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hollowed-theory-hall · 7 months ago

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Hi! First, I want to say I love your theories! Each one is so compelling to read♡♡♡

Second, I was thinking about holidays breaks at Hogwarts and it lead to "wait, is there some sort of magic 'religion' or have I read too many fics?"

Like, they celebrate Halloween and Weasleys celebrate Christmas, but isn't it a contradiction? I know Halloween has celtic roots, but as it is today, it's "All Hallows' Eve", a christian celebration like Christmas. And both the Catholic and the Protestant Church weren't the ones involved in witches' trials? Shouldn't they avoid each other like plague as a general rule?

Maybe they have some pagan rituals and festivals, like the eight sabbat, and they call it Halloween at Hogwarts instead of Samhain due to muggle influence over time?

I don't know, it's just a thought, but it'd be interesting to see your opinion on it

Thank you so much! 💓

Honestly, I was thinking about this a lot, like, wizards and religion, particularly Christianity. And in the books pure-blood wizards like Ron, Neville and Hagrid use the word "hell" as a swear:

“Oh, she was perfect, obviously,” said Ron, before Hermione could answer. “Perfect deliberation, divination, and desperation or whatever the hell it is — we all went for a quick drink in the

(Ron in HBP)

“I’ll join you when hell freezes over,” said Neville

(Neville in DH)

So their language has borrowed terminology from muggle Christianity. They also celebrate Christmas and Halloween at Hogwarts, as you mentioned, in addition to celebrating Easter as they have an Ester break at Hogwarts. So it appears wizards in the UK are Christian.

If we look at the Dumbledore's funeral:

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore’s body. Harry could not hear what he was saying. Odd words floated back to them over the hundreds of heads. “Nobility of spirit” . . . “intellectual contribution” . . . “greatness of heart” . . . It did not mean very much. It had little to do with Dumbledore as Harry had known him.

(HBP, 643-644)

The little man in black had stopped speaking at last and resumed his seat. Harry waited for somebody else to get to their feet; he expected speeches, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved. Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around Dumbledore’s body and the table upon which it lay: Higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiraled into the air and made strange shapes: Harry thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that he saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore’s body and the table on which he had rested. There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared through the air, but they fell far short of the crowd. It was, Harry knew, the centaurs’ tribute

(HBP, 645-646)

We see a wizard who acts as a priest, and we see speeches for the deceased are allowed along with other tributes. We also know most wizards (like James and Lily) are buried in regular muggle Christian graveyards. They are buried in tombs or coffins like Christians. This all leads to wizarding funerals in Britain being like any muggle funeral in Britain with a bit of a magical flare on occasion.

The fire engulfing Dumbledore's tomb is a surprise to the audience because it's Fawkes doing it and not a wizard customer. The same goes for the Centaurs' arrows (the Centaurs seem to have a different religion).

Then, we also see a wizarding wedding with Bill and Fleur, which looks like any Christian wedding:

A great collective sigh issued from the assembled witches and wizards as Monsieur Delacour and Fleur came walking up the aisle, Fleur gliding, Monsieur Delacour bouncing and beaming. Fleur was wearing a very simple white dresses and seemed to be emitting a strong, silvery glow ... “Ladies and gentlemen,” said a slightly singsong voice, and with a slight shock, Harry saw the same small, tufty-haired wizard who had presided at Dumbledore’s funeral, now standing in front of bill and Fleur. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls . . . ” ... “Do you, William Arthur, take Fleur Isabelle. . . . ?”

(DH, 127-128)

Bill has a best man, Fluer goes down the aisle with her father, wearing a white dress and she has two bridesmaids. The wedding is officiated by the same wizard priest from Dumbledore's funeral. And they have the regular "I dos".

Sure there is some magical spectacle afterward, but it's after the ceremony and just that — a spectacle and not part of the proceedings of the wedding.

So, overall it seems like wizards in the UK have a variety of Christianity (most likely most are Protestants (Anglican) due to the whole history of Christianity reform in Britain but I'm not going into that). And it makes sense too, because they lived very close to the muggles (same villages and much more intermarriages) up until 1692 when the Statue of Secrecy was officially established. Even the Malfoy family had close business ties with muggles:

Historically, the Malfoys drew a sharp distinction between poor Muggles and those with wealth and authority. Until the imposition of the Statute of Secrecy in 1692, the Malfoy family was active within high-born Muggle circles, and it is said that their fervent opposition to the imposition of the Statute was due, in part, to the fact that they would have to withdraw from this enjoyable sphere of social life. Though hotly denied by subsequent generations, there is ample evidence to suggest that the first Lucius Malfoy was an unsuccessful aspirant to the hand of Elizabeth I, and some wizarding historians allege that the Queen’s subsequent opposition to marriage was due to a jinx placed upon her by the thwarted Malfoy.

(From Pottermore)

By 1692, Christianity was the main religion in the UK. It stands to reason it'll be the most common religion among the British wizards because of how closely they interacted with the muggles back then; from business to marriage even among supposedly pure-blood families like the Malfoys.

As such, I assume wizarding religion varies just like muggle religion, where different magical cultures would have different religions depending on where they are in the world and the common muggle religion in the area. It doesn't really seem there is a proper "magical religion". I think there were just a lot of influences going back and forth. As you mentioned, Halloween has Celtic roots and probably had some magical roots in the HP universe. The word "hell" originates in Norse and Norse mythology but traveled into English and Christianity. Catholicism especially is very influenced by Roman Paganism, etc. Religions are influenced by each other and no one exists in a vacuum, so it makes sense wizards would just practice the common religion where they are with perhaps some magical embellishments (as we see in the wedding). Similarly, the muggle religions were probably influenced by magic and some muggle religious rituals and ceremonies probably have their roots in magic and wizardry that the muggle world has forgotten about.

As for the witch trials in Europe, in the real world, the church didn't function or involve itself in witch trials until the 15th century. During the Medieval Era, the church defined believing in witchcraft as heresy since you believe in magic that doesn't come from god. Attacks on supposed witches went actively against church doctrine at the time.

During the 14th century, witch trials became more common in France, England, and Germany, but still not a full-on frenzy. The trials then weren't exactly witch trials either as the accusations were of diabolism, heresy, and nocturnal orgies, not exactly witchcraft. Witchcraft accusations grew more common towards the end of the century and in the 15th century, we actually start seeing more of the typical witch trials whose popularity grew with the publication of Malleus Maleficarum in 1486. This book redefined how to recognize a witch and fueled the already growing unrest. This led to more witch accusations as paranoia regarding witchcraft grew.

Only afterward do we see the church outright getting involved in witchcraft and the association of witchcraft and devil worship. This led to the peak of witch trials in Europe between 1560–1630. Even during these trials, many figures in the church (both Catholics and protestants) have cast doubts over the trials and their legality and outright oppose them. The frenzy of the witch trials in the 15th century also lines nicely with the Statue of Secrecy that was drafted a few decades later when the trials were winding down.

The point of all this is that the witch trials weren't led by the church in many places and for most of the trials' history it was considered heresy to even believe in witches by the church. So, I don't think the wizarding world would have an issue with Christianity over the witch trials, but an issue with muggles, which is actually what we see in the books. Also, whole communities don't tend to change their religion overnight, if they were Christian before the witch trials, they'd likely stay Christian after them.

I think a magical religion can be fun to explore in fic, but in the books, they are clearly Christian with a magical coat of paint (at least in Britain).

(There are probably a few British wizards who aren't Christian, just like in Muggle Britain. I personally headcanon Anthony Goldstein is Jewish since his last name is very Jewish)

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #harry potter meta #wizarding world of harry potter #wizarding world #wizarding society #wizarding world historical contxt #asks #anon asks #anonymous #hollowedtheory #hollowedheadcanon

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alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody · 3 months ago

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kinktober #2

Latex Love 🖤 / Masquerade Ball 💃

For a culture that eschews Mundane holidays as strongly as it does, the Nephilim world goes buck fucking wild for any reason to celebrate. Alec has counted sixteen ice sculptures in this room alone, all made of Seelie ice so they’ll barely melt over the course of the evening, and that’s not even counting the carved ice runes keeping the raw bar cold.

The occasion? It’s Consul Penhallow’s fiftieth birthday. Or it’s her fifth service anniversary? Alec’s not really sure. Izzy whispered it to him behind her hand after two glasses of champagne and he’s pretty sure she didn’t know either.

He shouldn’t even be here. He has acres of paperwork piling up and a brewing civil suit between two rival warlocks that’s going to give everyone in a ten-block radius an ulcer if he doesn’t defuse it in the next few days. The last thing he needs is to be holding another glass of champagne in the ballroom of one of Lorenzo Rey’s insane properties, wearing a mask that obscures most of his face and half of his vision.

Not to mention the inherent food safety risks of the raw bar. Eurgh.

He peels away from Jace, who’s diligently trying to figure out who literally everyone in the room is, with Clary hanging over his shoulder offering hints, and goes to inspect the rest of the appetizer offerings. He squints through his mask at the overembellished script on the little toothpick flags at the front of each platter. If Izzy weren’t already two drinks deep and totally bought into the quote unquote romance of a masked ball, he would have ripped the thing off half an hour ago, but he’s got a sneaking suspicion she’s got some kind of tracker on him to make sure he complies with the theme.

“What a spread,” comes a velvety voice from behind him, and Alec whirls, almost sweeping a platter of salmon tartlets to the floor.

“Uh — what?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” says the stranger, not sounding it. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just admiring the opulence. Clearly the Clave spared no expense to celebrate Consul Penhallow. If only they’d devote the same resources to infrastructure.”

Alec, caught off guard, huffs out a laugh. “I know, right? We could actually convert to green energy instead of just saying we will every few years.”

He can’t make out the stranger’s eyes behind his elaborate mask, which is disconcerting. With his luck he’s probably talking to someone responsible for the green energy initiative.

But the stranger laughs. Alec could swear his voice sounds familiar, but it’s so loud in here and everything echoes off the flagstone, so maybe he’s wrong. He doesn’t look like anyone Alec knows, from what he can see of him. He’s wearing a suit made from deep, rich purple material with a gold floral design that looks like it would have a texture if Alec reached out and touched it. His hair is dark and falls in a glossy swoop over the right eye of his intricate gold mask; the left side of his mask is adorned with peacock feathers so Alec can’t see either of his eyebrows. He’s a bit shorter than Alec, and he’s a lot rounder. Like, a lot rounder.

“But still,” the stranger is saying. “I can’t complain. I’m here, aren’t I? I never could resist a party.”

Alec tries not to stare, because he can’t actually think of anyone in the Clave — anyone in the Nephilim world, really — who’s fat. Is that weird? That’s probably weird, right?

But this guy — maybe it’s his size, maybe it’s his whole purple getup and the peacock feathers, but he looks like the word he uttered a moment ago: opulence. Hoping he can’t see too much through his mask either, Alec subtly checks him out: a round face beneath the edge of his mask, pretty lips, soft double chin. Thick arms, plump hips, a rotund belly that sets his stance wide. His suit fits him well, and he carries his weight like he’s not interested in making himself smaller. Alec’s throat is suddenly as dry as his love life.

“Like what you see?” asks the stranger, his voice tipping up coyly. He turns in an exaggerated circle for Alec to drink in, finishing with a graceful little bow that makes his stomach pour forward.

“I, uh, just — I really don’t know who you are,” Alec stammers. “But I guess we’re not supposed to tell, right? It ruins the mystique or something?”

“I’ll ruin your mystique,” the stranger purrs, and Alec must look verklempt because he adds hastily, “Care to accompany me through the hors d’oeuvres? I’m famished.”

He holds out a hand like the Southern belles in that Mundane movie phase Izzy went through back when she was thirteen. He’s even wearing lace gloves, for god’s sake.

Alec is zero percent sure about taking some random guy’s hand in a crowd of his coworkers, friends, and loved ones, but then he remembers that probably no one can tell who he is, either, and so why the fuck not.

He takes his hand. The guy’s hand is warm and soft beneath the lace, nails glinting darkly, and his grip is firm in a way that makes Alec feel secure. They’re just two guys being dudes, cruising the appetizer table in a very casual way.

“Not feeling the raw bar?” Alec jokes nervously, and the guy purses his lips. Can the guy feel his hand sweating? “No? Not an oyster guy?”

The stranger scoffs. “Once you’ve had them prepared the selkie way off the coast of the Hebrides, nothing else quite measures up. And besides, I haven’t lived for centuries just to go belly-up from some improperly chilled oysters. Seelie ice hardly maintains the temperature that premium seafood requires.”

Alec momentarily gets derailed by belly-up and can’t help dropping his gaze down to where the stranger’s stomach rounds out just inches from his own. It’s oddly tantalizing, and he swallows once, twice, before trying to latch onto some more relevant information. Centuries — so he must be a Downworlder.

“Centuries?” Alec echoes. “Which was your favorite?”

It feels for a second like it might be a stupid question, but the stranger replies without missing a beat. “I’ve a taste for the Baroque period, if you couldn’t tell.” He gestures to his outfit with a flourish. “I sat for Rubens back in the day, if you get my drift. I actually had this mask specially crafted for a ball in Antwerp back in, oh, it must have been 1611, maybe 1612.”

Alec doesn’t know what half of those words mean, but from the guy’s tone, he thinks he might be flirting. “I don’t know who that is,” he admits, taking a plate for himself and handing one to the guy. “The Shadowhunter education isn’t big on art history.”

“Really,” says the guy, and he sounds genuinely interested. “But — all the angels!”

“Yeah, I mean, half of those aren’t actual angels. They don’t really look like that. Or, I guess, maybe they would to a Mundane, but they’d get blinded by divine light way before they could tell what an angel looked like anyway.” He takes a Gruyère puff for himself and then, on what feels like a daring whim, puts one on his stranger’s plate as well. The stranger’s pretty lips curl into a smile. There’s glitter on them, or something? Izzy would know what it’s called, and she would never stop making fun of Alec if he asked.

“You know, that’s oddly reassuring,” muses the guy, popping the Gruyère puff into his mouth and reaching for another. “I’ve always wondered if those horrible little ill-proportioned cherubs are what you Nephilim see in times of crisis.”

Alec bursts out laughing despite himself. “I don’t think the Clave could take itself half as seriously if they were.” The stranger smiles too, warm and soft, and Alec backtracks: “Hey, wait, you still have to tell me about sitting for Ruben or whoever.”

The guy hesitates, and for a horrible second Alec is sure that he’s blown it. But then the guy leans in and says, his voice low and rich, “Proposition: Let’s fill some plates and find somewhere a bit quieter.”

It sends a chill through Alec in the good, sexy way. He nods his agreement, and the guy gives one quick, pleased nod, as if to say, It’s decided. “There’s a courtyard around here somewhere, if I’m not mistaken.”

Alec smirks. “Oh, so you’ve been to Lorenzo’s parties before?”

“Have I.” He grimaces. “A necessary evil in my line of work, I’m afraid. One must keep things diplomatic, no matter how tacky one finds them.”

Alec snorts. Part of him wants to say fuck the food, let’s go hide in the courtyard, but all he can see is this guy’s perfect mouth and he kind of wants to see more of it. And if there’s something mesmerizing about watching him carefully choose and then eat appetizers, well, then, Alec is simply not going to dwell on that right now.

He throws some stuff on a plate and tails his stranger through the room, breathless despite the fact that his legs are longer and he doesn’t need to work to keep up. Alec’s spent a lot of time quietly lusting over all the stupidly hot things guys do when they don’t know someone’s watching, but watching slim, muscular guys amble around the training room and strut around in leather is very different from watching this guy. His big belly pulls him forward, and the slight sway of his gait makes it clear that his thighs rub together despite his fancy suit. His ass is tremendous from behind, not just in size but in — Alec doesn’t know what word to apply to it. It’s majestic. He thinks about running his hands over it, skimming over the rolls of his wide hips and up to the ample plush of his belly, and he almost drops his plate.

“Oh — here,” says his stranger, hanging a quick left and directing Alec out a hidden door to what appears to be a small, private jungle. “It’s quite lovely, I’ll give him that. Even if it’s a bit — gauche.”

The air outside is cool and a little wet, not humid but almost dewy in a hopeful, vernal way. His stranger sets his plate down at a little wrought iron table in the corner by a small waterfall set into the lush greenery and rockwork. His stranger eases into an iron chair beset by frilly curlicues, and it is not lost on Alec how much he overflows it. If the seat had arms, he certainly wouldn’t fit; as it is, he has to scoot the chair back from the table so it doesn’t dig into his belly.

“I wanted to be chivalrous and get you another drink,” sighs the guy, reclining a bit in the chair in a way that puts not just his gut but the bulk of his thighs and snug seams of his trousers, “but alas. Now that I’ve sat, I fear I won’t be getting back up for a while.” He palms his enormous belly, and Alec, eyes wide in sudden, abject enchantment, swears he can see him wink through his mask. “It’s a lot of effort to haul all of this around.”

“I’ll get drinks,” Alec barrels over him, and before the guy can even finish his sentence, he’s off and running, practically colliding with the first cocktail waiter he sees. He grabs two champagne flutes and gets halfway back to the buffet before realizing he has no earthly way of carrying two glasses and a plate. Suddenly it feels like the most important thing in the world to get this guy something nice to eat now that he went to all the work of taking Alec to his romantic secret courtyard. Either the alcohol is going to his head or he’s literally under a spell, and he’s pretty sure that the Clave’s suite of pre-event warding would prevent the latter.

His stranger has worked through quite a bit of his plate by the time Alec returns, panting, and sets the glasses down between them. The guy tips his head up to Alec, chin muddling softly into his soft neck, and smiles at him dreamily. “Thank you, darling. Sit, eat, and I’ll explain Rubens to you.”

Alec sits and eats and watches his guy eat too. Between bits of his anecdote, his guy has something to say about each hors d’oeuvre, remarking on the flavor balance or mouthfeel or seasonality, and Alec soaks it all in, rapt.

“And so Rubens,” he’s saying, “had a penchant for — fuller-figured girls, if you will, like yours truly.” He pauses, preens. “I was quite large even then; it’s a shame it’s been rather lost to time. If I remember correctly, I was Rubens’ only male nude. It’s truly a triumph; he painted me spilling out of a dressing gown, fresh from the bath, all rosy and damp —”

Alec chokes on a crumb of tartlet crust. His brain feels like that video Jace showed him of an entire fireworks display going off at once.

“And by ‘lost to time,’” concludes the guy cheekily, “I mean ‘spelled into oblivion in my apartment, lest the Met acquire one of my greatest honors.’”

“You’ll have to show me,” Alec grinds out. The guy’s lips curl into that smile again, and slowly, he reaches one plump, begloved hand across the table. Alec takes it. And maybe he is under a spell, because he can barely believe the words on his tongue even as he cues them up.

“Can I kiss you?”

His guy’s smile widens. “I thought you’d never ask.”

And well, Alec’s not going to make him get up for it, so he scoots his chair closer to his stranger and leans forward until he’s practically sprawled across the guy’s stomach. He cups his soft cheek in one hand, breathes in his sweet, spicy, incense-y smell —

— and their masks bash together.

“God damn it,” says Alec, and the guy laughs.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. You’ll see it in the Rubens eventually, I hope.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Alec, grinning back. His own mask is pretty plain — black with some silver scrollwork. Izzy picked it out under strict instruction to get him the least obnoxious one available. “On three?”

“On three,” his guy agrees, and they count together: one, two, three.

Alec pulls off his mask, already feeling a big dumb grin spreading across his face — until he looks across the table, and the grin falls away as his mouth drops open.

This guy’s eyes are familiar — golden, expertly made up. His pudgy cheeks belie his high cheekbones, and the coquettish, self-assured look on his face rings one too many bells. No. No no no no. He has not spent the last hour getting hot and bothered over Magnus Bane, serial flirt, general pain in Alec’s ass, and half of the warlock civil suit that’s currently driving him insane.

“Well,” says Magnus as Alec gapes, “I must say that wasn’t quite the response I was hoping for.”

“No!” says Alec, categorically unable to process this. “I know you! You’re — you’re —”

“Thin?” supplies Magnus. “Slender? Trim? The masculine ideal? A South Asian Adonis?”

“Yes!” says Alec helplessly. “Why are you even at Lorenzo’s if you’re in a fucking lawsuit against him? Wait, is this a disguise? Is that it? What the fuck, Magnus?”

Magnus, to his credit, looks only marginally fazed by all of Alec’s to-do. “No, darling,” he drawls, drawing a hand down the wide, lush expanse of his middle. “Not quite, at least. This isn’t the disguise. But the body you’re familiar with? That’s camouflage, Alexander. Look around. Do you see anyone at this party who looks like me? Do you think any of them would take me seriously in this body? For the ones charged with stewarding the supernatural world, Nephilim have a list of prejudices as long as both of your legs.”

Alec goes quiet.

“And yes,” Magnus goes on, “I am, at present, legally entangled with Lorenzo Rey. However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to miss out on the chance to sneer at his decor and enjoy his bonnes bouches and champagne. Et voilà: in this body, he’d never guess.” He gives a theatrical shrug and fixes Alec with a coy, catlike gaze. “What can I say, I’m a petty creature. Still want to kiss me?”

And the thing is that Alec does. Maybe he could stand to learn a thing or two from the Downworld about how shortsighted the Nephilim can be, and maybe he’d better also do some soul searching about whether he’s got some newfound preferences or if he’s been repressing these like he’s been repressing everything else.

“On one condition,” he says, and Magnus lifts a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Yes, darling?”

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, giving Magnus a hand up and going a little weak in the knees as Magnus rocks forward and levers himself up with a soft noise that Alec wishes he could play back again and again. “Let me at least buy you dinner first. It won’t be bone bush or whatever you said, but there’s a really good Italian place up near the Institute. Cloth napkins, everything. My treat. And the chairs don’t have arms, either. And, um.” He laces his fingers through Magnus’s, and Magnus steps closer, the heavy curve of his belly brushing the front of Alec’s suit.

“Yes?”

Alec’s finding it a little hard to breathe. “I don’t want you to think that — you’re still, uh, — I think you’re still —”

Magnus waits.

“I think you’re really hot like this,” Alec finishes. “Like, you look so good that you’re making it hard to talk. Or think. I don’t want you to think that I don’t think that about this body. I do. Like, I really, really do.”

Magnus cups Alec’s face in one hand, and he’s so close that Alec can feel the warmth radiating from him, the soft give of his body. “Alexander Lightwood, a romantic,” he purrs. “Who would have thought?”

“It’s my mystique,” says Alec, jamming his own mask back over his face and gesturing for Magnus to do the same. “Come on, before anyone realizes we’re gone.”

Magnus’s hand is snug around his as they spill out of the party. The sweet, soft air smells like hope.

#feedist kinktober #feedist kinktober 2024 #my writing #my fic #shadowhunters #malec #magnus x alec #chubby magnus

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gaybananabread · 1 year ago

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TickleTober Day 17 - Interrogation

@hexalianrebel-blackfeathers These ideas are making me so happy Panda I SWEAR! Love these two, they'd get up to so much fun mischief! I apologize for any Hobie-slang slander, I will not claim to fully understand how his speech patterns work (T.T) I tried, I hope you all Enjoy!

Lee: Pavitr

Ler: Hobie

Summary: Pavitr thinks it's a good idea to try and hide his candy stash from his friends, refusing to share. Hobie shows him just how persuasive he can be when it comes to the sweet treats.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

Halloween: the all-around favorite holiday of the spider heroes. One group of teens, specifically, makes it their goal to bring in as much candy as possible. And they never shared with each other. Well, never shared willingly.

Pavitr had pulled quite the haul that year. He had managed to convince Gayatri to go with him, dressing in matching couple costumes. One pair of puppy dog eyes later, the spider teen had at least five pounds worth of candy in each bucket.

Gayatri wasn't really into the sugary stuff, letting him have her bucket. Now, Pav didn't exactly need all that candy; he had plenty of energy and joy to begin with. He'd always had a sweet tooth, however, constantly trying sugary confections and stealing treats from his friends.

Everyone knew about the Indian spider's love for sweets. Everyone knew that he had plenty to spare. He just needed some…persuasion. And nobody knew how to persuade Pavitr better than Hobie.

That year's hiding spot was one of his best; in the hollow pot of a large fake fern in his apartment. He preferred living house plants, but due to his Spider-Man work, Pav just didn't have time to take care of one. For once, his busy life had provided him some luck. Who would think to look in a plant pot?

He had just pulled a few treats from his stash when the loud, whirring sound of a portal interrupted him. The sunny teen stuffed the candy into his pockets just as a figure entered his dimension. Recognition was immediate; the clinking pins, thumping boots and lanky frame were instant tells. Hobie had come for a visit. His timing was awful…

"Oi Pav, how'd the candy run go?" If you knew Pavitr, one thing would be very clear; he was an awful liar. The boy had obvious tells, and almost never sold the bullshit he was trying to feed people. He would bite his lip, almost always crossing his arms when he lied. Just as he was doing then. “Not very well. I did not get as much as I was hoping for, already ate most of it.”

Hobie immediately knew he was lying. The story wasn’t bad, but the delivery was weak as a wet noodle. “Uh-huh, sure. Ey, mind tellin’ the truth? I’m not buyin’ that line a’ bull.” Pav cringed, knowing he was busted. Dishonesty just wasn’t his forte…

Still, he had gotten so much candy that year. He loved Hobie to death, but the sweets were corrupting him. He tried another lie. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, bro. This…this is all I seem to have left.” Pav, still trying his best to sell the obvious fib, pulled the ten or so pieces of candy from his pockets. There were a few hard candies, some chocolates, and even a wrapped piece of kaju barfi from the kindly older woman a few blocks away.

Hobie saw through the clear lie, though his friend’s commitment to the bit was admirable. “That so, yeah? Fine then. You asked for this, bruv.”

Before his spider-sense could warn him, Hobie lunged at Pavitr, picking the teen up and tossing him onto the nearby couch. Pav yelled and smacked at the taller man’s shoulder, but couldn’t really do much. Hobie got the jump on him, and he was already a bit giddy from the obscurity of it all. “Hoho- Hobie! Wait!”

“Nah, don’t think I will.” Pav had already known what was coming; the punk only got that look on his face when he played a certain brand of silliness. In seconds, his arms were webbed above his head, ten bony fingers running up and down the length of his ribs. “NYAHahaha! Hohohobie, noho tihihickles!”

Bubbly giggles quickly lit up Pavitr’s apartment, bringing a bit of life into the homey environment. Ever the tease, Hobie snickered as he continued his tickly attack. “No shit, Pav. That’s the point.”

Surprisingly, the boy could say and hear the t-word without getting flustered. It was teasy compliments that did him in. “Aww, that’s a cute laugh ya got, Pavi.” Hobie sent a few pokes to his armpits, getting a squeal in response. “Gonna tell me where the stash is yet?”

Typically, he’d have his bangles and web shooters to help him out of the mess. But it was a slow day, and Pav took every chance he could get to wear his normal, comfy clothes. The soft, loose shirt did little to protect against Hobie’s evil fingers. “Ihihihi- HEHEY! NOHOT THE TUHUHUMYHY!” He felt his cheeks heat up from the cute tease, both loving and hating the compliment.

“Hmm. Guess not.” Pavitr’s stomach had always been a weak point. He thought he’d grow out of it; over the years, however, it felt like his tum only got more sensitive. The boy drummed his feet on the couch beneath Hobie, trying to distract himself from the ticklish shocks spreading across his belly.

Hobie honestly found it cute. Pav’s careless smile, giddy and happy laughter, slight blush on his tan cheeks; it was perfect. He loved to play around with all his friends, but the shorter spider was definitely a favorite for that sort of affection. Saying he was soft for his loved ones would be spot on. He had no shame admitting that, or abusing the fact that they all loved it.

And abuse it he did. Pavitr could feel himself both melting and going crazy at the tickling. He honestly liked it when Hobie, or any of his friends, played the silly game. There was just something so…freeing in being able to laugh his cares away with a loved one. Especially Hobie. “COHOHOME OHON! IHIHI- WHYHYHY?!” If only he wasn’t being a bit mean to get information.

“Why? I just want a few of my fam’s sweets, but you apparently ain’t sharing. So I’m having a bit a’ fun. Unless, ya know, you wanna tell me where your hidin’ spot is?” He clawed at Pav’s belly, smirking at the adorable reactions. He could practically hear the boy’s thoughts, and they said he was enjoying himself. Nothing wrong with that, but Hobie was looking for info, not the usual cuteness. “Unless…you don’t really want this to stop…”

Two big squeezes to his sides came with the tease, making him squeal. Hobie wasn’t wrong…but no way he was admitting that. The webs pinning his hands were sturdy, he knew they wouldn’t break no matter how hard he tugged. That didn’t stop him from trying, though. “SH-SHUHUHUSH!”

That was when Hobie decided to be evil. The anarchist slipped his hands under Pav’s shirt, his cold rings making the boy squeak on impact. One hand started to squeeze Pavitr’s side, the other spidering its nails across his belly button region. The bubbly boy practically shrieked, a scream and a squeal combining to make one adorably frantic sound.

“HOHOHOBAHART! NOHOHO! DOHOHON’T- IHIT TIHiCKLES!” Hobie gasped dramatically, not stopping the tickles for a second. “Did you just government-name me? Oho, that’s it, ya little shit."

It was time to be very, very mean. Hobie pulled up Pavitr's loose shirt, exposing his toned stomach. Perfect. The punk wiggled his brows before taking a deep breath, blowing the biggest raspberry he could manage on Pav's poor belly. At the same time, he squeezed along the boy's sides, driving him mad with the ticklish combination.

Pav could barely function, the intense tickling immediately finishing him. "NAHAHA! IHIHI- IHI CAHAHAN'T! HOHOBIE PLEHEHEASE!" He bucked and squirmed, to get the Brit's head away from his ticklish tum.

He wasn't quite done yet, though. The punk blew a few smaller raspberries, making sure to shake his head so his lip piercing did a bit of tickling as well. Pavitr was practically in hysterics, thrashing and writhing to try and escape the tickles.

Hobie eventually gave him a breather, sitting up and admiring his work. Pav greedily gulped in air, giggling like mad as he tried to catch his breath. Why did he do this again… oh, right. The candy: he had almost forgotten about the treat stash.

"Al'igh Pavi, ya got one more chance. Where's your stash, mate?" Pavitr got one more poke to the armpit, just because he could. The giggly boy groaned, leaning his head back and scrunching his eyes shut.

He relented, not having any more energy left to resist."F-fihihine! Ihit's- it's ihin Anvi's pohohot. Now noho mohohore!"

That got an eye-roll from the punk. Anvi was the name of Pav's fake fern. Hobie took a small pocket knife from his waistband, cutting the webs and climbing off his friend.

The plant pot looked normal, save for a throw pillow propped on the bottom. Moving the pillow aside, Hobie found a hole in the ceramic. There, right inside, were two big buckets of candy. "Damn, Pav. Cleaned 'em out, didn' ya?"

Taking one of the buckets, Hobie replaced the pillow and walked back over to the couch. At that point, Pavitr was sitting up, his breathing returning to normal. The blush on his cheeks was very visible, but other than that, he seemed to have calmed down.

Cute… Hobie set the bucket between them, grabbing the first chocolate off the top, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth. Pav followed suit, though he didn't pass up the chance to poke Hobie's side. The punk just chuckled, tossing an empty sweets wrapper at his head.

Totally worth it…

#atsv tickling #lee!pavitr #ler!hobie #ticklish!pavitr #augtickletober 2023 #tickle fic #sfw tickling community #tickle #across the spiderverse tickles #spiderverse tickles #augtickletober #augtickletober2023 #atsv hobie #atsv pavitr #ler!hobart

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incorrectcoldflashblog · 1 year ago

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Sooooo...is it too much to ask for your answers to all of the questions on the ask list about your country?? (I hope you will say no and tell me to select a handful, if that's what you prefer.)

Sorry, sorry, I totally meant to do this faster but that was a lot of questions, haha. Putting this under a read more because it got LONG.

1.) favourite place in your country?

Honestly there are a lot of beautiful places in France, but a personal favorite would be Biarritz, near the Spanish border. My whole extended family used to vacation there when I was a kid.

2.) do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad?

Given the choice I’d prefer to travel abroad.

3.) does your country have access to sea?

Yes, via the English channel, the Atlantic and the Mediterranean sea.

4.) favourite dish specific for your country?

La blanquette de veau, a dish that was originally from Normandy :)

5.) favourite song in your native language?

Nooo, don’t do this to me. I hate picking favorites. I’ll just share one that has some personal significance for me and not call it my favorite ;)

6.) most hated song in your native language?

I don’t know that I really hate that many songs, but on a personal level I definitely never wanna hear Jusqu’ici tout va bien by Gims again as long as I live. It’s the theme song to a show my roommate watches every evening (which means I have to hear it Every.Day.) and it irks me that the title is a reference to one of the best scenes from my favorite movie when the song itself is so annoying. But maybe I just feel that way because I have to hear it so, so often.

7.) three words from your native language that you like the most?

Clair-obscur (chiaroscuro), l’engrenage (an ineluctable series of events) and it’s technically two words but l’amitié amoureuse. The literal translation would be ’friendship in love’ but it’s not actually a romantic love, it just describes basically having an intense but platonic crush on your friend. It’s one of my favorite concepts in the French language.

8.) do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom?

No, we don’t, for better or for worse France is very uniquely French, lol.

9.) which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?

The one I know best is probably Switzerland, just because my great-uncle lived in Lausanne and we visited him a few times when he was still alive. Fun fact, he ran away to Switzerland after having an affair with a married woman because her husband threatened to kill him, lol.

The one I’d like to visit most is Italy, just because that’s where part of my family is from (from Parma) and I’ve never been.

10.) most enjoyable swear word in your native language?

Putain, which I use approximately 500 times a day XD

11.) favourite native writer/poet?

Listen, how am I meant to pick just one when there are so many??

Classic literature: Gustave Flaubert

Contemporary writer: Marie Ndiaye

Favorite poet: maybe Marguerite Yourcenar? Although my favorite poem might be L’Irréparable by Charles Baudelaire.

You didn’t ask but my favorite play is Le Cid by Corneille. Romeo and Juliet wishes XD

12.) what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem?

I think there’s just always something missing in translation tbh.

13.) does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?

I mean, I know outsiders often comment on the fact that French people kiss each other on the cheek to say hello (se faire la bise) but I don’t know if that counts as a strange tradition.

14.) do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV?

Ehh, to me French cinema/TV is divided in two categories, really fucking good and really fucking awful, haha, there’s pretty much no in-between. A bad movie is called a navet (a turnip) by the way^^

15.) a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get?

There’s a lot of jokes and memes that originated from the tv show Kaamelott that are going to be hard to decipher for people who haven’t seen it. Here’s one I think you’ll enjoy:

16.) which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

The one I agree with is that French people complain all the time because we really, really do, haha. I don’t agree with the stereotype that French people are lazy though, we just don’t live to work but why are we acting like it’s a bad thing?? I don’t know, there are a lot of negative stereotypes about French people but tbh at the end of the day I don’t really care that much.

17.) are you interested in your country’s history?

Sure, it’s definitely interesting, but there’s so much of it it can be a little intimidating.

18.) do you speak with a dialect of your native language?

Nope.

19.) do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem?

Our emblem is le coq (the rooster), which you only see on the French team’s shirts, just like you’re most likely to see the flag when there’s a World Cup. It’s fine I guess, I don’t really have an opinion on it.

Our national anthem is kind of problématique but it does go hard. I’ll give it that. Like, if you’ve ever watched that scene from Casablanca where they sing La Marseillaise you’ll understand what I mean by that.

20.) which sport is The Sport in your country?

Mbappé Soccer :)

21.) if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be?

I’ve been puzzling over this question for weeks, haha, and I’m still not sure what it means, like? Do you mean annoying people I’d launch into space or XD

22.) what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed?

I don’t have a lot of national pride tbh. I’m ashamed about a lot of the public discourse, the islamophobia, the state violence, the way Nicolas Sarkozy and the media brought far-right talking points into the mainstream and now we’re all swimming in their shit.

I’m proud to know that French people are always ready to burn shit down though.

23.) which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?

According to Google it’s beer. I would’ve probably said wine.

24.) what other nation is joked about most often in your country?

Probably Belgium. There’s lots of belgian jokes.

25.) would you like to come from another place, be born in another country?

I don’t really think about stuff like that. Every country has its own issues, so it is what it is.

26.) does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal?

Oh boy, does it ever. Every time a new season of Emily in Paris comes out you can bet French Twitter is gonna have a field day over this shit XD

27.) favourite national celebrity?

When you say national celebrity my first thought immediately goes to Jean-Jacques Goldman. Amazing songwriter, but also very well-known for his work with the Restos du Cœur, a French charity that was founded by his friend the comedian Coluche and les Restos famously do more for the poor than our own government ever would. Probably why Goldman gets elected personnalité préférée des Français every other year. (He also pays his taxes in France, unlike some people, and we always appreciate that here.)

28.) does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites?

It does. I think the most famous are the river Seine, the Mont-Blanc (although that crosses over into Italy) and as far as lakes go I’m sure there are a lot but I can’t think of a really well-known one.

29.) does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country?

My city does have beef with another city, but I won’t say which for privacy reasons ;)

30.) do you have people of different nationalities in your family?

My paternal grandmother was from Laos and my paternal grandfather’s family immigrated from Italy (not him directly, but his mother). I think there’s some German (well, Prussian) and Flemish on my mother’s side. My aunt’s husband is also from Italy, and my eldest brother’s wife is from Madagascar. I think that’s all :)

Thank you so much for asking, friend, I can only hope I didn’t totally bore you to death XD

“Hi, I’m not from the US” ask set

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meanhare · 4 months ago

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very specific distractions

because things like "read, draw, walk" are kinda not hepful for me personally (what to read? what to draw? where walk?). also if you have no friends you can do all these alone bc i also have no friends. warning: some of them are kinda edgy

learn about sodas over the world and make a list of 10 (or more) sodas you want to try the most

draw your fav character in decora, scene, patched crustpunk or any other clothes/style that are long and/or hard to draw

learn armenian, georgian, katakana or any other unfamiliar alphabet/writing system

find in library and read any book about antarctica

watch bela tarr's satantango

find hungarian bands that play your fav music genre

google and read about twonosed dog breeds

go outside and take pics of your fav 10 buildings in your city

take some money and buy more pants and/or socks (theres always not enough of them +you dont have to try on them and then cry in change room)

depict your ideal room in details

create an alien/fantastic animal/breed, draw it and describe its habital, height, weight, color, natural enemies, diseases it prone to, how common are mutations like albinism or polydactylia etc

write n details whole 5 pages of how you feel like. if you feel bad, write how awful is everything, how you want (or dont want)it to end, how shitty is your mood. if you feel nothing, write how you are not feeling, how empty and desolated it feels.

learn how to make an origami of your fav animal

burn some trash

create a secret blog. it may be for something you like, for writing honest opinions, for pretending that you are cishet christian gymbro, anything. take time to made out a good name and url and find a good pfp

learn few songs on other languages

try every tea you can find. sometimes theres boxes of assorted teabags with different tastes, its good for trying different kinds

do some jigsaw puzzles. theres many online jigsaw sites

(re)watch or read an interview of your fav obscure music band

find even obscurer music band

learn about some east asian holidays and plan to celebrate some of them

draw your recent dream in mspaint

switch language on you tumblr/phone/computer to one you dont know (but only if you familiar with your device enough and know how to change it back for if necessary)

find some longass 100question ask game and answer every question (no need to post it, you can do it in your head or write it down in a notebook)

make picrews of yourself, ideal you, your friend, your imaginary friend, pet, musician or character

learn how to swear on every language

go to any poll blog and vote

duolingo. yes

if you dont have mustache and beard, draw it on your face and maybe take some selfies with it for fun

watch that movie someone somewhere once recommended you but you still didnt watched somewhy

write or draw something very unsetting what would probably get you termed instantly if you post it online

brush your hair, your dog/cats hair, your toy ponys hair, anything brushable

read the whole wikipedia page about any subculture you find interesting

get some stickers and stick them anywhere in your room

write lists of favs (fav drinks, bands, dog breeds, movies etc)

read modern ukrainian writers. sergiy zhadan, irena karpa, yurij andrukhowych (idk if i wrote their name in english correctly) also make music, check it out

search for your local bands (the easiest way is to search your city tag in bandcamp)

then search for your local concerts. go to your local concerts of your local bands. most of them are cheap

get a blindbox toy. idc if youre adult. its fun. maybe get a kinder surprise egg if you can (a chocolate egg is usually 110-120kcal)

watch some good old bloody slasher or japanese horror movie

get a notebook with a locker and make a fucking anadiary. make it sappy or overdramatic or heroinchicy or 80rockstary. doesnt matter

google about arsons in your hometown and look at cool fire pics

#ed br #ed cw #boy ed #ana male #anor3c1a #ed blogg

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clarktooncrossing · 1 year ago

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Giraffe's Eye View: Christmas Specials Special (2023) | A Christmas Carol Goes Wrong

Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost is nipping at your nose. Mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again. All the dogs in the neighborhood somehow learned to bark Jingle Bells in sync. Yet retail workers are still more annoyed with Mariah Carey. Snow is getting shoveled, tossed, and formed into sentient beings leading parades without permits. It makes for an excellent distraction as the Krampus abducts children for bad behavior. Fruitcake is exchanged only to find its permanent home in the garbage. Terrorists have hijacked the Holiday office party right before your boss can give you a Jelly of the Month Club membership as your bonus. And of course, the Turducken has returned to wreak its fiery vengeance upon an unsuspecting world! If all this doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, perhaps these following Holiday specials will!

Greetings people of today and robots of tomorrow! It is I, Santa Clark, your geeky giraffe friend with a deep love of Christmas! My obsession for the yuletide is rivaled only by Maleficent’s hatred for it, which is saying a lot considering she once teamed up with Mad Madam Mim to kidnap the literal Spirit of Christmas. Yes, that really happened. I know this due to my annual pilgrimage to the Island of Misfit Specials, home to obscure or nerdy festive media ranging from movies, TV episodes, and comics. It’s no easy journey. Constantly I find myself confronted by sinister snowmen, genocidal gingerbread men, and worst of all, crappy commercials. Getting stabbed in the foot by a candy-cane wielding cookie is one thing, but I swear I’ve seen that ad for Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium more times than I’ve seen Miracle on 34th Street! Sometimes at night I catch myself reciting that jingle. Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium: Where Christmas meets Convenience! Huh, maybe Maleficent had a point.

Nah, my deep-rooted appreciation for this time of year can weather even the most moronic marketing! It helps that most of the merry media I’ve seen have put me in the perfect Holiday mood! Examples include the time a Ninja Turtle found himself trapped in a truck full of stollen toys, a drunk department store Santa stumbling onto a wish-granting magic bag, Big Bird nearly becoming a popsicle, Gwenpool waking up in a world where Galactus took the place of jolly ol’ Saint Nicholas, a terrifying tree stump trying to slaughter some saps over a stupid ship war, and the year when Death gave the Little Match Girl the greatest gift of all. Needless to say, I thought I had seen it all. That is, until I took my friends on a trip to the Island, tasking them to find me new, strange, seasonal specials to review! Some of them were fair, finding me festive favorites as comforting as coco in front of the fireplace. Others were fiendish, wanting to feed off my misery like Gremlins after midnight. Regardless of how naughty or nice my companions were, I’ve compiled all of their suggestions into a makeshift advent calendar! So stay tuned everyday until Christmas to see how badly my buddies can shred what little sanity I have left.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my buddies gave to me...

Freddy Mercury once said the show must go on! It’s a credo that The Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society takes to heart. For better or worse. You can bet your butts that any production they undertake is bound to be a disaster. Actors will be injured, props will be destroyed, the set will randomly combust at least once, and grandmas will get run over by reindeer. Or more accurately, foes of Doctor Who will get run over by elderly aunts. Still, the one thing you can say about a Cornley Drama play? They’re anything but boring! It’s why the Goes Wrong brand of comedy has become so beloved over the last decade. Much like the Simpsons before them, Mischief Theater began entertaining audiences with their own chaotic Christmas capers before airing two bonkers specials on the BBC. Said specials adapted both Peter Pan and A Christmas Carol, my fellow Figment fan Hannah (princessofDisney27) requesting I look at the latter. Thankfully both can be found for free on YouTube so long as you don’t mind ads. Who’s more miserly: Ebeneezer Scrooge or the folks running YouTube? You make the call! In any case, let’s look at A Christmas Carol Goes Wrong to see what they get right.

A lot, obviously. Starting with the fact that these British bozos have hijacked the show. Turns out the channel best known for Fleabag didn’t want these misfits back after botching Peter Pan last year. I don’t see what the big deal is! Just because Peter’s shadow caught on fire, Tinkerbell nearly got electrocuted to death, and Captain Hook hijacked a Teletubby doesn’t mean these talented actors shouldn’t be given a second shot. In case you’re wondering, yes, all that actually happened. Have I mentioned these programmes are insane? This one is no different as the cast try to retell this Charles Dickens classic.

Making up said cast is Chris Bean (Henry Shields), portraying the main miser much to the ire of his louder and larger costar Robert Groves (Henry Lewis). Not contempt with playing the non-speaking Ghost of Christmas Future, the egotistical maniac makes it his mission to completely incapacitate Chris. In the process he falls through the floor in Scrooge’s home, shoots renowned screen actor Derek Jacobi in the neck with a blow dart, smashes a large crate over poor Tiny Tim (Ellie Morris) before assuming the role himself, and generally proves why he’s my favorite member of the ensemble. Seriously, Robert might be the biggest reason my cheeks began hurting from laughter. It’s true what he says, anything you can act he can act LOUDER! Even his phantom persona is loud. Whenever this creep cadaver hits its head on the set you can hear Robert going, “Ow.” By gosh is genius!

Besides the constant bickering between Henry and Henry, Dennis Tyde’s (Jonathan Sayer) Bob Cratchet is frequently forgetting his lines. The recurring gag is used to epic effect here, the nervous nitwit having to utilize the surrounding set to recall his dialogue. His colleagues best hope none of the backdrop is turned around or blocked, otherwise Dennis has no hopes of remembering even the simplest lines. He has no coins in his coin purse or a clue as to what’s going on. Uoy sselb! It’s certainly frustrating for Sandra Wilkinson and her boyfriend Max Bennett, portrayed by then real-life couple Charlie Russel and Dave Hearn. No idea if they’re still together, but it makes for cute on-screen chemistry. Especially when it’s a case of opposites attracting, Sandra the screen-loving Miss Piggy type while Max is a doofus unclear on the concept of ‘fiction’. He at least makes for a great Ghost of Christmas Present despite weeping over a false presumption that his love plans to dump him once the story’s over. Look on the plus side buddy, at least that’s one less gift you have to wrap!

I joke, but honestly all the emotions land perfectly, both humorous and heart-felt. All of these weirdos are way more interesting than Whatsherface from Power Rangers. Blame that on a balance of witty writing and amazing acting. There’s more members of the company I’ve yet to mention who all kill it whenever on screen. Like when Annie Twilloil (Nancy Zamit) gets a prop gun stuck to her hand after an unfortunate glue incident, Jonathan Harris (Greg Tannahill) learning why Jacob Marley hated his chains so much, or technical director Trevor Watson (Rob Falconer) raining pizza down on London before wrecking it like Godzilla! It’s too funny for words, I’M DYING!

However, where it fails is in the actual adaptation part. Like most iterations, the devil’s in the details. Some incarnations fare better than others when streamlining the story. Not so much here, mostly in regards to Scrooge’s visits by the spirits. His past is almost entirely skipped over, sole focus placed on the break up with Belle. Eh, I’m sure his crappy childhood, deceased sister, or first job at Fezziwig’s isn’t important. Luckily they make up for these failings by giving the Cornley cast their own spin on the story. Chris is ready to move on and leave his troupe behind, though not before selfishly stabbing them in the back first. Upon seeing his character’s grave he realizes how selfish he’s been, apologizing to his amigos before finally letting Robert play the part. Rather a clever subversion, actually. Though really, even if you’re like me and are hung up on changes by that, you’ll be too busy busting a gut to notice. Compared to other Christmas Carols this is by far the funniest. Make up your mind Bob, are you gonna give to charity or not? WANG!

Though if your taste for brilliant British comedy isn’t satisfied yet, feast your eyes on The Nativity! In this second season episode of The Goes Wrong Show, the BBC has finally cut funds to these twits, hence why the birth of Christ is sponsored by Brookshaw Corporate Finance. Even Jesus loves cash! Blessed be the writers who thought up this running joke. Later when the Three Wise Men visit Joseph (Hearn) and Mary (Russel) in the manger they’re given gold standard accreditation, frankincense-ible advice on all their financial interests, and low-cost myrrh-gage rates. Badum tish! Fear not; for behold, it’s more than just painful puns. We also have the piano catching fire during a performance of Silent Night, desserts in place of a desert, an idiot innkeeper, nine wise men, John the Baptist, and Robert Grove as the Archangel Gabriel. All I need to say here is: Halo! On top of the cunning comedy, the set design is stupendous! It’s made to look like a pop-up book, pages turning to reveal a new location full of new mistakes to be made. I’d go on about other yuletide offerings by these professional screwups, but really I should save them for future reviews. For now I’ll close the book on the Cornley Drama Society and turn the page to reveal a familiar frog.

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carewyncromwell · 2 years ago

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“My father wasn’t around -- (My father wasn’t around) I swear that I’ll be around for you. I’ll do whatever it takes; I’ll make a million mistakes; I’ll make the world safe and sound for you... We’ll come of age with our young nation -- We’ll bleed and fight for you... We’ll make it right for you! If we lay a strong enough foundation, We’ll pass it on to you -- we'll give the world to you, And you'll blow us all away... Someday, someday...”

~“Dear Theodosia (cover)” by Regina Spektor and Ben Folds

x~x~x~x

partially inspired by a conversation with @dat-silvers-girl // featuring a quick reference to Katriona Cassiopeia @kc-and-co 💜

x~x~x~x

The summer of 1998 had felt warmer than it had in years. The warmth seemed to ripple from the outside in, given the immense relief that came with the death of Voldemort and with it the end of the Second Wizarding War. And even though yes, there was a lot of work still to do to restore balance to the world, right the wrongs committed during the War, and move forward toward a brighter future, everything still seemed to shine that touch brighter.

Hope, it seems, can make even the most unremarkable rocks shine like diamonds.

It was in the summer, and right as Carewyn began what would be a long crusade to try and convict every ex-Death Eater for their crimes, that Carewyn received a letter from her old school friend and associate Orion Amari. He and his nearly two-year-old daughter Eos had recently returned to Montrose, Scotland, after being in hiding from the Death Eaters for several months. With the financial reimbursement he’d received from both the Ministry and the League as post-War damages, Orion had just managed to scrape together enough money to purchase a run-down old cottage in the woods outside of Montrose, which he was now working to fix up and obscure with the proper enchantments for himself and Eos to live in.

As much as I have never lamented living in a small one-room flat by myself, Orion’s letter explained, I realize that for a young child, such a place would lack stimulation and even less chance for freedom and exploration. Perhaps a home in such a quiet and green place, as opposed to the suburbs or in the country, could provide a sanctuary for Eos: one where she can experience many wonderful new things and experiment with her own magic away from prying eyes. And perhaps, on a more selfish note, being more physically removed from town could give me some cover from more overzealous members of the press, who I’ve only been able to keep at bay in the past by living alongside Muggles.

Carewyn was touched by how much her old friend thought of his daughter’s happiness. She wished she’d had the freedom with her own job and income to consider moving into a larger space herself -- she loved her tiny flat in London, but recently she had had to make some layout changes, so as to give her new ward -- twelve-year-old Erik Apollo -- some space of his own.

Mum came over to give me a hand with turning the hall closet into a second bedroom last week, Carewyn confided to Orion in a letter of her own at one point. She had to do the same thing for me when I was young, so she has plenty of experience with such magic -- but I was only a bit older than Eos, back then. Erik is set to start his first year at Hogwarts next month: he deserves some space of his own, and privacy at that, and he can’t have that in such a small room. Erik’s been referring to the new room as his “shoebox” as a joke -- even if he’s said multiple times that its size isn’t a problem and I know he means it, I still hope I can find a safe way to expand his room a bit more before he comes home for the holidays.

In September, Carewyn brought Erik to Platform Nine and Three Quarters to start his first year at school. Despite the sticky, unpleasant heat clinging to the air, the curly blond-haired boy was dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans -- Erik didn’t like the looks he got from passerby for the magical burn scars around his neck, which had been inflicted on him by Death Eater Thorfinn Rowle.

“Do you have everything you need?” Carewyn asked him. “Your trunk? Your wallet?”

“Everything and everyone,” said Erik with a wry smile, indicating the black-and-white tuxedo cat yowling in his carrier at his side.

Carewyn offered her ward’s new familiar a pitying smile as she brought a hand up to the bars of his cage, petting the top of his head with a single finger.

“Aww...it’s all right,” she said gently. “Erik can take you out on the train.”

“Only if he agrees not to claw anybody,” Erik said dryly. When the cat yowled unhappily again, he added, “Sorry, Han Solo, I don’t have enough to pay off the train conductor if you cause any permanent damage.”

Carewyn laughed softly behind her hand, which made Erik’s light blue eyes sparkle with that bit more satisfaction.

“I’d best be off,” said Erik stridently. “Train’s leaving in ten.”

Carewyn nodded in agreement. She brought a hand onto his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

“Send me an owl if you need anything,” she said seriously. “There’ll be plenty of owls in the owlery you can use to send me a letter...and even if you end up in Hufflepuff or Slytherin, there are collection trays where post can be delivered down to you, outside of mealtimes.”

Erik nodded. “Thanks, Ms. Cromwell.”

Carewyn gave him a brave smile. Then, opening her arms, she encircled the small boy in a full, warm hug -- Erik, even despite the straightness of his posture, accepted her hold and even gave her a light squeeze before releasing her and dashing up to the open train door, hoisting his trunk up after him. Then, with one last wave, he retreated into the train car to get settled for the trip to school.

It was a strange, bereft kind of feeling, watching the train with Erik on board pull out of the station and out of sight. Even if the boy truly was only twelve years younger than her and was of an age more like a younger sibling than a child, Carewyn couldn’t help but wonder if her own mother felt like this, watching Jacob and her leave for school all those years ago.

Later that September, Carewyn received another letter from Orion. This one’s contents, however, surprised Carewyn more than any of the others they’d exchanged.

Carewyn,

I realize that for someone as enamored with plans and order as you, this request will be very abrupt -- but would you be able to visit Eos and me here in Scotland at all tomorrow evening? Any time around sunset would be suitable.

Please do not hesitate in your response. Even if it must be no, I will simply be happy to receive a letter from you so quickly.

Orion

Carewyn read the letter several times in slight confusion. The request was definitely a bit out of left field. Orion had come to see her several times, both as she helped him secure legal custody of Eos and when he came to the Ministry as a representative for the Quidditch League. Carewyn had even let Orion sleep on her couch overnight without planning ahead, simply because he had to report back to the Ministry right away the next morning. But Orion hadn’t ever asked her to come to his place before -- if nothing else, it was still very newly “his place,” as it was. Him suddenly inviting her over without explaining why...it signaled that his reason had to be important...

Carewyn’s eyes lingered on the last line as she took out some parchment and wrote out a quick response of her own.

Orion,

I should be able to finish up with my casework by 8:00. I could Floo from my office right over to you, if you’d like.

Let me know,

Carewyn

The Ministry lawyer folded the short note into thirds, closed it with a seal, and held it out to the owl so it could snatch it up in its beak and fly off, back out of her office and out of sight down the hall.

Orion’s response came mere hours later. It was even shorter, and its flowing, yet messy penmanship -- typical to Orion -- was a bit more slanted, as if it had been written very quickly.

8:00 is a lovely time to look forward to. While making your trip, simply ask to be brought to “Dawn’s Haven.”

Until tomorrow,

Orion

The following night Carewyn didn’t even bother changing out of the dress robes she was wearing into her spare Muggle clothes, as she did whenever she walked home from work. She instead headed straight for the closest Ministry fireplace, tossing some of the spare powder into the grate at her feet before clearly declaring Orion’s directions:

“Dawn’s Haven!”

The emerald green flames flared up around her, encompassing her vision as she was hurtled through space. About twenty seconds later, she found herself reaching another much less polished grate, out of which she exited. When she did, she had to brush aside a strange curtain of hanging green and violet beads just to climb up and out of the grate.

When Carewyn looked up and around, she found herself in a very small, but quaint little cottage. The walls were all made of stained oak and it was decorated eclectically, with a stylized sunflower-printed rug, several mandala floor pillows, a footstool shaped like a turtle, a tiered indoor water fountain, and hanging plants and Arabian-style glass lanterns attached to the beams overhead. There was even a star chart, enchanted with glowing stars and constellations, carved into the ceiling. The lighting was very dim, and yet as warm and colorful as sunlight through a stained glass window. The whole place also smelled of soothing incense -- lavender and sandalwood.

And standing right in front of Carewyn to meet her was Orion himself. He immediately took her hands and helped her straighten up, since she’d bent down to brush the soot from her robes.

“Carewyn,” he said. “How good it is to see you.”

The size and brightness of his smile startled Carewyn. She didn’t think she’d seen him look so happy since she’d agreed to rejoin his Quidditch team back in her sixth year.

“...It’s good to see you too,” she said, still slightly stunned.

She glanced around for Eos. She found the newly-two-year-old girl sitting on her knees at the window across the room, biting her lower lip as she smiled broadly at Carewyn too.

“Your shoulders appear very tense,” said Orion.

Carewyn glanced back awkwardly toward the small stone fireplace she’d just walked through. “Well, from your letter, I’d thought maybe something was wrong, but...”

She brought a hand through her ginger bangs, feeling a bit chagrined.

Orion’s expression softened.

“I see,” he said, his face becoming a bit sheepish despite himself. “Forgive me, Carewyn. It seems in my eagerness, I neglected to reassure you that this was merely a social visit, rather than a fire you had to put out...”

“I didn’t think that,” Carewyn said very quickly, “I just -- well, I just assumed that you had something serious on your mind -- that you needed my input on something...like about your custody of Eos, or the Quidditch League, or...”

“Carewyn.”

Carewyn paused when Orion gave the hand of hers he was still holding a light squeeze. She looked up, just as Orion quickly released her hand, bringing his hand up through his own unevenly cut hair to brush it out of his face.

“I realize you’re trying to reassure me,” he said, sounding rather self-effacing, “but...it’s not comforting, to know I have left you thinking that I would only ever summon you here to ask for your help. And for that, I am sorry.”

Guilt flooded through Carewyn. “No! I don’t think that! It’s just...well, everyone’s needed more help, these days. I’ve had to help a lot of people lately...”

“Me included,” said Orion with a small, sad smile.

“It’s nothing I’ve done unwillingly,” Carewyn said fiercely. “I like helping people, Orion -- it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, to help those people I care about...those people who need my help.”

She couldn’t look him in the eye, so she settled for his shoulder instead.

“...I’ve liked helping you,” she murmured. “You and Eos. Seeing you with her...hearing about what you want for her future...I want to help you achieve that happiness, for her.”

Orion’s black eyes seemed to gleam with a strange, almost deeper glint. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could conjure up any response --

“Caywhen!”

Both Orion and Carewyn straightened up abruptly, and then immediately looked down. Eos had uneasily climbed down from the window ledge and toddled over across the room over to them -- and in that moment, the tiny girl flung out her arms and grabbed onto Carewyn’s right leg through her robes.

Carewyn stared, open-mouthed, from Eos to Orion, who looked just as surprised as she was.

“Did...did she just say my...?”

Eos’s black eyes, identical in color to her father’s, were shining like gems as she pointed urgently up at the window behind her with her pudgy little finger.

“Caywhen!” the little girl said again.

She gave a tug to Carewyn’s leg.

Still faintly stunned, Carewyn let the little girl lead her over to the window. Eos tried to hoist herself up onto the windowsill -- Carewyn helped her climb up, and Eos tapped the glass meaningfully.

Carewyn looked out, to see nothing but darkness. Through the glass, however, she could barely make out a strange sound -- an ethereal sound, echoing through the night...

Almost like music...

Moving the beaded curtain aside to reach the window latch, Carewyn undid it and opened the window so as to better hear.

Sure enough, it was music -- a beautiful, melodic, haunting song, played by instruments she almost thought she recognized: something like a harp, as well as something like a lute...

Carewyn was left mesmerized, just leaning over the window ledge with Eos and listening. The little girl was entranced, her mouth slightly open and her wide black eyes drifting around the window and over the dark woods. She’d clearly never heard anything like it before and could do nothing but just drink it in.

Orion was so quiet that Carewyn didn’t even realize he’d come up alongside her to stand over Eos until his muscular arm brushed up beside hers. When Carewyn looked up, his black eyes were locked on her face and his lips were spread in a gentle smile.

“It’s a turning of the seasons,” he said softly. “From what the previous tenant told me when I bought this house, the selkies that live near the shore like to mark the equinoxes. And now that autumn has officially begun in the eyes of the stars...so have the selkies returned to shore, to play music through the night in celebration.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

“Then...then this is why you invited me,” she said in understanding. “So I could hear the selkies’ music?”

Orion’s eyes trailed over Carewyn’s face with something fonder. “Of course. I knew if there was anyone on this Earth who would appreciate it, it would be you, Carewyn Cromwell.”

Carewyn felt her cheeks warm with a happy blush, unable to hold in how very touched she was by this.

“Caywhen?”

Carewyn looked down at Eos. The little girl had taken hold of her sleeve and given it a light tug as she looked back out the window. Carewyn could sense both awe and curiosity coming off Orion’s daughter through the eye contact they’d made, and it made her bright red lips spread into a smile.

“Those are selkies, Eos,” she said gently. “They’re playing music.”

Eos was listening to Carewyn with rapt attention, even as the two looked back out the open window.

“They sound pretty, don’t they?” said Carewyn.

Eos smiled and nodded, settling herself down on the sill on her stomach and resting her face in both hands so she could lean a bit out the window and listen.

Carewyn smiled fondly down at the little girl, looking back over her shoulder at Orion. Waves of undiluted pride and warmth rippled off of the Montrose Magpie as he gazed down at his daughter. When his eyes flitted up to Carewyn, that warmth seemed to settle slightly as he tried to compose himself, but it still seemed to flood out of Orion’s eyes, accompanied by flickers of memory -- cradling a newborn until she stopped crying -- covering her eyes to tell her to be quiet as they hid together in the shadows --

“Eos listens far more than she speaks,” Orion said very softly.

Carewyn smiled slightly. “Like her father?”

Orion smiled too, but only briefly. “Yes...but not for the same reason. She learned how to be silent at such a young age that, now, I fear she may be more comfortable being silent than in expressing herself openly. She does not mimic sounds others make. She does not experiment with forming words, as other children I’ve seen do. She doesn’t speak much at all, aside from very specific words. ‘Here.’ ‘No.’ ‘Help.’ ‘Dad.’”

Something strange flickered over Orion’s face -- was that shyness?

“...Even...other people’s names are quite rare. Just the ones she’s heard me say before, with some frequency. ‘Skye’ -- ‘Nully’ -- ‘KC’ -- ‘Wath’ -- ”

“And ‘Caywhen,’” Carewyn finished, unable to keep herself from smiling. She even felt her cheeks warming with a charmed blush.

Orion’s face seemed to flush a bit too despite himself. “Apparently so.”

Carewyn tilted her head at him in confusion.

“I was just as surprised to hear your name emerge from Eos’s mouth as you were,” Orion admitted, smiling through the flush in his cheeks. “...I suppose I didn’t realize just how often I’ve spoken of you, as of late...”

Carewyn smiled a bit more kindly. “Hmm...well, we have spent a lot of time together, these last few months.”

She reached out and gently took his hand.

“I’m glad I’ve been able to see you again,” she said, “instead of just writing letters. Even if the circumstances haven’t been exactly ideal.”

“...Indeed.”

Orion’s gaze drifted down at their hands. His thumb lightly slid along the back of her hand as he secured his hold.

“It’s...been a blessing, to reconnect with you after so long, Carewyn,” he said softly. “To...spend time with you like this...without any threat looming over us...nor any mantle of heroism thrust upon you.”

His eyes gained something a bit more solemn as he met her gaze. She could sense something soothing coming off of him -- something akin to a hand over hers, lowering her wand for her...

“As much as you have helped Eos and me...and as grateful as I shall always be for that,” Orion said softly, “I want you to know...that my wish to see you can be just about want, and not always about need. And that even when it is the second...you can always say no, with no regrets.”

Carewyn stared at Orion for a moment, a bit taken aback. She could practically see him as a young man again, asking her multiple times to rejoin his Quidditch team, only for Carewyn to have to regretfully decline the invitation, in the face of her pursuing the Cursed Vaults and saving Jacob.

The memory made Carewyn’s lips curl up in a bittersweet smile as she glanced away.

“...Thank you. But honestly...I’m just glad that I’m in the position now that I don’t have to say no.”

At Eos shifting slightly, Carewyn looked down, to see the little girl adjusting underneath her and Orion so that she was more comfortably nestled between them. His black eyes softening fondly, Orion extended his hand not holding Carewyn’s and rested it beside his daughter, creating an almost canopy over her as he rested his chin lightly on top of her head and looked out the window. Carewyn watched the father and daughter with fondness before she too looked back out the window, listening to the sounds of the selkies’ mystical, celebratory melodies echoing through the trees.

The three sat there by the window for a long while. As the night wore on, the music evolved and changed. Soon it’d gotten late enough that Eos was getting restless, so the three shifted over to the living space. Orion brewed himself and Carewyn some lavender tea and Eos some hot water and lemon, while Eos sat in the papasan chair with Carewyn and she told Eos about the different musical instruments she could pick out in the selkies’ music.

“You hear that high, clear, echoing sound? Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh. That’s something glass -- like a glass armonica.”

Eos smiled whenever Carewyn sang along with the selkies’ playing. The sight made Orion’s eyes sparkle with warmth as he came back over with two mugs of tea and one of hot water and lemon.

“Come get your narwhal, Eos,” he said amusedly.

This statement made more sense when he held up Eos’s mug, which was shaped like a ceramic blue narwhal.

Eos bounced right out of her spot next to Carewyn so she could take her mug from her father. She then toddled over to the pile of pillows on the floor, where she plopped herself down on her stomach, pointedly blew on the hot water three times, and took a long sip from her mug.

Orion walked over to Carewyn and held out two mugs of tea with a wry smile -- one white with a black octopus printed on it and the other black printed with the white words “I’d Rather Be Playing Quidditch” on it. With a laugh, Carewyn reached out and took the one decorated with the octopus.

“Was that other one a present?” she asked.

Orion grinned. “They both were. From McNully and Skye, respectively."

“And the narwhal?” asked Carewyn.

“Adopted by Eos -- paid for by KC,” Orion said with a grin.

Carewyn covered her mouth as she laughed. “I was thinking of ‘adopting’ a mug for Erik too, at some point.”

“Does he also enjoy tea?”

“Not so much -- but I thought some hot chocolate or butterbeer would be appropriate around Christmas.”

“A reasonable thought. Hot apple cider could also be a nice alternative.”

Taking a sip of the lavender tea from the black mug, the Chaser settled himself down next to his daughter on the pillows. Eos snuggled up beside her father, and Carewyn smiled seeing how gently Orion’s black eyes shined as he lightly ruffled her bangs with one hand.

“Orion?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for this,” Carewyn said softly. “All of this...the tea, the company, but also...well, the music. It’s just...”

She shifted herself in the chair, her hands holding the mug of tea in her lap as she looked back over toward the window wistfully.

“...It’s so beautiful,” she murmured.

After such a long War, full of fear and fighting and work and worrying -- after focusing solely on helping as many people as she could, with what little power she had to try to make things right...sitting in a comfortable, lavender-and-sandlewood-scented cottage, listening to selkies celebrate the season through song, was medicinal to Carewyn’s spirit in a way she couldn’t put into words.

Orion was quiet for a very, very long moment as he watched Carewyn. At one point, he even caught his little daughter biting her lip as she grinned up at him and Carewyn, and he quickly averted his gaze, trying to bite back a self-conscious smile of his own.

“...You’re welcome.”

Always, he never said aloud, but he hoped dearly would still come across. You will always be welcome, here. ...Always...

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #aesthetic #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #erik apollo #katriona cassiopeia #lane cromwell #eos amari #fanfiction #'dawn's haven' is a reference to eos's name!#eos means 'dawn'#so orion wants this to be a safe place for his bb girl :')#erik's a big star wars fan hence his cat being named han solo #carewyn would probably end up getting him a darth vader mug or something XDDD #also yes godparents mcnully and kc are 150% some of eos's favorite people #they ttly spoil her hahahaha

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grudgecollector · 3 years ago

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the most wonderful time of the year | otto octavius

Pairing: Otto Octavius / GN!Reader

Story Summary: After a horrible Christmas with your family, you went to the only place you knew would make you feel better, a very small Christmas party hosted in an Oscorp break room.

Words: 1.8k

Tags/Warnings: !!TAKES PLACE AFTER NO WAY HOME!! Smallest spoiler ever, swearing, hurt/comfort, mentions of reader having a bad/uncaring family, fluff, not fully beta-read

A/N: This is an extremely self indulgent comfort fic. This takes place in Tobey!Peter’s universe.

Your fingers curled into a fist, tears finally being released from your dewy eyes once you were finally parked in the all too familiar parking lot. It had been a long awaited release of emotions being bottled up throughout the entire morning as you suffered through Christmas with your family. It was supposed to be a holiday that brought happiness and cheer but all it brought to you was an overwhelming sense of disappointment and resentment, a reminder that you were the odd one out.

A broken sob left your lips as your chest heaved painfully, your mind turning fuzzy as the memories of the morning already started to become muddy.

The most painful reminder of it all was the guilt you felt for being so disappointed. Had it been selfish of you to not enjoy the things wholeheartedly even though you already knew exactly what you got? You glanced over at the pile of books lying pitifully in the passenger seat next to you. There wasn’t a single present that screamed ‘I was thinking of you when I got this’, no uniqueness to it like your other family members had gotten. But even still knowing that you still felt guilty for wanting more effort put in, that you didn’t appreciate it enough, or smile enough when tearing the paper to yet another book.

A knock on your driver’s side window made you jump violently in your seat, you looked over through your tear filled eyes, the figure obscured and blurry but you still knew who it was. Your window slowly rolled down as you wiped the tears from your eyes and the sight of Peter Parker was finally clear.

“You okay?” Is all he asks, concern evident with how his brows furrowed and lips are twisted into a frown.

“Oh… You know, just family being family.” You chuckle as if you hadn’t just been caught bawling your eyes out. “Are you guys still having that Christmas party? I know I said I probably wasn’t gonna come but…”

“Hey don’t even worry about it, you’re always more than welcome. It actually just started not too long ago.” He reassures you, opening the door for you once you unbuckled yourself. “MJ was just asking about you actually.” He held his hand out for you to take, helping you out of your car even though you didn’t really need it, Peter was just doing what Peter did best.

“That’s so sweet.” You say with a watery smile, the tears welling up again in your fragile emotional state.

---

You were awestruck when you walked through the door, one of the break rooms in Oscorp having been decorated so perfectly, not a single inch of the room had been left untouched by streamers, tinsel, or shiny red and gold decoration. The tree was beautiful too, perfectly decorated and standing tall in the corner. Norman very clearly took advantage of the opportunity to go all out when Peter had brought the idea of a party up at the beginning of the month.

“Oh you came!” MJ came up to you with a beaming smile, a cup of apple cider in her hand. She gave you a warm hug, rubbing your back with her free hand, “It’s so good to see you.” She said with a softer smile, one that told you that she was here for you.

“We’ve got food, music that Norman insisted on being played, non alcoholic drinks because it’s twelve pm, and your best friends to help you feel better.” Peter placed a hand on your shoulder “Oh and Octavius is here too.” Peter wiggled his eyebrows at you with a smirk plastered on his face, making your face heat up.

“Shut the hell up, Parker.” You laugh, hitting him in the chest with the back of your hand.

“Oh, don’t tease them Peter.” MJ half heartedly scolded with a smile on her face, “He is here though, right over there.”

She pointed at Otto, who was standing in front of Norman laughing at something he had said. The tentacles on his back moved around occasionally, thankfully no longer a nuisance on him like they had been. He was wearing a deep red turtleneck and the long black coat that he always wore.

“You guys are evil.” You muttered to yourself as you quickly averted your eyes and looked back at MJ. You risked a glance back at Otto, finding that he was already looking over in your direction. He gave you a small smile, waving at you.

“Oh god.” You whisper under your breath, waving back at Otto with a smile. “Do I look okay?” You ask them anxiously

“You look great.” MJ says, placing a comforting hand on your bicep.

You spent the remainder of the party talking with Peter and MJ. Eventually Norman made his way over to you followed by Otto, who still had the ever present smile on his face slowly nursing his own cup of apple cider. The hours went by filled with laughter, pleasant conversations, and scientific discussions you didn’t understand.

But things came to a halt when Peter stopped abruptly mid sentence and glanced towards the window just in time for a loud explosion to be heard in the distance.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, your arm brushing against Otto’s when you turned to look at everyone else.

“I don’t know…” Peter said slowly, quickly making his way to the window and pushing some of the streamers out of the way so he could see outside “Shit, I have to go. I’m so sorry guys, I promise I’ll be back just in time to help clean up.” He was rushing out of the room, giving one final wave to you all and letting the door close behind him.

“Well, I feel like it would be a good time to call it a night before a car gets thrown through my building with all of us in here.” Norman jokes, already making his way to the food table and taking a snowman sugar cookie from the plate they were placed on, “I’m going to get more trash bags, I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go help him find those, be right back!” MJ said following after Norman.

A nervous heat began to rise in your body at that realization that you were standing in the room alone alone with Otto next to you, hoping you didn’t seem too awkward as you turned to the side only to see Otto already looking at you from over the rim of his cup.

“I guess it’s up to us to start cleaning then.” He said with a soft chuckle.

“I guess so.” You agree.

Both Otto and you went to opposite sides of the break room, filling the trash bags with the streamers and tensile that were hanging all over the room.

You were really glad you came to the party, even if it had ended as abruptly as it did, it helped you forget how horrible your morning was. You couldn’t have been more thankful to have Peter and MJ in your life.

You’ve been best friends with Peter and Harry since high school they’ve seen many of your highs and lows throughout your life, especially when it came to your family, and in the end Peter and MJ were always by your side.

Once the trash bag you were holding was almost entirely full you wanted to place it by the door, you looked down at your sweater, adjusting the sleeves around your wrists as you walked to the door, looking up just in time for you to almost collide with Otto who had also not been paying attention to where he was going.

“Oh shit, sorry!” You rush out as you lightly bump into each other. Otto’s hand instinctively caught your forearm to steady you just in case you fell, “Should’ve been watching where I was going.”

“It’s no problem.” Otto smiles, his gaze soft. “Did you get everything over there?” He asks, looking up at the ceiling where the streamers had been skillfully hung by Peter’s webs.

His eyes lingered on a certain spot above the both of you though, you followed his gaze to the little green decoration hanging above both of your heads. The mistletoe was tied at the end with a red bow with gold edges, hanging just high enough above the door to not be shut into it.

“Oh…” You whisper with a slightly awkward chuckle, “I didn’t even know that was there.”

“Me neither.” Otto muttered, his cheeks becoming a soft red, “We don’t… If you don’t want…” He trails off awkwardly.

“Well I mean if you don’t…” You add, “I mean…” Your face became hotter as you carefully pushed out your next words quietly, “It is tradition… It’s actually kinda interesting because in Norse mythology Loki actually used it to kill Baldur. But in some stories he’s resurrected and Frigg was so happy that it became, well… What it is...” You trailed off awkwardly, your rambling coming out slightly strained as you tried to alleviate the anxiety you felt while standing beneath the taunting green plant with the man you’ve had feelings for.

Finally you were able to tear your eyes away from the mistletoe to see Otto already staring at you for the third time that night, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want just because it may be tradition.”

“Who said I didn’t want to?” You say before even thinking, your brows furrowing when you look into his deep brown eyes, happy that they weren’t being obscured by the sunglasses he sometimes wore.

Otto seemed taken aback by your quick response. Your eyes fall to his lips when they part only slightly, “I…” He starts but doesn’t finish as he throws caution to the wind and leans in, your lips touching in a soft kiss.

Your hand comes up to rest on his bicep, drawing yourself a little closer as you kiss him back hoping to diminish any doubts he may have. His own hand makes its way to your jaw, his thumb softly stroking against the apple of your cheek before you slowly pull away from each other.

You found it hard to open your eyes, still feeling as if you were floating on a cloud, but when they fluttered open you looked into his beautiful brown eyes which looked back, swimming with emotion and a small smile plastered on his face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He whispers.

“Me too…” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Sorry I took so long! There was this huge- oh!” Peter stopped in tracks after swinging into the window you had left open for him “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” He held his hands up, you could practically hear the smug smile he had behind his mask as you and Otto quickly separated from each other “Glad you guys found the mistletoe through! Great party, I’m gonna go ahead and find MJ, bye!” And just as fast as he came he was gone again through the same window.

“That little shit.” You mutter, unable to shake the smile on your face as you glanced over at Otto, who mirrored your expression.

#violet writes #otto octavius imagine #otto octavius x reader #otto octavius reader insert #doc ock imagine #doc ock x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman reader insert #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel reader insert #marvel imagine #marvel #spiderman spoilers #spiderman nwh #spiderman nwh spoilers #nwh spoilers #spiderman

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

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The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - The First Year

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Chapters will have additional warning when necessary.

Tag list ( let me know if you want to be tagged or removed idk haha) @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia

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Part I - The First Year

Hogwarts will be fun was the first thought you had when you opened the letter in your hands.

Tony, your older brother, ruffled your hair slightly as he came down into the kitchen and watched you open the mail.

"Your letter finally arrived, huh, little witch?" He joked with a smile as he sat down at the table.

"I can't wait to go!" You commented excitedly rereading the acceptance letter for the third time.

"Miss, after coffee, can we go to diagonal alley if you like?" Jarvis, your butler, asked you politely as he poured Tony's coffee making you hesitate slightly. Tony, who had his eye on you, forced a smile as he patted you on the arm.

"I'll go with you, don't worry." He assured and you nodded.

"I wish dad would come." You grumble as you sit down and Tony sighs.

" Yeah, me too." He says. "But you know he's busy, and we can't leave it to the last minute."

You mumble in agreement as you serve some sweetbreads on your plate.

Eating in silence for a few moments, you are startled slightly when Tony lets out an exclamation.

"Damn, I forgot to write back to Steve." He announces getting up and walking over to the next shelf where there were some stationery and pen.

"Your boyfriend will be upset." You tease lightly, and Tony mumbles softly without responding.

When he finishes writing the letter, he goes to the kitchen window and opens the metal, whistling loudly in a familiar rhythm. A few seconds later, Iron, his barn owl lands in front of him. Tony stroked the animal gently before dangling the letter in his paws.

" Please take this to Steve, Iron." He ordered and the animal made a noise before flying away again.

"Jarvis, I'll get ready to go." You tell the man as soon as you finish eating and head off toward the stairs.

//-//

Diagonal Alley is a noisy place.

Tony asked you to walk beside him, but you stopped walking at the first Quidditch shop you spotted, and he had to turn back halfway when he noticed you were no longer beside him.

"Don't do that." He warned, mildly annoyed, but you glazed over at the exposed broom in front of you, and he let out a chuckle when he noticed. "Come on, Y/N, you already have a broom."

"But that's no ordinary broom." You retorted with an impressed look. "It's a Nimbus 2000, it's the fastest broom there is."

"You have the 99, I don't understand the difference." He retorted with his hands in his pockets and you shrugged.

"Tony, can we buy it?" You asked pleadingly, making your brother laugh slightly.

"Let's buy your stuff first please" He retorted with a smile and you grumbled but accepted the arm he offered for you to hang on. Jarvis walked behind you with a keen eye on your surroundings.

After you had bought the vast majority of your supplies and replenished your stocks of potions items for Tony, Jarvis took you to Blossoms and Blurbs to buy this year's books.

"Good morning! Hogwarts, third and first year books, please." You heard Jarvis tell the clerk who approached you three. Tony nodded his head signaling you to feel free to walk around the bookstore in the meantime, and that is exactly what you did.

You found many interesting books in the place as you walked among the shelves. One in particular caught your attention, as there seemed to be little miniature magical creatures trying to jump out of the cover, and you grabbed it on a table, watching the item carefully.

You smiled when an ink dragon jumped into your hand, moving your head as if you were looking around. Distracted by the book, you let out a low exclamation when someone bumped into you.

"Sorry, kid." You heard a female voice speak in a humorous tone. It is a girl taller than you, short red hair. "I ended up tripping over some of those runner books."

"It's okay." You said with a smile. The girl looked at the one book in your hands for a moment.

"Do you enjoy creature tracts?" She asks casually as she reaches for a book on the bookshelf beside her.

"I don't know yet." You say and she looks at you slightly confused, "I never studied."

"Ah, first-year." She understands and you nod in agreement. "Hogwarts too or some other?"

"Hogwarts."

"Cool, I guess I'll see you there then." She says. "I'm from Slytherin, third year."

You let out a surprised exclamation.

"Maybe you know my brother." You say and the girl takes her gaze from the books in her hand she was checking to look at you with her eyebrow raised in curiosity. "His name is Tony Stark, he's also from your house."

The girl lets out a short laugh.

"I can't believe you are Stark's sister." She says. "We're not exactly friends, but I've seen him around the dorm several times. And your brother is a pain in the ass, by the way."

You laugh lightly, agreeing.

"I am Natasha Romanoff." She introduces herself next, balancing her books in one hand to greet you. You introduce yourself with a gentle smile. "Good luck with your books." She says before turning away.

You think it's cool that you already know someone besides your brother before you start at Hogwarts.

//-//

Buying your wand is a rather strange experience.

Mr. Ollivander has a glint in his eye as if he knows everyone's secrets, and seems to disappear and reappear in his store very easily.

Tony sat on one of the stools while he waited for you, and Jarvis went to buy something for you two to eat.

After trying almost five wands, and exploding a glass vase when he tried the last one, Mr. Ollivander sighed.

"Sorry, I don't know why it's not working." You asked feeling nervous, but he smiled.

"Don't worry, dear." He said. "Difficult customers are so much fun."

He walked back in between the shelves after that, and then reappeared with three new packages.

"I remember when Howard Stark bought his wand." He told smiling nostalgically as you opened one of the packages, a black wand in front of you. "Phoenix, Cedar, slightly flexible."

"Dad has changed wands thousands of times." Added Tony wryly, but Mr. Ollivander didn't seem to mind.

The wand you tested let out a faint spark when you tried to cast a simple conjuration spell, and the man in front of you was quick to take it from your hand the next second.

"I think I have a better idea." He announced turning around, and then climbed the ladder supported by the wall, picking up a package at the top.

"Try this one dear." He asked handing you a dark wand, the wood was shiny, a color you didn't know exactly what it was, but it was beautiful.

When you grabbed the item, you felt a tingling sensation spread throughout your hand, and the wand vibrated slightly for a few seconds, causing Ollivander to let out a noise of excitement.

"You see, I knew I would find an owner for you dear." He spoke and you realized that he was speaking with the item in your hands. Soon he turned his gaze back to you. "Take good care of this one, will you, it was quite difficult to get dark elf blood for the core."

"R-right." You said with a slight frown, not quite sure what to make of that information.

Tony laughed lightly at the interaction, he should be used to Mr. Ollivander's eccentric manner by now, since he kept breaking his wands just like your father and often returned to the store to get a new one.

After paying, you and Tony met Jarvis outside, he was carrying some sweet rolls.

//-//

July ended too quickly for your happiness. You were very eager to go to school.

You spent most of August at home, playing quidditch with Tony in the backyard, curiously reading the magic books you bought, and trying to peek into the basement where your father worked, but he always caught you looking and smiled, asking you to go back to your room.

You would like your father to take you to the station, but he said he had a magic conference in September, and would be traveling for the next few weeks. Tony was upset, but he put his arm around your shoulders and asked you to hurry to get your bags.

When you finally got to the station, you were slightly nervous about going through a wall, but Tony laughed, and showed you how to go first.

You hugged Jarvis good-bye before following your brother along the way.

Tony dragged you across the train cars to the first empty cabin he could find. He commented that it would be nice if you made your own friends, but that he would like you to sit with him.

So here you were, sitting with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, Tony's best friends since the first year. The boys smiled encouragingly at you. You already knew them, because Tony kept inviting them to spend holidays with him all the time.

"Hey, Y/N, how was your vacation?" Steve asked as soon as you sat down next to him. You shrugged, saying that it was nice, but that you were looking forward to attending Hogwarts.

Soon the boys started talking about what they were excited about next year, and you did your best to keep up, not knowing exactly who the people they mentioned were, or knowing the classes they talked about.

Many minutes after the train was moving, a girl opened the cabin door.

"Hey, strangers." She greeted with a smile.

"Hi Peggy." Steve said with a smile, you frowned at the slight scowl on your brother's face.

"They're calling for us in the prefects compartment, Steve." She warned and Steve nodded, getting up. He and the girl then left, and Tony crossed his arms.

"What's wrong?" You asked noticing his posture and the way Bucky had a little smile on his face.

"It's nothing." Grumbled your brother, and as he turned his face to the window, Bucky who was standing in front of you, whispered to you.

"Tony thinks Peggy likes Steve." He recounted. "So he doesn't like Peggy very much."

"Oh." You said, pretending to understand the whole plot. It didn't make much sense to you because everyone couldn't be friends, but you figured that when you were your brother's age you would understand better.

//-//

The Hogwarts Express only stopped at night.

Properly uniformed, you smiled when your brother patted you on the shoulder, telling you that he would meet you at the castle, since the first-year students had to go by boat.

Your hands were sweating a little as you walked up to the extraordinarily tall man who introduced himself as Drax.

"First-year students, please, six in each boat." He shouted to the crowd, and the students moved closer together.

You sat in one of the first little boats, five other children you didn't know surrounding you.

"I'm so excited." A blonde girl commented cheerfully, waving her hands. She smiled at everyone as she introduced herself as "Harley Quinn".

"I bet you''ll blow something up once we get there, Harley" Added a redheaded girl sitting next to you, you could tell by her tone that they were probably friends. The blonde, Harley, laughed.

"Shut up, Ivy." She said, and then Drax was back, climbing into one of the boats beside her. He checked the boats one last time, then waved his hand, and the transports began to move.

Everyone, including you, let out a chorus of excitement.

When you noticed the castle, you smiled. It was huge, and just as amazing as Tony used to tell you.

"Wow, it must be amazing to fly over all that." You quietly observed, and the girl next to you turned her head in your direction, smiling.

"Do you like flying?" She asked, and you nodded. She looked at you for a moment and then held out her hand to greet you. "I am Diana. Diana Prince."

"Hi, Diana." You said introducing yourself next. "Do you also like to fly?"

"I love it." She says. "I hope i can make it onto the team."

"I don't know if the first-years have any chance, but I'll be rooting for you." You assure, and Diana smiles.

When the boats stop in the harbor, the students are all excited to get out and see the castle, but Drax's almost intimidating posture makes everyone properly behaved.

He leads the crowd to the staircase, and then there is a lobby. There is a woman waiting for everyone, her strict posture makes you think she is someone you wouldn't want to upset.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." She announces. "I am Professor Okoye, head of Gryffindor house."

The students exchange burbles next, but the teacher's gaze shuts them up almost immediately.

"As long as you are here, your houses will be like your families." She continues. "Your triumphs will earn you points, and if you break any rules, those points will be taken away."

She says, casting a disapproving glance at one of the students in the corner, who giggled. "In a few moments we will begin the sorting hat ceremony."

The teacher then turns around, heading toward a large bronze door, and talking to someone on the other side. You hear someone laughing near you, and you turn your head to the side in curiosity.

It was a blond boy, and he seemed to be enjoying himself as he balanced one of the gold cups he picked up from the surrounding shelves. You thought he would be in trouble if he knocked it over, and this seemed to be exactly the same opinion as the girl next to him, who was looking at him disapprovingly.

"Stop being an idiot, Peter, put that back." She complained and he laughed, shrugging.

"Gamora, you're a spoilsport you know." He retorted and when he put the cup back, it spun and fell to the floor, breaking into several pieces. The boy turned pale as Teacher Okoye turned her head in his direction.

You rolled your eyes, walking over to them.

"Reparo" You said drawing your wand as you pointed at the broken object. Some children let out impressed exclamations when they saw the bowl form again, but you just put your wand away in shame. It was no big deal. Okoye caught up with the three of you next, looking reproachfully at the boy.

"I expect better behavior during the ceremony, sir..."

"Quill"

"Mister Quill." She completed and took one last look at the boy that had with his head down before turning back to the front of the crowd again, waving for the students to follow her.

"Hey, that was pretty cool." Peter commented beside you as you walked. You shrugged, focusing on the path.

//-//

The sorting hat was something exceptional.

Tony never told you how the choice was made, and you knew it was only to annoy you. He had sometimes joked that the students faced each other in a duel, and even though you told him to shut up, you had a look at his spell book before you came.

The actual ceremony was much simpler, however.

When it was your turn to climb onto the small stool, you bit your lips, hoping that everything would go smoothly. Just as the old cloth of the hat fell over your eyes, blocking your view of the rest of the hall, you heard a voice in your head.

" Hello, dear, no need to be so nervous." Announced the hat gently. "You are a curious little thing, I see."

"Is that a good thing?" You thought, and the hat chuckled lightly.

"It might be." He said mysteriously. "Interesting what I see here. Very interesting."

"What are you seeing?"

"Your memories, dear."

"Oh." You thought, feeling slightly embarrassed. That seemed like an intrusion of your privacy. The hat laughed again, and you remembered that he was on your head.

"You're hard to sort out." He says, and you squeeze the stool. "Don't worry, I'm not going to send you home, that's not how it works."

"Oh, right."

Hat was silent a few moments.

"I see courage in your heart." He says and you try to remember the characteristics of the houses. "But that courage is well forged with your loyalty."

You swallow dryly, feeling your anxiety rising. This was definitely taking much longer than the people who went before you.

"You are as smart as your father and brother, both members of the Slytherin house." He says. "There's a willingness not to let them down."

"That's personal." You grumble feeling your cheeks flush, but the hat doesn't care to apologize for bringing up your insecurities.

"Ah, this is interesting here. A pure kindness, yet pruned in your origins of shallow paternal affection”.

You frown, not understanding what he is saying.

"You are quite adaptable child, it has always been one of your best virtues." The hat remarks, and you get the impression that the next part is only said for you. "Tell me, where would you like to stay?"

"Isn't that your job?" You retort in thought, and hear him laugh again. You rush to correct yourself, not wanting to be rude. "Sorry, hat. I don't really know. I'd like to stay where I fit in best."

"You would do well anywhere." He retorts, and you frown. "And that's pretty impressive, you know. I haven't met another hatstall since the last century."

You swallow dryly, not knowing if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I'll work hard, sir." You tell him. "I don't want people to think I'm a special witch just because of my family. That's something I'm sure, I don't know if it helps you choose."

Hat lets out a sigh of relief.

"Actually, that's exactly what I needed."

It takes a moment for him to speak again, and when he does, you feel your whole body shake.

"Hufflepuff"

//-//

Steve Rogers is the head boy of Hufflepuff and he celebrates excitedly when you sit down at the table next to him.

"That's so cool" He comments. "I'll be able to tease Tony all year about it."

After that, director Agatha Harkness, made the announcement of the beginning of the year. If her goal was to scare the students, she succeeded when she talked about the deadly dangers surrounding the forbidden forest and the punishments for the disobedient. Professor Strange interrupted her speech as he cleared his throat, awkwardly waving for Agatha to stop saying such things, and the woman giggled.

Dinner is delicious, and then you are following the crowd of students into the communal rooms.

"Butterbeer" Steve said to the portrait on the wall, and you blinked in surprise when the painting moved to the side, a door behind.

You sighed when you realized how cozy the Hufflepuff's common room was.

"Everyone please come in." Asked Steve in the center of the room, waving to the students who stayed behind. When everyone was around him, he smiled. "The dorms are divided by gender, but you can sleep wherever you feel most comfortable. I will only suggest that none of you try to sleep with the seventh graders, because they are scary." Steve joked making the crowd laugh lightly. "We have a supply of food in those lockers, just in case you feel like having a snack in the early morning, outside of the permitted hours for walking around the castle." He continues and stands thoughtfully for a few moments. "Most of the things you need to know are on the bulletin board on that wall, and you can also ask me anything you want. Your belongings have already been taken to the free beds, but if you want any help, you can organize among yourselves or just come talk to me."

Steve smiled as the crowd moved. You headed in the direction where he said the rooms were.

//-//

You let out a surprised exclamation as something landed on your head.

"Damn, sorry!" Asked an asian girl approaching you, and pulling the small being out of your hair as you entered the room. "Groot, I told you to behave yourself."

"I am groot." Grumbled the little creature. You looked at it wide-eyed, impressed.

"Wow, is that a tree?"

The girl laughed, putting the small creature sitting on her shoulder, sitting on the bed next to the one you identified as having your things.

"Yes and no." She said. "I found Groot in my garden over the vacations, and well, I don't know what he is exactly. But I think he was trying to make my mother's plants grow."

"He's really cute." You commented approaching with your finger extended. Groot smiled, accepting your touch.

"I am Mantis." Says the girl next and you smile at her as you introduce yourself. "We're going to be roommates."

"Yes, and so is Groot." You add as you take off your cape to throw on the bed that would be yours.

After eating so well at dinner, it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep.

You dream of glowing green eyes and a red light, but you don't recognize them or understand what it means, and when you wake up, you no longer remember.

//-//

Two weeks since you started at Hogwarts, you are used to how eccentric everything can be.

The classes weren't as difficult as you imagined, but that's probably because you've had contact with magic all your life and always had an easy time learning things. All the teachers were unique in their own way.

Professor Rocket, for example, taught Transfiguration and spent almost the entire period transfigured into a raccoon, even outside of class hours. He was temperamental and got irritated very easily when students talked too much in his class, so it was not recommended to do so.

There was also Professor Fury, who had an eye patch as a mandatory piece in his daily costume, and all the students spent more time trying to guess how this happened, than listening to his explanations of defense spells against the dark art.

Your astronomy class on Wednesdays was taught by Professor Odin, who like to claim that he was a descendant of the Olympian gods, but no one believed him. He was also the father of two of your classmates, Thor and Loki Odinson, who were the exact opposite of each other. While Thor was warm and friendly, Loki was cold and reclusive, plus the former was from Gryffindor and the other from Slytherin. Surprisingly, you liked them both.

You ended up meeting the head of your house only on the second day.

Professor Heimdall taught Divination, so you wouldn't have any classes with him until the third year.You bumped into him when you were late for fifth period and had to run to the common room for your Potions books, and almost fell on the floor when you turned the corner without looking and the professor was there. He prevented you from falling with a wave of his wand, smiling gently.

" Forgive me." You said clumsily, feeling slightly intimidated by the yellow irises as the magic set you on your feet properly, as well as catching your books in the air and placing them in your hands again.

"Be careful with the castle corridors, Miss Stark." Said the man, and for some reason, you thought he wasn't just talking about this little incident.

"Professor Heimdall, let's talk in a private place, please." Asked Professor Okoye, who was standing at his side, she looked at you with a certain disapproval, and you couldn't tell whether it was because of your intrusion, or the fact that your tie was hanging loosely around your neck, in addition to the open buttons on your shirt.

After this little incident, you asked Steve who Professor Heimdall was, and he explained that he was the head of Hufflepuff, and might seem intimidating at first glance, but that he was very kind.

But so far, the professor who has intrigued you the most was Professor Erik Lehnsherr, who taught Potions. He didn't say anything that wasn't related to the subject, didn't make any comments about behavior or events at school. And he had such a stern and mysterious look in his eyes that no student had the courage to ask him anything. You heard Peter Quill make a bet with Thor Odinson that Professor Erik was unable to smile because of some particular sorcery, but you thought it best not to laugh, especially since Mr. Lehnsherr was looking at your direction.

When you had your first Potions period with Slytherin, after herbology professor T'Challa needed to reschedule classes for an appointment, you were surprised to discover that professor Lehnsherr had children.

Gamora ended up on the same bench as you, and she was talking to her sister, Nebula, about an incident that occurred in their dormitory.

"Clearly, the professors' children have an easy time getting away with punishment." Nebula bitterly remarked, and you frowned in confusion.

"I don't think it was the girl's fault." Gamora retorted as she put the ingredients into her cauldron. She looked at you quickly, realizing that you were listening to the conversation, but she didn't scold you, she just kept stirring the mixture.

"What happened?" you asked next, and Nebula looked at you with mild irritation. She seemed about to tell you to mind your own business, but Gamora smiled, moving closer to whisper to you.

"A girl lost her temper in the Slytherin dorm bathrooms last night." She told. "She's a second year, her name is Wanda Maximoff. She and her brother are Professor Lehnsherr's kids, and everyone is saying that she didn't go to detention because of it."

Your jaw dropped, impressed.

"I can't believe Magneto has children." You said making Gamora and Nebula laugh at the nickname. Last week you found out that the school had been calling Erik that since he stopped the hall chandelier from falling on the teachers' desk two years ago when he used non-verbal magic to attract the metal, and everyone started calling him that behind his back. Tony told you and you liked the story.

"I know right, he seems so self-contained." Gamora remarked looking back briefly. Professor Erik was focused on his own potions book.

"That noisy kid from Gryffindor said he's married." Nebula added next and Gamora laughed lightly.

"Peter Quill?"

"Yes."

"Wow, that's surprising." Says the girl. You both return to stirring your cauldrons in silence after that little conversation.

When you have finished your mixing, Professor Erik gives Hufflepuff five points for your good work, and you smile with red cheeks.

"You're nice." Nebula suddenly said beside you as you were leaving the room. Gamora stood next to her. "Do you want to walk around with us?"

"We're already walking." You joked and Gamora laughed unlike her sister who grimaced.

"Yep, definitely cool." She added. "Do you want to have lunch with us?"

"At your table or mine?"

Gamora and Nebula exchanged glances.

"I'm not sitting with Hufflepuff." Nebula declared and you sighed, rolling your eyes.

"You know I'm from Hufflepuff, right?"

"I'm reconsidering the invitation." She retorted and you frowned, but Gamora smiled at you.

"Will you sit with us, please?"

You sighed, nodding in agreement. You could talk to Tony after all.

//-//

Lunch at the Slytherin table became an everyday thing after that day. It took two weeks for Mantis to start joining you, and then you realized that you had a small group of friends now.

At Christmas, neither you nor Tony came home, because your father was working and you didn't want to be alone in the Stark mansion. You ended up turning down Tony's invitation to spend Christmas with Steve Rogers and his family, because you weren't really friends with Steve. Tony insisted, not wanting you to be alone, but you assured him that you would be fine in the company of your friends, and that he needn't worry.

On Christmas morning, Groot woke you up by jumping on your face. You laughed lightly because he was so small that he was like a tickle, and stood up as you returned the little creature to Mantis' bedside table.

A few hours later, as you were opening your presents at the Slytherin table along with Gamora, Nebula, Mantis, and Peter Quill, who had also stayed at Hogwarts for the end of the year, you let out an excited exclamation.

"I can' believe it." You spoke, opening the package in front of you. It was a large box, it was bewitched and only revealed the actual wrapping once you tore the paper off. It was actually a broom.

"Wow, that's cool." Peter remarked as he looked at your present.

That's how you ended up in the middle of the snow, testing your new broom while your friends cheered and celebrated below you.

"Are you sure you can fly?" You asked Peter as soon as he asked you if he could ride. He shrugged, smiling.

You and the girls watched as he controlled the broom for a few feet above the ground, and then he overspeeded it and sped away.

You all ran into his direction, while the broom seemed almost annoyed at his lack of control, and knocked him into a tree. Peter fell between the branches, onto someone who was resting under it.

When you all reached him, you frowned when there was a boy pushing Quill.

"Watch it, dude!" Warned the boy, but before you could say anything, Gamora was already stepping forward, wand in hand.

"It was just an accident." She said and the boy looked at her surprised with her wand outstretched. He crossed his arms however, not looking scared.

"Oh, you're going to spell me now, are you?" He teased.

"Piss off, Maximoff." Warned Nebula next, taking a step beside her sister. So this was Pietro Maximoff. You figured that confidence should come from being the son of one of the professors.

"I suggest you leave my brother alone." Warned a voice behind you. You turned next, only to catch sight of a girl with brown hair, green eyes that glittered with anger.

Gamora clenched her jaw, and Nebula drew her own wand toward the girl, who also had her wand in her hands.

You sighed, raising your hands as you stood in the line of fire.

"Would everyone please calm down?" You asked. "It was just a misunderstanding, and the broom is mine anyway, no need to fight about it."

It takes a moment, but Gamora puts down her wand, and everyone follows her after that. She has an insinuating smile on her face.

"You really are a Hufflepuff, aren't you Stark?" She teases, and you laugh sheepishly, putting your hands in your pockets. "Come on Quill."

Gamora warns and the boy shoots Pietro an ugly look as he leaves. You accept your broom that he hands to you, and turn around, your gaze meeting that of the girl who is supposed to be Wanda Maximoff for a moment. You feel your face heat up at the intensity of the angry look, and you look away, following your friends.

//-//

The months went by quickly as the rest of the school year passed. You managed to do very well on the exams, and didn't get involved in any near-fights again.

When the year ended and the Hufflepuff didn't win the House Cup, you thought you should have been more upset, but you didn't mind having Gamora and Nebula celebrating beside you, laughing and hugging you excitedly.

You also didn't understand why you felt your stomach turn when you caught Wanda Maximoff smiling amidst the Slytherin celebration when you looked around.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wandaxreader #wandaxyou #wandaxyn #wanda maximoff x yn #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy #marvel imagines #harry potter au #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x fem!reader

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vidalinav · 4 years ago

Text

But like everyday Nessian... guys Everyday!Nessian.

Making out in the living room just because they can and they have no place to be and they have two years of kisses and sex to make up for.

Putting puzzles together, the ones with 1000+ pieces, because Nesta used to do them with Amren and they entertained her at the time. But turns out Cassian and Nesta are not patient people, and they get so frustrated that they contemplate murder as they yell at each other because they can’t find one piece. “I swear you had it!” “They all look the fucking same Nesta! All of them are blue!” But still putting it together, because they’re equally stubborn as they are impatient.

Nesta increasingly trying to make Cassian eat junk food and sweets. Cassian trying very hard to trick Nesta into eating vegetables. Neither of them are successful.

Decorating for the holidays, because Cassian insists that if there’s a holiday, they’re going to celebrate it, and so they end up celebrating the most obscure days that Nesta’s ever seen. TheHOW is always happy to accomodate, but Cassian insists on decorating himself and he annoys Nesta until she agrees to do it with him.

Cassian annoying Nesta, making her mad just because he wants to see that look on her face he loves so much. That angry one and she doesn’t make it as often anymore so he’s got to try harder, and Nesta just getting increasingly more annoyed until she just says “You know I always thought I’d be that women who marries rich and then murders her husband...” and then looks him dead in the eyes and says, “There’s still time.”

Baths... must I say more.

Both of them yelling at each other because Cassian tripped on a pile of books Nesta didn’t put away and stubbed his toe and Nesta cut herself on a knife he didn’t away properly even though he’s always telling her to take care of her weapons.

The two of them cooking together, but Nesta definitely cannot cook and so she ends up just sitting on the counter eating what he makes. She’s very happy with this arrangement and Cassian just rolls his eyes smiling fondly.

Finding Nesta in several reading positions that seem illogical and uncomfortable to Cassian and every time he comes back out, she’s in another position and he’s just there scratching his head like “I’m sure she cannot be reading like that.”

Rainy days where they stay in bed for hours. Cold days where they wrap each other in blankets and Nesta wears Cassian’s sweaters even if they’re practically tents to her. Soup, caldo, broth. Anything warm. Hot coco, coffee.

Warm sunny days where they open up the windows and let the breeze in and Nesta’s symphonia and later her own music, because she learns to play the piano (f*** canon), drifts through the streets of Velaris.

Everyday!Nessian guys... everyday Nessian is the best nessian every day.

Feel free to add your own.

*** Y’all sent me a lot of prompts for quick fanfics, and woah overwhelming. Thank you lots and I will try to choose one, but wow so many choices. If y’all want, send me topics for headcanons too!

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian headcanon #nessian hc #post acosf

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dilexit · 3 years ago

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Chapter 6: Ouch! That Hit me Right in the Feelings

Previous chapter | Master List | Next Chapter

✎ Wilbur x GN!Reader

✎ Word count: 1.7K

✎ Summary: Y/n and Wilbur learn two important lessons 1) Sand makes for some shitty bedding 2) Feelings are annoying as hell

✎ Warnings: Just some swearing and talk of a fire (Campfire), oh and for clarification the short film Y/n is filming isn't for their application for NYU but for NYU's film school because that is their deciding factor for if they go there or not

✎ Nothing much else to say except please don't ever take the summaries before each of the bucket list chapters very seriously because they are just kinda a joke. Also if anyone noticed I've changed from a DSMP/MCYT only blog into a multifandom blog because my hyperfixations change and while I still plan on writing for MCYT's I also have a new series planned for a different fandom just to try new things

……Friday After School……

“Dad, can you come to the beach with us and help us set up?” Wilbur asked while the two were packing as Phil had no faith in Wil packing enough for himself.

“No you gotta learn how to do it yourself son,” Phil said ruffling Wil’s hair while reaching for the plastic utensils from the counter behind him packing them into the bag. Philza was a big adventure person so Y/n and Wilbur were relying on him to make sure they were ok. Their local beach was a nice place for teens to hang out on during the summer but was less active during the school year. It was the perfect time for a ‘spontaneous’ camping trip.

“Alright fine I’ll get Techno to help me,” Wilbur responded but before either of the two even saw him, Techno muttered a no before walking out of the kitchen where the two were packing up the bags. Wil had just finished packing up his sleeping bag while his dad grabbed the tent from the basement.

“You ready to help me make the best short film that the Kanbar Institute of Film and Television has ever seen,” Y/n said, dropping their bags onto the kitchen table holding up their camera to capture Wilbur’s packing.

“Lovely to see you too Y/n,” Wilbur laughs as he looks up at their face, “Oh and hello people of the world,” He waved to the camera and Y/n giggled a bit.

“Are you almost done packing?” Y/n asked and Wil nodded

“Yeah Dad’s just grabbing the tent from the basement,” and as if on cue Phil had walked into the kitchen with a larger green bag in his hands.

“Hello there Y/n, make sure Wil doesn’t do anything stupid for me, yeah?” He asked handing the bag off to Wilbur who was putting it onto his back so that he could load it into the car.

“You know I always do,” Y/n saluted Phil as they walked out the door loading their bags into the car's trunk and backseat. Their car ride went by in a breeze and as did most of the night. They had set up camp around the far left of the beach to the spot they loved. Where their family would spend 4th of July’s and other obscure holidays. They were sitting in folding sports chairs roasting marshmallows and talking to the camera on a tripod that Y/n had set up earlier for some time lapse shots. The two were making smores and while Y/n was trying their best for golden brown Wilbur had given up a long time ago opting to lett his catch on fire.

“No because like I’m pretty sure I could take micropachycephalosaurus in a fight,” Y/n laughed as they were reaching for the box of graham crackers, “Ok here's my reasoning, A) the micropachycephalosaurus was a herbivore so I wouldn’t have to worry about it eating me and B) those things weren’t even four feet tall I could literally step on it.”

“Y/n, Darling, I’m so sure that if we were to run into a dinosaur no matter how short it is or how dumb it’s name is, we would both freak out and run away, we aren’t that brave.” Wilbur responded in a saccharine sweet voice to cover up the minor insult. Y/n giggled and tossed a piece of chocolate at him. He quickly ducked out of the way and the chocolate landed in the sand.

“You know this reminds me of our first bucket list item,” Y/n laughed before biting into their smore, not knowing if the sweetness came from the marshmallow or the boy sitting across from them.

“Oh yeah, smores on your stove top, I remember that. Seems like a lifetime ago doesn't it?” Wil asked and Y/n laughed softly nodding their head. “Feels so tame compared to the things we are going to have to do,”

“Is it weird that in a few days it’s gonna be over?” Y/n questioned

“What do you mean love?”

“This whole crazy adventure will end after three more tasks, one of them that feels nearly impossible. Then we are just finished, it’s like we have nothing tying us together anymore. What happens to us after we finish this list, what happens to our friendship,” even though Y/n had phrased it as a question Wil knew they didn’t actually want an answer. What Wil couldn’t understand was the pain he felt when Y/n had called him a friend, why did that word hurt him he knew he would always want to be their friend. He reckoned his silence was going on for too long when Y/n started talking again. “Sorry that got all sad I guess being this happy only makes you stop and think about what happens next,”

“Well then don’t think about the next, we are here right now and we are about to have the worst nights sleep ever so own it,” And just like that Wilbur knew just what to say to ease the tension and fill up the night with endless giggles.

……Saturday 5 pm…….

Wilbur had gotten home from the library with Sally about an hour ago and he and Y/n had already planned to call each other to continue planning their last week of adventures. As per usual Wil was sat on the floor at his desk with a picture of the list pulled up on his phone and other papers scattered around him. Techno was seated on his bed typing something onto his computer trying to drown out the loud teens.

“Ok so my next thing is that doing three things this week isn’t crazy but logically I can’t finish editing a short film in less then a day. What were we thinking because in order to finish this film we needed to complete number 17, right?” Y/n said referring to number 18 of the list: Finish Y/n’s short film

“Well, and I’m not asking you this to be mean I’m asking because I know you but, have you started editing your short film at all. You don’t need everything filmed to at least start working on it,” Wil asked, knowing Y/n probably hadn’t even finished uploading the old videos from their camera to their computer.

“Shit, you’re totally right I’ll start in a sec but one more question. How do I finish this short film before you turn 18 because if it’s not done then we technically didn’t complete the bucket list before we turned 18, and it’s not like I have the whole day before to edit with prom and everything?” Y/n asked, feeling a little upset at the idea of getting so close but failing.

“You’re right that’s a little more complicated,” Wil said before the two sat in silence thinking of an idea before Wilbur’s face lit up. “Here’s an idea: what if you bring your computer stuff to prom and just leave it in your date's car. When we go to- When we complete number 17 we can transfer the stuff into my car,” Wilbur huffed, thankful he didn’t accidentally let their plan slip. While Wilbur wasn’t one for holding a grudge it was always a better feeling to prove your twin brother wrong then anyone else.

“You know that’s actually not a horrible idea. I have a power source to plug my laptop into and I don’t need that much equipment to edit. Wilbur, you are a genius!” Y/n shouted excitedly, they both heard Techno snort a bit when Y/n had called him a genius but besides Wil sticking his tongue out at him, they had chosen to ignore him. “Oh also speaking of dates we both don’t have one yet, and especially now with this plan it could be easier if we go together. You know as friends of course!” Y/n’s stomach had swarmed with butterflies asking this question. They had wanted Wil to ask them to prom before but now was a better time than ever, especially with the added excuse that it was because of the bucket list. Wil’s face turned red as he scratched the back of his neck and even Techno could be seen in frame of Wilbur’s webcam awaiting his answer out of interest.

“So about prom dates, well actually earlier today Sally and I were talking and she had said she hadn’t got a date then I had said I didn’t have a date and well, she asked me if I wanted to go with her. And I said yes because I didn’t think it would matter much. I’m so sorry if I would have known you were going to ask me I wouldn’t have told her I would go with her,” Y/n was sure that WIlbur would have kept rambling if they hadn’t cut him off. While they felt their heart breaking they didn’t have it in their heart to be mad at him. Wilbur wasn’t being a dick on purpose he was just being an oblivious idiot that Y/n had come to love.

“Don’t worry about,” They said giggling a bit and his antics, “Please, it makes number 17 even better if we have dates to prom. Well if atleast one of us has a date, just promise me you’ll still hang out with me,” Wilbur nodded his head that's when Techno joined the conversation from behind Wilbur

“You know I wasn’t planning on going to prom but Dad made me buy a ticket just in case. I’ll take you,” Techno said from behind Wil causing both of the teens on call to be a little shocked. Techno hated school functions, they just weren’t his thing. But Techno loved Y/n as his own sibling and would hate to see them upset during such an important day for them.

“Wait really,” Y/n couldn’t believe it as this was out of character for the boy. Y/n knew he was an amazing human but he just wasn’t the kind to go to prom so that fact that he even got one was crazy.

“Yeah, as long as I can get the car I’m in, I’ll take you to prom,”

Tags: @daninotfound-alt @chlorofume @reverse-iak @kiritokunuwu @boiled-onionrings @momo-has-a-gun @boyleanti @luluwinchester @sad-t-an @angelicaschuyler-church @victoria-a567 @veratiserum-amore @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy @liawhite3 @wtfwriter @moonscastella

#mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #sbi x reader #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x y/n #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #sbi x y/n

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thestormfall · 3 years ago

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Heyooo! Happy holidays!!! This is part of LOSH holiday gift exchange and is for @spandexinspace!!! I had to go with querllyle, of course. I hope I did them some justice~~

Back Where we Belong

He remembered the flames flickering in his field of vision, the sounds of the outpost breaking, screens shattering and the shouts piercing through his ears. His own voice, panicked, looking for those that hadn’t made it to the vent.

Most of all, he remembered Brainy - feet still planted firmly on the ground, shield up, protecting the rest of them from the fire. But he didn’t know what expression Brainy held as the almost-blinding explosion went off.

He just knew that the flames never came close enough to the vent and that Brainy’s back was the last thing he saw.

xxxxx

Calling it Legion World, in Lyle’s opinion, made it sound more like an attraction than a base. Rumours had it that there were, in fact, plans to welcome tourists aboard at some point. The Legion had many fans, after all. A man as resourceful as Brande wouldn't miss out on this opportunity. Lyle didn't mind the idea; he wasn't one of the more marketable Legionnaires anyway and honestly he would prefer to keep it like that. Not because it would be more difficult for him to do his job - his espionage tactics relied on him not being seen at all, of course - but he wasn't a fan of being in the media spotlight as some of the others did.

"As long as it doesn't interrupt our work, I'm indifferent to it," Brainy said, after Lyle asked for his opinion. The places they both most frequented, such as the more advanced labs, wouldn't be open to the public.

It was as much as Lyle expected. If his work were to be interrupted, he was sure that Brainy would kick up more of a fuss about it. He might be a bit more accommodating than when Lyle first met him but he still had bite when it came to making sure that only competent people were present in the labs.

While Lyle had never needed Brainy's approval to work in the same vicinity - he had earned his own place there, thank you very much - it did feel good to know that he was actively wanted there. Some might argue that it was simply that Brainy didn't mind anymore but Lyle knew better. There was a difference between Brainy working around you, maneuvering past you as if you were just another object that happened to be in his path, and actually making eye contact and asking for your opinion. "You don't think it will impact efficiency, do you Lyle?"

"It shouldn't. You know, unless one of your rabid fans manages to sneak in here." Lyle gave a sweeping gesture, towards the lab's benches and screens. "You know how they can be."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Brainy, turning back to his current project. Before his face was obscured, Lyle could swear that he saw Brainy's lips curl up for a fraction of a second. "I don't have 'rabid' fans."

"What, you didn't see the interviews?"

"No and I'm not interested in watching them." Wait for it…"Although I have had extracts of what they've said quoted to me. I don't think calling me a genius is an indicator of being a 'rabid' fan. It's factual."

The casual confidence used to be a source of exasperation for Lyle but instead, somewhere along the line it turned into something endearing. Grife, he really had missed Brainy, hadn't he?

"Ah," said Brainy, stopping his tinkering all of a sudden. "Might want to step back Lyle."

"Step back - ?"

There was a loud bang and flames erupted from the contraption Brainy had been trying to reconfigure. There was no delay with Brainy's shield coming up, so the Coluan stood there unphased, head tilted to the side.

Lyle could tell that Brainy was muttering to himself but he couldn't hear it.

His ears were ringing. And the fire, the fire was all around him once again. Licking at Brainy's feet, wrapping its tendrils around them and pulling him in, right into the bright light. Out of Lyle's reach, out of reach from the barred up vent, its walls closing in -

"Lyle!"

He blinked. There was a weight on both his shoulders...Brainy's hands were on them. He felt pressure on his knees too. When had Lyle gotten to the ground?

"Lyle?"

"Oh...you're still here." He regretted saying the words almost immediately after they left his mouth.

Brainy had looked mildly concerned before but now his expression grew more grim. His eyes searched at Lyle's own, like he was probing him. He could tell that Brainy had immediately jumped into problem-finding mode.

"No, I mean I know you're here, Brainy," Lyle said, trying to course correct. "I know that you're back. Just...hard to believe sometimes."

And it was. Especially when not everyone had made it back. Not Candi, not Garth, not Jan.

Brainy had made it though. Lyle had to focus on the real sensation of the hands on his shoulders. He had done the same thing when Brainy first returned.

Lyle was glad for it. He didn't know when Brainy became more comfortable with physical contact but each time he did it came both as a surprise and a comfort.

"It would be best if you got used to believing it soon," said Brainy. "Evidently, the Legion can't function to full capacity without me, so I won't be going anywhere again soon." He smiled. "I'll leave the disappearing acts to you, Norg."

Letting out a breath, Lyle leaned forward until his forehead touched Brainy's own. He closed his eyes. Yes, this felt real, indeed. It would take a bit of time for those old nightmares to completely dissipate but he has a feeling he would get there.

"True. I'm sure I'll need it to dodge your fans. They wouldn't be happy if they saw us like this."

He felt Brainy stiffen and the Coluan drew back, cheeks flushed a darker green. "Ahem. Seems like you are well enough." He helped Lyle up, though he quickly averted his eyes and turned his attention to the partially damaged workspace. "As that is the case, I'd appreciate it if you could help me with this."

Lyle stared at Brainy's back for a moment before stepping forward to stand beside him.

"Sure thing. Now let's see what you blew up this time..."

#brainylyle #querllyle #brainiac 5 #lyle norg #legion of super-heroes #losh #thestormfall #fanfic #ii know this was supposed to go up yesterday but I had guests over so HERE IT IS #hope you like it too~

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heartofaspen · 4 years ago

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acne scars and cowboy boots: chapter seven

In which Tubbo begins to believe in Ranboo a little more.

first / ao3

A couple years ago, Tubbo remembers, he had been given a pair of fingerless gloves. For some obscure holiday, a forgotten birthday, an anniversary or something- the occasion for the gift is lost to time.

Tubbo remembers the shiny black leather being pressed into his hands, accompanied by a hand tousling his permanently-messy hair, and of course, how could he forget how much his cheeks burned from the grin that split his face? Holding those gloves in his fourteen-year-old hands, freckled face shining in excitement, Tubbo couldn’t think how he could possibly be happier.

But alas, when he slipped on the gloves, the rubbery fabric itched and chafed against his thumbs, restricted his movements- the second he left Schlatt’s sight (the giver of the gloves), Tubbo had yanked them off and shoved them into his closet, never to be worn again.

And now, as he pulls the new boy by the arm out of Karl’s messy studio, Tubbo can’t help but think of those gloves again. Technoblade. A sleek, dangerous name that required respect from the roughest of men, scratchy and ill-fitting compared to the polite, gentle-hearted cowboy who apparently bore it. Stiff gloves against too-soft hands

Tubbo frowns thoughtfully as he hops down the steps, the other boy still in tow.

“Ah…” the tall boy says, stumbling after Tubbo. “What was it that you needed? You never- really specified.”

Never letting go of the other’s arm, Tubbo keeps walking. “You know,” he finally speaks up, ignoring the question for the most part, “I don’t think the name Technoblade really suits you.” Tubbo swears he sees a flicker of fear pass through the tall boy’s eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by an awkward smile.

“Why’s that?”

“Dunno,” Tubbo hums, letting go of the boy’s arm. “You’re too…”

“Cool?” he supplies, cracking a grin.

“Well, I was gonna say soft, but sure.”

“Soft?”

“Yeah, soft,” Tubbo agrees, nodding. “Y’know what, I think I’m just gonna keep calling you cookies an’ cream. Cookies for short.”

“I’ve had worse nicknames.”

“Consider yourself lucky, then,” Tubbo grins. “But anyways, cookies, I’d say you’ve got most everyone wrapped around your little finger since yesterday. Even Tommy, which is saying something. But I say you’ve still got stuff to prove if you wanna impress me,” he continues. “And I need help fixing up my wagon. You handy with tools, stranger?”

The newly-named Cookies and Cream smiles. “Sure.”

————————————————-

By the end of the day, despite the hours of work and conversation with Tubbo, Ranboo isn’t tired in the slightest. In contrast to the usually-draining social interactions with others, Ranboo seems to find that interacting with Tubbo does the exact opposite- a lingering effect that leaves him humming under his breath with a faint smile hours after seeing the boy.

He can’t quite place what it is.

Now, as the stars slowly flicker into awakeness in the sky above, Ranboo lays on the roof of Wilbur’s inn, hands folded behind his head. In peering around the cozy little hotel, he had found an unlocked stairway that lead to the roof, and, well- the view, and the space to himself were too much to pass up. On such a clear night, Ranboo swears he can almost see the very craters carved into the milky surface of the moon.

“Oh- hey.”

Startling softly, Ranboo pulls his gaze away from the sky to see Tubbo, halfway out the trapdoor to the roof, eyes wide, clearly not having expected to see Ranboo there.

“…Hey.” Ranboo can only think to say.

“You found my spot.”

“It’s yours?” Ranboo asks, sitting up. Tubbo pulls himself onto the roof. “Sorta,” he says, gently shutting the trapdoor behind him. “Wilbur used to keep it locked cause Tommy nearly fell off one time, and if you asked Wil, he’d say no one’s supposed to come up here, but I know that he knows I hang out here. So yeah. I’d say it’s mine. You can chill here too, though.”

“That’s nice of you,” Ranboo offers a smile.

Tubbo hums noncommittally, fishing around in his pocket before triumphantly pulling out a small package, wrapped in a soft, white and red checkered cloth. He carefully picks apart the knot that holds the fabric together, and the cloth falls away to reveal two steaming tarts with golden brown crust, dripping with raspberry jam. Ranboo’s sure his pupils almost dialite at the sight of the delicious-looking baked goods.

“Here,” Tubbo says, picking up one tart by the corner and handing it to Ranboo, who accepts it gratefully. “I was gonna save them both for myself, but you’re not living if you haven’t tried Niki’s baking.”

“I appreciate it,” Ranboo says, already sinking into his teeth into the dessert, humming happily. Tha flavor explodes in his mouth in a symphony of sweetness. Tubbo nods in response, nibbling the crust of his own tart. The two boys sit there in comfortable quiet, eating their tarts and looking up into the twilight sky.

“So how d’you like it here?” Tubbo says, speaking up after a long moment.

Ranboo smiles to himself, licking the jam off of his fingers. “I really like it. It’s… nice. And everyone seems to know each other really well.”

Tubbo nods thoughtfully. “It is nice.” Another moment of silence. “Though if I were you, I would’ve run by now.”

Faint alarm passing across his face, Ranboo glances at Tubbo. “What do you mean?”

The horned boy regards him with muted confusion, before speaking slowly. “You know,” he says. “After your brush with Sapnap?”

“I’m… not really understanding.”

Rolling his eyes lightheartedly, Tubbo props his elbows up on his knees. “Christ, I knew you had a lot of enemies, but surely not so many that you forget them. You know, Sapnap? Who’s best friends with your greatest rival and the supposed best bounty hunter of all time, Dream?”

“Oh,” Ranboo says softly. That does make sense. His stomach twists uncomfortably.

“Word travels fast in the desert, Cookies,” Tubbo shrugs. “Dream probably already knows about it, and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on his way now, with both Sapnap and George. So I’d get out of here while you still can.”

Looking at Tubbo’s face, Ranboo can see that the boy is offering him a decision. An important one, at that. He turns his gaze away, back to the endless void above them.

To leave this town of kind, toughened folk at the mercy of Dream- Ranboo knows nothing good would come of it. He’d come into contact with the hunter once or twice, and the best word he could use to describe the chilling man was… empty. Looking at that blank mask, chills skittered up one’s spine, cold air froze the lungs.

It was easy to tell, just with one glance- that something wasn’t completely right, completely human about Dream. Not inhuman in the way of the black and white that smatters Ranboo’s skin, or the little horns poking out of Tubbo’s hair, or even Technoblade’s worn tusks, but in the way of burning villages, and blood, and no mercy. Cold and bruises and hurt.

He could leave, and abandon these people to Dream’s wrath- but the alternative option could potentially turn out worse. By staying here, under Technoblade��s name, Ranboo endangers the people simply by association. They might as well be dead either way. But wouldn’t it be better to stay and fail to protect them, than to leave them to die?

Ranboo looks out at the gently lit town. Candles flicker softly in yellowed windows, muted shadows moving through the amber light. A couple dances together by a kitchen, slow and loving. Ranboo recognizes the woman with sheep ears from the other day, and another pink-haired woman he hasn’t met yet. The kindness of it all nearly overwhelms him

“I’m not worried about him,” Ranboo lies through his teeth, voice steeped in fake confidence. He does not draw attention to the way his hands nearly shake at the mere thought of the terrifying man. “I’m staying put for now.”

And by the way Tubbo smiles at him, slight but genuine, Ranboo knows he’s made the right choice.

“You’re a funny one,” Tubbo says, though Ranboo doesn’t miss the soft edge of fondess in the boy’s voice. “Either incredibly stupid, or incredibly kind.” Tubbo stands, hands shoved into his pockets. “Maybe both.”

Ranboo can only look at him.

“I’ll see you around, Techno,” Tubbo says, and there’s that subtle smile again. Without another word, he folds up the checkered square of fabric, and climbs back down into the inn.

The soft desert wind caresses Ranboo’s cheek, his sole companion as Tubbo’s footsteps fade away.

#dream smp #ranboo #tubbo #all based on characters obv #dream smp fic #beeduo #beeduo fic #tw eating #b1rdzwriting

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clarktooncrossing · 1 year ago

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Giraffe's Eye View: Christmas Specials Special (2023) | From All Of Us to All Of You

On the thirteenth day of Christmas, my buddies gave to me...

Being a Disney fan today is hard. The parks have been ravaged, their films flop on arrival, their continued downplaying of animation is annoying, and don’t even get me started on how they handled this year’s Writer / Actor Strike. Not to say there’s no diamonds hidden in the rough every now and again, but for the most part the buzzards running the Mouse House believe in profits not pixie dust. Worse, they have forgotten the most crucial ingredient to any creative undertaking: risk. Go big or go home, make a splash or stay dry, spending money makes money. Perhaps no one knew this better than Walt Disney himself. The man mortgaged his home to finance Snow White, nearly drove his company to bankruptcy to build Disneyland, and embraced television when the rest of Hollywood cowered in fear of it. He understood that television could be a powerful marketing tool that could help his brand grow in the long haul. Ironic, innit? Uncle Walt became a beloved figure through the small screen, hosting the Disneyland series and making a brief appearance at the opening from From All Of Us to All Of You. Premiering in 1958, the seasonal special proved so popular that it airs along with a sampling of various shorts to this day in other countries. Including Sweden, home to the rambunctious robotroll SIM-N (Finjix), himself having fond memories of watching it with his family. Being a classic Disney fan myself, I was actually eager to see if the hype the malicious machine was peddling was valid.

A pity it’s not on Disney+! First the Star Wars Holiday special, then Snowed in at the House of Mouse, and now this!? You advertised everything would be on there, Bobby Boi. What gives!? Thankfully where you fail, the Internet succeeds! Let’s just say I found a copy well archived on a specific site. It also had One Hour in Wonderland, Walt’s original Holiday offering from 1950. Sadly it was nothing special, just the Magic Mirror from Snow White showing clips from several projects to Kathryn Beaumont, Bobby Driscoll, Edgar Burgen and his iconic puppet pals. Aside from Walt’s daughters Diane and Sharon making a brief cameo, this trip to Wonderland is only notable for how many times it promotes Coca Cola. Man, is anybody else thirsty for a Sunkist?

Let’s pop a cold one and we can check out From All Of Us together!

Walt, now the same size as Tinkerbell, welcomes us to the program. He wishes everyone at home a Merry Christmas before turning things over to the real musical Masters of Ceremony; Jiminy Cricket (Cliff Edwards) and Mickey Mouse. Together on piano the cartoon celebrities sing a rousing rendition of The Little Drummer Boy mixed with Peace on Earth! Or rather Jiminy just shows off his collection of Christmas cards. Each card cues up a segment from a beloved animated feature that’ll already has or will be unnecessarily rebooted in live-action. Which features depend on the version you're watching, this recreation including Bambi, Peter Pan, Cinderella, Pinocchio, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, along with two additional short films, Toy Tinkerers and Santa’s Workshop. The former features famous foul Donald Duck (Clarence Nash) comically dueling against Chip and Dale in toy warfare, the latter showing Santa prepping at the Pole for his annual sleigh ride. It also features an unfortunate bit of blackface, something I hope is cut from reruns. At least they didn’t show an entire segment from Song of the South like One Hour did. Remember folks, Disney’s most controversial film was once endorsed by Coca-Cola!

Overall, From All Of Us is decent blend of Holiday warmth and Disney magic, a warm cup of cocoa laced with a pleasant amount of pixie dust. However, I feel like it’s unnecessary in this modern age. Call me crazy, but why watch this clip show when I’ve seen these movies in their entirety via VHS, DVD, Blu-Ray, or streaming? For SIM-N, the answer is comforting nostalgia. While I might see it as regifted film scenes with barely any new material, SIM-N sees it as an excuse to get together with his family and watch the moments that made us realize magic was real. Knowing that makes this special a yuletide treasure in my book. Still, if you want some comforting Christmas capers centered around Mickey Mouse, I can do you one better. Or should I say three better?

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