0831: I Heart Hogwarts - Kristen Chael and Taylor
Tomorrow is the big day, folks!
TITLE: I Heart Hogwarts (and I Spork Mary-Sues)
PERPETRATOR: DruChael
SUE-O-METER:
(bad)
FULL NAME: Kristin Chael and Taylor
SPECIES: human/witches (probably witches)
HAIR: Taylor has red hair.
EYES: Taylor's are 'jolly blue eyes'.
MARKINGS: none mentioned
POSESSIONS: None mentioned.
ORIGIN: They are randomly attacked by Death Eaters in some woods and wake up at Hogwarts, where Kristin mistakes Snape for Alan Rickman.
CONNECTIONS TO CANON: They only just got there. Give them time.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: none mentioned, but one of them says 'It’s in the laws of fantasy novels-you don’t get transported into an adventure unless you have some kind of special powers', which I find rather forboding.
NOTES: A fair amount of effort went into this one... unfortunately, it's still terribly cliche and dull.
SAMPLE:
My eyes opened slowly. It was still dark. My room was warm for once, but out of habit, I pulled the blankets closer to me and snuggled deeper into the bed. I wondered what time it was, but was far too lazy to look for a clock. I resolved to just let the time slip by and go back to sleep. It had just been a nightmare after all.
“We found them lying out there in the rain. They was freezing and neither one of them were breathing.”
I frowned into my pillow. Was this CSI or something? My mother watched that show on occasion, and I knew it came on late at night.
“Are they going to be all right?”
Of course not, I thought. They always die. That’s the way the plot works.
“They’ll be just fine. You got them here just in time.”
I rolled over. This couldn’t be CSI. I peered out from my warm solitude and saw the same darkness. So was someone in my room?
Upon sitting up, I noticed that there were curtains around my bed. This in itself was peculiar. I bit my lip and went to reach for the curtains, resolved to find out what was going on.
But as I reached out, the curtains swung back and I was blinded by a sudden light.
Gasping, I fell back on the bed, curling into a ball out of habit.
“Child, calm down!” came a kind voice.
I opened my eyes and blinked wildly, trying to get my eyes adjusted to the light. My vision cleared a bit, and I saw a rather ancient looking man sitting on the bed, a gentle smile on his face. I bolted up and looked out of the curtains, seeing a man with black hair and a rather harassed look on his face.
“What the--?” I rubbed my eyes and looked at the dark haired man again. “Alan Rickman?” I murmured. “No, that can’t be right…”
“Obviously she has sustained a large amount of trauma,” the dark haired man suggested.
“Woah, wait a minute,” I said. “What is going on? Where the hell am I? The last thing I remember is running away from someone, and then I fell and smashed my head open against something, I-“ I had reached up to prove the point, but there was no wound there. I frowned. “What…I…”
“Madam Pomfrey healed that nasty wound,” the kindly man said.
My jaw dropped. “Woah, wait a moment-“
“Perhaps you should lie back down,” the lady said, moving towards me, but I jumped up and ran a few steps away from the three of them.
“No, I do not want to lie back down. I want to know what’s going on! Why am I here? Where is here? Why is Alan Rickman staring at me like I have two heads?” I looked around wildly. “And why the hell does this look like some Harry Potter rip-off?”
The room went tense. The dark haired man took a step forward, the older man’s eyes widened, and the lady threw a hand over her mouth.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, catching sight of myself in the mirror. “Oh, bloody hell,” I whispered. I took a shaky step towards the mirror and blinked. “Oh, please, no! This is some really weird dream, isn’t it? Or have I really gone mental?” I rubbed my eyes and opened them again, but to my horror, I was right. I was staring at an eleven year old image of myself. “Oh my god…what the hell is going on?”
“Quite a mouth on that one,” muttered the dark haired man.
I spun. “Shut up Alan Rickman!”
The man frowned. “My name is not Alan Rickman,” he snarled.
“Calm down, Severus,” the elderly man said, standing at last and placing a hand out to stop the man from trying to kill me. “She’s obviously very distressed.” He studied me intently. “What’s your name?” he asked.
I don’t know why I trusted those eyes so much, but before I could stop myself, I muttered out my nickname. “Kristin, Kristin Chael.”
“Well, Miss Chael,” the man said, taking a few more steps forward. “I don’t understand why you can’t remember anything, but we’d like to keep you here over night. We’ll contact your parents, and they can-“
“I don’t have any parents,” I muttered, looking down at the floor.
The room became silent. I swallowed and turned away, trying not to cry. I had been in the foster home for three days when those men came after me. I tried to rub the throbbing sensation out of my head.
“Bloody hell, what’s going on?” I whispered in desperation, clutching my head
TITLE: I Heart Hogwarts (and I Spork Mary-Sues)
PERPETRATOR: DruChael
SUE-O-METER:
(bad)
FULL NAME: Kristin Chael and Taylor
SPECIES: human/witches (probably witches)
HAIR: Taylor has red hair.
EYES: Taylor's are 'jolly blue eyes'.
MARKINGS: none mentioned
POSESSIONS: None mentioned.
ORIGIN: They are randomly attacked by Death Eaters in some woods and wake up at Hogwarts, where Kristin mistakes Snape for Alan Rickman.
CONNECTIONS TO CANON: They only just got there. Give them time.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: none mentioned, but one of them says 'It’s in the laws of fantasy novels-you don’t get transported into an adventure unless you have some kind of special powers', which I find rather forboding.
NOTES: A fair amount of effort went into this one... unfortunately, it's still terribly cliche and dull.
SAMPLE:
My eyes opened slowly. It was still dark. My room was warm for once, but out of habit, I pulled the blankets closer to me and snuggled deeper into the bed. I wondered what time it was, but was far too lazy to look for a clock. I resolved to just let the time slip by and go back to sleep. It had just been a nightmare after all.
“We found them lying out there in the rain. They was freezing and neither one of them were breathing.”
I frowned into my pillow. Was this CSI or something? My mother watched that show on occasion, and I knew it came on late at night.
“Are they going to be all right?”
Of course not, I thought. They always die. That’s the way the plot works.
“They’ll be just fine. You got them here just in time.”
I rolled over. This couldn’t be CSI. I peered out from my warm solitude and saw the same darkness. So was someone in my room?
Upon sitting up, I noticed that there were curtains around my bed. This in itself was peculiar. I bit my lip and went to reach for the curtains, resolved to find out what was going on.
But as I reached out, the curtains swung back and I was blinded by a sudden light.
Gasping, I fell back on the bed, curling into a ball out of habit.
“Child, calm down!” came a kind voice.
I opened my eyes and blinked wildly, trying to get my eyes adjusted to the light. My vision cleared a bit, and I saw a rather ancient looking man sitting on the bed, a gentle smile on his face. I bolted up and looked out of the curtains, seeing a man with black hair and a rather harassed look on his face.
“What the--?” I rubbed my eyes and looked at the dark haired man again. “Alan Rickman?” I murmured. “No, that can’t be right…”
“Obviously she has sustained a large amount of trauma,” the dark haired man suggested.
“Woah, wait a minute,” I said. “What is going on? Where the hell am I? The last thing I remember is running away from someone, and then I fell and smashed my head open against something, I-“ I had reached up to prove the point, but there was no wound there. I frowned. “What…I…”
“Madam Pomfrey healed that nasty wound,” the kindly man said.
My jaw dropped. “Woah, wait a moment-“
“Perhaps you should lie back down,” the lady said, moving towards me, but I jumped up and ran a few steps away from the three of them.
“No, I do not want to lie back down. I want to know what’s going on! Why am I here? Where is here? Why is Alan Rickman staring at me like I have two heads?” I looked around wildly. “And why the hell does this look like some Harry Potter rip-off?”
The room went tense. The dark haired man took a step forward, the older man’s eyes widened, and the lady threw a hand over her mouth.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, catching sight of myself in the mirror. “Oh, bloody hell,” I whispered. I took a shaky step towards the mirror and blinked. “Oh, please, no! This is some really weird dream, isn’t it? Or have I really gone mental?” I rubbed my eyes and opened them again, but to my horror, I was right. I was staring at an eleven year old image of myself. “Oh my god…what the hell is going on?”
“Quite a mouth on that one,” muttered the dark haired man.
I spun. “Shut up Alan Rickman!”
The man frowned. “My name is not Alan Rickman,” he snarled.
“Calm down, Severus,” the elderly man said, standing at last and placing a hand out to stop the man from trying to kill me. “She’s obviously very distressed.” He studied me intently. “What’s your name?” he asked.
I don’t know why I trusted those eyes so much, but before I could stop myself, I muttered out my nickname. “Kristin, Kristin Chael.”
“Well, Miss Chael,” the man said, taking a few more steps forward. “I don’t understand why you can’t remember anything, but we’d like to keep you here over night. We’ll contact your parents, and they can-“
“I don’t have any parents,” I muttered, looking down at the floor.
The room became silent. I swallowed and turned away, trying not to cry. I had been in the foster home for three days when those men came after me. I tried to rub the throbbing sensation out of my head.
“Bloody hell, what’s going on?” I whispered in desperation, clutching my head