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dyrewrites · 9 months

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Pale Blood - Side Characters and More

@starbuds-and-rosedust suggested I add Den and Ron to my shared character notes.

Ask and You Shall Receive!

They're not quite as fleshed out as the "Heroes", but there's stuff in there that's useful anyhow.

I have notes for a few others too (whose roles will be given away by the title of the section they're in but meh), and I'll toss them in too.

So here are more character notes!

Their Friends

Ron (Lerone Mitael)

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, honey…but you’re at work.”

The ghoul that runs the bloodbank. He’s fine, most normal of the lot really. He’s perpetually in his 30s, as that is when his body died, but he’s actually much older. Unfortunately, thanks to a rather long stint of starving to madness—and being locked in a dark, dank hole for it—he’s not sure how much. Ron is 6' 1" with blue eyes, short curly black hair shaved on the sides and a perfectly trimmed goatee—there is a reason they are always in perfect order and never mussed, but he'd sooner die again than tell. He has a muscular build and will lie about using spray-on color, but he is absolutely darker skinned than a slum-bound dead guy should be. Odea has a picture of what he looked like when he was alive, that she nabbed from an old file, and it is clear that Ron has been trying to keep that appearance up. It’s just hard, what with death and the smog trying to pale him.

He doesn't leave the bloodbank, not because he can't but because it isn't safe—for a few reasons. Ghouls are illegal outside Upper Dolor. Because they degrade, mentally, and he's been hanging on through increased meals but stimulation causes stress and stress causes rage and if he is overstimulated he might frenzy. So he stays inside, where he can keep some control of himself and where the world outside can keep safe from him. He’s the first one to notice something is amiss, because Ron is an observant guy that spends too much time around lunatics. He is also the only one working at the bloodbank who is aware of the sub basement, and its freezer, where unclaimed dead are stored. For him. There’s a good reason Ron works for fangs and it’s not the money—though he’d argue Del is a close second to the food.

Den (Morden Drenkal)

“We may share blood and flesh, but we aren’t family.”

Den is 38 and, while fangs age slow, wolves age fast which makes him ancient to his pack—it’s more a cultural thing than a literal one, he was expected to start a subpack and attempt to take over more of the slums in the name of the wolfmother some twenty years prior, but Den does not ascribe to pack mentality, would prefer to mate for love and kids bother him. He’s roughly 5’9” —a fact his siblings mock as all of them break 6’—with fiery orange eyes, rich black hair that he keeps in a braid down his back, and a muscular physique—in a sinewy sort of way. He bares the distinct tanned skin and hairy everywhere of all Wolves—even in human form they are rather fuzzy. His arms, chest and legs are the furriest but there’s a well-trimmed path leading from belly button down that he takes great pride in. He’ll never speak of how often he lasers the hair off his face and back, or which older sister helps him do it, but most of his siblings mock him mercilessly for this act—save his youngest, who adores him and is the only kid he'll put up with.

Den is not looked at as much of a fighter, and has lost many battles with his younger brother, but he is faster than the average wolf—stronger than the halfie fang—and fights with a ferocity his mother once praised. He’s lost much of that fire, due to losing faith in his pack, but he is still a force to be reckoned with when pushed. He attacks teeth first when he attacks at all and has a grip stronger than all but his eldest sibling.

--this bit is what I wrote before he showed up in the manuscript, to explain his side of the 'how we met' scene--

He went to Luster to let off steam, to take some semblance of control in a life he felt was spinning out of it. That is where he saw him. He knew what he was when the light caught on an oversized fang, it poked out of lips that longed to pout and Den felt shame mingling with his lust—but he had a bit more of his mother in him than he would admit to. He’d not seen many fangs in Luster, not so soon after sunrise and never one that looked so warm and welcoming. Most went in for the wiry villainous look, all bluster and flash but no bite, no bulk, nothing to grip.

Den wanted those big arms around him, wanted to run his fingers through that mousy hair and cover those soft cheeks in kisses. He would play along with whatever tricks the fang pulled—as they always did—to lure him upstairs. To the beds that waited, for a reasonable fee, for those that came to worship at the feet of moaning Gods. But damn if that fang wasn’t comfy. Too comfy. He was sweet too, not in words but action…intent. Den didn’t want to let him be a one-time thing. He wanted to hold him, to know him, to learn why those beautiful hazel eyes were so dull and misted.

Frienemies

Bosch (Boschkori Nor Brume)

“I didn’t do it for you, where’s my blood?”

He’s an old fang, at around 96, give or take a…century—he’ll never tell—but he looks no more than 45. Current Boss of the slums with aspirations of joining the ivory boys in Upper Dolor. He’s a pitbull of a man-thing, short and stocky at about 5’2” but all muscle with smog-pale skin, a shiny bald head and fierce golden eyes. He’s gruff in attitude but impeccable in appearance. Pocket-size mobster with a fetish for ghosts and ghoulies that he’s pretty sensitive about discussing.

He’s an outright dick to Delmas about 90% of the time, like most of the fangs, but actually has a lot of respect for his hustle and has been working toward getting him to take over for him some day—he’d never tell him that though, too much bad blood lingering from when his dad was in charge. As much as Delmas hates being his bitch, he actually doesn’t mind Bosch so much and trusts him above the other fangs. He’s run him hard, but he’s never lied to him or given him a reason not to trust him.

Bosch' Toys

He's a tinkerer and self-proclaimed engineer with a specialty in magitech—which is not a term anyone but him uses. He likes to combine magic and technology in pursuit of easy to use devices that he can use to combat other supernatural critters. Mostly other fangs but he has an arsenal of anti-ghost equipment and knows more about wolf biology than they do. He makes frequent trips into the Wylds, dragging thralls with to meet the required entry quota—though he often leaves alone.

Nash (Fornash Drenkal)

“I ain’t afraid a you, fang.”

Wolf heartrunner and Den's younger brother. He’s 7’4”, around 18, though in human form he’d pass as late-20s. He hits up morgues and hospitals for the recently dead what might not need their hearts no more and brings them to the Wolf Boss—his mother, who is the mother of all wolves. He and Del have history, as the tentative agreement their respective little gangs hold is a new one—and Nash has a personal dislike of fangs due to serious mommy issues. Nash is not terribly eloquent in any of the forms he can take, but he is big and he is scary and very good at what he does. He’s also superstitious, devout to Mother Night and absolutely oblivious to what is actually going on at any given moment. Not the Wolves’ brightest, but he’s not paid to be.

Nash’s bark is worse than his bite, but his bite is nothing to sneeze at. However, it’s the claws that one has to watch out for. He fights more like a bear than a wolf and packs a punch; a sharp and slicing punch, which could take out a truck if he needed it to.

Shit-list

(there's only one fleshed out on this right now and currently only one scene with her, but she does show up again)

Mitzi Tru (real name unknown)

"I know what you got for him, honey…and it ain't nothing you'll ever give me."

Degenerate witch—as most Daughters of Sister Twilight—turned degenerate poltergeist. She's on the shit list, especially after what she does in the manuscript, but she was more friend than enemy once. Delmas knew her when she was alive, albeit he was a literal child at the time and didn't understand what the hotel she ran was actually for. Or why the only women in it seemed to work there. There were men there too, however, and he would discover things about himself in the Dahlia as a teen because of it.

Mitzi was always a bit pushy, had her favorite "boys" and wasn't good with sharing…but death did a number on more than her looks. How she died is no mystery, but she forgets frequently—which is why Bosch is still allowed in her hotel. Did it have something to do with a teenage halfie accidentally being left alone with a predatory older woman? Delmas has no memory of it, he was drugged at the time, but Bosch remembers it with crystal clarity. It wasn't his gun, but it was there and he knew how to use it. The cops then were paid well, or frightened better, and the body was never found.

Mitzi didn't get to move on—Daughters never do. She got to stick around and watch the fangs squat in her place and sometimes a flicker of memory ignites and she rages. If any women enter her hotel, scavengers out for what's mine, she rages. It's not the best place to do business, but it is the prettiest in the slums...and there's such a fine dungeon beneath that Bosch can't stand seeing go to waste.

Truelle (Truellear Fel Myra)

Sister of Dusk, Bloodbriar Coven, age 55. 5’3”

Lyrna (Lyrnassi Hal Sura)

Sister of Dusk. Bloodbriar Coven, age 50. 5’10”

Lulu (Lulusara Drenkal)

Wolfmother, appears to be in her early 40s in human form. 9’6”

To anyone’s recollection there has never been another wolfmother and all wolves can trace their lineage back to Lulu. No one knows how old she is. Even she has forgotten.

---

Taglist:

@rmgrey-author

@ruinmegently

#pale blood #urban fantasy #writeblr #Mitzi is mostly important for what she is not who she is and also I love her because she is absolutely terrible #character profile #meet the characters #side characters #frienemies #love interest #the witch what stole Odea's kitty is not on here for reasons #those reasons being I don't know if she's going to redeem herself yet

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ginnyw-potter · 2 years

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Deathly hallows au where Harry rescues Ginny from Malfoy manor after she’s tortured with everyone else?

Harry to the rescue? Gotcha :)

3K words, also posted on AO3 and FFNnet

Harry could feel Ron shaking. They were forced down a steep flight of stairs, still tied back-to-back and in danger of slipping and breaking their necks at any moment. At the bottom was a heavy door. Greyback locked it with a tap of his wand, then forced them into a dank and musty room and left them in total darkness. The echoing bang of the slammed cellar door had not died away before there was a terrible, drawn-out scream from directly above them.

“HERMIONE,” Ron bellowed, and he started to writhe and struggle against the ropes tying them together, so that Harry staggered.

“HERMIONE!”

“Be quiet!” Harry said, “Shut up, Ron, we need to work out a way-”

“RON?” Ginny came from the darkness, followed by Luna. Harry, Ron and Dean all turned to look at the two as they came up to them.

“Ginny?” Harry said first. Ginny returned a piercing look but said nothing. She approached them and started untying their ropes, ordering Luna to do the same.

“Hang on,” Luna said.

Hermione screamed again from overhead and they could hear Bellatrix screaming too but her words were inaudible, for Ron shouted again.

“HERMIONE!”

Ginny moved to stand before her brother.

“Shut up,” she told him firmly. Only then it seemed to sink in that his sister had been captured.

“How did you get here?” he asked her worriedly.

“Raised too many problems at Hogwarts. Neville managed to escape to the Room of Requirement but they got me… then I got here and found Luna…” Ginny explained. Luna had picked up a nail to try and tear up the ropes.

“And Mr Ollivander is here too…” Ginny added, nodding towards the end of the cellar. Luna managed to untie Dean and Griphook. Dean thanked her and Griphook sunk to the floor, barely conscious. A few seconds later, Ron and Harry too were freed.

“Hang on,” Ron said, going into his pocket. He took the Deluminator out and clicked it. Several orbs of light flew out, remaining to float against the ceiling, having no place to go. Finally, they could see each other properly.

“You look awful,” Ginny told Harry with a hint of a smile.

“Hermione thought it may help not get me recognised,” Harry explained his swollen face. She nodded.

“Looks like it worked, or you’d already be dead. But I have to say it is looking pretty grim anyway.”

Ron was trying to apparate until Luna stopped him.

“Trust me, we have tried everything,” she told him. Hermione screamed again, it was piercing and excruciating. Ron looked as though he was going to cry. Harry’s scar was prickling painfully but he tried to ignore it. Frantically he took out Hagrid’s pouch. He pulled out the Snitch, hoping it would do anything but it did not. The mirror fragment fell sparkling on the floor, and he saw a gleam of the brightest blue-

‘Help us!’ he yelled at it in desperation. ‘We’re in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, help us!’

The blue eye blinked and then disappeared. Harry picked up the mirror, wondering if he had dreamed it. The mirror was only reflecting the cellar now, no matter how he turned it. Hermione’s screams continued to worsen and Ron screamed in turn.

Bellatrix’s screams could be heard as she tortured Hermione, asking her how they got into the vault.

“No, the sword is fake!” Hermione sobbed. Lucius ordered Draco to come fetch the Goblin. Harry kneeled beside Griphook.

“Griphook- you have to tell them it’s a fake. Please, Griphook, they can’t find out.”

Draco had reached the end of the stairs and ordered them to stand against the wall. Ron clicked the Deluminator. Draco came into the cellar, determined and grabbed the Goblin, dragging him out of the cellar. As the door closed, Ron clicked his Deluminator again. A pop was heard and their eyes fell on Dobby, who had appeared in their midst.

“DOB-”

Ginny covered Ron’s mouth to stop him from shouting and Ron looked terrified at his mistake. Overhead they could hear Draco march towards Bellatrix, dragging Griphook along.

Dobby stood there, eyes wide, trembling from his feet to the tip of his ears. He was back in the home of his old masters, and it was clear that he was petrified.

“Harry Potter,” he squeaked, in the tiniest quiver of a voice, “Dobby has come to rescue you.”

“But how did you-?”

An awful scream pierced their ears: Hermione was being tortured again. He cut to the essentials.

“You can Disapparate out of this cellar?” he asked Dobby, who nodded, his ears flapping.

“And you can take humans with you?”

Dobby nodded again.

“Right, grab Luna, Ginny-”

“No, I am not going before we get Hermione,” Ginny interrupted him. Harry looked at her, begging. They exchanged looks and Harry nodded.

“Fine, take Luna, Dean and Mr Ollivander and take them to, uhm-”

“Bill and Fleur’s,” said Ron. “Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth.”

Harry turned to Dobby, “Can you do that?”

Dobby nodded again.

“And then come back to us?” he asked.

“Of course, Harry Potter,” whispered the little elf. He hurried over to Mr Ollivander who appeared to be barely conscious. Dobby took his hand and then held his hand out to Luna and Dean.

“Harry-” Dean begged, “We can help.”

Luna nodded in agreement. Harry shook his head.

“We need to get you somewhere safe. We will see you at Bill and Fleur’s.”

Harry’s scar burned and suddenly he stood before a different wandmaker, who was taunting Voldemort. For a second he felt Voldemort’s fury but he shut it out when another one of Hermione’s screams rang in his ears.

A loud crack could be heard as the group disapparated and they heard it above too.

“What was that? In the cellar?” Lucius shouted. Harry, Ron and Ginny stared at each other. They were about to be found out.

“WORMTAIL!” Lucius ordered. They could hear footsteps but it was silent otherwise, it appeared they were listening for more noise from the cellar.

“We have to tackle him,” Harry whispered. Ginny and Ron hid against the wall and Harry stood in the middle of the room, facing the door.

“Stand back,” came Wormtail’s voice, “Stand away from the door, I am coming in.”

The door flew open. Wormtail and Harry met eyes. Then his eyes flickered to the three flying orbs. Ron and Ginny launched themselves at him and Harry closed in too. Ron seized Wormtail’s wandarm and forced it upwards, Ginny grabbed his other arm and Harry covered his mouth, muffling his voice.

Silently they struggled, Wormtail’s wand emitted sparks and his silver hand closed around Harry’s throat to Ginny’s horror, no matter how hard she worked against it.

“What is it, Wormtail?” called Lucius from above.

“Nothing!” Ron called back, in a passable imitation of Wormtail’s wheezy voice. “All fine!”

Harry could barely breathe. “You’re going to kill me?” Harry choked, now also attempting to prise the fingers off his throat. “After I saved your life? You owe me!”

The silver fingers slackened. Harry had not expected it. Ginny managed to pull the hand backwards. Harry took a deep breath, keeping his hand over Wormtail’s mouth. He saw the rat-like man’s small, watery eyes widen with fear and surprise: he seemed just as shocked as Harry at what his hand had done, at the tiny, merciful impulse it had betrayed, and he continued to struggle more powerfully as though to undo that moment of weakness.

“We’ll take that,” whispered Ron, tugging Wormtail’s wand from his other hand.

Wandless, helpless, Pettigrew’s pupils dilated in terror. His eyes had slid from Harry’s face to something else. His own silver fingers were moving inexorably towards his own throat.

“No-”

Without pausing to think, Harry tried to drag back the hand, but there was no stopping it. The silver tool that Voldemort had given his most cowardly servant had turned upon its Disarmed and useless owner. Pettigrew was reaping the rewards for his hesitation, his moment of pity; he was being strangled before their eyes.

“No!”

All three of them released him, trying to pry his hand off his throat but to no avail.

“Relashio!” Ron tried, Wormtail was turning blue. Hermione gave a most dreadful scream as Pettigrew fell to the floor. His eyes rolled backwards into his head and he stopped moving. They took a second to look at each other before running up the stairs and into the passageway leading to the drawing room. The door was ajar and they had a clear view of Bellatrix as she stood over Griphook. Hermione was at their feet and she wasn’t moving.

“It is a fake,” they heard Griphook say to their relief.

“Are you sure?” she panted. The goblin nodded.

“Yes.”

“Good,” she spoke, the tension leaving her face. She slashed another deep cut into his cheek with a flick of her wand. With a yell, he dropped to the ground.

“Now, we call the Dark Lord!”

She pushed back her sleeve and touched her forefinger to the Dark Mark.

At once Harry’s scar felt as though it had split open.

“I think we can dispose of the Mudblood now,” Bellatrix spoke and Harry forced himself back into his own mind, “Greyback, you can have her back.”

“NOOOOOO!”

Ron had burst into the drawing room, Ginny had been unable to grab onto him to keep him from running into the room. Harry and Ginny shared a look of pure horror.

Bellatrix turned around in shock and pointed her wand at Ron.

“Expelliarmus!” Ron roared, pointing Wormtail’s wand at Bellatrix, and hers flew into the air and was caught by Harry, who had sprinted in too. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ginny crawl towards Hermione in the chaos.

Harry yelled “Stupefy!” and Lucius collapsed on the hearth. Ginny took the opportunity to yank Lucius’s wand out of his hand. They all had to duck when Greyback, Bellatrix and Narcissa fired off more spells. Ginny had nowhere to hide. She managed to take out Narcissa and then ran to Draco. Bellatrix Disarmed Harry. Ginny made it to Draco and gave him a well-aimed hit on the head. Harry reached them and pulled Draco’s wand out of his grasp as Draco attempted to regain his balance. Ginny yelled ‘Protego!’ as she covered Hermione with her own body, to protect her from more harm.

They knew they were losing.

“NO! Stay away from her!” Ginny yelled as she tried to kick off Greyback who approached the both of them.

Suddenly there was a peculiar grinding noise from above. All of them looked upwards in time to see the crystal chandelier tremble, then, with a creak and an ominous jiggling, it began to fall. Ginny dragged Hermione to the side but she could only get so far before it came down. Glittering shards of crystal went flying in all directions, the Goblin getting the worst of it.

Ginny dragged Hermione further and Harry came to help to move her. Ron grabbed the goblin and they all met at one side of the room. Dobby appeared in front of them.

“Dobby!” Narcissa screamed and even Bellatrix froze. “YOU! You dropped the chandelier!”

Dobby bravely lifted a finger.

“You must not harm Harry Potter and his friends!” he squeaked.

“Kill him, Cissy!” shrieked Bellatrix, “How dare you harm your masters!”

“Dobby has no masters!” he squeaked, “I am a free elf and I have come to save Harry Potter!”

Harry’s scar hurt. Dobby held out his hand and Harry took it. Ginny took his other hand and Ron held onto Harry, carrying the Goblin.

There was a blur of flying silver as they apparated and Harry could see Ginny reaching for it in the darkness.

Harry repeated the name of their destination over and over and trusted Dobby to deliver them safely.

And then they hit solid earth and smelled salty air. Ron lowered Griphook safely to the ground when a piercing scream could be heard, coming from Ginny. Bellatrix's knife had pierced entirely through Ginny’s arm and had made a small cut onto Dobby’s chest. Harry realised if Ginny had not reached for it, it could have easily pierced the small elf and he would have been mortally wounded. Harry shook his head at the horrific thought. They all made it here alive.

Harry squinted through the darkness. There seemed to be a cottage a short way away under the wide, starry sky, and he thought he saw movement outside of it.

“Miss Weasley!” Dobby gasped in horror. Hermione was barely conscious, lying beside Ginny. As Ron went to check on Hermione, Harry went to Ginny.

“Don’t pull it out,” Harry warned Ginny. She was barely breathing through the pain and she looked as though she may faint.

“Merlin,” Bill said in shock as he neared them. Harry lifted Ginny off the ground into his arms. Bill went to pick up the Goblin. Ron supported Hermione, who was starting to come to. Harry rushed inside and Fleur met them at the door, following them into the sitting room. Dobby followed behind them, worried about the girl who had bothered to safe a house-elf. Hermione entered after. Ron set her down in the armchair. Dean and Luna appeared now too. Ginny was writhing on the couch at the pain in her arm.

Harry gasped as his scar burned again. Harry viewed how Voldemort punished those at Malfoy Manor. It was a blood bath.

“Luna? Hold ‘er other hand,” Harry could hear Fleur ask. A piercing scream brought Harry back to the present as Fleur pulled out the knife. Ginny looked incredibly pale, holding onto Luna’s hand as Fleur started to heal the wound. Harry was worried she was going to bleed out, but he may not be given Fleur enough credit.

Bill brought out tea for everyone. Ron was speaking softly to Hermione. Harry’s head was pounding as he took the tea from Bill.

Hallows… Horcruxes… the obsession he had before had left him entirely tonight.

When Ginny’s arm was mended as well as they could, Fleur wrapped it and moved to Hermione. Bill went to check on Mr Ollivander and Griphook upstairs.

“Dobby,” Harry spoke softly. His big eyes turned to look at Harry.

“Yes, Harry Potter?” he squeaked. All the while he had been observing Ginny.

“I cannot thank you enough. Truly. You are a free elf, you are free to go,” he told the elf. The elf gulped.

“If you do not mind, can I watch over Miss Weasley for a while? She did save my life.” Dobby blinked as he spoke. Harry smiled softly.

“Of course. Do you need to have that fixed?” Harry asked, pointing at the small cut across his chest. Dobby shook his head, his ears wiggling as he did.

“I am quite alright.”

Bill entered the room again and they all looked up. He gave an affirming nod.

“They’re alright.”

He came to check on his sister.

“My little sister, how did you end up at that place?” he asked, baffled but also trying to lift the mood. Ginny sat up now that she had regained some colour.

“Raised too much hell at Hogwarts. Of course they wanted to keep me close, I am much too interesting to get rid of,” Ginny said, her eyes briefly flickering to Harry. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. After all the efforts he went through, it had not mattered.

“Well, the rest of the family is safe at Muriel’s now. They know both of you were with Harry- don’t apologise,” Bill added at the sight of Harry’s expression. “It was always a matter of time.”

****

Harry would often go out and look over the sea to escape the crowded cottage. Ollivander had been moved to Muriel's and Dobby had taken his leave again, he only popped in once in a while to check in on Ginny, who he was entirely charmed by. Still, there was Bill and Fleur, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, Ron, Dean and Griphook.

“Luna and Dean will soon leave to Muriel’s,” Ginny informed him as she came to sit beside him at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the sea.

“You should go too,” he said. It was one of the first moments they were alone together.

“Are you sending me off with my ex-boyfriend?” she tried but Harry knew she knew that wasn’t what he meant.

“You should stay safe,” he spoke, refusing to look at her.

“So you can take off and look for more Horcruxes?” Ginny shot at him. Now he had to look at her. In explanation she showed the extendable ears, having no remorse. Harry sighed.

“You can’t join,” Harry tried. Ginny huffed.

“Don’t you get it? They’re after me anyway,” Ginny spoke. Harry knew he wasn’t right but he could not admit it just yet. Harry tried to divert her attention.

“I don’t want Dean to-” he said now.

“Oh this has nothing to do with Dean and you know it. Besides, I did talk to him. He said he had bigger things to worry about than us. He wishes me the best, but you already knew that,” she argued. Harry did know, Dean had always been quite gracious about him and Ginny.

“I can’t believe they captured you and because of me-” Harry started but Ginny shot him down again.

“Because of you, I am still alive. They would have not hesitated to kill me otherwise, I was raising far too much trouble at Hogwarts, keeping the DA going with Neville. They kept me alive because I could be useful to them,” Ginny told him.

Harry ran out of reasons.

“So we may as well enjoy the time we have together, who knows how long that’ll last,” she said, it was true the future was looking rather bleak. Harry turned to her, his eyes soft.

“You want to join, you’re sure? It is not a walk in the park,” Harry asked, reaching out to touch her arm. He wanted her to join, truly he did but it was not without reservations.

“Can’t be worse than what I came from,” she replied with a soft smile.

Harry suddenly let out a sob.

“I’ve really missed you,” he spoke. Ginny pushed onto her knees and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Me too,” she spoke softly, caressing his hair.

***

“Aww!” Luna exclaimed as she watched the two hug from the kitchen window. Bill looked up from the dishes too. At that moment Harry leaned in to kiss Ginny.

“Right, now that’ll ruin my sea view,” Bill pretended to be exasperated. Dean walked into the kitchen.

“What ruins the view?” he asked but then his eyes fell on the pair outside. He judgingly looked at Luna and Bill, shaking his head. “You are the worst, give them some privacy!” “This is my house!” Bill objected.

#hinny #harry potter #ginny weasley #fic request #deathly hallows #I realise this isn't 100% what you asked but I hope you like it!#harry x ginny #dobby lives!AU

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morgansmornings · 4 months

Note

🤝

This Meme: Accepting @ronmanmob

~~~*~~~

So In real life, Jayden and I share a similar hair colour naturally. Though I have more natural highlights in varying shades from blonde to red and it is lighter. Weird fact, my hair turns black when wet. Don't ask how, because I don't know . Currently my hair is longer than hers, and usually kept down to my hips in length.

An Example of my hair mostly dry from a few years ago.

#Please Leave a Message | Answered Ask #Answer from the Mun #Danke Ron!#ronmanmob

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ala-baguette · 2 years

Text

Somewhere She Could Not Follow

POV Hermione Granger

DH: Harry is lost in Voldemort's mind, and Hermione is on her own.

3.4k words; Originally posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34993156

____________________________________________________________

Hermione’s arms tightened around herself subconsciously as she listened to the creaking of the steps as Harry and Bathilda Bagshot retreated upstairs. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like it one bit. Harry seemed confident and unwavering. It was both admirable and infuriating when he was like that. Either it would lead to him doing something incredible or lead to him getting himself killed. She was never sure which. Splitting up seemed like an absolutely terrible idea. She wished Ron was here, if only so she wouldn’t have to wait alone. She wondered where he was now. If he had made it home safe. Then she reminded herself that he had left them. Left her. He had made that choice. He didn’t deserve to have her worrying about him. Still… she wished she didn’t have to wait alone.

She took in a deep breath and let it out, rubbing her hand up and down her arm, more to comfort herself than because of the cold. But it was cold in this house. Cold and dark and dusty and dank. And dear God, what was that smell anyway? It reminded her of raw meat tossed in the bin with rubbish pickup still days away. Her eyes roved around the room and fell on the bookcase. She moved over to it, partially in the hopes of seeing something useful, but mostly because she invariably found comfort and distraction in books. A part of her mind registered the sounds of Harry and Bathilda entering a room upstairs and a door closing behind them. No, she didn’t like this at all. Her eyes roved around the books on the bookcase. Most were old history texts. Like everything in the house, the books were coated in dust. All save one. This one was not stashed away neatly upright like the rest. This one was lying out flat. As though it had been recently acquired and was still waiting to be perused. Hermione reached out and picked it up. She recognised it immediately. The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, by Rita Skeeter. The binding of the book was un-cracked. Hermione doubted Bathilda had even bothered to open it once. The glossy clean cover was a stark contrast to everything else in the shabby interior of the house. She ran her fingers over the cover thoughtfully. Then Hermione’s eyes fell on a note sticking out the top. She slipped the piece of parchment out curiously. It was a neat rectangular sheet of paper emblazoned with spiky, acid-green writing.

Dear Batty,

Thanks for your help. Here’s a copy of the book, hope you like it. You said everything, even if you don’t remember it.

Rita

Hermione felt her face screw up in disgust. God, but she hated that woman. What manipulations had Rita Skeeter done to this poor old woman’s mind, all to write a book aimed at defaming someone who had always strived to do good? Strived to help Harry. Before she could even begin to speculate, her eyes jerked up to the ceiling. A dull thump had just sounded above her, then a clatter as something small and wooden— a pencil perhaps?— fell and rolled away across the floor. She frowned, uncertain, tucking the parchment back into the book. Then there was a crash of something shattering and another sound as though a body falling hard to the ground. “Harry?” she called, alarmed. The only answer she got was another thunk. Something was wrong. Something was very very wrong. Panic was flooding her brain as she flew to the stairs, the book still tucked forgotten under her arm. On the first floor landing, her feet skidded, and she almost pitched into the banister as she took a sharp turn to the right in the direction of the commotion. She blasted open the door without a moment’s thought. And then her eyes widened in abject horror. The bedroom was dark, but the light from the landing cut a sharp streak across the wood floors. And across Harry. He was on the ground, his fingers desperately grappling with a gigantic snake which was coiled around his chest, crushing the air from his lungs. “Relashio!” Hermione cried. The snake was blasted off of Harry. Harry sat up, gasping for breath. But Hermione couldn’t reach him. For, between them, she had suddenly found herself face-to-face with an exceedingly angry snake. It reared back to strike at her. Hermione raised her wand, but the snake was too fast. She shrieked and dove out of the way of its striking fangs just in time. She had tried to get off another curse, but it rebounded and hit the window with a shattering of glass. She landed wrong and jarred her shoulder against the dresser. Gasping in pain, she cowered against the wall as the snake writhed and swayed, trying to pick out its next target. Harry was grappling for his wand off the floor. Hermione looked around for Bathilda to be sure she was alright, but she was nowhere to be seen. The snake was preparing to strike again. Hermione shot off a knockback jinx and it went flying across the room in a flash of red light, clearing a path to Harry. The snake fell in a heap, hissing wildly in fury. They had to go. She had to get to Harry. But a terror was filling her heart too completely for her to manage to move to him. Because in that moment, Harry was shouting “He’s coming! Hermione, he’s coming!” And she knew who he meant. The snake was flailing everywhere, smashing shelves from the wall. Hermione ducked and shielded her face as splintered china flew in her direction. Harry was diving over the bed in her direction. Oh, God. He’s coming. Harry grasped her injured arm and yanked her to her feet. She yelped as he pulled her across the bed, but the pain served to wake her from the panic that was fogging her brain. The snake was lunging at them again. “Confringo!” Hermione cried. But there must have been some sort of protective enchantment on the snake, because again her spell was ricocheting around the room. It exploded the wardrobe mirror and sparks flew back toward them, narrowly missing her. And then he was there. She saw him sweeping into the room, tall and cloaked, long white hands drawing a wand. Hermione screamed in terror. But Harry was already diving out the broken window, heedless of broken glass slicing across fragile skin. And he was dragging her along with him. And as she Disapparated, clutching onto Harry as though their lives depended upon it (because indeed they did). Hermione heard the cloaked figure behind them screaming with fury.

The screams warped into strange sounds as they Apparated. And then Hermione felt her knees make hard contact with the ground. She fell to all fours, gasping— struggling to catch her breath and trembling all over. Voldemort’s furious screams were echoing terribly inside her head. She forced herself to sit up and take stock of where they were. And she could have cried with relief as her eyes fell on a familiar tent. “Harry,” she gasped. “Harry, we made it. We’re home.” But something was wrong. Voldemort’s screams were still sounding. It was not just in her head. It was here. And Hermione felt her eyes widen in horror. He had followed them! She whipped around, panic filling her heart once again. But it was not Voldemort screaming behind her. It was Harry. The Polyjuice Potion was wearing off and her friend was lying there, staring at the sky and screaming. “Harry!” she gasped diving for him. He was hurt. There was blood everywhere. But as the scream died on Harry’s lips, she realised something else was wrong. That had not been a scream of pain. That had been a scream of fury. Of frustration. Of murder. And never before had she heard such a sound from Harry’s lips. She froze, staring down at her friend. Blood and some strange foam were oozing from what appeared to be a bite wound from the snake on Harry’s arm. Numerous shallow cuts covered his face and clothing from the glass of the window. But it was not his injuries which were giving her pause. It was his face. He was staring up blankly at the sky, but she felt sure he did not see it. He was drawing deep breaths in through his nose as though filled with rage. And then he began to speak. And the voice that came from his lips was not Harry’s. And yet it was. “Yes. Run away, little child. I could kill you. One simple movement and you would never reach your mother. But unnecessary. Quite unnecessary.” “Ha—Harry…?” Hermione stammered. She had never heard anything like this voice. It was Harry’s voice. But it was not. It was twisted and cruel and nothing like Harry’s. And yet it was his. And it was filling her with a fear such as she had never felt. It was a different kind of fear than she had experienced back in the house with the snake. There was nothing she could compare this terror to. “I can see the house.” A cruel smile curled up Harry’s lips. “At last. The Fidelius Charm is broken. They haven’t even drawn the curtains. Such fools to place their trust in love and friendship,” he laughed to himself. “Harry!” There was pleading in her voice as she called to him. “Harry, what are you talking about? There’s no house. No Fidelius. Harry!” But he was silent, staring up at the sky, his eyes narrowed as he studied something that she could not see. He was quiet long enough that she began to think that maybe he was coming out of it. She crawled closer. But then he spoke again in not-Harry’s voice. “Yes. Share your final game with your brat, James Potter. Send him off to bed and bid him sleep well. For he will not wake to see the sun again. Neither of you will.” Every muscle in her body was shaking uncontrollably. Tears were freely flowing down her cheeks, but she could not be bothered to brush them away. “Ha-Harry. Harry, please come back. Wake up.” She reached out a trembling hand to grip his shoulder, shaking it hard. She almost couldn’t bring herself to touch him. But this was Harry. Somewhere in there, this was Harry! His response was to laugh. A high-pitched terrible piercing laugh that made her blood run cold. “You plan to hold me off without a wand it your hand? What a fool.” And then he drew in a deep breath, still smiling and cried, “Avada Kedavra!” Hermione yelped and jumped to her feet as green sparks shot from his wand. But the sparks were feeble and stuttering. Her eyes flew to his wand hand in alarm. And then she saw it. His hand was clutching the handle to his wand, but the wand was snapped in two, the pieces held together by nothing more than a flimsy strand of phoenix feather. Hermione pointed a shaking wand at him. “Ex—Expelliarmus.” And the broken wand flew up into her hand. She spared it a brief glance before pocketing it. The broken wand was dreadful. But what was one more drop of dread in the sea of dread in which she was already drowning? “Harry!” she called. More forcefully this time. “Harry, this isn’t you! Come back! Wake up. You’re Harry Potter. Wake up!” She had seen him lost in visions before, of course. But this… this was different. She briefly wondered if she should slap his face to jar him awake. But again she found she didn’t want to touch him. He revolted her. “How stupid you all are. How trusting. To think that safety lies in friends. To think that weapons can be discarded. To think that a few boxes blocking a door can stop me!” Hermione stood shaking her head back and forth. She didn’t want to hear this. She wished she could block out his voice. She knew what was coming and she couldn’t bear to hear him kill someone again. Kill his mother… “Stand aside, you silly girl… Stand aside, now.” Hermione was sobbing now. She pushed her hands over her ears, begging for him to stop. “Harry…” she moaned. “This is my last warning—” “Don’t. Don’t. Please. Harry. Come back.” “Stand aside. Stand aside, girl.” “You’re Harry. You don’t have to do this. You’re Harry. Just wake up!” “Have it your way, then. Avada Kadavra!” She found herself flinching as though she believed the curse might actually be flying her way. She sank to her knees, crying. Through her tears, she studied her friend’s face. It was Harry’s face. But the disgust twisting his expression was not his. An expression like he was staring at the lowest most disgusting insect imaginable. “It’s crying. I hate crying. I never could stomach the small one’s whining…” Hermione sat there on the ground and hugged her knees to her chest. Close, but not too close. She felt cowardly that she could not bring herself to be closer to him. But this wasn’t Harry. But it was. She rocked back and forth, trying to shut out his words. She was afraid to touch him and afraid to leave him. So all she could do was sit there on the frozen ground and rock back and forth, back and forth. She squeezed her eyes shut as he screamed the final curse. The curse she had known was coming. “AVADA KADAVRA!” And then her head jerked up. Because he was screaming again. But this was no longer a scream of anger. But a scream of pain. Of agony. Of terror. Of torture. And to see her friend—to see Harry… even if it wasn’t Harry—to see him in pain. Hermione sobbed as she crawled closer to him. He disgusted her. But she loved him. He was Harry. Somewhere inside he was Harry. And so she reached out a trembling hand and brushed his hair aside in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. “It’s okay, Harry. It’s okay. It’s not real.” He was sweating now. She unzipped the front of his jacket to cool him. And then her eyes fell on his neck. A chain was poking out, just visible under his collar. And the skin beneath looked raw and burned. Her eyes widened. How could she be so foolish! How could she have forgotten? She tore open his jacket and pulled aside the neck of his T-shirt below. She moved to yank the horcrux off him, but retracted her hand sharply with a hiss of pain when it burned her fingers. But she could see his flesh smouldering below, red and angry. She grasped at the chain, but this too was scorching. “Diffindo!” she cried, cutting away the chain. Then, covering her hand with her sleeve, she grasped and tugged. The locket came away in her hand, carrying with it a layer of burnt skin. She gagged at the smell as she flung the horcrux aside. It landed a few feet away, lying innocently on the cold winter ground. She turned back to Harry. An oval of raw blistering flesh marked the spot over his heart where the horcrux had been. She looked up into his face, blurred by tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I should have thought of it sooner.” She brushed his hair back from his face as slowly his screams quieted. His forehead was hot and a sheen of sweat was coating his face. But slowly he looked more like Harry and less like… him. But still he did not wake up. His eyes were closed now, no longer glaring at the sky. He was moaning softly to himself. “No… No….” “Shhhh. It’s alright, Harry. Everything is going to be alright.” She scrubbed the tears from her eyes. She had to get herself together. She had to help him. “Alright… We have to get you into the tent…” She spoke as though expecting him to suddenly agree and get to his feet. For a moment, she contemplated how she was going to lift him. Then Ron’s voice floated to her from years past under the school while battling Devil’s Snare. HAVE YOU GONE MAD? ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT? Oh. Right. “Mobilicorpus!” she sniffed. And Harry’s body rose up into the air. She shakily got to her feet and, holding her wand like the conductor of a symphony, she began to march Harry’s unconscious form into the tent. Her feet faltered as she came level with the horcrux. She looked down on it with revolution. For all the world, it looked like nothing more than a simple piece of jewellery lying forgotten in the woods. A part of her wanted to leave it there. Let the forest reclaim it. But swallowing, she reached down, her hand again covered with her sleeve, picked it up, and slipped it into her bag. It was tricky manoeuvring him into the bunk, especially while she was shaking. But she managed it on the third try. He was so covered in bruises and cuts, she figured he never needed to know if one or two of them were from her banging him into the bedposts. When at last he was situated, she tucked him under the covers. Then as an afterthought, pulled the blanket from the top bunk down to pile it on top of him too. Then she turned to his injuries. She pulled out her beaded bag. “Accio antiseptic,” she whispered, pointing her wand into the bag. And a small purple vial flew into her hand. She poured a generous amount onto a cloth and set about cleaning the bite to his forearm. The potion smoked as it made contact with his skin. Then she cleaned the burn on his chest. Then the cuts from the glass across his cheek. “No… Noooo…” Harry moaned as she worked, quite oblivious to her administrations. “Accio dittany,” she commanded her bag again. Then she tipped some of the contents of this vial onto the snake bite. She watched as the skin knit itself back together neatly. She did the same to the burn on his chest. It relieved the blisters, but the skin was still red and smooth and raw. Not even dittany was a match for a horcrux it would seem. It was sure to scar. Hermione looked up into Harry’s face then. She felt his forehead again. He felt feverish. Summoning a fresh washcloth and a basin of water, she mopped his brow. He moaned. “It’s alright. It’s alright Harry. You’re safe. Come back,” she whispered. He had never been out this long. Never had one of his visions been like this. And it terrified her. It was so quiet. She sat in their tent in the woods, far removed from all civilisation. Not another living soul was near. It was just her and Harry. There was no sound to be heard but his ragged breathing and occasional moans and sighs. It was just her and Harry. But no. He wasn’t there. Not really. He had left her as assuredly as Ron had. She was alone. She was so alone. And she sat there, mopping his brow, holding his hand. And the minutes ticked by. And then hours. And with every hour, every minute, every second, every ragged breath, her fear increased. What if he didn’t come back? What if he was gone? He was her best friend. For years, she had followed him. Anywhere and everywhere he cared to go, she had followed him. She had stayed by his side. She would have continued to follow him to the ends of the Earth. But what if he went somewhere she could not follow? What would she do then? What would she do if he left her behind? “Harry… Harry, come back. Please come back. Don’t leave me here alone… Don’t leave me behind… Come back.” “No…” he moaned, stirring. His eyes fluttered for the first time since they had been outside, and he had stared at the sky. She sat up straighter. “Harry?” “No…” “Harry, it’s all right, you’re all right!” “No… I dropped it… I dropped it…” “Harry, it’s okay, wake up wake up!” Please don’t leave me behind.

#Harry Potter #hermione granger #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #canon compliant

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simsebine · 1 year

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Die Sims 4: Hogwarts-Legacy Challenge by simsebine

(inspiriert & angelehnt an der Harry Potter Legacy Challenge von Nesmeralda. Ihre Regeln findest du hier: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-z7CDwXJZw <3 danke dafür )

Meine Vorbereitungen:

Ich habe das Harry Potter Save-File genutzt. Eine deutsche Erklärung und die Datei findest du hier: https://www.simtimes.de/harry-potter-welt-fuer-sims-4-27435/

manche Sims habe ich ausgetauscht und aus der Galerie hochgeladen und/oder im CAS mit Custom Content verändert (wie du Custom Content installierst, erkläre ich dir hier: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRedd5RYwWA)

Manche Orte habe ich angepasst oder die Sims aus dem Savefile umziehen lassen

da unsere Zauberschüler in die Highschool gehen (Highschool-Pack benötigt) habe ich die Schule auch in ein kleines Hogwarts verändert.

Challenge-Regeln:

Die Original-Challenge von Nesmeralda erstreckt sich über verschiedene Generationen und entsteht jeweils aus der vorherigen.

Wir spielen die Häuser gleichzeitig und versuchen die Ziele innerhalb dieser Generation zu schaffen und kreieren damit sozusagen das ultimative “Hogwarts-Erbe” (Hogwarts Legacy) Wir spielen sozusagen die Generation 0.

Was mit den Kindern dieser Generation passiert (Gen 1) ist (noch) nicht definiert - hier dürft ihr selbst kreativ sein.

Die Lebensdauer/Lebensspanne der Sims darfst du mit dem MC Command Center hochstellen. Gestartet wird im Teenager-Alter.

Ich spiele mit allen Packs, diversen Mod´s und Custom Content.

Unsere Sims werden in die Häuser verteilt und je Zugehörigkeit sind diese Challenge-Ziele zu erfüllen.

Außerdem hat der Haushalt 1 Katze: Krummbein, Hermine´s Haustier.

Ravenclaw (Hermine Granger)

Der Sim will Klassenbeste werden - also 1er Schülerin

Lieblingsfarbe: Blau, Gelb, Orange

Merkmale: Genie, Bücherwurm. Im Erwachsenenalter kommt Kreativität dazu.

Bestreben: Zauberkunst & Hexerei

“Ablenkungen” von der Schule sind erlaubt jedoch keine feste Partnerschaft

Karriere: Lehrerin darin das Erreichen des Lvl 10

Erforderliche Fähigkeiten:

Lvl 10: Geschicklichkeit

Lvl 10: Logik

Lvl 10: Raumfahrtwissenschaft

Sie muss alle Zaubersprüche und Zaubertränke erlernen und einen Raben als Begleiter erreichen

Darf maximal 1 Kind bekommen, aber nie heiraten, da die Karriere an erster Stelle steht

Slytherin: (Draco Malfoy)

Merkmale: Zimperlich, Snob, Im Erwachsenenalter noch: Selbstsicher

Bestreben Jugendlicher: Meister des Unfugs

Lieblingsfarbe: Grün, Silber/Grau

Bestreben Erwachsener: Erfolgreiche Abstammung

Karriere: Geheimagent oder Verbrecher

Erforderliche Fähigkeiten:

Lvl 10 Schelmfähigkeit

Lvl 10 in der Karriere

Er muss alle Zauber der ungezähmten Magie erlernen und hat einen Schädel als Begleiter

Er hat 2 beste Freunde, die alles für ihn tun würden (ebenfalls Slytherins)

Sie mobben andere Kinder und hacken auf ihnen rum

Er ist aber heimlich ein gemobbtes Kind verliebt, was er lange nicht zugeben kann

Er heiratet später einen reichen Sim wegen dem Geld

daraus entstehen 2 Kinder

er beginnt eine Affäre am Arbeitsplatz, weil er in der Geldehe so unglücklich ist

Lasse deinen ungeliebten Ehepartner auf mysteriöse Weise verschwinden

Im Alter versucht er, seine Kindheitsliebe (das gemobbte Kind) noch zu finden und mit ihm zusammenzukommen

Gryffindor: (Harry Potter)

Merkmale: Abenteuerlustig, Gesellig. Im Erwachsenenalter noch: Sprunghaft

Bestreben: Freund der Welt

Karriere: Politiker

Erforderliche Fähigkeiten:

Lvl 10 Charisma

Lvl 10 Forschen und Debattieren

Er muss alle Zauber der schelmischen Magie kennen

Er muss einen Drachen als Begleiter haben

Lieblingsfarbe: Rot / Gelb

Feier jedes Wochenende eine Party oder verreise so oft du kannst an andere Orte

Habe als Erwachsener mindestens 15 Freunde

Hab gleichzeitig mind. 3 romantische Beziehungen

Bekomme ungeplant 1 Kind

Lasse deine Partnerin am Altar stehen oder lehne einen Heiratsantrag ab

Bekomme im Laufe deines Lebens mindestens noch 2 weitere Kinder

Hufflepuff: (Ron Weasley)

Merkmale: kindisch, tollpatschig. Im Erwachsenenalter: treu

Bestreben: Große, glückliche Familie

Karriere: darf keinen Job annehmen sondern verdient Geld durch sammeln und Gärtnern

Lieblingsfarbe: Gelb, Schwarz

Erforderliche Fähigkeiten:

Lvl 10 Gartenfähigkeit

Lvl 10 Kräuterkunde/Kochfähigkeit

Sammle alles, was du finden kannst

Du verliebst dich schnell und willst überall Liebe verteilen

Freunde dich mit der ganzen Nachbarschaft an

Baue schon als Teenager einen Garten an

Finde einen Partner für´s Leben: dieser muss ein Muggel sein

Bekomme mindestens 3 Kinder

Adoptiere ein weiteres Kind

Hab einen Faltterhasen als Begleiter

Lerne ALLE Zaubertränke

#sims 4 #hogwarts #harrypotter #sims4challenge #sims4gameplay #sims4regeln

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turianosauruswrex · 1 year

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1 and 10 for all 3 bestie! Ich besteche dich mit Keksen.

Danke schön!! No bribe necessary! (Song lyric ask game)

a song lyric that makes you think of them

Katya: I'm gonna just break out the big guns right now, you get one from when I first came up with her in 2020 and one about her super cool not-at-all-traumatic upcoming arc.

You're a fraud, and you know it But it's too good to throw it all away Anyone would do the same You've got 'em going And you're careful not to show it Sometimes you even fool yourself a bit

("Smoke and Mirrors" by Gotye, the first song I ever ever picked out for her. Katya's a habitual, instinctual liar, mostly to protect herself. She's gotten better about it over the last year or so, but she still relies on her alternate identity as Grief and the deception that comes with that.)

You poor thing Sweet, mourning lamb There's nothing you can do It's already been done

("Ptolemaea" by Ethel Cain, crying crying crying she has no idea what she's getting herself into and I'm vibrating about it. It's about to get cosmic. She's about to get answers she does not want.)

Sylvie:

And it's go boys go They'll time your every breath And every day you're in this place You're two days nearer death

("The Chemical Worker's Song", protest song written by Ron Angel. Sylvie works a dangerous job in a polluted city under the thumb of Capitalism; I've been searching for good work songs for her that she'd sing to herself while digging graves.)

Zyd:

Oh, mamma mia-ma, ma-mamma mia-ah They treat me like if I did something criminal All eyes on me, I feel like I'm a superstar I'm not a freak, I just thought it was carnival

("Mamma Mia" by Måneskin, musically and lyrically this is such a Zyd song-- the attitude, the groove, the tease, even Victoria in the music video starting us off with "he's just so annoying" about Damiano, like. That's just them! That's Zydre! They're annoying! They're here for a good time and, ideally, a long time.)

10. a song lyric to make them happy

Katya:

And if you get to heaven I'll be here waiting, babe Did you get what you deserve?

("Dead!" by My Chemical Romance y'all KNOW we were not getting out of here without an MCR pull)

Sylvie:

Nobody taught you how to read and riot

("New Invention" by I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME, I think she'd really appreciate the wordplay in this line)

Zyd:

You've been daddied by all the dudes that were not dad And all of those dads never gave you the things That you should have had

("Kiss the Go-Goat" by Ghost, unfortunately Zydre has deeply questionable taste and would find this line hysterical. I don't know. I have no explanation. They're a nightmare and they live in my head.)

#asks #bleumanouche #honorable mention to solovey by go_a for katya but i felt bad putting lyrics in ukrainian on here #the translation is good but it doesn't feel the same #additional shoutout to *checks notes* every sea shanty for zyd #katya fyodorova #sylvie caron #zydre dashiev #zyd's favorite ghost release is in fact seven inches of satanic panic they think it's a riot #they knew all of mary on a cross within two hours and sing it at the top of their lungs #also bleu i am deeply sorry for my college german classes have failed me WOE i love the language but know like one word

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shakehandstt · 2 months

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Wir freuen uns über die beiden shakehands-Spitzenplatzierungen beim Doppelturnier des Dresdner Hochschulsportzentrums, Ron & Rapha. Großen Respekt an Darius und vielen Dank an Denis Hünich für die Organisation 🤝🏾🏓

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hepmansspaceblog · 2 months

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Cantina Creature, Ron Cobb.

Danke, Erica_Moon (US)!

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sapgir · 3 months

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Harry Potter and his friends are in the fifth year of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His world is full of problems: the return of the Dark Lord, the distrust of classmates, exams…And out of the blue, a guy who eerily resembles the late Cedric appears in the castle, his creepy girlfriend, with whom even Hermione cannot be compared to insanity, two sexy vampires and brothers-hunters of evil spirits. Voldemort is in real danger!

-Dark times are coming! Albus Dumbledore cleared his throat significantly. – I don't want to convince anyone, I'll just tell the truth – Voldemort is back!

The sleepy students sighed in mock horror. Harry clenched his fists, the Weasley family crossed themselves, Hermione gasped, and Draco Malfoy whispered loudly:

-Fuck, this old fart fucked up with his Voldemort…

-I urge all of you to unite, to forget old grudges in order to resist the dark forces! The director's voice echoed through the Great Hall. – We will do our best to protect all of you. Remember, Hogwarts will always be a saving lantern for you in the dank darkness…

-God, what is he smoking? What kind of lanterns? George Weasley asked himself.

-"Hallucinogenic lemon slices,– Fred explained. – They say it's powerful shit.

Dumbledore spent about half an hour talking such crap from the category of "let's be friends, let's be nice, let's kill Voldemort," but except for the Gryffindor table, no one listened to him. The Hufflepuffers just sat with smart faces, nodding after each remark of the director, the Ravenclaw chatted animatedly, and the Slytherins watched Draco and Blaise Zabini playing backgammon from nowhere.

"You're talking in your sleep, friend," Ron said, sitting in the dark bedroom.

-How do you know? Harry was surprised, blushing like a bespectacled boer.

"Harry, do you have any idea how loud you talk in your sleep?" Are you dreaming about Cedric?

-"I see his death,– Harry sighed resignedly. – And Voldemort…

-Don't call him by his name!

-Cedric?

-VOLDEMORT!

-"He asked me to take his body," Harry whispered, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. – Take it to his father…

There was horror in Ron's eyes.

-"Do you-Know-Who asked you to take his body?"

-Ron, go to bed!

-I'm coming, I'm coming. And you go.

-"As soon as I close my eyes, I see Cedric," Harry said. – So clearly and clearly, as if he were alive. So no, I'm going to stay.

With a shrug, Ron went to bed, leaving his friend to grieve alone.

And at this time in the Forbidden Forest.

Two young men, stumbling over the roots of centuries-old trees, cursing, growling with anger, made their way through the forest thickets. They had been stomping for a couple of hours, so they dreamed of going out at least somewhere where a human foot had set foot. The travelers came out into a moonlit clearing, and this made it possible to see their faces.

A very young skinny guy sat down carefully on a fallen pine tree, with such an expression on his face as if he suffered from uncontrollable diarrhea and the desire to sneeze. Slim, with puny arms and legs, pale, as if he had returned from a concentration camp, he had an armful of copper hair on his head, reminiscent of Elvis Presley's hair.

His companion, an equally pale, hysterical-looking girl, was breathing convulsively, shaking off fallen leaves. Her light brown eyes expressed complete apathy, if not for the gurgling angry sounds she made, one would have thought she was in a coma. She was wearing ripped jeans, a T-shirt stained with something red, and ridiculous high-heeled sandals.

-Edward! She screamed. – Where did you take me? You said there would be deer here! You said deer hunting is cool! Edward, not a single deer, and hunting centaurs is not cool!

-"Bella, my love," the guy said wearily. – Calm down, we're together!

-I'm hungry! She sobbed. – I'm sick of this wilderness! Not a single house, not a single tent!

-Bella, honey…

"Why couldn't we have hunted somewhere closer?" Bella screamed.

Girlish screams filled the surroundings. Edward covered his ears with his hands and began to rock back and forth like a matryoshka doll. Bella talked about her unhappy fate for a very long time. And her loud trills were a great success with several other travelers.

A couple of kilometers away from the newly married Cullens, two young people were sitting around a campfire made of valuable magic wood. One was looking thoughtfully at the moon, the other, obviously a little older, was playing tic-tac-toe with himself, drawing squares on the ground with a stick.

-"Judging by the mellifluous screams, we're on the right track," the guy said, taking his eyes off the moon.

-So what? His friend asked him. Her voice made me feel a little shocked.

-"Damon, at least pretend you're interested in our case!"

-"I'm not going to lie, I really don't care!" Damon snapped. – And anyway, brother, we need to rest! Yesterday we were almost hit by some rare car, then for some reason we were shot at, again from this rare car, and instead of going somewhere and relaxing with the girls, we sit on the cold ground, freeze eggs and listen to the screams of a newly converted hysterical vampire!

-"We need to get to know them better and make sure they don't threaten people!"

Stefan, did you see their faces? Bella alone, or whatever her name is, poses a potential threat just by her appearance alone.

Damon, pull yourself together," Stefan ordered. - Or I'll…

-Or what? - Damon shouted, drowning out Bella's screams. - Are you going to sic Elena on me? Where is she, by the way?

At home, she didn't want to come with us.

-That's the only sensible thing you've done all year," Damon snorted, pulling a three-liter jar of blood out of his backpack. - Let's drink to Elena… Without clinking glasses!

-Come on, come on, drink up, you bastard," the man muttered a hundred yards away from the Salvatore brothers, pointing a shotgun at Damon.

The man was lying under a blackberry bush, occasionally scratching his mosquito-bitten leg. The harsh Hogwarts mosquitoes were biting the unfortunate man even through his jeans.

-Dean….

Quiet…

-Dean…

-Get off…

-DEAN!

-What are you yelling about, asshole? - Dean put the shotgun down in annoyance.

-Look, either you shoot him or you stop lying on the ground. And anyway, the kebabs are getting cold!

-Sammy, did you hit your head? We're on a recon mission, what the hell are kebabs?

Sam Winchester, a tall guy with shoulder-length hair, courageously clutched in his hands skewers with strung meat and vegetables and eerily resembled King Arthur of the XXI century.

-Dean, aren't you sick of this? Shoot him and send him to the bonfire.

-You started a bonfire, too? - Dean rolled his eyes. - We're on a reconnaissance mission, asshole!

-What are we supposed to do, not eat?

-Sit down, I can see your two-foot-tall carcass all over the woods.

Sam stomped impatiently in place, kicking his brother in the thigh.

--Wake up, I said. The kebabs are getting cold!

-Fuck you and your kebabs! - Dean shouted, taking aim at Damon again.

-So you're not eating? - Sam was surprised.

-Yeah, yeah, give me a skewer, you Kansas cook……

Dean's loud chomping was muffled only by grunts from the thicket.

-We'd better find a motel," Sam said.

-There's a small village down the road. We'll stop there. You know, Sammy, this place is kind of weird.

-Why? - Sam asked peacefully, husking a seed.

-What do we start with: vampires, abnormal zones, or that newspaper where the pictures move? - Dean asked irritably, swallowing a huge piece of pork. - By the way, where's the paper?

-Well, it's… - Sam muttered. - 'I needed a newspaper for the fire…'

-'Oh, Sammy, you're just a dummy! - Dean said. - There's a reason daddy used to say you had mush instead of brains……

P.S. I have a badly stuffy nose right now. But I don't have a fever 0*O

#Supernatural #Harry Potter #The Vampire Diaries #parody

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