i. about 2 weeks ago, i was told there's a good chance that in 5 or so years, i'll need a wheelchair.
ii. okay. i loved harry potter as a kid. i have a hypothesis about this to be honest - why people still kind of like it. it's that she got very lucky. she managed to make a cross-generational hit. it was something shared for both parents and kids. it was right at the start of a huge cultural shift from pre to post-internet. i genuinely think many people were just seeking community; not her writing. it was a nice shorthand to create connection. which is a long way of saying - she didn't build this legacy, we built it for her. she got lucky, just once. that's all.
iii. to be real with you, i still struggle with identifying as someone with a disability, which is wild, especially given the ways my life has changed. i always come up against internalized ableism and shame - convinced even right now that i'm faking it for attention. i passed out in a grocery store recently. i hit my head on the shelves while i went down.
iv. he raises his eyebrows while he sends me a look. her most recent new book has POTS featured in it. okay, i say. i already don't like where this is going. we both take another bite of ramen. it is a trait of the villain, he says. we both roll our eyes about it.
v. so one of the things about being nonbinary but previously super into harry potter is that i super hate jk rowling. but it is also not good for my mental health to regret any form of joy i engaged with as a kid. i can't punish my young self for being so into the books - it was a passion, and it was how i made most of my friends. everyone knew about it. i felt like everyone had my same joy, my same fixation. as a "weird kid", this sense of belonging resonated with me so loudly that i would have done anything to protect it.
vi. as a present, my parents once took me out of school to go see the second movie. it is an incredibly precious memory: my mom straight-up lying about a dentist appointment. us snickering and sneaking into the weekday matinee. within seven years of this experience, the internet would be a necessity to get my homework finished. the world had permanently changed. harry potter was a relic, a way any of us could hold onto something of the analog.
vii. by sheer luck, the year that i started figuring out the whole gender fluid thing was also the first year people started to point out that she might have some internalized biases. i remember tumblr before that; how often her name was treated as godhood. how harry potter was kind of a word synonymous for "nerdy but cool." i would walk out of that year tasting he/him and they/them; she would walk out snarling and snapping about it.
viii. when i teach older kids creative writing, i usually tell them - so, she did change the face of young adult fiction, there's no denying that. she had a lot more opportunities than many of us will - there were more publishing houses, less push for "virally" popular content creators. but beyond reading another book, we need to write more books. we need to uplift the voices of those who remain unrepresented. we need to push for an exposure to the bigotry baked into the publishing system. and i promise you: you can write better than she ever did. nothing she did was what was magical - it was the way that the community responded to it.
ix. i get home from ramen. three other people have screenshotted the POTS thing and sent it to me. can you fucking believe we're still hearing this shit from her when it's almost twenty-fucking-twenty-three. the villain is notably also popular on tumblr. i just think that's funny. this woman is a billionaire and she's mad that she can't control the opinions of some people on a dying blue site that makes no money. lady, and i mean this - get a fucking life.
x. i am sorry to the kid i was. maybe the kid you were too. none of us deserved to see something like this ruined. that thing used to be precious to me. and now - all those good times; measured into dust.
/// 9.6.2022 // FUCKING AGAIN, JK? Are you fucking kidding me?
6K notes
·
View notes
This spicy fic is brought to you by the meme post by @notallsandmen , my tags on that post, and feral post-midnight hyperfocus.
[At OP's request, I'm putting the two CWs before the cut as well. The 1st one is Hob suffering (in a good way) because of slutty!Dream, and the 2nd is piss kink. 😌]
--
"Dream."
Hob's boyfriend, the horny anthropomorphic bastard, just hums around him inquisitively and Hob has to clutch at the sheets. He literally just came a minute ago and he still feels a little overstimulated. "Darling, really, I need to go to class."
A shake of the head, with Dream stubbornly looking away from him. His tongue laps at the underside of Hob's cock. A really persuasive argument in Hob's opinion, but... "Look. I know you don't even need to breathe down there, but some of us still need to perform basic human bodily functions and--oh, fuck--"
Dream has started bobbing his head up and down again in protest, eyes now glaring balefully at Hob. The clutch of his mouth is so good and wet, his throat tight but greedy, and Hob is the one losing the battle here. Has been losing both the battle and the war, actually. (He doesn't really mind all that much.)
"Look, please, if you won't let me go to class, then at least let me go to the bathroom to pee." Even to his own ears, Hob sounds desperate. That's because he is, at this point. Dream had been on him since early last night, simply vanishing Hob's clothes when Hob protested that he literally just got home and has yet to put down his keys.
It was so hot, seeing Dream so desperate and hungry for his cock, but their play has also never lasted this long. It must be going close to ten hours by now, and Hob is going to get urinary tract infection if he persists on holding back his pee.
And yes, he's not exactly gonna die of it, but he'd really rather not experience the discomfort.
"No."
The answer came from the room itself in Dream's voice. Hob jumped a little. It felt like being in a movie theater, surrounded by the sound of the actors' voices, instead of the their voices coming from a single direction.
(Thank god he managed to hold his pee back from that jumpscare.)
"So you can speak when your mouth is full, but you're just choosing not to," Hob concludes, brushing his silly (sexy) boyfriend's hair away from his lovely face. Dream smiles smugly, or at least, as smugly as he could, with his spit shiny pink lips still wrapped around Hob's cock.
Hob sighs. "Tell me what to do then. You don't want me to go to class, fine. I'll call in sick. You want to warm my cock forever, wonderful." Dream purrs at Hob's approval of his current course of action, and the vibration travels down to the very center of Hob's body. Hob grits his teeth and tries to breathe through it. How many times has he come since last night? How many times has he come in his sleep?
Christ, it's all so ridiculous, but Hob is so stupidly in love with this impossible being between his legs that he finds even being used past the point when his balls are empty to be arousing.
"But, jesus fuck, stop deepthroating me for a second. I'm trying to have a...ah! A conversation with you here. What about my pesky biological needs? Any plans for that?"
Dream shrugs. "Let go." The sound came from the room again and not from Dream's lips.
"I beg your pardon?" Hob did not wheeze out. No, he has more dignity than that. And no, surely Dream does not mean what Hob thinks he means.
Dream huffs through his nose and sends a vision to him, an image of Dream on his front, in bed, mouth wrapped around Hob's cock, as the Hob in the vision bites his lips, a look of concentration on his face, hips and thighs twitching a little. The Dream in the vision starts sucking, and Hob saw a little trickle of watery liquid, definitely not cum, spill a little from Dream's lips.
Fuck. "You want me to..." Hob gulps. His cock twitches inside Dream's mouth. Never mind that for now. Does Dream really...Is he really asking Hob to..?
Dream rolls his eyes at him and surfaces from his deepthroat to lick at Hob's cockhead, the tip of his tongue tense and lapping at the slit on the tip of Hob's cock.
Hob curses. "Do you really want me to--fuck, Dream--calm down for a second--"
Dream ignores him and only holds on to his thighs harder, nails digging in, eyes alight with mischief and hunger both.
Hob feels like he's slowly going insane. He curses Dream a bit in his head, his depraved, diabolical, insatiable little sex kitten, and slowly lets go.
Dream, kinky bastard that he is, seals his mouth around Hob as soon as he feels Hob obeying his order and, eyes twinkling in amusement, starts drinking.
Fuck. It shouldn't be so hot watching his boyfriend drinking not only his cum but also his piss.
"Who would've known you'd be a little piss slut, huh?" Hob asks him breathlessly, fondly, still going, still feeling goddamn strange to be pissing while in bed after more than 600 years of doing it somewhere else, like a normal, civilized human, and thrusts his hips a little.
Dream moans and goes down on him deeper, one hand reaching down so he could jack himself off. You would think he was a man dying of thirst in the desert the way he's gulping Hob's piss down.
"And to think you're usually so prim and proper," Hob continues. He knows Dream loves it when Hob talks dirty, and frankly, Hob likes the pretty shade of red that spreads from Dream's face down to his lovely chest when he internalizes Hob's words. "Probably should bring you to school with me and use you whenever as my personal urinal."
Dream chokes on his moan at Hob's words and a little trickle of piss escapes from his mouth. He is quick to rectify his mistake by sealing his lips even tighter around Hob's cock and going even deeper.
"Fuck, of course you'd like that," Hob says, panting, shaking his head. He was beginning to trickle off, the worst of the pressure relieved, but he still has some left in him. "Tell me, Dream of the Endless, would you rather drink my piss just like you're doing now, or should I piss in your hole and plug you up so you could squirt everything out when we get home?"
Dream comes with a little muffled shout, a hint of teeth grazing against Hob's cock as his throat works on drinking down the last of Hob's piss.
Hob sighs and falls against the headboard, relieved that at least that's over with. He was about to pry Dream off him so he could get out of bed and cook them up some breakfast, but then Dream whines, mouth still around his cock. He still looks needy, so helplessly horny, squirming against the sheets and sucking on Hob's cock again.
Hob makes a noise that was a mix between a bark of laughter and a whine. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" he asks the ceiling. "Am I, at some point in my immortal life, going to get my cock back?"
Dream's refusal to answer that has Hob groaning into his hands.
"Fine. Fine. One more hour. I'll call the department in the meantime, and if you want some pancakes, you're not gonna act like an enthusiastic slut when I'm on the line."
Dream hums happily around him.
Hob is very not looking forward to calling in sick. He looks at Dream suspiciously. Dream looks innocently back up at him.
Yeah, no. Hob is just gonna send an email both to the department and his students.
--
"Good, darling?"
It has been literal hours since this morning, and Hob had only gotten his cock back around lunchtime, when his stomach growled so loudly that Dream whined in distress, probably remembering a starving Hob back in the 1600s.
Good old 1600s Hob, saving present day Hob 333 years later.
"Yes," Dream says, a bit of honey still on his lips. He has a plate of pancakes in front of him piled high with berries and drizzled liberally with honey. He looks like the cat that got the cream, caught the canary, and terrorized an entire village. "The pancakes are excellent, and I am looking forward to coming with you when you go to work so I can serve as your personal urinal. Shall we start tomorrow?"
Hob groans and bonks his head against the dining table. Maybe he should just fake his death a little earlier than usual this time.
57 notes
·
View notes