keep castle

5 Years of Wrecking
Week 4: Core Four Week  
Date: 23 November, Thursday: Headcanons 

I have quite a few for today. 

A fun headcanon I thought of that is entirely because of Booth and Brennan on Bones is this: the Core Four dancing to the 1978 song “Hot Blooded” by Foreigner. I just liked the thought one day while listening to the song and was like YEAH. They dance to this song.

In addition to that, I asked for some headcanon topics/prompts and I got a couple of prompts:

From @bunnikkila: A prompt: the Bakery was one of the places Ralph and Vanellope really started bonding. How does it fit into their lifestyle as a group?

Hmm. I can totally see Vanellope suggesting that the group make their own karts. Like, everyone has their own karts that they keep like, in the Castle garage, with like her kart. I can totally picture Felix having a blast doing that and Tamora loving the little bakery guns. Plus I bet the bakery is a good place to have a nice snack, too. I lowkey kinda want Tamora to have kart that she has for like, quick travel through Hero’s Duty, too.

I wonder if you can eat the karts you make too??? That’s a fun thought! Them baking something together so they can then eat the thing.

Since these two are thematically similar I’m including them together:

From @bashfulgnome: what happens when everyone gathers for holidays / how they celebrate / traditions (Core Four)

From @dannybird22: Core four headcanon about cooking for the holidays!

It wasn’t until I sat down and looked at both of these on 22 November, the eve of Thanksgiving, that I realized, wow, how appropriate it was that for the Core Four Headcanons day, it happened to fall on Thanksgiving. And that I would get holiday-based prompts for headcanons. And also: WIR2 comes out the day before Thanksgiving 2018, so that’s cool.

All right.

Given that I doubt Litwak would be open on holidays like Thanksgiving or Christmas, the Core Four definitely has a few days off for the holidays.

I definitely think that these four would spend these days together. They’re a family. None of them ever really had that chance before to celebrate with others (except Felix, maybe) for the holidays. So, the holidays are probably super special for them. I can definitely see them having a huge meal together for Christmas and Thanksgiving. And they’d have to have a huge meal because I mean… some of them are pretty big.

I lowkey kinda like the idea of Mary sort of cooking for them. And maybe that’s what happens at first. Also, I realized that given that early November is when the first movie was released (which is essentially when the events of the movie happen), their first Thanksgiving together (Thanksgiving in 2012 was 22 Nov) would have been just less than 3 weeks after the events of the movie (2 Nov and 23 Nov, this year’s Thanksgiving are 3 weeks apart this time around). They probably were like soooo do we have Thanksgiving together??? We are? Okay! So that’s happening then! And then, here they are being fed by Mary, and having a lowkey Thanksgiving together 3 weeks after the Battle of Sugar Rush. They probably enjoyed themselves and Felix was super great and welcoming. I could certainly see them having a toast that is essentially, to their new family, to them.

I could see as the years go on, Mary helps less and less with their cooking. Both Christmas and Thanksgiving. Mary probably brings a several desserts for them, though. But they probably get to a point, several years on, where they do their cooking themselves, and have a blast. Tamora would totally cut up the turkey, because she’d like that. Vanellope probably just wants to eat the pies. Everybody is probably super happy and thankful that they have each other. I can certainly see them expressing loads of thankfulness.

Christmas? I can see them going wild. So many presents. They probably have a family celebration just the four of them and then go to bigger parties within their home games and maybe even Game Central Station. Vanellope is super thrilled and has a bunch of fun. They overindulge her because of course they do. Everyone’s super cool with doing that.  

I could see the four of them making their own traditions for their holiday celebrations. Like some of them are typical of what most people do (presents, dinner, parties), but they probably do things that are specific to them. Like, maybe they wreck and fix stuff together, or go shoot cybugs, or go kart racing together.

Oh, and Tamora and Felix totally kiss when the clock strikes 12 on New Year’s.

Last time I read Howl's Moving Castle I made a list of all of the things Howl calls Sophie and here they are

Outspoken old woman

Nosy old woman

Dreadfully nosy, horribly bossy, appallingly clean old woman

A terror

You overactive old thing

That one-woman force of chaos

Dear Sophie

My good Sophie

Rude as well as a bully

Sophie dear

Dear Sophie

Mrs Nose

Sophie dear

Busy old fool, unruly Sophie

Mrs Nose

Mrs Moralizer

Mrs Longnose

Mrs Snoop

That fool Sophie

Crashed landed on Earth and all I got was this rad shirt from the back of Coran’s minivan.


Great Britain: Castles - Caernarfon Castle, Eilean Donan Castle,  Broughton Castle, Warwick Castle, Stokesay Castle, Pendragon Castle, Nunney Castle, Lindisfarne Castle, Orford Castle 

-for more  of my UK shots and more travel:travel britain european travel world travel UK travel London travel

By the time we got to Weathertop, Tolkien had me. ‘Gil-Galad was an elven king,’ Sam Gamgee recited, ‘of him the harpers sadly sing.’ A chill went through me, such as Conan and Kull had never evoked.

Almost forty years later, I find myself in the middle of my own high fantasy, A Song of Ice and Fire. The books are huge, and hugely complex, and take me years to write. Within days of each volume being published, I begin to get emails asking when the next is coming out. “You do not know how hard it is to wait,’ some of my readers cry plaintively. I do, I want to tell them, I know just how hard it is. I waited too. When I finished The Fellowship of the Ring, it was the only volume out in paperback. I had to wait for Ace to bring out The Two Towers, and again for The Return of the King. Not a long wait, admittedly, yet somehow it seemed like decades. The moment I got my hands on the next volume I put everything else aside so I could read it … but halfway through The Return of the King, I slowed down. Only a few hundred pages remained, and once they were done, I would never be able to read Lord of the Rings for the first time again. As much as I wanted to know how it all came out, I did not want the experience to be over.

That was how fiercely I loved those books, as a reader.
—  George R.R. Martin, discussing “the ancestors of Ice and Fire” in “The Heirs of Turtle Castle” from Dreamsongs

elennare  asked:

First, I wanted to say that I love love love your Harry Potter fics and what-ifs! thank you so much for writing them :) And I also wondered if you ever written what if the Dursleys had refused to take Harry in?

When Petunia Dursley refused to take Harry in she forfeited his birthright protection, so Dumbledore took the baby to the safest place he knew: Hogwarts.

The applicable staff (mostly just… not Snape) took Harry in on a rotating schedule as he grew from baby to toddler to child. They traded extra credit for babysitting among the older students, and Harry grew up knowing a few dozen different laps that were safe and warm to nap in.

This was a Harry who grew up among books, among old transient walls and learned professors. They gave Binns night duty sometimes, and let him talk young Harry to sleep. This was a Harry whose world changed, on principle, daily. The stairs moved. The walls became doors. You had to keep your eyes open–you had to pay attention. So he did.

He grew up in a school. Knowledge was power, but knowledge was also joy. This was his sanctuary. There was magic in his world from birth.

“The castle will keep him safe,” said Dumbledore, when McGonagall came into his office to complain for the eighth time about Albus’s rather cavalier take on child-rearing. “That’s what it does.”

Then why do we bother with chaperones ever,” McGonagall said, tempted to shriek it. “Should we let all the children run about willy-nilly at all hours, or just the orphan waifs?!

“He’s not a student. He’s a ward of Hogwarts. It will take care of him, Minerva.”

McGonagall walked off fuming. A cat with spectacle markings followed Harry almost constantly from ages three through four. At some point McGonagall was far enough behind on her paperwork, and had seen enough suits of armor carry the kid back to his room, enough draperies lift off the wall and tug Harry away from edges, and enough stairs creakingly shift their slope for his tiny toddler legs. She gave a grumpy sigh, stole some of Albus’s lemon drops, and resigned herself to a magical world.

The Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower, didn’t really like boys but she liked children. She especially liked patience, and politeness, and Harry had been raised by McGonagall’s stern table manners, by Victorian portraiture and quite a few House Elves. He said please, thank you, and ma'am, and as a child he was very cunning in how he got bedtime stories and bedtime snacks out of most every adult he met.

The Grey Lady told the best stories, you see, the ones with riddles in them. You had to think and ask questions to get all the way through them. So he hunted her down with big patient eyes and plates of very smelly cheese, and she told him stories that made him think.

When Harry was stable enough on his feet to walk, and then to run, Sir Cadogan would race him through the castle, the knight scattering banquet tables and galloping across landscapes, twisting through the abstract gallery up on the seventh and a half floor. Harry stumbled and sprinted up stairways and didn’t notice for years the way Cadogan waited at the end of corridors for him to catch up.

Harry was a chubby-legged toddler, in this world–cute cheeks and stubby limbs. It’s a cute image, yes– but this is important. He was a chubby kid. He ate in a high chair on the teacher’s dais, getting peas and mashed potatoes on the adults beside him– Sprout laughed. Snape didn’t.

But this is important–Harry filled his plate. He wobbled up on little legs and grabbed biscuits from the table, slurped his soup, got marinara sauce on his chin and forehead and somehow behind his ear. When he was hungry, he ate. If he snuck down to the kitchens at night, it was for the adventure of it and nothing else. When he was hungry, he ate.

When he was four, they started letting him go sit down with the students. Bill Weasley, on route to be a prefect next year, took him under his wing and scrubbed his face down after meals. Harry was passed around the Hufflepuff table; theirs was the House Common Room he most liked sneaking into, with its barrels and cozy warmth. Nymphadora Tonks turned her nose a dozen different shapes to make Harry laugh, gurgling, as a toddler (and then a child) (and then for the rest of her life, honestly–it never stopped being funny).

The whole Ravenclaw table got distracted from meals, trying to solve riddles from a book one of their Muggleborns had smuggled in.Harry pushed his fork through his gravy, trying to draw out his thoughts but only making squiggles.

It was years before Harry sat at the Slytherin table for the first time–no one had ever set him down there, like they had with the others. But he liked green–it was the color of Professor Sprout’s greenhouses, where he went and napped sometimes in winter. It was the color of his mother’s eyes, from the little book of moving pictures Hagrid had given him when he was three.

All the Slytherin kids seemed big, but everyone Harry ever met seemed big–except for Flitwick, who was seeming smaller with every growth spurt. He leaned forward, teetering on the bench, and grabbed a chicken drumstick. “Hi,” he said, because he’d had a childhood full of tea parties with high portrait society– the French nobility and the tired housewife from the third floor and an old witch with her sleeve on fire but very particular table manners. “I’m Harry. What’s your name?”

By the end of the meal, they were flicking peas across the table with their spoons, like catapult projectiles. Harry had been unwelcome in so few places in his life, after he’d left 4 Privet Drive, that he simply didn’t expect it. He asked Warrington, a Slytherin with shoulders like a bulldog’s, to help him with the juice, which was too unwieldy for his kid-sized wrists. Harry sat there blinking, smiling, until Warrington took the jug and poured him a brimming glass.

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Friendly reminder that Sam Winchester is strong asf

He dealt with hallucinations for months and when Cas took them on he went into a coma. I REPEAT, It put an ANGEL OF THE DAMN LORD into a coma.

Coran never joined in when the team used the pool.
He wouldn’t even be in the same section of the castle in case he ran into one and was invited along.
It wasn’t that Coran was ashamed of his body.
After all Alteans were shapeshifters so he could fix anything anytime but decided he liked his current form.
He avoided the Paladins because Coran knew that if any of them asked his to join in, there would be no way he could say no.

“Hey Coran want to come swimming with us?” Lance asked.
He had noticed Coran had been left out of the fun and wanted to fix that.
Coran cursed under his breath as he turned from cleaning the pods to smile at the blue paladin.
“Thank you for the offer my boy but I’m afraid someone has to keep the castle in working order.”
Coran realised he said the wrong thing, knowing Lance he would drop everything to help him clean instead of enjoying himself. So he quickly cleared his throat and added “also… I can’t swim, I would prefer not to be near the pool.”
Realisation spread across Lance’s face “oh sure no problem… though if you change your mind I can always teach you?”
“Perhaps one day.” Coran waved Lance off as he turned and he couldn’t help but stare.
Stare at the real reason e could bare to swim with the others.
To see their exposed skin and the too many scars on ones so young.
He particularly couldn’t bare to see the pale burn scar across his back that is only there because Lance put Corans safety ahead of his own.
Coran believes himself to be a strong man…
But he’s not strong enough to see the pain his children went through in the line of duty and the marks that would forever decorate their bodies as a testament to their many sacrifices.

tv used to be my escapist hobby and a way of helping me de-stress from all my problems but now it’s just making me Distressed