October is coming so lets get the fun and spooky writing prompts ready!
Do you want your followers to choose prompts until you get 5 in a row? Or choose a row of 5 prompts for yourself to write over the up coming month? Even if all you want are Halloween flavored story ideas to play with through October, this chart is ready for you.
“This is not me asking for a date.” Jack knows Severus is unlikely to think he’s asking for a date, but it always helps to make himself clear, just in case. He’s not ending up another favor down for this, not when getting Severus into this damned shindig is as much a favor for him as not having to fend off anyone who thinks he’s there alone because he’s available.
Severus doesn’t return his wand to where Jack suspects there’s a sheath up his sleeve – he keeps his in a holster half-hidden by his side-arm, himself – but he also doesn’t hex Jack immediately, which Jack takes as a win. “How do you know where to find me?”
“You told me.” Jack gives Severus a flatly unimpressed look, waiting for him to lower his wand, and maybe, if Jack’s lucky, invite him in. “What, no ‘hello, how are you, Jack’?” He pauses, frowning at the lack of recognition. “Not even a ‘you still owe me for that business we don’t talk about’?”
“When?” Severus narrows his eyes, and Jack debates meeting his gaze. It might be easier, but at the same time, Jack hasn’t tested his defenses against a mind-magic user for at least five years. He has a lot to risk if he’s gotten as rusty with mind-magic as he has with other aspects of magic.
“1984.” If Severus doesn’t remember, Jack is going to have a discussion with someone in a position to have made that happen. Possibly with the business end of the wand he hasn’t drawn since… well, since before he got involved with the Stargate, anyway. Or maybe just introduce them to Daniel and Janet. He’d need to bring popcorn.
See previous post about not wanting this to sit for fuck knows how long.
Jack does not get his wish to introduce the person who fucked with Snape’s memory to Daniel and Janet, because Dumbledore is already dead.
The whatever it is that Jack is dragging Snape to goes about as well as any SG-1 mission – all ends well once the screaming and property damage is under control. The mcguffin is safely stashed, the bad guys wrapped up like a present, international incidents are smoothed over, and Snape gets a pile of NDAs and possibly a job offer with the SGC.
Jack’s not having used magic since before the Stargate project is in fact tied back to Charlie’s death, mostly that even with magic, he couldn’t save his son, and he’d been looking forward to teaching Charlie about magic. Even looking forward to the parts he wasn’t looking forward to (namely, Charlie visiting around different communities so his magical education – and the rest of his education – is well-rounded).
Snape may or may not take up the job offer. – Pros: not anywhere near anyone who remembers the mess that was dealing with Voldemort twice, new and interesting potions ingredients, new and interesting potions. – Cons: whole stacks of NDAs, America, military types, Daniel Jackson. – He’s not sure if pro or con or possibly both: Jack, figuring out how off-world potions ingredients differ because of solar and lunar cycles that aren’t congruous with Earth, Muggles.
When or how they get together is after figuring out if Snape is going to join the SGC or not.
AU where the hat knows that there’s a storm brewing on the horizon Harry’s first year, and is determined to be ready.
When “Granger, Hermione,” is called, Hermione’s logic catches up to her excitement and she realises that the sorting hat has been a part of this world for centuries and she’s only been in it for weeks, and that she wants to listen to what it has to say before asking to be placed in Gryffindor. And the hat looks, and the hat sees someone who’s always been on the outside, who has such thirst, such ambition, and who knows that she is capable of more. And thinks Slytherin immediately.
“Very well,” Hermione thinks. “Put me in Slytherin.
And the hat warns her that she is not choosing an easy path, that there is a reason that no muggleborn has gone to Slytherin since the time of Voldemort. It tells her that it is dangerous, and that he can put her in another house as he has done for those before her. But he looks into her mind and sees the force of her conviction.
“I’ve been facing racism my entire life,” she tells it. “Here I have the power to do something about it. Put me in Slytherin.”
“Very well,” the hat thinks, and announces her placement. And jaws drop and eyes widen in shock as this little black girl with eyes like a bronze warship and the bearing of a queen walks over to her table.
When “Potter, Harry,” is called, and the hat sees a child who has suffered, but is so powerful, more powerful than almost any child he has ever seen, if he could only believe what he is capable of. Powerful enough to do what is needed, even though it shouldn’t be his responsibility. And Harry is so nervous he tells the hat to put him anywhere. Put him anywhere, just let him stay.
“Very well,” the hat thinks, better be…
“SLYTHERIN” is the only sound before the hall is silent and shocked her again, as a shy little boy with black hair and tan skin who looks far too skinny and far too small stumbles over to the Slytherin table, trying his best to be as invisible as possible. And his big green eyes have a haunted look that says he’s seen too much for someone his age, and that looking back is not an option.
When McGonagall reads “Weasley, Ronald,” Ron is confused. An hour ago, he was sure he would go to Gryffindor, thought he knew the order of the world. But his new friend is in Slytherin and he’s too nice to be evil, and Ron questions what he thought were hard truths.
And the hat sees. Sees a boy who’s been overshadowed, who has so much ambition and so much longing to prove that he can be something. And he is something, something more. The hat can feel it in its very fibres. “You were made for Slytherin,” it tells him. “You have the mind of a general and the ability to face your worst fears and stand strong in the heat of battle.” And Ron thinks that sounds far too ominous, but all he knows is that his new friend is in Slytherin, the only friend he’s ever had that respected him like an equal and looked at him like he was Ron and not Just Another Weasley. And he makes up his mind.
“Okay,” he tells the hat. Aware that he is breaking away from centuries of Weasley tradition. But isn’t that what he wanted- to be noticed?
“SLYTHERIN,” the hat calls, just as the students think that they cannot possibly be more surprised.
And the gangly redhead that slinks awkwardly to the table in green, away from all his brothers, doesn’t look like much, seems to the casual eye entirely unimpressive. But there is a look in his eyes that says he is strong, he is capable, he is loyal without fault if only he can find someone who is worthy to stand by him. Thereis power there, there is more.
And nobody knows quite what happened, but everybody can sense things will never quite be the same.
YES
I need an epic length fic of the following years of shenanigans
tbh people mock harry for going back to rescue fleurs sister in the second triwizard task but harry knows dumbledore better than anyone else. he probably looked at the situation and thought “would dumbledore let an eight year old drown just because fleur couldnt do this bit? yes. yes he would.”
it’s also possible he was acting off of the lessons he learned in the abusive dursley household. that’s why he does a lot of his so-called “hero complex” shit. he takes a lot of personal responsibility for other people bc he learned growing up that “no one’s here for you, no one will help you, you will not catch any breaks”. he helps bc if he didn’t, who would? certainly not the dursleys, and that’s what he grew up with.
he does things by himself and the two people he actually trusts, bc he’s learned that authority figures are no help and will only make things worse. he takes situations at face value bc he’s never seen other options in his life, he’s never HAD other options in his life. speaking very personally, that was a serious marker of abuse that i saw in myself – i never thought abt escape, or what i could do to improve my situation, bc i didn’t even see that as an option. the options were survive or don’t, deal w it or don’t, acclimate or implode.
maybe he wasn’t thinking abt what DUMBLEDORE would do, what anyone at hogwarts would do. maybe he was acting off what he knew the dursleys (his main authority figures) would do. the dursleys would let the girl drown. and harry was there, and harry could do something, and so harry did. he took personal responsibility for fleur’s sister’s safety bc all his life he’s learned that authority figures cannot be trusted to do so.
people characterize these aspects of harry as a “hero complex” or a “stupid nobility” or a “lack of common sense”, but i don’t agree with that. i can’t put my finger on exactly what it is. it’s not completely unhealthy; it’s even very useful and responsible on occasion.
it’s called “complex ptsd” and if you get out of the abusive situation before you’re old enough to understand how fucked up it was, like Harry did, you don’t end up with the classic flashbacks so much, just atypical behavior patterns and a high risk of other shit. That’s why Harry is so fucked up by everything that Umbridge does, it’s because he’s being retraumatized in his safe space.
Seriously, the Dursleys would have not only let her drown, they would have let her drown so they could blame Harry for it afterwards. (Although the loudest “Potter, too busy winning to care about anyone else” voice in his head would probably be Snape’s.)
Incidentally this is even more clear in the first and second books, to me. Because Harry DID go to adults and say someone’s trying to steal the stone, and what did the adults do? Did they say, yes, we know, we’re taking precautions, real, good protective measures? Noooo. Did they say, thank you, we’ll look into it, even? Noooo. They said, don’t be silly, it’s not your concern, nothing to see here, little boy, run along and do your schoolwork.
And they said this to a boy whose entire life experience has never involved an adult that can be depended on. And they lied, lied about their own knowledge, said “that’s silly” when they know “that’s true.” And they were too convincing: since he as well knew the truth, what they ended up convincing him was that they didn’t know. And it fit right in with his expectations. Adults, whether actively malicious (the Dursleys, Snape) or well-meaning but oblivious (Mrs. Figg, Harry’s primary-school teachers, the other Hogwarts teachers), can’t be depended on. If anything’s got to be done, Harry and his friends have got to do it himself.
Second book, same thing—they’re headed for the teacher’s lounge to tell the teachers it’s a basilisk, and overhear the teachers saying that Ginny Weasley’s been taken by the monster, and they need to close Hogwarts, and their only plan to rescue Ginny is to send Gilderoy Lockhart—knowing full well he’s a fraud, a coward, and no match for a Cornish pixie, let alone a basilisk. Once again, the adults are flat-out useless and if anyone is going to save Ginny, it’s gotta be Harry and Ron.
Notably, this is after another ball-drop on the part of the adults: when Harry’s been framed for underage magic and locked up in his room and starved by people who have every intention of keeping him out of Hogwarts forever, it’s other kids, Ron, Fred, and George, who go rescue him, and when the adults find out, one of them punishes and scolds and the other is only interested in how his car worked.
In book three, we meet a couple of adults that are competent, helpful, and willing to listen—Sirius and Remus—and the other adults come in and the end result is, one’s fired and the other has to go on the run lest he have his soul sucked out by dementors. Dumbledore does listen and give them the necessary hints, but it’s Harry, and Hermione this time, who have to do the work.
And then in Order of the Phoenix, in comes the smothering bullshit about how he’s too young to be in the Order and needs to leave everything to the grownups, after the grownups have dropped the ball four years running and are batting zero on the trust-and-listening factor—no wonder he threw a tantrum, I would’ve thrown a tantrum, he was fucking entitled to one.
“Well, that was a bit stupid of you,” said Ginny angrily, “seeing as you don’t know anyone but me who’s been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels.” Harry remained quite still as the impact of these words hit him. Then he turned on the spot to face her. “I forgot,” he said.
– OotP
“he does things by himself and the two people he actually trusts… it’s not completely unhealthy; it’s even very useful and responsible on occasion.” – @gaelissfelin
…this. Harry sees people as: a. him and people he trusts, b. people to be evaded, and c. people in need of help. When he gets backed into a corner (Voldemort inside his head, heading down the trapdoor alone, off to the DoM alone, into the Forest alone), the circle of people he trusts shrinks down from the DA/OotP, to the Trio, to just himself. Harry never wants to be a hero or gets off on it, he’s just a person who’s suffered from the bystander effect and doesn’t want to be a bystander himself.
…that’s what it is, why it’s useful, I think. It’s not a hero complex, it’s an anti-bystander complex. Sometimes it only takes one person standing up.
When I was younger I never understood why people thought Harry wasn’t thinking things through. But now that I am older and have my diagnosis of PTSD I realize that I was just one abused child identifying with another. It was logical to me that Harry not trust the adults in his life because I couldn’t trust any in mine. No one ever believed me when I told them I was being bullied, my parents were too wrapped up in screaming at each other to give a fuck about me. You go that long feeling like a shadow without a voice and you just start doing things on your own because who the fuck cares about you. You wind up with a protective streak a mile wide because in the back of your mind you know that things can’t change for you but maybe you can change them for someone else even if it means taking their pain as your own. No wonder Harry winds up an Auror, he’s been saving people and getting himself hurt since birth, he needs a psychiatrist to help him but he doesn’t trust anyone so he just throws himself into the only thing he knows how to do rather than healing. It’s by sheer force of will that he’s not catatonic or having PTSD flashbacks every time he goes to work.
I mean, technically he COULD be having PTSD flashbacks every time he goes to work.
Complex PTSD is a lot more likely to cause EMOTIONAL flashbacks, which are a lot harder to identify. (And a huge pain in the ass.)
And Harry, like many children raised in abusive households, was trained to believe that if he was suffering or in pain, it wasn’t something other people could be trusted with, would do anything about, or Was Not That Big of A Deal.
You go that long feeling like a shadow without a voice and you just start doing things on your own because who the fuck cares about you. You wind up with a protective streak a mile wide because in the back of your mind you know that things can’t change for you but maybe you can change them for someone else even if it means taking their pain as your own.
*blinks*
THIS.
Mental image of the day:
Darth Maul in modern clothes. Black t-shirt with slogan or geeky image, unbuttoned black or dark plaid shirt, leather jacket. Black jeans, boots (combat boots or knee-high boots). Hands shoved into the jacket pockets, glaring at someone (the viewer, or maybe someone off to the side).
…. And yes, if someone were able to help me with doing the makeup, I would cosplay this, because I have all of the above.
(And speaking of cosplay, I need to find where I left the bag with the Snape robe project, and finish the repairs/trim on it.)
Fandom: Harry Potter AU: With the Purest Intentions Word Count: 280 Characters: Lucius Malfoy
Warnings: Major Character Death, Suicide, Self-Sacrifice
Notes: Written for the prompt “Lucius Malfoy – sacrifice”.
This is the last sacrifice, the last stand he will make.
Lucius stands between what remains of his family and the Aurors who are too blindly loyal to the Ministry to care who they harm while trying to stop Voldemort and his followers. They’ll tear his granddaughter from her parents before they cut them down, if she’s lucky. He fears they won’t even do that much, and his family will be destroyed simply because he had believed the words of a man who had become a Dark Lord.
Destroyed as Narcissa already has been, fallen on the lawn of their home when she would not leave him. Standing beside him as she has for so long, as he knows his daughter-in-law will do for his son, no matter the conflict in their past. Lucius draws a deep breath, and moves his hand in a deceptively simple motion, letting his magic flow through his wand and into the wards that lie dormant in the house and the garden.
In his other hand is a knife, and he smiles at the Aurors who haven’t yet dared try to come close enough to strike him through the wards that still protect him. He will fall in this last stand, and he will take them all with him, and anyone else who dares to disturb his family’s home. Lucius hears the shouts, and sees the shock on the Aurors’ faces as he plunges the dagger into his own chest.
This is the last sacrifice, the last stand he will make. Bring the blood wards, darkest magic, to life, and charge them to destroy all who dare to enter their influence.
Let the Ministry try to take it, and let them pay for it in blood.
Fandom: Harry Potter AU: With the Purest Intentions Series: Fireside Tales Word Count: 110 Characters: Tomas Lestrange (OC)
He’s surrounded by nothing but sky, so high above the ground that those below him look like nothing more than ants. Suspended in blue, the wind a roar of white noise in his ears as he breathes deep the cold. Letting go of everything but the here-and-now, the broom between his legs, the cutting wind, the warm sun beating upon him, the blue so clear it’s painful.
Up here, he doesn’t have to worry about his parents, his sister, his aunt. Doesn’t have to think about his last year of school, about finding a bride, about anything. It’s just him and the endless blue silence that roars in his mind.
Fandom: Harry Potter AU: With the Purest Intentions Series: Fireside Tales Word Count: 346 Characters: Henri Merdeux (OC)
The frost-patterns on the windows are whimsical swirls and figures, enchanted to remain until the snow melts. Henri is very tempted to break the windows just to destroy the spell, but at the same time, he wishes he could preserve it forever. The last spell his Rhonwen ever cast, so their unborn child would have beauty all around when it was born.
She was born.
His little daughter, his tiny Antigone, who will never know her mother.
Henri’s jaw clenches, and he reaches for his wand, only to find it gone. Remembers then that Tom had taken it, while Minerva took care of Antigone, and Merideth and Morrigan did what they could. Washed Rhonwen’s body, made her ready to be taken to the mausoleum in an over-grown corner of the property. To be buried in the cold of an unforgiving winter.
He turns away from the windows, staring instead into the fire roaring on the hearth. It wavers a moment, and he blinks, feeling tears roll down his cheeks. He refuses to sit, though, refuses to let himself waver and fall to his knees like he wants to. Refuses to scream to an uncaring world, or break everything around him.
The log on the fire explodes in a shower of sparks and splinters, though it never reaches him, never reaches beyond the hearth. The spells are too old and well-established to be overcome even by magic let free of control by grief. Henri curls his hands into tight fists, clamping down on his control. He will not let himself turn into a danger, cannot.
The whispers at the door, the worried expressions on the faces of his friends, never impinge on his senses, only the room which he’d helped to make a nursery for the child Rhonwen had so looked forward to. Barely aware of his magic surging half out of control about him, limning everything in an eerie shade of black-violet and vivid white.
Fighting his grief and rage, ignoring the passage of time and the demands of his body until he collapses in exhaustion.
There's a Mirror on the Wall 