I really don’t like Twilight…
But I like THIS! XD
//Hehehe…changing this to Uncle Grusom interaction because I can. Uncle interaction is kinda like older brother! 8)
In this AU, Fordervelse didn’t kill his siblings, but stole their inheritance from them. Upon first meeting Val, Grusom thought him one of his younger brother’s toys and made to rescue him. It was Mama’s interference that stopped the eldest Brother Death from spiriting Val away to safety. Now, Grusom visits the castle often to spend time with his nephew and gives him the attention his sire should have.
Valrún blinks as the thick leather glove is fitted over his small hand. The size is almost perfect, though there’s room to grow.
Grusom smiles, bent on one knee while the boy takes in the gift. “It’s for falconry. Any worthwhile falconer has a glove to protect their arm,” the massive immortal explains patiently.
The boy is already grinning from ear to ear. “It’s mine?” he asks, excitement shining through.
Valrún’s uncle raises his own hand in response. “It’s not going to fit my hand.” He stands, lifting a hand to point over towards where he spies Archie. The barn owl stomps his foot unhappily on the tree branch. He doesn’t like such a large stranger by the boy! “Call him over.” Grusom moves a few paces away to allow the pair room to work. “Tap on your glove when you call him. He needs to learn hand signals as well for times when you can’t communicate with your voice.”
The little hound grins. Little does his uncle know…Archie was already trained in hand signals. At least a few. Val raises his hand high so the barn owl can see before tapping two fingers against the gloved arm.
After a grouchy clacking of his beak, the bird glides silently over, landing nimbly on Valrún’s offered arm. Beaming, the boy turns back to his uncle. “It works great!” he marvels. “Thank you!”
Grusom smiles back and lifts a hand to ruffle the boy’s hair while Archie starts to give a shrill hiss. Without warning, the large man shoves his forearm into the barn owl’s chest, forcing the bird to step up onto his arm or risk falling from his perch. As Archie has never been a fan of being on the ground, he steps up and quiets down.
"Not so bad, am I?" he asks, his voice as gentle and calm as when he addresses his nephew. Fearlessly, the immortal lifts his free hand and strokes along the bird’s back. Lowering his arm, Grusom allows Archie to step back up onto Valrún’s glove. "Have you taught him how to retrieve things then?"
The boy shakes his head. He’s never thought of a trick like that!
"Then let’s get started."
|—||Pat Benatar, Hell is for Children (via of-death-and-fear)|
"Where has he gotten off to now?" Pitch mutters with a heavy sigh. He wishes he could go back to the days when Valrún was too tiny to move from the short boundaries made by heavy volumes of ancient text that held no interest to even the Nightmare King. Ever since the child’s learned to walk, Pitch finds he’s discovered more trouble than ever before.
"Valrún," he calls, figuring he can’t have gotten too far. "Take my eye off him for three seconds…"
The toddler has taken quite well to roaming around the castle, his giggles echoing down the hall while Pitch follows at a distance that seems well behind to one so young. “Val—" He stops, his spine stiffening.
He hears growls and recognizes them as those of the hellhounds. Fear doesn’t hold Pitch Black in place. Rather, it propels him forward to protect his child from blood-thirsty beasts.
Pitch sees the front doors opened and knows Fordervelse is involved. That bastard fed his son to his hounds for amusement! He’ll kill him! Without a doubt, he will—
Ford stands with an annoyed, lifted brow near the front door while on the lawn, the two youngest hounds rough house with each other and play with the toddler. Much to Pitch’s dismay, the boy’s fancy suit is covered in mud, as is every inch of his face.
The shadowmancer turns to Lord Death for an explanation, the venom clear in his gaze. Ford knows very well how he feels about the hounds around Valrún. He doesn’t trust them an inch. The crimson-haired immortal waves a beefy hand, displaying his own displeasure. “He’s fine,” Ford grumbles, as if it were a tragedy for the boy to be alive and well.
"He’s covered in mud and playing with horribly trained mutts," Pitch counters.
"That’s what baths are for."
A fire burns low in the nearby hearth, the scent of smoked wood permeating the room with familiar comfort. Snaps and cracks from the firewood provide musical accompaniment to the occasional turn of a page.
Sprawled in his usual place near the fireplace, Valrún pours over his rare find with odd excitement. While books have slowly become a pleasure of the boy’s they did not start out that way. It likely had to do with the difficulty level of the books available in Fordervelse’s library. There are more books with endless rows of hard to decipher text that a child has little interest in learning than ones with pretty pictures to help give some idea.
It is a treat he has before him today. Crammed between two rather hefty volumes, Valrún discovered a thin book that didn’t belong at all. Unlike the rest, the cover is bright with color with a cartoon-like style that reminds him very much of Trick. Each page is filled with more drawings depicting all manner of animals loading up the Dream Train.
Of course, the boy has heard of dreams before, though more often than not, he suffers from nightmares. Perhaps with the book tucked safely under his pillow, he’ll have sweet dreams tonight.
hello anon dear, its quite alright that you feel the way you do although i would have preferred you asked yourself so that i could answer privately since i don’t like making unnecessary things public, but, well, this was bound to make its way to me one way or another. i’m awfully glad that you respect me and my works bc that gives me hope that you will read my answer and respect it too.
so anon, let me tell you a story…
A feather dusting of snow had fallen in the hours before dusk. With the coming of night, the temperatures remained low enough for it to stick around at least until morning. Valrún lay on top of Syre outside the den, staring up at the pale moon. The hellhound’s breathing let him know she’d already…
//Holy crap, I had to trim it a lot to be under that 100MB limit. ;_; Oh, well. Here’s a snippet. 8)
|—||Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind (via ginkothewanderer)|
Happy Easter peeps
Character Pages: Gil Marverde
Meet me in the garden where the weeds grow tall
Down by the gate
I’ve got a secret that I might tell
It’ll give me away (x)
4 days until the return of Ava’s Demon!
I’ll post this here too yeahh
shamelessly using the whole countdown thing as an excuse to draw more ava’s demon girls in princess dresses
3 days until the return of Ava’s Demon!!