Tall Tales~(Fred Weasley x Reader)

@fblalala2 said: hello lovely ! if you’re open please may you do ghost stories with Fred Weasley please ? don’t worry if not , have a great autumn !!


A/N: Of course! I’m always open!! You also have a great autum and have a Happy Halloween! Hope you like it!

Originally posted by clbuspotter

“Come on! I have something to show you!”

Fred grins as he takes your hand and leads you to an unknown destination. The sounds of students at the Halloween Feast echo throughout the halls. Your stomach growls at the thought of the meal your classmates are eating.

“Fred, where are we going?” You groan.

“You’ll see!” He beams.

The slight sparkle in his eyes makes you forget about the meal and your stomach. Instead you smile and follow him down the corridors.

You finally reach a large, empty, brick wall. Fred let’s go of your hand and steps forward, so that he is centered. Without much warning, a door forms from the wall. He smiles and waves you over.

“Come on.”

You follow him into the room. Inside, the walls are covered in spider webs and the ceiling is speckled with floating pumpkins, identical to the Great Hall’s. In the middle of the room large cushions are scattered across the floor and candles hang from the walls. In the middle of the cushions is a large platter of pumpkin pastes and chocolate frogs. Fred walks over to the seats and grins.

“Happy Halloween.”

“Fred! This is great!” You smile, standing on your tippy toes to peck him on the cheek.

Fred leads you over to the seats and you both sit down. He hands you a glass and a plate of pumpkin pasties.

After biting into a pumpkin pastie, you look at Fred and ask,“So what do you have planned?”

Fred smiles,“Well I was thinking”, he snapped his fingers and all but one single candle dimmed,“scary stories.”

You laugh,“Oooooo festive.”

Fred makes a miniacal expression, the single candle emphasizes the shadows of his face.

“There was a small village in Ireland that lay on the edge of a large bog. The marshy land stretched as far as the eye could see. The soggy ground could be dangerous because it was riddled with many deep bog holes that were filled with black, murky water. The bog holes were often hidden behind clumps of foliage and it was important to watch your step. If a man accidentally fell down a bog hole, he would never come up again.

Every day, the men in the village went out onto the bog and toiled for hours, cutting the turf. They loaded it up into wheelbarrows and hauled it home to dry it in the sun. They used the turf for fuel, burning it in the fireplace to heat their homes. They were also able to sell it to make money.

But, after the sun had set, nobody would dare venture out in the darkness onto that desolate bog. In the moonlight, the wind would whistle through the dead branches of the twisted trees. Those who lived nearby would often glimpse strange shapes creeping across the deserted stretch of swamp.

There were rumors throughout the village that strange creatures emerged from the bog holes at night. People were so afraid that they refused to leave their homes after dark. There was only one person in the village who did not believe in these creatures, a tall young man by the name of Tom McManus.

On his way home from work, as the light began to fade, he’d often whisper to his friends, “There’s one!” and they would jump and run. And Tom would laugh and laugh. Finally some of his friends turned on him.

‘If you know so much,’ they said, ‘why don’t you go out onto the bog some night and see what happens to you.’

“I’ll do it,” said Tom. “Sure, don’t I work out there every day? Not once have I ever seen anything to frighten me. Why would it be different at night? Tomorrow night I’ll take my lantern and walk out to the hanging willow tree in the middle of the bog. If I get scared and run, I’ll never make fun of you again.”

The next night the men went to Tom’s house to see him on his way. It was the blackest of nights and thick clouds obscured the moon, blocking out the light. When they arrived, Tom’s mother was pleading with him not to go.

“I’ll be all right,” he said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Don’t be foolish like the rest.”

He took his lantern and singing to himself, headed down the path that led to the bog. Some of the young men wondered if Tom wasn’t right. Maybe they were afraid of things that did not exist. A few decided to follow him and see for themselves, but they stayed far behind in case he ran into trouble. They were sure they saw dark shapes moving about. But Tom’s lantern kept bobbing up and down, and Tom’s voice kept floating back to them, and nothing happened.

Finally they caught sight of the willow tree. There was Tom standing in a circle of light, looking this way and that, whistling a happy tune. All of a sudden the wind blew out his lantern, and Tom suddenly stopped whistling. The men stood silent and still in the blackness, straining their eyes to see and waiting for something awful to happen.

When the clouds shifted and the moon peeked out again, they caught a glimpse of Tom. His back was up against the willow tree and his arms were out in front of him, as if he was fighting something off.

It seemed like the darkness was alive with slimy, creeping things. Strange shapes were swirling about him. They could hear loud wails and awful moaning sounds. Then, the clouds covered the moon again and once more it was as black as pitch.

By now, the men were on their knees, praying for dear life and calling upon the Virgin Mary and all the saints to protect them. When the moon came out again, Tom’s face was as pale as death. He was desperately hanging onto the willow tree with one arm. His other arm was stretched out in front of him and something was pulling on it.

It looked like a disembodied hand, with rotting flesh dropping off the moldy bones and it had a tight grasp on poor Tom’s arm. Stronger and stronger it pulled, until at last, Tom lost his grip on the tree and was dragged off into the night, shrieking like a soul in hell. That’s what the men said they witnessed before Tom was swallowed up by the darkness.”

You gasp sarcastically. Fred rolls his eyes and continues with an immense amount of enthusiasm.

“When the clouds blotted out the moon once more, the men turned and ran through the blackness toward the village. Again and again they lost the path and fell into the muck, struggling to avoid the deadly bog holes. In the end they crawled back on their hands and knees. But Tom McManus was not with them.

In the morning the people searched everywhere for Tom. Finally they gave him up for lost. That evening, the villagers heard a cry. It was Tom’s mother. She was rushing down the path from the bog, shouting and waving. When the villagers spotted her, she frantically gestured to them to follow her.

Struggling to overcome their fears, the villagers ran after her and when she came to a stop, they found young Tom McManus slumped against a willow tree, shaking and gibbering as if he had lost his mind. His left hand was raised in the air, pointing and his wild eyes were staring at something only he could see.

Where his right hand should have been, there was nothing more than a bloody stump. It had been ripped clean off. Nobody ever knew for sure what it was that he had seen. Some people claimed that he had been attacked by the dead hand and others said that was just the talk of drunken, superstitious fools.

The only person who really knew what happened that night was young Tom McManus, but he never spoke another word again. He spent the rest of his short life, barricaded in his bedroom, shaking and trembling through the long nights.

He didn’t make it to the end of the year and when they lowered him into his grave, his grieving mother cried out to the people gathered in the churchyard and begged them never to be so foolhardy as to venture out onto the cursed bog in the middle of the night. The end.”

By now all of the chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties had been eaten. The candles begin to illuminate and you laugh at Fred’s enthusiasm for the holiday.

“Happy Halloween Fred.”

“Happy Halloween Y/n.”


Arya Meme: 10 Scenes (9/10): Arya giving Ned flowers

They had been twelve days crossing the Neck, rumbling down a crooked causeway through an endless black bog, and she had hated every moment of it. The air had been damp and clammy, the causeway so narrow they could not even make proper camp at night, they had to stop right on the kingsroad. Dense thickets of halfdrowned trees pressed close around them, branches dripping with curtains of pale fungus. Huge flowers bloomed in the mud and floated on pools of stagnant water, but if you were stupid enough to leave the causeway to pluck them, there were quicksands waiting to suck you down, and snakes watching from the trees, and lizard-lions floating half-submerged in the water, like black logs with eyes and teeth.
None of which stopped Arya, of course. One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father. Sansa kept hoping he would tell Arya to behave herself and act like the highborn lady she was supposed to be, but he never did, he only hugged her and thanked her for the flowers.

Suggested by @pigpants and Anonymous

Love is Blind

Strange Magic Week- Day 1: Cannon-Divergence   


When the Bog King came to he was in an immense amount of pain. His jaw ached and a newly formed lump pulsed on the back of his knobbly skull. The real problem was when the King tried to raise his hands to assuage said bump he found they were bound together behind his back.  The Bog King’s back was stiff, and his poor wings were trapped under him. Worst of all though was when he opened his eyes, the Bog King saw nothing, nothing at all, just black.

The Bog King of the Dark Forest let loose an almighty roar that was worthy of his title. 

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Sansa and Arya: the stupidest post of the week

I just saw the stupidest post of the week:

a gif set of what happened to Arya from the beginning and this was the comment to the gifs set

Arya would have survived if she had been in her sister’s place

OMG people in the notes started to say Arya did that, Sansa did this other thing, what happened to Arya was worse, no you’re wrong what happened to Sansa was worse… THIS IS SO STUPID.

I mean… wake up, people.

It’s clear that what we saw in the last episode is bad writing, that I call bad fanfiction, and that D&D forced the story in Winterfell because they thought that Starkbowl is a great idea… we saw enough this season to fully understand that they use the OOC disease as a plot device.

There is a Chinese proverb that imo it’s perfect to describe what it’s happening in GoT fandom right now:

when a wise man points at the moon, the fool looks at his finger

that means that a person should look beyond the obvious, see the bigger picture instead of jumping to conclusions.

All that fans talking about the bad fanfiction as if it’s something that makes sense and debating about which Stark sister survived the worst are just like the fool that looks at the finger, jumping to conclusions, and thinking only about one Stark sister is ignoring the bigger picture: STARKBOWL IS NOT GONNA HAPPEN, DEAL WITH IT.

We saw Sansa and Arya having a stupid conversation after another because D&D just needed a plot device to kill time until ep 7.07 so there is no point in debating who got it worse, but if we really want to do it there is no right answer because what happened to both of them was terrible and the only truth is that thankfully both of them survived.

That said it’s foolish to try to put one sister in the other sister’s place or ignoring the fact that Sansa probably wouldn’t have survived in the wild like Arya and Arya probably wouldn’t have survived at court like Sansa.

And I’m saying this because Got/ASOIAF is not real life, it’s a story and GRRM created these two sisters so different for a reason: the undisciplined Arya was a fish out of water at court but she was at ease in the wild and that is why she survived what happened to her and vice versa the naive Sansa was a fish out of water in the wild but she was at ease at court and that is why she survived what happened to her.

So saying “Arya would have survived if she had been in her sister’s place“ imo it’s wishful thinking at its worst from fans that refuse to acknowledge who Arya was at the beginning of the story.

The only time Arya dealt with Joffrey was at the Trident and she risked her life. Don’t bother to comment that Arya was right and Joffrey was a di*k I know it but striking someone from the royal family is an act of treason and Cersei wanted Arya dead for it, Arya acting without thinking was really dangerous as GRRM told us using Jaime in AFFC

My sister wanted the girl to lose a hand… “As I was fuc*ing her, Cersei cried, ‘I want.’ I thought that she meant me, but it was the Stark girl that she wanted, maimed or dead.” The things I do for love. “It was only by chance that Stark’s own men found the girl before me. If I had come on her first …”

That proves that even before she got to King’s Landing Arya risked her life because GRRM wrote Arya like the wild sister that ignored social conventions: do you really think she would have survived Joffrey in the Red Keep?

No, she would have reacted to Joffrey’s cruelty the same way she did at the Trident but in the castle one of Joffrey’s Kingsguard would have killed her in no time with no one around to protect her.

And the same applies to Sansa, she was not ready to survive the wild because she was too naive at that time: the perfect lady that only knew about songs and honourable knights.

This was Sansa at the Trident in AGOT:

I hate riding,” Sansa said fervently. “All it does is get you soiled and dusty and sore.”… They had been twelve days crossing the Neck, rumbling down a crooked causeway through an endless black bog, and she had hated every moment of it… Huge flowers bloomed in the mud and floated on pools of stagnant water, but if you were stupid enough to leave the causeway to pluck them, there were quicksands waiting to suck you down, and snakes watching from the trees, and lizard-lions floating half-submerged in the water, like black logs with eyes and teeth.

GRRM wrote Sansa like this, a naive child that hated the wild… that child wouldn’t have survived the wild like Arya.

Now Sansa and Arya are not that little girls anymore, they are two survivors and even if D&D are trying to tell us that they are still that young children GRRM created in AGOT we should use a little bit of logic to remember that they grew up in the books that followed AGOT and in the seasons that followed the first one.

The Sansa and Arya that survived will put family first no matter what, they are the two women that were reunited in the crypt in episode 7.04 and hopefully we will see them again in the last episode because this Starkbowl is just a plot device to kill time.

IMO haters who are so ready to belittle one of the Stark sisters are the worst in this fandom and it’s easy to see who they are now thanks to D&D bad fanfiction, we should avoid them

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

American Gods Alphabet: Czernobog

I really love American Gods and mythology so I made an alphabetic list of every reference made in the novel.

Read the whole encyclopedia here

Czernobog (69)

Czernobog (Slavic) Black god and opponent of Bielebog. Also known as Chernobog, His name is derived from chernyi, meaning black, and bog, meaning god. Czernobog is the god of darkness and evil, he has black hair and is always depicted as being dressed in black robes. Czernobog only appears at night, whereas his brother, Bielebog, the god of light, only appears in the day. They are often seen playing chess and eating sunflower seeds. Czernobog is well known in northern Russia, a region that experiences a considerable lack of sunlight. Czernobog is said to bring misfortune wherever he goes and is widely feared throughout Russia.

All names/terms are depicted with the page in which they first appear in the American Gods Tenth Anniversary Edition of the author’s preferred text.

Read the whole encyclopedia here


A Guide to Murdoc’s bass, El Diablo (per ROTO). Anyone who’s skimmed through Rise of the Ogre has likely seen the two page spread devoted to explaining every detail pertaining to the make up and quality of Murdoc’s bass (props to him for taking the time to get to know his instrument so well). There are quite a few notable features (like, who knew it was stained in otter’s blood??). I haven’t seen a post that’s adapted it to Tumblr just yet so I thought I’d give it a go. Key listed below the cut:

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A (Short) Compendium of Dangerous Dragons and Drakes

Throughout history there have been many mythological creatures that inspire awe and fear in the hearts of man. yet, only one such beast has brought true terror with only its name. Legends tell of many with scales as tough as shields, claws as sharp as swords. Mighty wings that black out the sky and their very breath a harbinger of their destruction.

Below, we have compiled a list of dragons created from our followers to inspire any story you as both a player or dungeon master might create.

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Although the forest was fascinating, it was undoubtedly a strange and slightly unnerving environment. Old, storm-felled trees lay higgledy-piggledy across unpleasantly oily black bogs, where bright green mosses thrived, almost glowing in the low light. Beneath the upturned roots were dark caverns which Algy dared not explore, and which the patches of sunlight that filtered through from the forest canopy could not illuminate.

Algy could see that not only did the fallen trees host the growth of many smaller plants which took root in their bark, but many of them lived on, despite being uprooted, putting out new branches which stretched upwards towards the sky. Sometimes a brand new sapling of a different tree sprang forth from a hollow in the trunk of a fallen pine or larch. And high above it all towered the trees that were still standing, their lower branches crowded and bare except around the clearings where others had fallen, but their tops crowned with masses of bright green needles.

Algy gazed at the scene and marvelled… and decided that perhaps it was time to return to his home by the ocean, where everything was fresh and open and bright… 

The Exorcist music tag

I was tagged by @can-i-use-ur-nuns-bog, @black-by-nature and @sofiathedemon. Thank you, loves! ❤️

RULES: if you can, list the top ten songs you are listening to lately, and tag ten mutuals to do the same!

Okay, so, I don’t have ten songs about the show. I am reaaally sorry. I’m gonna be looking out for new ones, I promise. Also, I will exclude 3 very special songs because I am a little shit editing them into vids and I wanna surprise all of you I seriously hope you’ll like them once I finish them

  1. Strange Love, by Halsey (okay, yes, this one is my guilty pleasure for Tomarcus…I mean, c’mon! The lyrics?! It’s totally Tomás’ pov in S1)
  2. Bad moon rising, cover by Mourning ritual (I started making a video with this song, but I left it because I was busy…I will continue it someday, I promise)
  3. Yes, by Coldplay ( ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ehehehe  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)
  4. Ho hey, by The Lumineers (it’s soooo Marcus’ pov! It gives me so many feelings! Ugh *dies*)
  5. I know what you did last summer, by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello (I like to think about this song as Marcus’ pov when Tomás sleeps with Jessica again)
  6. Send them off! by Bastille (ultimate anthem for this second season. Tomás’ pov about Marcus and Peter…I’m writing a fic based on this song. I think I’ll post it when I finish this college year, because I gotta translate it first)

Okay, I can’t believe my lack of TE’s songs…Geez. I suck big time. Oh, well, I guess I will have to do something about it 

Tagging: @homeboy-eobard-thawne, @saludamorysuerte@crescentace, @cutiesonthehorizon, @heterophobicaaron, @iamdaira, @amadgirlintheuniverse (I hope this doesn’t bother any of you♥ Feel free to completely ignore it!)

I need more mutuals to talk about The exorcist…come talk to me, please!

The starlight smells
of new-fallen snow. I sit
with black bog-earth on my boots,
sit beneath singing spruces
and hear my heart translate for me
the wordless speech of the silence:
“Don’t fear
your coming evening.
The real life
awaits you in the west
behind all sunsets,
a happy homecoming to the life before your birth.
You must simply
die your way through
an earth-drawn human life first.
—  Hans Børli (trans. Louis Muinzer) A Moment of Stars

I recently created the cover art for an upcoming middle grade fantasy novel from Algonquin Young Readers- “The Secret of Dreadwillow Carse” by Brian Farrey!

“In the center of the verdant Monarchy lies Dreadwillow Carse, a black and desolate bog that the happy people of the land do their best to ignore. Little is known about it, except for one dire warning: If any monarch enters Dreadwillow Carse, then the Monarchy will fall. Twelve-year-old Princess Jeniah yearns to know what the marsh could possibly conceal that might topple her family’s thousand-year reign of peace and prosperity.“

Thanks to my ADs Carla Weise and Laura Williams. The book will be on shelves in April.

anonymous asked:

*cartwheels into your living room* WHAT ARE YOUR HEADCANONS FOR THE WHOLE BOG IN HEAT THO? *dive rolls out of it*

Oooooh, goodness…okay, lets see if I can properly hash this out…

It starts small, just tiny little signs that he’s starting it - his wings will twitch uncontrollably, he’s full of restless energy, his hands don’t really know what to do with themselves. He feels things more - he can taste what’s in the air, stuff brushing against his exoskeleton sends his nerves into hyperdrive, and his sense of smell sharpens. It’s both a misery and a delight, this onslaught of sensation, but this year it’s even worse/better because this time…

This time he has Marianne. 

Marianne and the scent of her hair drifting over him, teasing at his senses till he’s practically cross-eyed. Marianne and the glisten of her sweat on her skin making it shimmer like diamond dust, and oh, he wants to chase it with his tongue, wants to taste her. Marianne and the subtle little twitches her wings give, making his own positively thrum

Marianne and the feel of her, all of her, on all of him, everywhere. Oh gods, what is he going to do?!

You see, in the past when he’s gone into Heat, it was nothing but miserable, boiling frustration. Right after the incident with the Love Potion, it was particularly incredibly depressing and agonizing for him - going into Heat was a potent reminder of how he would be alone, how he would suffer through this base humiliation by himself. But as the years stretched on, he learned to deal with it. It was still frustrating and humiliating, but he dealt with it. 

But now Marianne is in his life. And oh, he’s never felt so much want boiling under his skin before, she has no idea what she does to him…

But he has no idea what he could do to her!

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Strange Magic Daemon Au

Because every fandom needs the daemon Au

So the fairies have bird daemons, the brighter the better.

Dawn: Golden Breasted Starling

Very social bird and also known as the royal starling. Honestly, I saw the bright yellow chest and bam found Dawn’s daemon.

Roland: Green Peacock

Normally a daemon is the opposite gender of the individual but it’s not uncommon for both to be the same gender. And since typically female birds are not as bright as males of course Roland needs a male daemon. It has to be as shiny as him. 

Green peacocks also are capable of sustained flight but are not as agile as other birds. Of course this is going to be the daemon of the guy with wings who rides around a squirrel.

Marianne: Golden Eagle

Now Marianne’s daemon is an oddity because fairies don’t have predator daemons. Marianne and her daemon have a pretty strained relationship before the events of the movie as she was constantly trying to make him pretty like the other birds.

Known as royal eagle.

The elves on the other hand have land based animals, mostly herbivores and omnivores.

Sunny: Capuchin Monkey

At the rate that boy can twist and jump he was destined for a monkey daemon. It also just seemed to fit him.

Now the Goblins have the predator daemons.

Griselda: Spotted Hyena

Honestly I am not sure why my brain jumped to this for her but for the life of me I can’t think of anything better. Packs of hyena are led by females so maybe that has something to do with it?

Stuff: Cougar

Seems to fit her no nonsense attitude. And general unflappable nature.

Thang: Fennec Fox

They are ear buddies and nothing will convince me otherwise. 

Bog: Black Flying Fox or Black Fruit Bat

Bog would get one of the largest bats in the world.  

Bog was quite put out that his daemon didn’t have ferocious teeth. Or you know, was any way intimidating in direct light. She just whacks him with her wing.