#oh to carve my name and the name of my friend into a stone wall to say here we were! we existed right here! we wish ourselves well!
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This Bites (6)
Pairing: Astarion x Fem! Chubby!MC
Plot: Astarion gets to know Winnie's little step sister Vanessa as the trip to the carnival date grows near.
Content/Warnings: Fluff, mean vampire threatens smol human, smol human is annoying and asks too many questions, smol human's dad is a bigot, Batstarion abuse.
Chapter 5: Long ass chapter
Chapter 6: We here.
Chapter 7: Uhh......
“Shit.” Astarion breathed out, staring at the little girl with shock. This was not good. Winnie had busted her ass to make sure no one in the house found out about Astarion. Winnie shot up from the ground, eyes widened with horror as she saw her stepsister in her room.
“Vanessa! What are you doing in MY room?” Winnie snapped, arms crossed.
“I couldn't sleep!” Vanessa complained before her eyes stared at Astarion, taking in his features.
“He looks like the vampire from that game all my favorite YouTubers are playing!”
“Ah…Well, he's just a big fan!” Winnie said nervously before elbowing Astarion in the shoulder.
“Oh! Yes! I am just absolutely captivated by him! He's so beautiful and dreamy.~ It's as if he was carved from stone by the gods themselves!~” Astarion put his hand over his heart, lacing every word with some dramatic flair.
“Okay, I think she gets the point.” Winnie rolled her eyes, as she huffed at Astarion's ridiculous and frankly egocentric theatrics.
“You sound just like him too!” Vanessa said, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “And are those fangs in your mouth?”
“He's a cosplayer and he just so happens to be very good at impressions! Seriously Nessa, don't tell me you think he could actually be a vampire. You know they aren't real, silly.” Winnie said, laughing nervously as her anxiety began to spike.
“He literally has no reflection.” Vanessa said, pointing to the mirror in Winnie’s room. Just to add to their shit luck, the two of them had been standing at the perfect angle for her to notice.
“Fuck.” Winnie cursed, stomping her foot and covering her face in her hands.
“Well…Looks like we'll have to kill the child.” Astarion said with an annoyed sigh, clenching his clawed fingers. Vanessa tensed up and backed up against the wall as the vampire took a step forward. Winnie quickly moved in front of him and blocked the way to Nessa.
“No no no! We are not murdering my stepsister!” Winnie put her hand on his chest.
“I can't believe there's a real vampire in our house!” Vanessa exclaimed, sounding way too excited about a blood sucking undead being hiding in her home.
“You are not having the appropriate reaction to finding out a bloodsucking monster-” Winnie was cut off by Astarion clearing his throat,” right sorry LIFE CHALLENGED INDIVIDUAL is in your house.”
“Well, you obviously don't seem afraid of him.” Nessa exclaimed, “and if he was dangerous why would you bring him into the house?”
“I am very dangerous, thank you.” Astarion scoffed, crossing his arms with a slight pout.
“He is my friend and I'm taking care of him…” Winnie began to say.
“Dad has no idea he's here does he?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow with a smirk.
“No and I want to keep it that way.” Winnie said sternly.
“I can't believe there's actually a video game character in front of me!” Nessa squealed in excitement. “Wait, how is this possible?”
“I've been trying to get to the bottom of that.”Winnie rubbed her temples, “look the bottom line is you can't tell anyone about him being here, understand?” Vanessa ignored Winnie and immediately went over to inspect Astarion.
“So what's your name?” She asked curiously.
“It's Astarion. ~” The vampire replied with a dramatic little bow.
“Astairen?” Vanessa repeated, pronouncing the vampire’s name incorrectly. The elf sighed and rolled his eyes.
“A-star-rion.” He corrected her.
“Ha! You sound like a Pokemon!” Vanessa giggled.
“A what?” The vampire was completely confused.
“Vanessa.” Winnie huffed, “listen to me.” Vanessa eventually turned back to look at Winnie. “You cannot tell anyone about him, understand? Especially not your father.”
“I won't tell anyone! I promise! I've just always wanted a vampire friend!” Nessa exclaimed with a twinkle in her eyes.
“Let's not get carried away…There are very few people in this world I consider ‘friends’ and you are certainly not one of them.” Astarion said in a sassy tone, face scrunched in disgust. Winnie quickly elbowed him.
“Be nice.” She scolded him.
“Ugh….If I must…” Astarion groaned and looked over at the young girl. “…I may consider becoming friends…” The vampire said the last word as if it would make him vomit.
“Don't take what he says too personally, Ness. He's basically a cat on the inside.” Winnie said calmly, causing Vanessa to giggle.
“This is going to be so cool! I have so many questions!” Vanessa said with excitement.
“Ah yes well, it might be best if you hold off your questions for tonight. I'm really tired.” Winnie said with a yawn, stretching out her arms.
“But come on! Just a few minutes! Pleaaassse!” Vanessa whined. Winnie groaned in annoyance before sitting on the bed and kicking off her shoes.
“Alright. You got ten minutes.” She said with a sigh.
“Okay okay! Can you fly?”
“No.” Astarion replied.
“Can you hypnotize people?”
“No.”
“Can you see the future?”
“No.”
“Read minds?”
“No.”
“Do you….sparkle in the sun?”
“Not sure…Usually I'm too busy burning to death to check.”
“Well, you're a boring vampire!” Nessa huffed.
Astarion rolled his eyes,”I can rip your heart out and eat it. Is that exciting enough for you?”
“Kinda gross, but okay.”
“Alright you've asked enough questions. Now go to bed.” Winnie sighed.
“Fiiiine.” Vanessa finally gave in before leaving to go back to her room.
Winnie let out a groan of annoyance once her step sister left her room. She rubbed her temples in frustration as Astarion sat down on the bed beside her.
“God, I hope she doesn't tell anyone…” Winnie muttered before suddenly feeling clawed hands on her shoulders. Astarion began to rub her gently.
“Since you won't let me kill them I dearly hope you have a plan brewing in that pretty head of yours? In case our little secret gets out.” The pale elf said as he continued to massage her shoulders, thumbs moving down to rub circles around her shoulder blades.
“We'd have to move out I guess…..Which is just a problem in itself. There's no way I can afford my own house and an apartment is too crowded. You'd never be able to sneak out and hunt without the possibility of being seen.” Winnie hummed, unable to help but let out a slight groan at the vampire’s touch.
“Our own home does sound wonderful though. Just you and me living together. It'd almost be as if we were married.” Astarion hummed. The subject of marriage made Winnie go pale. She hoped he wasn't trying to drop some kind of hint? They'd only actually been dating a few weeks. They haven't even kissed yet for pete sake!
“Ah…Let's not get carried away now. I'm still a bit too young to be thinking of marriage.” Winnie huffed before pulling away and laying down on the bed.
“Ah..Yes of course. I only meant that it would be similar.” Astarion replied with a sad smile as he noticed Winnie facing away from him. He didn't want to make her feel pressured into anything, but he couldn't help but long to be closer to her. It was hard for him to understand that what seemed like years of companionship to him were only days, weeks at most to her. Winnie was completely infatuated with him. But love, real genuine romantic love was still such a foreign concept to the young woman. It was something she never thought she'd ever receive. She had to be smart about it and not rush into anything.
“Are you upset with me?” His saddened voice immediately made her look back.
“No, no! I'm just really worn out. Today has been tiring.” Winnie explained looking up at him. She let out a deep sigh before patting the space beside her. “You can ... .lay here if you want..” she murmured shyly. Almost as if on command Astarion immediately slotted himself beside her, arms pulling her against him. Astarion smiled, nuzzling his face between her neck and shoulder.
“Goodnight my love.” Astarion whispered in her ear. Winnie blushed a bit, returning his embrace as she closed her eyes.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
“So you can turn into a bat, but you can't fly?” The twelve year old girl looked up at the vampire who stood in her room. Ollie the dog was curled up by her feet, sleeping.
“Technically I shouldn't be able to turn into one at all, but yes flying doesn't appear to come instinctively.” He rubbed his chin, glancing around the child’s slightly messy bedroom in discomfort. Vanessa sat down on a bean bag chair, dressed in a yellow Sonic the Hedgehog hoodie and blue jeans.
“Then it's probably a good idea to practice! My dad won't be home until four so we have the whole house for you to fly around in! I can get you a little tiny bat helmet if you'd like?” Vanessa exclaimed as she hopped up.
“Are you always left home alone this long?” Astarion asked, curiously.
“My dad says I'm old enough to be here by myself.” Nessa exclaimed. “And Winnie said I need to keep an eye on you while she's at work so come on!” Nessa got up and quickly grabbed something from her drawer before leading Astarion out of her room and into the kitchen by his hand. Astarion rolled his eyes but complied with the girl’s wishes, not wanting to hear her whine. Astarion followed Nessa into the kitchen before taking his bat form, disappearing into a cloud of red before reappearing on the group as a little white vampire bat.
“Aww you're so cute!” She cooed before putting a tiny pink doll helmet on his head. “Okay now I'll get you started, and you remember to flap your wings!” The girl said before picking up the tiny bat who let out a few squeaks of annoyance. The sandy haired girl held him over her head before suddenly launching him into the air. The poor little bat let out a terrified squeak as he was slung through the air wings flapping frantically. Ollie shot out of Nessa’s room, hearing the bat’s squeaks. He immediately began to bark and snarl at the little creature.
“Ollie no! Leave him alone!” Vanessa scolded, but the untrained pup just ignored her and snapped at the little bat, hopping up to try and bite him.
Astarion hovered above the dog, just safely out of reach as he flapped his wings in desperation.
The dog continued to lunge at him until Maddie poked her head out of Winnie's bedroom. Almost immediately she charged at the dog, a nasty growl left the feline's mouth as she came close, ears straight back and fur puffed up.
“Merrrrooow…” Maddie's vicious yowl caused the dog to turn tail between his legs before he ran off into Brian's bedroom. Astarion huffed, gradually slowing his flaps before dropping down onto Maddie’s back.
Astarion let out a sigh of relief before hopping off Maddie's back and transforming back to his elven form. The little helmet falling off his head as he did so.
“Alright, I think I've had enough of flying for one day.” Astarion dusted himself off before noticing Maddie rub against his legs.
“Awe come on! You were doing so good!” Vanessa pouted.
“Darling, you're completely impossible. If it wasn't for your sweet sister I would have drained you dry already.” Astarion scoffed.
“Darling,” Nessa mocked, “you sound like a girl hehe.”
“Oh such a cruel clever insult! However, will I possibly recover?” Astarion's words were dripping with sarcasm as he held a hand over his heart dramatically. Vanessa looked at him curiously and blinked.
“Are you gay? My dad said guys who act like you are gay.” The twelve year old asked bluntly. The vampire looked back at her, not quite understanding what the rude child was asking.
“Not at present. I'm rather annoyed actually.”
“No I don't mean happy gay. I mean do you like boys?” The young girl asked.
“Gods, you're a nosy child.” Astarion rubbed his temples.
“I just wanna know. Dad said I shouldn't talk to gay people. Not sure why though.” The child shrugged. “So do you like boys or girls?”
“Hmm…I much prefer adults rather than boys and girls….” Astarion finally answered with a grimace.
“Ah! That's what I meant! But what gender do you like?”
“Must I choose?” Astarion chuckled before his pointed ears twitched and he heard someone pull into the driveway. He peeked his head through the door to the livingroom and spotted Winnie through the window. She had gotten off her motorcycle and was walking back to the house. Astarion grinned before entering the living room.
“Hey!” Vanessa whined and followed him.
Winnie walked inside, she looked exhausted, hair messy and her uniform had a bit of dirt on it.
“Winnie.” Astarion smiled at her sweetly,“welcome back my sweet.” He quickly pulled her in for a hug, nuzzling his face in her neck. Winnie nearly fell over, but the vampire held her up.
“Darling? Are you alright?” He asked with concern.
“I'm exhausted. Work was hell today.” Winnie huffed, leaning against him.
“Oh my God. You guys are dating aren't you?” Vanessa piped up.
“Ugh ...Not now Nessa. I don't have the energy for this.” Winnie said and pulled back from Astarion’s arms. Astarion smirked a bit.
“Winnie and I are partners, yes.” He said, smugly.
“Astarion.” Winnie glared at Astarion slightly.
“What? I'm simply being honest with the kid.” Astarion said with an innocent look. Winnie rolled her eyes before walking into her room. The messy haired female laid on her bed and took a deep breath. She laid there for a while, staring at the ceiling in silence. Eventually Astarion came into her room and sat on the bed next to her.
“Love, I brought you something to eat.” Astarion hummed, setting down a plate with a sandwich on it. He looked down at her tired face and gently caressed her hair.
“Some crazy lady screamed at me today.” Winnie began suddenly. “She was pitching a fit because we didn't have any of the dog food she wanted. Becca wasn't working today so I had to handle it by myself.”
“A pity I couldn't join you there during the day. I'd be happy to dispose of anyone who gives you trouble.” Astarion said with a smirk, clenching his free hand into a fist and cracking his knuckles.
“You'd get arrested in a heartbeat.” Winnie chuckled, finally grabbing the sandwich and taking a bite. It was just bologna between two pieces of bread. No cheese or condiments. So incredibly bland. Well, she had to give the vampire some credit for trying. Winnie ate the sandwich before tossing the plate in the trash and laying her head on Astarion’s lap.
“It pains me how little faith you have in my skills, my love.” Astarion said as he continued to stroke Winnie’s hair.
“Honey, I've told you already. It's not like how it is in Faerûn where you can just dump the body in a ditch somewhere and no one will ask questions. People keep track of everyone who goes missing here. You will get caught.” Winnie mumbled, snuggling her head against his thigh.
“Well, actually they do begin asking questions in Baldur's Gate. Of course I still managed to get away without being caught.” Astarion said smugly.
“Makes me wonder if I should be involved with such a dangerous, dangerous man.” Winnie teased.
“Oh don’t worry, pet. I'd never hurt you. Not unless you wanted me to.~” Astarion tapped Winnie on the nose with a flirtatious wink. Winnie rolled her eyes and just relaxed with her head on his lap.
“Anyway, we have a lot to look forward to. We're going to meet up with your friend for a date in a few weeks, aren't we?” Astarion reminded her. Winnie’s eyes widened as she remembered they were supposed to meet Becca and her boyfriend at the carnival for a double date.
Shit.
Winnie turned and buried her face into Astarion’s thigh as she thought of all the things that could go wrong.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
The carnival came to town much sooner than Winnie expected. It didn't take long before Nessa was begging Brian to let her go before she had to go back to her mother's house. Winnie had called up Becca a couple nights back to make sure they'd meet up after sundown. She told her friend that her boyfriend couldn't get off of work until then. Everything was in place for the evening. Winnie wore a black T-shirt and ripped skinny jeans along with a pair of black converse. She brushed her hair out as best as she could while she stood in front of her bathroom mirror. Once she finished she put her glasses on and left the room, grabbing an old leather jacket from her closet that she barely wore as she let out a sigh.
Red eyes looked her over as their owner sat on the armchair, brushing his snow white locks. He was dressed in a sleeveless dark purple turtleneck which covered the bite scar on his neck. With it he wore black skinny jeans and tennis shoes.
“You're going to get cold wearing that, you know.” Winnie hummed.
“Well then, perhaps you'd be so kind as to lend me one of your coats if you're so worried about little old me.~” Astarion hummed, hopping up and moving a stray hair out of his face as he followed his lover into the bathroom.
“I already told you, Star. My jackets won't fit you right. You're too tall and skinny to fit in my clothes.” Winnie said with a sigh as she began to brush her teeth. “Besides I already bought you your own jackets.”
“But yours are so much softer and more comfortable.” The vampire replied, fiddling with a bag on the sink counter. He took out a small purple tube of mascara before applying it to his lashes. Astarion put the mascara back before grabbing a black eyeliner pencil.
“You're ridiculous but I-.......Where did you get that make up?” Winnie said as she looked back at him and blinked.
“Oh this? I found it in your mother's closet the other day. Looked like it hadn't been touched in a while so I thought it best not to let it go to waste.” Astarion replied as applied the eyeliner under his eyes.
“Don't steal from my mom. You know you can ask me if you want something right?” Winnie let out a sigh and kept brushing her teeth. She spat out into the sink before rinsing the sink and her toothbrush off. Then she walked back into her room, picking her backpack up off the floor.
Astarion came out and swiftly grabbed Winnie’s purple hoodie from the closet. He pulled it over his arms and let it hang off his shoulders before following his love out the door.
Theys snuck out of the house quietly, making sure to lock all the doors behind them before leaving. Winnie hopped onto her motorcycle with Astarion getting on behind her as the two set off. It was 8pm by the time they reached the carnival. The rides were all illuminated up with bright colorful lights. The sound of screams of excitement filled the air as did the delicious smell of fried foods.
Astarion glanced up at the strange contraptions with curiosity and a slight wariness. This wasn't like the circus as he predicted it would be like.
Winnie smiled a bit, memories from past trips to the carnival flooded her mind, filling her with joy and sudden enthusiasm. Perhaps this would actually be fun? She quickly shook her head, she needed to focus! There was another reason they were going here!
Winnie got off the bike and led her vampire up to the entrance. He kept an arm locked with hers as they purchased their tickets, heading inside. Winnie checked her cellphone to see if there were any messages from Becca.
“Okay, Becca's here. She’s with her boyfriend waiting for us by the snack stand.” Winnie hummed before looking over at Astarion. His eyes scanned around the crowd. There were so many people and a sweet alluring scent hit him like a brick.
“Hon? You alright?” Winnie asked curiously before noticing some random guy had fallen on the sidewalk and skinned his knee, drawing blood. Winnie placed a hand on Astarion’s face.
“Star…Look at me.” She said softly, causing his blood red orbs to snap back to her. “You haven't fed for a while have you?”
“I tried going out and hunting but the last few nights prey had become rather scarce…” Astarion admittedly.
“I told you, you were going to eat the whole forest. Look, hold on until we get back home and I'll let you feed from me.” Winnie said with a sweet smile.
“Thank you my sweet.” Astarion returned the smile before Winnie tugged him along.
“Now, let's go! Becca and Anthony are waiting!” Winnie exclaimed. They wandered through the carnival, marveling at the sights and sounds. The more they saw, the more Winnie began to grin, mind constantly slipping away from her main objective.
“Yo! Winnie!” Becca's voice snapped Winnie out of her thrill fueled trance. “Over here! Come meet my babe!” The redhead called. Sitting next to Becca was a tall lanky man with messy black hair and green eyes. He had to be about mid twenties and was dressed in a sleeveless blue hoodie and shorts.
Winnie walked over and smiled shyly, Astarion still holding on to her arm.
“Hey…I'm Winnie and this is Star…” Winnie introduced them.
“Star? So that's his name, huh? You know I can't quite put my finger on it but your boyfriend seems really familiar.” Becca scratched her head.
“The vampire from BG3! He looks kinda like him!” Anthony spoke up.
“Oh shit, you're right!” Becca exclaimed, “dude's even got elf ears on! Wicked!”
“Yeah, he really loves cosplaying!” Winnie said nervously. Astarion just stared at her in confusion.
“Cos-what?” He murmured.
“It's an amazing costume. You look pretty hot in it too!” Anthony grinned. Astarion smirked with a smug look.
“You flirt.” The elf rolled his eyes.
“He really is. It's part of his charm.” Becca giggled.
Winnie looked at the two with a slight discomfort, but shook it off. It was all harmless banter. “Anyway! Let's get this show on the road!” Becca hopped up with a grin.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Druid here! I hope I didn't make Vanessa too annoying, honestly I'm really just trying to portray her as a mischievous naive child though I can understand if she isn't well received. I'm going to New Orleans soon so it might be a while before the next chapter is dropped and I've also got some Winnifred The Druid oneshots to do.
Hope you guys liked the chapter! Next time we'll have some drama at the carnival!
~Druid
Taglist:
@seradyn , @plimsim, @astarioffsimpmain , @marcynomercy , @iamsexytrash , @gaymistakeboi , @divineknightmare , @tinyfreakgirl , @misscrissfemmefatal, @gianchan-de @jaksfanficsaver , @the-disaster-in-waiting , @hp-art-studio , @im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @dajeong , @iamnotokei
#bg3#astarion ancunin#baldurs gate 3#astarion bg3#astarion my beloved#astarion#astarion romance#astarion x reader#astarion x chubby reader#Astarion x chubby oc#Astarion x oc#astarion x female oc#bg3 x chubby reader#isekaied into the real world fic#fictional characters in the real world fic#modern au?#i dunno
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A/N: Finally it’s chapter 7 of our Harry Potter/Addams family crossover. Not as long as future parts but sssh we’re getting there. Don’t forget to read your letter and intro!!
Masterlist Series Masterlist Series Intro Your Hogwarts Letter First Year
Chapter Seven ~ The Ceremony
A tall, rather regal woman greeted them at the entrance. She was slim and elegant, and reminded (Y/N) of those ghosts of beautiful women who suffered a tragic death and haunted the halls of their manors at night, the ones from only the finest works of literature; graceful and poised and full of wisdom beyond words. “Good evening,” she said in a refined Scottish accent, immediately demanding the attention of everyone in the room, “I am deputy headmistress McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses.”
(Y/N) listened as she took in her surroundings. The grey stone walls were intricately carved, flaming torches casting shadows, statues of armoured knights stood high above the entrance, and a chilly draft breezing in – oh yes, this would surely feel like home.
“The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily.” McGonagall announced, before excusing herself.
The deputy headmistress slipped through the grand doors, and for a moment everyone was silent. And then the murmuring started. “Are you nervous?” (Y/N) asked Ron and Harry as she fiddled with her tie.
“A little,” said Ron, “I’ll be in Gryffindor, with any luck.”
The three chatted for a minute, until they were rudely interrupted. “So it’s true then, what they were saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.” The boy standing before them was pale and blond, and had an air of arrogance about him; a certain look in his eye that said he wanted to be taken seriously. (Y/N) could respect that, but the stench of his arrogance far overpowered any other personality traits he might have. She didn’t like that – arrogance was stupid and anyone possessing such a belief of their own superiority was even more a fool. No, (Y/N) didn’t take a liking to this boy – not one bit. “This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I’m Malfoy… Draco Malfoy.” The name was familiar to her.
Ron snickered, who could really blame him? His name was as pretentious as him.
Malfoy looked displeased. “Think my name’s funny do you? No need to ask yours – red hair and a hand-me-down robe, you must be a Weasley.” He spat, looking Ron up and down with distaste. The nerve. “You’ll soon find some wizarding families are better than others – don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” He said to Harry, holding out his hand to shake.
(Y/N) was about two seconds from standing between them and slapping this boy in his stupid face, no matter how highly he thinks of himself. She’d just opened her mouth to throw him a belittling and no doubt devastating insult when Harry came up with his own response. “I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”
Malfoy shot her a glare when she let out a snort, lazily hiding her snickers behind her hand. She knew she liked Harry for a reason. The look on Malfoy’s face was priceless.
The boy seemed like he was about to say something, when he was tapped on the shoulder by McGonagall – who would’ve thought she was so light on her feet? “They are ready for you now.” She addressed the room.
The nerves began, everyone felt it.
(Y/N) had hardly been so nervous in her life. As the grand doors opened to reveal the Great Hall in all its splendour, (Y/N) could only bring herself to appreciate its beauty for a few moments, before she was reminded of the task at hand. The first years were huddled further into the room, grouped together in an uncomfortable swarm, whoever tried to make their way in slowly was soon forced along by eager students. Pupils sat at every table gossiped amongst themselves as Professor McGonagall began to call out names to be sorted, cheering when someone was placed in their house. She knew that whichever house she was placed in would bring pride to her family, in their eyes she could do no wrong – but that wasn’t what nerved her; what if she didn’t fit in well? What if they treated her differently because she was an Addams? Or worse, what if she was put in the wrong house?
They walked down between the tables in a giant huddle, students eyeing them up and guessing who would fit where. Behind her, (Y/N) could hear a girl talking about the ceiling, and looked up to be amazed at the night sky above. Hundreds of lit candles floated in the air, filling the room with warm light. As they reached the front of the room, the huddle of first years came to a stop by some stairs. Before the staff table was a little stool, a wrinkly old leather hat sat atop looking a few centuries overdue a good polish.
After they all settled, Professor McGonnagal announced that the headmaster would be making a speech – as curious as she was, (Y/N) wasn’t all that interested in what the mysterious old man had to say; her feet hurt and she was far too eager to be sorted, bats fluttered her stomach with nerves and anticipation.
…“Note that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students.” Said the wizard, giving a pointed look to some boys at the Gryffindor table. “Also our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.” He said, then gave a smile and a nod, and sat back down.
Many students looked rather serious as they contemplated his words, but Harry, she noticed, seemed quite horrified. “Probably nothing to worry about,” (Y/N) leaned over to whisper, doing her best to reassure him, “we have some rooms like that back home too.”
Though it seemed to have the opposite affect she was hoping for.
One by one each new student was sorted alphabetically, the sentient hat calling out houses and chatting briefly. (Y/N) was hardly that surprised. she’d seen stranger things – she lived with a living, crawling, disembodied hand for goodness sake. Very soon she knew her name would be called out.
“Addams, (Y/N).” Called McGonnagal, searching for the girl’s face. Whispered bounced around immediately, no doubt gossiping about the eldest Addams heir and whatever rumours they’d heard.
Giving one last look to Ron and Harry, (Y/N) was glad to see them smiling at her as she went. Walking up the carpet covered steps, she took a seat and tried to savour the moment of her first and only sorting. The hat was placed on her head just over her eyes and the hat began to talk about all the things in her head – it was rather invasive, actually.
“Oh, an Addams, eh? Hm yes, it’s been a while. Let’s see…” Said the hat, in a gruff voice, rummaging about her brain no doubt. “Loyal like Hufflepuff, oh yes, open-minded… no no, not quite.”
Was it really so hard to figure her out?
“Some Gryffindor bravery in there, that’s for sure. Playful and stubborn, that’s true… hmmm… Ah! Intelligent, yes. And curious, witty – very wise old soul you are. Yes, I know where you belong, Rav--”
He paused. And so did her wildly beating heart. “Oh… I see, what’s this? Brimming with ambition. And something else… That’s it. Slytherin!”
Not many faces in the room seemed so surprised, the Slytherin table clapped the loudest, everyone whispering still; but (Y/N) was disappointed to see her new friends gossiping too, not all too pleased about her placement. As she rose to find somewhere to sit at her new table, (Y/N) tried not to think on it too much. She could just be imagining it, they were shocked is all.
There were mixed emotions about the Slytherin table; some where pleased to have a new student with them, others wary of her name. The plain look on her face may not have helped her case. She could feel the rumours brewing already.
Though the feast was grand enough to suit a king, (Y/N) ate somewhat solemnly at her table. She watched from across the hall as her new friends mingled joyfully at the Gryffindor table, all smiles and laughs, while she sat feeling rather iced-out. Every few minutes she could feel people glancing her way; the students either side of her left as much space between them as they could spare, and hardly a single person wanted to speak with her.
It was rather annoying.
Though she couldn’t say she was too surprised, after all, this sort of treatment wasn’t alien to her. So, she straightened her posture, held her head high, and ate as normal, hardly sparing a single thought for the people around her – as an Addams should.
Friends were overrated anyway.
This was just another school, so she would do what she always did. In true Addams fashion, (Y/N) was going to be as unapologetically herself as she was raised to be.
Tag List: Please let me know if you want to be tagged (or if you’ve been miss-tagged/changed your tag)
@boyaddams
@too-attached-to-fiction
@kpopgirlbtssvt
@lady-of-lies
@twsssmlmaa
@asadbisexual1
@sugakookiemonster
@theyaremorethanjustfictional
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@hellion-writes
@rory-cakes
@monstruositylad
@ladyslytherin7
@mima795
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@witch-of-all-things-soft
@sugarrush-blush
@undeniablyyou
@kiraisastay
@danyzta
@lovelyy-moonlight
@menkisser69420
@soggumm
@i-need-anything-holy
#harry potter x reader#harry potter golden era x reader#harry potter x addams family#xaddams!reader#x reader#x y/n#harry potter golden era#golden era x reader#harry potter au#addams family#wednesday addams x reader#Addams family x reader#addams family crossover#(y/n) addams#harry potter addams family crossover#x addams!reader#the curious misadventures of y/n addams#harry potter crossover#Addams family Hogwarts au#x slytherin!reader#griffindor x slytherin#harry potter x slytherin!reader#harry potter fanfiction x reader
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honestly i’m so mad that JKR wrote that scene where Ron found out that Umbitch was forcing Harry to cut open his own flesh with a blood quill and DIDNT make Ron go absolutely feral over it
so, as any sane person would, i wrote this:
“Mate, what’s that on the back of your hand?” asked Harry’s best friend, Ron, as the pair of them walked back to Gryffindor tower. Harry, who had been scratching his nose with his free right hand, hastily hid it behind his back.
“Oh- er, nothing, just a scratch,” Harry said quickly, but he was really thinking something along the lines of “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-“.
But much to Harry’s dismay, Ron grabbed Harry’s wrist and examined the wound of his hand, which now spelled out a bloody “I must not tell lies” in Harry’s own handwriting. Ron stared. He looked up. Harry was looking very intently at the stone wall next to him.
“Harry.”
The use of his name made Harry turn to Ron, allbeit reluctantly.
Ron’s face was strangely expressionless.
“Who did this?” Ron asked, his tone unidentifiable.
“Ron, I told you, it’s fine-“ Harry began, trying to dodge the question, but Ron interrupted him.
“No, Harry, it is NOT fine, and if you don’t tell me why you have writing carved into your flesh I’m going to Dumbledore.”
“Alright, alright!” Harry replied, trying to tug his hand away from Ron. When Ron wouldn’t let him go, Harry gave up. “Fine, you win. This is what Umbridge makes me do in detention,” he muttered in defeat.
Ron’s grip tightened on Harry’s wrist. Harry looked back to him and the sight of Ron’s expression made him regret even talking to Ron in the first place.
Ron was pale, eyes wide, mouth formed into a scowl, and ears bright red. He let go of Harry’s hand, turned on his heel, and dashed away.
Harry chased after him in alarm.
“Ron- RON! Where’re you going?!” Harry shouted after him, panting.
When Ron didn’t respond, Harry made to grab the back of his robes, but missed and tripped over his own feet. Ron turned around quickly to help him up.
“You alright, mate?” he said quickly, pulling Harry up.
”I’m fine. Where the hell are you rushing off to?”
“McGonagall,” Ron replied firmly.
Harry blinked. “No,” he blurted, and Ron raised his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“No, you’re not going to McGonagall about this—“
“And why not?!”
“Because it’s not important—!”
“Harry James Potter, that absolute cunt of a woman has been making you carve writing into your own flesh for a week using Merlin knows what and you’re trying to convince me that it’s not fucking important??” Ron yelled incredulously. When Harry didn’t answer, Ron grabbed his left arm and began pulling his friend along the corridor.
“Wh- hey! Ron! Quit it-“
“Shut it, Harry.”
Harry looked offended, but he did in fact, shut it.
When they reached McGonagall’s office, Ron banged on the door.
Professor McGonagall opened the door, looking incredibly irritated.
“Potter, Weasley,” she barked. “What in the name of Godric Gryffindor are you doing at my office at past midnight?”
Ron grabbed Harry’s right arm. “Ow, Ron!” Harry said.”
Ron ignored him, and showed Professor McGonagall the back of Harry’s right hand.
“Look at what that cheap pink whore is making Harry do to himself. Just look,” Ron said quietly, his tone mixed with pain and disgust. Harry felt McGonagall gently but firmly grab his hand and examine it.
Mcgonagall’s face had contorted into an expression of pure unbridled rage.
“Weasley.”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Please wait in my office with Potter. Have some biscuits,” she said, her voice trembling with fury. And with that, Professor McGonagall exited the room. Harry looked around at Ron with an expression of unease, but Ron looked satisfied and approached the chairs in McGonagall’s office, grabbing a biscuit and popping it into his mouth.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry said quietly, sitting next to his best mate.
Ron looked indifferent. After a moment, he replied, “You’re my best friend. If you think I’m going to stand by and watch as you let an old ministry hag make you tear open your own flesh and not go to a professor about it, you’re dead wrong, mate.”
Harry gave Ron a feeble grin.
“You’re barking,” he said wearily.
Ron shrugged. “Maybe.”
#harry potter#harry potter scene rewrite#ron weasley#harry and ron are best friends#minerva mcgonagall#umbridge is a nasty bitch
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19. A memory of someone they don’t see anymore
// this one got away from me a little tbh lmao?? anyway the inspiration for this one is the description of the Deliverance Hideout in SOV which reads as follows:
"A vast underground cemetery carved out of the earth. Within, commoner's graves lie next to those of nobles and even Zofian royalty."
Clouds hung heavy and gray in the sky on the day that the Deliverance lost Zofia Castle. Rain drenched their clothes and turned the ground to mud beneath their boots as they fled into the woods, down into the damp crypt that was meant to serve select teams of scouts as a hiding place—now meant to shelter the entirety of their forces.
Clive took the lead in the march, ushering them all to safety with his head bent low. He works beside his men to prepare the space for the night—counting supplies, stashing weaponry, clearing out ancient stones to make room for weapon racks and bedrolls. Now he stands beside Python, the two of them brushing cobwebs and dust out of empty loculi. (Python tries not to think too hard about whether these shelves had occupants before, or where those hypothetical occupants may be if they aren't here, where they were supposed to be laid to rest.)
In the flickering light of torches and lanterns, the golden sun at the head of the Deliverance looks…sallow. For the first time since Python has joined the force, he sees doubt openly tarnish the face of the shining noble knight.
"Was real nice of 'em to clear out and leave space here for our rations," Python says dryly, wiping a hand against his pants in a fruitless effort to clean it. "Our new neighbors might stink to high heaven, but at least they're polite."
Clive offers him a small chuckle. "Your optimism is admirable. And a bit surprising, coming from you."
Python's responding laugh echoes sharply off the catacomb's stone walls. "Oh, no. Lemme be clear: this is miserable, uh, Sir." The honorific is tacked on as an afterthought at the end, as always. "I'm pretty sure I wrenched my shoulder sticking an arrow in one of Slayde's little friends, this whole place stinks of death, and I've got mud crusted in some unmentionable places. I'm just looking forward to finally getting some rest."
"Your resilience, then." Another chuckle. And there it is, that overly polite smile that makes Python want to squirm away. "Thank you for standing with us, Python. Truly."
The air is stifling suddenly, filled with dust and noble intent. Python grimaces, returning his attention to the loculi in front of him. Names are embossed along the lower edge of the shelf, the lettering somewhat obscured by age. Around the edges, draconic hands cradle them together—holding them in the Mother's arms. He runs a gloved finger along the raised edges, tracing what remains there.
An--- F-r---us, Duke of Lu--n-
R--v-, Sh-p--d's Son
No matter the circumstances of our birth, Mila's blessed soil reclaims all of us in the end.
---
The catacombs lack the luxury of space required for any segregation of sleeping quarters. Bedrolls are laid practically from end-to-end of the inner sanctuary. Laid on his side, Python gets a distant view of the entrance. Clive leans against his lance—a pale, fixed figure in the dim light, staring out into the hall beyond. Python rolls over, turning his back to watch the rise and fall of Forsyth's breaths beside him in the darkness.
Despite his complaints of exhaustion, he sleeps fitfully. The air is too stagnant. The stone is too cold beneath his side. When he closes his eyes, he dreams of the ceiling collapsing and burying them all as one.
#[ ic ]#[ ask ]#[ drabble ]#// feel like the Clive Focus slipped away a bit but i didnt wanna write too much of a guy i'm not currently piloting lskdjfkds#// oh also blease don't try to decode those names they are fantasynamegenerator ass situations
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Writing Excerpt: Enna's Prequel
In honor of the 2/3s winner of the poll I made last night, here's something I wrote last week.
(The winner was ''Anne gets rescued by a group of assorted sapphic women'')
Word Count: 1,227
Tw/cw: Blood/human sacrifice, murder, referenced death, the protaganist being afraid that someone close to them might die, fighting, weapons, blood. I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything else.
Context: Anne got kidnapped by a necromancer (Eleanor) who wants to use her (and enna) as the sacrifice(s) to kickstart a summoning ritual. She wants to use them because of who their dad is (loosely an angel (if you know d&d they're assimar)) and the magic that gives them. This is the scene of Effie, Enna, Thea, and Lauralei all going to rescue her, because none of them want her dead or an eldritch being trying to kill them all.
Effie is Anne's girlfriend/partner/future wife, Lauralei & Thea are her friends, & Enna is her twin sister.
At the bottom of four layers of catacombs was a secret trapdoor, guarded by a man named Barnabus. Now, he was dead. Enna pushed the door open and descended down the flight of stairs beyond it. She wasn’t expecting what was at their bottom.
In the center of the room was a carved stone circle. It was detailed with hundreds, if not thousands, of symbols and phrases that Enna could never hope to understand. At one side of it, placing half melted candles into worn grooves, was an auburn haired woman. She was taller than Enna by at least a foot and everything about her screamed two things. She was a necromancer, and she was rich.
Her dress was ebony black and made of fine, heavy cloth. It was the kind of fabric that it would cost a hundred gold just to get wax out of, but here she stood, wax dripping past her skirt. Her hair was braided into a crown, and at the top there was a hair comb. It had a blood red ruby in its center, and the rest of it was gold. Her make up was flawless, and her skin the color of clouds.
Chained against the wall was a woman who could have been Enna herself. She was small; slightly built to begin with and months of near starvation having taken their toll. Her hair was limp, her cheeks hollow and her eyes half closed. Her ankles and both her wrists were shackled, and one arm was bent in a way that no one’s should be.
The only thing that told her Anne was alive was the twin pulse beating alongside her own and the slow rise and fall of her chest.
“Oh, excellent, you’ve made it just in time for the main spectacle,” she said, her voice filled with a malice that contained far too much glee for Enna to be comfortable with. Her voice was smooth—like velvet. “I would so hate for you to miss it,” Eleanor continued.
“What are you doing to her,” demanded Enna, feeling a short figure push against her back and knowing that Effie was behind her on the stairs.
“Oh,” laughed Eleanor, “Nothing I wouldn’t do to you. I was hoping I would get to kill all three of you, but,” —and here her voice took on a darker turn— “Zenderian killed the boy before I got the chance. Pity, that, but no matter. The two of you combined will be plenty strong enough for what is needed. Who knows, there might even be leftovers!” She giggled.
Enna let the arrow fly.
The giggling cut off abruptly. Suspended in the air in front of Eleanor’s throat was the arrow. It floated in space, bobbing gently in a nonexistent breeze. She reached up and plucked it out of the air like she was plucking a raspberry off a bush. “A steel tipped arrow. How… quaint.” Her lip curled, and she flung it to one side. It clattered against the flagstones.
Effie moved to Enna’s side, where she had a clear view of the room. She drew a vial from her belt, and hefted it in her hand as if to chuck it at Eleanor. Then she looked at Anne, and how close the two women were, and she lowered it.
“That’s right, little gnome. Just surrender now, and everything will be perfectly fine.”
“No! It won’t be! It isn't! You’re trying to kill my partner, who I love very much and would like to not be sacrificed for the birth of an eldritch demon.”
Eleanor stood to her full height as Effie withdrew a small crossbow from her back and two more figures moved past Enna to flank her and Effie. She drew a long and wickedly curved knife from her belt. It’s handle was worn, and the iron blade was sharp enough to gleam in the half-light.
“Oh, darling,” she purred. “Birth? No, this is just waking them up. They’ve existed for a long, long time.” She raised the knife behind her.
Effie hissed. “Fuck. You.” She pulled the trigger on the crossbow, watching as a pair of bolts fired straight for her.
Sure, she couldn’t use her potions. But that didn’t mean Effie was defenseless. She was a damn sight with a crossbow, and this one she had modified herself. The bolts weren’t steel, not completely. Copper did not, as a rule, mix particularly well with magic. It was practically impervious to it, which made it a very good weapon against spellcasters. In this case, necromancers.
Effie’s bolts shot, one and then another, cutting Eleanor off mid monologue. The first missed. It landed in the mortar of the wall behind Eleanor. The other didn’t. It flew straight into her upper arm and buried itself there. Eleanor screeched, and raised the knife with her uninjured arm. With the point she drew a careful line down Anne’s chest. The cut was shallow; about six inches long. It began at her throat. Blood began to bead along the edges, and slowly drip into the carvings below. It began to spread out in the carved circle. Eleanor began to smile. It was cold, and cruel, and the most terrifying thing Enna had ever seen in her life.
She didn’t know what scarred her more: Eleanor’s smile, or the fact that Anne didn’t react to the cut at all. The only sound she made was the slow ‘huff’ of her breathing, barely audible over the noise. At the same time, footsteps all at once began in the corridor to the left and immediately got louder. Temerity and Geir emerged from the archway. They were both armed to the teeth.
“Fuck,” said Lauralei, eloquently.
“You three deal with them,” said Thea. “I’ll get Anne.”
They nodded. Enna looked at Lauralei. “Make her feel it, will you?”
“Oh, she will,” said Lauralei grimly.
Just like that, the battle began. Enna dropped her bow and drew two of her daggers. She locked eyes with Temerity. The assassin drew her own blades.
“Fair fight?” she offered.
“Fair fight. No magic.”
“No bows,” countered Temerity. The two women circled each other.
“Fine. Three knives?”
“Don’t press your luck, Enna.”
“Alright. No bow, no magic. Agreed?”
“No magic, no bow,” said Temerity, and made the first move.
We must here pause in our narrative to clarify three things. One (1): Temerity was first and foremost an assassin. Her targets never saw her coming. Having one who could was throwing her off. That didn’t mean she was a shoddy fighter in the open—quite the opposite, in fact—but it did mean that just for the next few seconds, Enna had the upper hand.
Two (2): Temerity fought dirty.
Three (3): So did Enna.
#w: ennas prequel#wip: ennas prequel#c: effie fisarnos#c: effie the alchemist#c: enna helder kromlin#c: anne helder kromlin#c: lauralei#c: thea#my writing#writing#writeblr#writers of tumblr#wip excerpt
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The Forgotten Legends of Chima Sneak Peak (part 6)
The wooden carved clock, sculpted by my friend Eris, ticks a soothing rhythm each passing second. I follow one of its pointers with my eyes as it slowly circles around, passing by the time markings beneath it.
I hover my head on top of the wound; it's still fresh and shiny, even though it stopped bleeding. It bears five claw marks, running on my left arm. The bed sheet I'm laying on top of, covered with red light due to the harsh sun rays hitting my bed curtains, isn't dirty either.
Dull stone walls cover my room, with a few triangular arches carved on them. At least I'm able to view Mount Cavora from here.
My dad really likes you, Mount Cavora. Even if you're a huge, floating mountain, you brought us life, you brought us Chi. The stone heads that bless us with Chi are what brings us all together, whether past or present, same or different species. Lions, Crocodiles, Eagles, Wolves… Ravens, Gorillas, Bears and Rhinos– we would not be what we are today if it weren't for Mount Cavora. The Great Story is a tale of old, marked by the Chi birthing a new civilization, and that's why Chima got its name– Chi knows it all; or that's at least what my dad says.
Steps reverberate all across the circular stairway up to my room. A shadow seems to emerge before the open door. My body jumps in response, dragging the curtain to hide myself and I end up squirming my injured arm.
The stranger moves towards my bed, as the light hits their body, projecting their silhouette on the bed curtains; they appear to be tall yet soft, resting their closed wings behind the back. I sigh in relief, because this animal does not look like the other shadow that attacked me. I shiver while opening the curtain. Mouth open, inhaling deeply.
I stick out my muzzle, and I am greeted by an eagle.
"Oh no! Please pardon me for startling you. That was quite rude of me.", the bird whimpered, "I'm the nurse your father entrusted to help you. My name is Ehboni."
She holds onto the curtain with her yellow scaled hands, adorned with black feathers that cover her wrist. Now that the blinds are open, I can clearly observe her appearance: her entire figure is covered by well-preened and smooth feathers, but they're quite dark, which made me mistake her for 'the' shadow. An expensive silver necklace, with sapphire jewelry, hangs by her fluffy neck. She smiles, opening her yellow beak.
Ehboni crouches near what looks like a box of medical equipment, and then opens it.
"Come closer, Laval. I need to inspect your lesion.", she whispers while organizing her materials.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, then she holds my arm and looks at it. After that, she picks up a medicinal leaf, lays it on top of my wound and bandages it.
My ears fall down, my eyebrows frown; I won't be able to do much for some time, but Ehboni says that it won't take long for me to recover.
"Just make sure you don't put strength on your left arm, okay?", She pets my shoulder.
"Alright… but– did you discover anything about my injury? Is it serious?"
Ehboni puts away her utensils, gets up, and says, "Don't worry, sweetie! You didn't suffer any major damage. I'll let your father know the rest."
She leaves before I could react.
Argh! What is this 'rest'? She barely answered my question. The cut's shape seemed suspicious, yet I'm not supposed to know what it is? I fall on my bed and close my eyes shut.
#tfloc#the forgotten legends of chima#writing#writeblr#writers#writers of tumblr#legends of chima#writerblr#lego legends of chima#lego chima#laval the lion
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Find The Word Tag
Thank you for the tag, @writernopal.
My words to find were home, touch, avail, mold, & inch.
Passing the tag to @andromedaexists, @cljordan-imperium, @aether-wasteland-s, @oh-no-another-idea, @outpost51, and an open tag for anyone else who wants to.
Your words shall be head, melancholy, visit, pattern, & decrease.
Home: The Archivist's Journal, Day 237
I almost hate to say it, but I’m reaching the point where I’m eager to just head back home again. Adventure is nice and all, and I don’t regret coming out here in the slightest, but I’ve grown to like my daily routines. And my little house. And my bed.
Touch: The Archivist's Journal, Day 301
As Sybil listened her face took on a familiar expression, and when she replied it was with a tone driven by an emotion I knew well. That feeling of wishing you had done more in the past for someone you cared about but know not what. A subdued melancholy with just a touch of intertwined pity and guilt.
Avail: The Archivist's Journal, Day 51
Eventually Priscilla chose the island that passes closest to the Village to make a permanent home. It started out as a modest cabin just for her, and then her husband as well, but over the years she and her circle of friends expanded it to a veritable mansion where they’d all stay together for months at a time, one or two of the semi-permanent guests coming or going whenever it docked at Siren Overlook. As time went on though, the guests left more often than they arrived, until it was just the two of them alone up there. No kids, although not for lack of trying. Every time the two of them did come down during those social years they’d make a visit to the Blossom Field, but to no avail.
Mold: Empty Names - 14 - Down Low
With aught better to do, Eris takes a seat and turns her light off once more. A part of her half expected the ensuing darkness to fill up with bioluminescence or veins of glowing magic crystals or something; some sort of chthonic beauty previously hidden by her intruding light. But no, there’s simply the dim, flickering orange glow of the shrine’s candle.
It’s a surprisingly tranquil setting, especially given her circumstances. Then again, she supposes that there are few older human comforts than firelight in a cave. Watching the shadows dance over the splotchy patterns of mold on the walls, it’s not hard to imagine them as being cave paintings, set into motion to tell a story older than writing.
Inch: The Archivist's Journal, Day 203
Now, imagine an endless series of tunnels, rarely wide enough to fit two people side by side without squeezing and sometimes not even that wide. Sometimes they’ll be roughly carved into dirt or raw stone, the footing uneven, with the occasional wooden beam to provide both structural stability and a tripping hazard. Other times it will be worked masonry, maybe barren and geometric, maybe intricately and gothically carved, the tile flooring flat and smooth, slick even, up until you stop paying attention and stub your toe on a loose tile sticking up. Whatever the case, the walls are indented floor to ceiling with alcoves for coffins, caskets, sarcophagi, urns. Any container to hold the dead one might imagine, in numbers that would contain the entire Village in less than an hour of walking. Sometimes they’re further back in, sometimes they’ll be sticking out enough to bump into. Occasionally, you’ll emerge onto a bridge, usually sturdy and well intact, but it may or may not have any semblance of guard rails.
And normally this would all be illuminated by a dim, sourceless light, enough to see where you’re going, but not quite so much that turns and stairs and ramps don’t regularly catch you by surprise. On funerary nights, this visibility decreases to inches, sometimes feet if you’re lucky.
This is the place I find myself every mist night.
#tag game#find the word tag#manuscript search tag#my writing#writers on tumblr#writeblr#writing tag games#the archivist's journal#empty names
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WHERE ARE YOU DIRECTING YOUR ENERGY?
ONE —
Bubbles. Up they go, float like balloons. Colored with muddied tints of blue, purple, white, black. Pop. Another goes, another shows. They are many in number the same time they could vanish all at once, large in size the same way they could become small. They don't touch him but they surround him, live bubble wrap made into a wall. Pop, pop. This wall was restless and tall, too high for anyone to see beyond, too slippery for anyone to climb upon. Blue drips black, purple drips black, white drips black, black drips black. Pop, pop, pop. Where the all the droplets land, no one knows. But they leave their stains, just like the falling rain. Jet black, coal black, pitch black, ink black. Pop, pop, pop, pop.
It's raining, but why does he feel so filthy?
TWO —
"You - hey, you! Yes you, you human child... why are you dragging that poor sword across the ground? Wazzat - you wish to be strong, you say? Ha! But your hands can barely hold the handle of that sword! Start with something your own size, small one!
Huh, who in the blazes - oh, you're that sword dragger from the woods... wait. What do you mean, you broke the wooden sword I lent you!? You punk, that was Lounsbery wood, you hear me!? Sturdy stuff a thing like you shouldn't be able to break! What? You broke it while sparring with a friend!? Hogwash! What in Wonderland is your friend, a dragon!? Sevens, child, don't answer so seriously!
Hmmph, here you are again, thought I nagged you off till next week. Now what do you wa... what you bowing down on the ground for!? Sorry for breaking the sword? And you made a new one!? Now that's absolute bulls - whoa! Watch where you're swinging that thing!
You sure love this part of the forest, dont'cha? Wazzat? Oh, 'cause it's a good training spot... got a point there, I guess. Gonna leave you to it, then... oh, hold up. Never asked why you wanna be strong for. Oh? You wanna serve the prince? As a Royal Guard? Even though you're small stuff and a human? Well, I'll be! You run your mouth pretty wide!
... My name? You've asked me for all sorts of swords for years and now you wanna ask my name? I don't know yours either, you say?! Damn right I don't! Now get that sword off my rack and don't ask again - the only name I'm waiting to hear is the name of Prince Malleus' future human guard!"
THREE —
A human village is littered with tall stones sticking out from lumps of disturbed earth. Every stone is sure to carry a name carved upon its surface, with messages sometimes added underneath. Loyal husband, beloved father. Fifteen years young, lost to the winds. Lovely daughter, proud warrior. One day we shall meet again.
The fae do not share the same level of reverence, the same level of respect the humans had for their fallen. Burying the dead deep under the ground, forming headstones or monuments for them to remember where the dead were laid, prayers and tears and flowers and more tears. The fae did nothing of the sort for their dead, save for the offering of flowers and the shedding of many tears.
But perhaps the humans did what they do was because they were fortunate enough to leave behind their bodies even as they passed on. While the humans let the earth carry their remains, the fae returned everything they were - flesh, blood, magic - to the earth.
And the skies, to the heavens - it is only to them shall every fae would speak their name. A name never to be known by history, a name never to be carved in ink and stone.
The general's smile turns wry.
Having a headstone doesn't sound so bad, though.
FOUR —
12:14 AM
「 u comin home on holiday right 」
「 u better be 」
12:14 AM
「 oooh~! 」
「 so scary! (∩︵∩) 」
「 but yeah kei 」
「 come home k? 」
「 we miss you! (´;︵;`) 」
12:17 AM
「 whats so scary about my msg 」
「 oh yeah dont disappear on us like last time 」
「 tell us if u plan to hang out with ur friend again 」
「 so we can work out a sched 」
「 we cant handle the groceries on our own yknow 」
12:21 AM
「 last years was 」
「 SUUUUUUPER heavy! ( ≧Д≦) 」
「 btw!!!! 」
「 mom plans to make this 」
「 for dessert soooo 」
「 blueberry-raspberry-mousse-cheesecake.png 」
「 we gonna need...................... 」
「 F R U I T!!!!!!!! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ 」
「 dancing-fruit-basket.gif 」
「 fresh ones ofc so get ready for 」
「 morning market tour ( ᐛ )و 」
12:25 AM
「 youre the one who sucks at waking up at the morning tho 」
「 but there you go kei 」
「 tell us as soon as u arrive k 」
12:29 AM
「 (╬ Ò ‸ Ó) 」
「 meanie!!! 」
「 ill wake up before U ull see <(｀^´)> 」
「 ANYWAY! 」
「 see u soon kei!!!!!!!!! (‘∀’●)♡ 」
1: azul + cater reappears for this batch! here's everyone's context:
azul -> breathing (ongoing overblot)
silver -> purpose (pre-game + monologue, a fairy's doing it tho)
lilia -> in memoriam (pre-game, vague war timeline)
cater -> self-control
#twisted wonderland#azul ashengrotto#twst silver#lilia vanrouge#cater diamond#know how being caught under the rain is usually interpreted as something liberating or cleansing??? yeah#azul's reads like some horror piece and yeah i think that's fine... i think lmao#flashbacks of ob victims aside i wonder what's actually going on with them as their consciousness is taken over#there are many ways to go about the fae but for now have my heavily odin sphere inspired perception on fae death lmao#q&a
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Hello! For the fanfic writer ask game I’d want to ask you everything on the list, but for now I’ll 'just' ask 🦋, 👻 and 🎁 <3 btw, thank you for all the delicious Tyki/Alma fics for rarepair week 👀
Aaaa, thank you for sending these!! ^o^ No one else has asked, so you can ask more if you’d like. :3 (Or anything, especially if if’s Tyki/Alma related. >.> I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed that rarepair content! <3)
👻 What is your wildest headcanon?
I’m not sure what would count as “wildest” (it all depends on who you ask, though! XD), but one is that I’ve previously posted here about Tyki being a romantic sap deep down.
The other one I have that I talked to a friend with recently about that also Tyki/DGM related is that he and Sheril are half-brothers. I don’t know how to even explain it, but they just give off that vibe to me? (I just feel like between the different last names and the fact that Tyki has this double life living with his human friends as someone “lower class” it just...makes sense given Sheril’s more obvious wealth and higher social standing? I keep hoping Hoshino will one day release more about them because I have questions. XD)
🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?
Oh my god, yes. XD Since you mentioned Tyki/Alma, this is from my Romeo and Juliet AU, Songbirds in Winter. I’ve been working on it for NaNoWriMo, so here is an excerpt from chapter 15. >.> (Since I only have 2 chapters posted, I tried to pick something good, but without too many spoilers. X3 Enjoy!)
~~~
They crept away, both careful to keep their steps light, the heels of their boots clicking gently against the marble flooring. Alma clung to his cloak, still wearing it as he followed Tyki, the alpha leading him through the ballroom and to the south end of the palazzo. As they approached, Alma could see a series of tall windows, a pair of large, double doors in the center. They were carved of wood and gilded in bronze, the metal bright as it glinted beneath the light of the chandelier.
Tyki paused beside one door, a silver hanger upon the wall, a cloak tossed onto it. Grabbing the cloak, Tyki put it on, smirking at Alma as he did so. “Technically, it’s décor — but it makes for a nice cloak hanger.”
Alma could barely stifle a small laugh, the sound bubbling in his throat. He didn’t know how else to react to the bluntness of Tyki’s admission. “This is a new building, isn’t it? Your family will probably be angry.”
“Let them be angry, then.” Pushing the door open, Tyki held it for Alma.
Alma paused, the gesture polite. He looked at Tyki briefly before breaking eye contact, a small blush coloring his cheeks. “Ah, thanks.”
Tyki didn’t say anything, and Alma stepped outside. He was immediately greeted by the wintry cold, a small shiver wracking his body as he stepped out onto a stone patio, the terrace not yet cleared of snow. Carefully, Alma watched his footing as he walked down the steps, his gaze lifting as he looked around.
The garden was large. It was not as vibrant, with many of the blossoms being dormant due to the cold; however, there were still a few flower beds. Patches of camellias, violas, and winter jasmine. Some pansies, snapdragons, and winterberries. Even in the midst of December, the garden held a beauty to it, a few benches to sit upon and a gazebo farther out.
Tyki followed, stopping just behind Alma. “What do you think?” he asked. “Not as vibrant as in the warmer months, but there’s still some life out here.”
Alma looked around, transfixed. “It’s so pretty,” he said, before walking over to some flowers — some beautiful, purple irises. “We don’t have these at home.”
“The irises? Those are always here.” Tyki looked over at Alma and smirked. “You could always take one for yourself. Sneak it back home and press it in that journal of yours.”
Alma looked back at Tyki, breath catching in his throat. Rubbing his wrist, he looked back at the irises. “Ah, I don’t know…I don’t want to get in trouble for stealing it.”
Tyki snickered. “You won’t.”
Before Alma could reply, Tyki walked past him, the alpha kneeling in front of the irises. Snapping one of the blossoms at the stem, he stood, turning to Alma as he handed it out to him. “Now, if anyone asks, you can say it was a gift. You didn’t steal anything.”
Alma paused, eying the flower. He didn’t take it at first, the omega suddenly appearing ponderous.
Tyki arched a brow. “What?”
Alma blinked, gaze rising. He took the iris, the flower delicate in his grasp. “Oh. It’s just…” He trailed off, words turning a little uncertain. He fingered the purple petals, their texture velvety. “This is…the third time you’ve given me a flower.”
Tyki’s expression turned a little dumbfounded, the alpha seemingly caught off guard by the observation.
Alma floundered, quickly trying to explain. “Ah, I didn’t mean anything badly by it!” he said, still clasping the iris close to his chest. He looked down at it briefly before smiling back at Tyki. “It’s beautiful — I’ll press it when I go home.”
His blue eyes locked with Tyki’s, and Alma stilled. Unable to stop himself, Alma stared into those beautiful molten irises, their warmth apparent and mesmerizing. Alma didn’t think he had ever seen such eyes before.
🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?
Alma! Alma is easily my favorite, hence while about 90% of my fics focus or involve him in some way. XD I’m not sure how I haven’t gotten tired of writing him, but he just has a special place in my heart. :3
Fanfic Writer Ask Game.
#fanfic writer ask#ask game#fanfic ask#ask#anon#anonymous#dgm#tyki mikk#alma karma#romeo and juliet au#thanks for asking!! :3#writing ask
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Writer's Month
Day One: Blossom
Fire and Ice Universe
I stepped through the door behind the throne, and into what felt like another world. Light rushed at my eyes, an assault after the deep shadows of the throne room. The heavy walls, windowless, save for the dual skylights, were replaced by delicate columns that stretched, tree-like, from the ground to form archways above my head. Instead of stone, glass hung between them the columns, suspended in panes taller than I was.
And everywhere, all around, there was green. Low bushes lined a pebbled path. Ivy crawled along trellises. Fruit trees, laden with blossoms, filled the air with a sweet floral scent.
I marveled at the space, open-mouthed. It was like... it was like standing in the forest in the middle of summer. Only not my forest, filled with pines and aspens and birches, but a forest of out of a story. A bubbling stream trickled somewhere. Birdsong trilled in the treetops. Flowers for which I had no names sprouted in vibrant clusters around the room.
I turned to the king to find him watching me. A faint smile played about his lips. "Not what you were expecting, is it?"
I shook my head. I reached out with one boot and toed at the fine carpet of moss stretching over a boulder. The smell of fertile earth washed over me, and I had the vivid, almost too-real feeling of standing in a glade at midsummer.
"This is the last place in our land that remains untouched by the War," the King said. In the bright afternoon sunlight, I could make out the thick frown lines carved around his mouth. "When Fire ravaged our land, my ancestors managed to seal off this place. To preserve it, as a memory of what had come before, and a promise of what will return to us in our future."
I drifted down the path. The damp air caressed my face and tangled in my hair. "I don't understand," I said, almost to myself. "How does no one know this is here?"
I glanced toward the walls, and their preternaturally clear panes of glass. Beyond them, I could see the snow-covered lawn stretching away into the distance. A few hostlers walked horses down the narrow path to the lake.
"A marvel of engineering," the King said. "From the outside, these walls look like slate. You yourself have probably walked by them and never given what they were hiding a second thought."
I frowned, trying to remember the palace's layout. Had I seen these rooms from the outside? Had I assumed they were a pantry or an armory?
"Very few know the secret of these rooms," the King said. He seated himself on a stone bench, sticking one leg out and bracing his palms upon his thighs. "You are in exceedingly rare company, dear Pirja."
The sound of my name on his lips sent a shiver down my spine. Trepidation broke through my surprised daze, and I wheeled to face the King. I executed the full bow I'd been taught before my first presentation before him. "It is an honor, Majesty."
He tilted his head to the side, and that faint smile returned to his lips. "Oh, come now. Such formalities. Were we not friends just one moment ago?"
Anxiety spiked through my chest. "I wouldn't dare to presume such familiarity with you, Exalted One."
I dared a look up at him and found that his smile now dared a hint of teeth. "You are a very loyal soldier, my Pirja, aren't you? Loyal and talented, despite your upbringing."
"I do my best to serve, Majesty."
He waved a hand, dismissing the words, though they clearly pleased him. "Your abilities have grown immensely since we found you, as has your devotion to the cause."
My heart stuttered. "I regret that I ever gave you any cause to doubt my loyalty, Majesty. It is no excuse, but I was young and did not yet understand."
"Yes," the King said. He drummed his fingers on his knees. "Yes, that is true. But we have brought you around, now haven't we? And your particular ignorance was a gift, in some ways. It allowed me to see the limits of our teachings. Where Ice's children have fallen through the cracks."
I bowed low. "I am glad some good might come of my foolishness, Majesty."
He gave a short chuckle, almost to himself. It shook his whole body, jolting him out of repose on the bench. He stood, cracking his shoulders in an oddly human gesture. "This is our most sacred sanctuary," he said. "Spend your afternoon in contemplation of Ice's infinite grace. Afterwards, find Lord Lazar. He will have a new assignment for you. One that can better make use of your unique... talents."
A full-body shiver rolled through me. The King clasped me on the shoulder before he withdrew, whistling an old folk tune under his breath.
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Accidental Crime Boss Marinette
Okay so,, I have this AU in my head, right? (not surprised) and I’m lacking any real direction for it (still not surprised) but it basically goes like this:
Marinette moves to Gotham.
She’s drawn there for whatever reason and the kwami are saying something about balance and being a Guardian and her sacred duty and something but Marinette isn’t really listening. She’s too busy trying to find a shop front where she can open a bakery without having to worry about getting mugged every time she steps outside.
Chloé comes with her, obviously, because they’re friends and Chloé has a business degree she puts to good use actually running Mari’s bakery and online boutique while Mari gets to bake and fuck around basically. Adrien, Luka and Kagami are not there, but that’s mostly because they travel too much to settle down and keeping an empty apartment in Gotham is just asking for trouble.
Kagami is a world-renowned fencer and Luka travels the world for his music company. Not touring, but soaking up cultures and ways of life so he can make soundtracks to movies and tv shows. Providing the background and life to a film is more his style than touring the world ala his father, Jagged Stone.
Adrien is having the time of his life being Kagami’s trophy husband. He has no pressing responsibilities he doesn’t take on for himself and he gets to fuck with the world’s elite with little to no consequences. He spends most of his days donating far too much money to charities and orphanages and then causing minor scandals that land him on the cover of magazines.
He has much the same kind of ‘dumbass with a heart of gold’ persona to the media as Bruce Wayne does, only without the playboy bits.
(There is a wall in the back of the bakery, where Chloé and Mari carefully cut out and frame every headline and ridiculous picture Adrien has. He is very much delighted when he learns about his ‘wall of fame’.)
Anyway, Marinette finds herself with a bakery not overly far from crime alley, much to Chloé’s chagrin.
(“What do you mean it ‘just felt right’?! I swear to kwami, DC, you’re going to get us robbed and sold into slavery.”)
They do not get sold into salvery.
In fact, despite their less than stellar choice of locale, they do pretty well for themselves. The only problems they have (according to Chloé) is the army of children Marinette accidentally attracted.
When asked, Marinette tells everyone that it was an accident. Meanwhile, Chloé, standing behind her, will shake her head and insist there was literally never any other option for them the moment that first kid came in looking to nab some cash and a few pastries.
Mari lives by the phrases, ‘kindness breeds more kindness’ and ‘do unto others’ and all that other nice person shit. Chloé just lets Mari pseudo-adopt her strays and makes sure that they don’t steal anything too important in the time it takes her to gain their loyalty.
The kwami stay staunchly out of any arguments involving the kids (and eventually the homeless all along their street and every working girl in a five-block radius). They do so with a special brand of amusement that never means good things for either of them. (After all, the last time the kwami looked that amused, they moved to Gotham.)
The first kid is named Serrure, as Marinette comes to learn over the next month after he returns again and again, getting closer and closer like a feral cat. Other kids come during that time, all of them too small and too thin and too guarded for Mari's tastes. She wants to wrap them all up and tuck them into bed but she can’t. She has to be patient, has to be gentle. These kids are just as likely to bite her hand as they are to accept help.
Serrure becomes an almost permanent fixture at the bakery after that first month. Mari’s not quite sure what she did to get through to him, but she did, she supposes. He can’t be much older than eleven and looks nine, but after getting settled, she and Chloé discover this little slip of a boy is just as mischievous as Trixx and has all the dramatics of their favorite black cat.
The kwami, when talking about him, only refer to Serrure as Loki, even after Marinette scolds them for it. She eventually gives up trying to correct them, it’s not like Serrure talks to them anyway(yet)((that she knows of)).
There’s an apartment above the bakery, which is where Chloé and Mari and all her strays that grow to trust her enough live. It’s three bedrooms, and at first, Mari just buys as many bunk beds as she can fit into the spare room and calls it a day. The kids feel safe in her home, which isn’t too surprising. Everyone thinks the bakery feels safe, feels like home or comfort or whatever else eases their minds.
And Marinette should hopes so. She certainly put enough time and effort and magic and energy into the wards around this place for that to happen. To protect her and the children and all her strays that no one else will help.
But, she eventually amasses too many kids to fit into the one room. Chloé throws a fit about having to share with Mari again—“I had enough of that in university thank you very much”—but she relinquishes easily enough.
Mari buys more bunk beds, and Serrure has taken to sneaking into her room to curl up in her bed anyway, and sometimes the smaller kids who have nightmares will come in and pile on as well.
(There are only a few that Chloé will allow to do the same with her. It is considered a high honor and breeds a playful kind of jealousy that Chloé finds amusing. Mari scolds her for pitting the kids against each other.)
That only lasts them another two months.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Chloé tells her one day before the kids wake up. Mari is at the stove, cooking and baking for a small army while Chloé balances the books. “There’s not enough room for us all, DC, and the only reason someone hasn’t come barrelling down on us about the abundance of children is by the grace of your absurd amount of luck.”
“Well I can’t just kick them out, Queenie! What do you want from me?”
“Either we need to buy more real estate in this city—which I’d rather not do—or you open up the grimoire and start building pocket dimensions. I know you can. I’ve read the chapter.”
Marinette looks at her. “That is such a bad idea.”
They do the idea.
And then Mari adds about a thousand more wards to the bakery, carved into the wood and counter and anything that’s a permanent fixture. Doorways become particularly ward heavy, what with them being the entrances and exits to the hidden realms and children’s’ rooms.
The apartment above the bakery isn’t quite infinite but it gets pretty damn close some days.
This also means, of course, that all the kids definitely know about magic now. Some of them—Serrure—have known about it for a while she knows, but it’s different now. The kwami followed her around most of the time and she doesn’t keep them trapped in the Miracle Box like Fu did, but now that the kids know, they don’t bother staying hidden.
The children, at least, love them and the kwami adore them with all the ferocity a god can give. After Chloé gets over her ‘ew children’ phase, she throws herself into their education (on top of actually running the businesses Mari keeps, mind you). She has the help of the kwami, who act as personal tutors to the children, and it’s not long before the kids start to joke about her being the Principal.
(Some tried to call her Warden, but that joke didn’t last long.)
Marinette has also been telling the kids bedtime stories ever since this started. Old stories of the Guardian and Chosens who fought back the darkness, she shares all she knows of the Orders history with these kids and it’s not until Wayzz points it out to her does she realize what she’s doing.
“Ladybugs are known for renewal. It is no surprise that you are rebuilding what was lost.”
Rebuilding the Order using children was certainly not her intention but, well. She supposes there’s no place safer for her kids than what is shaping up to be the new Miracle Temple. It’s the only haven where they can learn to harness their Gifts and powers, it’s the only place where they can be surrounded by others like them without being thrust into superhero-dom.
Context: about a month into this whole circus, Marinette had realized there was a significant—almost all of them really—amount of metas and Gifted in her little hoard of strays. Which is… odd. Especially with how few metas there are in Gotham.
She had asked the kwami about it, and they have that amused look again. “You are their guardian.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re their guardian. True, you are the Guardian of us, of the ancient ways, but you are a guardian at your soul too. You protect what is yours, and they are yours whether you realise it or not. The children can sense that, so they flock to you.”
And, huh. She supposes that makes sense but that’s also really kind of strange and weird and she doesn't want to think about that anymore actually.
So things are… fine, Marinette supposes. The bakery is doing well, and she has about two dozen-plus helpers running around underfoot to help tend to the customers or run to the store or help in the back with the baking. And every kid of hers has new clothes, their street things thrown out for being too ragged and replaced with something fresh made by Marinette’s own hands.
She embroiders little fairy wings into the clothes normally, because that’s what her cloaked wards look like most times and the kids like it and its technically the logo for the bakery and there’s a million reasons she does it.
It is, perhaps, her first mistake.
(“It was certainly not your first,” Chloé will snark one dayin the future.)
Because now Marinette has an army of magical children learning to wield their powers and not fear them and they’re all wearing what can be considered her insignia and uh oh, it looks a lot like Mari is some sort of up and coming mob boss who uses kids and prostitutes and the homeless as runners. People on the street start calling her the Pixie, start referring to Chloé—her second in all things just as Chat had been her equal—as Wasp, as Yellowjacket, as the Unseelie.
(They cannot seem to pick a name for her, but Pixie is all but engraved in stone. Mari is not sure who coined it, and she doesn't think she wants to know.)
The first time the whole situation is brought to her attention, she punches the idiot who dared even imply such a thing so hard she knocks him out.
Because look. The kids are hers right? And she watches out for the people near her, makes sure the working girls are treated as well as they can be and offers the homeless extra food and a dry place to wait out the storm. She offers her hand and gives them all a place to rest, to eat, to exist without expectations or consequences.
She does that because she’s kind, because it hurts her to see people in need, to see them suffer, not because she’s hoping to gain something from it.
The fact that most of them repay her in gossip or information or bend her ear about the newest goings on in the corrupt elite or filthy underworld is strange, yes, but it’s nice to know what’s going on in the city, she supposes. And one time, Kathy, who works on the corner of Brookes and Gilmore, warned her of a drug raid that saved her an unnecessary trip to the police station so it’s not like it doesn't have it’s uses.
But mostly, Mari doesn't really think about all the information that’s unintentionally or otherwise passed onto her. She remembers it all, because it’s rude not to listen when people talk to her, but nothing comes of normally.
Not until Serrure—now twelve and well versed in the magic of illusions and glamors and knows almost as much about this city as her or the Bats—bursts into the bakery one day and grabs Mari away from the front counter right in the middle of a customer ordering. She should, perhaps, be a little angry at that but Tony, one of the older boys and just shy of sixteen, steps into her place almost immediately, so.
And then Serrure speaks and everything is pushed aside in favour of the next words to fall from his lips.
“Someone took Sophie,” he says and she nearly sees red.
After Serrure, Sophie has been here the longest. She is the youngest of them all, only seven, but oh so clever and kind and while she looks nothing like her, everyone calls her Mini-Mari. If Serrure is her beloved first son, Sophie is her treasured daughter.
She’s out the door in the next moment, storming her way to their base. She has Sophie and a handful of extra kids back by sunset, a little frightened, but no worse for wear. She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, besides making sure that the idiots who dared cross her never do so again, but word gets out.
Soon, her kids and teens and adults begin giving her more than just information, they begin giving her problems. Ones she’s meant to fix because she’s Pixie. She’s safety, she’s protection, she’s the one the people start to turn to for help.
And enter stage left, one Jason Todd who’s all snark and charm and smiles wrapped up in a nice leather bow and tall enough that Mari likely could climb him like a tree. If that was something she wanted, she guesses.
(She wants. She just won’t admit.)
He becomes a regular at the bakery and befriends most of her kids.
Mari’s wary when he first takes an interest in them. They’ve been hurt and a lot of them are still adjusting to being safe and it doesn't matter that this man is hot enough to burn, if he steps even a toe out of line with her kids she’ll make him wish he was never even born.
But, she stops worrying eventually. The kwami like him well enough, but seem to think something’s odd about him—but its Gotham, who isn’t strange?—and both Serrure and Sophie take to him like ducks to water and they’re both good judges of character.
There’s a certain intuition they both have that reminds Marinette just a bit too much about herself and pure magic. Not for the first time does she wonder if they got such strong magic from their parents or if it cropped up in them randomly, fostered by fortune and chance and the magic that’s so deeply seeped into the bones of her bakery it’ll be here long after she’s gone.
And, okay, so she was a little right to be wary because Jason was mostly there to investigate her. Far too many people respect her and are loyal to her and she has a veritable orphanage in her pocket and also Harley and Ivy like her and it just- it doesn’t look good right?
But Jason’s a good detective and it doesn't take him long at all to see that Mari is just as sweet and kind and loving as she appears to be. Not long after that, Red Hood declares Pixie and all of hers, under his protection. She, of course, is more than capable of taking care of her and hers, and the underworld knows this, has seen it, but he does it anyway.
The news, of course, gets back to Mari and she is… confused. Why would the Red Hood do something like that? She’s heard talk of him being sweet on kids, but to claim her? They’ve never even met.
Bonus points for Jason being there when she’s told about it. He kind of raises his eyebrow at her because, huh, that was fast, and then spends the next few minutes talking up the Red Hood to her much to her utter bafflement.
He actually keeps doing that too, talking up the Red Hood. Mari thinks he has a crush on the man for the longest time because of it. Until he reveals he is Red Hood, then she just wants to punch his stupidly handsome face for being such an idiot.
Shit happens from there and things go down and the two spend a couple of months dancing around each other and intentionally and unintentionally ruling the criminal underworld and at one point Marinette definitely punches Bruce and Batman in the face—separately, much to Jason’s unending joy—and she also definitely adopts Duke/Signal as well because that poor boy needs to know he’s not alone.
And it’s just them being domestic and badass and lowkey raising an army of children and falling in love while the kwami and the kids and Chloé are all in the background just yelling at them to get together already!
Which, they do. Eventually. After all the secrets come out and Jason knows about the magic and Order and meets Mari’s other friends, ie Kagami, Luka and Adrien who are all intimidating for wildly different reasons. And Mari finds out that Jason died and came back (which earns him the nickname firebird btw) and that he was a Robin once upon a time but is now Red Hood and oh my kwami it all makes sense now.
Jason confesses like three times via classic Victorian romance novel quotes because he’s a fucking literature nerd but it’s not until he basically spells it out for Mari does she really understand. it’s all very sweet and heartwarming and then the pair duck into one of the empty pocket dimensions they have lying around and aren’t seen for three days.
(No one really goes to look for them tbh)
Chloé definitely teases them about early honeymoons and things but besides the two being even more ridiculously lovey-dovey than usual, life goes back to normal. Or as normal as it gets for them.
And they all live happily ever after the end.
#maribat#jasonette#my typewriter#batfam#crime boss mari#miraculous ladybug#dc#mlb x dc#i was possessed by the need to write this all down#i have so many random ass moments from this au#just scenes taht barely fit together#zero coherency#let me know if yall want that ig#?
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The New Weirdo From Shadyside Pt 7: The End Of Everything Goode
Nick Goode x Plus Size Reader
Warning(s): Swearing, Fear street spoilers/stuff, Nick Goode, d slur
Word count: 1166
Summary: The final battle…
Part one, two, three, four, five, six, eight
Slowly opening your eyes, feeling the cold ground under you, you looked around and saw names carved into the wall. Your eyes landed on the names Thomas Slater and Ryan Torres. You jumped into a sitting position realizing where you were… in the tunnel from your dreams.
“Shit, shit!” You whispered to yourself, looking at the ground a few feet away from you, was the same carving as the Goode book and your dream.
“You’re awake.” Nick said, from a few feet away from you, you glared at him.
“Why Ryan? Why my sweet goofy friend? Did you choose him because you were jealous?” You asked, trying to conceal the tears in your eyes.
“He was always flirting with you, we couldn’t have that, could we?” He said
“I’m not some prize you can win and He was joking, you douchebag. plus he liked Heather and I loved you but I guess I never even loved you, at least not the real you.” You said.
“But I still love you, one day you’ll love me again too. And since we’re talking about horrible things I’ve done, I paid those guys to scare you in the cornfield.” He said.
“My friends’ blood was on your hands even before you pulled that trigger in the mall, Your hands were bloody even before you carved Ryan’s name on that wall, you carved Tommy Slater’s name and allowed all those people to be killed. You’re a fucking asshole murderer, So tell me why would I ever love you again?” you said.
“One day you’ll realize why I had to do that.” He argued
“I’m gonna be the death of you, even if it’s the last thing I do!” you said in anguish.
“Good luck with that love! Oh look at the time, gotta go!” He exclaimed walking out of the cave
You pointed your middle finger at him. You started sobbing in your arms, then screamed when the echoes of his footsteps disappeared.
Calming your beating heart, grabbing the cave’s wall, boosting yourself up from the ground.
“I have to find a way out of here or something.” You thought, leaning on the cave’s wall limping.
“Y/n~” you heard the same voice from your dream say further into the tunnel out of the “room” you were in, the voice led further into the cave to a strange thing that looked like a beating heart.. of the cave.
“Y/n.” the voice said again like it wanted you to touch it. “Are you sure it’s safe?” You asked the voice.
“Yes.. do it” the voice whispered, you got closer to the thing slowly touched it. Visions flashed before you it was… THE WHOLE TRUTH.
You gasped, limping backwards, almost falling on the ground. You felt blood drip down your face from your nose, tears rushed down your face.
The whole Goode family was purely EVIL.
All the men in the Goode family ever did was betray the ones they supposedly loved. And Sarah Fier was the voice from dreams and now.
~
“Goode!” You heard Deena shout.
“Nick!”
“Solomon forged this place with nothing but words and stone-” You heard Nick say somewhere in the tunnel
“Awaking this power from the depths of the earth.”
“He extended his hand to the darkness for my family..”
“Deena?” You whispered to Deena.
“For me.” Nick said
“Y/N? Shit did Nick put you down here?” Deena whispered to you.
“Y-yeah!” You stuttered to Deena.
“That Bastard! Wanna help kill him? we need to hurry” Deena whispered to you.
”300 years it’s lived, grown. we’ve cultivated it,” Nick shouted.
“We sacrificed for it! And you think you can stop it?”
“Up, up, down, down” Deena whispered to herself.
“Left, right, B A and start.”
Everything happened so fast, Sam who seemed possessed ran after Deena, Nick pushed you against the cave wall. you tried to push him away but he knocked you unconscious with a rock.
~
“Looking for this?” You heard Nick.
You slowly gained consciousness
“No! No! No!” Deena screamed.
“You’re gonna be famous.”
“Shadyside's newest piece of shit makes the front page! Local d*ke slays girlfriend, friends, brother.” Nick said, Deena screamed. you looked for a weapon, your eyes meeting the rock Nick used on you, you grabbed the rock rushing over to them.
“They’re gonna give me a fucking medal.” Nick remarks, you hit him over the head with the rock, he falls off Deena and drops the knife.
“Y/n! We can still be together” he defends, staring at you.
“Ah yes I totally want to be with a murderer that got
my friends killed, and calls queer women slurs and oh I’m not straight for your information!” you screamed at him.
He kicks you in the ankle, you screamed falling down on the hard ground, the air knocked out of your lungs.
He straddles you, his hands going around your throat choking you. You kicked and pushed him to no effect, looking into his eyes.. you realized they weren’t an ocean tide bringing you to safe sand, they were rough ocean tide that pulled you out to the middle of the ocean dragging you to the bottom… danger and death.
Your throat felt like it was being crushed into tiny pieces. Feeling like your world was caving in, you heard the voice say. “Y/N~ Deena~” from near the beating heart of the cave.
You and Deena grabbed Nick’s wrist slamming his hand on the beating heart of the curse, he let go of your neck, you coughed getting oxygen in your lungs.
Nick stands up backing away from you, Deena who seemed to be possessed by Sarah stabs Goode in the eye. She takes out the knife and his body falls to the ground, Non Possessed Deena gasps, yells.
All the heaviness and darkness of the room went away, the heart of the curse swallowed up.
Deena runs over to Sam “Sam!” “Sam, can you hear me? Sam?” Sam sits up, they kiss
“Are you okay?” Deena asks Sam. “Are you?” Sam asks Deena. Deena takes off her flannel to show a shield of books, Taking it off.
“Let’s get Y/N and get outta here.” Deena said to Sam
Helping her up, walking over to you.
“Are you okay?” Deena asks you
“Not really but I’m glad he’s dead!” you said
“I’ve always fucking hated cops!”
“Me too, me too! Can you walk?” Deena asks
“Not really.” You said,
“We’ll help you!” Deena said, helping you up from the ground, putting your arm around her shoulder and Sam put your other arm around her shoulder. Walking out of the cave.
~
You, Deena, and Sam met up with the rest of the group Josh, Kate, Christine (Ziggy), and Martin.
“Deena! Sam! Y/n!” Kate screamed excitedly, running up to you three, hugging Deena and sam. “I’m so glad you guys are okay.” She said to them, then hugged you squeezing you tight. “I’m so glad you’re okay y/n.” She said. “I’m so glad you’re okay too Kate!” You said.
Author’s note: I hope you like part 7!! Only one part left!!😭😭💜 💜 You didn’t think I would give Nick a happy ending did you? He deserved the ending he got and more horribleness!
Also I kinda changed how the heart of the curse worked, to sometimes Sarah can show the whole truth to who touched it!
Taglist: @puck-the-puppy @simpotathoe @ang3licho3-deactivated20211230
#nick Goode#nick goode x reader#nick goode 1994#plus size reader#nick goode x plus size reader#chubby reader#neurodivergent reader#autistic reader#shy reader#older nick goode x reader#fear street#fear street 1994#fear street x reader#fear street x plus size reader
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hhehehe, I heard prev tags and bring you content >:3. -*inhales*- SO, Gem is super into old tomes and books because when she was younger her grandmother had those things, so when she and her parrents moved out to the city she forgot a lot of details in the books but there's one spell/rune/sigil that she remembers, and sometimes just draws from memory, out of bordem. Turns out when you're a busy college student moving around and constantly phoning a demon, you're kinda hard to catch so one night when Gen and a few friends were hanging and Gem got boerd she started doing it again and Implue shows up like, "I've been getting these calls for 3+ years, how have you done this??" and Gems like "Oh that is the COOLEST".
If you're hanging out with your friend in their dorm and have nowhere to actually be, you know the point when everyone has wound down and really should be going back to their own, seperate dorms ad different points in the hall and up or down a few floors, but no one wants to be the first one to leave because you're already comfortable and moving would be a hassle so everyone is just waiting to follow the cue of someone else.
It is this mood that finds Gem finishing the carving of that old sigil she would sometimes doodle while bored into the amethyst piece her grandmother had given her as a gift when she started university. It had supposedly been handed down in their family for generations.
"That's really well done." Pearl leaned over to get a better look at the carving. "How did you get it so circular freehand? I know you only have the one piece so you didn't have practice."
"I guess after scribbling it so often, it just baceme muscle memory at this point."
"Or you inharited your ancestors obsession with specifically shaped amethysts."
"Shut it, Cleo." Gem almost rolled her eyes at that reference. "How do you even know that story? I can't even find reference to it in the academy library-" Gem felt the final wall between the carved portions of the amethyst surface cave and refocussed in on her work. "Oh, I'm done-"
The amethyst exploded, but Gem felt the pain before it finishes. Her hand holding the stone shot out, vaulting the exploding rock across the room.
Gem nearly blacked out from the pain. She didn't want to look down at her hand, both of fear of the mangled mess it may have become, and for fear of looking away from the figure that had materialized from from the blast of purple light to crush her desk, obscured in the lingering smoke.
Gem felt... an odd mix of confusion, fear, and excitement as the details of that half remembered story accompanying the sigil.
Impulesffe, his story focused more on a lust for knowledge annd wanderlust than it did the form of desire one would most associate with a demon called the Embodiment of Lust.
Demons are real. Magic is real. The thought repeated in her head as she stared at the creature in front of her. Wings spread from its back, horns from its head, as it stood even hunched I became clear the room was almost too small for it- him, more correctly. An odd thought that was, remembering that the master in front of her had preferred pronouns as she potentially faced death.
"I am so sorry!" He spoke, and his face was clearly panicked a bit as the smoke cleared enough to see it. "Since you'd been trying to summon me so often I figured it was urgent and now that you finally had a powerful enough catalyst, I materialized as soon as possible without checking my surroundings if it was safe." A sudden realization came over his face. He spoke as he turned to Gem, a more serious look on his face. "Right, why have you called upon me. Summoner?"
"Pfft-hahahahhahah-" Cleo burst out laughing. Pearl looked amused. The demon looked embarrassed now.
"Oh no, has there been a mix up?"
Gem started to lean into how cool the situation was that she had just summoned an actual demon. "Are you Impulesffe?"
The demon seemed to flinch at the name. Most people pronounce it Impulse SV, or just call me Impulse, bust yes. That is I"
"Do you grant wishes? Can I refuse my wishes? I don't really want to sell my soul."
"Um. Okay? No... I... don't do those sorts of deals. You...summoned me by contract."
Impulse motioned to Gem's left hand, which she now realized had stopped stinging. The three girls looed at it, and now noticed there was now a bright glowing violet rendition of the sigil Gem had just carved seemingly tattooed to her hand.
"...So, are you stuck here now until this is brokern?"
"No... you dismiss me when you desire. The contract can't be broken either. We're bound until your death."
"Ah. Goodbye then."
"Wha-" The demon vanished, and Gem forced her friends out of her dorm.
That was a lot of information she's sort through at a later date. For now, she headed to bed, head still spinning. A demon contractor. She had to see if her grandma still had that book.
#geminitay#pearlescentmoon#zombiecleo#impulsv#college contractor au#for now#we can figure a better name out later#hermitcraft fanfic#hermitcraft au
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The Final Mortal
Ren The Ocean Knight AU
Good morning/afternoon/evening/4 am. I felt like making some people cry today :)
"What is this place?" Dawn looked around the overgrown cave. It was covered in moss, vines, glow berries, and flowers that had somehow managed to grow despite being hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of feet below the surface of the ocean.
"A final resting place." The queen in front of her answered, kneeling on the ground. "For an old friend."
Dawn peered around Queen Lizzie, and noticed a gravestone, intricately carved with cod, axolotls, and... wolves? The three creatures ran along the border, as if chasing one another in a cycle. Two wolves sat on either side of the name, as if standing guard over whoever was buried here.
It was beautiful, and unlike everything else, it wasn't covered in plant life.
"Why did you show me this?" It felt like a scene frozen in time, untouched by everything. Despite the ivy covered walls, it was obvious that this place had been well taken care of.
"Someone might as well know it's down here." Lizzie plucked a flower from the ground, watching as it regrew instantly. "The last person besides Jimmy and I to come here was Lady Katherine. She made sure this place would never wither or fade."
Dawn startled. "Lady Katherine? The first?" Lizzie nodded. "But she-" She cut herself off. She knew the queen of the oceans was ancient, but she never truly understood how ancient. Lady Katherine, as a fae, had lived and ruled for a very long time. But still, she had been dead for thousands of years.
Who exactly was this place for? The teen took a few steps forward and looked at the name carved into the stone.
Rendog.
"He was my knight." Lizzie said, moving over and patting the ground next to her when she saw Dawn approaching. "Although 'knight' isn't really an accurate term for who he was to me. He was more of a brother than anything."
"Oh." Dawn said softly. She coughed into her hand a few times, trying her best to hide it. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright. He's been gone for a long time." The queen sighed fondly. "Although doesn't feel that long, you know?" She laughed softly. "It's been a couple millennia at this point, but I still remember his birthday every year. I still remember waking up in the middle of the night and finding him outside my door, looking for all the world like a puppy. I haven't forgotten his face any more than I've forgotten Joel's."
"... How old are you?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. Thankfully, Lizzie didn't seem to get offended.
"That's what they always ask, you know that?" Lizzie shook her head. "I'm never able to tell them. Truthfully, I don't know. I just know that I'm far older than you could possibly comprehend. I was here long before the empires, long before humanity, and it seems I'll be here long after it."
Dawn tried to think of a response to that, but instead, she began coughing again. It turned into a fit, that vibrated deep within her chest and wracked her body with tremors.
"Oh dear." She felt the ocean queen's webbed hands drape across her shoulders. "Let's get you back to the surface."
~~~
Dawn knew she didn't have much time left. Everyone she knew had already fallen to the plague that swept across the server.
There was no discernible cause for it. It wasn't a demon this time, or an evil god, or anything they could fight. Doctors were stumped by it, the gods could do nothing but watch, and even the ocean queen couldn't find a remedy.
She must've been the last mortal alive. That's what she'd been told, and it made sense to her. Why else would the two most ancient beings, older than the gods themselves, take such an interest in her?
She was nothing special. Just a lonely teenager walking in an empty world.
Her last moments were spent in the Prisma Palace. The sun was going down, and her vision was fading in and out. She knew that the Codfather and the Ocean Queen were by her. She was pretty sure her head was resting in the Codfather's lap. A scaly hand gripped her own, while another ran through her hair gently.
Who would keep them company once she was gone, Dawn wondered. They would only have one another, wouldn't they?
She frowned, suddenly sad. Not because of her impending death, but because she would be leaving behind her friends. Creatures that could never die, that would walk this Earth until its very end.
It wouldn't be her concern much longer. She felt the sensation of touch draining from her hand, everything becoming foggy and distant.
She might've smiled, or she might've not, because soon she would be with her friends and her family again. She'd get to see everyone at last, and she wouldn't be alone anymore.
She closed her eyes for a final time, and wondered if she would get to meet this Ren in the afterlife.
Then everything went silent.
~~~
I don't think Dawn counts as an empires sona but I also didn't come up with her so I'm going to credit @letmegethelpplease anyway ^-^
#ren the ocean knight au#empires smp#last life smp#rendog#ldshadowlady#solidarity gaming#solidaritygaming#Dawn of the Codlands
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I don't think antis know about meaning of 'willowy'. When Jon said that Val is a warrior princess not a willowy creature brushing her hair, willowy is not an insult. It means tall, slender and graceful. And Sansa qualifies as willowy brushing her and like knights. It seems like Jon throwing shade on Sansa, but why? Considering he liked her brushing Lady hair and he himself wanted to be knight. Why he subtly remember Sansa while differentiating her with Val?
This is what I wrote about Val and the willowy creature line a while ago:
Val
Repeat after me: Val is not a warrior woman. Again: Val is not a warrior woman. One more time: Val is not a warrior woman. If you don’t believe me, then read this:
However, in my own defense, I should note that Dalla was not a “warrior woman” per se. She was from a warrior culture, yes; one that gave women the right, but not the obligation, to be fighters. Ygritte was a warrior woman, as was (most conspicuously) the fearsome Harma Dogshead. Dalla and Val were not.
[Source]
But you may say, ¿What about the “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” quote?
Well, as GRRM has stated many times, all his POVS are “Unreliable Narrators”. Being from a “warrior culture” doesn’t make you automatically a “warrior woman”. But here is Jon Snow “deciding” that Val was a “warrior princess”. Once again, the contrast, the dichotomy in one single person: ¿A warrior like Arya, a princess like Sansa? Not that Arya has ever fought in a war, but you get my point. And Sansa was created following the princess archetype.
I will show you one of my favorite Jon’s passages that will serve us to read “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” line with a better and more revealing light:
I call this passage the “Jon -It’s nothing special- Snow”. Or as we say in Spanish when we can’t get what we really want: “Al cabo que ni quería”, that can be translated as “I didn’t even want it anyway”. Let’s see:
"Oh, I learn things everywhere I go.” The little man gestured up at the Wall with a gnarled black walking stick. “As I was saying … why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what’s on the other side?” He cocked his head and looked at Jon with his curious mismatched eyes. “You do want to know what’s on the other side, don’t you?”
“It’s nothing special,” Jon said. He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder’s wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted. “The rangers say it’s just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice.”
—A Game of Thrones - Jon III
I mean… COME ON! This is one of the most telling passages to know, to really know Jon’s true nature, and it’s very, very similar to the quote about “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair”:
They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI
“Some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.” Nah, it’s nothing special, I didn’t even want it anyway, not for me, no.
“It’s nothing special,” Jon said. He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder’s wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted. “The rangers say it’s just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice.”
Do I have to say more???
Actually, yes, I have.
Jon Snow does really want a lady. Jon Snow does really want to be a knight and rescue a maiden. Jon Snow does really want a lady to love and be loved back by her. Here some evidence:
Jon Snow wished that his mother were a highborn lady: “Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind.”
Jon Snow wanted to be a hero like the Prince Aemon Dragonknight. The same Prince Aemon that jousted in a tourney, won it, and crowned his sister and lady love “Queen of Love and Beauty”, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “The Dragonknight once won a tourney as the Knight of Tears, so he could name his sister the queen of love and beauty in place of the king’s mistress”.
Jon Snow tried to comfort Gilly with courtesy: “Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower.” “That’s pretty.” He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her”.
Jon Snow put Ghost between Ygritte and him and remembers that knights put their swords between their ladies and themselves, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor’s sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword”.
Jon Snow imagined romancing Ygritte as if she were a lady: “If I could show her Winterfell … give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us”.
Jon Snow wished for a domestic life in Winterfell, with his wife and children: I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. […] I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister’s son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly’s boy as well. […] Mance’s son and Craster’s would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.
He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily”.
Jon is a romantic that called his mare “sweet lady”.
Jon Snow closer friends in the Night’s Watch are Samwell Tarly and satin, they are literally male!Sansas.
Jon remembers fondly Sansa’s more feminine and ladylike traits: her romantic nature, her courtesies, her singing.
It’s also worth to mention that, despite Val’s beauty and physical attractiveness, Jon Snow, once again, appreciates her being maternal and singing to Gilly’s son, but was turned off by Val saying she would kill Princess Shireen:
“I have heard you singing to him.”
“I was singing to myself. Am I to blame if he listens?” A faint smile brushed her lips. “It makes him laugh. Oh, very well. He is a sweet little monster.”
“Monster?”
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VIII
Once outside and well away from the queen’s men, Val gave vent to her wroth. “You lied about her beard. That one has more hair on her chin than I have between my legs. And the daughter … her face …”
“Greyscale.”
“The grey death is what we call it.”
“It is not always mortal in children.”
“North of the Wall it is. Hemlock is a sure cure, but a pillow or a blade will work as well. If I had given birth to that poor child, I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago.”
This was a Val that Jon had never seen before. “Princess Shireen is the queen’s only child.”
“I pity both of them. The child is not clean.”
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI
Wait a minute! Val was “singing to herself” like Jon’s memory of Sansa “singing to herself” while brushing out Lady’s coat???
Where did Jon get this idea of “some willowy creature that only brushes her hair” from??? It could be from his half sister Sansa, a literal princess, now trapped in a tower, that always brushed her hair and even brushed out her direwolf’s fur???
“She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone” —Sansa
“Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone.” —Eddard
I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. —Catelyn
He thought […] Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. —Jon
And I also suspect that when Jon said this about Val:
Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.
They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI
He was remembering another pretty girl, princess like, next to a direwolf, looking as though they belong together.
A young beautiful girl, that everyone considers a princess, next to a direwolf???
Val is a beautiful young woman, Sansa is a beautiful young maiden.
Val has long blonde hair the color of dark honey which she wears in a braid. Val actually take care of her hair, enough to braid it, like Sansa that always brushes it. And if you google “dark honey” hair color you will find a variety of reddish brown (auburn) and reddish blonde hair colors.
Val has high sharp cheekbones, like Sansa.
Val’s eyes are pale grey or blue. Again the grey/blue eyes pattern…
Val is slender with a full bosom, like Sansa.
So?
Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him. […] It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.
Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself.
Think about it!
* * *
For anyone interested, this is an excerpt from this post.
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