April 29, 2026 | Jaylin Emond-Hardin | Entertainment Editor
Content warning: this article discusses fictional violence and allusions to pedophilia
When I entered online fandom spaces as a middle schooler, I was quickly introduced to the fanfic side of the internet. Fans wrote self-insert works, Mary Sues were rampant and there was always the inevitable Y/N — or “Your Name” — fanfic that had readers saying, “Well, I wouldn’t do that.”
As an adult interacting with these online spaces, it’s become much different. I mean, I would hope that the adult fandom communities are different from the teen fandom communities, but when I say “much different,” what I really mean is almost concerning.
Before I dive in, I want to preface that I am in no way, shape or form passing judgment on people who interact with the fandom spaces differently than I do. I myself am someone who regularly gets ridiculed for my interaction with the online spaces for fandoms, so I understand the frustration of being judged for one’s niche.
I will, however, heavily side-eye the members of fandom communities who take their devotion a step too far, for the bronies who built entire identities around “My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic,” and the millennial “Harry Potter” series fans still fixated on Draco Malfoy as if it’s 2012 Tumblr all over again. I have seen a resurgence of these groups recently, and I know firsthand how it affects the younger communities who interact with those fandom spaces.
When I was in elementary school and up until the middle of sixth grade, I loved “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.” I always considered myself the Pinkie Pie type, with my curly hair and loud, over-the-top personality. But when I got into sixth grade, I began having more access to the internet and online communities. While my mom should have been monitoring what I interacted with online, I instead stumbled into corners of the “My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic” fandom that felt a lot less like the show I loved and a lot more like something I wasn’t ready to understand.
I still remember stumbling across “Rainbow Factory,” a grimdark “gluefic” that imagines ponies in Equestria being killed to create the weather for pegasi. Written by AuroraDawn and inspired by the song “Rainbow Factory” by WoodenToaster, the story — and its sequels — quickly pulled me in, leading me down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos and fan-made adaptations based on the work.
What had once been a harmless, colorful obsession quickly became something darker and soon was something that I was embarrassed to be associated with.
The louder, more intense parts of the fandom — especially the rise of “bronies” and the gore or fetish content they created — overshadowed the simple joy I had found in the series as a kid. It didn’t ruin the show itself, but it changed how I felt to admit I liked it.
Looking back, that shift says less about the show and more about how online fandoms can distort something innocent into something overwhelming. It’s one thing to love a piece of media; it’s another to let the culture around it take over the experience entirely.
“Percy Jackson and the Olympians” and “Harry Potter” eventually took over this love for “My Little Pony,” and thankfully, those fandom spaces were still relatively normal when I was still in middle school.
However, by the time high school rolled around — and the world slipped into quarantine during the COVID-19 pandemic — those fandom spaces took an even stranger turn, especially within the “Harry Potter” series community. Gone were the days of harmless fanfiction about Harry Potter’s twin sister, alternate timelines where Voldemort won or chaotic crossover plots. In their place came something far more surreal: the rise of the “shifting” community.
The shifting community centered on the belief that individuals could enter a “desired reality” through a process called scripting — carefully outlining every detail of that reality — combined with meditation and repeated affirmations meant to guide them into it. By entering this desired reality, shifters believed they would temporarily transfer their consciousness from their “current reality” and live a life in their desired reality.
While the practice itself wasn’t inherently harmful — especially at a time when people were stuck indoors and cut off from their normal routines — its rapid rise as a trend led to some notably strange corners of the community emerging.
Teenagers had initially been the primary participants in shifting realities, but adult women began to establish themselves in the niches. What started as teenage girls trying to go to Hogwarts or the Marvel Cinematic Universe because the state of the world seemed bleak eventually became women in their late 20s and early 30s trying to shift to their desired reality for underage characters they were enamored with.
Alongside the shifting community, the pandemic also gave rise to “DracoTok,” a TikTok hashtag filled with fan edits, memes and imagined scenarios centered on Draco Malfoy. Like shifting, it began largely as a space for teenage girls, but it didn’t stay that way for long — older millennials soon moved in, reviving early-2010s Tumblr-style obsession and blurring the line between ironic nostalgia and something far more intense.
The space became flooded with millennial women creating self-insert scenarios involving a teenage Malfoy — from broom closets to late-night study sessions and sneaking through Hogwarts — often crossing from nostalgic fantasy into territory that felt uncomfortably inappropriate.
As someone who was initially drawn to “DracoTok” during lockdown, that period now reads as a fairly typical teenage crush on a fictional character. With time, though, that attachment faded, and the appeal of Malfoy no longer holds the same weight it once did. This is something that I believe should naturally happen. I am in my 20s, and while the actor who plays Malfoy is now an adult, it doesn’t feel right with me crushing on a character who is meant to be a teenager. This is honestly true for all characters I once had a childhood or teenage crush on — Percy Jackson, Draco Malfoy and Peter Parker, to name a few — and I now view them as younger brothers rather than romantic interests.
Not every adult entering a space meant for children and teenagers makes it uncomfortable, but when boundaries begin to blur, it doesn’t take much for those spaces to shift from harmless fun into something that feels off.
The sexualization of colorful ponies and teenage wizards creates an environment where minors can easily encounter content that isn’t meant for them. While parental oversight plays a role — a conversation for another time — there’s a shared responsibility among users to be mindful of the spaces they create, especially as younger audiences continue to move into online communities.
Contact the author at howlentertainment@wou.edu
