so, when @dearestdo3 posted her lovely Pokémon drawing, it made me want to sketch my old team too! well, i should say teamS because i couldn’t choose in the end 😩
so here’s the roundup:
(it’s more of what team would represent him rather than who he’d pick of course 🤭)
(and it's my AU!Snape so no Lily or does involved)
Young angry Death Eater Sev.
Corvisquire — his patronus is a raven, and although at this age he wouldn’t be able to cast one, i still had to include one bc it represents him quite well. (not too fond of other raven Pokémon, i hesitated with Corviknight but find him too sturdy/metal-looking)
Seviper — he obviously needs a snake Pokémon. not my fave snake design but i usually pick this one for two reasons: can’t ignore that he’s called SEViper, and i like that he is canonically Zangoose’s rival who reminds me of McGonagall/Gryffindor :D
Alolan Marowak — this Sev has traumatic mommy issues so Cubone is a nice pick, and the sinister witchy Ghost evolution is 👌🏻
(tried to draw him in an agressive action pose and failed miserably alas, so he’s just waiting ominously)
Duskull — i had to pick at least one Death Eater Pokémon, so the death mark one it is.
Absol — he’s just there for the gloomy emo vibe 🤌🏻
Crobat — well. he’s a BAT. a COOL BAT.
thought about drawing a Voldie-Serperior in the background and then got lazy so please imagine he's there 😌
Chiller adult Sev. pissed off by his work and moldy voldy coming back, but overall has been working on his issues and is much more in control of himself. healthier habits and hobbies.
Seviper & Corvisquire are still there bc they’re very representative of him
Gloom — i wanted a poison Pokémon for potion reasons. Gloom and her oozing seemed an interesting pick — especially since i accidently gave his gf a Bellossom
Hatterene — she’s so witchy and so gender ✨i felt she was not unlike his adult self, solitary, a bit sinister, magical and graceful.
Umbreon — he’s here for the emo vibes but chiller than Absol
Sinistea — magical tea for the magic British school. again chill vibes but also a little bit dark — fits Sev.
Muireann. what can i say, she’s all fluff and love and music
Blissey — she’s nurturing, she’s caring, she’s wholesome.
Vulpix — she’s also young and fiery
Gourgeist — Gourgeist is a redhead jack-o-lantern, and in French she’s named after banshees, so she made sense in the team of an Irish witch.
Wooloo — a wee happy lamb! also they have the same hairdo.
Bellossom & Meloetta are both here for musical reasons: Muireann is a dancer and singer and music is one of the most important things in her life — she’d have musical Pokémon.
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thinking vv loudly about arlecchino as always—particularly her vision story entry
fire is still able to harm teyvat dwellers, even those with pyro visions. arlecchino's curse, among her two other sources of power, are no different.
perhaps arlecchino burned herself a few times, learning the ways of these strengths bestowed upon her for being of a lineage forgotten, eclipsed, the shade of a hollow, abyssal moon. and of the ink she bears, striking lines and markings along her arms, her hands, the charcoal hue at the tips of them; it's all a part of who she's come to be, making something of the ashes.
at times, in the grace of moonlight, you catch her by the windowsill. she does not take much to sunlight, preferring to stalk in the shadows, but the night was a different story; she allows the glow of it to illuminate her skin, the blackened arms. a reminder of what she has had to sacrifice to be here, to escape her fate, only to be thrust into another one.
her coat lays neatly folded over the back of a chair, and you brush your fingertips along the fabric—the feathered motifs, the sharp silver layers—as you pass. she knows you're here, of course; she senses you always when you've joined her in orbit, two inseparable celestials, sun and moon.
you embrace her from behind, and she does not protest, not so much as a breath of complaint. yours is the only touch she will allow, even when she would never even dream of allowing you an ounce of her burden.
(you hold her tighter, your cheek pressed to her bare shoulder. your lips paint 'ffections over a scar there, a line from a sword cut. her breath stutters. you take some of the weight with you when you withdraw.)
in the glimpse of the moonlight you catch the solemnity of her gaze, sharp, but never at you. in searching do your fingers thread between hers, clasping, thumb brushing the rings she has. her own, and those of the union that bound you together, in cursed sickness and in health, 'til death do you so part.
arlecchino's curse does not recede—it is far too late for that—but it has not grown in the length of time you have loved her, as she has loved you, and you are grateful for it. you bring her hand up to your lips, draping kisses along her knuckles.
she turns her head more, takes in the sight of you, and some of the edge falters from her gaze. arlecchino draws closer, her own lips pressing sweetly against your temple.
"you worry."
"it's my job, isn't it?" you whisper, as your kisses trace down the mark of her arm, to another healed sword cut, to a burn on her forearm. you inch down, almost kneeling, when she beckons you higher and embraces you tight.
"no," she breathes; a refusal, albeit a futile one. she knows you'll worry for her anyway.
it almost surprises you, the way she melts into your form—but you know it is a quiet moment for her, a silent request for your presence. for you to stay, for time to stop, to just give her this. to give her this.
she would never have you kneel for her. teyvat would sooner fall to barren ruins than ever see you on your knees for your husband.
arlecchino burrows into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. it tickles, some. your hands settle by her shoulderblades, by her spine. a warm pulse beats strong by her breast, and you know with due certainty it is the gemstone proof of her defiance against the heavens—her defiance for more days in the shade, more hours with you.
(once, she may have found the feeling of you creeping under her ribcage as intrusive, even abhorrent, but your place in the flesh of her heart sets her free, now.)
she keeps her vision close to her heart, but you will always nestle closer, and such is where you know you'll stay, once the skies begin to fall. cursed or not, she would face the dreadful dawn—to endure it all, the burning flame in her blood, the heavens shattering. to live, in spite of everything.
and you'll witness all of it, right there by her side.
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Sometimes I think about this fun little AU I have where Snape somehow ends up on the horcrux hunt with Harry, Hermione, and Ron for whatever bullshit plot reason. And the three of them are just like "Merlin he's an asshole, I can't believe we're gonna bully him into being our weird grumpy uncle figure" and then there's Snape being all disgruntled and trying to beat them off with a stick and the trio just doubling down harder out of spite.
Can you imagine Malfoy Manner with Snape being there, it would be a shitshow of epic proportions. Snape has really no idea that the three of them had grown on him like some kind of obnoxious fungus because he's absolutely terrible at handling his emotions right up until they're being threatened by torture to hand over the sword of Gryffindor and having that italicized "oh" moment right there. Which of course leads to him trying to goad Bellatrix and the rest of the Death Eaters into redirecting their attention on him because fuck those are kind of his kids now. And then the Golden Trio having their moment of realization with concrete proof that there's real emotions and feelings hiding underneath all that snark and snarling.
I just want them to get along.
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