#dobby horse

[these-summer-nights-in-december]

[aplateoflasagna]

Okay fine! Jaehyuk was not part of my original T5 line-up, but the tweets have convinced me 😩 He needs to be part of T5 istg 🙏

[goldenwoods]

I don't want to beat the dead horse of 'Harry Potter's depiction of enslaved house elves is disgusting' but...I simply can't help myself. It still leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and I made this account to rant, after all.

So, I knew that Harry Potter never solved systemic slavery, nor even condemned it as a system. Treating house elves badly was a big no, but enslaving them in general? Debatable to say the least, says the narrative. But a recent conversation with a friend made me remember some details about just how bad it was.

First of all, though the freeing of elves via socks is a repeated element, information regarding how house elves are enslaved (or indeed, how they are born) are never shown. It's some nebulous 'bound by magic' thing and George said they come with old manors (huh?). The narrative deliberately presents all of them in an already enslaved state. Enslavement is, in the Harry Potter universe, the natural state of elves while freedom on the other hand is something that requires an external 'act', something unnatural. Elves are not shown to naturally possess autonomy which is thereafter systematically deprived, rather, they are born as part of a wizard family's property. This is pretty disturbing and sets the foundation for the narrative's whole "slavery is okay because house elves like it!' thing.

The second problem is Harry Potter himself. Harry is infuriatingly passive in front of disgusting acts of slavery. And it's not because he's a shy or apathetic character. Harry will stand up for people, is quite rash about it in fact, and even at his calmest will issue an appropriately scathing remark. But when Winky, someone who's whole kind has been enslaved and abused for who knows how long, sprouts of stuff she's been conditioned to believe like 'we're not paid, and Dobby wanting to be is unbecoming', or 'we're not supposed to have fun' or 'we do what we're told', Harry doesn't tell her 'No? You are entitled to individual autonomy, enslaving you is wrong.' but he's just like 'eh.....Dobby's cool, let him live his life.' and when Hermione complained about their oppression, the book states, literally, "Harry shook his head and applied himself to his scrambled eggs." and "True, both [Harry and Ron] had paid two Sickles for a S.P.E.W. badge, but they had only done it to keep her quiet." and regarding a professor using house elves to test for poison, Harry simply thought 'welp, guess Hermione's gonna be pissed about that, better not mention it'. (???) What the hell is going on with the good guys here, Rowling? Is this the approved attitude towards slavery?

Thirdly, of course, is the whole 'house elves love being enslaved' thing. Which...silly me for thinking Rowling was trying to critique systemic oppression...and not trying to shove it under the rug after using one poor oppressed elf to characterise bad guy Lucius. I mean, Hagrid's reasoning as to why we shouldn't free elves is absurd, he explains that it's 'in their nature to look after humans, that's what they like', they'd be unhappy to have their work taken away, and they'd be insulted if they got paid. Which is, first of all, a demonstrably untrue statement, because Dobby loved being paid. ('in their nature' generalisations proven to be inaccurate? What a shock!) But even putting that aside, how does this translate to slavery? You could...I don't know, free them and let them voluntarily be cooks, cleaners, servants, whatever, instead of keeping them under a 'magical bound' that makes coerced self-harm possible. They can...take care of you and be your servants if they really want to without being your property. What the hell.

Last but not least is how the only time the narrative made Ron Weasley ('good guy' who's exasperated by Hermione's house elves movement) openly consider the well-beings of house elves is when they wanted to set up Ron and Hermione's big romantic kiss. There's something so gross about Rowling trying to finalise her haphazardly-written romance with her poorly-written slaves, a group that she had, in the last few books, already mercilessly exploited for "comedy" via Hermione's unsuccessful activism. And it's...not even that significant. Ron: 'Hey, don't you think we shouldn't trap enslaved elves in a sieged castle that's about to become a death pit?' Hermione, and the narrative by extension: 'You're amazing, Ron! For showing them basic decency!' *aggressive kissing ensues*

And then Rowling made a whole crowd of house elves (along with a bunch of other systemically oppressed races that she couldn't bother writing properly) rush into battle on Harry/Hogwarts' behalf because wow, isn't he benevolent towards the enslaved? They love him! Like...no, Rowling, you didn't earn the 'all races unite' moment, rather you screwed it over so badly that your feel-good climax presents a picture of slaves rushing to defend their masters, who, I might add, just kind of forgot about them and decided that establishing nuclear families with a bunch of kids and no evil baddie anymore means 'all is well', systemic issues be damned.

[smileyfacemojisworld]

Harry Potter Headcanons:

At Colin Creevey’s funeral, everyone put flowers on his grave except for Harry Potter- He gave a signed photo

During the battle of Hogwarts, Nearly Headless Nick lost his head and joined the headless horse hunt, leaving Griffindor without their ghost so Fred Weasley took over for him

During Ginny’s wedding, George danced with her twice, one for him and one for Fred

After Fred died, Lily took care of him just like Molly took care of Harry

George couldn’t produce another patronus cuz all of his happy memories were with Fred

Draco Malfoy used to play with Dobby as a kid

After the battle of Hogwarts, Harry went to find the resurrection stone so the Weasleys could see Fred

[unfortunate--moth]

Absolutely share some, please 🙏

- Milgranon

Ok here we go

Then who's watching Foxy?!

We all have them! Who needs them? They're just like us.

He's on his period

Say Gex

the ruikasa kissing gif

they want me to give up and kill myself but i wont let the pillsbury fascists win (pillsbury can be replaced by whatever is more relevant to the convo)

blasted dog stole me nugget

Nasty Freak Monday

tboy/tgirl/nb summer fun

Mista in the milk carton

monday already? You know what that means!

the dobby gif.

the apple gif.

the watermelon picture.

Horse plinko

Right now? Tonight? Right now?

Is this weezer?

This is pervert country

theres probably more but i cant think

[thats-by-the-by]

Reopening Wounds

This fic was crossposted on Ao3. Find it Here. Mind the tags

Connor stumbles, holding onto his aching side. He knows he's still bruised, the injuries he sustained in the prison - during his execution and escape - making themselves increasingly known. He's cleared his name, for the most part. Signed that document that should change the colonies for the better. It's finally time for him to return home. It's finally time for him to rest.

He just has to make it home first.

The horse he's riding on is a sweet thing - a gentle mare that Dobby had rescued from a British soldier - though even she can't avoid the way the roads are laid out. She goes as smoothly as she can, as Connor rides her through the forest, but he jostles in the saddle, holding tightly to the reigns.

He just has to get home.

He blinks back tears as he feels something tear in his back. A cut - not too deep, he hopes - that he had gotten in the prison. A lucky hit from one of the other prisoners, who had cut him with the shards of some plate. He had dealt with it at the time, and it had scabbed over fairly quickly, but it was still painful.

And now hot, sticky blood, is coating his back again.

He's so close to home.

Connor stops the mare, leading her off the road and into a well hidden clearing. He just needs to bandage it again, then he can keep going. Pack the wound with some moss to spare the gauze he has, and see the good doctor when he makes it back to the homestead. It's fine. If he's quick about it, he won't even have to set up camp for the night. If he's quick enough, the bleeding won't even bother him during the rest of the ride.

Connor jumps off the horse, his knees buckling immediately as his feet hit the ground. Where there was once fog around the corners of his eyes, there is now no ground beneath him as the fog covers his eyes in snow and static. The dirt is soft and warm, pulling him into its caring embrace.

He's so tired.

Connor shuts his eyes. Five minutes. Then he'll fix whatever is wrong.

~~~

Connor opens his eyes slowly. It's difficult to pull them open, as though there was spiders silk keeping them stuck together. He blinks, slow and methodical, as the world pulls itself together in front of him. It's early morning, a fire burnt out in front of him, the coals glowing orange amidst the burnt logs. Another horse stands next to his mare, with a dark coat and wild eyes. There's a bedroll on the other side of the fire, and Connor's shirt is laid out on a log, drying out in the warmth of the fire. Connor himself is propped up against a tree, someone gently packing the wound on his back.

Connor jolts forward, his mind coming back to himself.

"Calm down." Haytham Kenway - Connor's father - snaps tiredly. "You're going to tear your back open again at this rate."

Connor tries to move away, to keep this enemy in his line of sight before he can be stabbed in the back. If he's going to die, he's going to look his killer in the face. Haytham grabs his shoulder harshly, yanking him backwards his a disapointed sigh.

"Truly, you are as stubborn as Achilles. Let me finish wrapping your wounds and you can go back to trying to kill yourself with your stupidity." Haytham spits. Connor holds still, waiting for a cold knife to slide its way between his ribs. For all his old wounds and scars to be forcibly reopened.

He stares at the burns on his hands - old and faded, barely visible anymore - while his father finishes bandaging his back. It's finished rather quickly, and the Templar grand master stands, packing up his bedroll and supplies in silence. Connor watches him, lightheaded and skeptical. He just killed one of Haytham's Templars, and the man helps him? Connor doesn't understand - and he isn't sure he wants to know why either.

He just wants to get home.

[rockingrobin69]

Victorian AU: prologue

The new stable boy started on the last breath of summer: Draco had far more important things to worry about at the time. Like complaining endlessly, alternating between demanding and begging Father to allow him to remain in town for another season. Like staring longingly at the outfits Mother was having made, not-yet ready, and like sighing and sitting at the windows a lot, thinking how anything would be better than being stuck in the Manor for a six-months.

The appearance of Lord Riddle on their property stirred him just as much as that of the stable boy. Riddle was the worst possible companion as the weather turned: he was maudlin and quiet, chillingly rude, and worst of all, old. Draco missed his friends like a perpetual fish-bone stuck in his throat, and although they had all promised to visit, none had yet done him the courtesy. He was alone in a Manor full of old, boring people, and had nothing nice to wear, and nothing new to read, and nothing at all to do but stare and be miserable.

No-one seemed to care for his very obvious plight. All Father had said was, “cease your sulking at once,” and Mother droned on and on about the nearing ball at the Goyle estate. Nearing meaning in a month, for heaven’s sake: what was Draco supposed to do until then?

Staying with Auntie Bellatrix surely wasn’t a treat, but at least it was out there, in the heart of the action. Here, alone, and miserable, alone, Draco was… alone.

Marcus wasn’t any help. When Draco came to his office to grumble, sitting on his desk and kicking his feet, all he said was that he’s ‘very busy’ and to ‘excuse him, Sir,’ which wasn’t at all satisfying. Mr. Dobby, the head butler, wouldn’t even look at him as he careened down the halls; and the seamstress flatly forbade him from the fitting-chambers, seeing as he was ‘pulling on everyone’s last nerve’ and being ‘utterly obnoxious’. Draco would reach majority next June, and not quite forgave her this: seeing as the kitchen was also off-limits, and Cook a far more fearsome opponent, he turned to the stables.

Mr. Hagrid was Draco’s childhood nemesis, before he’d learned to ride. After that he became a well-respected foe, then, highly-regarded acquaintance, and now, an amiable one. He didn’t complain about Draco’s demeanour or his pouting, instead he gave him a brush and a grimace.

“Go on,” in a tone that wasn’t even offensive, and Draco, who loved his horse better than possibly even Pansy, went.  

Her name was Isolde, because Draco was a dramatic child and he definitely hadn’t planned on liking her at all. She was a beautiful thing, strong and quick, with powerful muscles and a soft white mane and the richest, loveliest brown eyes. She, unlike almost everyone, seemed happy to see him.

“Darling,” Draco said as he approached, and pet a loving hand down her flank, “it’s been too long.”

Isolde said nothing, but bore his grooming with good grace. She was given to Draco mostly because of her colouring, because all the ladies had crooned about how lovely a white foal would look under the blond-white lordling. To say they didn’t get along at first would be an understatement: now, she was as familiar to him as the back of his hand, and far more treasured.

And she did look terribly clever under him. Attaching her saddle with reverent fingers, smoothing down the braids he had mindlessly tied, he started leading her out of the stables, already measurably cheered. Then:

“Hold!” a young voice he didn’t recognise. Draco paused with a curious brow raised. “No-one’s allowed to take this mare. You’ll be so kind as to put her back, my lord.”

“How do you mean?” Draco frowned.

“She’s the young sir’s own horse, and he doesn’t allow anyone to ride her. If you’re a guest of the Earl’s, then you’re free to pick any of the other, most excellent steeds.”

Draco didn’t know whether to be amused or outraged. “Are you saying Isolde is not most excellent?”

“Well, if you ask me, she’s a little bit prissy and—hey!” when Draco rounded behind her and stuck an accusing finger in the man’s chest. “You’re—oh.”

“Oh,” Draco breathed out, dangerously. “Oh, indeed. One more word about my horse, and I’ll—who even are you?”

The man—boy?—gulped, bright green eyes wide behind round glasses. “I’m Harry. And you’re—”

“Draco,” as venomously as he could spit it. “Draco Malfoy.”

“Oh.”

He was shorter than Draco, but wider, a strong-looking build. Possibly around his age, give or take a year or so. Dark skin and darker hair, wide brow and respectable jawline. And stupid, as was painfully obvious from his remarks about the world’s best horse. “You’ll have to apologise, of course,” Draco smiled icily.

“I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t realise—”

“To the horse.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Harry opened and closed his mouth twice. “To the—horse?”

“Apologise to Isolde. For someone to speak of a divine creature so coarsely is an offence to nature herself. Apologise, now.”

Harry’s mouth was slightly open. He had very red lips. “I,” he said, and gulped, “am. Sorry. Isolde.”

“For speaking so coarsely,” Draco offered helpfully.

“For speaking so coarsely. You are of course a divine creature and I regret besmirching your name with my foul lips. Is that enough, my lord?”

Something jumped in Draco’s belly, a twinge of—he didn’t quite know what. “I think that would do, for now,” loftily, and pet a reassuring hand down Isolde’s crest. “You slip, Mr. Hagrid,” when he clocked the giant figure standing at the entrance to the stables. “The men you used to hire weren’t the brightest, perhaps, but anyone would be better than this impossible buffoon.”

“He’s not that bad, milord,” Mr. Hagrid said with a strange expression, almost nearing a smile he was trying to swallow. “Pray, give him some time, and he might prove himself to you as quite handy.”

“I doubt it,” said Draco. He led Isolde out and cast a glance back, to where Harry was standing frozen and Mr. Hagrid’s shoulders were shaking. “Make sure not to mistake me again,” he said, and hopped on the saddle, and rode away.

Winter was going to be a long, dreary season stuck out here in the country, so far from all his friends and the lively attractions of the city. Draco might have just found something to make it a tiny bit more bearable: atop his favourite horse, he rode towards the forest with a widening grin.

I'm just too excited not to share this! Damn, writing every day was such a rush, but working on a longer project (currently at 13k) feels good too.

[jojosbizarresecondlife]

the sickly dobby dance led to the horses entering my home

[off-topic-ig]

This came to me in a dream. I'm not kidding. And in my dream it was actually one of their better ones, and given these fuckers did rainbow dash vs starscream I wouldn't put this past them

And yes I know that image of dobby is incredibly cursed. It's honestly the first thing that showed up and all the other pics were kind of crap anyway so I decided fuck it, might as well embrace the weird, uncanny, cringe, cursed energy. That's kind of what memes are all about.

This whole concept is so incredibly cursed. Gollum and the LOTR series is cursed because a character that is meant as a warning of the corrupting power of greed and avarice is now the mascot used to sell mediocre merchandise exploiting the nostalgia and brand recognition of Tolkien's work. If there's a heaven, and Tolkien's looking down on his creation, he'd be as ashamed as God was when he flooded the earth for a fresh start.

Dobby and the HP franchise are cursed because... well do I really need to get into that? I mean I guess I can but I've already typed quite a bit and this dead horse has been beaten, resurrected, and then beaten back to death repeatedly by the internet now. So uh, suffice to say, I view the Harry Potter series as an old cousin that got addicted to some serious drugs, ruined their life, got excommunicated from the family, and now no one talks to them because they've been sharing a lot of problematic shot on Facebook.

That's a lot of writing I just did for this dumbass shitpost, but it's actually a somewhat interesting match-up when you think about it. I mean neither of them are exactly fighters, but Gollum is a ruthless murderer and cannibal, and Dobby is uh, magic I guess? It's been a while since I was into HP in any capacity so I'm not fully aware of the scope of his abilities. Maybe he can do some cool shit, idk.

But in terms of physical strength, I do remember Golly being stronger than he looks in the movies, so Dobby wouldn't stand a chance in a knock-down drag-out brawl. He'd definitely have to get clever.

[pttwice]

I recently watched the famous MoTzu dog vlive and i got a little MoTzu idea regarding the doggo's, basically MoTzu are hanging out at SMC apartment with there dogs butter kaya boo and Dobby and end up regressing and wanting to run after the dogs and ride them ya know how kids are with dogs but DubChaeng tell them to stop because the dogs dont like it and they end up going to the dog park to release the littles energy but also to take the dogs out for there walk thank you and marry Christmas / happy holidays hope you have a good Christmas joon <3

hi hi chimpo! :) merry christmas & happy holidays to you as well!!

dog park

|| little!momo, little!tzuyu, cg!dahyun, cg!chaeyoung ||

Momo and Tzuyu were caring and loving dog owners, and that didn’t change when they regressed, but someone had to keep an eye on them. They tended to get a little more handsy with the pups and since they were so little, they didn’t always realize that their pups didn’t like being ridden or picked up all the time.

Momo and Tzuyu were at the SMC apartment, playing quietly with the pups when Momo got up and started chasing Boo and Dobby around the living room. Tzuyu giggled and followed suit, chasing Kaya and Butter around.

“Boo! Dobby!” Momo giggled and chased the two little pups around and around the couch, her hands stretched out to try and catch them.

Tzuyu was close behind Kaya and Butter but not quite there yet. “Wan’ play! Wan’ play!”

When Dahyun and Chaeyoung heard the patter of footsteps and claws going back and forth across the hardwood floor, they looked out from the kitchen into the living room.

Chaeyoung gasped and ran over to Momo. She gently pulled the little away from Dobby who she was trying to ride like a horse. “We can’t ride the doggies, Mo.”

Momo looked up at Chaeyoung and pouted as she pointed at Tzuyu who was tugging on Kaya’s tail to try and ride her as well.

“Hyun, I need some help in here!” Chaeyoung called for Dahyun who quickly jogged into the living room. She easily picked Tzuyu up and set her down on the couch, letting the poor pups have a few seconds to breathe.

“Wan’ play wif doggies!” Tzuyu whined on the couch and kicked her legs. She tried to wiggle out of Dahyun’s grasp, but the older girl was able to turn her attention away from the pups.

“Hey, Tzu. How about we all go to the park? That way you and Mo can run around and play with the doggies without hurting them?”

Tzuyu’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. She stopped trying to reach for Kaya and Butter and excitedly nodded. She loved going to the park and she loved playing with her doggies.

//

It was cold out so the four were bundled up as they walked to the park. Dahyun and Chaeyoung made sure to wrap Momo in an extra scarf since she gets cold easily.

As they sat down on the bench in the enclosed area for the dogs, they unclipped the pups’ leashes and let them roam around and sniff.

Momo and Tzuyu waddled around with all their layers on and happily chased the pups around. With more space to run around, the pups were able to evade most of the littles’ attacks.

Dahyun and Chaeyoung monitored their playing, taking pictures and videos to send to the other girls.

Once Momo finally got hold of Dobby, Chaeyoung quickly got up and took the little’s hand away from Dobby’s tail. “Don’t pull on Dobby’s tail, little peach. He doesn’t like that. How about you let him chase you around instead?”

Momo thought for a few seconds before nodding. She took off and happily screamed while the pups chased her around. Tzuyu joined in and soon the small area was filled with screams and giggles.

By the time Momo and Tzuyu finally got their energy out, it was almost time for their nap. The four slowly made their way back to the SMC apartment.

Dahyun and Chaeyoung laid the littles down on the couch and the pups hopped up beside them. Kaya curled up beside Tzuyu and Butter laid on her chest. Boo ended up at Momo’s feet and Dobby rested by her head.

The two caregivers knew that the littles wouldn’t be asleep for too long, so they enjoyed the peace and quiet while they could.

“Maybe we should take them to the park more often.” Dahyun chuckled and reached down to run her fingers through Boo’s fur.

Chaeyoung nodded in agreement and took a picture of the sleepy littles cuddled up with their pups. “I think we’d get a few more quiet minutes just like this.”

[blackbellybella]

Tiktok has shown me there’s a stark difference between a woman’s “eh😛 let’s be complete weirdos in public” night vs men’s

Men: “yea bro let’s wear onesies out in public” or “let’s all shave our heads and then go to the bar” “oh let’s wear these raunchy matching graphic tee?? We’re so crazy bro”

Women (and gays and theys) on the other hand: full shrek cosplay group outing, Steve Harvey night at the bar, pit bull night at the bar. “Let’s just go out in brightly color zenti suits”. Let’s just dress up as the elderly with canes and walkers and go out to the bars or a party. Let’s go out in full dad cosplay fake mustache shitty bald caps and all. And it just be a random ass Thursday

Like you see the difference in shenanigans men I need y’all to step it up.

I literally saw women have bald cosplay night at an Olive Garden. The cosplays in attendance: pit bull, Steve Harvey, Dobby the house elf, and mr fucking clean

A few scrolls later I see men just go into what-a-burger wearing a bucc-ees onesies like it’s texas I expect that… now all show up on horses and wearing fake mustache. It’s not wild but at least you’ve elevated the silly just a bit.

[ashesandhackles]

A Thousand Eyes

Written for @harrypocter event "Winter Sun" Prompt: Parvati Patil Summary: The Patil twins at The Malfoy Manor. Set in April of PS timeline, canon compliant. Trigger warning: Description of racist imagery

It sat on top of the yew hedges rising on either side of them. Shimmering white plumage under the overcast sky. The peacock’s tail tapered down; the thousand eyes of the feathers sat closed.

Parvati tugged at her sister’s robes, letting their parents go ahead on the straight lane to Malfoy Manor. 

Parvati breathed, “Have you ever seen a white one?”

“Quite unusual,” Padma muttered. “Not like the ones we had seen in Delhi.”

The ones they had seen in the ruined sandstone forts of Delhi were joyful, iridescent blue, fanning out their shining emerald tail feathers in celebration of a downpour after a sticky summer. She remembered quite clearly, the smell of the rain, the cry of the dancing peacock and the glow of the thousand eyes of its tail feathers - violet around amber, glowing in the greyscape.

“Hello,” Parvati reached out with her arm, even though the hedges were quite high. The peacock watched them with its blue eyes.

“It’s not an albino,” Padma commented, as the peacock shuffled away. “Maybe it has been bred this way?”

“Parvati, Padma!” their mother called from ahead. “Stop dawdling, we’re getting late!”

“Mum! Look at the white peacock over here!” Parvati called. 

“We can come back and look at it - it’s not going anywhere,” their father said.

Padma dragged Parvati away, towards the manor where diamond-paned windows glittered. -------

It was Padma’s idea. She had wanted to see the art collection Mr. Malfoy boasted of. As they had nothing better to do except sit on a couch and tell people how to tell them apart (“Padma wears blue, I wear pink”) or listen to Draco brag about his prowess on a broom to Pansy and how unfair it is that Harry Potter gets to be on the team, Parvati followed. Mrs. Malfoy sent Dobby with them (“As a guide,” she said sweetly.)

Dobby eyed Mr. Malfoy warily, but he seemed to be deep in conversation with their father. “Let’s go?” Parvati asked. Dobby nodded as he led them away.

The room set aside for art collection, like everything in the manor, gleamed with opulence. A magnificent carpet covered the stone floor, cloths of silk hung over sculptures in the middle of the room, an ornate cylindrical vase at the corner had a collection of peacock feathers and every inch of the wall was covered in paintings that followed their every move.

“Master Armand Malfoy,” Dobby indicated towards the painting of a wily man looking at Parvati’s gold bangles with interest. “Master Armand brought my Master’s ancestors to this land. The family has lived here for over ten centuries.”

Padma nodded as Parvati adjusted her bangles. Dobby took them through many paintings - some of ancestors, some of the countryside, some of dogs of different breeds, some of different kinds of game found on the land and they finally came up on paintings where the subjects didn’t move. “These are the paintings acquired when Lucius Malfoy the First had been courted by Muggle royalty,” Dobby recited.

“Royalty?” Parvati asked curiously. 

“This was a time before the Statue of Secrecy, Miss,” Dobby said. “Master would not like you to think he flouts laws.”

Parvati moved closer. It was curious these paintings didn’t move - a richly detailed painting of men in horses ascending the highlands, men with spears and arrows and a chariot blessed by the rays of sun. She saw more: ships landing on shores - Black men and women offering baskets of fruits at the dock. Images of brown skinned women dancing in congregation of men, tantalisingly veiled but breasts exposed. An image of a ship deck, a brown woman clutching at the feet of men, looking up in simpering gratitude. A Black man waiting by the river with horses and a collared dog, his arm full of discarded clothes.

“Dobby,” Parvati asked as her sister was silent too long. “What are these paintings about?”

“Slaves,” Dobby said. “Like Dobby.”

Something empty burrowed its way into Parvati’s chest. She glanced at her sister, whose eyes were bright with an emotion she could not name. “Let’s go back to the party,” Padma finally said.

Parvati nodded, and the three of them trudged back to the drawing room. They entered to find Mrs. Parkinson waiting for them, dragging Pansy by the upper arm. 

“I was looking for you both!” she whispered, ushering them in and almost knocking Dobby out of the way as though she couldn’t see him. “She was acting like a boy! Getting too friendly with the Malfoy boy. It won’t look good on us if she doesn’t act proper!”

Pansy scowled at her mother but didn’t dare say anything. Dobby scuttled away out of sight.

“We’ll be around, Mrs. Parkinson,” Parvati said dully.

“Thank you,” she brushed her fingers through Parvati’s hair fondly while Padma shrunk to escape her gaze. “You know, these robes do look good on you. You will grow up to be a beautiful young woman one day.”

Pansy’s eyes flashed with hurt. Parvati struggled to smile.  Her gaze flitted away to windows, where she could see the rain start to pour. She wondered if in this chilly repressive rain, if the white peacock was dancing.  Read on AO3 here.

[strewbi]

i’m gonna fight everyone. For the love of Christ read more books. Just find your local library and pick one at random I swear to fucking fuck. I just saw someone on TikTok hold up

Dobby thee House Elf

as an example of the Magical Negro trope

ANY BOOK. THE JOY OF COOKING! HOP ON POP! MEN AND HORSES! START SOMEWHERE AND KEEP AT IT.

[papillon82fluttersby]

Famous Five Art Nostalgia #05 – Part 1

Introductory post

Masterpost

🎪🐵👑 Five Go Off in a Caravan – Le Club des Cinq et les saltimbanques / Le Club de Cinq et le cirque de l’Etoile

Original publication date: 1946 (UK), 1965 (France)

(Original cover art by Jeanne Hives, 1965)

The French translations of the Famous Five books have been edited, they evolved, and they have even been remade along the years – for better or for worse. This book in particular suffered from a lot of excisions in more recent editions, softening the cultural aspects related to the circus folks, as well as Tiger Dan’s violence towards his nephew – but also losing small character moments along the way. A major change, obviously, was removing the word ‘saltimbanques’ from the title (which has come to hold some xenophobic connotations in modern days) and changing it to a more neutral ‘cirque de l’Etoile.’ Here’s a link to a detailed article about the changes made in the latest translation if you’re curious.

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Plot summary (adapted from Wikipedia):

The Famous Five are holidaying at the family house of Julian, Dick and Anne [set in Grenoble in the French version]. They befriend an orphaned circus boy, Nobby [renamed ‘Ned’ in later editions, and ‘Pancho’ in French], who is in a procession of horse-drawn circus caravans. This inspires George to suggest a caravanning holiday. Julian's parents assent and hire two caravans for the children.

(Dick is delighted to see the two horses that will pull the children’s caravans getting acquainted – the white one is Dobby [Nestor] and belongs to the Kirrins; the black one is Trotter [Annibal] and has been lent by a neighbour)

The Five travel to Merran Lake [le lac Vert, or 'the Green Lake'], where they are reacquainted with Nobby and meet various animals. The Five camp on a hillside, much to the annoyance of Nobby's guardian, Tiger Dan [simply known as ‘Carlos’ in French], and an acrobat named Lou [Lou], who want them to leave.

(While visiting the circus, Timmy takes a dislike to Lou the acrobat, a very unsavoury character)

The Five and Nobby agree to a signalling system whereby Nobby can let the Five know when the coast is clear (i.e. when Tiger Dan and Lou are away) and that they can come down to the circus or to a nearby lake where they all have fun together.

(A lovely hike from the children’s camping place down to the lake)

Tiger Dan and Lou keep prowling around the children’s caravans, much to their annoyance. Suspecting foul play, they have their own look-around but find nothing. Ultimately they devise a plan in which the Five make it seem like they’re all going shopping to a nearby village, whereas Julian doubles back covertly to see what Tiger Dan and Lou are plotting. Julian discovers that one of the caravans is directly above the entrance to an underground passage, from which Tiger Dan and Lou emerge with two sacks of presumably stolen valuables.

On the next day, Julian, Anne, George and Timmy go to the next town to buy torches in order to explore the tunnels, while Dick, Nobby and the latter’s pet chimpanzee Pongo [Bimbo] are left behind to guard the caravans. Unfortunately, Tiger Dan and Lou come back, determined to bully their way in, but the boys and Pongo (mostly Pongo) manage to fend them off.

(Nobby hugs Pongo, who just saved him from his abusive uncle)

The children explore the tunnel and follow it to a cache of stolen items and jewelry.

(A surprising discovery underground! ‘Princess’ Anne preens in front of an admirative Nobby)

But on their way back, they find that the entrance has been closed up with planks! They try to find another way out, following an underground stream, with no luck. At night, the villains come back to pick up their loot. Dick manages to sneak out and goes to a nearby farm to call the police.

(The villains are locked up underground!]

After the villains are arrested, Nobby leaves the circus to live with a local farming couple and look after their horses, which was his dream job.

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Cover art through the ages:

(Disclaimer: This is not an exhaustive list; sometimes the dates are difficult to pinpoint; and I have purposefully not included editions that re-used similar cover art, with differences only in layout and font style.)

(Original cover art by Jeanne Hives, Hachette, 1965 – these caravans look like they’re going fast! Zoom-zoom!!)

(Investigating at the circus with Jean Sidobre, Hachette, 1976)

(Fun at the circus with Umberto Nonna, Edito Service, 1982)

(The Five kind of look like they’re fleeing from a stampede in this one! Yves Beaujard, Hachette, 1988)

(More fun at the circus with Paul Gillon, Hachette, 1995)

(A ‘behind-the-scene’ look at the circus folk. Everyone is looking so dour – I honestly love the contrast between the stony expression and the heavy clown make-up! Munch and Prunier, Hachette, 1999)

(A serious discussion at the circus, featuring Nobby and Pongo – Frédéric Rébéna, Hachette, 2010)

(Mysterious dealings at the circus – Auren, Hachette, 2019)

Thank you for reading and see you next time!

[lemonhemlock]

we have reactions to posts now?? what do they mean??? is horse good? do socks mean dobby is free?

[candy-floss-crazy]

Many of the rides still travelling on funfairs have been around for decades, in some cases over 100 years. Others are relatively new designs, but have still achieved iconic status. One such ride is the carousel, the first of the rides we are going to take an in depth look at. Early History Much of Europe and the Middle East have a long history of jousting. Knights would gallop in circles whilst tossing balls to each other, a demonstration of their skill and horsemanship. The actual word carousel takes its origins from the Italian Carosella meaning little battle, which was an exercise used by Arabian and Turkish horsemen to prepare for actual battle. essentially a training mechanism to prepare and strengthen the riders sword play. Eventually as medieval jousting gave way to the cavelry era, this was replaced with demonstrations and spectacles that had the rides spearing suspended rings. Eventually even the commoners began to play the game, and rudimentary carousels began to be set up at fairgrounds across Europe. An early make believe carousel with wooden horses was set up in Paris, at the Place Du Carousel for children. The Modern Carousel The forerunner to the modern carousel, was what in the UK is termed a dobbie set. Much like a carousel, but with one important feature lacking. The horses didn't have an up and down motion. They were either suspended on poles, or fastened to the platform, and though they would rotate in the same manner, they lacked the galloping. They also tended to be much smaller that the rides we are used. Dobbie Ride Then Came Steam The first of the two breakthroughs that led to the ride we all know and love today came around 1861. Invented by a gentleman called Thomas Bradshaw, who built a ride that was powered by a steam engine. This allowed a much bigger structure, with crucially more riders. One newspaper of the time remarking that it moved with such impetuosity that the wonder was the riders not being shot off like cannonballs. Then Came Frederick Savage The final piece of the puzzle came from an English engineer. Frederick Savage was a builder of agricultural machinery. Who, for reasons unknown decided to branch out into the design and production of funfair rides. By the 70's (the 1870's that is), he was exporting funfair attractions all over the world. He experimented with various designs, and at one point came up with the 'Sea-On-Land' a nautical themed attraction, that used an offset crank system to pitch and roll the boats on the roundabout. When he took this new idea and married it to a steam powered carousel to give the horses the motion they lacked, he created what he called the platform gallopers. Steam powered organs were often installed into the centre of the ride to give it the classic carousel design, that isn't that much changed today. Our American Cousins Across the pond, it was immigrants that developed the Carousel. Including Charles W.F. Dare from England and Gustav Dentzel of Germany. A number of differnent manufacturers appeared, all with differing styles, Looff had reaslitcally painted saddles, whilst the Coney Island style had elaborate jeweled saddles from the likes of Dentzel, Herschell's and Spillman's often having no saddles at all. Their machines tended to be large and elaborate, highly decorated affairs. One curiosity is the direction of travel. In the U.K., a carousel, in common with most rotating rides moves in a clock wise motion. Whereas in the States and Europe it goes the opposite way. White Victorian Carousel Horse Victorian Carousel Hire Read the full article