(She/her/hers) My kids say I have an obsession with British stuff. Suffice to say my ships are all British in some way so I guess they’re right. Regency romance, Harry Potter, canonships, #hinny, #jily, Days of Our lives- Classic 80’s super couples Kim&Shane,
Angst, amnesia, hurt/comfort, evil!Cho Chang, forbidden love
Rated E
+/- 25 chapters
90K+ words
Harry is trying to settle back into his relationship with Cho after his complete amnesia of the last 5 years. He can’t help but feel uneasy. There is the dreaded matcha tea that is just forebodingly bad, there are the deleted texts from a deleted number from over 3 years ago. Harry feels restless and he needs answers and surely the person who has been deleted would be the one person Cho was not close with and would perhaps tell him the truth.
Chapter 21: Love Like This
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you have it in you.”
“Obviously not,” she said with a wink. “Now go do something else before I lose my flow.”
“Fine.” He pushed off the couch and walked to the door before he turned back around. He leaned with his arm up against the door frame. “If you need a different kind of flow, you know where to find me.”
She looked up at him sternly, took in his stance and bit back her annoyed smile. “Harry.”
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The nursery was dark, save for the wedge of light from the hallway, and Harry Potter was having opinions about bedtime.
"Come on, little man," James whispered, swaying on his feet, his glasses askew. "Mummy's been up with you three times already. Give your old man a break, yeah?"
Harry gurgled, then screamed, tiny fists clenched in fury.
James tried singing. He tried the mobile. He tried a warming charm on the milk Lily had left in the fridge. Finally, mercifully, Harry's eyes drifted shut, his breathing settling into the rhythm of deep sleep.
"Thank Merlin," James breathed. He reached for the blanket usually draped over the cot but his fingers found only empty air. He patted around in the darkness, exhausted, until his hand closed on something soft and draped over the back of the chair.
"That'll do," he muttered, shaking it out and draping it over the baby in the cot. It settled strangely, seeming to vanish into the shadows, but James was already stumbling toward his own bed, collapsing beside Lily with a groan.
~~~~~*~~~~
"Lily, love, calm down."
"Calm down? James, he's gone!" Lily was tearing through the nursery, blankets flying, her face pale as death. "The cot's empty! The window's open—"
"It's not open, it's just unlocked."
"Harry!" Lily shrieked, dropping to her knees to check under the cot. "Harry, Mummy's here!"
From somewhere near the center of the room, a muffled, indignant wail rose up, seemingly from nowhere.
James and Lily froze.
The wail came again, accompanied by a rustling sound, and James, slower than usual due to sleep deprivation, finally spotted the shimmering distortion in the air, the way the light bent oddly around the shape of their son.
"Oh," he said weakly.
Lily reached out and yanked. The Invisibility Cloak came away in her hand, revealing Harry, red-faced and furious, waving his fists from where he'd been perfectly concealed in the middle of the cot.
"You," Lily said, turning slowly to her husband, her voice dangerously soft. "Threw. The Cloak. Over our baby."
James held up his hands, backing toward the door. "In my defense, I was very tired!"
"You thought a blanket made of nothing was an appropriate substitute—"
"He was warm! Technically! Cloaks are warm, that's their whole—"
"James Potter, you absolute—"
"I'm sorry!" He scooped Harry up, who immediately grabbed his glasses. "But look at it this way…he's already brilliant at hide and seek. Natural talent. Must get it from his dad."
Lily stared at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Then, despite everything, she laughed, a relieved sound, and collapsed against his shoulder, Harry squished between them.
"Never again," she mumbled into his neck.
"Never," James agreed, kissing her hair.
From beneath the cot, the Invisibility Cloak shimmered innocently, already waiting for its next adventure.
Without fail, every time a woman is talking about how she does not want to have children and never wants to be pregnant and how medical professionals, romantic interests and family members keep trying to bulldoze her decision and keep expecting her to change her mind because motherhood is something that is expected of all women and it is abhorrent to think a woman could not desire it, a random mother spawns in the comments to be like “Well, actually, you never know! I didn’t want children and then I got pregnant and I realized I love being a mama and I have five little babies now! Could happen to you! 🥰”
Sister, keep that to yourself or make your own goddamn post, you are ignoring that woman’s central concern and belittling her, you don’t even think you’re doing it. Formerly childfree women who ended up having children and loving it are like detransitioners in the sense that there is nothing inherently wrong with changing your mind about having children or realizing you were mistaken about your gender identity but immediately weaponizing your indecision to tell people that the barriers to healthcare and the violations of their bodily autonomy and the way society ignores that person’s wishes is actually okay because you were wrong. Some people do know themselves.
Who wants to do a reread of the Moments in Time Series with @justalittleconfusing and me?? Thinking of reposting Legerdemain at the end of it with the original ending I wanted.
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All our fics have been posted so it's time to get your guesses on. If you want to join discussions before putting in your final vote, head on over to our discord to exchange guesses but be careful! The writer could be trying to mislead you as well ;)
Final guesses can be entered in the survey until the 26th of July.
You can find all the (twenty-one!) fics in our AO3 collection and you can find it per theme on tumblr per post:
Theme 1 - Any AU
Theme 2 - Canon Compliant
Theme 3 - Canon Divergent
Theme 4 - Fluff to Angst/Angst to fluff
Bonus - Platonic relationships surrounding Hinny
And these are our writers you need to match to one or more fic! Good luck!
@justalittleconfusing
@ginnyw-potter
@prewettpotter
@sophie-hatter-jenkins
@nena-96
@lepoltergeist
@sunlit-di-s
@blackseatwenty
And for the people who like keeping notes I also made a google sheet:
Excel guess sheet template (please make sure to copy before you make edits!)
Every quarter there a list of prompts are posted and you pick one (or multiple) and write a very short (less than 500 words) fic about Hinny with that prompt. You can complete the whole list or pick the prompts that you like.
Prompts for July-August-September:
Wither
Bottle
Frown
Rip
Flat
Faint
Pass
Centre
Black
Award
Pavement
Mingle
Goblin
Marrow
Hiccup
Figment
Catch
Growl
Hurry
Wander
Rest
Mouth
Key
Fade
Resist
Think
Sock
Howl
Gamble
Lace
This is the microfic prompt list for Hinny microfics, make sure to tag this blog so we can reblog your creations!
“Huh?” Harry said in a way that made it obvious to Ginny he had not heard what she had asked him.
“What are you holding that has you concentrating so hard? An obsessive note from a Rita Skeeter admirer?” she teased, settling onto the sofa.
Harry still stood in the middle of the sitting room, one hand tangled in his hair, the other holding a slightly crumpled envelope, unmistakably Muggle with the stamps on the front. The sort that had never once found its way to their home before.
“It’s a birthday card,” he said, a little distantly.
“That makes sense,” Ginny replied lightly. “Go on, pin it up with the rest.”
Harry didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on the card, as though it might vanish if he looked away.
“It’s from my cousin,” he said.
Ginny stilled. “Your cousin? Dudley?”
“I only have the one.”
“Harry?”
He looked up at last, drawn out of that faraway stare as Ginny reached over and touched his arm. “Yeah?”
“That’s… nice,” she said gently. “That he sent a card.”
Harry let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I didn’t even know he knew I had a birthday.”
Ginny tilted her head. “What did he write?”
Harry glanced back down at the card. “Happy Birthday.”
.“Well,” Ginny said, a smile tugging at her lips, “that’s certainly concise.”
Harry huffed softly, then added, almost as an afterthought, “He wants me to visit.”
Ginny’s expression shifted. “Does he? He wants you to go to Privet Drive?”
Harry shook his head faintly. “No. He’s got his own place now. Moved out.”
Ginny’s eyebrows lifted. “Well—good for him. I bet his mum still drops off cooked meals and clean laundry, though.”
But Harry didn’t answer.
Her voice faded somewhere behind him, drowned out by the sudden, sharp pull of memory. Piles of presents stacked high for Dudley—bright paper, ribbons, more every year than the last. The noise, the fuss, the way the whole house seemed to revolve around him.
Harry also remembered the quiet. Long days that passed like any other, no different, no marked moment to set them apart. No cards. No cake. No one saying the words.
He remembered primary school, a chart pinned to the wall with every student’s birthday written in careful, looping handwriting. He’d stood there longer than he meant to, scanning the list until he found his own name next to the date, July 31st.
That had been the first time he’d known his birthday. But summer meant empty classrooms, meant no one there to notice, no desk with a card waiting, no offhand “happy birthday” from a classmate or teacher. Just another day slipping by, unremarked.
I wrote this as a result of a conversation in the @ginnystrophyhusband Discord, so I'm going to claim it as a Hinny Microfic even though it technically doesn't include any of the prompts!
990 words, rated T, read it below or on AO3
There Was Only One Car Seat
Ron stares at Harry incredulously. “You’re serious?”
“Yep.”
Well, that sounded pretty definitive, but Ron still can’t quite believe it. “Absolutely, totally, one-hundred percent sure?”
“Completely.” Harry dangles the keys right in front of Ron’s face. “Now do you want to drive the bloody car or not?”
It’s a good point. Ron snatches the keys out of his best friend’s hand before Harry can change his mind. He’s been waiting for this opportunity for almost five months. Five whole months since Harry’s seventeenth birthday. Five whole months since Harry’s absolutely loaded and ridiculously generous godfather gifted him the car in question.
But it isn’t just any car. No, it’s a 1.8 litre Mazda MX-5 Phoenix Special Edition MX-5 two-seater soft-top roadster, in gleaming black, with sienna-brown full leather interior, fifteen-inch low profile alloy wheels, 146-brake horsepower, nought to sixty in 8.2 seconds. It’s an absolute wet-dream of a car, and ever since the first time Ron laid eyes on it, he’s longed to drive it.
Harry has always flatly refused.
Ron understands. Really, he does, because there are good reasons for Harry’s refusal. The main one is that Harry’s parents (well, Ron suspects mainly his mother) have absolutely forbidden it, along with any other even slightly dubious (aka fun) behaviour behind the wheel. As Harry tells it, she wasn’t at all happy that Sirius gave Harry the car in the first place, and she’s threatened to confiscate the keys if she ever gets even a hint of anything untoward going on.
Which, now Ron comes to think of it, makes this sudden change of heart more than a little bit suspicious.
“Why now?” He’s kicking himself even as the words come out of his mouth, because heaven forbid Harry changes his mind.
Harry shrugs. “Call it festive spirit. You drive us there, I’ll drive us home.”
Ron isn’t sure that ‘festive spirit’ really covers it, but he isn’t going to argue. The important thing is that he gets to drive Harry’s car to the Hogwarts college sixth form Christmas party. He was happy enough when Harry declared himself designated driver for the evening, but now Ron gets to pull up in front of the pub that’s hosting them for the evening, climb out of the sexiest car known to man and saunter into the pub in front of all his classmates like an absolute king.
He really hopes that Hermione’s around to see it.
Speaking of Hermione, Ron’s hoping tonight is the night; her parents are away at some dental convention for the weekend, and she’s made a point of explaining that she’ll have the house to herself.
“Assuming I’m coming back here, obviously,” he points out, aware that he sounds more than a little smug, and not giving even the tiniest bit of a shit about it, because tonight is shaping up to be the best night of his life.
Harry just smirks at him. “Yeah well. I’ll be rooting for you.”
Ron doesn’t reply. With a sigh of satisfaction, he opens the door and slides into the driver's seat. He takes his time adjusting the seat, the steering wheel and the mirrors for his taller frame, enjoying every single second, but soon enough he’s ready to go—and now that he’s ready, he wants to get on with it.
Harry, though, is still loitering on the battered concrete forecourt outside the Burrow, the farmhouse that Ron has called home his whole life. What the hell is he waiting for? Ron opens the passenger door window (electric, of course! What a luxury! He’s far more used to getting a decent upper arm workout wrestling with the manual winders on the Weasley’s elderly landrover) so that he can encourage his best mate into the car when the front door to the house opens and Ginny skips down the steps.
“Sorry!” she declares. “I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?”
Ron’s surprised to see her. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
“I wasn’t. But Harry talked me into it.”
Ginny picks her way towards them across the uneven concrete in her knee-high heeled boots. She’s wearing a glittery black mini dress that skims the top of her thighs and she’s put tinsel in her hair. “That dress is a bit short, isn’t it?”
She sticks her tongue out at him. “Like that’s any of your business. And don’t let Hermione hear you saying crap like that if you want to get laid tonight.”
Ron flicks a finger at her—and then a thought occurs to him. “Wait a minute. You didn’t think Harry was giving you a lift, did you?”
“Yes?” she says, slowly and loudly, as though she’s talking to someone extremely stupid.
“But there are only two seats!”
“Yes Ron. I can count, thank you very much,” she shoots back. “I’ll sit on Harry’s knee.”
Ron can’t help but laugh, because there is no way that Harry is going to risk his future use of the car by breaking not one but two of his mother’s inviolable rules on one night—except Harry is already climbing into the passenger seat next to Ron, and doesn’t object when Ginny positions herself on top of him. “We’re only going two miles,” he says. “Just don’t crash.”
This is bloody typical, thinks Ron—Ginny’s always got away with shit like this, her entire life. He shakes his head in disgust as they attempt to fasten the seatbelt around the pair of them, a process that takes far longer and much more irritating giggling than Ron thinks is strictly necessary.
But, finally, they’re ready to go. Ron puts his foot on the clutch, turns the key in the ignition and feels the engine roar to life. A huge smile spreads over his face. Yes, tonight is going the be the best night of his life.
It never occurs to him that it might just turn out to be Harry’s too.
Angst, amnesia, hurt/comfort, evil!Cho Chang, forbidden love
Rated E
+/- 24 chapters
90K+ words
Harry is trying to settle back into his relationship with Cho after his complete amnesia of the last 5 years. He can’t help but feel uneasy. There is the dreaded matcha tea that is just forebodingly bad, there are the deleted texts from a deleted number from over 3 years ago. Harry feels restless and he needs answers and surely the person who has been deleted would be the one person Cho was not close with and would perhaps tell him the truth.
Chapter 20: Go to Sleep
“Dad said he didn’t get a thing done at work today,” Ginny told him as she got into bed beside him.
“I bet.”
“And he also said he’s very proud of me,” she continued.
He pulled her into his arms. “Of course he is. You’re damn amazing.”
“He said he’s proud of you too, after all you’ve been through.”
He couldn’t remember the last time someone said they were proud of him. His throat closed up and he tried to clear it. “Oh.”
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Remix masquerade fest - Theme 4 - Angst to fluff/Fluff to angst
The fics for our 4th theme have been revealed
The little comfort
remix of: Scarf by @sophie-hatter-jenkins
Flying and Falling Too Fast
remlix of: Flying is Faster than Falling by @justalittleconfusing
All info here:
Post
You can join the guessing squad on our discord too to see what other people think... (the survey to guess will open after all stories have been shared!)
If you're still thinking of joining, it's not too late! Sign-ups remain open for our final (bonus!) fic!
If your story gets remixed, feel free to go into AO3 and accept it, that way your and their story will show the link to the other work.
wild card ask: does the low kudo/comment stats ever bother you?
It doesn't bother me nearly as much as people who use stats to determine the quality of a fic.
I am, of course, human, and I appreciate positive feedback and validation for my work. It, of course, can sting a bit when you work hard on something, and you feel no one notices it.
BUT! That's not why I write fanfiction. What I value most is the fandom community and the friendships I've built within it. I enjoy sharing ideas, reading what other people create, discussing characters and themes, and cheering other writers on. I appreciate it when others do the same for me, but I neither expect nor demand it.
I am incredibly grateful for the people who regularly read and comment on my stories, whether they're friends or simply usernames I've come to recognize over the years. There is something genuinely meaningful about seeing familiar names return chapter after chapter and story after story.
I like writing, and I like sharing what I write, but I don't put pressure on myself to reach a particular number or achieve some milestone of popularity. I'm not looking for fame or engagement metrics. I'm looking for people who want to talk about characters, explore themes, and continue creating together.
I think a lot of people would feel better about their writing or contributions to fandom if they stopped chasing popularity and engagement statistics. The real value isn't in the numbers; it's in the conversations that fandom inspires.
Just because an ask game has a wild card doesn't mean you can ask something so out of pocket that quite frankly makes a lot of assumptions both about what's considered 'low' stats and what someone's goals are when posting stuff while simultaneously making people feel bad about not having what you must deem 'good/high' stats.
Mel is an excellent writer who deserves 100000 kudos and I've never seen someone be so descriptive in how they paint a picture yet so apt in the story they're telling. It's excellent writing every time that's more than a surface-level story, everything is thought out and makes sense and I really don't appreciate people making her feel like what she does isn't enough in some way?
Popularity should never be your ultimate goal but all positive interaction on a fic is nice to the writer, because it makes them feel appreciated.
Also sorting by kudos only is so not the vibe, you're missing 1000 thousands of good fics because they don't have 10 000 kudos
Please consider what you're asking people before you type it in and what your own thought process behind it is, because asks like this are just lowkey a bit mean? Just put yourself in the receiver's shoes for a minute and wonder what it would feel like to get that message (this applies to any ask)
Just one last point about community, it's that it truly matters. More than the numbers of kudos because the conversations I get to have, the interactions I get are so valuable, it helps you dig deeper into stories, both canon and fic, introduces you to more fics, new takes on storylines and you cannot stick a number on that-or I sure hope we don't
alright I've got to do some quick math to explain attitudes towards AI to my boss.
we're looking to create an AI policy, and when we were talking about this, my boss (older millennial) was genuinely shocked to hear that younger people do not (seem) to view AI positively (a la the recent commencement speakers being booed)
please rb for larger sample size!
Question 1/3
What is your age, and do you feel AI is a net positive or net negative in our lives today?
This got more traction than I imagined and has motivated me to make a more thorough survey where I can actually parse the data.
No email is necessary to input to complete the survey. Please also consider sharing this off tumblr with people in your life to get a broader sample, especially people who love history and love museums!
Please give your thoughts on Generative AI (such as Sora, ChatGPT, Claude, etc.) usage in museums, archives, and other cultural heritage sit
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Angst, amnesia, hurt/comfort, evil!Cho Chang, forbidden love
Rated E
+/- 22 chapters
80K+ words
Harry is trying to settle back into his relationship with Cho after his complete amnesia of the last 5 years. He can’t help but feel uneasy. There is the dreaded matcha tea that is just forebodingly bad, there are the deleted texts from a deleted number from over 3 years ago. Harry feels restless and he needs answers and surely the person who has been deleted would be the one person Cho was not close with and would perhaps tell him the truth.
Chapter 17 Origin of Love
Ron looked entirely unimpressed. “Who kissed who?”
“Darling?” Harry smiled at her.
She blushed, glancing away from him. “He helped me get an eyelash out of my eye and he was really close.” She buried her face in her hands but the tip of her ears still went noticeably red. “He was so close! I don’t know how it happened!” she said through her hands.
Harry chuckled and turned his gaze back to Ron. “You can see how disastrous that would be to an obliviated Harry.”
31 and 48 for the mashup game please, would be a good one!
31. Birthday Fic
48. Fake Dating
19 yo Ginny has told all her friends she has a boyfriend. Not because she has something to prove, but because her friends keep sending here on atrocious dates because apparently being single is a crime. She just wanted to be left alone really. But with announcing she had a boyfriend, came the questions of who and how so she made something up and now everyone is interested in meeting this seemingly perfect guy during her birthday party. So there is only one thing she can do. She needs to find a guy who fits the bill (handsome, tall and perfect) and she is scrolling through her phone and Ron walks in and asks what got her thinking so hard so she reveals her predicament and instead of laughing at her, he calls his college dormmate inside and goes 'Will this do?' (Harry is looking like deer in headlights)
From the trope mash-up game
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