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    When a Voldemort in his thirties encounters a time-travelling, seventeen-year-old Harry Potter, he makes a dangerous—and hilarious—assumption. He assumes that Harry is his son. And his son, of course, deserves the very best.

    A confused Harry plays along for the sake of self-preservation, but living with his “father” is proving to be intolerable in more ways than one.

    “You are mine,” Voldemort said gently, and smiled when Harry flinched. So the boy did know Voldemort, after all. He knew Voldemort was to be feared. “I will look after you, my own.”

    “I don’t belong to you,” Harry spat, despite his fear. Oh, what a delight he was! He was no cowering, simpering sycophant, like Voldemort’s other followers; no, this child had a spine of steel. Not many could stand before Voldemort without quailing.

    “You are my son,” Voldemort declared. “Of course you belong to me. Your every cell, your every fibre, your every heartbeat. You are mine in flesh and blood and soul. You are mine in magic. And you will not deny me.”

    Now with Chinese, Korean, Russian and Portugese translations, and featuring art by Mona and Hypnodisc!

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    02 Dec 2020

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Reality… glitched.

    I wasn’t spontaneously teleported to another place. Monsters didn’t start pouring out of holes in the fabric of time. No otherworldly voice spoke words of wisdom or warning in my ear. Had I… had I hallucinated that whole debacle? Did I just imagine the world shifting three degrees sideways and tilting diagonally backwards? No one else was reacting to what had happened, so I had to conclude with a sort of grim resignation that I was obviously losing my mind.

    Resolved to pretend nothing had happened, I took a step towards the door.

    Abruptly, I was somewhere else entirely.

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    02 Dec 2020

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    Altaïr reincarnates into the year 1476.

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    02 Dec 2020

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “The Accursed will bring about darkness and madness into the world, that is your destiny,” the dumb rock said. He felt the deep edges of anger and darkness within him, but they were quickly dominated by a feeling of pure, unadulterated, spite.

    “What are you going to do?” Ardyn asked, crossing his arms over his chest, “make me?”

    The God of Light didn’t answer him.

    Kinkmeme fill

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    11 Aug 2020