The globe is a dome, welcome home. You can’t tell when you’re on the inside (concave) and most people make the flip while on a plane so they don’t notice, think it’s turbulence. And plus they’re asleep

The fallen

Some say that the trees whisper their names. That you can hear their fading laughter on the wind.

Footprints sometimes appear in the moist grass or mud and their steps echo through the halls.

The paintings on the wall tip their hats to the shadows dancing through the corridors and a cooling breeze gently caresses the curtains.

On photos you think you see a third person but they quickly disappear after a second look.

Sometimes the couch is still warm from someone else sitting on it , even though it’s three in the morning. And the house elves sometimes talk and wave at thin air.

The professors might call you by the wrong name and suddenly they have to blink tears away but can’t fight the small but sad smile that flickers over their face.

Countless cats and owls without an owner wander the school and sleep on the abandoned desks in empty class rooms. And sometimes, they freeze, lift their head and cry out. Whining until someone picks them up and reassures them.

Still opened books are gathering dust in the library. Nobody could ever bring themselves to store them away.
But sometimes a light winds picks up a page and will turn it ever so gently.

And every year on may 2nd , when the sunlight hits the surface of the lake, you can see the backs of fifty six people standing side by side. Facing the sun. They shimmer in the air and their feet don’t touch the ground.

One of them has red hair and the pupils could have sworn that they have seen someone who looked just like him when they were shopping in Diagon Alley.

Next to him, a married couple. You can tell by the way they are holding each others hands. The woman has bright pink hair and her husband seems to radiate warmth and kindness.

Then there is this younger kid. A vintage camera in his small hand. He always tries to take a picture of the sun, but he has never managed to catch the right moment yet.

Next to him stands a blonde, pale girl with a rose ribbon in her hair. She always lays a hand onto the boys bony shoulder and squeezes it gently.

They are surrounded by fifty other people.
The pupils can never actually see their faces. Only their backs. Like a wall of light and warmth they stand united at the lake. Enjoying the sun. Protecting what is left.

And there at the end of the line. There is a man, standing on his own. He is wearing all black. It suits him in a bizarre way. He is yellowish and pale and has black hair. He never looks at the sun. Instead, he stands in the shadow of a tree. Watching the others.

It took years. But after nineteen winters the married couple flowed towards him, took his hand and pulled him to join the others.
To stand together by the water. Between the wild and the school.

As guardians.
As patrons.
As a promise.

Not another child would die on this ground. Not here. History might be written with blood, but not at a place of ink. Not at this school.

Not at hogwarts.
Not at home.


I hit 100 followers today guys thanks so much! I made these marble paths/flooring as a thank you! I’m always so thankful for the loving response I get on my posts and qr codes! 💝

Friendly reminder

That whilst Harry lost his parents, that day, Minerva MC Gonagall lost four of her students. One of them used to be a head girl the other the head boy and all of them were her dear friends. Who btw. where also part of the order. She hears that Sirius Black. **Sirius Black** , Potter’s best friend , killed him, his wife and Peter Pettigrew, also one of his closest mates. She learned that , without reason but only the order of a dark lord, he killed his friends and laughed at their corpses.

She learns that their lovely son will grow up without knowing his parents.
She hears that he will have to stay with the muggles who hate him and his kin. And don’t tell me she didn’t know that.

Then, 11 years later she meets the boy and he looks just like James. Except for his eyes. Of course. Don’t tell me she didn’t , just for a second, felt that thug in her stomach. The grief. Don’t tell me she didn’t want the very best for that boy so many people loved and lived and died for.
(Because I honestly don’t think Remus wanted to keep on going after he heard what happened)

Then, again, two years later it turns out that Black is actually innocent. Don’t you think she felt absolutely horrible and guilty for letting him being shipped off to azkaban when he was in fact innocent. FOR 12 BLOODY YEARS!!!

And then, in Harry ’s fifth year Black fucking dies?? I mean, bugger off arsehole! Sirius Black, finally free. And then? He falls into the bloody veil and leaves as well. He wasn’t even hit by the bloody avada kadavra! By that time she lost four of her former students!

And last but not least. Two years later. Remus Lupin dies. As the last of the mauraders, he dies with his wife’s hand clasped in his own.


and it didn’t even stop there. I mean, she had to watch her own pupils die once again during the battle of hogwarts. Just so she could then, later on, be the headmaster for their sons and daughters and brothers and sisters.





RebelCaptain AU || Top Gun

Jyn- What do you wanna do? Just drop down on the tile and go for it?
Cassian- No, actually I had this counter in mind.
Jyn- Great, that would be very, very comfortable, yeah.
Cassian- It could be.

Requested by @voelks-blog

Simmer Pot Spell to Make a Home Feel Welcoming

You will Need:

  • Large Pot
  • Water
  • Cinnamon (preferably sticks but any kinds work)
  • Orange Peels
  • Cloves
  • 2-4 Bay Leaves


  • Fill your large pot with water and place it on the stove and set it to a medium heat. Into it add your orange peels, cloves, bay and cinnamon. 
  • Stir everything clockwise: “I welcome you to my home, please feel comfortable” and repeat as may times as you feel necessary
  • Cover the pot and let it boil. Keep an eye on it so it doesn’t boil over
  • Once boiling you may remove lid and let it continue to boil until house is filled with the scent and positive energies
rebelcaptain titanic au

(note: i’m not going to actually write this but you can blame my heart will go on for the headcanons!!)

  • jyn is being forced to go to america by her uncle krennic after the death of her parents. he’s arranged a marriage for her once they arrive in new york. although she seems like a perfectly average first class passenger, she’s desperate for a way out
  • cassian, an artist and activist, is returning from a stint in france to the united states to make a living for himself and eventually send for his family in mexico (to get them out of the revolutionary atmosphere and unrest of the 1910s). he and his friend kay buy the LAST possible third class tickets they can find
  • he sees her for the first time while he’s sketching seascapes on one of the lower decks. she’s just stormed out of a lunch with krennic and a few other first class passengers (bodhi, maybe?). jyn’s scowling and red in the face but cassian can’t stop staring at her. 
  • that’s when kay, helpful as ever, says, “there’s a 12.7% chance you’ll ever get near her”
  • but later that evening, as jyn’s avoiding the dinner crowd, she runs into cassian while he’s out having a smoke. they introduce themselves and get to talking when krennic rushes outside to drag jyn back to dinner. he takes one look at cassian and nearly calls the master at arms for harassing jyn
  • jyn, smart as she is, fabricates a story about her almost going overboard and mr. andor saving her life. cassian catches the wink she throws his way and plays along, earning himself a seat with them at dinner as thanks for his heroics
  • cassian meets bodhi the next day and, after they get to talking, borrows a suit from him for dinner. he meets jyn there and is blown away at how gorgeous she looks
  • jyn can’t stop watching him interact with the first class passengers and keeps thinking about the way he kissed her hand when he first saw her
  • after dinner’s over (krennic spends all of his time trying to make cassian seem like any other third class passenger, all dirty and poor) cassian invites jyn on a walk around the upper decks. she accepts without hesitation and they spend hours talking about their lives, dreams, and aspirations. cassian shows her his art and jyn talks about not wanting to get married
  • he walks her to her cabin and jyn leans up to kiss him in the shadows of the hallway. it’s short and sweet, but as soon as it happens, cassian knows he’s in trouble. there’s no way he’s getting off the ship without her, now

you all decide the ending ;)

Shrewd Slytherin

We are Slytherin.
We are green and silver.
We are the crushing of the waves.
We are shadows and currents.

We are the calm before a storm and suggestive smirks in class.
We are the legends that linger forever.
Sometimes our tounges are sharper than our knives.
Sometimes our smiles are more cruel than our revenge.
Our condolences.
We are the heroes that lived too long.
We are the Kings and Queens of Kings and Queens. And heavy weighs the crown.
We are the moon in the sky and the snow on the ground.
We are the ballet dancers that rock.
We are the northern lights in the polar night.
We are beautiful and sharp and crystal clear.

And breakable.

We embrace our shadows and keep our chin high.
And sometimes the dark comes seeping in.
Sometimes our own weapons turn against us.
Sometimes it’s hard to keep the head clear.
To focus.
Sometimes our control crumbles.
And is taken away.
Sometimes it’s impossible to hold on.

Sometimes I realise my mistake.
And sometimes I ponder if I am one.
And then they are there.
Yes, you are…
Someone who can’t even do this simple task.

Sometimes I hide from them.
In my room.
I can hear them scream and yell downstairs.
On the other side of the door.
And sometimes I am happy that I am so lonely.
Because at least I don’t have to listen to them.
And sometimes I think:
Why bother?
At all?

But then there you are:
The calm after the storm.
The boulder in the stream.
My rock.
And your voice is soft:

“Want to feel alive?”

And I chuckle.
Because you have come to know me so well.
And you take my hand and lead me away from them.

And we conquer the world.
We hoist our colours and take a gulp of freedom.
We are the snake with its cunning and wisdom.
We are the sea.
A roaring and a calm.
And we will write history and prophecies.

Because we want to.

{However, please, don’t push me.}

when you comin’ home (we’ll be together then)

rating: g

a/n: yall seemed to like widower!cassian, so here you go! thank you to everyone who gave me name suggestions, and i hope you enjoy!


The first things that come to Cassian’s mind when he opens his eyes in the bright white of the medbay are his children. He’d pushed them out of his mind — he had to — back on Scarif, when the light was drawing nearer and nearer and he thought that was it. Clutching Jyn tight to his chest, Cassian thought he was leaving behind two orphans on Yavin IV. Orphans with a chance to live free of the Empire, he told himself. They will understand, when they’re older.

But now, he’s not dead. Cassian is very much alive and very much aware that he nearly orphaned his two young children. They lost their mother three years ago — when Ailla was four and Daye was only six months past a year.

(He tries not to dwell to hard on Ru if he can help it. They were only married four years when she died, but she’d been the first pilot to volunteer for his missions. She’d been the first person he considered family after losing his mother and father.)

Cassian sits up quickly, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to make sure his children are alright. It makes him dizzy, so he presses the button beside his bed and med droid turns to check on him. “Captain,” he starts, “you really shouldn’t be up yet. The effects of the medication you’re on could be — “

“I need to see my children,” Cassian says, hoarse. “Now.”

“I will see what can be done about that.” The droid scurries off and Cassian has half a mind to follow it. Or he would, if the lightheadedness would subside. Instead, he leans back, willing the stars dancing behind his eyes to go away.

That’s when he notices Jyn in the bed across from him. She looks to be in worse shape than he feels, if that’s even possible, with various wires and tubes entering her arms. Her chest rises and falls rhythmically, if not mechanically. Something in his chest hurts at the sight of her lying in bed like that.

She should be sitting up with him, smiling and laughing and living. He should be introducing her to his —

Cassian catches himself. Where did that come from? Jyn doesn’t even know about Ailla and Daye; there weren’t given an abundance of time to speak about their personal lives, after all. Still, he wants to introduce them, wants to tell Jyn about Ru and the life he tried to lead before the Empire stole it all away, again.

More than that, though, Cassian wants to see Jyn open her eyes.

The door to the medbay slides open, forcing his gaze from Jyn’s unconscious form, and he can hardly breathe. Walking behind a droid, Cassian sees his children, looking tired — he wonders what time it is, absently — and scared at the same time.

Mijos,” he breathes, barely able to think. Ailla breaks away from the droid first (always his brave little girl) and all but runs to his side.

“Papá!” she says, eyes lighting up like her mothers, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s heard in his life. “You’re okay!”

“I am,” Cassian starts, “now that I’m seeing your faces.”

Daye follows her, eyes wide and tired. Cassian knows how his son sleeps — like the dead — so it must’ve taken Ailla to wake him. Hot tears spring to his eyes when he thinks about Ailla and Daye alone, waiting for him to come back, Waiting for his arms to wrap around them again, or for Draven to deliver the worst news in the galaxy. 

Cassian does just that, wraps his kids in a warm hug, and breathes in. They smell like home and love and hope. Before he knows it, the three of them are giggling and laughing together like no time’s passed at all — like the Empire isn’t a threat and they don’t live on a military base. 

Like they aren’t missing a wife and mother. 

As if on cue, just as Cassian thinks the words, Ailla pulls away and asks, motioning to Jyn, “Who’s that?”

He isn’t sure what to tell them. “Someone who will love to meet you,” Cassian says finally, pulling the two squirming bodies up to sit with him. His head spins with effort, but it’s worth it to have Ailla and Daye so near. 

After a few minutes of sitting together in comfortable, blissful silence, Daye speaks for the first time since they’ve been reunited. He’s always been quiet, more pensive than his sister, so the next words really shouldn’t come as a surprise. “Papá?” he asks in his tiny voice, “Is she like mamá?”

“I…I don’t know,” Cassian answers, honestly. He watches the way Daye’s eyes follow the rise and fall of Jyn’s chest and the way Ailla studies her — for once — peaceful face. “Perhaps,” he settles on, then pulls the two of them closer. 

When (he refuses to let it be an if) Jyn wakes up, things will become clearer. For now, the blurred line between the two of them is fine. For now, Cassian tries to ignore the feeling of an old, patched wound throbbing in his chest. 

For now, his children are enough.

The meaning of Hogwarts


Hogwarts is pranks and dreams.
Hogwarts is having fun whilst learning,
It’s friends around you 24/7 and joining your beds to have a gigantic sleepover.
Hogwarts is taking a swim in the cool lake during summer and poking the giant squid.
Hogwarts is sneaking out and roasting marshmallows over the fire. Hogwarts is running from your rival after smearing toothpaste onto his head and laughing all the while. It’s trying to see which of the professors is the most patient and grinning when they blow up. Hogwarts is the smell of the awaiting summer and the cooling breeze on your face. Hogwarts is making up after a fight.

Hogwarts means family.


Hogwarts is caring and celebrating.
Hogwarts is the dream you had last night.
It’s the feast in the great Hall and the pillow fight that escalates. Hogwarts is running through the corridors and playing hide and seek even (especially) when you attend your last year. Hogwarts is singing at the top of your lungs and not caring about what other are thinking. Hogwarts is painting your future the way you always wanted it.
It’s studying and knowing you will actually need it. It’s waking up late but still seizing the day.
Hogwarts is patching each other up after y'all got beat up because you couldn’t manage to keep your mouth shut. (It was totally worth it, tho.)

Hogwarts means friends.


Hogwarts is the sense in nonsense.
Hogwarts is the dawn of a new day, the flight on the back of a hippogrif.
Hogwarts is not having to study because you know without the pressure you’ll do it anyway. Hogwarts is the silence in the library and the groaning of the wooden shelves. It’s waking up in the middle of the night and eating a pizza. It’s experimenting with everything and anything even though nobody knows whether or not it is actually legal. Hogwarts is flipping off your haters because you learned your own worth. Hogwarts is cheeky comments in class and driving your professor crazy. Hogwarts is making friends after you lost the fake ones.

Hogwarts means hope.


Hogwarts is solitude and chaos.
Hogwarts is the stars in the night sky and the thrill of playing quidditch.
It’s coming up with impossible ideas and actually bringing them to life.
It’s the dance off after an intense debate in the common room.
It’s ice skating on thin ice and the feeling you get when the ice doesn’t crack.
Hogwarts is the cozy warmth that’s warming you during a storm.
It’s plotting the best and worst revenge plan there is and seeing your enemy despair. Hogwarts is letting go and being free.
Hogwarts is finding yourself after you lost your mind.

Hogwarts means safety.

So, we had this very interesting campaign tonight. The players that talked during this… wonderful exchange are as follows: Lilith, a warlock played by a female player. Ben, the paladin played by a male player. And, the perpetrator herself, who we’ll call Sunny, a hyperactive ADHD-stricken wood elf described as ‘cute’ by their player… played by a male player, one with a very loud voice. He, coincidentally, does not have ADHD. The plot of the campaign is inconsequential as the interesting quotes involved are all out-of-character.

It began like a normal session.

DM: So, Patricia Onion, the leader of the farming guild, welcomes you into her home.

DM (as Patricia): As you can see, our leek harvest has been-

Sunny (interrupting OOC): Aren’t leeks the anime vegetable?

DM (OOC): …no, Sunny, they are not, they are a type of onion. Now, back to the game-

Sunny (interrupting again): No, they’re anime celery.


Ben: So, about those surveillance crystals, you said they all just showed up?


*rage builds for a moment, and then subsides*

Lilith: No, actually, it’s just a theory.  A game theory.

Ben: Thanks for watching.

Sunny: But he had a point when he said Sans was Ness.

There was silence for a while after that.

Sorry for the terrible graphic, couldn’t help myself. Anyway, I rejoined the Sherlock fandom with my Jim only about two weeks ago and honestly you guys have all been so welcoming, I’d been pretty worried because I’d not written for a canon Sherlock character for almost 5 years but the quality of the fandom has most certainly improved over that time and I’m glad to be a part of it again. 

So, I’m going to list a bunch of followers I think are great and interesting, whether we’ve interacted or not and regardless of how new you are to this blog (since I wouldn’t be following back if I didn’t like your content). These are in no particular order, I’ve just gone through my follower list to find all of you.

@stripedsniper | @tuppencetrinkets | @britishnation | @col-sebastian | @consultiingdetective/@conniethejam | @subsolanus | @ronmanmob | @watsonofagun | @brokcnlegacies | @notelementary | @isaidfocus | @percurrere | @doritoangulum | @bbcmycroft/@abhordull/@vtrevor/@bbcmary | @humansveiled | @victorredbeardtrevor | @aknackforhacking | @doctxrwatsxn | @colmcran | @dcntcount | @iappreciateworksofart | @mollv | @geniusofdeduction | @moriartyproperty | @cansprainpeople | @deductionisms | @walridernightmares | @gcvrnment | @deadcentred | @imxthexhandler | @lilxlionxman | @whcwashe | @vorxkoroleva | @bill-rick | @viisxon | @marelapis | @porticosdaughter

Seriously though,

Black-coffee-drinker: “how would you like your coffee?”

Add-to-coffee-drinker: “oh, two spoons of sugar and a bit of cream would be lovely.”

Black-coffee-drinker: “sure, here you go, darling.”


Add-to-coffe-drinker: “how would you like your coffe, sweetie?”

Black-coffee-drinker: “oh, black, just like that would be fine.”

Add-to-coffe-drinker: “oh…..okay…//#yousoullessbastard#howcouldyou#whothehelldrinksblackcoffee#didntyourparentshugyouenoughwhenyouwereachild#whatswrongwithyou#noreally#whatiswrongwithyou#sneakybastardcantbetrusted#andthateventhowerootedforyou#whyeven#whateven#imean#blackcoffe#likeyournonexsistendsoul#worsethanbeingaginger…//”

Black-coffee-drinker: slytherin/ravenclaw