#oddly prophetic

[1shadowhole]

AAAHHHHHH

I want to buy this even though it doesn't exist.

Arthur playing with the fire with a stick awew

Fictional book cover of Merlin from the BBC because why not !

[ingravinoveritas]

Just thinking about this interview for no real reason at all right now...

[astoundinglyhugespaceobject]

warrior cats au idea

ok so im pretty sure that this has already been made before but an au where redtail is firepaw/heart/star's ghost guide would be so cool like the potential?!??!?!??! dont get me wrong i like spottedleaf fine but redtail would be so cool for that

ORRRR

swap au where princess goes to the clans and redtails her guide

i like the idea w firestar more though but either way it'd be really cool

[vivian-at-home]

one of my favourite authors, if you have not read 'Stand On Zanzibar", which is an almost perfect depiction of the 2020's, but written in 1968, give it a try . . .

John Higgins cover art, 1988

[kstarlitchaotics]

Does God have a plan for us most likely yes but would I take the words of humans though of when that would eventually come no because it's not our decision to make though there might be some deceptions but don't assume when no matter how accurate it may seem we just don't know tbh

Because people have "predicted" it before and they were wrong so nothing as it seems

[evilminji]

You know? I kinda wonder...

In a Self Insert type scenario, in Star Wars?

They would be MUCH more open to listening to "buddy, a storm's comin'" type warnings. Their Cannon knowledge, even if spotty, would probably echo with the Force and draw its attention to them somewhat. Because they KNOW.

KNOW what is going to happen. Not guess. Not assume. KNOW. Like the Force does. And that? Coupled with their inherent strangeness? Would make them the oddly colored duck of the flock, as it were. Not Super Important... buuuut? Easy to spot.

One of the Force's Blorbos.

Just cause, really. Cause they look funny. The Force doesn't even have a plan for um! But they turned up, ate the Force's food, and look at their wittle faaaace~☆! So it's keeping them. You know... assuming they survive.

Which?

Brings me to my point?

Since they LISTEN? The Force probably chatters like a mofo. Since a Self Insert would be anxious and constantly ASKING for wisdom. For help. A friend. Guidance of any kind. The Force would be draped around them like a particularly pleased with itself shoulder cat. A hovering backseat driver.

Because you DO keep asking, after all.

It's like muscle memory. Building strength. Not... not GREAT, in all actuality? Because Self Insert is avoiding making their OWN choices, probably out of fear? But on the OTHER hand? Both of them KNOW that there is literally a Sith Master like... less then 5 minutes away from where they live. Constantly.

And they are a Youngling.

So???

At What Point?? Does the Force? Engage "Fuck it, we take our baby and run" protocols?

Just? FULL ON "you stop midway through making your dinner, turn off the soup, pick up your kids, leave the house, and NEVER LOOK BACK". Because? Yes. The Jedi KNIGHTS and MASTERS may have vows to try and protect the people of the Republic?

BUT THE YOUNGLINGS DO NOT.

They, in fact, need to be PROTECTED.

And if the Force itself? Says "if you stay here, they WILL die."? You gotta go. Hopefully? You have enough warning to like... pack a ship. But, ya might NOT. Might just be "aaaand, everybody put down your pads! Suprise field trip to Anywhere Else! IMMEDIATELY. Single file, younglings. No running!" Like?

What would you do?

I kinda wanna see it.

Just this somber, vaguely haunted, crechling walking up to import figures like Madam Nu and Yoda going "if I tell you The Force told me we have to take the younglings, ALL OF THEM, and any history we think is worth preserving, and LEAVE... would you listen? Or would you let us die here?" With their tiny lil face and to serious expression.

Like a prophet of Doom.

And WHERE? Exactly? Are they supposed to go? Oh, simple. They are to Trust In The Force. And let it guide them. Out IN THE UNKNOWN REGIONS of wild space! Because THATS fine! Is this a joke?

No.

No the youngling is dead serious. Terrifyingly serious. Has been studying how to pilot a shop like they will have to do so THEMSELF. Asking questions that paint a concerning portrait of a child that fully intends to take their peers on this journey, with or without them.

And the Force? The Force says they MUST. That it is impossibly important they DO.

WELL THEN....

Do they... TELL anybody?

No. Not a single soul. Specifically, not a single soul In The Senate. Ah. Concerning! Guess we're? "Losing" a ship in the war? Oh dear. Such casualties. All those lives. Oh noooooo, and such and so forth. UNRELATED note! It's been FAR too long since this temple was cleaned! Unacceptable. You, random clones definitely not assigned to that ship we definitely just lost! Help us... clean!

Just?

The power of "fuck it, we took our ball and went home/left"? Should be USED more in fics. The Force TOTALLY knows where some sweet, sweet habitable planets are. You'll NEVER fuckin find them if they don't want you too! An entire temple of Jedi asking for the SAME thing? Versus a crusty lil shit?

They asked first. And nicely!

With THIS, balance is maintained. Not through FORCE. But through walking away for a bit. Allowing OTHERS to decide if this is what THEY want for themselves. Order 66 may or may not still happen? But? At most? All you would kill is the current fighting adults. Not the teachers. Not the elders. And CERTAINLY not the young.

They? Are far away. Where the Force is still clear and the light is strong. Growing up. Reflecting on what went wrong. Farming. Building a new temple with the Clones. You know, the ones who didn't have their comms. Never GOT that dreaded order. Get to live free men on a peaceful planet.

Cause historically? You send your kids AWAY from active wars zones. Places that are priority targets for your enemies. And if the Force itself is saying "move the babies"? Welp! Guess you gotta move um, don't ya? It's scary. Uncertain.

But it is an act of faith.

And I just? Wanna see Sith's plans just COMPLETELY fuckin implode? Because they could not plan for Faith. For Trust and Community and Hope. All the things they believe so trite. So worthless. The very things that would lead grown adults, POWERFUL PEOPLE, to actually? LISTEN to a mere youngling. Then follow their lead.

It would be?

Inconceivable to them.

@legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @hypewinter @babbling-babull @hdgnj @starwarsblr @starwars

[msmk11]

Sixth Love Language

Fred Weasley x reader

WC: 1.1k

CW: Like one mention of food; fluff; playing pranks!!

Summary: You want to get your boyfriend back after he 'accidentally' pulled a prank on you

Day 7 of mk's mad dash

It is safe to say that you are bursting at the seam with excitement. 

You’ve been dating Fred for almost a year now, and have been friends even longer, so you’ve witnessed your fair share of the twin’s masterful pranks. Being one of his closest confidantes too, you’ve been privy to all of the work and planning that goes into his secret schemes. Though sometimes Fred’s pranks are silly, and even a little mean, they never fail to make you laugh. You look forward to every single one, and are always happy to listen to his tangents about them too. And though you’re a fond admirer of his work, and he’s even offered you the chance to join in on one of his pranks, you’re not sure you have the knack for planning and executing one. 

You’d also never been on the receiving end of one of Fred’s pranks. That was, at least, until about two weeks ago. He swears that it wasn’t intentional, but somehow you’d ended up covered in a sticky goo that was dumped on your head on the way to class. The worst part? It was jinxed with a sticking charm that couldn’t be reversed until the end of the day. Though you were livid, you didn’t let on to your boyfriend. Instead of just giving him a stern talking-to or ignoring him for a few days, you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

The past week, you’d been poring over countless books trying to find the perfect spell or potion to prank Fred with. After hours upon hours of searching, you found it hidden in Witches Weekly, oddly enough. It was a hair transformation spell. But instead of just changing Fred’s hair once, you’ve altered the charm so that his hair will change to a different cut and color every five minutes. It may not be as clever as your boyfriend’s pranks, but he is vain enough about his red hair that you know it’ll do the job. 

You quite literally do the spell behind his back, casting it on him when he is climbing out the portrait hole in front of you on your way down to breakfast. It’ll take five minutes for his hair to change the first time, and you can barely contain your eagerness as you walk hand-in-hand with Fred to the Great Hall. 

You’ve just gotten seated at his side at the Gryffindor table when it changes for the first time. You watch gleefully as his shorter red hair is replaced with long, wavy pink hair. The change starts subtly, but it doesn’t take long before people start to notice. You keep your head buried in the Daily Prophet as George exclaims, “Oi, Fred! Like the new look you’re going for.”

Fred looks at his twin, confused, “What do you mean?” 

Lee looks up from his cereal and busts out laughing, nearly spraying milk all over the table, “Very princess popstar of you, Freddy.”

Your boyfriend looks at you, bewildered, “Babe, what are they talking about?”

You maintain a straight face as you cooly reply, “Your hair’s gone all long and pink, baby.”

“What?!” he nearly shrieks, catching the attention of pretty much everyone else in the hall. 

The students erupt into laughter as Fred frantically begs you for your compact mirror.

When he’s met with his own appearance, his face twists into horror, “Bloody hell? What is this?! Who did this?”

It’s quite the challenge, trying to maintain a concerned demeanor, “Maybe a Slytherin? Might be payback for that prank you pulled on them last week?”

“But why’s George’s hair normal then? He helped with the prank too!”

“Too handsome for them to ruin this, I reckon,” George adds, motioning to his face confidently. 

“This is a personal attack I-”

But before Fred can finish his sentence, his hair begins to change again, this time into a bright yellow bob. 

You can’t help the tiny chuckle that you let out this time, and Fred whips around to look at you, “What? What is it?”

“Mate, it’s changed again,” Lee chokes out breathlessly.

Fred looks back in your mirror and gapes, horrified, “They’ve done it again! How? I- this needs to bloody stop.”

Suddenly, Fred’s younger brother, Ron, approaches, “Wow, Fred. Like the new look. Though I’m not sure yellow’s your color.”

He bursts into laughter, along with Harry and Hermione who are with him.

“Shut up, you git,” Fred replies, reaching out to slap his arm. 

Ron dodges the hit and busts into laughter again. Even Hermione, the most serious fourteen year old you’ve ever met, can barely keep it together.

Your boyfriend looks at her, “Oi Granger. You’re smart! Quit laughing and help me, would you?”

She shrugs innocently, “Sorry, don’t know a counterspell for that one. You might be stuck like this forever.”

“Baby,” Fred protests, “turning to you with real fear in his eyes. Can you fix this, please?”

When his hair begins to morph again, this time into a green, spiky mohawk, you absolutely lose it. You laugh right in your distraught boyfriend’s face and lean down, burying your head in your arms. 

Never afraid to shy away from attention, and with all eyes already on him, Fred stands up and shouts, “Whoever is doing this, you need to stop it right now!”

People only start laughing harder, and that’s when you finally decide to give up the bit. Though your whole body is still shaking with silent laughter, and a few tears are streaming down your face, you tug on his wrist, “Freddy, baby. Calm down. It was me, okay? I’m the one who put the spell on you.”

Fred freezes in place, and you swear you’ve never seen him this still in your entire time knowing him.

“Baby?” You prod, tugging on his wrist again.

“You did this?” he asks quietly.

You’re starting to become a little worried that Fred is actually upset with you for the prank.

“Y-yeah. Just wanted to get you back for the goo two weeks ago,” you admit shyly. 

You brace yourself, preparing for a lecture about how his prank was just an accident, and how you’d just embarrassed him. 

You couldn’t be happier to be wrong. Fred sweeps you up into his arms, pulling you out of your sweet with a loud laugh, “Babe?! You did this all just to get back at me? You pranked me?!”

You nod at your boyfriend sheepishly.

Fred smacks a big, wet kiss on your lips and you try not to be shy about the fact that it’s in front of everyone, “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me!”

“Uhm, you’re welcome, then?” You answer with a giggle.

Then Fred shouts to everyone, “I have the best partner ever!”

[mrghostrat]

Big Name Feelings - 3/?

Aziraphale and Crowley start talking a lot more in the lead up to Prophet Con, and not just over text.

It shouldn’t have been nerve wracking; it was no different than joining a game with his friends or laughing over vintage cookbooks in his kitchen. But there was something oddly thrilling about it, to jump so casually into a video call and talk face to face for absolutely no reason at all, with no running start to ease him into the conversation. Aziraphale got to look at him, watch the way his lips curled as he spoke, and admire the fluid grace of his fingers as he gestured needlessly at the keyboard in front of him. It was casual (domestic, even), and it was only for him.

[sunafc]

Caught in the web – 4, don't freak out

masterlist

• • •

No time like the present, right? Y/n repeated that in her mind like a mantra as she made her way to Suna’s window, in her spiderman suit, to reveal the truth to him.

She had seen Suna’s room a few times now, never from outside the window though (he lived on the fourth floor so it’s not like you could peek inside just by passing by the building).

He’s laying on the bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, probably watching silly tiktoks he would then send to the twins. She smiles at the thought and then knocks lightly on the glass, trying not to startle him too much. That doesn’t work, it’s not like you would expect someone — and spiderman of all people — to knock on your window at night.

Suna snaps his head towards the window so fast she thinks he could’ve sprained his neck and his phone gets thrown in the air.

‘Sorry,’ she says, not really sure if she can even be heard from inside. She watches him pick up his phone and hastily type on his phone for a few seconds while stealing glances at the window from time to time, to check she wouldn’t disappear.

Y/n knocks on the glass again and waves at him. He makes his way to the window warily and opens it, moving to the side to let the hero inside.

‘Thank you,’ the girl says dropping inside the room, her voice swapped with a fake one by the device Kenma installed in her mask so that people would not recognize her, ‘I was starting to think you would never let me in,’ she jokes.

Suna is speechless, standing in the middle of his room, not sure if what is happening is a dream or real life. Spiderman is in his room.

‘What are you doing in my room?’ Suna asks, almost in a whisper, almost scared that talking out loud could make the hero disappear or wake him up from his dream.

No time like the present, ‘I need to tell you something,’ (with that Suna is pretty sure this is a prophetic dream).

‘Me?’ Suna asks in disbelief, ‘You, the spiderman, has to tell me something?’ He thinks he’s finally going insane. All the studying and all the volleyball practices or maybe all the chuppets he ate finally got to him. Then he stops and it’s like a light bulb lit up in his mind, ‘Wait you know me?!’ His eyes are wide and he opens his mouth a few times just close it again without saying anything, ‘Oh my god,’ and it seems like he’s realizing everything now, ‘It’s real,’ he says, ‘You’re here, in my room,’ he sits down on the edge of his bed and then quickly gets up again, ‘Spiderman is in my room,’ his fingers run through his hair, ‘It’s real,’ he says again. He’s freaking out.

Y/n lets out a chuckle and grabs Suna’s hands — he feels like air got trapped in his lungs — ‘Hey, calm down,’ she says softly — but how could he, really? This is everything he ever wanted, his unattainable crush is in his room — ‘Take off my mask,’ she lets go of his hands.

Suna stands still for a moment, ‘What?’

‘Take off my mask,’ the girl repeats.

Suna got it the first time, though it seemed like his brain could not process the words, ‘No, I can’t,’ — this gains a laugh from Y/n.

She’s pretty sure she heard Suna say multiple times he wanted to find out who spiderman was, and now that he had the chance to he didn't want to. This was getting kind of fun, Y/n knew Suna liked spiderman but she didn’t think it was this bad. Suna had always been a quiet and calm person, quite the analytical person too. It was endearing to see this new side of him.

‘I’ll help you, then,’ Y/n grabbed the thin fabric of the mask and the base of her neck, ‘Don’t freak out too much, okay?’ She reveals half or her face by resting the mask on the bridge of her nose, ‘Hi,’ she says, and this time, without the mask in front of her, Suna can hear her actual voice. It’s oddly familiar and it takes him a split second to realize who it belongs to.

‘What the fuck,’ he mumbles taking a step closer, ‘It’s you?’ He holds the mask between his fingers and slides it off completely, ‘Oh my god,’ and then everything makes sense. The way she always had something coming up, how she would disappear sometimes or run away as soon as practice was over, the way when she left during the match was as the same time spiderman showed up at the bank, ‘What the fuck,’ he repeats, his two crushes were now one. His unattainable, unrealistic crush was now his friend and neighbor who could be, maybe, attainable. His friend is spiderman. The manager of his volleyball team. His neighbor. His heart is beating out of his chest and his hands are starting to sweat a little, he feels like he can’t move.

‘Don’t freak out,’ she looks at him, furrowing her brow, ‘Are you freaking out?’

‘Don’t freak out– You’re spiderman!’ He throws his arms in the air and his voice comes out a little higher than normal, ‘Of course I’m freaking out Y/n, what the fuck!’

He frantically grabs his phone and he types something hurriedly. The girl gets a glimpse of his group chat and she swiftly steals the phone from his hands with one of her spiderwebs — receiving a startled look from her friend — ‘Don’t text the twins, oh my god!’

‘Don’t steal my stuff!’ Suna scoffs, ‘That was cool though,’ he holds your wrist and turns it around to look at it from every angle, ‘How does this even work?’

notes:

– the first chat is when y/n gets suna's phone and tells him to not text the twins btw

– then all the other chats are later when y/n went back home

– suna is still freaking out actually

– atsumu is way too curious and he's dying TO KNOW

– osamu is a bit curious too but also very very tired and just wants to sleep

– suna asked y/n so many questions like the little nerd he is

– when y/n left to go back home suna was So Sad

– as always if there are typos in the written part.. my bad 😭 i always leave something behind

taglist: @loveelylacey @mysteriousballer1na @loveliepa @wyrcan @lilchubbyyy @strxwberri-s @kitnootkat @yuminako @lovsvinny @punkhazardlaw @alexrin115 @hyenagoated @httpakkeiji @garfieldissocool @phoenix-eclipses @honeyfewr @dieforleclerc @tooru-bread @atsumuenthusiast @hycuye @le000xxgrd @canthavetoomuchchaos @neuviloved @lcvemiyuki @dazqa @itsdragonius @nyxlai @aboveasphodel @walllflowerrrsss @thepurpleempath @livixxn @futuristicxie @itsmiyamore @gsyche @zzzlevislothzzz @kitskasoboring @naweirdo @oneiratxxia10 @nishayuro @perinferii @piapiaweee3 @tojirin

those in pink could not be tagged :(

to be added to the taglist let me know with a comment or an ask!! <3

[evecolourshock]

::Of course. Bear in mind a lot of it will be me acknowledging he had his reasons, and calling most of those reasons stupid because he based them in flawed historical data. A lot of the time post Clu's rise to power he was not right, despite sometimes doing the right thing.::

Cyrus seemed to... pause, for a moment, actually thinking over the questions. "I suppose..." He mused. "The Grid needs a reset. You can feel it too - the slow, needless grind to a halt, falling apart at the seams. Wipe it all clean, start over. Right back to nothing." Cyrus sounded disturbingly sane, which was possibly more terrifying than the cackling mad thing of just moments before. "If I do it, I'm just a rogue Program. If Tron does it..." his smile grew back to the too-wide grin of earlier. "Well. Tron's a hero, after all. Tron has his reasons. Tron must be doing the right thing." He shrugged. "Everything between now and then... it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Nothing ever has, careening to a destiny that ends in destruction. I have seen it. See it still, every time I close my eyes. Fire and death and chaos." His eyes lit up again, glinting with something deranged. "We need to break the cycle. Only then will we be saved."

From @evecolourshock

"Calm down, alright? I know you're hurting, and I know things are confusing, but getting angry with me is not the answer, okay?" Eve asked softly, crouching down and keeping her hands well away from her disc. "Those gashes look painful - rough run-in with those extremists, huh? I have a few patches with me, can I give them to you?" It hurt to see what was left of Tron like this, but... she wouldn't push Rinzler. "I can get you some energy too, if you like."

Rinzler’s body language radiates distrust and pain. Hunched over and head tilted. His face may be covered by a blank helmet but there’s no doubt he’s glaring daggers.

They don’t like accepting help, it shows weakness, imperfection. Especially accepting it from an unfamiliar program.

But… going back to Clu with visibly bad injuries after letting extremists get the jump on him is much worse than a hit to their pride.

“Just the patches…” Rinzler replies sharply.

[purplekissinger]

hmm…hey, dear! I saw that your requests are open and I would like to know, can I get a fluffy (if that's possible) Voldemort, but as Voldy and not Tom (I mean with his snake form and not human) and wife fem reader (ambiguous appearance) in which he introduces her to his followers(with the right of him calling her his lady or queen or something like that) and despite the regrets and what everyone thinks, he is really devoted to her (even a little yan ) and the reaction of the diners seeing the way the dark lord treats his lovely wife (who is a magnificent witch, by the way) please? keep this wonderful fanart (https://www.tumblr.com/snake-queen7/730095728446291968?source=share) credits to the original author

Death and the Maiden

“why, I am growing quite sentimental... But look, Harry! My true family returns...”

Hiii anon!! Thanks for such a cool idea :3 Look, there is fluff here, Voldemort being nice with reader and all that, BUT!! I accidentally added some pretty dark themes. Like, really dark. Y/N uhhhhhh revives the Dark Lord, no less than that. There are not many details here, but the description of the ritual is sort of the same as in the fourth book. TW: blood, mention of cuts, morally grey reader, Voldemort and Y/N being a disaster couple.

Oddly enough, the most difficult part was finding the grave of Merope Riddle.

She died as Tom Riddle Sr's lawful wife, you now knew this for sure, because you rummaged through a thousand decayed documents in search of the name of the cemetery in the ground of which her poor bones lay. The archives of the hospital, the morgue, three Confunduses and one Imperio led you to Tottenham Park, to the old cemetery, where the poor were buried at that time, where on a tiny piece of land the unfortunate woman finally found peace. The peace that you were now about to disturb.

“Bone of the mother, taken with respect, you will renew your son!” you said in a whisper. And, looking at the ground that had parted under your feet, you thought that it’s good that they didn’t think of cremating Merope.

***

He has many names and so does Y/N.

“Y/N” — he’s the one who calls you that when no one can hear. This name is for him only, like a password, like a key on a chain hidden under a shirt, like a secret door in a solid wall. “Y/N.” "Tom".

“Mistress of the Riddle Manor” is a little cheesy, but you like it. It was you who persuaded him not to huddle at Malfoy’s, but to take the house that rightfully belonged to him, it was you who remade and altered everything here to your taste, it was you who turned an abandoned mansion into a cozy fortress on the border of the forest, it was you who caught a smile on his lips when he saw a tapestry with the Slytherin coat of arms on the wall. “My lady, you have impeccable taste,” he said then, and you bowed playfully.

“She Who Remained Faithful” is not something anyone among the Death Eaters actually calls you, but Voldemort likes to mention this epithet at meetings to emphasize what they should all strive for. When Bellatrix hears this, there are angry tears in her eyes. You are the eternal employee of the month. If there was an honor roll at Riddle Manor, it would have a full-length photo of you on it.

Newspapers are not so kind. In the headlines of the ‘Daily Prophet’ first pages, you are always “She Who Should Not Be Remembered.” The soft “should not be remembered” looks touching in comparison with the stern “must not be named.”

“You should call my wife “Mistress” or “My lady,” Voldemort says softly, looking around the room. “No other way. Although I do not recommend kissing her hand because it could cost your life”.

The Death Eaters gathered around the table nod uncertainly. You smile slightly, touching his palm under the table. His long boney fingers are cold, but only you know that they are also very, very gentle.

“Perhaps,” he adds thoughtfully, looking sideways at you, “such a kiss should be worth your whole life.”

At the wave of a pale hand, they rise from their seats, take turns approaching you and bowing at a respectful distance, and swear allegiance.

“Thank you for your invaluable help...” Snape says rotely. He is the only one who fully understands the incredible level of witchcraft you achieved by performing the ritual. He is the only one who understands how dangerous the mistress of Riddle Manor is, who has not a single murder to her name, but only one revival of the Dark Lord.

“... and I swear eternal fidelity...” Peter whispers. His small eyes sparkle and he tries not to look at you, but he can’t. Not even the fear of getting Crucio'd stops him.

“...my lady,” Bellatrix spits. In her eyes there is resentment, envy, longing... admiration?..

***

Tom Riddle had no friends. Voldemort neither. But, since you convinced him to do the most risky experiment in the world ever, to change the ritual of “Flesh, Bone and Blood”, then you had to go all the way.

You needed to sneak into Hogsmeade under the cover of darkness, which in itself is not an easy task, slip into the castle, find the Chamber of Secrets and allow Tom to possess you so that with your lips he could say the cherished “Open.” You had to jump into the cold darkness, you had to walk through the damp tunnels, you had to close your eyes when, rustling its scales, a huge creature approached you and, sniffing the air with its terrible nostrils, emited a bubbling hiss, in which any Parseltmouth would recognize the delight of a long-awaited meeting. “Why, you recognise me, after all,” Tom said tenderly, without leaving your body, and your arms wrapped around the thick snake neck. “Well, hello, Susie. Long time no see". A quiet, gentle hiss was the answer. "Thank you. Listen, there's something I really need you to do now...”

In one motion, you knocked over the fogged diamond vial over the cauldron. The blood of Susie the basilisk, the only creature in the world that Tom Riddle had ever considered a friend, turned the potion golden.

“Blood of the friend,” you said, breathing in, “given willingly, you will ressurect your ally!”

You understood Susie perfectly. Knowing Tom meant being willing to do anything for him.

***

“Do you want to celebrate our wedding at the Ministry or at Westminster Abbey?” Voldemort asks casually.

These quiet mornings are just for the two of you. When the fog over Little Hangleton had not yet cleared, and a cool freshness reigned in the garden, you, slowly, hand in hand, walked through the garden, and you proudly showed him the new flower beds, and he listened very carefully and admired both the flowers and you .

“We’re already married, Tom,” you reminded him and with a graceful gesture you raised your left hand, as if to show him a thin ring with an emerald. He quickly grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips.

“No,” he answered seriously. “It was a formality. I want a celebration for all of London, all of England. I want everyone to see you and know whose wife you are”.

Means a lot coming from someone who can throw the Cruciatus curse at any insolent person who dares to even look at you.

“Oh, aren’t you ambitious, my lord,” you laugh, running your finger along his pale cheek. “Is there anything else you might want?”.

“Of course there is,” Voldemort says with no hesitation, but for a brief moment you think that he’s trying to joke. “I want you to wear the crown of England.”

You hide your smile, turning away.

“Then we’d better get married in the London Tower.”

***

The potion hummed impatiently in the cauldron as you hurriedly unbuttoned your shirt with numb fingers. The third ingredient was too easy, a simple task. It has always been with you, from the day you and Tom looked into each other's eyes.

‘Flesh of the beloved!’ you gasped, breaking into a scream, when the dagger made the first cut on your left shoulder, ‘Given lovingly!.. You... will revive!..’ a little bit more, just a little! ‘Your loved one!"

Will is what is important. Intention is what is important. You don’t need to throw your entire arm from shoulder to hand into the cauldron, just a small piece of flesh is enough, which is worth more than thousands of Galleons, more than unicorn blood and basilisk venom. The will and intention of Her-Who-Remained-Faithful.

***

“You are the most precious thing I have,” Voldemort says quietly when the meeting is over and the two of you are sitting by the fireplace, hand in hand, your head on his shoulder. “I never expected to find such a treasure. And now it is not only with me, but also inside of me… Oh, how are you so loyal to me, my lady?”.

“I would throw my heart into the cauldron if necessary,” you say honestly.

“Don’t you ever say that,” he hisses angrily. “for it's mine”.

[vivantesopvles]

Once again he thinks about the stranger in the dream; his slight build, his soft furious mouth, the way he felt so familiar, held down and fever-hot beneath Tom.

Harry. (The stranger’s name is easily summoned to mind, though from where it cannot be known.)

It’s not the first time Tom has dreamed of him, in dreams real as a scene on the street, broken yet oddly coherent. And always, always, ending in death: the same flash of green light; the vague sense of loss that follows him into the waking.

For a while that’s all there is to it. Tom goes to work, goes to bed, he still feels normal – if not terribly underachieved – in his little hamster wheel of safety.

Until Harry follows him too from the realm of dreams into daylight.

Into Tom’s corner on Knockturn.

Into the front parlour of Borgin and Burkes.

Fear grips Tom’s heart at the sight of him, standing so casually before the till. An omen of destruction. A figment, and yet indistinguishable from reality.

Wands whipped out, trained on one another. Within seconds they come to a stalemate. But then –

‘Voldemort,’ Harry calls him softly. The name Tom does not deserve to be called yet.

He wills his hands not to shake. ‘How …?’

‘We’ve met,’ Harry says. ‘Do you not remember?’

Oh, but he does. Day and night, he seems to be able to do little else but remember. Harry’s body, Harry’s voice. He keeps remembering.

‘You have cursed me,’ Tom accuses, pulling anger around himself like a protego. ‘You have infested my mind with visions. Strange, obscene things that –’ he breaks off, aware of the heat that is rising up his neck.

Harry glances up at him. ‘Those aren’t just meaningless flashes of visions,’ he says calmly. ‘More likely, a bunch of memories pulled from several possible futures.’ He lowers his wand, absently rubbing a scar on his forehead. ‘From one of them I came back to you.’

Tom’s ears are ringing. Pure madness, he thinks.

‘But I’ve never – I’m not a Seer.’

Harry just shrugs. ‘As I said, they’re memories. It’s probably got nothing to do with your prophetic powers. Or a lack thereof.’

Tom wants to hex him. He runs through his mental rolodex of painful curses, imagining the absolute joy it would bring to inflict them on people who saunter into his shop, bringing annoyance and trouble. But then it suddenly registers, what Harry is implying and – and it can’t be.

‘What are you to me?’ Tom demands, his eyes widening in horror. ‘Are we …?’

Harry wets his lips. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he says; suspiciously, a little shy. ‘If you choose to let it happen, then so it will.’

[year2000electronics]

i love it when characters in a story are full of “tragic coincidences”. moments that make you scream and shake your television like “IF ONLY THAT SPECIFIC THING WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED!” when really something was always bound to go wrong.

stan broke ford’s project which is how he went to backupsmore which is how he met mcgucket which is how the seed of mcgucket eventually losing his mind got planted. ford summoned bill out of sheer desperation and dumb luck by stumbling across the shaman’s cave drawing.

for a character so carried by “destiny” and things that end up being fated to happen because of him, it’s oddly fitting that the “prophetic zodiac” never ends up working because it’s not just one event that causes the rise or downfall of something. just like how it wasn’t JUST ford’s project that drove a wedge between him and stan, just like how meeting mcgucket didn’t instantly doom him. it seems like destiny if you want to think about it like destiny. but that never really gets anything done does it?

[leniisreallycool]

Herbalist MC Part 1

Disclaimer: this is based on my own limited knowledge and experience. Do not take any of this as medical advice to any capacity until you have done your own thorough research. Some of the mentioned herbs are toxic and even deadly when handled improperly. As an herbalist I strive to maintain factual accuracy, but I may make mistakes that could be fatal. Do your own research.

---

I feel like Solomon is one of the first to recognize their skills. They were using the kitchen in Purgatory Hall instead of the one at the House of Lamentation (it was under repair once again) to prepare a human-safe cream for their dry skin.

"What's this? Is my dear apprentice finally taking a hands on interest in sorcery?" Solomon steps into the kitchen when he hears glass clinking and someone clattering around noisily, usually a sure sign someone was preparing a meal. This time, however, it was you.

He takes a look around. The pleasant floral scent over calendula fills the air. There's a massive pot on the stove, something boiling furiously inside. Curiously, the lid is on upside down with a plastic bag of melting ice on top.

On the other side of the kitchen, a glass jar lays tipped over on the granite countertop, golden flower heads scattered on the counter. That must have been the source of the glass he heard moments ago.

You look over at him with a slight grin as you sweep the fallen petals from the counter into a clean bowl. "No, this is all human world stuff. I'm going to make a cream for my hands. Asmo keeps scolding me for letting them get so dry."

Solomon hums softly. It had been many decades since he himself had practiced human medicine. No longer familiar with herbalism techniques, he steps inside and pulls out a stool to watch. "You don't mind if I stick around, do you?"

"No, that's fine with me! Just don't touch anything. I know what I'm doing and if you mess with anything I might not be able to fix it."

He's content to just watch in peaceful silence for now. You do seem to know what you're doing - you're confident in every movement you make. The moment feels oddly domestic, with you whipping up some interesting concoction and him sitting contentedly to the side, allowing you to work.

Eventually, his curiosity gets the better of him. "You mentioned a hand cream, but what is that on the stove?"

Setting the bowl of petals down on the now clean counter with a quiet clink, you remove the baggie from the lid and dump the water into the sink. "I'm making a hydrosol first," you reply, refilling the baggie with ice from the freezer next to the stove, "to be one of the main ingredients in the cream. Calendula is really good for a lot of different things, but in this case we're mostly focusing on its wound healing properties. It's anti-inflammatory and soothing to dry, cracked skin."

"I see. If I remember correctly, calendula is believed to induce prophetic dreams to protect against theft and burglary. You could certainly use that around a certain brother." Solomon holds his chin in that silly philosophical pose he does so often. "I'm all for experimentation in pursuit of knowledge, but is that pot not a simplified pressure cooker with none of the testing to ensure its safety?"

You giggle and shake your head. "No, it's perfectly safe. Maybe if I wasn't monitoring it, it could be dangerous, but I've done this plenty of times. See, having the lid on would normally create pressure with the water boiling in the bottom, but the ice on top rapidly cools the water vapor, making it drip into a bowl inside the pot. Basically the steam cools down so quickly pressure can't build up."

He nods once more, content with your explanation. For once, he's not the expert and he's willing to learn from you. "Interesting how similar this is to sorcery..." he muses.

"Yeah, I've noticed that." You replace the baggie ice in the lid again. "I think that's why so many herbalists were ostracized or punished for being witches, even if they weren't. The main difference I've seen, now that I've practiced both, is whether there's magic involved or not."

"Or if you're using ingredients native to either the Devildom or the Celestial Realm. Which I suppose is a more specific way of saying there's magic involved," Solomon adds.

Neither of you have much of relevance to say after that. After an hour or so, you remove the finished hydrosol from the pot (ignoring Solomon's gentle teasing about the slightly insane but creative usage of an upside down colander to hold the little glass jar above the boiling herbs) and let it cool before doing anything else.

"Making the hydrosol took longer than I expected, so I don't have time to make the cream today. The hydrosol has to be room temperature before I can start," you say. "And now I also have this super concentrated calendula tea in addition to the hydrosol. Maybe I'll make soap out of it."

"You know how to make soap?" Solomon asks. His gray eyes, normally guarded, widened in disbelief makes you laugh.

"Yeah, it's not hard. I can come over again soon to show you how, if you want." It's a genuine offer. He taught you most of your practical sorcery, so it's only fair for you to teach him ordinary chemistry and herbalism in return. That, and you just enjoy his company.

Solomon grins, openly joyful at the prospect. "Absolutely! I would love that."

"Okay! I'll text you when I have time to come back."

---

Note: The disclaimer at the top won't always apply but I will add it to every post in this series. Some herbs are entirely harmless. However, I don't want anyone to see this and think it's okay to use any herb in any preparation without doing their own research. I don't know what kind of skills you have. I don't know what allergies you have. You might not know what allergies you have. Always take these types of things with a grain of salt.

[officialclangen]

Sorry if this has been answered elsewhere! While I'm loving the new skills/traits, there are some I'm not too sure on the meanings of? Specifically the steady-paws one - is it to do with how they act under pressure?

Oh that's one of the lower levels of the new camp builder skill! Here's the full list:

TEACHER = (

     "quick to help",

     "good teacher",

     "great teacher",

     "excellent teacher"

)

HUNTER =  (

     "moss-ball hunter",

     "good hunter",

     "great hunter",

     "renowned hunter"

)

FIGHTER = (

     "avid play-fighter",

     "good fighter",

     "formidable fighter",

     "unusually strong fighter"

)

RUNNER = (

     "never sits still",

     "fast runner",

     "incredible runner",

     "fast as the wind"

)

CLIMBER = (

     "constantly climbing",

     "good climber",

     "great climber",

     "impressive climber"

)

SWIMMER = (

     "splashes in puddles",

     "good swimmer",

     "talented swimmer",

     "fish-like swimmer"

)

SPEAKER = (

     "confident with words",

     "good speaker",

     "great speaker",

     "eloquent speaker"

)

MEDIATOR = (

     "quick to make peace",

     "good mediator",

     "great mediator",

     "skilled mediator"

)

CLEVER = (

     "quick witted",

     "clever",

     "very clever",

     "incredibly clever"

)

INSIGHTFUL = (

     "careful listener",

     "helpful insight",

     "valuable insight",

     "trusted advisor"

)

SENSE = (

     "oddly observant",

     "natural intuition",

     "keen eye",

     "unnatural senses"

)

KIT = (

     "active imagination",

     "good kitsitter",

     "great kitsitter",

     "beloved kitsitter"

)

STORY = (

     "lover of stories",

     "good storyteller",

     "great storyteller",

     "masterful storyteller"

)

LORE = (

     "interested in Clan history",

     "learner of lore",

     "lore keeper",

     "lore master"

)

CAMP = (

     "picky nest builder",

     "steady paws",

     "den builder",

     "camp keeper"

)

HEALER = (

     "interested in herbs",

     "good healer",

     "great healer",

     "fantastic healer"

)

STAR = (

     "curious about StarClan",

     "innate connection to StarClan",

     "strong connection to StarClan",

     "unbreakable connection to StarClan"

)

OMEN = (

     "interested in oddities",

     "omen seeker",

     "omen sense",

     "omen sight"

)

DREAM = (

     "restless sleeper",

     "strange dreamer",

     "dream walker",

     "dream shaper"

)

CLAIRVOYANT = (

     "oddly insightful",

     "somewhat clairvoyant",

     "fairly clairvoyant",

     "incredibly clairvoyant"

)

PROPHET = (

     "fascinated by prophecies",

     "prophecy seeker",

     "prophecy interpreter",

     "prophet"

)

GHOST = (

     "morbid curiosity",

     "ghost sense",

     "ghost sight",

     "ghost speaker"

)

~Tiri (Copied over from the patrol writing bible resource for writing contributors, no idea where it's actually stored in the code)

[kitzuukts]

Going off of personal headcanons, climate HEAVILY effects the coloration of both IceWings and IceWings. So what would Darkstalker and Whiteout look like?

IceWing coloration is dependant on temperature during incubation - the colder it is, the paler the dragonet. The royal family also has a lot of sharper, "rarer" traits, such as a crown of horns, slimmer limbs, kinked horns, light blue eyes, and white scales. Due to these traits being recessive, however,the two would likely only inherit the serpentine body of the IceWings. Being incubated on a tall peak, their scales would likely have a higher contrast between night and ice, scales in shades of silvers and icy blues but not quite white.

NightWing coloration reflects the sky they hatch under, their wings mimicking the star map of the night. More undercolor shows during dusk and dawn births, but dragonets never hatch during day (and mature eggs cracked in daylight die). Undercolor is partially genetic. Foeslayer's twisted horns passed down to the dragonets, and so did her strong definition.

NightWing power scales are interesting. Scales on the corner of the eye, shaped like teardrops, indicate telepathy (right), or empathy (left), and a teardrop scale on the forehead indicates clairvoyance. Although both eye scales are present for telepathy and empathy, a dragon is not guaranteed both, and it tends to be connected to the dominant talon. The thinner the scale, the weaker the power, with a circular, aka "full moon" scale being raw power seen once in many generations (like Clearsight).

Darkstalker would likely have been a chimera of sorts, assuming animus magic is a recessive gene. He also seems to have taken after Arctic more than Whiteout did, likely getting his sharp figure, long spines, and grey eyes from Arctic. He would have been a very dark black, with weak star scales due to the sheer brightness of full moons, giving him bright grey underscales to represent the ground under bright moonlight and his IceWing heritage. His grey eyes are a mutation of blue and black eyes, the same as his animus magic. His teardrop scales would be circular, although his prophet scale is closer to a football shape. He might enchant his scales further down the line to be darker, and less triangular.

Whiteout is said to take after both parents equally, oddly enough. Not only that, but she was hatched near dawn, and this gives her body a sapphire blue coloring. I imagine her head to be white, or with white splotches, explaining why no one noticed her prophet scale. Her membranes are a silver, with dark blue speckles, a result of hybrid mutation, with Foeslayer's dominant NightWing traits of being smaller, bulkier, large ears, soft spides, twisted horns, dark eyes, and softer overall appearance. She also had thrice-moonborn powers and animus powers (a full moon prophet scale and crescent teardrops). Arctic's normalcy enchantment gave her a number of IceWing traits and too-white scales.