I took screenshots cause I canât do all that typing rn. & also Iâm keeping it strictly Harry Potter related or otherwise weâd be here all day. The amount of WIPs I have is concerning. Iâm a hoarder đ
I might tag people later. Right now Iâm blanking on names đ
WIP TAG
Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
In no particular order (im making them up as i go down the list)
1Slutherin Rarry (they arent actually sluts sorry)
2 Sev vs the lesbians (and sev vs the lesbians the next generation!)
3 Ch-ch-ch-ch-changlings (their time stays the same)
4 when the day met the night (when the sun found the moon)
5 Death becomes Her (Literally kinda?)
6 Shes Beauty (and Shes grace, theyre kissing)
7 Lions and Tigers and Naga oh my
8 Harry's Beautiful Boys (septuplets)
9 The Daddy kink one
10 All about that Howl
11 Ride (back it up)
@toast-ranger-to-a-stranger @isalisewrites @itsevanffs @kippie @batlovestomarry @st-lady @aglassroseneverfades @jlhynde-insanitybrilliance @loneamaryllis @flourdove @wrenbirde
#reblog#harry potter#harry potter fanfic#wips#tomarry#this is a drop in the ocean guys#I have so many more wips than this#Harry Potter wips
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Another ASOIAF meme đ
Elia Martell was described as a gentle person, but at the end of the day she was still Dornish.
#asoiaf#rhaegar targaryen#elia martell#asoiaf meme#a stupid video I saw tha made me think of these two characters#game of thrones
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UDLTTOM DIALOGUE DRAFT #98
? (Holding Cygnus Black & Druella at wand point): W-Why did you just throw cold coffee at me?
Teddy Lupin (holding empty coffee pot): I thought it was hotâŚ
Druella (being a supportive great-grandma): Itâs okay, Teddy, donât worry about it.
Cygnus (being a supportive great-grandpa): I like where your headâs at kid, that mightâve really worked out.
#udlttom#harry potter#tomarry#time travel au#tomarry fanfic#dialogue draft#cygnus black#druella rosier#teddy lupin#Nice Guys reference
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By popular demand: This has now become a WIP!
I donât have a title yet, but the working title is âBeware the Groundskeeperâ. (Changed it from janitor cause I guess janitor arenât a word in Britain??) Idk if Iâll keep that though might come up with something better. I got the 1st lil chunk done though, think of it like a summary!
Tom knew the first time he met Mr. Harry at eleven years old that he was full of shite.
It was September First, Nineteen-Thirty-Seven, when he was ushered off the Hogwarts Express at Hogsmeade station and lead to the boats at the Black Lake that would take them up to the school that he knew in his bones that there was something not right with the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. It was a gut feeling. Something primordial. A leftover and long forgotten survival instinct from some simian ancestor that told him not to trust that wide friendly smile or those vivid green eyes no matter how kind they first appeared.
The other childrenâsimpletons all of themâ had followed dumbly along putting their blind faith in the man. But not Tom. Oh no. He had lingered at the back of the procession as if he were trailing a funeral march; whilst the whole time eyeing the back of the manâs head. And when Mr. Harry had turned and instructed them to get into the boats, Tom had hesitated.
That had been his worst mistake. The unforgivable one. For if he had not hesitated, Tom mightâve passed by the man unnoticed. But it was that hesitation, that momentary paralysis, that fear which caught the attention of the Beast.
He remembers vividly how Mr. Harryâs head turned, a quick whip-snapping motion, and zeroed in on him lingering on shore. And to Tomâs credit, he didnât cower when the groundskeeper approached him, crouching down so he could meet his eyeline, and offered to help him into the boat. Tom had rudely refused any assistance and clambered aboard himself in an attempt to put as much distance between them as possible.
It didnât work because that had been the last boat. And Tom, stupidly, had been the last one aboard except for the groundskeeper. Mr. Harry had pushed them off and jumped in behind Tom, rocking them roughly as he settled down onto the last bench, humming a jaunty tune. He had made some crack about keeping all limbs and bodies inside the vessel or âthe giant squid might eat ya, if the Merrows donât getcha first.â
âSquoids donât live in lakes,â Tom had scoffed, âFey need soltwoter.â
âGeoffreyâs a special squid, yaâknow. Bred him myself,â the groundskeeper retorted. âHe doesnât need soltwoter. He only needs the salt of childrensâ tears and a few blood sacrifices.â
âWot?!â
âRelax, we only ever give him naughty children. Iâm sure the lot of yaâ are perfect sweet angelsââ The other children, a boy who ended up in Gyrffindor and two girls who went to Hufflepuff, had laughed. Like it was a joke. But Tom knew it was a warning. Pointed, in fact, pointed directly at him.
Had that Professor Dumblebore told him something about him? He suspected he had. And years later, Tom became sure of it. For why else would he pick him out of a hundred or so kids?
Mr. Harry didnât end up feeding him to the squid, however, not even after what had happened with Myrtle Warren when it wouldâve been arguably justified. Instead, from that moment on, Mr. Harry the groundskeeper had endeavored to make his life a living hell at every opportunity.
And he had continued for thirty years onwards.
Hereâs another Tomarrymort fic prompt no one asked for:
Imagine a Professor Riddle/Voldemort AU in which MOD Harry is impersonating a squib working at Hogwarts (think Filch). & they meet when Tom is a 1st year & over time Tom becomes convinced that Harry is not a squib at all but some sort of immortal eldritch being impersonating a janitor. Because how tf has he not aged since he was a child? How does he seem to know everything about everyone? How does he keep messing up all his plans?!
I picture Harry having a similar vibe from the janitor from Scrubs. Just so casually putting a wrench in every one of Tomâs schemes just for shits and giggles. & Tom is just obsessed with him & proving that heâs not human dammit!
Professor Riddle (to Harry):
Harry (to Tom):
#hp fandom#hp fanfic#tomarrymort#tomarry#tom riddle#harry potter#MOD harry potter#dark comedy#Tom POV
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Looks like a fun game @2sidesofthesamesoul ! Iâll play.
My name means Laughter so my vibes looks real cozy & warm. Thereâs a sort of rose-tinted hue to all these photos that I really like.
Idk who to tag, so Iâll just take the last few people to like my posts.
Feel free to reblog: @xysidhe @sun-r-a @tohru-n @craveing
Pinterest Game: type your name + "core" and use 6 of those photos
thank u @tommarvoloriddlesdiary for the tag it was fun to make!!
my vibe really is just all the different shades of green!
tagging (if you'd like): @andrigyn @janomeh @speakingmoons @boochan @delineate-creates @riddlemeharder @isometimeswrite @semina-art @jlhynde-insanitybrilliance
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@Doobiedummy Yes! Yes! Please! Tom being a feral thing & Harry being oddly flattered & attracted to it! Give me more of that!
I also really like Harry attracting Tom with Dilf energy by being genuinely a supportive & paternal role model & healing that childhood wound of rejection from his father.
Tell me your favorite tomarry/harrymort/etc tropes
Ill go first
I love vee walking around as "gaunt", fooling everyone including harry, especially harry
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Hereâs another Tomarrymort fic prompt no one asked for:
Imagine a Professor Riddle/Voldemort AU in which MOD Harry is impersonating a squib working at Hogwarts (think Filch). & they meet when Tom is a 1st year & over time Tom becomes convinced that Harry is not a squib at all but some sort of immortal eldritch being impersonating a janitor. Because how tf has he not aged since he was a child? How does he seem to know everything about everyone? How does he keep messing up all his plans?!
I picture Harry having a similar vibe from the janitor from Scrubs. Just so casually putting a wrench in every one of Tomâs schemes just for shits and giggles. & Tom is just obsessed with him & proving that heâs not human dammit!
Professor Riddle (to Harry):
Harry (to Tom):
#harry potter#tomarry#time travel au#tom riddle#tomarry fanfic#tomarrymort#fic idea#I want to read this but I also sort of want to write it#it would be so funny
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I think Iâm somewhere in the area of 400k over the last 13 years. But that doesnât include the dozens of fics in my drafts that havenât been posted online.
Just checked my Ao3 stats and turns out Iâve posted over 200k words since I created my account (almost a decade ago) so now Iâm curious
Reblog and put in the tags how many words youâve posted, and how long youve been posting for!
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đ đ đ
The face filters!!! Iâm dead. Deceased. I want to watch all 7 movies with this face filter! This is what social media was made for đ đ
#harry potter#face filters#hp fandom#funny#I rewatched this like 6 times each time itâs funnier#Professor McGonagall at the end is when you accidentally set yourself with the camera flipped the wrong way around
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Anyway, seeing people brush off the blatant emotional and mental abuse he went through simply because it âwasnât physicalâ (abuse comes in many forms, just because he wasnât abused in âthat wayâ doesnât mean he wasnât abused in âthis wayâ)
This đ. As someone who went through a similar emotional abuse with a parent, I feel like this sort of mental torment is so minimized by people. In a way I think itâs more damaging in the long term than if you just got hit. Bruises heal & everyone seems to understand that physical abuse is wrong on some subconscious level, but the doublespeak most emotional abusers do that make you question your own perception of reality gets deep into your subconscious & often you find yourself rationalizing it years after itâs all over trying to convince yourself it wasnât that bad.
It is an interesting parallel between Harry and Sirius though. That they boy suffered similar kinds of emotional abuse. And how two different people learned to deal with it.
can you show me where in the books it implies/says that sirius was abused? /gen I honestly don't remember, all I recall is him saying his mother didn't like that he was in gryffindor and not a blood purist etc and they fought often bc of it.
Allow me:
â¨Kreacher bowed again and said, âWhatever Master says,â then muttered furiously, âMaster is not fit to wipe slime from his motherâs boots, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was ââ (OOTP, Chapter 6) â¨Â â¨âLeave?â Sirius smiled bitterly and ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair. âBecause I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal . . . my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them . . . thatâs him.â
âHe was younger than me,â said Sirius, âand a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.â (OOTP Chapter 6) (Being consistently reminded that your younger brother is so much better than you because heâs a pureblood supremacist? Ouch)â¨â¨â¨âIt was my fatherâs,â said Sirius, throwing the ring into the sack. âKreacher wasnât quite as devoted to him as to my mother, but I still caught him snogging a pair of my fatherâs old trousers last week.â (OOTP Chapter 4) â¨
âHeâs [Kreacher] been alone too long,â said Sirius, âtaking mad orders from my motherâs portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little ââ (Sirius about Kreacher, OOTP Chapter 6)Â
â¨Â âI donât know,â said Sirius, âI havenât seen anyone from the Order all weekend, theyâre all busy. Itâs just been Kreacher and me here . . .â â¨There was a definite note of bitterness in Siriusâs voice. (OOTP Chapter 14) â¨â¨Hasnât anyone told you? This was my parentsâ house,â said Sirius. âBut Iâm the last Black left, so itâs mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters â about the only useful thing Iâve been able to do.â â¨Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Siriusâs voice sounded. (Chapter 5)â¨â¨Sirius heaved another great sigh, cast a dark look at the tapestry, and he and Harry went to join the others. (Chapter 6) â¨â¨âI donât like being back here,â he said, staring across the drawing room. âI never thought Iâd be stuck in this house again.â (Sirius, OOTP Chapter 6)â¨
I mentioned Siriusâs mental state and bitterness a lot here because I donât have a doubt that being stuck in his childhood home where he was clearly very âmistreatedâ made it much harder for him. He showed blatant signs of alcoholism, depression, and PTSD. Many people brush this off as him âbeing moody that heâs being quarantined and therefore acting out in childish and frustrating ways,â which is true, but I think itâs seriously (no pun intended) disregarding of what he was going through. This happens to be the book where Sirius annoys me the absolute most, and while I donât think having gone through something like that justifies your later behaviour; I really try to understand and sympathise with what he went through and how he acted because of it. He spent a majority of his life being trapped: being trapped in his parentsâ house as a kid/teen (where he later ran away), being framed and wrongfully sent to Azkaban for over a decade (where he escaped), escaping Azkaban only to be forced to stay at his parentsâ home, and then having the only time he left the house resulting in getting murdered in front of his godson. đ
Anyway, seeing people brush off the blatant emotional and mental abuse he went through simply because it âwasnât physicalâ (abuse comes in many forms, just because he wasnât abused in âthat wayâ doesnât mean he wasnât abused in âthis wayâ) or because they donât like him is extremely disgusting. Especially considering that I not only went through something extremely similar with my mother when I was a kid, but because the Snapedom has to constantly ask of Snape antis to merely not dismiss the fact that Snape was abused. You cannot criticise the Marauders fandom for doing things like that and simultaneously doing the same thing to the characters you hate. Double standards as a whole infuriate me, no matter which âsideâ of the fandom Iâm on. If you have a rule, stick with it.
All of the quotes Iâve mentioned are from Order of the Phoenix, I just added the chapters. Iâve had these saved in Notes in case I needed to whip out receipts for arguments. But thank you for your question, Nonnie, Iâve been meaning to talk about this.
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#tom and Harry as childhood best friends #plot twist Tom is the one who wrote all about Harry & Harry the himbo wrote about his new friend Ron #Tom his jealous & plotting to get rid of the usurper #Harry doesnât even realize Tom is mad until a few months later #When Harry explains why he wrote about Ron instead of Tom he says itâs because Tom is his family and Ron is his friend #Tom is less mad now but he still wants to get rid of Ron
#tom and harry as childhood best friends#tomarry#harry potter#tom riddle#childhood best friends trope#Ron better sleep with one eye open
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UDLTTOM DIALOGUE DRAFT #97
Theodore & Tom: Harry fix your face!
Harryâs face:
#udlttom#tomarry#harry potter#time travel au#tom riddle#tomarry fanfic#udlttom shitposts#theodore nott#Harry has an inability to keep a straight face
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I think for me the thing that will make me back out of a fic the quickest is poor formatting. Like no spacing between paragraphs in particular. Because when your dyslexic & thereâs no spacing between paragraphs my vision will literally start swimming. Like I physically cannot read it without an instant migraine.
Like it doesnât matter how good the writing is, how good the plot, if the formatting is bad Iâm out.
As someone whoâs been reading fan fiction since they were thirteen donât judge me lol. Iâm curious what are the icks or toxic traits you have as a reader or even an author?
For me itâs that if a fic has hundreds of thousands of hits and kudos and comments. Maybe I should clarify? What I mean is that it can have a large amount of traction/popularity. But if the plot elements, characterization, storytelling, writing style (grammar, mechanics, syntax, formatting, etc) arenât what I expected or envisioned I stop reading it altogether. Not all fics of course just some again itâs probably personal preference. Or if they donât world build their story and throw everything into the first chapter and donât flesh it out Iâm sorry but Iâll drop it. I hate to do it but I must plus it hurts more when itâs your fave ship and the plots seems incredible and intriguing đ.
So what are yours? Again no hateful comments or bashing or disrespect towards the authors or fandoms. This is just out of curiosity.
#fanfic#fanfiction#ao3#fanfic writing#fanfic reader problems#consider people with processing disabilities when formatting your fics#seriously poor formatting has stopped me from reading so many interesting fics
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