#but it was written with a general audience in mind and I think the TAL episode would be enough of a primer to make it understandable

[galwednesday]

This week's deep dive rec is TAL: The Giant Pool of Money, a collaboration between This American Life and NPR News, that was the first long-form reporting that really made me understand how the hell subprime mortgage defaults led to a global financial crisis:

This American Life producer Alex Blumberg teams up with NPR's Adam Davidson for the entire hour to tell the story—the surprisingly entertaining story—of how the U.S. got itself into a housing crisis. They talk to people who were actually working in the housing, banking, finance and mortgage industries, about what they thought during the boom times, and why the bust happened. And they explain that a lot of it has to do with the giant global pool of money.

And since one hour isn't as much of a deep dive as usual (an hour and a half if you listen to the new reporting in the second half of their follow-up episode from a year after the financial collapse), I'll double-rec Michael Lewis's The Big Short: Inside the Doomsday Machine which goes even more in-depth on the financial and regulatory mechanisms at work.

[stargazing-enby]

Fics I wrote in 2019: masterlist

I wanted to do this on New Year’s Eve, but I decided to wait till @hdowlpost reveals so I could add the fics I wrote for the fest, too. Lo and behold: the fics I wrote last year!

My most popular fics posted in 2019:

Highest kudos: Everything a Word Can Mean (Drarry, 2.3k, 1023 kudos). The soulmate AU I never intended to write! I was so sure this fic wasn’t anything special that seeing all the love it got baffled me so much, but upon re-reading it (and listening to @hptruefan-cheekytorah‘s podfic 😍) I realised I loved it too!

Highest comments: Falling for a Golden Boy (Drarry, 44k, 93 comment threads). My wireless! This fic gave me so many headaches and so many moments of happiness, but ultimately I’m just proud I could prove myself capable of writing a long fic in English--and I’m also so proud of my OC, O’Neill, because she wrote herself out of nowhere and she’s honestly the best.

Highest hits and bookmarks: the above fics again! 2019 clearly has two winners 😂

Below the cut are all the Drarry fics I wrote in 2019 (minus some unfinished collabs), the sole fic I wrote that wasn’t Drarry (it’s Fleur x Cho), and finally the fics I wrote in Spanish. Enjoy!

Drarry fics

Not Rated:

Of Ink and Rhymes (231 words). A collection of Drarry poems written for this year's inktober prompt list.

General Audiences:

You’re the Universe I’m Helpless in (411 words). Draco and Harry stargaze.

Matching Hats (323 words). Harry likes bickering with Draco, but not as much as he likes hugging him.

I Want... You (470 words). Draco and Harry slowly discover that feeling safe has a lot to do with allowing yourself to feel respected. And that includes being allowed the little things in life.

Crumb(ling Willpower) (706 words). Are they just Auror partners? Are they an old bickering couple? Who knows — definitely not them.

As Long as We’re Together (1.9k). Draco and Harry are going through a rough time as parents, but it's okay — they've got each other.

How to Ruin the Perfect Proposal (and Still Get it Right) (2k). When Draco's plans for Harry's birthday end up showered in (quite literal) blood, Draco has to find a quick solution. Featuring spaghetti, hot-air balloons and a proposal ring. (A collab with @drarryruinedme7! 😍)

So You May Remember This (486 words). Draco meets the wrong end of a curse and has to reacquaint himself with his life for a day. (A collab with @tepre 💕)

We Fall Apart, We Rise Together (102 words). The story of how Draco and Harry get together, as told by tree leaves.

Teen and up:

New Year, New Harry (223 words). In which Harry learns that life is a series of starting points.

An Enlightening Session (2k). Harry confesses a secret and makes a decision. 

A Golden Ball of Fluff (375 words). “In my defence, Luna said dogs helped with anxiety.”

Hatred? Not Quite (346 words). Just two idiots fighting in detention.

Are You Okay? (1.5k). “Could you come over?”

Only Each Other (419 words). Harry's as lost as the boy crying in his arms. All he can do is hold on tight.

Crucio (3.4k). "It is our choices that show what we truly are." But what about those who don't really have a choice? This is how their journey together starts: with an Unforgivable, a confession and the incessant dripping of a faucet.

Lost Boys (1k). When the first shriek pierced the air, Harry muted it with a groan and a punch to the wall. Draco's pain hurts Harry beyond relief, and Harry's pain hurts Draco, too. At least they have each other to hold on to.

Just Them (100 words). About how painfully easy it can be for them to get together.

What it Takes to Stay and Fight (1.1k). Harry's had enough of Lucius's words worming their way through Draco's head.

Constant Flux (527 words). Harry Potter is the one constant in Draco's life, only each time in a very different way.

The Art of (Not) Being Broken (308 words). Draco reads an article that explains a few things. And so he shares it with Harry.

700 (280 words). A string is broken.

What They Need (388). A few days after the Sectumsempra incident, Harry decides to go to the hospital wing to apologise.

To Save a Soul (376 words). Draco's and Harry's souls bond the moment Harry saves Draco from the Fiendfyre flames. Before any of them realises, Draco is Disapparated to Azkaban, and their soulbond—their souls—broken.

Pumpkin Boy (6.4k). It's Halloween night, and the line that separates Harry's world from the one he truly belongs in dissipates when he meets a peculiar, white-blond boy.

Help Me Remember I’m Free (412 words). Of what happens in Draco's mind during a PTSD flashback.

Everything a Word Can Mean (2.3k). In a world where magical people are born with the nickname their soulmate will call them by tattooed on their skin... what does it mean that the word on Harry's chest is the thing he hates to be called the most?

What Can Be Found (in a Game of Truth or Dare) (8 words + memefic!) Here's what happens when Draco is dared to give Potter a love bite... as told through memes.

Mature:

A Pointy, Posh Grindylow (1.5k). “Why don’t we duel, Malfoy? Just you and me, tonight, in the Room of Requirement.”

Who We Are at Night (708 words). “Just… hold me. Please. That’s what I need.”

A Dream About a Boy (445 words). Draco Malfoy had a very particular dream once. A dream about a boy draped on top of him.

Stubborn as a Cursed Vault (1k). Harry and Draco are assigned a case together. Feelings ensue. 

Amortentia [FANART] (203 words). 'I'm going to be just right for you.'

(Mis)calculations (5.6k; WIP). This is how they find each other: at 2 am, in the Eighth year common room. Draco wanting to fall, Harry wanting to sink, and both of them in need of someone to hold on to.

Floppy Socks (359 words). Harry arrives home one day to Draco wearing peculiar socks. Bickering ensues.

When Green Shines (2.4k). The legends say that a fine, red string of fate connects those whose souls are destined for one another. And the legends are true, except the string isn’t always fine and it isn’t always red. It’s different for everybody. For some it’s silk, for some lightning. Some people are connected by a ribbon of clouds, and some by electricity.

So why does Harry’s have to look like the bloody Killing Curse?

Explicit:

Alone at Last (1.9k). All they'd done so far was make out behind library shelves and the occasional groping in the Quidditch showers when they both arrived earlier than their eighth-year team. But today — today everyone had left for Christmas and they had the Gryffindor dormitory to themselves. And so Draco was naked on Harry Potter's bed.

Falling for a Golden Boy (44k). Merlin. Why couldn’t Draco have moved to a forgotten village in the Alps? He could have turned into a shepherd, learned to make his own damn cheese and given up his damn magic. But no, he’d had to come back to his Eighth year, hadn’t he? And this was his life now. Draping himself over Potter to hear words from him that he knew Potter wouldn’t ever mean.Great. The school year ahead of him looked simply great.

“All I know is—when I’m with you, I…” Potter, the heathen, grunted when he read the rest of his line. “Do I really need to say this?”

“What, scared of believing your own words, Scarhead?” Draco spat.

“Boys,” O’Neill warned them.

“All I—all I know is you’re the most amazing person with weak ankles that I've ever met, Meg.” Potter scowled. He was blushing again. “And when I’m with you, I feel less alone.”

Or where a drama play, a grumpy pompom and a bunch of well-intentioned friends help Draco and Harry find peace—and each other—after the war.

Traditional (3k). Harry makes a discovery. Draco makes a promise.

A Glance at the Past (In Our Journey to the Future) (7.6k). It's Christmas Eve. It's also Lucius and Narcissa's last chance to accept Draco and Harry's relationship before they stop trying to make the Malfoys come around and move on with their lives.

Draco also happens to have a plug up his arse. One that Harry can control with his mind.

(You’re a) Revolution (23k). “Will I—Will I see you around?”

Malfoy snorts.

“Careful, Potter,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as his fingers linger on the doorknob. “One might think you actually enjoy my presence.”

Eight years after the end of the war, Draco Malfoy stumbles into Harry’s shop in the middle of a storm—no wand, no backstory; no signs of having lived in the country since the Battle of Hogwarts.

During their first encounter, Harry promises Malfoy—and the words sound like an old mantra—that he'll figure out Draco's secrets eventually.

And then he does. He does, except…it doesn't quite feel like a victory.

Other ships

Smooth as Ice (Fleur/Cho, Gen, 398 words). Cho slips in more than one way.

In Spanish (Drarry)

Estaciones (641 palabras, Gen). Dicen que todo nace, crece y muere.

Como un ciclo.

Como las estaciones.

De tal palo, tal astilla (8.1k, Teen and up). A veces es necesario echar un vistazo al pasado para comprender el presente… y el futuro. (O donde Draco conoce a alguien con quien quejarse de Potter).

Recuerdos que duelen (318 palabras, Teen and up). Dos chicos rotos hablando sobre los recuerdos que los persiguen.

El chico de mis sueños (481 palabras, Mature). En una ocasión, Draco Malfoy soñó algo muy particular: soñó con un chico recostado sobre su pecho.

Calcetines de gelatina (369 palabras, Mature). Harry llega a casa y se encuentra con que Draco lleva puestos unos calcetines peculiares.

Flujo constante (562 palabras, Teen). Harry Potter es la única constante en la vida de Draco, pero de muchas formas diferentes.

Pumpkin Boy (Español) (6.9k, Teen). Una noche de Halloween, la línea que separa el mundo de Harry de aquel al que realmente pertenece se diluye cuando Harry se encuentra con un niño rubio bastante peculiar.

[b-radley66]

Also also also prompt: Nola sits herself down and makes a list of the ways she can do better by people without making it All About Nola.

The List

Thanks to my beta-reader @bow-weaver

Nola Vorserrie looks down at the three objects on the polished burlwood of the table. A gold brushed rank plaque, the seal of Alderaan etched into it.

Five dark-blue, almost black pips spaced evenly on it.

A symbol unique on Alderaan. One that she and Senator Organa practically had to physically wrest from the previous bearer. Even though he had eschewed the title for a civilian title that gave more power and prestige. A title that Nels Somar had managed to combine with the one associated with this symbol.

A unique symbol. Almost as unique as the man who would bear it, at least for awhile. Until he could help them identify the best candidate. The best candidate to wrest the two titles from each other.

Her eyes move to one other object. One that she and Bail had both joked about using when the negotiations to unseat Somar had taken a sideways turn. An item from the man’s heritage. A small Corellian blaster, issued from the Royal Armory. She grins. He probably already has a few of his own, but appearances must be maintained.

It is the third item that softens her gaze. A small, unobtrusive object. An object, triple, quadruple, and quintuple encrypted. Codes that can direct and protect the Fulcrum of Bail Organa’s and others’ hopes and dreams. Codes that she has guarded with her life for two years and more.

Her eyes tear as she thinks of what this means.

That Ahsoka’s chances of survival have increased tenfold with the skill of another Temple-trained protector. Even one whose connection with his mystical partner is spotty at best.

That his chances—the chances of one that she loves as much as her Fulcrum, have increased as well with the inclusion of his hunt-sister. Two warriors who had sworn oaths to one another in their youth. To fight with each other, not just for.

She thinks of what she owes him. Her freedom. Her very existence? A scared, fifteen-year old girl, a pawn for a Separatist general looking to add to his retirement plan.

Nola grins as she thinks of the snark and love from him, her Zeltron foster-sister, a Jedi master, pirates, various clonetroopers and an ex-Sith as they assisted her escape. She rolls her eyes, cursing herself.

No. They rescued you, No-no.

She reaches into the inner pocket of her business suit. She pulls out a fourth item. One that she carries next to her heart, but had not looked at for years. Since she had become the handler of a prickly, snark-filled warrior, whose own losses could be seen in her powerful blue eyes, when the snark faltered.

A warrior that she had failed, by following protocol, when she had known of another who had shared her former life. If the whispered words against the skin of her shoulder as Ahsoka slept, on the rare occasions that they had shared each other’s own light, were to be believed, the two Jedi had been something more to each other, before each was lost to the other.

Nola unfolds the worn piece of flimsi. Her dark eyes track on the childish letters from a decade ago.

Letters that made up the words of a list.

A list that was the product of her own mouth spending credits that her ass couldn’t back up, a common occurrence back then.

What do you mean, back then? This question is asked in a high, clear voice in her mind, with just a hint of dryness and that hunt-born snark.

Back then, this trait usually manifested itself with teachers at her school before she left for Handmaiden training. She remembers her father’s patient, wise eyes, eyes that she shared in color as he made her make this list.

“It’s not all about you, No-no. You’re concerned with your life and what happens to you. While that is important to protect yourself, it is not the only thing you should be concerned with. You have said how much you want to be like your mother’s cousin, Padme’. Think about how she does things. What her concerns are. The reasons that she does what she does.”

“Your teachers, who you probably think are stupid, are looking at a much bigger picture than you.”

She remembers agonizing over the words of this list as a ten-year old.

It’s not all about you. Written ten times. Others had joined the list as she was sent back to it, when she failed to live up to it. Sent by her father, her mother, even her cousin.

By another pair of Queens of Naboo as well. One living, one killed by the new regime.

She grins at one particular line.

Listen before you speak. Her grin grows bittersweet as she thinks of her nickname from that Corellian on her mind.

Last Word.

Her eyes fall on the last one written. Written after she had taken her oath, in the dark of Naboo’s moon, as a Handmaiden.

A part of that oath. A credo.

I exist to serve.

She looks up as she realizes that she is not alone. She hastily dips her head as Breha, Queen of Alderaan gazes at her. The Queen’s lips quirk up on both sides in a small smile.

Her dark eyes move over the objects on the table. Two of them she nods at. The third and fourth, her eyes grow troubled.

She ignores the code plaque. Her hand moves to Nola’s list. Her smile disappears.

She looks up at her Hand. Her eyes are unreadable.

“You left one off, dear,” she says.

Nola’s breathing increases, the feeling in the pit of her stomach not unlike that of her ten-year old self facing those teachers.

“Those that you serve. Cherish them. Hold them close to you. All that I can say is, to make the rest of the list easier, is that you cherish them.”

“Cherish them as if every day might be their last. Or yours. Love them. Laugh with them.” She smiles mischievously. “Have ‘wrestling matches’ with them.” Her eyes twinkle at Nola’s blush.

She grows serious.  “Look at that as your penance, my Hand, if you feel that you have to punish yourself for what you did.”

Nola starts to speak, stops. Breha’s eyes sharpen. Nola finds that she cannot look her in the eye.

“Bail was ready to accept your resignation after you were shot.” She looks away, but Nola glimpses the powerful love for her husband before she does. “He felt you had given enough. We’ve talked about this before. In many ways, he may not be ruthless enough for what we are doing. It makes me love him all the more, because every decision he makes goes to his heart. Something that sets him apart from our enemies.”

She smiles. “He has me to help him be ruthless. As well as my Hand, even though she doesn’t realize it.”

Her smile fades again, replaced by the hardness. “I told him no. I wasn’t going to let you run from this. I have never seen you run before. I am not going to let you now.”

“I ran...”

“I am not going to argue with you, Nola,” she says, her tone brooking no discussion, as her words do. “This is where you are going to listen.”

“You are the Hand of the Queen. You give me cover for my decisions. But you are also there to tell me when I am wrong. You have carried out all of our wishes. I am not going to let you shirk your responsibilities.”

Nola looks defiantly at her. “I may have failed you already, Your Majesty,” she says. “I can see what is said in the Legislative Bodies. How much criticism you get for selecting me as Hand. A young, untried off-worlder. Nepotism because I am related to your dead friend.”

Breha does not let up. “Yes, and most of those whispers are led by Dorith Paneer. A man who wants your job. Actually, he wants mine in his family. Our Houses have been rivals for the Throne for thousands of years.”

“Maybe it would’ve helped if I hadn’t rebuffed his advances and married him, when I first got here from Naboo,” Nola says.

Breha rolls her eyes—almost with the power of Fulcrum. “Not that your charms aren’t irresistible, but he didn’t want you for you. He wanted you so he could get to me. To Bail.”

Her beautiful features twist with anger. “I will not let him any further into our affairs. He has made it clear that he believes our destiny is to be closer to the Empire. Could you imagine if he was my Hand? What danger we would all be in? Fulcrum?”

She calms. It is as if a switch is pulled. She is no longer the mother protecting her pack, but the powerful Queen protecting her nation-planet.

Some would say that they are one and the same.

“The most important aspect of that bullet I am adding to your list. Let them cherish you. Let them pick you up when you fall. Let them forgive you.”

She reaches over and pulls Nola into her embrace. “Forgive yourself. Hold yourself accountable, as you do more than anyone else, but forgive yourself.”

She breaks away. “His ship has passed the outer markers of the system. He will be here shortly. Make sure he knows why he is here. To make Bail’s job easier. To find someone worthy to replace him.” She smirks, an expression reminiscent of that warrior that they both worry about. “Don’t let the Corellian get the last word, Nola.”

+=+=+=+=+=

Bryne Covenant stands in front of her, the new symbol of his office on his chest. The blaster has disappeared to the back of his belt, much like she and her foster-sister carries theirs. She lifts his injured left hand and brings it close to her lips. She closes her eyes and focuses them on her list. Including the new words she has added after her audience with the Queen.

She closes his hand around the small code-chip. “She’s in your hands, now, Tal,” she whispers.

He smiles the crooked smile that makes Fulcrum’s heart flip. Hers ain’t the only one.

Her eyes widen as he moves the chip back to hers.

“Nope. Got a full plate with cleaning shit up here.” His eyes grow warm as he looks at her steadily. “She and I are in each other’s hands, No-no. That is what I have had to learn in all of this. But neither of us can protect the other without a conduit to each other. Someone who might be able to sort through our stubbornness and poodoo with no small amount of her own.”

Nola sees her father, her mother, her Queen in her mind’s eye, all holding a part of that list.

“What can I do to make it easier?” she asks.