I’ve seen a couple of these posts, so I thought I’d try my hand at it. Go through the potential combinations of Ilvermorny and Hogwarts houses and write a bit about what they represent to me. Not based on any data or polling, just on what seems to make sense to me:
Thunderbird Gryffindor: Thunderbird house is said to favour adventurers, and this is perhaps the most literal interpretation. Thundergryffins tend to be explorers and thrill seekers. Their bravery is not necessarily geared to some righteous cause (though this combo does not preclude that) they simply want their life filled with excitement. As such they can be easily bored which can make them irascible if they are deprived of stimulation. But they are bound to make interesting the lives of any who calls them friend.
Thunderbird Hufflepuff: Thunderpuffs focus on is on experiencing things with friends. These people are not ones for solitude, they will go stir crazy left on their own for a couple of days. It seems they’re always on lunches out, at parties, on trips. It’s not so much the activity that matters so much as the company. They just love people and want to experience as much of mankind as possible.
Thunderbird Ravenclaw: This is my house combination. Thunderclaws are the creatives and innovators. Luna and her parents would all find themselves in this category. If Thunderbirds are adventurers, Thunderclaws prefer to adventure via stories - sitting curled up with a good book as their mind takes them to far off worlds beyond anything that can be experienced in reality. They are dreamers and idealists and can often get their heads lost in the clouds. It can be painful for them when their dreams do not match up with reality and perhaps the oft-found obsession with fiction is an escape.
Thunderbird Slytherin: Thunderins are definitely more on the ambitious side of Slytherin house. They aspire to achieve greatness. For them their adventure is the road to success, and the luxuries that success brings. They definitely appreciate the finer things in life and their ambition tends to be towards living the high life rather than being some lofty goal. Nonetheless Thunderins are often some of the most driven and passionate folk you will ever meet.
Wumpus Gryffindor: Unshakeable in their convictions and unmatched in their tenacity, Wumpindors are soldiers through and through. Their causes may be righteous or not, but like the beast from which House Wumpus gets its name, Wumpindors are nigh unstoppable. This combo has a dark reputation and Wumpindors may tend towards anger and aggression. They can be quick to see force as the best option in a crisis. They are ultimately fighters - Not merely people who will fight, but people for whom fighting is their way of life and their first resort.
Wumpus Hufflepuff: If you think of the quintessential social justice warrior, that is a Wumpuff. I do not use the term SJW in an inherently negative term as many do. Rather, Hufflepuffs are concerned with honour and fairplay and as such Wumpuffs cannot stand seeing injustice in the world and seek to eradicate it. They will fight fiercely to protect their friends, but their protective instincts apply to the whole world. This can result in them lashing out at people who they see as part of the problem but at their hearts they simply wish to fight for a better world.
Wumpus Ravenclaw: Wumpenclaws are the practical Ravenclaws. These people have ideas and they want them implemented damn it! They are excellent planners and incredibly organised. This combo favours strategists, business leaders and entrepreneurs.
Wumpus Slytherin: Ruthlessness incarnate, Wumperins have lofty ambitions and will do absolutely anything to achieve them. This is probably the combo with the darkest reputation. I would put Voldemort himself in this category. But do not let you think this is an inherently bad combo, any more than Slytherin itself is. If a Wumperin’s ambition is a benign one their passion for achieving their goals is bound to result in success. And if their cause is righteous, a Wumperin can spark a revolution.
Pukwudgie Gryffindor: Anyone would be fortunate to call a Pukindor a friend, for they are perhaps the fiercest allies one could have. Their loyalty and the bonds of friendship that they form are unbreakable. When their friends are down and out they will be the ones to light a fire beneath them, and then rain hell down on whoever did their friend wrong.
Pukwudgie Hufflepuff: In my mind Puffs and Puks have a lot of similarities, so a Puklepuff represents the idea of the quintessential Hufflepuff. These people are the gentlest souls you will ever meet, kind, nurturing and supportive. The Cinammon Rolls of the world. They may well be great cooks or simply have a great love of food - or indeed of anything which brings people together.
Pukwudgie Ravenclaws: Pukenclaws are people who use their ideas and intellect to help others. Pukwudgies are known for being healers and it is in this combination that that becomes most literal - Pukenclaws are often Doctors, nurses, vets or surgeons. In their day to day life they are adept at finding the easiest solutions to problems - the masters of “lifehacks”.
Pukwudgie Slytherin: I’ve often said that Slytherins are the type of people to low-key ruin the lives of anyone who wrongs their friends. People often overlook that Slytherins are incredibly loyal to one another and it is in the Pukerin combo that this quality shines through. The focus here is less on ambition and more on cunning and ruthlessness - more specifically the cunning and ruthlessness required for the Pukerins family (be that literal and/or metaphorical) to survive. And when they or their loved ones are wronged, they are not above enacting a terrible, yet subtle vengeance.
Horned Serpent Gryffindors: Serpendors are people with an area (or areas) of expertise and they know it. They are self-assured in what they are good at (and know what they are bad at) and this surety results in unmatched confidence and competence in that area. That classic Gryffindor bravery comes through in their ideas and their execution. They are independent and efficient. Hermione would be a proud Serpendor, as would McGonagall.
Horned Serpent Hufflepuffs: An unusual combination, as the warmth and heart of Hufflepuff may seem at odds with the detached analysis of Horned Serpent. However funnily enough I think that Isolt Sayre herself falls into this combo. Serpenpuffs know people. They are excellent judges of character and know what makes people tick. They may find promising careers in psychology. They are well meaning but they may feel the need to coddle their friends and family (just as Isolt refused to tell her children of Gormlaith even into their teenage years) and they can at times be aloof and irascible. If you are friends with a Serpenpuff you can probably expect a couple of fallings out (just as Isolt did with William), but in the end they care for their loved ones deeply.
Horned Serpent Ravenclaws: These two houses share many similarities, and of the four Ilvermorny Houses, Horned Serpent is the one with the most direct Hogwarts counterpart here. As such Serpentclaws represent the “stereotypical” Ravenclaw. Aloof, cool and analytical, these are the academics. Their work is done in papers and in the lab, but the implications can be world changing. They need to be mentally stimulated at all times and as such prefer the company of other intellectuals.
Horned Serpent Slytherins: Slytherserpents have a focus on the cunning aspect of Slytherin house. They are always the ones with the plan and that plan is more often than not at least a little underhanded. While other Slytherins may let their ambitions outmatch their abilities, Slytherserpents never have this problem. They do not achieve their ends through brute force and ruthlessness (as Wumperins do) but through subtle tricks and manipulations.
“We’re going to explore the outside world someday, right? Far beyond these walls, there’s flaming water, land made of ice, and fields of sand spread wide. It’s the world my parents wanted to go to.” - Armin Arlert
the creatives and innovators. If Thunderbirds are adventurers, Thunderclaws prefer to adventure via stories - sitting curled up with a good book as their mind takes them to far off worlds beyond anything that can be experienced in reality. They are dreamers and idealists and can often get their heads lost in the clouds. It can be painful for them when their dreams do not match up with reality and perhaps the oft-found obsession with fiction is an escape. (source)
Although the precise circumstances surrounding the makers’ loss of their map are not given in the Harry Potter novels, it is easy to conclude that they eventually over-reached themselves and were cornered by Argus Filch, probably on a tip-off from Snape, whose obsession it had become to expose his arch-rival, James Potter, in wrongdoing. The masterpiece of a map was confiscated in Sirius, James, Remus and Peter’s final year and none of them were able to steal it back from a well-prepared and suspicious Filch. In any case, their priorities changed in their final months at school, becoming far more serious and focused on the world beyond Hogwarts, where Lord Voldemort was successfully rising to power. All four of the map’s creators would shortly be inducted into the renegade organisation headed by Albus Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix, and a map of their old school - no matter how ingenious - would no longer be of use to them except as a piece of nostalgia.
Monty supposes he should feel grateful to be on the Ark.
It was easier to feel that way before. Before getting sent down to the ground. Before, when all he knew was the space station’s dull grey walls, the muted thud of the aluminium floors under his feet.
But after a year of greenery and fresh air and the lightly salted wind on his face, the Ark just seems like one big, endless nothing.
He’s tasted of the Earth and its simple riches, and, honestly? Bloodthirsty Grounders and black rain aside, nothing quite compares.
But at least… at least he has his friends. The only thing that makes getting out of bed worth it, really. Raven’s razor sharp wit, keeping everyone on their toes. Emori’s quiet confidence, encouraging everyone to keep going. Murphy’s lazy drawl, instilling a peculiar but welcome sense of normality amidst the slow toil of reconstructing their lives.
Harper. The soothing sound of her voice, like a balm to his unsteady nerves. The gentle caress of her hand against his. Her smile.
And all of them… they have Bellamy.
At first, Monty had been worried. He knows he’s not the only one, either. He’d seen them when the death wave had hit, once Bellamy had closed that door. Murphy carefully keeping tabs on Bellamy all throughout their short journey to the Ark, slitted eyes narrowed and focused. Raven shooting him concerned glances, even as she’d furiously worked the controls. Even Emori, who’s arguably spent the least time with the group… she was about as close to tears as Monty’s ever seen her.
Ten minutes. That was all it had taken. Bellamy was gone for ten minutes. Raven had gone to find him, and when she’d returned without him, her face sombre but blank, Monty had prepared himself to assume the worst.
But then Bellamy strode back in the room, shoulders back and jaw set with determination, instantly firing off demands for systems reports and lists of things to be done. It had been all Monty could do just to keep up with him, as they set about making the Ark liveable again.
He hasn’t slowed down since, either. He’s on the move all the time, checking on progress updates, taking on menial labour tasks without hesitation, stopping to check on Monty’s hands, Raven’s leg, Emori, and even Echo. (They’re adjusting. Emori quicker than Echo — her eyes bright and an inquisitive question always on her lips — but it’s still a good sign.)
But sometimes, when things are quiet… he disappears.
i’ve had this “Strangers Like Me” parody from Tarzan written up about Galra Keith since last summer I just never got around to actually doing it lol. i wanted to give myself 3 hours to do this tonight, but it took me 4 in the end with mixing!
as usual, everything you hear is done by yours truly (including the backing track + arrangement). enjoy!
Does it matter where I am from? I’m a paladin just like them. Would things feel the way they feel right now or change?
Any conception of the world must include some acknowledgement of its own incompleteness: at a minimum it will admit the existence of things or events we don’t know about now. The issue is only how far beyond our actual conception of the world we should admit that the world may extend.
An illustration I made about ghosts, cemeteries, and passing down memories of people who came before. Also wanted ghosts interacting with things and people in the modern world, showing how people’s impact can last far beyond their lifespan as well.
Dulcenia, otherwise known as the Cooper kingdom is unstable — it has been for years. Since the death of King Harold Cooper, his wife Alice and her daughter have been struggling to make ends meet for the kingdom. The royal family is left weak, and vulnerable. When a wealthy, growing family, the Blossoms, begin their fight for the throne, Princess Elizabeth is faced with a series of impossible decisions, and some newfound feelings for her tutor and best friend, Forsythe.
Warnings: warning for angst in the future, I suppose? nothing in this chapter. keep reading cut, sorry mobile users! Pairings: Betty/Jughead (who goes by his birth name in this fic), some archieronnie in later chapters, although they aren’t the focus of the story in the slightest.
(A/N: I have big plans for this fic, so lemme know what you think? also, I suck at coming up with kingdom names. these two came out of a generator. also not historically accurate in the slightest.)
The view from the castle was remarkable. Not only could Elizabeth see beyond the castle walls, but also past the village, and off into the chain of mountains, hiding a long winding trail to a fellow Kingdom. The air had begun to take on a characteristic cold, typical of their land in the later months. She sighed, cold breath swirling around her until it dissipated into nothing. She longed to journey far beyond the castle grounds, to experience the world outside of gloves and gowns, formal dinners and polite smiles. She sat on the small bench that rested on her balcony, looking aimlessly into the distance.
A boy her age emerged from behind her. He had soft black hair and beautiful blue eyes. His pale skin was clear, save for a smattering of beauty marks on his cheek, and his hair was cut sloppily, a few strands obscuring his eyes from sight. He sat next to her, resting his arm on her shoulder. She relaxed at his touch, turning to face him.
“What is it, Elizabeth?” He asked. She sighed.
“I’m not sure, Forsythe, Mother’s always worried about the Blossoms, you know? And she’s still talking about marrying me off, for money to wage war,” Elizabeth sighed, and Forsythe gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Does she seem serious this time?”
She nodded, as he held her just a little tighter.
Forsythe was Elizabeth’s tutor. At least, that was his formal title. However, half the time he was unneeded as a tutor but very much appreciated as one of her only friends. The castle staff was often twice her age, and stern with what she was permitted to eat and what she could do, hardly allowing her to step out to the castle gardens without an attendant trailing behind. Once, her lady-in-waiting, Adela had lambasted her for eating two chocolate truffles at a dinner full of delegates, and that’s when Elizabeth decided she hated her.
Forsythe’s mother had left the kingdom ages ago, leaving him and his sister under the care of his father Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Second. They had a quiet life in the village, until FP, a knight, died in the line of work protecting Queen Alice herself. Indebted to his family, Forsythe had been living in of the royal palace with his younger sister Forsythia with Queen Alice’s blessing. They weren’t treated like royalty, but he was fed and permitted a place to sleep, and given access to the humongous library wasn’t bad either.
He made his money tutoring Elizabeth, although she didn’t need it. Elizabeth was a student of science and history and she often played the part of the tutor rather than the other way around. However, he so treasured their friendship, even if he was bitter at that being it.
He had been in love with Elizabeth for the longest of times, every one of her “friendly” touches setting his skin on fire with warmth and need. He wanted her, so so badly. She had even wormed her way into his dreams, conjuring up sinful images in his sleep that filled him with shame. The stationery that sat in his room was full of long writings with the princess as subject, perhaps his biggest source of guilt.
The strangest thing he noted, perhaps, was that he didn’t just want to be with her in a sexual sense. He wanted to take care of her. Wanted to see her wear a dress that didn’t have a corset laced into it, let her hair down when she so pleased, and eat as many chocolate truffles as she’d like. He didn’t want to make a beautiful poster-wife out of her as everyone around her expected. He wanted to run far far away from the kingdom, where no one knew their titles and they could be together with honesty, no pretenses.
But only a fool would fall in love with Elizabeth if they weren’t a king or, at the very least, a nobleman. Queen Alice was aggressive in her shooting down of countless potential suitors. It was an honor just to have their hearts broken by her.
And if only a fool could fall for the princess, Forsythe was the biggest fool of them all.
Her head rested on his shoulder as the sun began its descent. He noticed she began to shake gently, her breathing characteristic of a person crying.
“Hey, Elizabeth, look at me. I don’t give a damn if you get married. You’d still be my best friend in the whole world.”
“Thank you, I guess I just don’t want to get married. Mother says I should marry the king of Crealia, Archibald. Apparently, he is young and seeking a wife.”
Forsythe nodded sympathetically, trying to conceal his own bitterness. It made his blood boil just to imagine another person touching her, in any sense.
Elizabeth’s mother Alice had been viewed as an unfit queen since her husband died. The Blossoms, a wealthy family of aristocrats from a neighbouring kingdom were looking for a way to push Alice off her throne, or they’d start a war. News travelled fast, and their land simply couldn’t afford to go into a war, so Alice decided to have Elizabeth marry Archibald. He was a rich young king from a neighbouring land, who’s wealth could save their kingdom if they needed to fight.
“And besides, I already have someone I wish I could spend a happy forever with,” and that made him choke up. He knew it couldn’t be him, but he could dream, couldn’t he? Maybe, just maybe she felt the same way he did.
“I know it’s my duty to marry him, our people come first. But I really just want to make my mum happy.” She said, bottom lip wavering. “I think you should do what makes you happy. I know it’s hard, but you deserve to life your life as you please.”
“I suppose. I’m to meet the King soon. What do you think he’ll be like?” She inquired, trying to make conversation with the one thing she’d been dreading.
“I’m sure he’ll be suitable,” Forsythe said, gritting his teeth.
Adela appeared at the door, clearing her throat rather loudly. “Forsythe? Princess Elizabeth is to rest now. You may go,” she said, her voice laced with unkindness. While Forsythe had been living in the castle for years now, he was still a poor in their eyes.
“Actually, Adela, I’d rather he stayed with me tonight.”
“Your Highness, he can not-”
“No. He’s permitted to stay. You can leave now.” Elizabeth said, turning to face the older woman in the doorway. She sputtered some nonsense about him being unfit and uncouth, then stormed out.
“She’s such a piece of work.” He said, rolling his eyes as he opened the door back to her bedroom for her. She curtsied jokingly, her pink satin dress flaring a bit.
“Isn’t she?” she laughed.
Later that night, Forsythe found himself sat upright in Elizabeth’s plush bed, stroking and petting her hair absentmindedly. She’d long been asleep, head in his lap, taking comfort in his presence at a time of loneliness. The last thing she wanted was to spend the night alone, especially with words like marriage, war, bankruptcy, and suitable whirling through her mind.
He kissed her forehead softly before slipping out of her bed, and pulling the covers over her thin form, wincing as she stirred in her sleep. She hadn’t seemed to wake, so he closed the door behind him as softly as he could.
In the hallway, he found himself in tears, not even bothering to look at the maid, (Ethel, was it?) who came around to sweep ornate fixings and paintings every night giving him a look of pity. Forsythe could barely think, with whisperings of war with the Blossoms, and the thought of Elizabeth being married off to someone else. The maid passed, did her cleaning, and disappeared around a corner.
Eventually, he returned to his own room a few hallways away, noticing his sister fast asleep in her bed, he lit a candle and sat at his desk writing furiously until he fell asleep, dreaming of a certain princess who was not only two hallways but a whole world away from him.
SO, THERE’S THE FIRST CHAPTER! this is going to be a lot darker, and a lot more interesting soon. I swear. right now there’s your groundwork for this fic and the foundation for their relationship, the calm before the storm if you will.
please, please let me know your thoughts on this fic, I worked really hard on it. reblogs are always hella appreciated. thank you for reading! I’ll have this on ao3 once I get my email invite!
The 2017 show season has picked up a lot of steam over the last couple weekends. Last weekend, I went out to Detroit for a tour of the Lingenfelter Collection. While in town, I stopped at the Ford museum to check out what they had. If you’re ever in the area, I can’t recommend it highly enough. Here’s a few highlights from that trip. They have an incredibly diverse collection there, spanning far beyond just the world of cars.
When something hurts us or we lose that which we love,
our instinct is to contract internally. To allow less in.
But what if, instead of constricting our chest, we
expanded it? Expand it to take in, rather than repel.
Expand it to take in a larger glimpse of the vastness
of our situation, the vastness of the world, the vastness
of our existence far beyond this life, and so far beyond
this singular moment. What if instead, we expanded it
to embrace—rather than deny—our own vulnerability
I think if we did this, we could heal.
As the Inquisition settles into Skyhold, Solas continues to strive towards his ultimate goal - no matter who it will destroy in the long run.
But the more time he spends with these people, with her - the more uneasy his conscience grows.
Solas dipped his quill, trying to focus on his writing despite the noise above him. The rotunda was being repaired, the upper portion being converted into an improvised rookery.
He thought the choice of renovation was strange, but kept that opinion to himself.
The Inquisition was slowly making a home for themselves in Skyhold. No one had argued when he quietly laid claim to this room as his study and he was thankful for it. Despite the human hands behind its construction, the Ferelden architect responsible for building Skyhold had been true to his intentions to recreate as much of the original structure as he could. It was not the Tarasyl’an Te’las he’d once called his own - but even the faint familiarity offered some sense of comfort.
The note he was writing would appear inconsequential to any who happened upon it. It read as little more than private observances, most likely intended for a personal log.
Despite reaching our objectives in Redcliffe, those who live there still suffer in the aftermath of the rebel mages’s disruption. Many are displaced, lacking in food or shelter, unclear on where they should turn.
I hope for their sakes, someone might lend a hand to the elves of Redcliffe. Perhaps with some assistance, they may find a new sense of purpose in an otherwise chaotic landscape.
He knew his meaning would be more than clear to his intended audience, once he surreptitiously passed the message along. Go to Redcliffe. Bring supplies. There may be opportunities for recruitment.
Despite the obstacle Corypheus was proving to be, Solas’s objectives had not changed. Those who followed him still required instruction. Progress had to be made towards their goal, even though he could not oversee it directly.
The Veil would be removed and the world set right again. It was only a matter of when.
Solas continued writing. The losses suffered at Haven were not insignificant - yet I still have faith that the Inquisition is where I should remain for the time being. This organization is the best chance we currently have of parting Corypheus from the orb he carries. My confidence is only bolstered by their recently formalized choice of Inquisitor. We would not have made it this far without Isii.
Only when his fingers paused did he realize with some small surprise that he’d written her name. He’d referred to her before in his reports. The Herald. Lavellan. The Dalish elf, when he was feeling less favorable. But never as Isii.
He could not help but think of her then. The memory of Haven was still too fresh, too recent, too immediate. He could still remember the finer details of his panic, the sickly quality of his grief when it appeared she had sacrificed herself to save them. He remembered the feel of her fingers laced with his, so cold against his skin, gripping him tightly as he tried to warm her with his magic. She’d smiled at him through shivering breaths, rasping whispered phrases in Elvhen and he no longer cared whether or not she pronounced them correctly. She was alive, having twice cheated death in the short amount of time he’d known her. She was so much more than he could have ever predicted…
Solas pushed the thought aside, clearing his throat as he dipped into the inkwell once more.
They say God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers and what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. And as much as anyone can say how invincible I seem, or fearless I am, or how brave I must be… I’m still human. And I’ve seen things. And I’ve felt more pain than some will in their entire lives. All before the age of even being able to buy a fucking drink at a bar. But I have to be strong. Not for myself, but, for a greater purpose. Because I feel like my duty is far beyond me… You know? Beyond saving my family. It’s for the world. Because somebody out there really needs to hear this. So to anybody that isn’t here to see how far I’ve gone or how far I have yet to go, to family members that didn’t make it, or friends I lost along the way, or maybe someone I gave my heart to that didn’t know what to do with it. You should be here.
I always wondered how Aang would react if Aaron Ehasz did indeed get to make Zuko and Katara together, Aang would probably be all butt hurt and everything and probably explode at Katara and probably be pissed off at Zuko forever, I don't think he'll really accept the fact that Katara loves Zuko and not him, that'll make him even more unlikable, what do you think?
I think maturity would eventually settle in… a 12/13 yr old might be pretty jealous and upset, but Aaron had plans to keep Zuko and Katara at a ‘close friend’ level for years following the war (granted, in his world, there never would’ve been Mai.ko or Kat.aang). Plus, Aaron had plans to develop Aang, far beyond what Bryke pictured for the airbender.
In Aaron’s world, Aang may have been upset at first, may have been jealous at first, but he would’ve had the maturity and the growth to handle his childhood love and best friend coupling up— he probably would’ve learned to be happy for them, too.