Friends, does anyone here knit or crochet or make prayer shawls? I have heard from Pastor Sally Azar in Jerusalem and I will be sending her some prayer shawls for her congregants who have lost family in Gaza, and refugees as they trickle through the rafa border crossing, and maybe people sheltering at the Augusta Victoria Hospital and so on.
Do you want to participate, expressing solidarity and care for our siblings in Palestine? Does your church have a prayer shawl ministry that would like to contribute? (I'm looking particularly at you, clergy and div school friends). I will do everything in my power to facilitate this, I will literally pay your shipping costs if you need me to. I have a super fast crochet pattern I can send you.
Participation is open to all! Please let me know!
79 notes
·
View notes
Voldemort Fic Recs, Part 2
Part 1 is here.
colours by @allthepeculiarthings (900 words, T)
Rec: A beautiful Tom character study, and I love the detail of Merope's green shawl.
It was Mrs Cole, herself only a young girl at the time, who had thought to take his mother’s shawl from around her shoulders, and bundle him in it instead. His mother, after all, would have had no use for it, resting under a few feet of soft earth.
It was a frayed and ragged thing, and the green dye of the crocheted wool faded further and further into the dangerous territory of grey each year, but Tom clung to it nevertheless. His shawl, his name, and his life – he clung onto all he had inherited from his mother like a starved dog guarding its last meal.
time turns and tells them by @slashmarks (Tom & Abraxas, 1.4k, T)
Rec: The most fascinating version of how the Death Eater cult started - from a Tom that never really planned on it or on becoming Voldemort.
Hogwarts uniforms were a great class leveler as long as you were a student. Afterward, of course, the Wizarding World sorted most of the upstarts straight back out. Tom hadn’t needed to be sorted, being the best and brightest, except that he would have gone out buggering a lethifold before he resigned himself to pushing papers at a Ministry desk to buy first generation class privilege without even the paltry efficiency of doing it with a fountain pen instead of a quill. Magic in Britain, he had long ago concluded, was wasted on the magical. They had no imaginations at all.
-
Abraxas was the only one of his friends he’d let keep calling him Tom at school, less as a sign of intimacy and more because ‘Voldemort’ was terminally wasted on him. Abraxas’s great gift for amoral calculation was marred only by a dire lack of romance in his soul. But he was also the only friend Tom still saw regularly, have retired the Voldemort character when he no longer needed to keep a dorm full of pureblood morons in line.
a learning experience by @laeveteinn (Tom/Hepzibah, 9k, T)
Rec: I love Tom's voice and characterization in this, with an unexpected twist on Hepzibah Smith.
“Tom, my boy,” Slughorn exclaims, all well-meaning, smothering concern, “you can’t work at Borgin and Burkes!”
This, naturally, is the moment Tom decides he will.
(He learns that his disdain for boundaries extends far past the realm of magic.)
the tiger’s lady by slashmarks (Bellatrix/Voldemort, 4.8k, T)
Rec: A Voldemort tells Bellatrix about Merope fic. The portrayal of cyclical violence will make you ache, with Bellamort playing out Merope's past. I requested this; you can request fic from slashmarks in return for a pro-choice donation here.
“My Bella," he said, softly and directly into the back of her neck. She had missed this, or else it had come suddenly, this switch into the most dangerous of his moods. "You lie very well and very often, do you not?"
She didn't know what to say, but the words came out on their own, responding to a lifetime of instincts built for just this sort of situation – when saying the wrong thing was better than saying nothing at all. "My lord knows I am a Black... And generally appreciates it."
She felt him tense behind her, and for a moment she expected him to fling her into the hot stove, but instead he moved back, and he was laughing – a real, sincere laugh, a sign of genuine relaxation, and her shoulders also relaxed
The Pleiades by @saintsenara (Bellatrix/Voldemort, 2.8k, T)
Rec: Beautifully written, another version of Bellatrix and her finding strength in Merope that makes me ache.
But she could still see, as she hugged herself for warmth, the seven sisters engaged in their celestial Quidditch match. She muttered their names each night like a prayer.
Alcyone Maia Sterope Taygeta Celaeno Electra Merope
-
‘Do you like Quidditch?’ she asked the Dark Lord, as she levitated a coffee tray into the study.
He didn’t look up from the wanted posters of himself he was inspecting at Mr Lestrange’s desk. ‘No.’
This didn’t surprise her. For all his magic, so strong that it seemed to roll off him like the waves which could be heard from the open window, there was a brittleness about the Dark Lord which made it unlikely that anyone would describe him as sporty. A healthy whack from a bludger would probably snap him clean in two.
Still Water by deslea (Bellatrix/Voldemort, Bellatrix/Rodolphus, 2.2k, M)
Rec: A post-Azkaban Bellatrix fic with an equally heartwarming Belladolphus and Bellamort.
"Show me," she said. Just that. He frowned for a moment, but then, he nodded, and then images and impressions exploded in her mind.
His near-annihilation, and the struggle that followed. His boundless, relentless will to live, to find a way. To find a way back. Years alone with his own mind, with no other input to sustain him. He'd reflected and re-reflected on himself, his life, his nature, until it was like eating himself alive. And then, finally, rebuilding himself, cell upon cell, bone upon bone, skin upon muscle. To her, his body before her seemed like a work of art, the work of a great creator. That he was still himself seemed a miracle.
stray shard of soul by Laeveteinn (Tom & Delphini, 100 words, T)
Rec: An excellent Dadmort mini fic.
He hates this child’s screaming. It jangles long-numb nerves, and he considers igniting her crib.
(Old habit.)
But when he considers another harming her, some faceless enemy, he burns. He’d incinerate them. Next, the world.
60 notes
·
View notes
💎🔮🌿!!
💎 What’s your most prized possession?
Ooh...that's actually a tough one! I actually think it's the prayer shawl my aunt crocheted for me. It was her last Christmas present to me before she died, so even though I don't use it too often, it's very special to me.
🔮 What’s your dream job?
Getting paid to sit on a train and write all day.
🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.
I don't wear this very often because most of the components I have doesn't fit me properly and I need to obtain/purchase better-fitting ones, BUT: Long-sleeved button-down shirt, waistcoat, slacks, the boots with the ace pride laces, and a flat cap. In other words, 1920s couture.
ask game
2 notes
·
View notes
Update. I should have enough yarn to finish it. If I have enough I'll make the next one a watermelon since I'll know how many rows it needs so I can plan out the colors
[ID: a photo of a person in a blue tank top stretching out a work in progress, triangular crochet shawl in front of its face. The shawl has part of a repeating pattern of red, black, white, and green in chevron stripes. End ID.]
2 notes
·
View notes