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rilakeila · 2 years ago

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cat's out of the bag, where reader is an animagus cat and gets embarrassed about it around mattheo

word count 3.9k fandom harry potter pairing mattheo riddle x fem!animagus cat!reader warnings none(? lmk if u see any) author's note just hope it's good, changed it up a lil from the request

request a little cat has been crossing paths with him in the courtyard and he’s actually grown quite attached to it. one of their friends spot him scratching her head or smth on his way to class and makes a joke that mattheo doesn’t understand but the reader does and BOOKS it outta there. mattheo is lowkey a lil put out because he doesn’t see the cat for awhile after that, and the group starts making inside jokes abt it so the reader gets embarrassed and starts avoiding him in person too. mattheo decides he’s over it and gets her to finally spill the beans

STRETCHING your limbs before walking around the classroom, professor mcgonagall requested you to stay a couple of minutes after class to discuss your animagus progress. more so, she was just proud that you were able to complete the process. with mcgonagall and dumbledore’s help, you were typically excused from many days from hogwarts, travelling to uagadou, school of magic, in africa, accompanied by dumbledore to start the process of your animagus. certainly felt out of place with several students younger than you to be able to transform, but it was a great motivation through the help of your professors.

“nicely done, a lovely feline just as myself,” mcgonagall clasped her hands together, proudly, as she watched you jump from table to table in your animagus form.

reaching to the last one that was next to her, you transformed back into your human form, sitting with your hands folded on your lap, “thank you, professor. a big help from you and professor dumbledore, as well as the students at uagadou. though, i am glad that my incantations process did not take as long as i thought it would.”

“well, good that you were able to successfully do so, but i do have another class in a couple of moments, i will let you off now,” mcgonagall patted your shoulder before going to her desk, giving signal that you were free to go. bidding your farewell, she responded with a wave, not looking up from the paperwork. opening the door slightly, you transformed into your animagus form. you remembered that your daily tasks was to practice into your new form, as often as you could, but it was also requested to be kept on the low for your privacy. your classes were not going to resume until the following day, given that you recently had got back from uagadou, only needed to be up to date with all of the material given in your classes.

taking an adventure around the castle was quite interesting in your new form. a new perspective of seeing it at a much lower angle, may even develop a fear of heights from the tallness of the walls. you tried to get use to climbing and hopping around high shelves in some of the corridors. many students noticed you as you walked around the hallways, only responding in hisses unless they were your friends such as hermione or luna. after roaming for quite some time and alternating within your forms, you settled on one of the open sills in the hallway. taking a laying position, your tail curling on top of your frame and getting comfortable to take a nap.

trying to calm your mind, you wished you could be a cat for the rest of time, not having to worry about school and be someone’s pet sounded like such an easy life. a long nap in the midst of day would have been great, only to be awoken the noisy echos of the halls from the students walking out of class or their breaks. you hear someone place their bag on the open minimal surface on the right of you. their once fast movements turned into quiet, assuming that they left. you peeked one of your eyes open, only to see the green of their school robe, moving carefully as they could next to you to sit cross legged. your eye shuts when he finally sits down, seeing a book in his hand, but being nosy, you tried to see who it was.

your eye opens once more, a scar on their nose, curly hair, and a green robe. well, also a familiar face. mattheo riddle. a mutual of luna’s boyfriend, to keep it simple. you have had your fair share of conversations with mattheo, some were just of commonality or had to do with one of your classes’ assignments. though, many of those shared conversations may have been rare but when initiated, they were quite long, often enjoying and longing that company. if there was anything about him, completely different from his father, he was not as interested in gaining power or any sorts, he just enjoyed a good game of quidditch and being in and out of class as soon as possible.

you eyed the book in his hand, recognizing it was his little notebook that he used to jot down notes during class.

“this is a new cat, it’s not filch’s cat,” was all he mumbled before you heard his quill starting writing away. you noticed you craned your neck a little too much to give him notice before dropping it down, closing your eyes to resume your nap. that was until you heard a paper tear out and placed in front of you, “since you’re not asleep, here, judge my drawing.”

caught. you looked at the quick doodle, it was a simple sketch of you curled up with small details from the background, sky, clouds, sunrays, and everything. he must have drawing as a hobby, you were sure it was no more than five minutes that he was able to conjure from the time he has sat down. stretching out your limbs, you grabbed the drawing with your mouth and turned to place it in his lap, a small nod of approval. honestly, you were unsure how to show your appreciation in this form without giving away that you were an animagus.

“well, i reckon that you like this picture. and i’m sure there’s no way that you have a place to keep it,” he raised his hand to pet you, but there was hesitation, probably unsure if you were to going to hiss, bite, or claw at him. mattheo held his palm out in front of you, showing some sort of consent. he seemed harmless, but would it be weird if he ever found out that you were just an animagus. you leaned closer, but that thought of the what if made you feel embarrassed, leading you to jump off the sill.

“mmm, fine, i’ll see you around, little feline.”

you never thought that the frequency of seeing mattheo around from once every two or so weeks would become an everyday occurrence, mostly in your animagus form. once, maybe around the morning, and a couple more times throughout the day. it was typically during your breaks, walking around the hallways as you usually did. he did a showcasing of his drawing of you whether it was in the usual spot of that sill where you first met in your animagus form or a candid, and those drawings were at a random. each and every single you had appreciated before he hides them into his notebook. outside of your feline moments, you were paired up with him in doing tasks for professors and the staff around the school, seeing as you two would be the common picks due to both of you regularly being in the hallway at the same time. getting to know each other on a different level, even noticing more habits and traits that he has had. though, it was awkward when the topic of your animagus had been brought up during a walk in the library, putting books up for some of the professors.

“anything new recently?” you questioned, placing back the introduction to water creatures into its vacant spot based on madam pince’s list of nonhelpful locations.

“studying and helping the quidditch team, nothing has been new with me,” he placed the book that you handed him on the top of the stack.

“what about any drawings?” you froze in your tracks, unsure if that hobby of his was even known to anyone.

“drawings? how did you know that i draw?” he also paused in his tracks.

“well, i taken up some doodling in my free time during classes and noticed that in charms, you like to doodle professor flitwick and the floating objects in the classroom pretty well,” you did take notice after finding this hobby of his that he continuously did draw at what you thought was him writing notes.

“not as secretive as i thought of that little thing of mine. well, actually, do you know that cat that will always hang around the hallways?” mattheo handed you another book to place within the shelves.

“filch’s cat?”

“no, not mrs. norris, it’s a much smaller cat. this feline has been the center of my art recently, maybe i’ll show you a new one in class next time. i see that cat pretty often, at least a couple of times a day, someone must have lost their pet and gave up,” he said with a chuckle.

“yeah, maybe,” you replied, not knowing what to say, “well, that’s the last book.”

“you said you doodled, right?” mattheo questioned, in which you hummed, agreeing to the statement. it was not a lie you did doodle. stick figures, that still counts. he continued, “do you want to come along with me in the morning before potions to draw this cat?”

no. i can’t, i am that cat. you turned to him, trying to figure out how to be there in two different forms, “maybe, we’ll see.”

“just say that you don’t want to hang out with the dark lord’s son, it’s alright,” mattheo playfully pouted.

that was a characteristic that you have never seen before from him, and he was trying to persuade you, using his dad’s name. you scoffed, “there was not a no in my response.”

“but, i know that’s what you meant. please,” he drawn out the please, adding hints of sweet in it to essentially charm you.

“fine, but i never even seen this cat,” you said.

“you’ll see, i basically attract this cat. see you in central hallway,” he clasped your shoulder before exiting the library. now, you were left to discover some sort of spell to double your bodies and how you do agree that he does attract you.

“it’s fine, i’ll just walk with him then leave then appear as a cat,” you flattened your robe, smoothing any crinkles out as you walked through the corridors to reach the destined hallway, seeing mattheo already walking towards you, backpack slung over his shoulder. a small smile appeared on his face, meeting your eye contact.

you waved before reaching to him, “so, where’s your little cat?”

“honestly, haven’t seen her around today. the one time i wanted to show her off, and she isn’t here,” he looked around the hall, trying to look around to spot the small feline, not knowing that she was right in front of me.

“aww, maybe, next time, how do you even know it’s a she,” you asked.

“just a wild guess, but if that she is actually a he, hopefully he’ll let me know,” he said, shoving down a piece of paper in his pocket.

you only glanced before looking at him once more, “well, mcgonagall needed to see me before potions, so, save me a seat.”

he nodded as his way of a farewell before walking inside the classroom. watching him enter and up and down the hallways for lingering students, hoping that the area was student free, you almost started to transform until the conversation within the classroom became much more audible.

“come on, you don’t think it’s odd that the cat always happens to meet you and certain people at certain times. plus, some students just came back from other schools for special training, what if your little cat friend is an animagus?” that statement was followed with laughter, recognizing that the person who said that was lorenzo berkshire. head always full of thoughts and a motor for a mouth.

“a professor, perhaps, or a student much closer to her,” someone else commented, hinting that the only other known animagus with a feline form was mcgonagall.

there was no way that he was not going to realize that you were an animagus and connect the points, he was aware that you were part of the groups that left hogwarts to study shortly at other schools. you did not want to share your face to him, mattheo may not be the greatest person in the bunch, coming to academics, but with enough effort, he was quite intelligent. you were sure most of the students connected the dots especially with your frequent visits with professor mcgonagall, always excelled at transfiguration and potions, gone to uagadou, there was not a doubt that even trying to keep it on the low, there were people that knew.

maybe walking in the classroom would combat the rumor of being an animagus. though, you already had told mattheo that you were going to be meeting with the professor that they had mentioned. you tried to convince yourself that him finding out was not all too bad, helps not trying to suppress the secret, but you enjoyed the attention that he had been giving you.

you pinched the bridge of your nose, persuading yourself just enough to tip the iceberg of walking in. entering seeing that you were essentially the last student to walk in and many students faced the entrance, especially that set of certain students, their eyes were on you. not to mention, the widening smirk of lorenzo as he locked his eyes with yours, “you know, that was a purr-fectly timed appearance.”

feeling your cheeks heat up, the cat was quite literally out the bag between you and lorenzo. he definitely knew, he always had some sort of information on every single person you know. you wondered if he was also an animagus as a small fly for the way he always has the buzz on the hogwarts student body. he sent a wink with a sly grin, which ushered you quickly out of class. it was going to be impossible without him dropping hints around you and could not allow someone else to drop your secret. even with calls of your name, there was no way that you would turn back.

“professor, do you know how embarrassing it is if riddle finds out that i am the feline he has been drawing?” you paced around the classroom. with the amount of times that you had walked your pattern in front of your mentor, there would certainly be a dent within the ground.

“perhaps, perhaps not. mr. riddle will more than likely be unbothered by the fact that you are an animagus. he seems too unbothered by any topic for that matter, just as ms. everwood confessed her feelings for him and he had said thank you and walked off as if nothing had happened,” your professor was too focused on other matters around the classroom to be bothered by your issues, but you were sure that she was going to share the same details with professor snape. you were alright with him knowing, it was not like he was not going to be able to read your mind with him being a power legilimen.

“you’re right, thank you, professor. will keep that in mind, i figured out what to do,” you said, all you had to do was just ignore him for the rest of the term or until you graduate. it was going to be impossible for you to not change into your animagus form as mcgonagall required you to change a couple of times a day, and there was not a chance that you could avoid him which was through analyzing the frequency of seeing him everyday. there was a giant possibility that you were overthinking this, as it was true. you just wanted to save yourself from the embarrassment from the intimate moments you had shared despite them being in your cat form.

“please, do update me on your animagus progress, as well as your situation with mr. riddle. concluding with your heightened embarrassment of him knowing, it would seem to me that you may have a crush on him and or value your friendship, as well as him revealing that secret of yours will ruin everything.”

as always, spot on at everything.

for the time being since your conversation with mcgonagall, your contact with mattheo had gone down drastically. attending potions much earlier to avoid having to sit next to him, though, lorenzo’s obvious cat jokes as he walked past you to go to the ingredients closet, it was something you wished to avoid. you were unsure if mattheo cared enough that you switched seats, using mcgonagall’s story regarding about evelyn everwood, he may have just moved on. additionally, you opted to stay in the astronomy tower now for a break when in your animagus form, despite enjoying the ground levels to stroll. you did remember a small exchange between lorenzo and mattheo during a potions practical;

“does mr. cat whisperer miss his feline friend?” there lorenzo goes again.

“and does the school's resident gossip hound miss wagging his tongue in everyone's business?” mattheo responded with the same tone.

“don’t be so grouchy, isn’t it a coincidence that someone stopped hanging out with you?” lorenzo had glanced at you when saying someone, knowing that you were listening.

there were certain times where you had close encounters with him trying to talk to unless you decided to deviate your path, pretending that you were busy in your notes as you walked in the hallway. you had made a habit to just have your notebook open, just in case he was around.

“mr. berkshire always intends to irritate others quite easily, but i am certain it is his tactic of getting information out of most people,” mcgonagall waved her hand to have the chalk write against the board in preparation for her next class.

before being able to respond back to her, there was a knock at the door. your head turned to the sound, only sinking into your chair and raising your hood to hide your face. it was very unlikely for mattheo to even talk to mcgonagall, unless he was failing a class.

“hello professor, snape had sent me over here saying that you needed me to help a student in returning boxes of ingredients to his closet,” he began to come closer due to the proximity of his voice getting louder with every step he had taken. damn, professor snape. the two professors must be working together in cahoots for whatever the reason may be according to your problems.

“yes, please assist (y/n) with those boxes over there. i would have done a spell, but professor snape wanted to ensure that the number of ingredients were done by hand and everything was correct for storage. off you go, i need to prepare for the upcoming period,” she dismissed the both of you. you knew that she was not going to respond if you tried to convince her, but you did trust her judgment and may be the only way to jump over the obstacle.

“of course, professor,” you shoved your hood down, trying to not make eye contact.

the collection of the boxes was quiet, one for you and one for him. there was an understanding between the both of you in doing your task, more so you quickly grabbing your box and walking out of the classroom. mattheo did not do much but just follow your lead, similar to your library duties. the walk was fast-paced and still silent, typically you had started most of the conversations, always starting with how has your week been going.

“how has your week been going?” he initiated.

“busy, just studying, you?��

“the same thing as you.”

“nic-“

“i am not one to beat around the bush, why have you been avoiding me?” he asked once more. straightforward. the synchronized clanking of the glass jars and footsteps was quieter, and it was just your own creating the sound.

“what do you mean? i said i was busy,” you awkwardly chuckled. you stayed still, but you had not turned to face him.

“not busy enough for you to stay in professor mcgonagall’s office for a couple hours of the day, your studying sessions in the courtyard and library has whisked you away to a different location. mind you, you never came to potions early enough, but you recently had to change seats,” mattheo pointed out the changes in your daily routine. it did not seem like a big of a deal, but no one would typically pay attention to the specifics of the times that you did things.

“are you spying on me, now?” you finally turned around, wondering why.

“no, just things i’ve noticed. also, when someone mentions cats or just anything of the sort, for instance.. lorenzo, that day, when he was talking about an animagus being my feline friend, were you offended that he brought up mcgonagall? if it is, i have enough dirt on him to drag down his reputation,” he offered. for someone with decent intelligence, he was not displaying enough critical thinking.

“it’s not that, mattheo, you didn’t understand the joke that he had said when i walked in?” you raised an eyebrow, typically he understood the complex jokes you thrown at him when you placed books back in the library.

he seemed to be taken back, hesitating, one expression that he rarely had, “the purr-fectly timed appearance, he was..”

hesitation once again. the raised eyebrow also did not leave your face, watching his once sturdy eye contact to be broken as you waited for him to complete his statement. he cleared his throat, “he was alluding to something else that we were discussing in the group.”

“which was?”

“i asked first, so, why have you been avoiding me?” he quickly veered away from you prying his answer. you were so close to revealing the mystery, and you were able to imagine the disappointment from mcgonagall in not completing her goal of this task between you and mattheo with professor snape. there was no way he would mind.

“okay, fine, no, we say our answers at the same time. i’ll answer your question, and with my question for you to answer is what the something else of that discussion as it pertains to me and i am nosy,” you looked at him, hoping he would take your proposition.

he walked closer to you, stopping with no space left between you two aside from the boxes that you both held in front of your torsos, “fine.”

“on three.”

“one.”

“two.”

“three.”

“i am the cat that you have been hanging around.”

“i have feelings for you.”

the surprised looks mirrored each other’s faces, only mattheo had his mouth agape which he closed. your embarrassment was overflowing your body, but the surprise of him confessing that he had liked you mixed in with the embarrassment. though, the combination just left your body heated.

“i also like you, if that helps,” you broke the silence despite feeling the warmest you ever been.

“no wonder why you said that drawing bit in charms,” he grinned. mcgonagall was correct, yet again, he seemed to overlook your animagus side, not even slightly bothered.

“so, you don’t mind me being an animagus?” you needed to make sure that it was clear that he did not mind, in order for your embarrassment to be resolved,

he shook his head, “it’s okay to be an animagus, that’s bloody amazing, actually.. enzo is quite smart in dropping that hint, it was quite purrfectly executed.”

you snorted, as you watched him move to stand by your side. there was so many questions running through your mind that you were unsure which option to pick to start at. you were just satisfied at the fact that he did not mind. though, you two had a mutual understanding was to leave it be for now and enjoy the moment.

“and so, the cat’s out of the bag.”

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biophonies · 9 months ago

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new thing for new business cards: some lush future Africa, de colon1zed & self determined, where the great green wall has grown thick and steady & date palms & mango trees could maybe share canopies, adapting to the new weather patterns & all hope is not lost

(see more things from me via my newsletter, patreon, or bluesky)

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 1 month ago

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🎄Wrapped Up In Christmas Memories🎄

a Doctor Strange x OC fic

genre: angst, catharsis, eventual healing...and above all love❤️💚

characters: Stephen Strange, Hope Collins (OC); established relationship

word count: 2.8k

Chapter Three

Lunch--and Hope, who had brought along a tray to his study with enough of the promised meal for the both of them--had been over an hour gone, and Stephen had made no progress at all.

He had been trying to delve into a freshly discovered manuscript that appeared to have been penned by The Ancient One when she had been apprenticed to Merlin, during his tenure as the Londinium Sanctum Master. Though it should have been a fascinating read, a slew of intrusive thoughts continued to hold his mind in an unforgiving grip.

What made it worse was they had nothing to do with the recent battle in Africa, nor the loss of life suffered or serious injuries incurred. It turned out the battle he was facing at this most inopportune time was trying his damnedest to keep the wall holding back his painful memories from collapsing after so many years of it being secure and reliable.

Dozens of now inescapable recollections surfaced the harder he tried to focus on the task before him, causing his eidetic memory to send a cascade of images from his youth--all with their attendant feelings--to cloud his mind. Christmases on the farm, the Christmases of his childhood, those carefree days before loss wreaked its terrible toll upon his heart. His mother, Beverly, gone before he'd graduated college. His sister Donna, whose tragic death cemented the course of his life to become a man of medicine. A man who had lived--despite his trademark arrogance--to save others in the best manner available to him, because he couldn't save her.

Setting his reading glasses atop the manuscript, Stephen sighed hard and covered his eyes with one hand. Leaning back in his chair, he considered if trying to meditate could be the remedy he needed. In answer, a long-forgotten image asserted itself behind his closed lids.

His mother, smiling down at him softly, as she accepted a drawing he'd made for her in school that afternoon, one of the last school days of the year before Christmas vacation. The afternoon light was brightly streaming through the window above the kitchen sink, a few dust motes swirling about within it.

That very particular quality of light--which always accompanied those final, wonderful, anticipatory days before Christmas, and ever left a warm, contented feeling in his chest when the season brought it back, even after he'd walled that memory away--shining in full upon his mother. How young and free of care she had appeared then, before silver strands had threaded her hair and sorrow had etched itself in the lines of her beloved face. Why she was the sun and the moon to me at six years old, Stephen realized. So gentle and understanding and beautiful to me. Tears prickled his eyes. And like Hope, a well of Christmas kindness.

Beverly Strange. The maleable blue-green of his eyes were one of her gifts to him, and a lifetime love of music in its many forms. Beverly Strange had been a music teacher before she ever became a farmer's wife. And for most of her life--despite how stony her husband grew over the years, grimly implacable in the face of what he found to be frivolous--she had done her best to fill their household with music. It was no fluke that Stephen developed such a great love for music that his prodigious intellect maintained a mental catalog of music trivia encompassing multiple genres.

Beverly had given private piano lessons as much for personal fulfillment as for the extra money the family had needed in lean years on the farm. Until the birth of Stephen's younger brother Victor, she had also volunteered as Choir Director at the community's small Lutheran church. Stephen could remember spending many an afternoon in the weeks leading up to Christmas and Easter in the choir loft, coloring quietly and humming along while Beverly conducted practice. Once her youngest child, Donna, had been old enough to sit in a church pew under Stephen's supervision (for their father rarely attended weekly services) Beverly had resumed a place in the choir and was often featured as a soloist during the holidays. Stephen had been damn proud watching his mother sing her favorite carol, Oh, Holy Night; how straight she had stood, free of his father's angry shadow, and of how flawlessly (to him, anyway) her notes had risen--in his child's mind he had been sure they had reached Heaven itself.

Most of all, though, he had always been proud to see when some parishioner or another was moved to tears by the purity of her rendition. Decades later, he could easily recall that feeling if he allowed himself to remember, could hear her in his mind--but the pain of Donna's death and the toll it wreaked upon his mother had long since precluded him from indulging in such sentimental recall. Beverly's music had fallen mute the day his sister had drowned; she had never sung in church again, nor had Stephen ever heard her sing in their own home in the too short years that followed before her grief prematurely aged her into the grave.

Stephen himself had adopted a stoic mien in the wake of losing Donna, internalizing the blame he felt for failing to save her, and by extension, their mother. Nearly two decades later, it still hurt too damn much to remember the first--and very rare--people who had loved him unconditionally, as both had been lost to him well before their time. And as his most vibrant memories of them included Christmastimes, he had turned his back on all but the most superficial of holiday celebrations.

He had kept his painful thoughts and memories buried deep in all the years since and had only confessed them to Christine (whom he realized in retrospect was the third soul to have loved him unconditionally) one sloppy, drunken night two months after his accident. She had given him what solace she could, gently urging him to not be so hard on himself, reminding him that both Donna and Beverly would wish for him to seek some healing, and staying with him until he drifted into a dreamless sleep. When she returned to check on him the next day, he had closed himself off again, rejecting her concern as unnecessary. Brushing off the incident as impertinent to his current life and goals.

But now...oh now! A wee bit at a time, Hope--who loved him as unconditionally as his past dear ones--had been chipping away at that wall. Reintroducing Christmas into his life by osmosis, without a hint of pressure for him to embrace the season. As she'd promised over two weeks ago, she'd gone about her Christmasing without the sort of fuss that might bother him. With each little Yuletide advance she had made in the Sanctum, he had found himself relaxing and accepting, smiling in concession, happy to play witness to her happiness in the season. With Christmas closing in, Stephen had begun contemplating what sort of gift he might manage for his own Who-girl. He'd been hoping to find a gift that spoke his heart clearly, but each idea that had come to mind fell flat soon after he thought it up.

His attempt to study The Ancient One's chronicle seemed doomed to fail today, for Stephen now found himself additionally distracted not only by the question of what to give Hope, but also by the carols she was playing in the living room portion of his quarters. Celtic Woman, he told himself with no effort to recall the facts; released October 2006, peak chart position number one on Billboard for US Worldwide Albums. The trilling of the all female group was pleasant enough, but not at all conducive to the study he was attempting.

Meaning to simply ask Hope to lower the volume so he could concentrate, Stephen rose and headed the short way to the main room of his suite. The fragrances of cranberry and evergreen greeted him as he drew near, for she'd made a substantial investment in candles for the season, and they were clearly alight as she wrapped presents. Hope was deep in her element and happy to be so.

The music paused between tracks, and when it resumed, it stopped Stephen in his. The opening strains of O, Holy Night filled the air, and in a heartbeat they landed upon him, sending him back to his youth, well before he had known loss and heartbreak. To those crisp, cold Nebraska evenings when his heart had swelled with love and pride to see his mother sing. Unprepared as he was for those powerful images and sounds to fill his senses, Stephen backed away, his eyes stinging with tears of mixed grief and recollection. Tears he'd put off for far too long in his quest to avoid the pain. And yet he knew that just several feet around the corner was the very soul who had given him the exact comfort, love, and strength he'd needed to complete the dreadful journey he had undertaken to save this Universe from Thanos--and that she'd be only too glad to learn this part of his past and help him find healing. If he, at last, could brave facing it.

By some remarkable coincidence, or as if she'd heard his thoughts, Hope's answer came unbidden, her voice blending in as though it had been meant to be a message for his ears alone.

'Sweet hymns of joy, in grateful chorus raise we..., ' she sang as his heart seemed to crack open in bittersweet relief. 'Fall on your knees, O hear the angels voices...' Stephen wrapped his arms across his chest while he wept to remember the love and warmth that had been his in the little church and in every moment spent in his mother's company. How had he made himself ignore such a miraculous gift? Surely the joy of it far outweighed the sorrow! How foolish to have gone so long without allowing himself such comfort.

The carol now drew swiftly to it's close, and still his Hope sang sweetly, following the notes faithfully, unaware that she had reawakened a dormant part of his heart. 'O night,' she crooned, in happy harmony with those recorded singers, 'O night divine!' He swiped his tears away with both his palms, deciding he must tell her this part of his story. His reasons for divorcing Christmas from his life. And that he understood at last that every day of this beautiful season, she'd been patiently showing him that love was stronger than even grief.

The decision made at last, Stephen steeled himself to share what he had hidden from even himself for far too long. Drew several slow calming breaths with the discipline of his Order. Silently ran through the things he wished to share with Hope. And then patiently channeled the energy of his aligned chakras to bolster his resolve and his ability to share not only his story, but all of the feelings filling his heart.

Calmer now, feeling a quiet peace he had never dreamed of achieving regarding the sad experiences of his younger self, Stephen wiped away the last of his tears. Though Hope would likely read what he was feeling in just a few moments anyway, he didn't want to alarm her--for in the end, the revelation to come would be good for his soul and for the future that they were building together.

Her back was turned to him as he rounded the corner so that Stephen paused a moment to take in the sight of the homey Christmas that Hope had created. The tree she'd designed to please him topped with her family heirloom star. The lighted evergreen garland dressing the fireplace mantle and archways between the hallway and next room. Flameless candles in the windows. Lovingly wrapped presents beneath the tree, the paper on each accented with an ornament or decorative trinket. And her latest addition, personalized stockings hanging from the mantle. His, of course, was blue & red and featured a felt version of the Eye of Agamotto (her own creation) and other mystical symbols. Hope had added a light blue, sequined butterfly ornament to her own red & gold stocking, attached near the hanging loop--a lovely reminder of how they had met, a couple of months before The Blip.

A wave of love and gratitude seemed to envelop him. Hope hadn't just made his suite of rooms--indeed, the Sanctum itself--homey. She had turned it into a home. A home the like of which he hadn't experienced since his childhood.

Gently, he cleared his throat to get her attention. "Hope...honey..." he started, but then fell silent when she turned his way.

Her sunny smile greeted him, but just as he had expected, she read his face, the mix of all his emotions writ there, and was immediately on her feet and heading his way. "Stephen, is...is everything okay? Are you alright? Is there...some word from Kamar-Taj?"

"I'm fine, honey. Everything is fine." She stood before him studying his face, trying to decide if he was attempting to downplay whatever appeared to be troubling him. Stephen took her hand. "Come sit with me a bit. There's something I want to share with you," he told her, leading her back to the sofa,"Something I've done my best to ignore for far, far too long." The concern on Hope's face only deepened. "You don't have to worry, sweetheart. For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm ready to face the ghosts of my Christmases past--and finally keep them from spoiling a most wonderful Christmas present."

Hope gasped in soft surprise, and Stephen raised her hand to kiss it, then assured her, "Because both you--and I--deserve the brightest Christmas we can make for one another."

(just one brief chapter left to go)

🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄

tagging: @strangedreamings @ben-locked @aeterna-auroral-avenger @hithertoundreamtof23 @mckiwi @ironstrange1991 @darsynia @icytrickster17 @aphroditesdilemma @veryladyqueen

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dotterelly · 2 months ago

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youtube

I heard about this project a few years ago, then happened across this recent update video for it. The great green wall in Africa - an attempt to block the expansion of the Sahara desert that is not only working but also providing food and water for local populations at the same time, not to mention access to plants used in local medicines as well. There's a lot of work still to do, but it's amazing to see how far they've come!

#positive change #love to see it #the great green wall #Youtube

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dragonnan · 2 months ago

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youtube

50:12

The Great Green Wall: Africa’s Answer to Desertification | FULL DOCUMENTARY

#conservation #taking back the desert #sahara #Youtube

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enigmatist17 · 10 months ago

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Weight of the World (Part 5)

Part 1 2 3 4

This is the final chapter of this, but not of the series I'm doing as a whole I named Branching Path, which you can find on A03 all neatly together :)

---

Spike grumbled as he shifted in his seat for the dozenth time, grateful the first-class cabin was delightfully empty on his side of the aircraft.

Spike was not a fan of flying.

He'd never understood the damn obsession to soar above the earth in these bloody machines, when there were perfectly good things like ships and trains to travel great distances. Yet, it was the only way he was getting to sodding South Africa in the next century, so for now, he'll sit and scowl until they finally land just before dawn. A demon-run taxi business got the vampire to his hotel for the next day, some of the cash Giles had given him securing the vampire a car and the specifics of where it was he needed to go, the demon he'd been dealing with surprised that Spike wanted to go there.

"I've never seen a vampire come back from there, you know."

"If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked." The other shrugs, and Spike spends the day sleeping as much as he can despite the thrum of anxiety underneath his pale skin. By the time the sun sets, a 4-wheel SUV with blacked-out windows is awaiting Spike, and after partaking of some blood that had been packed in the backseat, Spike pulls out his map and begins to drive. It took a solid two days of steady driving to reach his destination, spending most of it debating back and forth if what he was doing was right. Did he deserve this? Did he need this? He'd heard stories of the person he was going to, a demon who could grant wishes of almost any kind if you survived a brutal gauntlet of challenges, the number uncomfortably short from what Spike had heard over the years. Yet here he was, an utter fool going toward what could be death...for a Slayer and her sister.

What has his unlife come to?

His car comes to its final stop outside a small village. Spike drains the last of the blood in his car before he steps out and takes a long and slow breath. Dozens of eyes look over at him almost simultaneously. The humans are still talking and enjoying their evenings but watching a vampire cross through their land with a purpose, ignoring what could be easy meals for the cave system that overlooked their home.

Not many things made a vampire's hair stand on end, but whatever was in these caves made Spike want to turn tail and run. Another breath taken, Spike fished his lighter out of his pocket before flicking it on, wanting to see whatever had been painted on the walls all around him as he advanced. Depictions of death weren't terribly surprising, the drawings becoming more simplistic and looking faded as he cautiously ventured deeper inside, the inquisitive side of him wondering just how old some of these paintings were, just before his flame was snuffed out.

You seek me, vampire?

The voice was everywhere and nowhere all at once, Spike looking around as he continued to venture forward, tucking the lighter back in his pocket.

"You do the finger paintings? Nice work." Spike wanted to cringe at how his normal sass wavered but found that fighting his ever-increasing instincts won out over his pride.

Answer me

"Yea, I seek you."

Something about a woman. The Slayer and her kin made from the stars

"Yea." Spike slowly approached the figure he could now see in the shadows, a low warning hovering in his throat. "Everything's gone to hell, and I'm tired of not being a bad enough bitch for it."

Why does this want you to return to your former self?

The being almost sounds amused, and Spike scowls.

"I can't be the man I wanted to be for the Slayer, never got a soddin' chance, but 'er little sister? She deserves protectin', and I figure I'm the closest thing she's got to one, but I'm no good like this." The vampire waves a hand over himself, and the green eyes continue to watch him. "You know what I want, and I'm willing to do anything."

The being laughs now, the scowl deepening as the figure begins to walk backward.

Look what you've been reduced to, a once legendary dark warrior now pining like a pathetic human. Do you truly believe you will survive what I have for you?

"Give me your best shot." His answer is a snarl, and the being now fades into the darkness surrounding them both.

Prepare yourself vampire.

---

Time seems to pass to the beat of its own drum here. It feels like hours since the being spoke to him, but Spike could be patient; he could wait. He knows that combat and the like will be needed, so to save clothing for later, his boots, socks, and shirt get removed, folded neatly, and placed by some of the cave drawings so he can find his way out when all is done.

It would be done, because he wasn't going to die in some bloody cave, not after everything.

It is time for the first trial, do you understand what I require?

The sudden voice make him flinch, Spike taking a slow and deep breath before nodding, assuming this thing could see him.

"Yea yea, it's not like you haven't been clear about it, oh great, mysterious one." The sass doesn't waver this time; the vampire knows what he's here for and can feel the beginning of his adrenaline rush as he focuses, pacing around the caves that now resemble an arena more than it did a few minutes ago. "This is a test. I don't get what I want unless I pass said test. That about the size and shape?"

Yes

"And since your pad is decked out gladiator-style, and no number two pencils have been provided, I guess we're not starting with the written." He can hear that cursed laugh from wherever the bloody thing is, hands clenching and unclenching as he circles the room. The punch from something behind him sends Spike rocketing to the side, using the wall he fell against as a springboard to land a punch back at whatever it is that had tried to hit him.

It was a massive mountain of a bloke, some sort of joke dancing on Spike's tongue as they sized each other up, but it died just as quickly when the man banged his fists together, lighting them on fire.

To the death

"Son of a -" Heat radiates from the entirety of the right side of his face as Spike is decked with a solid punch, landing back onto his ass as the man quickly moves to follow with more blows. He's able to scramble back to avoid a few hits, but ends up taking one to his chest when Spike quickly gets to his feet, throwing him back enough to slam onto the wall behind him. He doesn't have a chance to move before flaming hands grip his upper arms, skin sizzling as Spike desperately slams his head into the other's face, the man letting out a pained noise and stumbling back. By the time he'd righted, Spike had squirreled away again, the larger man letting out a guttural cry before following after the vampire. While most demons were too prideful to realize when retreat was a wise idea, Spike was not one of those fools, which had served him and his survival well. While he was far more the brawler than his Sire and Grandsire's had ever been, Angelus had carved into him the need to analyze and learn from his more powerful foes when to fight and when to draw things out for the advantage. So he did just that, dodging and weaving while taking continual hits, waiting for his time to strike. It comes when he receives another uppercut to the face, Spike falling to the ground with a groan of pain, the vampire hearing the man rearing up another punch.

He does the worst thing possible and catches the approaching first in his hand. Both he and the other are surprised as Spike uses the distraction to get onto his feet, punching the other man back with a snarl.

"Bad move, bad move, bad move." The other man glares and shoots his arm forward, realizing too late that Spike had leaned down far enough to catch his wrist, flipping him onto the ground with a thud. The vampire wastes no time in kicking the other square between the legs, watching as his enemy turns to try and get up again, exposing his back to Spike, who simply walks over and snaps his neck with a quick jerk of his hands.

"Looks like local boy loses." His words end in a half-delirious laugh, Spike panting heavily as he takes in the victory.

So it would appear

The demon steps forward in curiosity, and Spike gives him a nasty grin.

"Good on me, then, eh? I got what I came for; I passed the test, right?"

Indeed, you have passed the first stage of the test.

"Wait...first stage?" The victory high came crashing down as fast as it had burst in his chest, and the dread of fighting another beast made him tremble slightly. "Bugger."

---

Time truly doesn't pass in these caves, perhaps another test for the poor souls who come to this bloody hell on earth.

Spike had lost count of the foes he faced, demons who looked human to those whom he'd only seen in books, real or otherwise, all trying to kill the vampire like it was their holy calling. He knows it's all a test, a way for the demon who lurked beyond even his own enhanced sight to weed out the weak from the strong or some shit, but he couldn't be arsed to care. He was William the Bloody, no one could best him, and no one was going to take what he came for from him, the latest horned foes going down when Spike sliced its head off. Exhausted, Spike grabs the head and staggers back to the entrance of his latest combat arena, chucking the head towards those bloody green eyes.

"That was a bloody doddle and a piece o' piss." He groaned, falling to his knees for just a moment's rest, glaring at those eyes with as much fury as he could muster. "Got any more ruddy tests for me, you ponce? I'll take anything you can throw at me, if it'll get me what I need. Bring it on, bring on the whole -" He stops when there's a loud crunching noise from below him, throat tightening when he feels something begin to crawl up from the depths and up his body. "Bloody hell..."

There are hundreds of them, hundreds of scarab beetles that scrape and gnaw at his skin, crawling into his nose and mouth and it's pure agony.

He's not sure when he fell down, but he didn't scream, just writhing around on the floor as he kept them in, hands clenched so hard he pierced his skin as the agony continued for what felt like an eternity.

Buffy and Dawn, Buffy and Dawn, he loves them so much he won't scream.

Soon, merciful darkness takes him.

The thudding of approaching footsteps is what drags him from the darkness, his body so battered Spike can do little more than to lie on the floor and see what awaited him next.

You have endured the required trials

"Bloody right I have." He doesn't ever want to move again, but he refuses to face this bastard on the ground, so with a shuddering breath Spike turns and pushes himself onto his knees, knowing he wasn't going to be making it fully upright.

"Give me what I want." Spike shudders at the cool air to his back, the chant of Buffy and Dawn keeping him from revealing any weakness. "Make me what I was, what I need."

Very well. We will return your soul

Spike doesn't see the hand that comes from the darkness; the moment it touches him, the world burns. His entire body is burning as something he'd forgotten claws its way inside, settling into a hole he'd never felt and searing its very presence into every square inch of his body. His eyes glow as he looks for something, anything, to stop the pain, but there is nothing there but the darkness of the caves.

You walk with a soul once more

Spike struggles to force air down his dead lungs as the burning begins to slowly fade, head spinning as he crawls up and onto his feet, now very alone and closer to the exit than he remembered. He can hear someone talking, more than one someone, but they go unacknowledged by the vampire when another effect of his newly acquired soul hits him like a freight train.

The screaming washed over him like a tidal wave, and Spike fell to his knees with wide eyes as voices from the last 120 years clamored to be heard, all of them so angry.

He doesn't feel the needle that is inserted into his neck, once more falling into a darkness that now terrifies him more than anything.

----

Three weeks later

----

Wesley Wyndam-Price was finishing up the last of his paperwork for the evening when he heard the front door to the Hyperion open. He sighed at his now lost evening before going to greet whoever appeared.

"Hello, welcome to - " His jovial greeting dies in his throat when he takes one look at the person who had entered. "Spike?"

The vampire who had entered said nothing in return, and had it not been for the platinum-blonde tips to curly brown hair, Wesley wasn't sure if he would have recognized Spike right away. It doesn't help his infamous duster is also missing, the vampire wavering in place clad in scuffed boots and ripped jeans, his black shirt little more than shreds from something that had clawed at it repeatedly. Spike doesn't seem to be aware of his surroundings; whatever he's saying to himself is a constant stream of languages that switch faster than Wesley can pick up, his eyes soon wandering toward the door.

"Spike, you don't need to go." Spike's eyes snap to Wesley, but it's clear he's not all there, the other slowly raising his hands. "You're quite safe here, I promise."

"No, no, no, no, no one's safe from William." The words are nearly drowned out by the crazed giggles Spike bursts into, the sound nearly making Wesley jump. The vampire wavers in place before deciding a nearby bench is a place to take refuge, collapsing onto it, and curling in on himself with more giggles. "I'm not safe, not safe, not safe, not safe." He seems to be done talking as he tries his best to imitate an armadillo; Wesley slowly steps backward until he can reach the phone on the front desk, dialing a familiar number as quick as his shaking fingers can.

"Hello?" Relief floods Wesley, and after another check to see if Spike has still not moved, he relaxes further. "Hello?"

"It's me....Angel, he's here."

"Don't let him leave; I'll be right down." The line clicks as it goes dead, and Wesley carefully places the receiver down before approaching the curled-up man with what he hopes is a friendly smile.

"Spike?" The man doesn't move, except for one eye peering out from the little space between his limbs. "Are you in any pain?"

"Pain?" The answer is slightly muffled, and Spike begins to laugh again after a moment. "I deserve it, the pain. All of it, all of it because the voices are right; they are right because I am a bad, bad, bad, bad man, a bad man whom you should stake. It's justice, innit?"

"No, I don't believe it is." The former Watcher moves closer, that impossible eye following him without a blink, wanting to say more, but pauses when a familiar figure hovers in his peripheral, stepping back to allow them to step forward.

"Angel." Spike's voice is flat when his grandsire kneels beside him, his expression neutral as the other looks at him. "Have you come to kill me?"

"No." The older vampire shakes his head, Spike flinching when he raises his hand and covers his head again.

"Please stop, please stop I'm sorry." Angel gently rests his hand over one of Spike's hands, the smaller man trembling like a leaf in the wind when he gives a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"I know." Angel remains by Spike's side for a good hour, the man switching between pleads and bouts of laughs he can't stop until finally, Spike uncovers his head again.

"Can I rest now?"

#buffy the vampire slayer #spike #spike btvs #william the bloody #william pratt #angel #angel btvs #wesley wyndam pryce #season 5 #this is the last one of this set #but not of the series I have going on for this #personal

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