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normal-thoughts-official · 3 years

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Do you think the polycule has any holiday traditions?

POLYCULE ASK! POLYCULE ASK! POLYCULE ASK! YESSSSSSSSSS

that's actually a pretty interesting question because the polycule is very culturally diverse. like of course we have simon who's jewish, but the rest is kind of in a weird place. i'm pretty sure shadowhunters don't have holidays at all, and since clary was raised by a shadowhunter and a former shadowhunter, i'm pretty sure she would have been raised without any either? like maybe she'd celebrate the gregorian new year because you know, they have to pretend to be mundane after all, but i think that and birthdays were probably pretty much it for her. oh and halloween i guess which is also not religious-affiliated, are there any other holidays in the states? i guess there's the 4th of july and thanksgiving but both celebrate imperialism/colonialism and i don't want to write about that so i'm gonna pretend there aren't. plus i doubt shadowhunters celebrated those either

so ok we have izzy and clary with no holidays, we don't know whether or not maia is culturally christian and i don't wanna just say "yes" by default... and then there's meliorn whose holidays and traditions will be typical to seelie culture, which are gonna be... unique to them obviously. we don't know how they are celebrated, how long they last, what is the milestone, how or even IF they count time - like maybe they go by when a specific flower blooms and that only happens every 10 gregorian years or some shit. so that's a question mark i guess

and there's also the fact that the seelie realm is very politically closed which. i like to think changes once they get rid of the old queen! but it's still a slow process to just allow other people there. then again izzy was a shadowhunter and she used to hop by so it's probably not a huge deal for meliorn to bring their partners and metamours to seelie celebrations? or at least to the ones that aren't Super Sacred or anything. so like parties and dances and stuff like that? yeah. which i guess brings me back to the other "meta" i wrote about seelie dances (link) and what it would be like for the rest of the polycule to participate in those and shit

then... well obviously there's the gregorian new year which we have obviously just gone through (well, we had when i started answering this ask. it's march now so rip. update it's april now. i'm so sorry anon) so like! i think it was always kind of hell for both raphael and maia, autistic icons, because of all the explosion sounds that just made them feel really upset and feel really stupid for it. with raphael i think it was more bearable when he had rosa because she would spend the day with him and hug him and let him squeeze the stress out you know dauhdasuihda also she was always the one he felt the most comfortable stimming in front of. and then after he lost her it only got worse because on top of the fireworks there was the clear absence of rosa that he just FELT everywhere. you know?

and with maia there's the added trouble of her being AMAB and what with being raised to "black men" standarts of masculinity (to be clear, as in: due to racism black men are expected to be even more macho than white men, ESPECIALLY by nonblack ppl; not as in wow black ppl are so backwards or whatever. white ppl invented gender norms anyway so lmao), she was definitely shamed a lot for being so distressed by the fireworks when she was little methinks. we love that combination of transphobia, racism and ableism! so it was just hard and filled with bad memories. and then once she ran away from home it got marginally better without the constant telling her to "man up" and shit like that, but it still came with the added memories you know

and also with them (plus simon) being vampires/werewolves the hearing gets even more sensitive so that's... fun. meliorn realizes it stresses them out and makes up a special kind of spell that muffles their hearing of background noise, so they can feel more comfortable and for the first time there is not that added stress that comes with the new years and it feels so nice?? they even try watching the fireworks but it's kinda like eh, not that great, especially because even looking at them brings out memories you know doahdsaoh so instead meliorn shows them some magic and it's so much prettier with all the glowing lights and stuff, you know?

maybe after that the polycule starts spending the new years in the seelie realm instead, that'd be cute, just like. enjoying that pretty place with all the lights and shit. i think they would all prepare some kind of light show some way or another like using magic and witchlights and whatnot. that'd be cute

as for other holidays! i think their holiday traditions would start with simon's first yom kippur after he was able to eat solid foods again (shut up a potion WILL be created and i don't accept any other option). before that, with simon being unable to eat, he was also obviously unable to fast. he wouldn't feed during yom kippur but it's not like vampires need to drink blood every day so it's not really the same thing. and it felt particularly lonely that, besides being away from his family and community, he also couldn't fast

i mean obviously simon isn't the only jewish vampire in the world, or jewish downworlder for that matter, so i'm sure he makes jewish friends he would at least get together and pray with for yom kippur, and that's what matters the most, really, but being unable to fast when he wants to and also not being able to participate in the break-fast meal just. sucks djdnudhsus

and then he's able to eat and he can do all that again! but it's also kind of emotionally charged for all of the vampires to fast for the first time when for so long they associated not eating with feeling unhuman, you feel? so like it kind of hits all of them hard

so the polycule decides to make him a little surprise and cooks the break-fast meal for them. clary probably knows what simon and his family used to eat after yom kippur so they try to recreate that for him? and maia and raphael are lowkey nervous about it because they had never made stuff like noodle kugel before and while they could at least try it (yay potion!) they have no idea if it's tasting like it should, ya know what i mean? and it's kind of sweet that they are so worried about making this the best possible experience for simon and the closest to home it can get. and simon is super emotional about getting to eat that stuff for the first time, as well as the other vampires, so you know. it's very emotional all around. but in a good way? and i think after that it kind of becomes a tradition that they make him the break-fast meal after yom kippur too

and then the next years they lowkey fuss over him for the last meal before the fast too, which i'm not sure is something simon would do with other people so they would go ham, dude, particularly raphael because he is a worrier first and foremost. so catch his ass all lovingly planning a meal he can make with zero (0) salt whatsoever so simon doesn't get too thirsty during the fast for MONTHS, planning so he gets the most amount of sustenance, lots of fiber, etc., and simon is like "you know i don't even have to eat, right?" but rapha is just all "you know food still matters" and simon doesn't say anything because it does. it matters a lot

and raphael is all sweetly nervous because like... it is a simple meal, that is the point, but he still wants simon to enjoy it and simon can't stop smiling through the whole thing. raphael and the others also eat it with him too in solidarity before simon goes to the synagogue with his community and it's like a sweet send off you know?

also this is not exactly a celebration or a tradition for that matter but since YK is the day of forgiveness i like to think that eventually simon asks for raphael's forgiveness on YK for the whole rosa thing, and although that isn't religious for raphael, raphael asking for his forgiveness for how everything went down, too. and it's just a sweet moment where they leave this whole story behind and look for a better future - i imagine this happening before they get together, so again, it doesn't really count as an answer to your question, but i just thought i'd include it because i find it sweet

then after that there is sukkot and i just really loove the idea of them helping him build the sukkah (for those who don't know, the sukkah is a hut covered with vegetation under the open sky, where jewish ppl live in for the duration of the sukkot). i know that they could just buy a certified one but where is the fun in that when we could have shenanigans? also i think that that would have been part of simon's personal/family traditions because i bet him and becca loved to build the sukkah for their family. so like on that spirit it is a little sad that they can't help each other with that anymore since simon can't be seen by the rest of his family, but of course as soon as he mentions it and how fun it used to be the whole polycule is Immediately On Board. let's help simon build his sukkah!

first of all other than simon none of them have ever built a sukkah before and simon usually followed becca's lead tbh, also he's just not great to Lead And Control people in general, and the polycule is already messy as all fuck. so it's a disaster, especially with raphael and simon's superspeed and strength thrown into the mix, and meliorn's almost impossible to hold back mischievous nature. izzy is lowkey responsible for keeping them in check and okay now that i think about it clary might have helped simon's family build it before, especially when she was a kid because kids just love that shit, but i don't know if she would remember the steps tbh (read: she wouldn't remember the steps) so yeah all in all the sukkah falls down more often than not and they might have to replace a few materials when simon and raphael accidentally snap their bamboo poles in half. rip

meliorn is probably all like "you are all weak and pathetic, i am a seelie, i can literally control living things. simon needs a vegetable covering? watch me get all the nearby trees to form a beautiful roof" and simon is like "actually the sechach cannot be alive" and meliorn slowly dies because they have no power over dead nature. also simon forbids magic usage in general because this needs to be an authentic building experience for him, so meliorn is left as the most useless one since they only have experience building these things using magic and the help of the trees or whatever

also i bet they would love to go EXTREMELY hard on the lights and decorations. i know that hassidic and to my understanding general orthodox jewish communities don't decorate the sukkah but i don't hc simon as part of those communities so i think he would want to decorate the sukkah. like even if it isn't fully covered in decorations, he would want what few he has to be well done, you know what i mean? like he would want to make the holiday posters himself (i dont know if it would be appropriate for clary to help make these but if it would, she totally would and i like the idea of simon giving her a very specific prompt to make the posters and clary doing it for him, you know? and maybe them all helping paint it with colorful themes), making decorations, and okay, at the very least fairy lightning? please? come on. it's another whole ass dramatic experience to get electricity in there so that's fun for sure, but i think meliorn and maia in particular would be all over the idea of making a pretty lightning system, and simon is definitely not gonna complain because he loves pretty things and the idea sounds rad. raphael smiles fondly through it all and basically saves the day by being the only one with organizational skills who is actually able to help them make a working plan for the sukkah

(catch these idiots making a blueprint. TRY and tell me they wouldn't)

(every year they make a new blueprint and the sukkah has different designs and proportions - always following the requirements like having four at least 32 inches tall walls, of course - and they start completely anew. the sechach must always be new but not the general structure, but they redo the structure anyway because again, it's fun)

and then of course they have meals together in the sukkah for the duration of sukkot and just idk i really dig the idea of the lot of them holding trays of food wearing oven mitts as they get inside and turn on the lights and it feels really nice and sweet you know? and then of course promptly turns kind of messy because it's their way but that's what they want. also, at least once a year they manage to sneak becca in for a meal with simon in the sukkah and they are just both so happy and aaaaa :')

and that's how "kidnapping" becca so she can see simon and his sukkah becomes another tradition lmao. they do it in the most dramatic full of flair way they possibly can while still not being found out and then promptly tell simon all about it in the most dramatic and exaggerated retelling during the meal, which always makes both simon and becca laugh (reality: becca just told her parents she would be off for a few hours to do some school thing or something and then they picked her up and she got a superspeed piggyback ride so she and simon wouldn't miss a minute. their story: "it all began with a carefully planted lie,")

there's also pesach which many (reform) jewish friends of mine have told me they like to do with goyim because the whole point of that holiday is to welcome strangers and share jewish history, so i think simon would like to do that as well. so yeah i think simon would enjoy having them with him during the Pesach Seder - again i think simon would want to be with his other jewish friends but it would be fun because they all could bring their pet goyim that they know would be respectful and nice to have around, run the Seder, and celebrate with them. also for their first one i think simon would have gotten excited about explaining the order/15 steps to them, so like cue lots of fond looks as simon tells them everything about it, how this is the first time he'll be able to have the feast, the four cups of wine, and how he's excited even to have the bitter herbs again. and then over the years they all become pretty much used to the 15 steps, they come naturally, they know what to expect, they already know the story of the Exodus after retelling it every year, and it's nice both when it's new and he gets to share and when it starts to be something in their element because it became their tradition and they want to be there with simon for the holidays, you know what i mean?

then there's purim!!!!!!!! god they would sure have so much fun on purim it gets me really excited to think about. purim might be the one that they get to participate the most in from what i've seen, and i have lots of thoughts about it, like:

first of all, making hamantaschen!! they each make a batch with a different stuffing and it's lowkey a competition and lowkey a surprise and as always with cooking together it is very fun and homey. and also kind of silly as they usually are, but purim is a holiday that is kind of supposed to be silly and for ppl to let go so it matches that mood, you know what i mean? like they're all covered in flour and "stop trying to LOOK at what i'm making!" and blind testing and stuff

then, food gifts! so from what i've seen it is preferable that the food gifts jewish ppl send each other on purim are sent by a third party, which is usually a kid, but they don't know many kids and i really like the idea of the polycule serving as simon's messengers for the day lmao. going everywhere round the shadow world and beyond ("hey mel since you can portal i have this friend in argentina-") and then bringing him the other gifts people send simon in return :)

dressing up in costumes! there is absolutely no way simon doesn't dress up for purim and the whole polycule is absolutely dragged into it, including an absolutely reluctant raphael. it quickly becomes a tradition tho that they change costumes every year and try to make them funnier and more outrageous (as you do) as time goes by. trust the polycule to turn pretty much everything into a competition. and simon always laughs with so much glee and joy when he gets to see what everyone dresses up as so really, how could they say no?

(maia "wins", like, every year. she is totally huge on costumes and her and simon are very attuned in that sense, so, you know. catch her dressing up as memes and just generally making the most creative costumes. she may or may not think them months and months ahead of time)

maybe they hold purim meals with particularly themed costumes every once in a while when they want to spice it up, but i think generally it's more of a freestyle thing

simon also loves reading the purim torah tbh, it's just fun. and then of course there's the megillah and booing when haman's name is mentioned. they are all banned from using graggers because half of them have superstrength and the other half doesn't technically have superstrength but is still super strong and they destroyed the poor thing on accident after the first ten seconds when they tried

food yay! and the very long meal. they usually get pretty drunk, tbh, at least the ones that can. and just generally i think it's one of their favorite celebrations to do together and more often than not ends in them all curled up together in the couch so u know, that's sweet uwu

and then of course rosh hashanah, which is the holiest joyous day in jewish tradition, so of course it's a huge deal for them all. and i just think they would all be super excited about making the evening (especially the meal ofc) the most incredible for simon it could possibly be. again i think simon would want to spend it with his downworlder jewish friends and community, and they probably have their own synagogue they go to together and everything, so obviously they are all involved in making preparations for rosh hashanah, but i like to think the polcyule and simon's friends' pet goyim would help with what they can as well (provided it's not something that should be done by a jewish person like baking the challah; but if not with cooking, they would at least want to help with stuff like decorations and the like. honestly i imagine all of simon's partners sitting together very seriously with a paper in front of them writing down all the stuff they can do to help with rosh hashanah preparations and everything. especially once they learn that like being happy/joyous is a mitzvah so they're just like "we want to make u as happy as possible then :)" and it's sweet and simon may or may not tear up a little)

and then we have other holidays that aren't associated with religion like halloween, which was kind of implied to be the official downworld holiday, so i'm pretty sure they go big on that too. not dressing up because again, one day where they can all afford to be themselves, but definitely meeting up at the hunter's moon, getting spectacularly drunk, roasting the mundane's costumes, and then once they get back to whichever of them's homes, watching some shitty movies and throwing stuff at the screen together

i'm on the fence about día de muertos. i know it's not exactly a sad holiday but i feel like it is for raphael because it kind of represents everything he's lost - his culture and his family, and he can't even go to the parade during the day, you know, although i'm not sure that would have been his thing, but i do think he would have loved to watch the arrival of the monarchs when he was a kid but he'd have to be in méxico for that. and particularly after he lost rosa i just feel like it would have been so emotionally charged for him, you know? he would definitely make her an altar every year and it would be just... big and well thought-out and something really emotional and important for him, welcoming his little sister back the best he can. and i feel like that's something he'd want to do alone because my boy loves to punish himself

but there are little things i think they would have wanted to do with him, and that they might push a little to be able to, like being with him while he eats by the altar and hearing him tell stories about rosita. and i think they would help him "undo" (?) the altar once día de muertos is over, which is always extra emotional for him and aaa. and then the next day they kind of just get to be with him and cuddle a little bit as he recovers emotionally, you know?

also it has just occured to me that raphael is christian shit fuck fart bitch cock. so okay i guess that puts xmas and easter somewhat on the map? again mostly for food. us latinos celebrate xmas on the eve, not on xmas day, and raphael is totally the insufferable xmas meal obsessed bitch who's on the kitchen all day and refuses to let anyone help (he can't pull that particular stunt for the meals they have for simon's holidays obviously but he can on xmas soo). but it's worth it because it is always a great one. and he also gives a lot of thought into getting everyone presents so that is sweet and it earns him lots of kisses on the cheek and stuff. and that's pretty much it for latino xmas, we don't really do stuff i'm still not convinced gringos haven't made up like the socks and the eggnog and xmas music (????) so it's more lowkey. and i think raphael would keep the more religious aspects of it to the stuff he does at church (again, there are downworlder religious communities idk what to tell u) and for the nursery home. which is not to say that like... oh wow xmas is totally not a xtian holiday! or whatever, just that the version the polycule does is more lowkey on the religious aspects and the things they do together on that day are more about being together with raphael on a day that matters to him, you know, especially since again, he is the only xtian and that's gonna be a sensitive thing for simon especially

and i think for easter it is mostly something they do to shower maia in sweets lmao. again she misses chocolate and i'm sure they spend a lot of their time trying to figure out how to get around that, either be by like trying to make special chocolate that doesn't make her sick or sweets that really really resemble chocolate or that are so good she doesn't even mind that she can't eat chocolate anymore. so that's their tradition for easter (and raphael goes to church ofc)

oh yeah and i forgot valentine's day! i have this funny little idea just for the shits where they have this little thing where they setup one-on-one dates for all the parts that are actually together and each of them lasts, like, 10 minutes (poor maia who dates everyone is just running around town) and it's more about the fun of running around from one day to the other like this is a bad romcom where some bastard is trying to juggle having two (monog) girlfriends at once. but then they actually get all together at the end of the day and trade presents and funny cards both among their dates and metamours ("roses are red, violets are blue, you're my girlfriend's girlfriend, and i love you platonically"). usually ending up with them drunk and debating how exactly they got to this overly complicated arrangement and trying to figure out the best way to explain this to an outsider and trying to make, like, fluxograms that explain all of their different relationships visually and they all look so messy it just leaves them more confused lmao. so yeah it's fun

and i think that's all i've got? i say, as if this answer isn't longer than anyone will have the time to read and took me over 4 months to write. but anyway

a special thanks to "a group where non-jews can ask questions about judaism and jews can answer" on facebook and all my jewish friends for helping me write about the jewish holidays and customs. i also used the following sources: Rosh Hashanah (link), how to build the sukkah (link), more on the sukkah (link), how to celebrate purim (link), more on purim (link), how to celebrate passover (link), what is a passover seder like (link), laws of yom tov (link), yom kippur (link), what to eat before and after yom kippur (link), a classic yom kippur breakfast menu (link), menus for the pre yom kippur meal (link). if there's anything inaccurate or disrespectful, however, please let me know, and feel free to add more ideas as well if you're jewish :)

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robbyrobinson · 3 years

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OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS: GOD AWAKEN (PT. XII)

The gang waited patiently for Hypnos to return with the Blight child. While waiting, Luz decided to relay the others on their plan.

“Alright, so Amity and I will go to Earth in our astral bodies and when we find out where the book is, Eda will use this bell and bring us back.”

Eda held the bell in her hand and rang it. “Why did you need Amity in particular to travel with you?”

“I knew that Willow and Gus would be attending Hexside tomorrow, and I couldn’t bring them into this kind of situation,” Luz explained, “besides, if they notice I am gone, I am hoping that they’d protect our bodies when we are gone.”

“I am still somewhat unsure about what we are trying to accomplish,” Lilith said, “Hypnos said that you needed to take these...drugs. How are we going to get them?”

Eda flicked her hand. “Don’t worry, sis, I have the solution.”

Eda walked out of the room and loud shuffling was heard. Some potion jars were dropped on the floor and exploded upon impact. The floor began to transform into different objects and shapes when Eda returned carrying a bottle in her hands.

“Sister, that isn’t what I think it is,” Lilith started.

Eda grinned. “Yes, indeed, Lilith; apple blood from 40 years ago!”

“Eda, why in the Titan’s name would you keep that bottle around for 40 years?” King asked.

“Pipe down, dog, I was actually considering saving this brew for Luz when she graduated Hexside, buuuut we could use this to help her travel.”

Luz gagged on reflex. “I don’t know, Eda; what if that’s dangerous?”

“Luz, how I see it, one of two things could happen: either this apple blood will send your soul out of your body so you can jump dimensions, or it could kill you.”

Luz frowned. “Both options sound too risky.”

“Maybe we can use a guinea pig for this experiment,” King suggested. “Hey, Hooty!”

Hooty’s tube head popped into the room, startling Lilith. “Hoot! Hoot! Hey guys!!”

King grimaced at the annoying voice coming from the house demon. “How would you like to play a game?”

Hooty’s black eyes bulged excitedly. “Ooo, a game! What are we playing? Charades? Chess! Ooo, maybe we can see who can put the most worms in their mouths without swallowing!! Hoot! Hoot!!”

“Shut up!” King yelled, his head throbbing, “we need you to drink this.”

He took a mug and poured the apple blood into it. A dark red liquid dripped out of the bottle with a sickly nauseating plop. He placed the mug at Hooty’s invisible feet and waited his eyes growing more intense. Hooty shifted his tube body to smell the concoction. His feathers ruffled in disgust.

“That smells like a goblin soaked his socks in it for months!!”

King nodded. “I know it smells bad, but we need you to drink it.”

“Mmm...what’s in it for me?” Hooty asked.

King scratched the boney part of his head for a moment. “If you do this, then...”

Luz interjected. “We’ll listen to your stories for a whole week!”

King turned to look at Luz with a hint of frustration on his face as if to criticize her for the suggestion. He turned back towards Hooty and forced his head to nod. “Eh...sure.”

Hooty smiled. “A WHOLE WEEK!? You guys hardly ever listen to my stories; finally, I will have some acknowledgment, hoot! Hoot!”

“Ugh, fine, whatever,” King said, “just drink it.”

Hooty knelt his body down to look at the liquid in the mug. Along with the red tint that gave the beverage its name, there appeared to be green moss growing in it. “Ew...do I have to?”

King flicked his fingers. Hooty sighed and closed his eyes so at the least he did not see what he was about to drink. The tip of his beak formed into a circular shape and he took a long swig of the concoction. King and the others felt their cheeks turning green.

“He’s...really doing it,” King observed, “I was kind of half-kidding when I said that we should test it on him.”

Hooty finished the mug and looked up again at the others. He didn’t say anything to them.

“Uh...Hooty?” Luz said, “are you okay??”

Hooty’s eyes widened and glimmered from seemingly glaring into the universe itself. Before they could say anything additional, Hooty fell to his side.

“Oh cramity, I think we killed Hooty!” Luz said.

Eda knelt down and placed two fingers close to Hooty’s mouth. “Naw, he’s still warm.”

“If only he was dead,” King complained.

“Then that means the astral travel had worked?” Lilith asked.

“Mmm...looks like it had.” Eda answered. “He’s probably already going down one of those wacko dimensions as we speak.”

King poked Hooty with a stick. “He was the security system, though; are you sure we can handle things while he is gone?”

“Of course, it’s just that we have to watch two girls’ bodies while they are traveling through the vastness of space.” Eda shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not that complicated.”

Luz looked at the unconscious tube bird and then at the apple blood. “Well, Hooty’s a house demon, and I’m a human.”

“Oh, that is true,” Eda said, “some drinks in our world might do unspeakably malicious things on your system.”

“Knock, knock.”

Hypnos came in carrying Amity on his back. “I got the girl!”

“Amity!” Luz screamed.

Amity immediately blushed from hearing Luz’s voice.

“Oh, Luz! Fancy meeting you here!”

“I live here,” Luz pointed out.

“Oh, right, you live here,” Amity giggled anxiously. “And I came here to see you.”

Amity tensed up from Luz’s stare. “I spoke to much!”

Hypnos rolled his eyes and sat Amity down. “You can have your infatuation moment later on.”

“Amity, we need your help,” Luz said.

Amity slammed her fist into her open palm. “Yes, who do I have to kill?”

She scanned the room for a moment and saw that Lilith was sitting on the couch. “You wanted me to kill her?”

Lilith held her hand out. “Woah, woah, I know it looks bad, but-”

Without much prompt, Amity conjured up her Abomination and it towered over the older witch. “Abomination, kill!”

Amity’s Abomination grabbed Lilith with his right hand and started to compress her with its large fingers. Lilith squirmed underneath the grip of the blobby monster to no avail.

“Amity, wait, please!” Lilith yelled.

“That’s what you get when you tried to kill my girl!” Amity yelled. She turned to look at Luz only now realizing what she had just said. “I-I mean my friend! No one tries to kill my friend.”

Eda stood up and grabbed onto Amity’s hand. “As much as I can understand your anger, this isn’t why we called you.”

Amity’s cheeks were red again this time from embarrassment. “Oh...sorry Lilith.”

The Abomination dropped a traumatized Lilith on the couch. “So, why am I here?”

They explained to Amity everything from Nyarlathotep’s return to the Boiling Isles, and how Emperor Belos was working alongside the dark god to enact the Day of Unity. Amity sat on the couch and quietly listened. Each passing moment, Amity felt a sense of dread overtake her. She looked down at her hands.

“All the times I used magic; you mean to tell me I was actually profiting off the sacrifices of different witches?”

Luz nodded sadly. “I am sorry that you had to learn about the darker side of the Isles’ history.”

“But if what you are saying is true, wouldn’t it make more sense to infiltrate the Emperor’s Coven and steal the portal door from Belos under his nose?” Amity asked.

Hypnos wagged his finger. “Belos is far too powerful to take on at your state.” He walked over to a wall of the house. “You all would get slaughtered the moment you step foot in his kingdom.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Amity said, “but...drinking this potent apple blood. Would it be too dangerous?”

King pointed at Hooty’s lifeless body. “It worked for Hooty.”

Amity frowned. “He looks dead.”

“No, he’s not dead,” King assured her, “he still has a pulse, see?”

He grabbed Hooty’s head and shook it in his hands. Amity’s fears were not comforted in the slightest. King tired himself out from shaking Hooty and unceremoniously dropped the head carelessly on the ground.

“There is no other way,” Luz said, “there is only one portal key, and that is what Belos currently has in his possession.”

“True, but...I am still worried,” Amity noted.

Luz clutched her hand tenderly. “Don’t worry; I’ll be doing it with you.”

Amity’s heart galloped quickly behind her ribs. Oh, sweet Titan, she was holding the hand of her crush. It was...soft, silky smooth like a baby’s bottom. Even though it was a mundane gesture, Amity felt that she was committing a grave sin. Her thoughts were spiraling out of control she couldn’t stand it. Dear Titan, give her strength.

“Amity, are you okay?” Luz asked in concern.

Amity quickly broke out of cloud nine still as red as ever. “I-I’m fine, Amity.”

“But you’re Amity,” Luz pointed out.

Sweat rolled down Amity’s forehead in beads along with some sweat accumulating onto Luz’s hand. “Oh, right, I am, aren’t I?”

She giggled nervously hoping to at least get the others laughing to feel less awkward. When she was met with the dead eyes of the others, she stopped laughing. “Let’s just do it.”

Outside of the owl house, the spy quietly listened and turned to return to Belos to report on what he had heard. As morning encroached on the Blight family, Odalia was already in the kitchen, having woken up earlier than the other members of her family.

“And this time, serve us something that we’d actually want to eat,” Odalia said sternly to her maid.

“As you wish, ma’am,” the maid groaned.

Odalia withdrew one of her favorite mugs from the cabinet and started to prepare some apple blood for herself. While gathering the ingredients, she heard a slight knock at the front door. Odalia groaned in annoyance. “Who can that be at this hour?”

She yelled for the maid to stop what she was doing and go to the door. She waited around a few minutes, but the same droning of the door echoed through the house. “Come on, what am I paying you for?”

Odalia rubbed her chin. Oh, right, she wasn’t paying her in snails. She thought about waking up her husband, but she couldn’t remember hearing him snore or let alone hear him move around in his bed. Maybe the twins, but they would probably do something mischievous as they often do. Amity? She was still somewhat upset at her daughter’s scathing opposition of her demands so she was likely to continue to be on her rebel streak.

The knock at the door only further annoyed the Blight matriarch. “Alright, fine, I will do it.”

She exited the kitchen and walked to the front door. “Yes, I am here; stop with your petulant, infernal knocking!”

She opened the door and was surprised with what she was seeing. There stood one of the imperial guards of the Emperor. Odalia rubbed the tiredness out of her eyes out of fear of hallucinating the event. But it was very real. In the guard’s hand was a scroll.

“Pray tell, why are you here at my house at this hour?”

The imperial guard didn’t speak. Instead, the guard rolled out the scroll in front of her and read what was on it. “Miss Odalia Blight, the Emperor has requested an audience with you.”

Odalia stepped back. “With...with me? Emperor Belos?”

“Aye; now please come with me.”

Emperor Belos was once again on his throne, passively waiting. His spy stood by the throne on the right side of it.

“Yes, my lord,” the spy replied, “the human girl is planning on arriving to the Earth before you can claim the book.”

Emperor Belos chuckled. He tentatively touched the scar on his mask that he received from his last encounter with the girl. “She is a very resourceful young lady, isn’t she?”

“As you say, my lord; what is the purpose of the book if you do not mind me asking?”

“It is an ancient book that was written thousands of years before I arrived to the Boiling Isles; it records many secrets and accesses to the dark arts. The book documents beings like the Titan and where they trekked and from where they will once again walk.”

The spy was about to say something else, but he was interrupted by Kikimora.

“We’ve retrieved her.”

Emperor Belos nodded and held his staff in his hand bidding the spy to leave. The spy understood and began to walk out. Down the corridors, he caught a glimpse of Odalia. Both of their eyes locked on each other. Before Odalia could say something about the peculiar stranger, the spy turned away and fastened his pace. Odalia shrugged and subsequently shook out any iota of suspicion from her mind. Belos stood from his throne to glance at Nyarlathotep.

“The deed is done, Master,” Belos said solemnly.

“Very good indeed,” the Crawling Chaos replied. “Leave us.”

As Belos turned to walk away, Nyarlathotep held out his staff. “I pray ask is your devotion still towards me?”

Belos lightly pushed the staff aside. “Yes, Master; I would never betray you.”

Nyarlathotep directly stared into Belos’ blue eyes for a few seconds and withdrew the staff. “Very well.”

Belos left through the back of his throne, relieved that Nyarlathotep didn’t suspect the spear he had locked away. Nyarlathotep sat down in the place of the Emperor and waited.

“Lord Belos, I’m he-”

Odalia stumbled on her words. Instead of Belos, she was instead in the presence of some...swarthy man. And yet, something about the dark-skinned man was oddly enthralling. His chiseled appearance; the intensity of his eyes; he had colored strips of linen on his head. From what Odalia could speculate, he was without a doubt of royalty.

“Welcome, Odalia, matriarch of the Blight family,” Nyarlathotep replied.

He had a smooth-way of speaking, sometimes even deliberately prolonging the last letter of his words to burrow into Odalia’s mind.

“Who are you?” Odalia finally asked.

“I am Nyarlathotep,” he replied, “I have risen from the blackness of twenty-seven centuries to deliver a message.”

“What is it that you want with me?” Odalia inquired.

“Why to join the Emperor’s Coven of course!” Nyarlathotep said extatically whilst raising his toned arms.

Odalia couldn’t believe it. Joining the coven was always a lifelong dream of hers, but due to forces outside of her own, she was forced to leave it as it was: a dream. This was the exact reason she wanted Amity to try for the Emperor’s Coven when she became of age. But with Amity speaking a lot of insolence lately, Odalia realized that she could not live through her daughter, even if she forced her to dye her hair to match her own.

“Well?” Nyarlathotep asked.

Odalia fidgeted with her fingers. “It is a great honor, my lord, but I feel that my chances of officially joining it are slim.”

Nyarlathotep tilted his head. “I am a representative of the Titan that you revere.”

Odalia raised an eyebrow. “You are?”

“The Titan has informed me that the Day of Unity is at hand: the gods have declared that there would come a new birth for the Boiling Isles, one where the weak are suppressed and extinguished from this land. The strong will rule this land and will never grow weary. Your lineage will be exalted above the heights of the clouds and will be a force to reckon with.”

Odalia tapped her chin with her fingers. That sounded like a good deal; join the Emperor’s Coven and she would reap the benefits of it. “If I do this, I will make the Blight family name the greatest in the world?”

Nyarlathotep sneered. “All of creation will know your name from the furthest parts of the galaxy to the fabric of reality itself.”

“You have yourself a deal, Nyarlathotep,” Odalia smiled.

Nyarlathotep took his finger and drew a circle. From the small portal, a book fell. The book opened itself up to reveal an empty page. Nyarlathotep took the pen fashioned from bone and motioned for Odalia to take it.

“Your blood, please.”

Odalia hesitated at first out of disgust that she would have to prick her finger and write her name in her own blood on some crummy old paper, but the promises that the Crawling Chaos promised her proved too powerful. She jabbed her finger with the bone with enough force that even Nyarlathotep was slightly taken aback by her decision. Her blood dripped through the page and onto the other pages.

“Excellent work, Odalia,” Nyarlathotep proclaimed, “for enlisting, I will bestow you with this.”

He produced a staff and placed it in her hand. “A staff.”

Odalia looked at the staff with curiosity. “But I already have one at home.”

“I know; but this staff, in particular, can collect magic, not just from your magic bile, but from any other source.”

“Hm, that would be useful,” Odalia thought, “what shall you have me do?”

Nyarlathotep turned her back into the hands of Emperor Belos and they walked down the empire. Through the doors, Belos stopped and talked to Odalia.

“It is great that you are assisting in our cause; The Day of Unity is upon us.”

They came upon a door that was locked away from the other rooms. Belos, with staff in hand, placed the tip of it on a sensor button. The door opened to allow the two in. Through the doors, Odalia saw more of the Emperor’s imperial guards walking to and fro on the stairways carrying heavy boxes. What struck her the most was the large machine in the middle of the bizarre laboratory.

“What is that, my lord?” Odalia asked.

“A gateway to other worlds,” Belos passively explained, “when the human girl came to rescue the Owl Lady, she tried to destroy the door that led to the Earth.”

“So, you managed to salvage what was left of it?”

“Very observative, Odalia,” Belos stated, “as we speak, the human and your daughter are going to go to Earth to acquire a book that I am after.”

“Daughter?” Odalia repeated.

The twins were still at home. She hadn’t heard anything from Amity when she had her talk with her which meant....her eyes doubled in size from the rationalization.

“I told Amity to not associate with that rat,” Odalia lamented, “I apologize for her; if she did something treasonous...the family line then....”

Belos held his hand out to silence her. “The Titan has told me that to stop the foolish human girl, you will lead a righteous crusade on the Earth.”

Odalia bowed her head. “It is an honor to work with you in the name of the Titan.”

Belos led her deeper into the laboratory. “As you know, the cost of treason against our way of life is petrification.”

Odalia gulped deeply as a sign of her comprehending the cost of treason.

“But you may not be aware of what becomes of the soul of the traitor, I assume?”

He opened another door in the laboratory. The imperial guards were painstakingly melding together red scraps of metal to form rows of armor. A conveyor belt carried the scraps of metal to assemble them. At the top of the conveyor belt was a large vat. It contained a scorching hot, melted down liquid and tipped itself into tubes. The hot liquid flowed through a series of pipes to a slab of metal. The slabs of metal slammed together with great pressure.

The substance sizzled and cooled remaining that way for thirty seconds until the slabs drew themselves away. In the middle were more of the scraps of metal. Odalia’s eyes twinkled.

“Armor? For what?”

“For the crusade,” Belos explained, “but does something strike you as peculiar about the metal?”

Odalia looked closely at the suits of armor unsure of what to expect. It soon became clear: armor that was being hammered into place moved about sluggishly. Each piece of metal that was hammered on made the armor jolt in excruciating pain. It was becoming crystal clear what Belos implicated with the armor: the armor was alive, and reacting in distress. The imperial guards picked and prodded at the armor suits forcing them into open boxes with their staffs laced with electrical wires.

Belos stood in front of one of the suits of armor and struck it.

“When these former witches committed treason, their bodies were left behind, but as for their souls...they were incapable of escaping their fates. So...after giving it some consideration, I had tasked my servants with collecting pieces of the stone statues and mixing them with metal native to the Isles to create a sturdier metal.”

“Then that means,” Odalia started.

“That is right; the souls of the executed witches were melted down to create the perfect metal for the perfect suits of armor.”

The armor moved around in a method similar to how Abominations are maneuvered. However, it was apparent that they still retained enough of their senses to feel pain. Shrill screams seeped out from the helmets of the metal in forced fits of air. They wobbled on their feet yet could not go one minute without falling over. Black paste oozed out through cracks of the armor making it more unsightly. And yet the imperial guards cared not one bit about the suffering of the souls and resumed work on them. Any of the armor suits that failed to be fully operational were picked up by pulleys and dropped back into the vat to be melted down again so the process could start anew.

“And you need me to lead these...things?” Odalia asked Emperor Belos once again.

“Of course! But when your daughter goes to Earth, you won’t be able to see her without this.”

One of his servants had a necklace on a small cushion. Belos thanked him for it and placed it around Odalia’s neck. “The necklace was crafted from a special type of salt that will make Amity and the human girl visible.”

Odalia took the necklace in her hand and looked at it. “Very well; and how will I lead the armor?”

“With the staff my master granted you, of course,” Belos responded, “you must collect enough magic in order to keep them under control.”

More magic she thought. It could take forever to collect as much magic as she could, and the Day of Unity might already be over. While pondering, she shook her head deeply to Belos and turned to walk away. She was hoping for Nyarlathotep to give her advice on what she had to do, but he mysteriously disappeared without a trace.

She returned home this time hearing someone else stir awake. Odalia tensed up instinctively and hid in the kitchen underneath the table. She held her breath hoping that she wouldn’t be found with the device. The staff glowed ominously sensing that magic was near.

“Mom, is that you?”

Odalia could recognize that voice as belonging to none other than her son Edric. It made some considerable sense because he would typically wake up at the time of day before his twin sister. Odalia was about to respond to him, but she saw that the staff was glowing a deeper shade. The thought crossed her mind: in order for her to control the armor suits, she needed magic. And lots of it. She did live in a house with four other residents...Belos didn’t say anything about where it had to come from.

Odalia got up from the bottom of the table and tapped the top of the staff on its flat surface. “Yes, Edric, come in here.”

Edric came in, hair disheveled and yawning deeply. He stretched his arms until there was a small, audible popping sound. “What’s going on?” He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and caught a glimpse of the staff. “Oh, cool staff! Where did you get it?”

Odalia did not respond to her son’s inquiries. Instead, she walked closer to him with the staff. Edric felt uncomfortable and tried to step back. This did not deter his mom, however. She held the staff’s head above Edric’s head. The spear glowed crimson red and began to “feed.”

A vapor slipped out of the orifices of Edric’s face. They came together to create one green, thick puff of an amorphous, shapeless mass and was absorbed into the spear. Edric gagged and wobbled the more that the staff drew from him. He grabbed onto one of the chairs at the table to hold himself up whilst grasping at his throat with his other hand. The color in his skin began to fade away until nothing more than a paper-thin hue remained.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

He tried to reach towards his mother, but Odalia continued to hold the staff without issue. She stops draining Edric once he fell on the ground.

“That might be enough for now,” Odalia said, “but to be sure, I will have to take you with me.”

#owl house #the owl house #edric blight #odalia blight #fanfiction #the owl house fanfiction #owl house fanfiction #cthulhu #cthulhu mythos #nyarlathotep #day of unity #the day of unity

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five-rivers · 5 years

Text

Cauldron/Electricity

For some reason or another, this post kept being eaten, which is why it’s so late. Sorry guys!

Cauldron/Electricity

The cauldron, or rather, the glowing green substance within it, bubbled and rolled. It did not boil. There was no fire beneath it. Lightning flashed, chartreuse, through the viridian clouds overhead. The air smelled of ozone, limes, and green peppers.

Sam stared down at the cauldron. She had no idea how she had gotten here. A ghost was probably responsible, in her life, ghosts were almost always responsible, but other that, blank. Nothing. Nada. Last thing she remembered, she had been brushing her teeth, getting ready for bed.

Was she dreaming? She dropped the long spoon she was holding, and pinched herself through her pajamas. No, it wasn't a dream.

Option two: overshadowing. The ghost would still be nearby. She felt for her wrist ray, but that, predictably, was gone.

She picked up the spoon. It was better than nothing, and the Fenton's had fought off ghosts with a mundane wooden baseball bat before. With the name Fenton on it.

The surrounding area didn't look promising. It was a high spot, almost craggy, surrounded by black, dripping trees. Between the color palette, and the odor in the air, this was almost certainly the Ghost Zone.

She hated being kidnapped. It played into too many stupid stereotypes. Also, it was being kidnapped, which was bad enough by itself.

She walked, placing her bare feet carefully, to where the ground started to drop off. Rough rocks and spindly, twisted trees laid scattered over a steep, almost vertical in places, slope. She could probably climb down, but it would hurt.

Down there didn't look all that great, either. She could see where the floating island dropped off into the great nothing of the Ghost Zone. Even of she did get down, there was nowhere to go and nowhere to hide.

The other side was much the same.

At this point, she was really hoping that Danny knew she was missing, because she didn't think she'd be able to get out of this without him.

Lighting forked down from the sky, shockingly white against all the green, and dipped down into cauldron. Sam threw herself to the ground. She was not going to be toasted by ghost lightning. Danny had never told her or Tucker what being electrocuted felt like, but she could draw conclusions from the screams and thr tender, careful way he moved after fighting with an electricity user.

The lightning stopped. Sam raised her head, ears ringing. Okay, regardless of whether or not there was anywhere to run to, she was going to climb down to where she wasn't the highest point ar-

A hand came out of the cauldron.

It was followed by an arm, a tuft of white hair, and then a body. A familiar body.

"Danny?"

Danny yelped, and threw himself backwards, knocking over the cauldron. He scrambled to his feet.

There was no sign of the ectoplasm that had been in the cauldron.

"Say something only Sam would!" he demanded, pointing.

"Uh," said Sam, mind going blank. "I think you should wear more black on a daily basis."

"You do?"

"Yeah, you could totally pull off the goth look. Where are we and what's going on?"

"You were possessed by this weird witchy ghost who had spells for ghost powers. She caused a bunch of trouble with love potions and curses and stuff, and she kept getting away when I tried to get her out, and when Tuck and I tried to ambush her in you room, she melted me, put me in a bottle, then brought me here and dumped me in that cauldron." He shuddered. "It's been hours."

Sam swallowed back a sour taste in the back of her mouth. "That sounds like multiple days."

Danny flinched. "Yeah, it's been a few. I'm sorry."

Sam took a deep breath. She was angry, but taking it out on Danny would be dumb and mean, and she'd been trying to be better about that kind of thing.

"Well, let's get out of here, and back home. If she's like any of the other ghosts we deal with, she'll be causing trouble."

"Oh, but I'm not like any of the other ghosts you deal with."

Sam spun to face the ghost. Like Danny said, her aesthetic was witch-like. She wore dark, loose, ragged clothing, and a tall pointed hat. Her skin was green, like most ghosts', but so were her eyes, and they were a deep forest green, barely glowing at all.

Danny inserted himself between Sam and the ghost, raised a hand and-

Nothing happened.

The ghost smiled. "It's good to know that at least that part of my spell worked properly. You are a most vexing subject to deal with."

"I do my best," said Danny. He glanced back at Sam.

She knew that look. No powers. Great.

"Who are you and what do you want?" asked Sam.

"My name was Vivian Davise. When I was alive, I was the strongest witch in North America. Real witch, mind you, not one of those children they murdered in Salem Town. But I died before I could pass on my skills." She smiled, too many teeth in her mouth. "Which is why I'm so luck I found you. You're perfect. You have the gift, and you have the inclination. You're even a descendant of mine."

So that's why her name sounded so familiar to Sam.

"So why kidnap us?" asked Danny.

"Well, I need to know if she's the right one for sure, don't I?" She looked at Sam, and flicked her fingers at Danny. "Make this ghost your familiar. Once I do so, I'll return his powers and you can leave. My old books are on this island. They'll explain how to do it."

"And how long will that take?" asked Sam. "Humans need to eat, you know." She was already feeling hungry.

"Then you had better eat fast."

"What if we don't want to do this familiar contract thing?" asked Danny. "No offense, Sam."

"It's fine."

"Well," purred the ghost. "That's not exactly up to you, is it? And don't try flying as humans. I've put safeguards up to prevent that." The ghot began to fade away. "Have fun!"

"Yeah, right," grumbled Sam.

"At least the sky is clearing up?" offered Danny. "And Tuck knows what happened, so..." he trailed off. He sighed, and flicked to human form before peeling off his coat and offering it to Sam. "You look cold."

"Thanks. I guess we'd better go look for those books." She frowned down the cliff. "I'm sorry about this."

"Don't be. You deal with my stuff all the time, and if we're apologizing for our ancestors, I should probably say something about one of mine trying to burn you alive."

"That's true."

Danny wound up giving his socks, shoes and jeans to Sam as well, then went ghost again so that both of them would be fully clothed. Neither he nor Sam wanted to try the climb without footwear.

Sam went first. Unlike Danny, she had some rock climbing experience, and thought it would be easier for her to find a safe path. Danny argued, of course, but Sam had the superior skill there as well, and won.

The climb wasn't too bad, but there were a couple of rough patches where she lost her grip or footing and slipped. She lost a fingernail, which was sure to annoy her mother when she noticed.

She didn't look up, but she didn't need to to feel Danny radiating worry down at her. This had to be hell on his Obsession. She mentally braced herself for the reflexive coddling she would receive later.

Danny started down once she reached the bottom, and she helped direct his descent. She couldn't see everything from down here, and he definitely picked out hand and footholds she couldn't, but she still helped him maneuver him out of a few places that looked like dead ends, and he got down faster than she had. He spent a few minutes fussing over her hands, and pulling band-aids out of his belt. But, finally, he wound down.

"So, I guess we should start looking for those books?" he asked.

Sam made a face. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Hey, it's okay. Look on the bright side: You can learn magic! I bet that'll be really useful."

"If any of it's real, and not just her ghost powers and delusions," said Sam, pessimistically. She allowed herself a tiny smile. "But, yeah, it would be cool."

To be continued in Artifact/Nursery Rhyme...

#danny phantom #ectoberweek19 #ectober #ectober 2019

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obaewankenope · 5 years

Link

IT’S DONE! OMG IT’S DONE! IT’S 6.8K AND IT’S D O N E

Summary:

“An owl, cat, or toad—what the fuck?” Crowley complains and Aziraphale smacks him on the arm for cursing.

“Crowley! Language!” the angel gasps, plucking the letter from the demons hand to read it himself. “Well—that is—it’s a little restrictive, I’ll admit,” he says, frowning a little at the list and specifications. “But if those are the only options—”

“Then we’ll make new options,” Crowley declares and Harry—enjoying the rebelliousness of his uncle Crowley immensely—nods vigorously.

If you don’t wanna read it on AO3 then click the read more and you can read it here :)

Harry’s letter is unsurprising for Crowley and Aziraphale for several reasons: number one) Harry has performed minor feats of magic ever since he began living with them above Aziraphale’s shop[1]. Number two) there are a select number of books in Aziraphale’s shop that are, to put it delicately, not for the mundane[2]. These books have been found and read by Harry with no damaging side-effects except when one specific chapter gave Harry the idea that levitation was a neat idea and thus must be performed at all times[3]. And, lastly, number three) several instances of poorly-disguised wizards appearing in the shop and trying to abscond with Harry only to be thwarted either by Harry himself, Aziraphale miracling them somewhere rather Unpleasant—he still refuses to tell Crowley where—or Crowley himself transforming into a rather terrifying serpent and constricting them to the point of unconsciousness before sending them to a cow field that is particularly pungent-smelling[4].

The requirements for his education, however, leave something to be desired.

“An owl, cat, or toad—what the fuck?” Crowley complains and Aziraphale smacks him on the arm for cursing.

“Then we’ll make new options,” Crowley declares and Harry—enjoying the rebelliousness of his uncle Crowley immensely—nods vigorously.

“It’d be awesome if I could take a dog!” Harry exclaims and Crowley is a little put out since he was considering a snake, but this is Harry and if he wants a dog, then a dog he shall have[5]. “I could take it to class with me!”

Aziraphale laughs lightly. “I don’t think they would allow you to take your dog to class, Harry,” he says, quite reasonably.

“Why not?” Challenges Crowley. “The dog’d[6] be his familiar wouldn’t it? Stands to reason they’d have to let the kids have their animals with them whenever they want.”

Harry beams at this and Aziraphale gives Crowley a Frowny Look—the kind that says “you are being deliberately oppositional now and I know it so stop it”—that makes Crowley smile brightly at him.

“Perhaps,” Aziraphale begrudgingly agrees, letting himself smile a little at the prospect of the type of mischief a boy and his dog can get up to in a classroom. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

Diagon Alley is, in a word, disastrous. Crowley and Aziraphale bracket themselves around Harry like parentheses[7] and act as a tidal wall to break the waves of people milling about the—well-diagonal alley full of wizarding shops and wizarding people.

“Why does he even need a wand? Kid’s got plenty of magic, can just point and click his fingers like we do, can’t he?” Crowley asks for what is probably the dozenth time—it is in fact, the fourteenth time and Aziraphale has been counting—as they reach the wandmakers shop. “Pointless waste of wood if you ask me.”

“Yes, but we’re not asking you,” Aziraphale snips, as he pushes the door to the shop open. “Harry requires a wand to focus his magic, unlike us, now hush. We’re supposed to be normal.”

“Normal, pfft!” Crowley saunters in behind Aziraphale and Harry, shrugging derisively at Aziraphale when the angel gives him a sharp look. “We’re in a shop selling wands, angel. Not exactly normal.”

“I—well—yes but, more normal than—than us,” Aziraphale admits quietly, frowning at Crowley who just smirks at him. “Stop being annoying, Crowley. Now is not the time.”

“Oh I disagree, angel,” Crowley looks around the shop. “Being annoying is a full-time gig.”

Aziraphale ignores the demon, focusing instead on Harry and not giving Crowley what-for in a verbal manner. The shop is rather dusty and dark, obviously in need of a good cleaning, but Aziraphale can recognise the signs of someone who deeply loves their craft in the way the boxes, although dusty, are in perfect condition. This Ollivander fellow is obviously capable, then.

“Ah, Harry Potter.”

And incredibly creepy.

Both angel and demon step up beside Harry, protective and perfectly capable of being creepy and intimidating themselves if needed—though Crowley is skipping both and going for a more terrifying vibe. The old man—wizard—wandmaker steps into view from behind a drab curtain and reveals a head of hair that would rival Albert’s for chaotic[8].

“Yes! Hello there! You must be the—uh—the proprietor of this establishment!” Aziraphale says, pasting on a polite smile that is a little too false and only a little bit obviously fake for that reason. “We’ve come to enquire about a—well—a wand for our nephew here!”

The wandmaker stares at Aziraphale and Crowley stood on either side of Harry—a happy, healthy-looking, completely okay with the protectiveness of them both Harry—and makes a decision.

“Very well, I have a selection for you to choose from.”

Aziraphale relaxes with a floosh of breath but Crowley, ever the paranoid sort, remains alert and wary until they procure a wand for Harry—paying for it with the money the wizarding world has created on its own, a strange currency but Crowley is good with numbers so not a problem really—and escape the wand shop with only a minor bit of weird creepy talk from the wandmaker[9].

The rest of the shops are easy—although they do go to Gringotts in order to enquire about Harry’s family vault—and they are in and out of Diagon Alley by teatime. As a result, they—and by ‘they’ I mean, ‘Aziraphale and Harry’—declare that they really want food and angel cake and thus all of them end up in a little café near to the pub that acts as the entry point to Diagon Alley in London.

All-in-all, it is an enjoyable trip that gives Harry a taste of what the magical world-proper is like. It whets his appetite even more and by the time September rolls around, the eleven-year-old wizard is bouncing around the bookshop and flat like a bouncy ball that’s been flung with considerable strength. He won’t admit it, but Crowley is partly relieved Harry is attending a boarding school for most of the year, but the larger part of him that has grown ruthlessly attached to the child is sad and forlorn.

Thus, it is no surprise that Crowley—having caved and gotten Harry a dog that was a simple mongrel mix but may also, possibly, have had a little bit more wolf in it than is typical—travels to Hogwarts and assumes the position of Care of Magical Creatures at the school in order to keep an eye on his nephew.

It is also no surprise that Aziraphale also heads to Hogwarts to watch over both Harry and Crowley and pretend that he is offering positive guidance to a child with a Great Future for the benefit of heaven[10]. The Sorting Feast is, as a result of this, incredibly amusing for Harry when he recognises both of his uncles have somehow figured out a way to be at Hogwarts even though neither of them are wizards[11].

Harry is pleased to note that he is placed in the same house as his parents—although he doesn’t remember them, having the association of being in the same Hogwarts house as them is comforting for the orphaned child regardless of the fact that he may have been better suited for any of the other houses[12]. Both Aziraphale and Crowley notice the way Albus I’m-so-smart-and-sneaky Dumbledore is pleased by Harry’s sorting and, while they don’t begrudge Harry the connection to his parents, are Displeased by Dumbledore’s shitty attitude.

By the end of Harry’s first night at Hogwarts, Crowley and Aziraphale have firmly cemented in the minds of their fellow staff that they are: “very strange but in a sweet way” (Aziraphale), “very probably evil wizards intent on killing us all” (Crowley), and, lastly, “very much in love but denying it” (both). All of the guesses are somewhat right, though neither Crowley or Aziraphale have any intention of Clearing Things Up since they both enjoy a bit of chaos—even if Aziraphale pretends otherwise, Crowley knows him too well to think the angel would ever pass up a chance at messing with people.

Of their fellow staff members, three are Problematic For Various Reasons. The first is, naturally, Albus Dumbledore; headmaster and stupid prick who leaves orphans with racist, xenophobic, nasty people. The second is Severus Snape; potions master and a Generally Unpleasant Person who Crowley feels would get along well with Hastur and Ligur. Last but not least is Quirinus Quirrell; defence against the dark arts—“the dark arts? How pretentious is that, angel?” Crowley mocks when he hears about it—and absolute chicken who is afraid of his own shadow.

Although Quirrell doesn’t strike them as the type to be dangerous, the DADA professor is far too timid to be of Any Real Use and—as Crowley mentions to Aziraphale under his breath after meeting him—there’s something “strange about his smell; no it’s not the garlic, I know what garlic smells like!”.

Dog-the-mongrel-with-a-bit-of-wolf-in-her[13] has had a ball of a time with Hogwarts but, generally, is seldom seen in the castle. Like most of the pets the students have, she wanders the grounds and enjoys the freedom of Scottish geography in the way any canine with a bit more wolf than most enjoys it; by hunting poor little rabbits and terrorising any cat that crosses her path.

Harry makes friends quickly, befriending a young witch called Hermione Granger—“a lovely name, Hermione! It means ‘princess of Hermes’ you know?” Aziraphale exclaims, smiling brightly at the bushy-haired girl when Harry introduces her to him—with ease after mentioning how his “uncle Aziraphale owns a bookshop in London”, and a young wizard by the name of Ronald “Ron” Weasley—“oh, he has red hair like you, Crowley dear!” Aziraphale grins at the dark look Crowley gives him but both of them are polite enough even when ‘Ron’ gawps at them for being “Harry Potter’s uncles!”[14].

He regularly visits both of them outside of class, towing Hermione and Ron along with him and it reassures both angel and demon to see their de facto son with peers his own age that know about magic and can Understand Him That Way. In London it had been much harder considering they enrolled him in a nearby primary school and had to keep explaining to Harry that regular people—non-magical and non-immortal in this case—don’t understand Harry for his magic and while the children will like it, their parents will—to put it mildly—‘freak the fuck out’[15].

Halloween is, in a word, disastrous. The day starts off like any other day, though the students are more hyped up for the feast later on than on other days. Crowley finds that he’s a surprisingly decent teacher—especially when he ropes in one Rubeus Hagrid as an assistant for practical and theoretical lessons combined[16]—and has no problem exposing the children to creatures that could easily kill them if they’re not careful[17]. It endears him to most of the students if not, naturally, to their parents—or members of staff who think him Unprofessional or Whatever Other Rubbish They Harp On About Him In The Staffroom for actually enjoying the teaching and engaging with his students creatively[18].

By the time lunch comes around on Halloween, there are rumours galore about this and that and Crowley—being the demon he is—helps seed some of his own for the sake of it. It’s quite pleasant, come to think of it, and instantly Crowley knows that it cannot last. Halloween is a day of change, of thinning things and stranger happenings and he’s never known a single Halloween day to go well for him. Not since 1702.

It is for that reason that Crowley is the first to react when Quirrell comes barging through the doors of the Great Hall looking paler than the DADA professor ever has—a feat indeed for the pasty professor who seldom leaves his classroom save for meals—and proclaims “TROLLLLLLLLLLL! TROLLLL IN THE DUNGEOONNNNNNN! Thought you ought to know” and dead-faints in the middle of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

He’s up and over the staff table—legs doing the usual thing they do when he ignores physics and How Legs Work Entirely—and half-way down the gap between the tables before the first scream leaves a students’ throat.

“Not to worry!” He bellows cheerfully, passing the unconscious Quirrell and giving the professor a sly kick in the process. “I’ll handle it! Haven’t had me a fight with a troll in centuries, ha!”

“Crowley don’t you dare!” Aziraphale shouts after him, rising from the staff table, but the demon ignores him with glib glee to head for the troll and beat it senseless—or whatever else he’s going to do to it, no one in the Great Hall rightly knows.

But the sight of the Care of Magical Creatures professor gleefully heading towards the dungeon does a more spectacular job of dissolving the fear and tension Quirrell’s words had elicited in the whole hall. Aziraphale stood glaring at the doors adds a measure of amusement to the whole affair that has Dumbledore trying to save face by declaring that the “feast shall continue but no students are permitted to leave the hall until Professor Crowley returns” before he, McGonagall and Snape all leave.

Aziraphale is curious about where they’re going but, considering that Harry is still in the Great Hall, he remains himself and gives Harry a reassuring smile. Both of them know Crowley will fair better than the troll—no matter what size it is—since he’s a demon and turns into a snake, but they worry regardless.

“Harry, your uncle is mental,” Ron says to Harry who nods and grins.

“He’s a demon, says it’s in his nature,” Harry replies and Ron just shrugs and takes another bite of the chicken drumstick in his hand.

“Fair enuff.”

When Crowley returns to the Great Hall, he’s got a few scratches and his sunglasses are hanging off one ear revealing his eyes, but he’s grinning widely and saunters up to Harry to throw an arm over his shoulder.

“That was brilliant, that was, right laugh!” Crowley declares, enjoying the wide-eyed, awe-filled stares he’s getting from the Gryffindors surrounding Harry. “Never had to tell a Troll to Troll-off before!”

“Crowley you utter fool!” Aziraphale exclaims from behind him, hands coming up to grasp at the edges of the demon’s robes. “Look at the state of you! You didn’t even clean yourself up—have to always make an entrance.”

“You love it, angel,” Crowley says, grinning at Aziraphale who huffs out a little smile of his own.

“Honestly, must I do everything myself?” The angel questions sarcastically, snapping his fingers and Crowley’s robes are miraculously clean and neat, his hair less ruffled, and the scratches healed. The only thing Aziraphale doesn’t fix are Crowley’s sunglasses, which he plucks off instead and pockets in his own robes. “You have such lovely eyes, Crowley, I do wish you wouldn’t hide them away all the time.”

This leaves Crowley wordless long enough for Harry to giggle along with half the table at his shocked expression levelled at the angel. It’s an amusing expression, to be fair.

“Right,” Crowley croaks, clearing his throat and looking away from Aziraphale to give Harry a Look. “Enough of that, you,” he says to Harry who continues to giggle before he and Aziraphale head back to the staff table for the rest of the feast.

By the time Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape return, the feast is again in full swing, Crowley is lounging in Dumbledore’s thro- chair and Aziraphale is sat in McGonagall’s seat nattering away to the demon with a soft smile on his face[19].

Neither of them seem willing to give up their chosen seats for the night and thus Dumbledore is consigned to sitting next to Snape where there is a strained correspondence of Looks and Words while McGonagall enjoys sitting in Aziraphale’s usual seat next to Hagrid and having a lively discussion with the assistant CoMC professor.

Christmas holidays begin with the same sort of fanfare the Christmas season always brings out in people: absolute chaos. Students running around the castle searching for misplaced items, professors all-but pulling their hair out over essays that have to be handed in still, and a librarian on the war path for every unreturned book in the Hogwarts library.

Harry loves every second of it—even if he could do without the essays.

It is, by group consensus, agreed that they shall return to London for the duration of the holiday period, though Harry is allowed to visit his friends as they both are heading home—although Hermione is reluctant as she cannot access the Hogwarts library from home, until Aziraphale mentions his bookshop and how she can study there if she wishes to, then she is single-handedly planning her Christmas holidays for her family to include as much time at the bookshop as possible. Crowley only has one stipulation; he meets their families first[20].

The meeting is short and sweet, mostly owing to Aziraphale’s determined approach to it all, but Crowley and Molly Weasley come to a terse agreement where neither will ruin the other because Harry Likes Them And It Would Upset Harry[21]. Harry enjoys his time at the Weasley home—“it’s called The Burrow, how cool is that?”—but admits that he loves being with his uncles more than with his friend’s family because—“you love me for me, not because of my name”—and that doesn’t make Crowley or Aziraphale burst into tears; except that it does.

Crowley blames it on allergies to Christmas pudding and Aziraphale hits him with a spatula for saying such a cruel thing about pudding. Harry’s laughter makes their Christmas all the more enjoyable but by the time the new term arrives, the three of them are happy to make their way back to Hogwarts for the rest of the school year.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron end up in detention with Draco Malfoy after attempting to have a duel with the young boy. They are caught by Crowley and McGonagall—had it been only Crowley they’d have gotten away with it, but McGonagall is a stickler and thus they were stickled—and their detention is a stint in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid looking for unicorns. It is, at this point, that Harry discovers a new Fascination that he shares with Hermione and Ron but won’t tell his uncles just yet.

“Not until I’m sure, I don’t want them to think I’m stupid” Harry says to his friends after they return to the tower and settle on one of the couches near the still burning fire. It’s past midnight but it is a weekend and thus they needn’t be up godawful early for classes. Both Hermione and Ron frown at Harry for his stubborn refusal to talk about his scar, the cloaked figure in the forest, and the general number of suspicions he has about Things with his uncles.

“As if they’d think you’re stupid, Harry, they bloody adore you mate” Ron replies, shaking his head at his friend. “Seriously, they’re mental about you.”

Hermione agrees. “Ron’s right Harry, you should tell them”. The look she gives him is very much one she has learnt from Aziraphale and conveys the perfect amount of you-are-being-stupid as well as you’re-lucky-I-love-you that Harry smiles a little.

“Maybe,” Harry hedges, before he distracts them both with talk of their latest essay for potions.

Aziraphale and Crowley are content—mostly—to wait until Harry comes to them and shares his Fascination with them since he’s always done that before. They trust that Harry will come to them if he’s in danger however, they both forget that, although they’ve had Harry for three years now, nine years of his life were spent not trusting adults to Act Particularly Adult and, as such, Harry sometimes lets old habits rule his actions.

Earlier on in the year, Dog-the-mongrel had tried to scare a particularly smug-looking tabby cat only to get the shock of her life when said tabby cat transformed into an unimpressed witch with a pointed hat and even pointier words for her and her owner. At that point, Crowley had introduced Dog-the-mongrel to Hagrid and Fang which had been, overall, the Best Idea Ever. Harry gained a new friend in Hagrid and Fang gained a protective companion that made going into the Forbidden Forest an absolute breeze considering she seemed more terrifying than anything in the forest itself[22].

Summer begins and classes start to wrap up as exams are set up and students begin to stress about revising and passing and failing and which subjects they want to continue with and so on. Crowley tells his classes that anyone who doesn’t kill whatever creature and can at least write their own name is allowed to continue with Care of Magical Creatures. This results in him being buried under a pile of seriously stressed out fifth years who have been panicking over studying for all their classes on top of the suddenly heavy workload CoMC has given then since Crowley took over[23].

Aziraphale takes great pleasure in being able to loan out books laden in charms and spells designed to protect them from students destroying them but with the exam-season, he’s a little frazzled around the edges when certain students test these charms and spells to their limits. Crowley wisely doesn’t irritate the angel for a few days, preferring instead to let Aziraphale focus on not accidentally smiting any of the students who return books that are a little worse for wear[24].

Four days into June, Harry, Ron, and Hermione undertake a truly idiotic task of trying to get the Philosopher’s Stone before a certain evil professor can. They mistakenly think it is Snape who is after the stone when it is, in fact, the snivelling coward Quirrell, but at least they did some pretty good logical thinking to reach their initial conclusions. Ron is side-lined by a giant chess set where he gets walloped by a stone Queen. Hermione outlasts Ron by one more test but can’t get past the rest as it is a One Person Only kind of deal—and also they’re tests that Crowley and Aziraphale designed and Harry knows the Answers but he won’t tell Hermione since she needs to Warn Someone[25].

“But Dumbledore isn’t at the school!” Hermione exclaims, upset and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Forget Dumbledore,” he instructs, holding Hermione by the shoulders to keep her focused on him. “Tell my uncles. They’ll be in the library; uncle Crowley always bothers uncle Zira there because uncle Zira basically lives there.” Harry gives Hermione a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Just tell them. And get Ron some help too.”

Crowley and Aziraphale appear in time to stop Quirrell from trying to kill Harry, though their appearance is a less dramatic than that of Dog-the-mongrel who bursts through a literally wall of fire to savage Quirrell’s legs with the ferocity of a dog intent on protecting its master.

This doesn’t stop both demon and angel from attacking Quirrell, they simply don’t bother to get in Dog-the-mongrel’s way and leave her to Quirrell’s rather tasty and meaty calves. Aziraphale summons a weapon of celestial being—not The Flaming Sword but rather a small Flaming Dagger that is just as effective even if its reach is shorter—to jab at Quirrell with while Crowley goes the traditional route and slams a fist into the side of the DADA professor’s jaw.

This coincidentally reveals the distorted face on the back of Quirrell’s head when his turban is knocked off by the force of Crowley’s punch. Thusly, Aziraphale has a brand-new target for his Flaming Dagger and gleefully slashes at the face of the-once-Lord-Voldemort.

The possessed professor lashes out with wandless magic, disrupting Crowley and Aziraphale long enough to wrap his fingers around Harry’s neck, only to cry out in pain when the fingers begin to sizzle and burn from the contact.

“Oi! Get off him!” Crowley shouts, grabbing the shoulder of Possessed Professor and dragging him away from Harry, accidentally unfurling his wings from his back with the force he has to exert. The wings flare behind him, four instead of two because this isn’t just Crowley-being-a-demon, this is Crowley-who-was-an-Archangel-and-is-Angry and this Crowley will not let someone hurt a kid.

Especially Harry.

Aziraphale takes the opportunity presented by Crowley pulling Possessed Professor away from their adopted son and confusing him with four wings mysteriously sprouting from Crowley’s back, to slam the Flaming Dagger into the chest of Possessed Professor. This elicits a pained shriek from Quirrell and the face on the back of his head—obviously owing to the fact that the face is evil and Quirrell evil-by-association-via-possession—and both Crowley and Aziraphale watch in honest surprise as smokey-dust flakes off of Quirrell’s body, both from the back of his head and his hands.

Before their eyes—and Dog-the-mongrel who has released her hold on Quirrell’s leg now that it’s sort of collapsing in on itself—Harry, Crowley, and Aziraphale watch Quirrell disintegrate until there’s nothing more than a pile of dust and a vaguely face-shaped smoke shadow shouting obscenities at them which Crowley rolls his eyes at and snaps his fingers[26].

The smoke shadow is promptly removed from their vicinity, sent to some random forest in Romania where it can stay for however long it likes so long as it doesn’t come near Harry, just in time for Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and Severus Snape to burst through the wall of flames, wands drawn.

“What happened?” McGonagall questions, striding over to Harry worriedly, even though she keeps her wand up and has a suspicious expression on her face as she survey Crowley and Aziraphale.

“Harry stopped the now deceased Quirrell from stealing a priceless artefact,” Crowley drawls, rocking on his feet and giving McGonagall a smile. It’s the kind of smile he gives people to try and be appeasing but it’s really just annoying. “You can thank him later, he needs some sleep and fixing up from fighting with a plant earlier.”

“Also flying keys that attacked me,” Harry pipes up, helpfully, and Crowley nods.

“And those.”

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are in any mood to explain to the three professors what the fuck just happened—Harry is shaking, the shock hitting after the adrenaline has fled his system, and he is their priority thank you very much—so they simple freeze time and abscond with him to their living space inside the library to get some much-needed rest.

They also, possibly, sit Harry down and have a very Detailed Discussion about how he can come to them with anything; “yes, even if it’s stupid and pointless” Crowley has to reassure Harry that he’s not in trouble but that they’d rather he actually tell them Before The Bad Stuff Happens.

Albus Dumbledore shows up at the door an hour later, supremely unimpressed with their Shenanigans and—in the way that Dumbledore does best—demands an explanation.

Crowley, instead of explaining, happily informs Dumbledore that the only reason neither he nor Aziraphale have murdered the stupid fucking idiot is because “it’d cause way too much paperwork” for their “respective offices” and to “get the fuck out and leave Harry alone”.

Crowley may also tell Dumbledore in no uncertain terms that Harry is staying with them for good and that no wizard is a match for them and also:

“If you think I’m letting him go back to that nasty cow of an aunt of his then you’re absolutely fucking bonkers! He’s staying with us and you’ll have to kill me to take him,” Crowley says and it’s no joke, it’s not an exaggeration. It’s a Fact.

It is a Proclamation.

Heaven couldn’t kill Crowley. Hell couldn’t kill him. Like fuck will a wizard with awful fucking dress-sense manage what those two places cannot. Like. Fuck.

“You will also—I’m afraid—have to go through me,” Aziraphale declares, coming to stand beside Crowley in their little living space where Harry has a room to himself if he ever needs it—like now. “And I’m not a fan of fighting really. But I will! For Harry.”

Dumbledore stares at the both and he’s trying to read their minds but they’re over six thousand years old and no human can possibly understand that sort of scale of existence. He can’t even fathom how they think let alone what they are, and it’s a vexed, put out Dumbledore that leaves them alone twenty minutes later after agreeing to their ‘demands’.

Madam Pomfrey isn’t nearly as easy to deal with when she learns they absconded with her patient. It took Crowley an hour and a half of relentless grilling by the healer—and then a hands-on demonstration of his skill—before she begrudgingly accepted that Harry was Perfectly Okay and Crowley knew what he was doing[27].

The end of year feast is entertaining because Gryffindor wins and Harry is hoisted up by the Weasley twins who are cheering loudly for him. Hermione and Ron are hoisted up as well since they managed to get their house the windfall of points needed to steamroller over Slytherin. Crowley secretly thinks Dumbledore did the points during the feast just to be Dramatic, but he can’t be too mad about it when Harry gives him the biggest smile he’s ever seen on the kids face since that day he took him away from Number Four.

Harry returns to London via the Hogwarts Express while Aziraphale and Crowley just teleport over—though they utilise Crowley’s Bentley for the teleportation as it’s not exactly difficult for him to take a vehicle containing their belongings and themselves as a vessel for transport—to the station and pick him up the moment he’s peeled himself away from the Weasley family and the Granger family.

Together they return to the bookshop and enjoy the summer in London until a large-eyed, very dedicated House-Elf shows up and tries to ruin it all. But that is a story for another time.

[1] His first feat had been magicking himself a plate of rather delicious pink wafers (these are tasty bis- cook- we call them biscuits okay, Americans, accept it) from the cupboard because he was engrossed in watching a documentary about sharks on TV and was hungry at the same time. Aziraphale witnessed the resulting appearance of the delicious snacks and went about miracling himself some as well. Both of them had discovered an entire channel of documentaries and, unfortunately for Crowley, they loved watching them at all times.

[2] Mundane as human without magical abilities and, also, mundane as people who are a little Too Dull to imagine any of the contents of the books as possible even with magical abilities. Harry—being not at all mundane—found the books fascinating.

[3] Crowley found the situation to be hilarious considering the chaos Harry caused up to the point where the child decided to levitate himself up to the skylight and sit on the edging of it precariously with a snack. At that point, Crowley conceded that Aziraphale was right and Harry had to Stop Levitating This Instant. Harry, needless to say, was Not Pleased with this development. He did, however, do as requested and limited his levitating to only a few feet rather than a few hundred.

[4] Naturally, it goes without saying, that Crowley and Aziraphale both modify the memories of these individuals to ensure they don’t return. This, also, allows them information on who keeps sending these people. It is for this reason—and many others—that neither demon nor angel are particularly impressed with one Albus—six-dozen-middle-names-Dumbledore.

[5]Dogs, generally, are not something Crowley particularly likes. They tend to always chew on his trousers and his shoes whenever he leaves them around. However, although he isn’t their greatest fan, Crowley has never left a dog alone or in a bad situation. He has, then, at various points in his life, rescued several hundred canines that he has rehomed with families or individuals who will appreciate them as they ought to be appreciated. This is a fact about Crowley that Aziraphale knows in the Abstract but Crowley will Never Willingly Admit.

[6] This is actually “the dog would be” but Crowley is lazy with pronunciation at times, preferring to squash words and letters together until half of them are missing.

[7] Yes, that is a pun, what of it?

[8] Albert Einstein was a personal friend of Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s at one point or another in time. They both considered his later hairstyle to be, in a word, crazy but the style suited the physicist perfectly; it does not suit Garrick Ollivander.

[9] “The wand chooses the wizard, mister Potter!” Crowley had really wanted to ask how a piece of wood does that when choosing implies sentience and awareness of there being a choice, but the wandmaker distracted him with talk of how the wand Harry now possesses is a twin of the one that gave him the lightning scar on his forehead. The demon has Plans to return to Ollivander’s at a later date to pester the wandmaker but he refuses to take Harry in there ever again. Garrick Ollivander is too creepy for Crowley’s tastes and Harry is not to be exposed to too-creepy-even-for-uncle-Crowley things.

[10] Aziraphale, rather conveniently, replaces a rather unhappy, irritable, librarian who longed for retirement but trusted no one to be able to care for her precious books until she met Aziraphale and met a kindred book-loving-to-the-point-of-violence soul and accepted her generous retirement package from Hogwarts.

[11] They existed long before magic was a thing for humanity and will, hopefully, exist long after humanity also. As such, Harry only calls them wizards when it is necessary. Otherwise, they are ‘angel’ and ‘demon’ respectively.

[12] The Sorting Hat, at one point, all but begs Harry to consider the other houses but, unfortunately for it, it had answered Harry’s question of which houses his parents had been in and—thusly—ruined its own chances of having a bright child in the Smart house, a sly child in the Sly house, a loyal child in the Loyal house, and ended up with a child-who-is-all-of-those-things-and-more-because-children-should-not-be-pidgeon-holed-at-eleven into the Brave house.

[13] Dog-the-mongrel is not to be confused with just Dog who happens to also be a hellhound. This is Harry Potter, not Adam Young, and Harry is the Saviour of the magical world of Britain—because they cannot save themselves apparently—not the antichrist as is the case with Adam Young.

[14] One child that Harry does not make friends with is Draco Malfoy. The Malfoy boy is rude to Ron at just the wrong moment and, although Harry has been raised by Crowley and Aziraphale, this act by Draco results in Harry rejecting Draco’s offer of friendship while publicly scolding the other eleven-year-old for being rude and derisive for no reason other than “for the sake of it”. Ron officially loves Harry after this and is absolutely stoked to be friends with him.

[15] Harry had been most put out by this and had only accepted the necessity of it when the TV miraculously showed a documentary about the witch hunts in Europe and discussed how modern-day witch-hunters still “walk among us”. The irony isn’t lost on Crowley or Aziraphale that they do, in fact, know an actual witch-hunter by the name of Shadwell but they both decided to keep the eccentric man away from Harry at all costs.

[16] Albus Dumbledore had raised a complaint about Crowley’s decision for only as long as he could blink before the demon had told him—rather loudly—to “FUCK RIGHT OFF TELLING ME WHO I CAN HAVE AS MY ASSISTANT YOU COLOUR-CODED DISASTER” and storming out of Dumbledore’s office, taking extra care to cause a lot of chaotic damage to various objects in the magpie nest it was.

[17] Crowley had impressed this upon them all in every class by periodically assuming the form of one of the creatures they were to ‘care’ for and terrorising them with it until he decided They Got The Point and transforming back to his human shape. Oddly enough, the children now looked forward to his lessons and figuring out which of the creatures he was in the group—though none of them tried to figure it out by being rude, mean, or cruel to any of the creatures as they’d received a lot of detentions with the new librarian who was only cheerful until he learned who had sent them to him; then he was Scary.

[18] Crowley is quite certain that if someone told Severus Snape or Minerva McGonagall to approve their lessons with fun in mind, they’d likely explode; the former because he’s a Nasty Nastier and the latter because she is Traditional Teaching Only Thank You Very Much You English Dog. Crowley likes McGonagall for her no-nonsense attitude in life but she could stand to loosen up a little more—let her hair down, hex Snape a few times, chase some birds, that sort of thing.

[19] Quirrell had been left unconscious on the floor between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables as none of the staff or students have any desire to deal with the dramatics of the man.

[20] This is more to do with Ron’s family since they’re magical and if they had half a mind to, they could steal Harry and then he and Aziraphale would have to murder an entire family to get him back because no one is taking their son from them and least of all anyone who apparently thinks the sun shines out of Albus Dumbledore’s fucking arse!

[21] Aziraphale makes no such agreement and is, as such, the much more dangerous party of their little trio family group.

[22] Obviously this isn’t the case, but Crowley had, upon obtaining Dog-the-mongrel for Harry, placed a rather ingenious little demonic miracle on her that made her more terrifying to any mortal creature so that she could better protect Harry. Aziraphale continued to suspect that Dog-the-mongrel was actually a hellhound but Crowley refused to confirm or deny the suspicion—confirming it by doing just that as it happens when Dog-the-mongrel later leaps through a wall of fire to protect Harry from a possessed DADA professor.

[23] Crowley admits to Aziraphale later on that it had been kind of fun but it was really intended to cause a little more chaos for the other members of staff. It did, but Aziraphale isn’t fooled. Crowley is a big old softie when it comes to kids and Aziraphale knows it.

[24] Some of the worst offenders are, as to be expected, the Weasley twins. They seem to be capable of the impossible in regard to what is and is not possible with spells, charms, potions and so on. Aziraphale has an ever-growing list of what the Weasley twins have managed to do to the books they’ve taken out of the library. He has had to issue an ultimatum to them; if they wish to use a book, they cannot take it from the library but instead ask Aziraphale to make a copy of the relevant sections for them to use. Unfortunately for Aziraphale, he was overheard stating this by a group of Ravenclaw’s and now he’s miracling up entire books almost for students to use. It’s a good pastime however and he can include it on his monthly memos to heaven for what miracles he’s performed lately.

[25] Crowley’s test is simple: tell the snake not to eat you. Aziraphale’s is more about logic and books and figuring out which book is the best kind of book to read up about philosophy and philosopher’s stones. Naturally, Hermione would know the answer to Aziraphale’s test but since it is after Crowley’s… well, Harry can refuse to let her go with him since she’d be eaten by a snake that likes to eat people who can’t Talk Snake.

[26] At the same time that Crowley snaps his fingers, his wings curl back within his being and are, once again, no longer visible on the mortal plane. This is a good thing considering what happens next.

[27] Aziraphale, knowing that Crowley was once Raphael and was tricked into Falling by a very dickish brother by the name of Lucifer, smirks at him with that smug look he has when Pomfrey says that. Crowley gives him his best glare but the effect is ruined by the amusement in his serpentine eyes. Eyes he has given up hiding around Hogwarts after he was pestered by a dozen students who were Amazed By Them and thought they were Wicked Cool.

#Good Omens #Good Omens Spoilers #Ineffable husbands #Crowley #Aziraphale #An Angel and a Demon together #HP #Harry Potter #Absconding with Harry verse

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maplesamurai · 5 years

Text

The Witch’s Apprentice, Ch. 9

The day had finally come. Just three months ago, peasant farmboy Arthur Butcher had watched his sister Morgan fall ill from the deadly White Plague, and with the bad harvest his family had suffered through, they did not have the funds needed to treat her illness. However, Arthur had heard tell of the mysterious Witch of the Woods, who was said to work powerful magic that could cure such ills, and so, against his family’s wishes, he ventured into the Dark Forest just beyond the nearest town. He found this Witch, and after telling her of his plight, she agreed to cure his sister, but only if Arthur agreed to a lifetime of servitude to her, beginning on the coming Winter Solstice. Though not an easy decision, Arthur accepted those terms, and his sister’s life was saved.

It was now the eve of that Winter Solstice. Arthur had just said his goodbyes to his family, and now sat across the raven haired Witch herself, an unearthly beauty of statuesque height and skin as pale as moonlight, who peered at him with eyes of glittering amethyst as she explained to Arthur what tasks she needed of him for his first night as her servant as they shared tea together.

“So let me get this straight,” Arthur said in between sips of his tea, “you need me to gather potion and ritual supplies for the Solstice tonight.”

“Correct, my child,” the Witch replied as she sipped her own tea casually. “The border between your world and that of the spirits tends to thin around this time of year, so there is much I will need your help for. Truth be told, your service would have been useful during the past Autumn Equinox for the same reasons, but I imagine you preferred being able to spend that time among family.”

“Oh, yeah I did. Thank you for considering that.”

“You are very welcome, my child. I hope you have no regrets of how you spent the last days of your old life?”

“Not a one,” Arthur answered. “But you might have already guessed that, since I gather you’ve been keeping a close watch on me all that time?”

“Do you?” the Witch chuckled. “And how do you gather that?”

“I remember how you changed into a raven to fly back here after you’d left that parting gift of yours. Ever since that day, I’ve been noticing a lot more ravens and crows looking at me between then and today. Am I just paranoid, or were you just keeping an eye on me all this time?”

“Both,” the Witch answered him simply before taking another sip of her tea. “I had used that form a few times since while I was traveling on other business, and I will admit I may have checked up on you a few times while doing so, but not as often as you might think.”

“Like at the town gates while we were selling our grain after you healed Morgan?”

“I caught sight of you and your family’s wagon heading into town as I was flying overhead, and I thought I’d keep an eye out to see how the sale of your wheat would go. I’d thought you suspected my identity when I saw you looking up at the town gates back at me. But I saw that the day’s transactions went well for you, so I needn’t have bothered.”

“And what of the other times you were ‘checking up on me?’”

“I only did so two other times. The second time I did so was during autumn, when I caught a glimpse of you running out to fetch water from your well, before I had to veer out of the way to avoid a harpy in royal courier gear who had only narrowly missed flying right into me. I noticed that she landed quite near you to make a delivery, but you seemed to be fine, so I decided that I need not further pry into your business. And for the third, it was earlier this month when I was already flying home after checking up on some business in the village of Greenwood to the west, so I flew over your town to see you taking a stroll with your family. You seemed to be doing well for yourself, so I did not linger for very long.”

“So, it was just those three times, then? But I could have sworn I was being watched the whole time…”

“That would be simple paranoia, my child. You see, from what I’ve observed, mortals tend to be quite uncomfortable with the reality that we live in a random, chaotic universe where bad things can happen for no reason at all, so to cope, the mortal mind will often see patterns where none exist.”

“I see…” Arthur sighed, not sure whether that made him more or less comfortable than if he had been watched this whole time. “Getting back to the subject at hand, what will tonight’s tasks entail, exactly?”

“Oh right, how silly of me to forget! Fortunately, quite a few of the tasks I will need your help with shall be things you should be mostly familiar with. For example, I trust the Solstice tradition of decorating one’s home with holly and ivy is one you know all too well?”

“Yeah, it is. So it’s true when people say that those plants ward off evil spirits?”

“Well, that is a gross oversimplification, but not too far from the truth,” the Witch admitted with a shrug. “And the important part is that my line of work greatly benefits from having a good working relationship with the local fae and spirits, so it helps to observe such customs.”

“I see,” Arthur said, despite not fully understanding what the Witch could mean by that, but given what he had signed up for, he figured that he would learn these things for himself soon enough. “So what else will we be doing out in the forest tonight?”

“Again, most of tonight’s tasks should be familiar to you as common Solstice traditions, even if they are not exactly like the versions you are familiar with. Aside from gathering plants you recognise as common Solstice decorations, one of the more important tasks for tonight is the hunting of a boar for sacrifice.”

Arthur nodded. Being from a village of farmers, he was used to just raising a boar in the family barn for sacrifice like they would any other pig, but he had heard of the older tradition of hunting wild boar for that purpose. But did the Witch hold to the older traditions, he wondered, out of reverence for said traditions, or simply because living deep in the forest made it a more convenient option for her than for his family?

As if reading Arthur’s mind, the Witch explained further, “I suppose I could simply raise a boar in my own stables over the year for the sacrifice, but I’m afraid the gods and spirits that dwell here tend to be rather old fashioned in that regard, so they are more easily appeased by conducting the sacrifice the traditional way. And at the end of the day, going out for a simple hunt every Winter Solstice is far less of a hassle than drawing the ire of that sort, so I’ve never had the need to ‘get with the times,’ as it were.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” Arthur said nervously, wondering what kind of gods could hold power in the Heart of the Forest that even someone as powerful as the Witch of the Woods would go out of her way to avoid their ire.

“Other than that,” the Witch continued, “we will also be conducting far simpler errands. I have admittedly been neglecting to gather wood for the hearth, for example, so we will do well to remember to do so tonight. We are also running low on certain provisions in the pantry, so we may need to gather such things as well. Specifically, I have found we are running low on plums and redcurrants, so please keep an eye out for those…”

The Witch continued listing tasks that they may need to do for tonight’s excursion, and Arthur noticed a common theme to all of them that struck him as odd. The holly, ivy and boar could all be written off as Solstice traditions that directly concerned the Witch’s work in supernatural matters, but the need for plums and redcurrant, and needing to stock firewood for tonight specifically when she easily could have gotten it any other time struck Arthur as things one would do for a Solstice party… but he was still coping from parting with his family after all, and with their last Solstice party fresh in his mind, he was probably just seeing connections that weren’t there, as the Witch had said of his earlier suspicions.

“But you need not worry about such things until later tonight,” the Witch reassured Arthur as he finished the last of his tea. “We have plenty of time to spare until nightfall, so perhaps you may like a tour of the cottage to pass the time? You shall be living here for the foreseeable future after all, so it could not hurt to learn your way around the property sooner rather than later.”

“Sure, I’d love to, Miss,” Arthur answered as he set his now empty teacup down on the plate.

“Then let us not dawdle,” the Witch said as she stood up from her chair and beckoned Arthur to follow her. “I would bring your bags as well, so that you may drop them in your new room when we get to that part of the tour.”

As soon as Arthur had stood up and picked his bags off of the nearby chair, the Witch set out to giving him a tour around her cottage. Among the rooms Arthur was shown around the cottage, many were too large for all of them to conceivably fit in a house of this size (just like what Arthur had observed of the main room itself during his first visit, so that much remained consistent). In the hallway leading to the tower, Arthur was shown the pantry and the broom closet, the latter’s contents being so surprisingly mundane that Arthur nearly forgot that he had seen them move on their own when the Witch commanded it. Beyond that, at the base of the tower itself, lay the kitchen, with the Witch being sure to show Arthur where everything was kept for whenever she would need his help in preparing a meal.

Before showing Arthur up the tower stairs to lead him to the rooms above, however, the Witch led Arthur through the back door to show him the outdoor facilities around her property. Many of these were what they appeared to be from a first glance, such as the water well and the horse stables and the vegetable garden, while others, such as what appeared from the outside to be a simple henhouse, were far more than they seemed, such as the above example containing what was essentially a full barn on the inside, housing a menagerie of various beasts ranging from what Arthur would normally tend to back on his family’s farm, to creatures he had only seen in books, or had never heard of at all.

Next, the Witch led Arthur back through the tower door and up the stairwell to the tower proper. The first floor above ground level was exactly the kind of facility Arthur would have expected from a witch’s cottage: an apothecary for potion-making. The entire floor was taken up by said facility, filled with the pungent smell of various herbs and organs boiling in the cauldron over the fire. Throughout the room stood wooden tables carrying various kinds of alchemic equipment, including braziers, mortars and pestles, and bottles and other containers both empty and filled with potions and herbs seemingly ready for use, though Arthur knew better than to try them to make sure. Lining the walls were shelves upon shelves filled with all sort of strange herbs and other ingredients for such potions.

“It’s important to keep these separated from ingredients for food,” the Witch explained as she was showing Arthur around the room, “as many of these materials can be very dangerous to imbibe without being properly prepared first. As you’ll learn soon enough, the bulk of potion brewing entails carefully preparing these ingredients before any of them so much as come near a cauldron.”

The next floor up was a workshop that, at first glance, seemed uncharacteristic for the practice of witchcraft. A large cast iron forge stood in the corner, with several smithing tools hung on the wall and a work desk near the forge stood with several weapons and tools laying atop it in various stages of completion. Arthur scanned the rest of the room, and found that it was not just a forge. There were workspaces and tools for weaving fabric, working leather, carpentry and woodcarving, glassblowing, jeweling, and all other sorts of crafts. Arthur could imagine how some of the trades accommodated by this workshop could be of use to the Witch; after all, when the two first met, she had named weaving her own clothing as a reason why she did not accept monetary payment for her services. Even the forge Arthur could accept as being necessary for maintaining any tools she might need for yard work or the like, but he was still surprised to see she would have the tools used by a jeweler lying around her house.

Trying to inquire on the above thoughts as diplomatically as he could, Arthur commented, “This is quite the expansive workshop he have here, Miss.”

“Well, I am flattered for you to think so,” the Witch replied. “When you live alone in the middle of the woods as I do, it certainly helps to be self-sufficient, so I like to have the proper facilities around in case a tool I use in my day to day life needs maintenance, or I need some new clothes, or the like.”

“I would imagine so,” Arthur said, still thinking of the best way of how to ask what some of the stranger facilities in this room were for, “but there seem to be other sorts of tools and such that, well… I mean to say-“

“…that you did not exactly picture me using?” the Witch finished for Arthur with a knowing grin.

“Well… yes, that is a way of putting what I was wondering…”

“Well, in my line of work, occasionally one is called upon to provide a magical boon in the form of a weapon, tool, or some other form of item. I trust you have heard tales of brave heroes going to a wizard or witch for a magical item to aid them on their quest? Well, where do think we come to possess such wondrous items to give those adventurers in the first place?”

As a matter of fact, Arthur had heard many such tales in his life, but it had never occurred to him to question where all these magic swords and other such relics came into the possession of the wizards or faeries who bestowed them to the hero of the story, much less the notion that said wizards and faeries had just made them themselves, although it did make a certain amount of sense now that the prospect had been raised to him.

“Contrary to what most laypeople assume about magic,” the Witch continued, “we cannot simply conjure such things out of thin air, so it helps to have the facilities ready to craft such things ourselves, especially if, like myself, one lives so far out of the way of most people that commissioning a middleman to do the work of crafting is not as feasible an option. Fortunately, I have lived more than long enough to learn the many trades needed for such work.”

“That makes sense,” Arthur said. “I can’t imagine living long enough to master all of these trades myself, though.”

“No need to worry too much about that, my child,” the Witch reassured him. “You only need to pick up enough to be able to lend a helping hand, and you will have more than plenty of time to learn that much. Now then, shall we continue? Our next stop on the tour concerns you far more directly anyhow.”

“It does?” Arthur asked, and despite suspecting exactly what said next stop was, inquired further, “How so?”

“Well, my child,” the Witch said to Arthur as they exited the workshop and ascended another flight of stairs, “follow and you shall find out.”

When they had arrived to the next floor, the Witch stopped at the door and opened it, telling Arthur, “This, my child, is your room.”

Arthur cautiously walked into the room where he would be staying for what would likely be the rest of his life. What we saw when he walked in was a large circular room made of stone that seemed to take up the entire floor space of the tower (seemingly without being bigger on the inside as most of the cottage had been), with an empty work desk and bookshelf below a shuttered window opposite the door. From the left hand side of the door where Arthur had entered, stood a wooden dresser below a wall hung mirror, with a tall wardrobe just beyond it. To Arthur’s left, halfway between the door and the window, stood a large wooden bed covered in a fur blanket, opposite of a fireplace of its own cut into the wall.

“I hope it is to your liking?” the Witch asked Arthur from behind the doorframe.

“Yes, it is,” Arthur said sincerely, amazed to find a room larger than any in his old house to call his own.

“Well, I am glad to hear that,” the Witch said with a smile. “Since you’re here, why not lighten your load and leave your belongings in here before we continue with your tour? You should have plenty of time to put things away in their new places once we are done.”

“Oh,” Arthur said as he wandered around the room to get a good feel of where he would be staying for the years to come, “that sounds like a good idea.”

Having made it over to the desk near his window, Arthur placed the larger of the bags he was carrying down upon it, which had been filled with his clothes and decorations for his room. The pack he wore across his back, filled with equipment he thought he would need out in the forest beyond these walls, he continued to wear as he headed back towards the door, a fact that did not escape his mistress.

“Are you not going to put that one down as well?” the Witch asked curiously.

“Well,” Arthur began to explain, “this is where I’ve kept things I’ve thought might help me in excursions out in the woods like tonight, so I thought I’d keep it on me so I have it all ready when it’s finally time to go out.”

“I think you would have more than ample time to retrieve such things when the time comes without hauling them around all day,” the Witch said to Arthur, “but if that is your decision regardless, I see no reason to argue with you.”

“Thanks for understanding, Miss. Where are we off to next, then?”

“Back down to the cottage, of course,” the Witch answered as she turned to descend back down the stairs, soon followed by Arthur.

Having finished with the tower rooms, the two returned to the cottage foyer, the balcony above which held the doors to every room Arthur had not yet visited.

“If you ever need to find me and I am not elsewhere in the house,” the Witch began as they walked up the staircase to the balcony, “feel free to knock on my bedroom door here, and if I am in, I will come out as soon as possible and help however I can.”

The Witch gestured towards the nearest door to the top of the staircase, a simple wooden door adorned with the same green symbol that now marked the palm of Arthur’s hand, though seeing it carved onto a door gave Arthur no clearer idea of what said symbol was supposed to be.

“Just please keep in mind not to enter unless I permit it,” the Witch gently warned Arthur, before continuing, “Now, since we’ve gotten your tour all finished, shall we have a quick dinner before we head out?”

“But wait,” Arthur asked his mistress, pointing towards the other doors on the balcony as she began to descend down the stairs to the foyer proper, “what about those other doors?”

Pausing for a moment, the Witch simply turned back towards Arthur and said with a smile, “Oh those? Nothing you need concern yourself with yet, my child. In due time your duties may entail what lies beyond those doors, but that is still a long time away. Come along, now. I’ve been preparing a lunch for us to have before we go out for your first task as my servant. It will likely be valuable for you to build your strength before we go out proper.”

Somewhat worried by that last statement and what the Witch was implying that this excursion would entail, Arthur cautiously followed her down the stairs.

O – O – O

Until the moon rose into the sky, the day went far less eventfully than Arthur would have expected his first night living in a Witch’s cottage to go. First, Arthur and his new employer shared a hearty lunch of beef and mushroom stew, during which she shared with him a tale of an outing of hers. Arthur found it to be quite an interesting tale, even if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around some of the details (even despite everything that had happened to Arthur recently, a merchant’s caravan pulled by a giant talking bird that thought the cart it was pulling as its child sounded quite far-fetched indeed).

Not feeling particularly keen to set foot in his new room while the time for bed was still so far away (as he felt it would only remind him how his old life was truly gone), Arthur instead passed the time by taking a seat in front of the fire and getting started on reading the book of wild monsters and spirits that his Uncle Melion had given him as a parting gift the previous night, as he felt it would certainly be wise to read up on such things before the time came to venture into the Dark Forest that night. Hours went by as Arthur read of the migration patterns of dragons, how to recognise the marked territory of a manticore, and how to best avoid disturbing a kobold den. But for all Arthur read as the hours passed, he had not even read halfway through the book by the time the Witch had returned to the foyer to fetch him for the night’s work.

“Moonrise is nearly upon us, Arthur,” the Witch told him as he looked up from his book, “I would advise getting ready for our excursion as soon as you can.”

“Oh, of course,” Arthur said as he closed the book and stood up from his chair. Opening his bag, he placed the book back inside, while removing items he was sure he would need on his person for such an excursion. The first of these was a hooded lantern; the same one that he had taken with him to light his way through this same forest those four months ago, and the flint and steel with which to light it. The other supplies he brought out of the bag, however, he had acquired only one night previously, as parting gifts from his family. To one side of his belt, he tied the sheath containing the curved foraging knife that his father had gifted him; to the other, the scabbard that held the iron sword that his Uncle Melion had given alongside the book that Arthur had just put away. He then walked over to the coat hanger near the door to put on his winter coat, and over it, wore the green cloak given to him by his mother; both of which he was sure he would need on a snowy night such as this.

Arthur looked back to see if his mistress was preparing as well, but when he laid eyes upon her, he found that, somehow, she had already changed out of her linen gown and into a black fur coat and winter boots, with a stuffed satchel tied to her hip, without him even noticing.

“You’re changed already?” Arthur asked in shock. “How did you do that?”

“Simple, my child,” the Witch chuckled. “I took everything I needed to wear for the night’s excursion, and put them on. How else would I change?”

“Well… not as fast as that?”

“Really?” the Witch replied, sounding somewhat puzzled. “I fail to see how getting ready for work slower would help us get our work done faster.”

Not knowing how else to respond, Arthur just quietly said, “I guess that’s a fair point…”

“I’m glad you agree,” the Witch said with a smile as she strode over to the door. “Now, shall we be off? The sooner we can begin, the sooner I can show you the ins and outs of safely navigating the Heart of the Forest. And if the state I found you in when first we met was any indication, such a lesson would be invaluable to you, so we would do best not to dawdle.”

“You just had to bring that up too…” Arthur sighed, feeling he would never live down that particular misadventure at this point. However, as he began to turn his head towards the door, he thought he saw the shadow of a person in the corner of his eye somewhere towards the kitchen, but when he looked back to make sure, whatever he had saw was gone.

“Is something the matter, my child?” the Witch inquired as she placed her hand on the knob.

“I thought I saw someone over by the kitchen,” Arthur admitted, “but I might have imagined it.”

As she opened the door, the Witch assured Arthur, “I can assure you, my child, that we are the only two people in this cottage as we speak. So now that we have that cleared up, shall we depart?”

With a nod to his new employer, Arthur walked out of the Witch’s cottage and into the snow blanketed forest clearing outside, with the Witch herself soon following as she closed the door behind her.

“Now Arthur,” the Witch began as she descended from the front step and caught up with her new servant, “come along so we can begin the night’s work. I remember spotting some mistletoe hanging from a tree not too far from here while I was on my walk last night, so that is where we shall start. Be sure to follow close behind me and not to stray from the path. These woods are no safer in the dead of winter than they were that autumn day we met.”

And with that, the Witch began walking into the forest surrounding her cottage, and with only a scant moment to hesitate, Arthur followed, on the first of what were surely to be his many nights working as the Witch’s apprentice.

#witch #witchblr #fantasy #fantasy writing #original fiction #the witch's apprentice #my writing

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thebeauregardbros · 6 years

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character development meme???

we can call it that i guess alus~

[blank template here]

- Basic Information -

-How old are they? Do they look their age?

Since he is an orphan, it is unknown. By estimate by both his appearance and how small he was when he was adopted, he is thought to around 22~24 years old.

-What is their gender identity? (optional: what is their physical sex?)

Male for both. He’s confident enough in his identity that he’ll happily wear dresses and high heels and flaunt his feminine interests openly, but feels uncomfortable if people actually believe him to be female, or try to project an image onto him as being frail or fragile - mostly because it’s just not true.

-What is their race? Do they follow in the footsteps of their ancestry with respect? Do they even care about it at all?

Alus is a Miqo’te of what appears to be sunseeker descent, but he really could care less about his blood lineage. He respectfully thinks of himself as an Elezen because that’s who raised him. He doesn’t know much about his real lineage at all and he’s pretty at peace with that.

-How do they make money? (What’s their occupation?)

Two thirds military duty, one third cafe ownership. He also gambles a bit on the side (generally successfully) to the point that he has regularly owns a bit of an excess of coin. He tends to spend that excess rather quickly though as he has a tendency to be rather generous with tipping and giving beggars charity... and well, really loves clothes and stuff to spruce up his cafe with.

- Speech Patterns -

-How do they generally speak about themselves or refer to themselves in conversation?

Alus surprisingly actually doesn’t talk about himself often despite acting rather narcissistic, albeit in an exaggerated and goofy way that others could perceive as self-aware. If he does gives information about himself it tends to be rather surface area information about his cafe or fashion tastes. You may actually find him talking about his brother more than himself! To people he’s comfortable with, he might allow them to explore philosophical questions with him that trouble him, exposing a more serious side of his that may seem uncharacteristic to others.

-How do they tend to address others? Family, friends, coworkers, strangers, enemies, etc.

To those he admires (usually fancy ladies and elegant male elezen), he is a complete mess of stammering and gibberish. If he somehow manages to speak clearly, he compliments; and oft times those may be perceived as a bit ‘too much’; confessing his love for others he’s only just met (though he usually means it platonically), praising the little he knows about them endlessly and inadvertently derailing any preexisting situation/conversation.

To those he feels more lukewarm towards, he just tends to be very polite and open minded even at the most outrageous and criminal things he hears, and willing to repay their words with deep personal thoughts of his own - always overall positive.

To those he considers enemies, (or more specifically those who he considers an immediate threat to the safety of others,) he’ll become self-righteous and very quickly impatient towards them. He’ll start off questioning your uncouth behaviour, wondering if it’s possible he’s just misinterpreting it - then he will patiently remind you that that is not gentlemanly/lady-like behaviour. Then he’ll start becoming passive-aggressive as all hell - still with a polite smile on his face, but eyebrows furrowing more and more. The second you hear him audibly say an actual swear word at a normal speaking volume is when you should be terrified. Shortly after his formal speech and eerie smile may actually continue, but he will speak bluntly of his feelings. Something along the line of “If it were not for my worth as a gentleman, I would have happily smashed your face in by this time.” If someone isn’t literally holding him back by shortly after then, he will act out in violence to forcefully stop your behaviour. Don’t worry though, he won’t kill you or otherwise permanently injure you if he can help it, and afterwords he will actually willfully forgive you -- that is, only if you act like a proper gentleman/lady like he’s been imploring you to be this entire godsdamned time.

To his brother, it’s a combo of the latter two; He is very openly critical of his bad behaviors, but also very supportive and admiring of him. If Alus hears of anyone badmouthing his brother, he will be there in full fledged defense and won’t back down until he implores them to either change their mind or generally stop being so negative. Because they are brothers, however, Alus may not talk about his personal feelings much with him much (he feels a bit awkward being mushy with him), but he still trusts him more than anyone.

-Do they have any strong opinions about certain groups? Political, religious, independent or otherwise, even very small.

Alus tends to dislike all politics. Even politics that seem to have wholly good intentions, he is extremely wary of them turning out wrong in the end - he’s seen betrayal and deceit happen far too many times to still be optimistic in such matters. He views more organized religions to be not too different than politics, particularly the church that worships Halone - a deity he finds no comfort in her representation of War. He finds himself picking and choosing what he believes in now more than he used to - he thinks of religion as a very personal thing and doesn’t care much for hearing others’ opinions on his favorite deities beyond those he can trust in his view to be good people.

- Personal History -

-How skilled are they in combat?

Alus’ greatest weaponized combat skill is in using a large shield to bash, overwhelm, and pacify. Though he has learned some basic one-handed sword skills for his qualification as a Free Paladin, if he had to choose to fight, his preferred offensive style it would be that of the fists. He believes that it is the most honorable way to fight somebody if at all - oftentimes risking his own hands in doing so. As of this time he knows a lot of mixed martial arts but hasn’t landed on one certain style of fighting to dedicate himself to. (At some point I’m gonna IC try to find someone who’ll teach him Brazilian capoeira. not even sure how the heck that’d fit into Hydaelyn lore??? help) Alus is also grand at the swift skills of dancing - he is surprisingly light on his feet and very deft, making dodging and fancy footwork in battle a piece of cake for him.

For non-physical skills, Alus is a skilled field medic above all else. He is knowledgeable of a wide variety of herbs and potions, well experienced in conjury and even versed in some obscure Sharlayan astrology that heals - he’s tried his best to become attuned with anything that has to do with healing he can find. He wants to save everybody. He does not believe in fighting at all, despite it being a job he begrudgingly takes.

-Any non-combative skills?

Having grown up on the street & the road, Alus became a skilled street dancer with his brother when they were young for the purpose for some extra pocket money. As they grew older, Alus’ passion for dancing never really wavered. His favorite type of dancing is ballroom dancing, but he hardly ever has the chance to dance with a partner.

Alus knows how to brew tea pretty well. Not an expert, but knows more than most people. He can cook a little too! .. mostly just pastries and stovetop breakfasts, though.

He knows when to stop when it comes to gambling.

Can play the piano! Nothing expert or incredible, but good enough for the simple soft songs he adores.

-Anything they’re really bad at?

He can’t sing, good lord, he cannot sing. He’s absolutely tone deaf, and he screeches at random?? it’s so bad. (secretly he’s amazing at screamo, and he’ll probably never discover this)

Sex jokes go MILES over his head. Actually, a lot of common informal speech stuff goes over his head. He’s absolutely the type of guy to answer without hesitation “What is updog?”

Oh yeah, he’s also really bad at solving even simple mysteries. His imagination tends to be too overblown and romantic that he keeps thinking ‘It can’t be that simple or mundane!’

spEAKING TO PRETTY PEOPL E

-What would you call their personal aesthetic to be like?

Fashion wise I’d call it ‘shiro aristocrat’. White clothes with a very classy and royal, princely feeling, but more mature than ‘ouji’ Japanese fashions (pressed long slacks instead of poofy shorts). He adores flower motifs, and wears as many live and fake flowers at all times as he can manage (especially gardenia and white lilies). He adores suits, the ‘gentlemanly’ aesthetic, and .. Well, hell, he’s basically a shoujo prince. He’s got a white horse and long blonde hair and everything. He knows this and adores it. His style is overall masculine and suave but also soft and feminine. He loves bright happy colors and white, he feels they bring good feelings into the hearts of people who see them.

-What kinds of cuisine do they like and dislike?

His favorite food is La Noscean Toast, his favorite morning drink is Triple Cream Coffee, and his favorite dessert is... constantly changing! (his ‘dessert snack’ choice is an orange lmao)

He’s got a raging sweet tooth he has to keep under lock and bar - a huge passion for fluffy pastries and citrus-y candy. (Not so much for dark, heavy, bitter chocolate!)

Alus is a bit of a picky eater on his own! He tends to generally dislike any heavy meals (for example; deep-fried and/or heavily cheesy stuff OH THE HUMANITY). He’s slow to try foreign foods or new food in general (tho he does love rice) - I feel like he’s the type of guy who organizes a menu that’s well balanced for health and sticks to it his whole life whether he particularly liked how bland it tasted at first or not. He doesn’t eat meat so he balances his protein intake with tons vegetarian alternatives of of nuts, yogurt, eggs, tofu, seeds, etc.

If you cook him a meat dish, he’ll go to insane lengths to make sure it’s not wasted - looking for the nearest homeless person, anyone, to enjoy the meal. Besides meat dishes, he’ll absolutely eat anything you prepare for him though because he’s far too polite to tell you you wasted all that energy for such a nice gift for him! Always the optimist, he’ll probably try to convince himself by muttering “this is probably good for me in... some way..” lmao

-What about alcohol?

He’s fiercely against alcohol - really wants nothing to do with it, thinks it’s the poisoning of the body and super unclassy for your image and harmful to your spiritual growth and blah blah blah .. But he has absolutely drank a spiked punch on accident on more than a few times. The only way to make Alus consume alcohol is if it’s sweet enough that he can’t tell it’s alcohol. While intoxicated, Alus becomes much more like his brother - blunt, straightforward with his feelings, using informal speech, even saying some straight-up swear words without hesitation - but he’s also very confident and happy in the sort of ‘playful-fighting frat bro that loves you’ sort of way. During and after intoxication, he refuses to vocally admit he was/is under the influence of alcohol. It seems like he genuinely doesn’t know/remember it, but it could be that he was/is just embarrassed.

-When it comes to love and romance…

Alus is wholly inexperienced, doesn’t really understand the difference between platonic and romantic love. He believes in his heart that everyone is a good person, and in that, he universally loves and appreciates everyone in their own way and will say this out loud bluntly & relentlessly. He’s very ‘innocent & pure’ in the sense that he doesn’t even really think about kissing someone’s lips until he’s made the decision to someday marry them (which he would most likely do without knowing them too well!). When it comes to physical flirting, Alus’ brain just kinda breaks. He’s totally confused and shocked at himself for thinking of such sinful thoughts!.. when all he’s really thinking about his touching their hand or something LMAO. Overall, he really just over-romanticizes close relationships in a manner of good old fashioned lovely gentleman & lady courting, and doesn’t dare think of anything further without a straightforward consent from his partner.

-How do they feel about sex?

I should disclaim that despite Alus’ views on romantic relationships, he’s is definitely not too innocent to know how people do it, and it’s not like he’s thought about doing it himself, but his general feelings towards the subject is “don’t ask, don’t tell” and “it’s none of my business or concern!” For other parties’ sexuality, he doesn’t really approve of revealing clothing or outwardly sexual behaviour in public, but as long as it’s in the name of love and respect (whether for yourself or with someone you care for) he still supports it wholeheartedly - but will probably just try change the subject anyway. For himself, he feels really uncomfortable with anyone making physical contact with him or seeing him underneath his clothes, whether the context is casual or flirtatious. When dealing with someone he likes but whom he isn’t in an official relationship with, his brain just 404s in embarrassment when it comes to sexual stuff and he doesn’t really know what to do. Giving straightforward consent to him, however, and I feel like he’ll be a lot more forward in touching you than you’d expect. He’ll always be respectful though and stop when you tell him to.

THAT BEING SAID as a writer I actually regard Alus as asexual. I think he regards sex as an act of the symbolism of love more than an act of pleasure. He’s never really been told about asexuality before and even if he was it’d probably take him more experience to fully realize for certain he’s ace.

- Personality -

-Come up with three key words to describe this character.

Gentleman, goofy, heartache.

#meme #alus beauregard #WELCOME TO MY RAMBLING HELL #TOOK ME LIKE A WEEK ... I LEGIT TRIED TO MAKE IT SHORT WHY AM I LIKE THIS #HHHGJDHKSFJ

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