#in the shrieking shack where he had nearly died years before... it's like what a sad ending for him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jimlingss · 4 years

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Arcadia

➜ Words: 9.6k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Angst, Dystopia!AU, Utopia!AU

➜ Summary: In a new era, the human race has largely been eradicated through warfare and disease. You are one of the few left, living in the forest and making use of the wild. Or at least that's what you think until a man quite literally crashes into your home.

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It happened in the afternoon. A deafening noise from the sky. A thin whistle that crescendoed. Louder than what you’re used to hearing. Ringing in your eardrums. It shrieked horrifically — rumbling the ground — roaring through the silent forest. And you looked up to see a streak of white in the sky. Immediately, you dropped the animal in hand, abandoned the trap at your feet and ducked your head. But the explosions never came raining down on your skull. Instead, it happened in the distance. An explosion that made the evening sky spark bright white. It took a full minute for it to die down, for the smoke to fade into the horizon as if nothing occurred a moment ago. Yet, you stalked the fumes and commotion, crept in the shadows. You knew better than to approach foreign things, to approach clamor and potential danger. But the forest had been quiet for so long that it provoked your curiosity. What you found past the shrubbery and trunks of spruce is a giant white cylinder with rounded edges. A capsule. So white that it burnt to the back of your eyelids, in no way natural whatsoever. But the colour had been marred by dirt and foliage after it crash-landed. The mud and ground hugged it, molded against the shape after it quite literally smashed into the Earth. Before you could approach the thing and investigate, there was another noise. An unfamiliar whirring. It made you flinch and stumble back, taking refuge behind the trees. But as you peeked out, you saw something crawling out of the open compartment. A groan. Someone. You hadn’t seen another person in years. Immediately, you stepped forward and he saw you. Eyes darting to look into yours. He was in stark white clothing from top to bottom, pants that stopped too short at his ankles, a shirt that was cut awkwardly and too small for his broad shoulders. It was vivid against his dark hair and golden skin, almost made him look ridiculous. But you supposed at the time you didn’t look any better — ripped jeans, dirtied boots, a worn jacket taken years ago from some loot and your hair tucked into a baseball cap with a logo too faded away to discern. “I-I won’t hurt you,” he stutters out, putting up his hands. “I...I’m Seokjin. I’m part of the rescue fleet of Arcadia.” Arcadia? The man, Seokjin, sighs after your ongoing silence. “Sorry. Of course you wouldn’t understand me. I,” he enunciates slowly and points to himself. “Am. Friend.” His hands wildly form a heart for you to see and then he points at you with his left while still making wild gestures with his right. He tries to smile brightly. “I. Help. You—” “I understand you,” you deadpan with an impassive expression. The man is visibly taken aback, eyes rounded as his mouth opens and closes comically. “Y-You can speak?” Your arm lifts and your index finger points at his head. “You’re bleeding.” ... .. . He looks around the interior of the tree house like a lost child, seated on the floor and waiting for his parents to return. It’s a meager shack made of alder, large gaps for windows, tattered backpacks stained and collected in the corner by some pairs of shoes and an old radio. There’s a fishing line hung diagonally across the room and above his head, used to dry clothing. But he finds himself drawn to the radio and crawls over to try to switch it on, tugging on its antenna, turning the dials. Yet, all that answers is noisy static. “It’s been broken since a long time ago,” you pipe up, nearly startling him to death with your sudden presence. But you had simply climbed up the ladder quietly. “I’m still tinkering with it.” Seokjin sets the radio down. “I have a device similar to it. Thought this one would work.” He pulls out a black and thick rectangular piece of plastic from his back pocket and you scarcely recognize it. “A walkie-talkie?” “Kind of. It’s called an Erewhon device. State of the art technology, even if it looks chunky. It transmits radio waves without any limit of range and it syncs to one other device. No third can ever join or hack into it. I use this one to communicate with my base. Or at least I usually would, if the thing didn’t break in the crash.” You don’t understand anything he’s saying, so you chalk it up to gibberish. “It stings.” Seokjin sharply inhales as you apply pressure to his wound. But the ache soon alleviates when you wrap bandages around his head. “What’s your name?” It’s your last roll of bandages. “Y/N.” It’s not like you to be so generous or welcoming towards a stranger. The nature of your upbringing and life has ingrained an innate suspicion to anyone who isn’t yourself. But there’s a characteristic about the man in front of you that doesn’t make you doubt his intentions. It must also be partly because you’ve been on your own for so long and your inner subconscious is willing to dance with danger if it means having some kind of contact with another. But whatever the case may be, you don’t feel wary of Seokjin even if you should. “Are...there any others?” “Other humans? There hasn’t been any for years.” “There’s….just you?” “Just me.” Until now. “Where did you come from?” “I come from a place called Arcadia. It’s a utopian society just off the Zion mountain and Elysian Fields,” he says as if you know what those places are. “It has everything and it’s where the remaining people have gathered for years. I actually rescue people like you who are still alive and bring them back. How...how did you manage to survive on your own out here?” “I just do.” “How long have you been here?” “I don’t remember. The apocalypse happened when I was young.” Seokjin makes a noise of acknowledgment like he understands. “It happened when I was seven.” “I remember celebrating my fifth birthday in an underground bunker with my parents.” He doesn’t ask where they are. If they aren’t with you now, it’s safe to assume your parents are dead like his are. “I had a lot of people help me along the way, a lot of people who died,” you say, “I’ve been in sanctuaries and communities until they fell. Everything was only temporary. So, I’ve been on my own for a while.” “Arcadia is different,” he says with bright eyes, breathy voice full of wonder and hope. “It’s where the new world is beginning. I can take you there.” “Isn’t your flying machine broken?” “You mean my Xanadu Shuttle?” Seokjin scratches the back of his neck and chuckles. You notice how the tips of his ears turn scarlet. “Actually, it was my first time taking it out that far. I’m kind of new to all this. But don’t worry! When it crashed, it sent a notification to headquarters and gave coordinates, so they should find me soon. I’ll try to fix my Erewhon device too.” You don’t pretend like you know the things he’s referring to. “Are you hungry?” “I have dried pemmican!” He lights up as if remembering and pulls a transparent wrapped bar from his back pocket. You wonder what else is in those endless pockets of his. Seokjin must read the puzzled expression on his face since his smile widens. “Want to try it?” “Sure.” You rip open the wrapper and you’re met with a dark red and gray block, and a meaty scent that makes you slightly nauseous. But you’ve eaten worse before, so you take a bite. Seokjin instantly laughs when your expression wrinkles up. “It tastes better the more you eat it. Promise.” “It’s awful.” There’s a temptation to spit it out the window, but afraid that it might be considered rude, you swallow it down and quickly hand back the monstrosity to him. “Do you want rabbit?” “Sure.” … .. . It’s odd to eat a meal with someone — an experience that you’re unable to pinpoint your last memory of. It’s rather mundane, but mundanity has long been a privilege in this era. “You can sleep in the tree house if you want.” “Where will you be?” “I usually like to sleep on the forest floor anyway.” It isn’t a lie. One of the few things you love is drifting off while gazing at the stars, that the last thing you see is the sparkling horizon before it’s blue again when you awake. “How many people are there in Arcadia?” “About twenty five hundred people so far.” So far. But if what he tells you is true, then it’s a big settlement. As if able to see how he’s piqued your curiosity, Seokjin continues, “It’s an amazing place and we’re completely self-sufficient. There’s an agriculture industry that’s growing and greenhouses underground that gives us all the food we need. They developed a water filtration system as well and it’s connected to the mountain springs nearby. There are pods that people live in, schools that kids can go to, jobs, medicine— you’ll see when I take you back.” “I never said I was going with you.” “What? Why wouldn’t you?” You don’t answer. … .. . “Morning.” You watch as he climbs down the ladder and nearly slips off. It’s an amusing sight to see his hair in a disarray and his eyes swollen beyond recognition. “Glad to see you’re finally up.” Seokjin, on the other hand, is baffled at how you’re already moving so energetically. “When….did you get up?” “Since sunrise. Changed your bandages too, if you didn’t already notice. I’m getting breakfast prepared. There’s a stream down this path that you can wash your face in. Collect water for me while you’re at it.” You hand him a silver pail. Walking off, Seokjin finally gets a good look at the forest. It’s quiet, save for the chickadees he notices in the thin branches of the spruce, twiddling as he passes and the woodpeckers hammering against the alder. There was just enough rays of light bursting through to allow the saplings to flourish and shrubs to overgrow. And the verdant green almost blinds his vision with how vivid it is. He’s never been so surrounded in nature before — never has it encapsulated him completely. When Seokjin returns, he’s more alert than before. “Thought you got lost for a second. You can set the water over there. Do you want to help me look at my traps?” He follows you and nearly steps into a trap before you yell at him. But he’s amazed. You’ve designated a whole section full of traps made of loose string and branches, and when he asks, he learns they’re treadle snares to drowning snares. “They don’t yield a lot of food. It depends on the season, but it mainly depends on luck.” “What do you usually eat then?” “I have some canned stuff from the cities, but there’s a lot of berries and herbs around here that are edible. I’m in the process of growing some basil and tomatoes too, so I never really starve out here.” Seokjin is astounded. You can see it on his face, but you don’t know why that is. It’s not like any of these things are impressive. It’s just things you learn once you’ve lived out here long enough. “You’re making a fire now?” He watches as you take out a curved piece of wood with string attached and another piece that’s pointed at the end. You saw it back and forth on some more wood and Seokjin watches the smoke, how the friction creates the heat, how you transfer the embers to tinder. “Is this how you always make fire?” “Nowadays. At the beginning when I still had materials, I would use batteries and steel wool. Even flint and steel. But the bow drill method works fine. I save my matches for when I need them.” “That’s incredible. Is this what you do? I mean, collect food and make fires.” “I guess.” “Do you do anything else? Do you ever get bored?” It’s an interesting question — boredom. A privilege in itself to be bored rather than worried. Though you suppose that in this quiet forest with no one else, it’s a wonder how you never went insane. But while loneliness sporadically plagues you, you’ve never necessarily felt isolated or deprived. It’s always been this way. You’ve learnt to adapt to it. Humans can handle more than they think when push comes to shove. “There’s always something to do. Whether that’s upkeeping the tree house or making more traps or planting. But sometimes in the summer, I go exploring for a few days. Into the cities. There’re lots of places I haven’t been. It’s a good opportunity for me to get seeds, food, and clothes, so I’m never….bored.” “Wow, t-that’s...that’s impressive.” “There’s nothing impressive. It’s just the way things are.” “I...went to Arcadia in its early days,” Seokjin explains, “It was established twenty years ago, right after the apocalypse began, so I’ve never really got to see the outside world.” “They don’t let you leave?” “It’s not that. It just isn’t safe to. Actually, that’s why I wanted to join the rescue fleet. It gives me a chance to see the outside world.” “You haven’t even seen anything yet. If you want….I can take you somewhere. Better than this.” “Really?!” Seokjin’s eyes widen, irises practically glistening. Your lips tickle, threatening to upturn. “Sure.” … .. . Past the stream and thicket is a clearing. A meadow of daisies. It’s overgrown grass that reaches to your knees, white petals spilling over with yellow centers filled among them. The sound of insects buzzing and circling through the field is heard as the sun beats down. You found this place a good year ago and while it doesn’t serve much of a purpose, you left it undisturbed. The apocalypse was a catastrophe, but it did a lot for nature. “This….this….” Seokjin is breathless, unable to force a coherent word out. He looks over at the blue horizon that seems to steal the land as the abundance of flowers overwhelms his senses. “It’s beautiful, huh?” He stays silent, taking in the sight in front of him. He has seen a vase of flowers at best — most certainly not a boundless field of them. Not like this. Not in the entirety of his life so far. Not in a way where he could inhale the fresh air, count clouds, memorize the azure shade of the sky, and not where he is unable to see where the end or the start is. Seokjin is overwhelmed, and he realizes why the choice to stay remains. Why you would refuse his offer of coming back with him to Arcadia. A part of him also wants to stay here. Where freedom lies. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs while still taking in the sight. The colours are so rich that he feels regretful he couldn’t see it sooner. “I didn’t mean to push you to come with me.” “It’s okay. I’ll come with you.” Seokjin finally peels his eyes away from the scenery to gaze at you. Yet you continue to look forward. “You made me curious about this Arcadia.” And the corner of his mouth turns into a smile. … .. . The next few days are spent with Seokjin — noisy at your side, but it’s entirely invited. He goes back to his vehicle, his so-called fancy Xanadu Shuttle, and tries to contact his people. Much like your radio, there’s only static on the other end when he flips and fiddles with switches and the lights eventually die off. He messes with his Erewhon too, the little walkie-talkie device, though it’s to no avail. But Seokjin never becomes discouraged. He remains optimistic, a rarity in today’s climate. The man has no doubts they’ll come for him and even reassures you. In the meanwhile, you show him how to start a fire, how to collect berries and certain plants, and he helps you sharpen the knives you have. But the man looks away when you have to kill the animal you trapped and he makes you kill the bugs that land on him as well. It’s a bit ridiculous and outlandish, but frighteningly natural how quickly he falls into place and adapts. You forgot what it was like to have someone with you. To be able to talk to someone. … .. . “Are you ever lonely?” Seokjin asks one night when he’s laid on the grass, arms tucked underneath his head and staring up at the stars by your side. He copied you after several occasions where he found you like that. You immediately heard the gasp that left his mouth the first time he laid down. It’s beautiful enough that he’s unconcerned with insects and doesn’t get up until you chide him to. “Sometimes. Then I think about how people are more trouble than they’re worth.” He grins. “Why do you say that?” “People mess up things and always have their self-interest at heart. Learned it after I had a gun pointed on me by someone I thought was a friend.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s alright. Just the way things are. Anything to survive, right?” “Is that why you’re on your own?” “Partly. It’s hard when people die too. I’d rather not deal with that.” “Why’d you agree to help me then?” Seokjin asks after a moment. “If people always mess things up.” “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone. I thought talking to you would be worth the risk. And it’s not like you’re not messing things up. I’m leaving with you, right?” Seokjin grins, meeting your eyes. It goes quiet and then you pipe up again— “I do sing sometimes to myself. Helps keep me sane.” “Like what?” “I don’t know.” “Show me.” You outright scoff. “No.” “Please?” A sharp exhale later, you start mumbling, slurring words together in some obscure melody. Your voice is rigid and stiff, out of tune even to your own ears. But you’ve heard it from your parents before. It’s some jingle on television back when electricity still worked. Instantly, Seokjin starts laughing. “Hey, it’s not my fault I don’t know the lyrics!” “No, no, i-it’s amazing, please continue!” Seokjin squeaks out in the midst of a giggling fit and the corner of your own mouth twitches into a subtle smile. … .. . Unfortunately, these simple days don’t last long. Seokjin continues messing with his Erewhon device whenever he gets the chance — banging it on the tree house wall much to your dismay, curling up with it using a screwdriver kit he got from his capsule — and one evening, it suddenly comes alive. There’s the sound of static and someone’s muffled voice. “Hello?! Code White. R-six-four-three. This is Kim Seokjin from fleet seventy two.” “R-four-......three-nine.” It’s difficult to discern, but that’s all the other line says before the device goes silent again. You look to Seokjin, anticipating dejection and disappointment. But instead, a grin spreads into his cheeks and his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. “Y/N. They’re coming soon.” … .. . It’s a morning of checking for traps, of hearing the orchestral songs of nature, of holding your breath as the breeze whisks through the strands of your hair. You’re tip-toeing to the simple snare laid on the ground when the familiar, deafening noise returns to the sky. A thin whistle that crescendos. Louder than you’re used to hearing. Ringing in your eardrums. It rumbles the ground, roaring through the silent forest. And you look up to see a streak of white in the sky. It’s a larger white vessel with glass windows around. So white that it burns to the back of your eyelids, in no way natural whatsoever. And it descends to the same place Seokjin crash-landed. Seokjin finds you and the two of you venture through the forest and shrubby towards it. There’s a whirring and a compartment opens. Three different people step out, dressed in that unnatural white much like Seokjin is, pants and shirt cut off oddly. They look at Seokjin with smiles and incredulous expressions. “I can’t believe you actually crashed.” “It wasn’t my fault, JK!” Seokjin whines immediately and then quickly greets the other two females who he’s evidently less friendly with. “Amber. Lizzy. Good to see you too.” “This something I expected from Namjoon or even Jimin, not you,” the shorter-hair girl named Amber huffs out as she playfully shakes her head. “At least he’s safe,” Lizzy says with a smile. “Saves us from having to transport him back in a stretcher. But….who’s….that?” Her eyes dart over to you and the other two strangers follow her line of sigh, re-directing their attention. Then their mouths drop open, eyes widening in surprise, having not seen you there. Seokjin steps aside, allowing the light to shed on you. “She’s a lone one.” “A-A lone one…?” “Are you okay? Do you need help?” Amber whispers softly, lowering herself to meet your height and connect your eyes with hers as if you were a wounded animal. But then light flashes beneath her irises and her brows furrow. “Right. She might not know how to speak. Where’s my translation devi—” The corner of Seokjin’s mouth tilts. “She does.” You step forward, directly underneath the canopy spotlight coming through the spruce, walnut, and alder. “My name is Y/N.”

Arcadia. It’s protected by a dome-like structure reminiscent of glass, but as one of the strangers narrates, it’s supposedly a magnetic force field to protect against natural disasters. The place is ruled by tall buildings like the cities, but unlike it in the sense that they’re not decaying. They haven’t turned brown under wear and tear, don’t have moss growing on the sides of it. Rather, there are patches of green in between the paved pathways, flickering screens that are seemingly floating mid-air, masses of people walking past one another. It’s a utopian society, they tell you. But you’re not sure what that means. “Welcome to Arcadia,” the voice from above speaks rigidly. The door whirs as it opens. And white is all you see. White floors. White walls. People dressed in white. The white lights burn your vision as you stagger out, being aided by the strangers who were onboard with you. They welcome you. Tell you they hope this place could be your refuge and new home. And you’re taken immediately by strangers until you begin thrashing, calling out to Seokjin until he consoles you. He promises that they mean no harm, that he’ll see you soon, and it’s enough for you to be relieved. They lead you away, give you a new set of white clothing that are soft to the touch and a bin to place your old clothes in. You feel vulnerable as you strip from your grimy clothes and trade them in. You’ve never been able to afford to hold onto sentimentalities. But it’s hard to let them go. … .. . “Hello—” The doctor glances at his clipboard. “You must be the new refugee, Y/N! Oh right, they call it newcomer now, not refugee. Anyway, nice to meet you, I’m Jung Hoseok. I’ll be assessing you today and setting you up to live in Arcadia. You understand me, correct?” “Yes, I do.” “Excellent! Makes things easier for me if we can speak the same language. But feel free to tell me if you want me to slow down. We’ll take things one step at a time.” The man grins brightly and sits on his stool, spinning around to a thin screen on the desk. “We’re going to be doing some tests together today, so I can figure out what I’ll need to help you with and we can make sure your transition is as smooth as possible.” “Okay.” You knew a doctor once. She was similar to him, whimsical as he seemingly is, until she had to amputate her own arm and then bled to death. “Do you have any questions?” “Not really.” There’s an eye examination done until you tell him you don’t know all the letters of the alphabet. He switches to pictures afterwards and is enthused as he tells you that your eyes are apparently fine. He makes you lay down and open your mouth to examine your teeth. You spit into a vial, have your blood drawn. You step into a white capsule with black bars twirling around you. He shows you a picture of your bones and scanned brain with the excitement akin to a child’s afterwards. And he asks too many questions. “So you mainly ate rabbits, berries and other plants? Fascinating.” — “How often do you sleep?” — “So your bowel movements were pretty consistent?” You miss Seokjin. … .. . “Seokjin, can you please tell us what happened on the fifth?” The commander, chief, supervisor and several others are seated on the other side of the table. “Yes. I was dispatched to forty one degrees, twenty four point two eight minutes north. Halfway there, I….became distracted by the scenery, and went off course. I became alert again when the shuttle skimmed along treetops. The console received a malfunction notification and I subsequently crashed into a forest area.” “The maintenance record shows your Xanadu Shuttle was updated on the second of the previous month?” “Yes.” “Then do you accept responsibility for this incident?” “Yes, I do.” There’s no point in putting up a fight. All the evidence is all in the machinery and Seokjin had made no attempt to hide it. “I’m interested in the girl you rescued,” the Commander speaks up, tapping his pen on his clipboard. “When did you come into contact with her after you crashed?” “After I crashed, I exited my Xanadu Shuttle and caught sight of her standing amongst the trees. I think...the accident got her attention and she came to investigate what it was.” He nods and the people on the other side of the table look around at one another. There are soft murmurs and Seokjin stays quiet through their deliberation, keeping his eyes on his own report. After a minute, it simmers down. “The panel appreciates your honesty and integrity, Seokjin. In spite of your circumstances, you were able to rescue someone who will become a valuable member to our society and such a thing should not be overlooked. However, the crash was ultimately on your part and as such, you will have to be put on probation for a period of two months. The panel will also require that you retake your license class. Do you agree these actions are necessary?” Relief washes over him. Seokjin thought this was it. He was anticipating that he’d lose his job. “Y-Yes. Thank you.” “You will have to pass your license class.” “Yes, I will.” “There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you, Seokjin,” The Commander speaks up. “I spoke to our Premier and Minister prior to this meeting and we came to an agreement that it would be in the best interest of everyone involved if you could foster the newcomer you rescued. Typically, as you know, we house newcomers for a while and monitor them. But she...seems to be a special case.” The Chief furrows his brows. “Yes, she was isolated, wasn’t she?” It’s known to all that the lone ones are usually the people that are most unstable. The ones with animalistic behaviour as a result of living in the wild and being socially deprived. The problematic ones. But they’re wrong. Seokjin doesn’t outright refute his own superiors, yet he’s certain that you don’t have any of those issues. You’re not violent. Uncivilized. Barbaric. “Usually people are found in groups or clusters.” “Exactly that. But it seems like Seokjin has built a rapport with her. It might lead to a smoother transition if there’s immediate integration. Or at least, it’s an experiment we want to try. He has a calm temperament as well which makes him an ideal candidate to attempt this new method. Would you be willing to house this newcomer for a period of time, Seokjin?” He doesn’t need a second longer to think about it. “I wouldn’t mind whatsoever.” ... .. . Seokjin finds you and almost bursts out laughing with how relieved you look. “Jin!” He doesn’t mind the nickname either. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” Hoseok twirls around with a blazing smile, his white coat fluttering with him. “But I have a feeling you’re here to see my little guest and not me.” “You’re right.” He enters and stands by your side. “Has everything been alright?” “Of course!” Hoseok interjects before you can answer. “I’m one of the best doctors here, what do you take me for? We had a very fun time together, right, Y/N?” “Uh, sure.” “I’ll take it.” Seokjin smiles and looks at his old friend. “Is there anything…?” “She’s healthy. She’s been taking care of herself well. Nothing that’s too concerning.” Hoseok's eyes meet yours and he grins. “You’re approximately twenty to twenty five years old. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like you have any family here in Arcadia, but you don’t have any diseases, so that’s something to be happy about! Minimal dental work that needs to be done. Blood pressure is good. You have a slight magnesium and iodine deficiency, but nothing dark greens, whole grains, fish and eggs can’t fix. I’ll give you some vitamins to be safe and some medication to avoid illnesses you’re potentially susceptible to in Arcadia.” “That’s good news,” Jin exhales. “You’re also healthy enough to have children!” Hoseok announces and if possible his grin widens. You blink at him and he quickly reads your confused expression. “Right, you might not be aware but it’s one of the main ambitions of Arcadia to repopulate society. People with the most compatible genes get paired together into family units. Depending on how your integration goes, you might get paired up in a family unit by the end of the week.” “What?” You’re reeling. Starting a family and having children are things at the very back of your mind, not even in the realm of what your thoughts are, and you’re not sure what to think at this news. Jin sighs at his friend. “You’re freaking her out.” “Am I? Sorry,” the man laughs and looks at you. “Don’t worry. No one will force you. It’s just...highly suggested and recommended.” … .. . “That’s the dining hall.” “What do they serve?” “On Mondays, there’s quinoa. Tuesday is this dried beans dish. So on and so forth. Don’t worry, there’s poultry too, so there are eggs and chicken breast which you can order. There’s corn, milk, cheese and a selection of fruit too. They also serve protein powders you can mix with water that gives you the same nutrition value.” “It’s not like...that stuff you gave me, right?” “You mean pemmican? No, it’s better. Or at least I hope so.” He smiles. “Everyone has the same food. Sometimes during celebrations though, they serve different things.” “There’s not much privacy, is there?” Seokjin follows your line of sight to the glass buildings where you’re able to see the people working on each floor. “I guess not. I’ve never really thought about it.” You suppose it’s something to get used to. “Are...people staring at me, Jin?” “Don’t mind it. It’s not everyday we get a new face around here.” Right as he says that, you lift your head to discover your face plastered on one of the screens at the top of the building as if you were a wanted criminal. Seokjin laughs. “News spreads fast around here.” “I bet it does,” you mutter, a bit unnerved. “It’s a nice place if you follow the rules, trust me.” “What happens if someone breaks a rule?” “Well, there’s a focus on restorative justice for small crimes. So people often do community service or talk to victims or the people they affected and try their best to fix their mistakes.” “What about big crimes? Like if you killed someone.” Yet, Seokjin stays silent for a moment. “They disappear.” Your brows furrow, not sure what he means. But he doesn’t elaborate and you don’t push for an answer, uncertain that you want to know more. Arcadia isn’t as you expected it to be. When Seokjin told you stories, part of you anticipated it being lesser and merely blown up in proportion through his evident love of this place. You had predicted a community ridden with suspicion, like many of the sanctuaries you had been to before they inevitably collapsed. Leaders suppressing their people. Scarcity in resources. Another part of you expected an otherworldly universe, full of gibberish and things you didn’t understand. Much like the technology he carried with him or the shuttle that crashed in the forest. But what is presented in front of you is a sort of familiarity in a changed background. People like you know them, except courteous and independent. “This is my housing unit.” It’s a blinding white, two stories with the top floor off center and extended off the right side. It looks like two boxes haphazardly stacked on top of each other with giant pane glass windows at the front. “It’s not much but it’s my home.” You nod as your eyes drift to his lawn — a tiny patch of grass that surrounds the path leading up to the front door. As if entranced, you launch forward towards it. But it feels different underneath your feet, past the soles of your shoes. The soil isn’t soft. There aren’t any lumps, no grip when you try to root yourself into it. Seokjin notices your reaction. “It’s artificial grass.” “What does that mean?” “It’s fake.” “Fake? You can’t get real grass?” “Guess not.” The interior of his home is less white than all of Arcadia. There are mismatched cushions, wooden tables and bookshelves, fake yellow flowers on his marble kitchen counter, paintings of oceans and cities placed on the wall next to photographs of himself growing up. You glance over the knick-knacks lining the shelves, snow globes and postcards, tiny things you’ve always seen lying around shops in the decaying towns, but never paid much attention to. “Sorry. It’s a bit messy.” “No, I like it.” He shows you to your room, an empty one down the hall. It’s much less decorated than his living space and he quickly excuses himself to tumble back in with heavier blankets and proper pillows. “Had I known you were coming, I would’ve had everything already set up!” “I don’t think any of us knew I would be here.” He laughs. “That’s true.” You walk to the window, taking a peek outside to the white city that towers over and covers the blue sky, the tiny patches of grass that alleviates the brightness of Arcadia, the flying shuttles hovering past the paved paths. “You’re probably tired, right? Do you want to rest a bit? I have a few things to do, so…” “You don’t have to worry about me, Jin. I can take care of myself. Probably.” Seokjin ends up shutting the door after promising he won’t take long. But it’s the first time in hours that there’s finally silence. And you allow the quietness to simmer down on you as you take a seat on the edge of the soft bed that sinks underneath your weight. You stare at the sheets, the white walls and floor, the luminescent sunlight streaming through the windows. You’re not sure how you feel. … .. . You stare down at your slab of white meat, so white that you wonder if everything in Arcadia is dyed in this blinding shade. It’s something you might have to ask Jin, even if it’s a bit ridiculous. You’re just not used to having meat that isn’t charged by the flames of a bonfire. But still, you tear it with your fingers and when you bring it to your mouth, it tastes dry and heavy — like it’s fake. “This isn’t very good, is it?” “It isn’t?” Jin blinks and you lift your head. Immediately, your eyes connect to a stranger who instantly turns away and it occurs to you that people are watching. “Don’t worry. It’s because you’re not using utensils. Here.” He hands you a metal stick with three prongs at the end and another one that’s rounded. Understandably, it’s awkward in your hold, hurts in your grip. It goes silent as you fumble with it. The chicken breast almost flies off your metal tray. “It’s okay.” He smiles at your visible frustration and reaches over to slice it with a knife. Jin gently takes your hand holding the fork and pierces the piece. “Like this, see? Not too bad, right?” “It would be easier with my hands.” He agrees, “It would be.” “Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” A familiar red-head comes prancing up to the table and steals a seat next to you. “I’m Lizzy. We met on the Xanadu Shuttle, remember? I was the one telling you all about the history of Arcadia?” “Yes, I do.” “This is Namjoon. He’s one of our robotics engineers,” she introduces a gawky, strapping male with framed glasses. He takes a seat next to Seokjin. “A pleasure to be of your acquaintance. I’ve heard quite a lot about you in the past two hours or so. I am friends with Hoseok. He doesn’t indulge me in much information, he told me he received a great person of interest in his office. I believe that person may be you—” Seokjin interrupts his ramble, “Namjoon.” “Don’t mind him,” Lizzy laughs, ignoring the two men as she leans over the table to intrude into your personal space. “How are you getting settled in? Everything okay?” “Yeah. I’d say everything’s okay.” “I heard you were living with Jin now. Tell me, is he as messy at home as he is at work?” “I am not messy,” he protests. “Only a little,” you divulge her with a small smile. Namjoon smiles. “I heard you crashed. Glad to see you’re still alive and well.” “Thanks.” Seokjin’s eyes roll as his voice drips of sarcasm. “I’m sorry you couldn’t use my body for your next humanoid robotic experiment.” “Not now, but in due time,” the other man teases then turns to you. “It’s a shame you’re partnered with Seokjin. He can be quite clumsy and forgetful. You’ll end up becoming his handyman like I am.” “His first time he got into a Xanadu Craft, he broke the console,” Lizzy tells, making your mouth upturn. Namjoon swallows down his food before asking, “If I may be intrusive, Y/N, is it really true that you were alone? In the forest, I mean.” “I...was.” “How long were you alone for?” “I’m not sure. I think maybe two years.” “And before that?” “I...uh...traveled around and met different people.” He leans forward. “And what happened to those people?” “Well, some...passed away and others went somewhere else.” “What did they pass away from?” There’s a loud scraping of a chair against the tiled floor, grating to your ears. “I’m stuffed. Aren’t you, Y/N? I think we should head back now. Sorry, Joon, Lizzy. Might have to cut your questions short there. Maybe you can ask more next time.” “Oh, alright then.” They bid you farewell and Lizzy waves with a smile. As you exit, you look at Seokjin. “Thank you.” He saved you from answering, from bringing up memories you had no intentions of returning to. Yet he smiles and then looks away, feigning ignorance. “For what?” … .. . They’re wrong. It’s not a shame at all to be with Jin at all. If anything, you think you’re quite fortunate. Ever since you’ve met him, he’s proven himself time and time again to be thoughtful and considerate — traits that you thought were gone in this era. But it’s him who makes it easier to deal with these changes, to enter into this new world. … .. . “I thought you were gone,” he says, looking down at you with a smile. You’re laying on his lawn in the middle of the night in bare feet. “I knocked on your door and then searched my whole house.” “Where did you think I was?” “I don’t know.” Seokjin plops down on his artificial grass, stretching out his body and laying beside you like all those times before. “I was worried. I thought something happened to you.” “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” “I couldn’t sleep.” It’s quiet as the pair of you look to the sky with your hands folded on top of your stomachs. The lamp posts nearby casted warm glows on your visages. The warm breeze making his cheeks rosy. Yet, none of you can see the stars — not with the light pollution of Arcadia, not when all the buildings were towering so high and covering it, not like out there in the middle of the forest. “Remember when we were in the forest, Jin?” “I do. I remember that one time, you didn’t completely put out the fire and my pants almost set on fire.” You giggle and Jin relishes in the sound. “I apologized for that and who told you to sit so close to that spot?” “Hey, I just wanted to be next to you.” You remember the nights when you were able to drift off while staring at the horizon and how you were awoken by the first blush of dawn, sunlight coming through the trees. You have a feeling it’s going to be a long time before you have an experience like that again. It’s going to be a long, long time. If ever again. “I feel homesick,” you whisper, finally being able to pinpoint your emotions and it’s the most honest you’ve been since you arrived. “I don’t want to be paired up with anyone or have kids.” Jin reaches out and you feel his hand against the back of yours. He holds it, clasping it tight. You shift and your eyes meet. “Don’t worry. They can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.” You trust him. … .. . “If you want, we don’t have to eat in the dining center anymore. We can eat at home.” The corner of your mouth pulls. “Is that allowed?” “I’ll find a way around it,” Jin promises. … .. . “Please, Hoseok.” “You know that’s not how the system works. There’s not much I can do anyway.” “But you can put in your recommendation.” He’s silent in contemplation. “She’s compatible with you, but more so compatible with others. Plus, she’d assimilate better with someone stricter.” “I want to protect her. She’s my responsibility. Pair her with me.” Seokjin won’t let you be paired up with someone else in a family unit, expected to stay together and have children. He’ll keep his promise to you and be with you until the end — it’s also his selfish wish to be with you. The other man sighs. “I’ll make a note of it, but I can’t promise anything.” … .. . You’re unfamiliar with the devices at hand — the kitchen appliances with automated voices that speak when you come close, the machines with tens of buttons you can’t read. They’re all things you once overlooked when you scrambled for remaining supplies. “Is everything okay?” “I’m trying to heat this up. You said I could use it, right?” “Yeah. Here.” Seokjin comes behind you and takes your hand, guiding you where to press. “Click this button and then this one.” You don’t understand technology at all. Even the television is odd, an overload on your senses. “What do you think?” he asks, watching your reaction in amusement and how your eyes are as wide as the screen flashing against your face. “It’s...a lot to take in.” “That’s okay. Do you want to go outside instead? We can, if you want to.” You glance out the window. “I’m fine here. I’m not used to there being so many people.” “How about we work on some more worksheets?” “Again?” Jin laughs and the sound is tinkling. “You have to learn eventually. Come on.” He pulls you up and is happy to sit next to you at his kitchen table to teach you how to hold a pencil, how to write each letter and answer your questions. You’re a fast learner. Today your strokes are smoother and you learn how to spell his name. … .. . Seokjin often knocks on your door before going to bed to bid you goodnight. Yet he seldomly finds you there, where you’re supposed to be. He wonders if you’re outside on his lawn again, but instead, he discovers you standing in his living room. You’re gazing out the window quietly with an unreadable expression. “Is there something wrong?” You turn around with a small smile. “I’m just a little homesick.” He joins you, staring out at the city and the lampposts lined on the paved paths. “How do we go outside, Jin? Not just outside, but beyond the dome.” To the forest again. “Most people aren’t allowed outside because it’s dangerous. You would need to have my job or something similar, and that’s after you graduate from a three year program and pass several exams.” It’s quiet and neither of you look at one another or speak when you reach over, discreetly taking his hand into yours. Seokjin laces his fingers through yours and squeezes. He’s the only reason you can starve off the longing sewed uncomfortably in your chest. ... .. . In the following days, he receives a notification. The leaders are interested in you as a newcomer and extended an invitation to the party. So he helps you pick an appropriate outfit and the two of you enter with your hand looped around his arm as he reassures you. “You must be Y/N!” The strangers, leaders of Arcadia, welcome you with tall bubbling glasses, one of which that you receive from a waiter. It tastes disgusting, but you try to not let it show on your face. “It’s good to see that you’re getting yourself accustomed to Arcadia. I see you’re with your future partner this evening.” The man laughs boisterously while you exchange expressions with Seokjin. “That’s supposed to be a secret,” the woman beside him chides. “Right, right. The postings of the new family units go up on Friday. My apologies for ruining the surprise, but I assume it is a happy one.” You look up at him, gazing meeting Seokjin’s at once. The relief is overwhelming and what follows is a kind of excitement. Part of the weight lifted off your shoulders and Jin smiles tenderly. He leans in close, whispering in your ear so you’re the only one who hears— “You shouldn’t look at me like that in a place like this or I might just do something about it in front of all these people.” It’s bold. Unexpected but you know with the heat that rises into your face, it isn’t unwelcome. “Y/N, is it?” The intimate moment is intercepted by other individuals approaching in blue attire, form fitting dress simple and modest. “You must be the newcomer! I’ve heard so much about you.” “Yes, how has your transition been? Are you finding everything accommodating?” You hope they don’t come close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks. “Yes. Arcadia has been very welcoming to me.” They smile. “It’s so fortunate you can understand us and we don’t have to use those translating devices.” “You were alone, correct?” another asks. “How did you fare in the wild like that? How did you manage to even eat?” “I trapped animals like rabbits and squirrels and roasted them over fires.” Laughter is suddenly roused all around you. “Aren’t you glad you don’t have to do such a primitive thing anymore?” “What I’m curious about is how you’re still alive without any radiation poisoning.” “I used a radon detector. It was given to me a long time ago by an older woman who was with me. She died.” Automatic silence sweeps through the crowd. You clear your throat. “But I used it when I traveled through the cities.” “I see.” Some are fascinated while others aren’t. “How preserved are these old cities?” “Most buildings are still relatively in-tact. There are abandoned cars and buses too, but they’re useless without fuel and everything’s been raided, so there’s not much left. It’s one of the reasons I started to live in the forest.” “Poor thing,” someone sympathizes, “Someone should’ve rescued you sooner. You wouldn’t have to suffer so much.” “I didn’t suffer.” They’re taken aback, clearing their throats and moving on from the subject. A man directs to the refreshment table — all the while Jin pulls you closer to him and away from the prying eyes of Arcadia. … .. . Later on in the evening when Seokjin’s gone to relieve himself, you meet an old man seated alone at the table. “I was outside too,” he croaks. “Until two years ago.” Your eyes find his — past the wrinkles are bright irises — and you remain silent. “Many things happened that the people here would never understand. But my biggest regret is coming here willingly. Arcadia offers many things,” he says, “it has everything but one.” “Freedom.” … .. . The words stick to you. Like flies to honey. Or the magnets on Jin’s fridge. They don’t cease from your mind — a plague that spreads, a pollutant that you can’t shake off no matter how hard you try. Jin worries about you, but he doesn’t ask. He knows every time he does, you’ll reassure him that you’re fine. So one night, he takes your hand and shows you to his television. “Put this on.” He hands you a black, heavy device and smiles at your visible reluctance. “Trust me.” You slip it on top of your head and it sits comfortably over your eyes, obstructing your vision in complete darkness. Headphones are put over your ears and you discover both of your senses of sight and sound are completely disabled. “What are you doin—” The words die upon your tongue the moment the machine flickers on. There are chickadees chirping and woodpeckers digging against the bark. The sound of insects flapping their wings in the beating sun and the whistling wind intensifies. You see the forest, a forest. Canopies of spruce, walnut, and alder cascading light to the verdant floor overgrown in shrubbery. A cry chokes in your throat, but then it bubbles into laughter instead. You jump up and down. “I see it. I see it!” You whirl around, looking in each direction. To the blue horizon and the sound of the rustling leaves. Your home. But when you take it off, it’s all gone. You’re shrouded in darkness with Seokjin’s features barely discernible. You’re trapped in the very utopia you had followed him to. And you cry. For the first time in his presence, for the first time in a long while, sobs break through your frame at what you’ve lost — what you’ve traded in, what you’ve given up. Jin embraces you, arms wrapped around your frame, trying his best to keep you whole. “I want to go back.” … .. . Jin makes it easier to be in Arcadia. He gives you reason to become accustomed to it. He makes you wish you wanted to stay. But he’s not enough to dissipate your constant wistfulness. He isn’t the solution to your plaguing dilemmas, but you’re glad he doesn’t have to bear that burden. You wouldn’t want Jin to harbour the hardship of being your fix. … .. . It’s in the dead of the night that Seokjin comes out of his room and finds you. In the dark, you’re seated on the floor with your knees folded to your chest and the virtual reality headset slipped on top of your head, over your eyes and ears. You’re taking it all in. The orchestral songs of nature, the birds and leaves, the swaying of the grass and flourishing shrubs, bathing in the warm sunlight you cannot feel. He sees you, but doesn’t say anything, merely turning away. At same time, you feel the presence of another and slip the device in time to catch his retreating backside. “Jin,” you call out for him, knowing you’ve been caught. He hums, turning around and the two of you look at one another. “I’m sorry.” The dark-haired man smiles tenderly. “It’s me who should apologize. I’m the one who brought you here selfishly.” “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who agreed to some and I’m...the one having trouble adjusting.” “That’s not it. The problem is you’re not where you should be. Home. Not my home. Not Arcadia. But your home. “ You stand and he meets you halfway. You press your face to his shoulder and he embraces you. “I’ll help you go back,” Seokjin murmurs against your hair. “I thought you would be happy here, but I don’t want to keep you against your will.” “Come with me.” “You know I can’t,” he whispers in spite of your soft-spoken plea. “I have a life here. Like how you can’t leave yours. Arcadia is my home. It always will be.” You hold him closer, shutting your eyes to savour the moment. “Won’t you get into trouble?” “I’ll find some way.” The corner of his mouth turns. “I always end up fine. You will too.” … .. . The year’s posting goes up and just as the man had said, you and Seokjin are paired together. The two of you hold hands as you look at it, taking your time to read it over. It’s slow, but you understand nonetheless. You’re congratulated by those around him, people you recognize and friends you have yet to know. It’s fortunate it worked out that way, but it’s still bittersweet, knowing of your upcoming departure. And that same night, five hours past twelve, Jin takes you across Arcadia. The white shuttle is ready when you arrive in the dark and you scarcely recognize its scratched paint and dented surface. It’s the same one that he crashed in, the one that took him to you. “I programmed the path back. It’ll go automatically without you needing to drive it. And once you close the door, it’ll come back on its own. I’ll erase the data’s history. Take this.” Seokjin gently places the sling of a heavy bag on your shoulder. “There are clothes in here, blankets, medicine, a first aid kit, some canned food and seeds of new plants you don’t have. It should help you out.” Tears threaten to spill from your lash line. “Jin. Wait.” Hope blooms within him, wondering if you’ve changed your mind, that you want to stay. But he knows having such selfish desires won’t help him, so he puts them away. Just for a moment. He tries his best not to hang onto you, to hold you down. “It was because of you that I could even cope so well. You made it so much easier for me. I...I…” But Jin lets his greed slip. He closes the distance and kisses you senseless. The man swallows your soft gasp and comes to cradle the back of your neck as you ease into him. You relish in the gentle touch, his tender affections and taste one another’s lips. It’s bittersweet, yet he pulls away with a faint smile. “You should get in.” You nod, pulling away from him. Everything the two of you wanted to say has already translated through the kiss. Still, you take every moment you can and look to him. “Thank you, Jin.” The doors whir as it closes. He gazes at you till the very last second, till it shuts. The thin whistle diminuendos as it lifts into the air. He watches the shuttle fade from sight and when the sun lifts at the first blush of dawn, what’s left is a streak of white in the sky.

The world is limitless. You have learned of such a fact at a young age, traveling from desserts to mountains, finding all the hiding places and safe spots that others had claimed no longer existed. But they did and you’ve sought refuge in this forest, found a home amongst the rustling foliage and canopies ruled by spruce, walnut, and alder. There was just enough rays of light bursting through to allow the saplings to flourish and shrubs to overgrow. And without the presence of others, you could listen to the woodpeckers hammering against the wood, the wings of insects fluttering about. Everything was the way you left it. Unchanged from the time you left like it was waiting for you. It’s as if Arcadia and Seokjin was a fever dream. Except the mementos brought back with you reminds you otherwise. You dig into your bag, looking through what he’s given you, everything he picked out that he knew would help. But you discover something special at the very bottom. It’s a black, thick rectangular piece of plastic reminiscent of a walkie-talkie, synced up to only one other without a third in between. You hold the Erewhon device to your lips and press the side of the button. “Hello.” There’s a pause. “My name is Y/N.” Silence follows. But then there’s the sound of static and someone’s crystal clear voice. “Nice to meet you. I’m Seokjin.” A wide smile spreads into your cheeks.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #jin scenario #seokjin scenario #seokjin reader insert #seokjin x reader #jin reader insert #jin x reader #btsboulangerie #I don't really know if there's 50/50 fluff and angst #there's not really that much fluff and not that much angst in general #but I don't really know how to describe this fic any other way lol #so I went with 50 50 cause it is truly neutral #hope you enjoyed this piece!!

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adenei · 4 years

Note

Hi, I love your writing !!! I get emotional in all the stories.I would like to ask for a fic about the Ron Weasley brothers. I mean he has passed close to death so many times someone has to freak out with that one hour !!!

Hi there! Thank you! I did a continuation of Too Many Close Calls, where Fred and George go back to Hogwarts and they do freak out a bit on Ron.

Thanks for the ask!

*********************

Fred and George made their way back up to the castle, where Professor McGonagall vouched for them and led them back to the hospital wing.

“Your brother was awake the last time I checked. Your parents were able to speak to him and left a short while ago. You will not be able to stay for very long,” Minerva warned.

“Duly noted. Thank you, Professor,” Fred said.

Professor McGonagall led them silently into the hospital wing, where they found Ron sitting up in bed, and Hermione at his side.

Ron noticed the twins. “Fred? George? What are you doing here?”

“Well, we were waiting for you down in Hogsmeade, only to find out you’d nearly gotten yourself offed,” George said.

“That’s not funny, George,” Hermione sniffed.

Neither of the twins responded with a sarcastic comment, but Fred gave Ron a questioning look over Hermione’s head. He wasn’t aware they were speaking again.

“Hey, uh, Hermione,” Ron said to her, “I know you were going to wait for Harry and Ginny to come back from dinner, but why don’t you go get something to eat while the twins are here?”

“I don’t know..”

“I’ll be fine, I promise. You need to eat,” Ron insisted.

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but finally caved and said, “Alright. I’ll be back soon. Do you want anything?”

“Anything chocolate for pudding if it’s out,” Ron said gratefully.

Hermione got up and nodded in acknowledgement as she made her way to the door. She looked back hesitantly, as Ron reassured her again. “I’ll be fine,” he said as she turned and left.

“You’re talking again?” Fred asked.

“Yeah,” Ron said, not offering any other words.

“So you’re shot of Lavender? George prodded.

“Er, no…” Ron said.

The twins both shook their heads. “Harry gave you our gift then?” Fred changed the conversation slightly.

“Er, yeah, but I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Better do it now before Hermione comes back,” George said. So Ron took his gift out and unwrapped it.

“Twelve Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches?” he looked at them.

“We figured you could use a little help,” Fred said with a grin.

“Yeah, we can’t bear to watch you flounder your way around Hermione anymore,” George added.

“All kidding aside, it really is a brilliant book,” Fred continued.

“Yeah, loads of helpful information,” George finished.

“Thanks,” Ron said as he shoved it back under his pillow so Hermione wouldn’t see.

“Harry said you two had gone back home,” Ron said. “What’re you doing back?”

“Well, we did go home-” Fred started.

“And we saw Bill, and explained what happened-” George interjected.

“He was freaking out by the way-”

“So we figured we should come back and actually check up on you.”

“M fine,” Ron waved them off.

“No, Ron, you’re not.” Fred rarely ever called him by his name, so Ron knew he was serious.

“I’m awake. I’m alive. Harry saved me!” Ron defended.

“Yeah, but this isn’t the first time you’ve almost died!” George said angrily. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s not normal to come to Hogwarts and have near death experiences every year.”

“But you two’ve-”

“Yeah, but we brought that upon ourselves when we’d test out different products, little brother!” Fred cut him off. “We’re not saying you shouldn’t be friends with Harry-”

“-We love Harry, and we want You-Know-Who defeated as much as anybody-” George continued.

“-But Bill made us see how mental this all is. This is the-” Fred counted the incidents, “Seventh?” he looked at George, who nodded. “Seventh time you could have died.”

“I thought we were going to drive Mum and Dad to an early death, but you may achieve that honor in the end, Ronniekins,” George said.

“I have not almost died seven times!” Ron argued.

“The chess match your first year-” Fred said.

“Only knocked me out! I knew what I was doing.” Ron dismissed.

“The flying car?” George asked.

“As Snape says, the tree was more damaged than the car,” Ron waved him off again.

“The chamber of secrets?” Fred continued.

“Harry was in more danger than I was. Lockhart was stupid enough to use my broken wand. I had to babysit him because the rubble separated us. It was the spiders that almost did us in if you’re looking for a near death count.” Ron looked at the two of them and realized they didn’t know about that. “Er, nevermind…”

“Nope, now you need to tell us.” Fred looked at him sternly.

“Well, Hagrid told us to follow the spiders. Hermione was Petrified! We had to do something! So we followed them into the forest and walked right into the Acromantula lair. We were about to be spider food but the Anglia saved us. I don’t remember much else...I was too terrified to really comprehend what was going on.” Ron said sheepishly.

“Okay, so there’s one. Don’t think we’re not coming back to that by the way. How about when Sirius dragged you into the shrieking shack?” George moved forward.

“He was after Pettigrew..Scabbers..he apologized for breaking my leg. He didn’t mean it.”

“The second task of the Tri-” Fred was cut off.

“That was completely safe. Hermione and I were placed under a spell. Nothing was actually going to happen to us. And before you say the Department of Mysteries, I’ll give you that one. Still not sure how all six of us got out alive,” Ron shook his head shamefully.

“Do you understand how mental this all sounds?” George asked him.

“Course I do! But if Harry’s gonna run into danger, I’m never going to let him go alone! I made that decision after we went after the troll first year. It’s not just his war to fight!” Ron defended.

Fred and George stared at him, both unsure of what to say. “The troll! How could we forget the troll!” George smacked his forehead.

“Could you just, I don’t know, try to be more careful?” Fred asked him. Ron nodded, noticing that Hermione had re-entered the Hospital Wing.

“Good, and if you need a crash course in knowing how to tell if a product is laced with our love potion, please do let us know. It’s the least we could do for you,” George said, rolling his eyes and attempting to lighten the mood.

Hermione came back over and reclaimed the chair she’d left vacant before. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she asked, looking between the three of them.

“Not at all, we were just getting ready to leave,” Fred said.

“Yeah, not that we’ve seen with our own eyes that Ronnie’s still alive we’ll be able to sleep better tonight,” George added. Ron rolled his eyes and gave him a rude gesture.

“Happy birthday, Ron. We leave you in good hands,” Fred said as he and George waggled their eyebrows behind Hermione’s back.

“Thanks. See you at Easter,” Ron said as they walked away.

When they exited the Hospital Wing, they looked at each other. “This isn’t going to be over anytime soon, is it?” Fred asked George.

“No, I don’t reckon so. We’ve got to figure out a way to help them. Maybe we should send them some products they could use for defense?” George suggested.

Fred nodded. “It’s a start.”

#ron weasley #fred & george weasley #weasley siblings #hp hbp

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 5: Keeper of the Keys

Not having been remotely prepared for it this time any more than the first, the eight of them collapsed to the ground in such a miserable place, for a moment the Marauders were convinced they'd been put inside the Shrieking Shack.

This place was somehow even more inhospitable. There was a storm outside, raging nearly right through the thin walls, and all of them collectively shivered and took a step closer to the center of the room. Lily took her wits about her first and jabbed her wand to the fireplace, the warmth spreading around giving them the ability to detail the rest of the area, though none of them enjoyed the view.

There was only one bedroom off to the side, a lumpy looking mattress and bedding that rather should have been burned from all the stains they could see on it. Truly those Dursleys must have been desperate to sleep on such a thing instead of their normal king sized bed with silk sheets and all their other extravagances.

The flooring had so many catches on it, uneven extremely from so many years of bad weather and ill care, it would be a miracle not to break your neck merely walking across the room, and a couch that was sagging to the ground so much they were sure Dudley had just placed his immense weight on it and cracked it in half.

"I had absolutely no desire to see the actual spot Harry laid himself on," James said in disgust, his eyes on one particular bit of corner not far from the fireplace, as if the boys instincts had still been trying to seek out warmth where none was. The thin bit of material fluttering in the breeze in the spot couldn't even be called a blanket, the patch of floor only softer than the rest because it was slightly damp from a leaky roof. It wasn't a fit place for an animal, let alone a scared little boy.

"I-" Sirius tried to say to him, going to him and wanting to put his arm around his best friend in some kind of solidarity, but James shrugged him off and stormed over to sit on the same spot, glaring around at nothing as if daring someone to stop him. He couldn't explain it to anyone, it felt stupid to even realize why he wanted this, but he wanted just some small part of himself to know what his son went through, even sitting in the same spot as he once had...or would. Whichever. The cupboard had been a punishment, this was an actual place he'd tried seeking out, and James was determined to understand why.

Sirius just watched him for a moment before reaching out and snatching the book away before Remus could protest. He wanted out of this miserable place as soon as possible, and if he was understanding this right, the pattern would continue they'd leave here as soon as the next part was over.

"Does anyone ever actually call Hagrid by his job title?" Frank asked without much interest when the chapter title was told.

"Not that I've heard," Alice agreed, keeping closer to her boyfriend than the fire for warmth in this place. "I'm just glad it was him, poor kid's had enough trouble in his life, at least Hagrid will finally help Harry to understand all this."

"I wonder why him though?" Lily said with high curiosity. "A ministry representative came and explained to my parents when I first got my letter, and after all these years, the blokes hardly memorable. He even managed to dress normally, an honest accomplishment," she finished with a small snort, remembering the few times she'd seen others try. "Hagrid on the other hand will likely leave an impression, probably not one most Muggles would forget. I imagine anyone as well as these Dursley's would be frightened by him."

"It was likely Dumbledore's decision, and he couldn't have picked anyone better," Remus said with a faint smile, looking forward to Hagrid doing more to scare the piss out of these people.

They all rather enjoyed the back and forth favoring Hagrid as he got through the Dursleys to explain to Harry what was going on, and everyone but Lily and Peter listened with interest to hear what it must be like for someone to hear for the first time something they'd known all their life.

"What does it mean by owl?" James burst out laughing. "What other way is there?"

"Never mind Prongs, I'll explain later," Peter promised, knowing there were likely a ton of things by now building up in his mind to ask about, and the only reason he wasn't interrupting every five seconds to ask was because he kept throwing sideways glances at Evans, clearly not wanting to look as imbecilic around her as he usually was. Those Muggle Studies classes he'd been taking must not have been doing him much good.

"I'm really warming up to Hagrid," Remus said conversationally to Peter, hovering with him near the fireplace and wishing Sirius hadn't followed them over while continuing. Still trying to avoid looking at him in general, he was trying to keep up some commentary with his actual friends. "Why haven't we ever gone to his place and hung around?"

"Did you honestly just suggest we hang around an authority figure at school?" James demanded while looking faint. "Merlin Moony, I know we've been laying low at school, but this is ridiculous."

Remus made a face at him and Peter nodding along, but still refused to give the sideways look at Sirius he so wanted to for someone to play along.

Alice frowned reproachfully as the four tried to act like no one else was here while Black kept going, and the feeling only grew when Hagrid brought up Harry's past. She supposed she couldn't blame the friends for banning around their mate as his death was brought up again, but aside from Potter throwing more anxious looks at his long time crush, he seemed to have decided giving her space for once would be better than jumping her for attention at further news of their demise.

So Alice took it upon herself to go up to her and give her a kindly pat on the shoulder. They hadn't spoken much outside of class, or in them for that matter, not actually sharing any being a year older. Lily seemed to take the gesture warmly enough, patting her hand gratefully and giving her a small smile that melted away when Black only made things worse by parroting a future Petunia's rant.

Peter let out a low throated whistle. "Blimey, that is a lot of built up hatred for a sibling." He was giving an uneasy look at his two friends who had gone as long as he'd known without even looking at each other, he couldn't imagine how much worse it would be if it lasted as long as Petunia was implying about her sister.

By the end of the rant Lily's face was pinched tight together, she'd shrugged off Alice's hand and stalked as far away from everyone she could so she could mutter in silence about all of this. James didn't look much better, his teeth gritted together and having to powerfully remind himself not to deck Sirius for saying those things about Lily because he wasn't technically the one saying them, but the fascination of having a sibling like that had died as quickly as it had arisen. If they'd been blaming all of the misfortune on Harry before on Vernon, there was no longer any doubt this may well be Petunia's idea to take out her vindictiveness on Lily's only living family.

"Hagrid can threaten people with an umbrella?!" Remus gasped, having always wondered why he carried that around and this was the best answer ever. "That's it, I'm asking him to marry me!" He declared with a light smirk in place, looking determinedly at anyone but Sirius to return the smile and play along. Peter giggled slightly but refrained from joking along, so Remus sighed, wishing for the millionth time already none of this had even started.

"I'll fight you for that ring," Sirius happily butted in before Peter's laugh could subside. "Besides, we've far more in common!"

Remus pursed his lips rather than acknowledge anything more, and Sirius' smile was even more forced when he kept going after throwing a halfway look at James who was still watching the two with pity. At least they were trying now, though he was confident it had more to do with this situation and the unfamiliarity of it. They were trying to stick together rather than continue quarreling because of this, but the other two Marauders had a bad feeling that wasn't going to last long before something snapped between them again.

Tension did melt just slightly when everyone in the room gave varying laughs for Dudley getting a pig's tail out of the exchange, but Sirius hesitated in finally getting to the end, taking a careful breath and warning. "Well, this is almost over again, think there's any way to brace ourselves from that, that crappy version of apparating happening again?"

"I honestly doubt it," James sighed while still holding his hand protectively. It wasn't at all comforting the injury hadn't vanished with their previous surroundings, and while the throbbing had died down to mostly ignorable if he didn't flex his fingers, he knew it would flare up if he landed on it, again.

"May as well get it over with then, brace yourselves," Sirius sighed before finishing, and not having a moment to gloat he'd been right.

#Harry Potter #Marauders #fanfiction #James Potter #Regulus Black #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Peter Pettigrew #Lily Evans #Alice Smith #Frank Longbottom #reading the books

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james-potters-animagus · 3 years

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‘Til Kingdom Come

Remus LupinxGryffindor!Reader

Song fic based on ‘Til Kingdom Come by Coldplay its one of my favorite songs I highly suggest listening to it while you read :)

Warnings: death, angst,

The reader’s death takes a toll on Remus. Lyrics are bolded memories are italicized

Steal my heart and hold my heart

I feel my time, my time has come

“Let me in, unlock the door”

I’ve never felt this way before

Remus and Y/n met in their second year.

Y/n was sitting on the train in her own compartment when suddenly a boy with light, auburn brown hair and eyes to match bust into the compartment. She jumped, whipping her head up from her book.

“Hello. Sorry I scared you. Mind if I sit here?” He asked, setting down the jacket he had in his hands.

“Uh, no. Go right ahead.” She laughed a little, seeing the panic stretched across his face when he thought she was going to say he couldn’t sit.

She observed him, not having noticed the scar on his face. Raking her eyes over it she saw how deep it seemed to be. She was quite curious, but knew her boundaries, so didn’t ask.

“Hey, you’re Y/n right? Y/n Y/l/n?” Remus asked suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts.

She blinked, gaining her confidence to speak. “Oh, yeah. Yeah that’s me.” She swallowed, not meeting his eyes. Why was she so shy all of a sudden? “You’re Remus Lupin.”

“Yep. An unfortunate friend of James, Sirius, and Peter, considering the fact that I had to disturb your reading. Little Women. One of my favorites by the way.” He apologized, eyeing the book she was reading.

“Mine too. This is probably my fourth time reading it.” She laughed, opening up to the boy. They had met only a few moments ago but she felt at home with him. And so did he.

As the time went on the pair became inseparable, it was hard to find one without the other. Y/n also became acquainted to the rest of the Marauders, but wasn’t nearly as close to them as she was with Remus.

The pair had gotten married two years out of Hogwarts. They had their first child around the same time as James and Lily. The six of them spent quite a bit of time with each other. Then, Halloween of 1981 came upon the group.

Remus was off on a little work trip and Y/n was with the Potters. They had planned to hang out that night, and plan Sirius’ 21st birthday party.

The door of the Potter’s home in Godric’s hollow opened to Voldemort.

“Lily, Y/n! Take the kids! I’ll distract him!” James shouted, seeing the two take the children and run up the stairs.

A green light flashed throughout the small house and Lily choked back a sob. Y/n closed her eyes, soothing her baby. Adrian wailed, sensing the tension in the air.

As Voldemort ascended up the stairs to the nursery Y/n felt her breathing run ragged. She knew this would be the end. She held Lily’s hand as he threw the door open.

“Have mercy! Please don’t touch the children!” Lily pleaded, getting cut short by Voldemort sending an Avada Kedavra her way.

“No!” Y/n yelled, placing Adrian next to Harry in the crib. She stood, pulling her wand from her back pocket.

“What is this? Someone brave enough to face me? After all these years Y/n. Too bad it’ll end in my favor. Really though, I’ll root for you.” He gave her a sinister smile, sending a crucio her way.

She jumped, the curse instead hitting the wall. He chuckled, the sound bringing a chill down her spine.

He had her trapped now, cornering her between his body and the wall. She wasn’t able to move. She cursed herself for being so dumb. Why would she move that way. Now she was going to die and so are Harry and Adrian.

“Well, I was going to not make you watch while I killed the two children who mean the most to you. But, since you tried to fight back I might as well just punish you more.” He cast a Petrificus Totalus on her as he moved toward the crib.

He started with Adrian, casting a simple Avada Kedavra, supposedly killing him. Moving on he turned to Harry, attempting the same spell. But, suddenly, his power drained and so did his physical form. He died, leaving Harry and a passed out Adrian in the crib.

Adrian woke to someone entering the room, letting out a scream of terror. There lie Lily Potter, Voldemort, and a petrified Y/n Lupin.

Severus entered the room, letting out a yell of terror. He rushed to Lily, cradling her body in his arms. Looking over, he realized Y/n wasn’t dead. He heaved, gently placing Lily’s body down and attending to Y/n.

Casting the counter spell he sat there as she woke. “Severus! Voldemort is back,” She sobbed. “And Adrian! My baby!” She quickly got up from his arms and rushed to Adrian and Harry. She smiled lightly when she saw the two practically unharmed.

Harry and Adrian, both sat with identical scars would go down in wizard history as the boys who lived.

And the wheels just keep on turning

The drummer begins to drum

I don't know which way I'm going

I don't know which way I've come

Unfortunately, Y/n didn’t last long after the incident. She was traumatized, she had a right to be. After months in St. Mungo’s her body stopped. It was quick, and painless. Remus almost didn’t notice. But he saw. As she read to him he heard her voice deteriorate, and her breathing slow down.

“Y/n? Y/n no. Y/n baby! Nurse! Someone! Help!” Remus sputtered, watching the life slip away from his beloved wife.

A part of Remus died that day too. He was her crutch. How could he raise Adrian on his own! He could barley take care of himself. What would he do on a full moon? Sirius betrayed the Potters and killed Peter, so he couldn’t ask for help from any of his friends.

Oh, and his best friend betrayed his family. The weight came crushing down on him. He wasn’t ready to do this.

He walked out of St. Mungo’s and apparated back to his small flat with Adrian.

Adrian began to cry for his mom and Remus tried to soothe him. ‘Y/n was always better at this.’ He thought, unable to hold back the dam anymore. The tears flooded his eyes, sinking to the floor with Adrian still in his arms. The two cried until Adrian fell asleep, allowing Remus to bring him up to his crib.

As Remus walked toward his old school he realized just what he had gotten himself into. He would be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, seeing as Gilderoy Lockhart bowed out after the Chamber of Secrets incident.

Adrian was now in his third year, and was happy to have his father with him at school. He was sorted into Gryffindor, just like both of his parents. He quickly became friends with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, which Remus was happy about.

Y/n had been friends with Neville’s parents, Alice and Frank when they were in school. In fact, they were Adrian’s God parents. Unfortunately, they had been tortured so much that they were unable to take care of Neville, so he lived with his grandmother. But Remus couldn’t ask her to take care of his son as well.

Y/n sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall talking with Alice Fortescue and Lily Evans. Mid conversation she heard Remus enter the hall, according to his barking laugh that could be heard from miles away. She smiled at the sound, not having to look up to feel his presence next to her.

Remus learned how to protect Adrian as the full moons went on. He always made sure Adrian was fully asleep before he left for the night, charming a small radio to play the white noise he fell asleep to. Usually Adrian stayed asleep, but on the rare occasion he didn’t Remus’ neighbors, the Tonks, would help Adrian back to sleep.

Remus kept on, Adrian being one of the only reasons he was still here. He couldn’t do that to the poor boy. He knew what Harry had to be going through, he couldn’t let Adrian go through that too. Not if he could change that.

Hold my head inside your hands

I need someone who understands

I need someone, someone who hears

For you, I've waited all these years

Remus could sometimes feel she was there. On full moons usually. He’d wait for the transformations to begin, and while he waited sometimes he could hear her voice, or feel her touch. It was always comforting, she only was there when he was down, or nervous. Like a little boost. She didn’t dare come while he was happy, not wanting to ruin his mood when he realized she wasn’t physically there.

Remus sat in the shrieking shack, waiting for the transformation to begin. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks. The memories of his time at Hogwarts coming back to him. He then felt a presence next to him, a comforting one at that. A head rested on his shoulder as he sat there, tears being wiped off his face.

“Hi Remus.” Y/n’s voice sounded, pulling Remus from his thoughts.

“Y/n?” He choked back a sob at the sound of her voice, peering down to see a slightly faded version of his lover.

“It’s good to see you again darling.” Y/n murmured, wiping the continuous tears streaming down his face.

“I don’t understand. How are you here?” He asked, stroking her hair lightly.

“I’m just here for a little bit, to help you through the transformation.” She smiled, leading him up from the floor where he previously sat.

For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come

Until my day, my day is done

And say you'll come and set me free

Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me

It had been a particularly hard full moon, Remus lie on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, blood spilling from his gashes on his chest. He knew if he didn’t get up now for help he wouldn’t make it. Y/n appeared again, coaxing him up to find someone to help him.

“It’s not your time yet Rem. Trust me, I wish it was. I miss you. But Harry needs you. Go help him.” She consoled.

It was now the end of the Second Wizarding War and Remus was teetering on the edge of death. He had just been hit with an Avada Kedavra, coming from a death eater. As he lie there, he saw Y/n again.

“Remus. Hi honey.” She smiled gracefully, looking as beautiful as ever.

“Y/n. You look different.” He observed, pulling her into his grasp. This was different than transformations. On full moons he wasn’t able to actually hold her. Now, he stood, holding her as tightly as he could. Sirius and James stood behind her, smiling at the sight. Remus was happy again.

“It’s your time now darling.” Y/n graced, pulling him toward the rest of the Marauders and a scared looking Fred Weasley.

#Spotify

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29-pieces · 4 years

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Whumptober day 23 - Good Omens

Day 23: Sleep Deprivation Fandom/setting: Good Omens - pre-Apocalypse, shortly after Crowley wakes up from the century he decided to snooze through Read on AO3 Read on FF.net

~*~

The pain was more than he could stand, a coursing, biting, stinging, agonizing pain. Crowley slumped forward in the chair he was bound to, wrists tugging desperately at ropes that had been secured by a duke of Hell and therefore weren't going to come loose no matter how much he struggled. Blood dripped from a dozen different cuts across his face, chest, and limbs... he'd lost so much of it already, it was a wonder his body didn't discorporate...

A dagger flashed, taking another slice out of his cheek. Crowley cried out with pain and it was too much, it was all too much, the relentless torment. As the blood flowed, his vision started going grey at the edges, then darker grey, then black... Somewhere in the distance, a nasty voice was saying nasty things, but Crowley lost all sense of it as he dipped at last into blessed, merciful, beautiful unconsciousness.

ZAP!

Crowley heard himself screaming as the electric current tore through every muscle in his body, the heat burning his throat where the collar made contact with skin. Jolted back awake, he straightened in the chair and panted, trying to breathe through the sobs.

"Ah-ah," Hastur said, crouching down in front of Crowley and patting his cheek. "Best stay awake if you don't want that to happen again." He grinned, though, jagged teeth showing that he very much wanted that to happen again.

Crowley trembled as the electric current slowly dissipated, then looked up at his tormentor.

"Come on, fellas," he wheezed plaintively, watching Hastur stand and start to stalk around him, while Ligur lounged nearby with a grin. "I got it, okay? I learned my lesson, we- we don't have to keep doing this-"

"Beelzebub thinks otherwise," Ligur reminded him. "Hastur and I got the whole year off just to keep this up and make sure the lesson sinks in. It's only been... what's it been, Hastur?"

"A week," Hastur replied. The toad on top of his head croaked delightedly. "So get used to pain for a while, Crowley. You got fifty-one more to go."

"Can't- can't we talk about this? I swear I'll do better-"

"A century, Crowley. A century of temptations and spreading evil and potential souls for our side, gone to waste."

Crowley leaned away from the dagger hovering over one of his snake eyes, still shaking. "I already said I was sorry-"

"You're here to do a job, not sleep."

"I told you, I was recovering, my angel nemesis had-"

"You got a boo-boo and decided to have a nice lie-in? For a hundred years? And thought that was going to go over well?" Hastur tsk-ed. "And you claim to be so clever. Well, you had your nice little century long nap, so do you know what you'll be doing for the next century?" Hastur pressed the dagger into Crowley's cheek, letting the snake demon's blood drip down the blade as he flashed his teeth again. "Not sleeping."

"Your new little collar will see to that," Ligur tittered. "Every time you fall asleep..." He punched a fist into his palm. "Zap!"

"For a hundred years." Hastur pulled the dagger away, then plunged it hilt-deep into Crowley's abdomen.

Crowley had spent the first two days trying not to give them any satisfaction, but that had quickly gone out the window under Hastur's skillful hands: he threw his head back and screamed. This, of course, only ignited the bloodlust in Hastur's eyes. The toad croaked again as Hastur withdrew the dagger and then stabbed it in once more several inches away. Crowley choked on blood, feeling the hot liquid dribbling from his mouth. The edges of his vision were going dark again, the pain too much to tolerate even as he frantically tried to stay awake to avoid the jolt of electricity that would be following soon.

He couldn't stop... he was slipping...

...

ZAP!

Crowley screamed again and sobbed, writhing in his chair as he rode through yet another wave of the electricity. A year of this?! Hastur wasn't going to get bored and leave him alone, Crowley was really going to spend the entire year tied to this chair in unending torment. They'd already warned him they had pre-filed the paperwork to fast-track his recorporation in case he died, which meant there was no mercy coming. Hot tears slid down Crowley's face, hating that it had only taken a week for them to break him of any pride.

"Let's start again," Hastur beamed. "Ligur, you want a turn?"

Crowley shrank back as much as he could in the chair, but of course he was helpless...

The door to the shack burst in suddenly, blown off its hinges. Crowley had just enough time to see a blinding ring of heavenly light, his befuddled mind whispering "angel", before a concussive whomp knocked him senseless.

...ZAP!

Crowley shrieked as the electric current ran right over the pathways it had just burned through his muscles before he'd had the slightest chance to heal, only multiplying the pain. He writhed and shook, his own body no longer under his control, while somewhere beside him he heard a horrified, frantic voice calling his name. Then he was pitching forward, wrists free of their bonds, straight into something soft and sturdy.

"Crowley, oh Crowley, my poor boy, what in Heaven's name have they done to you? What- what is that thing?"

Hands at his throat, ripping the shock collar off his neck, and Crowley trembled with relief.

"Angel," he whispered hoarsely. Weakly, he smiled up at his savior, meeting Aziraphale's stricken eyes. "Good timing..."

"Why are they hurting you?" the angel cried. "I haven't seen you in... must be a hundred years, at least..." He blanched, then gasped, "You haven't been here that whole time?"

Crowley shook his head in reassurance, rubbing his shredded wrists painfully. "Week," he murmured. "They- they weren't happy with me..." He looked around Aziraphale to see Hastur and Ligur unconscious on the floor. Pity they didn't have a demonic shock collar to wake them, he thought resentfully.

The angel rumbled with displeasure, then quietly offered, "Let me heal you."

He reached for Crowley, but the demon pulled away. "Best not," he said mournfully. "Be hard enough to find a convincing lie for Beelzebub what happened here... an angel bursts in and the one demon who's already down for the count is rescued and healed?"

Aziraphale slumped but nodded, then tensed. "I- I suppose I should... kill them," he said doubtfully. "I came investigating because of all the demonic energy coming from this place..."

As much as the idea genuinely appealed to Crowley, he shook his head with regret. "Can't do that, either," he decided. "Be even more suspicious, wouldn't it? That you killed two dukes but I escaped."

This did bring a conundrum, the more he thought about it. Even if he did "miraculously escape" the angel, he hadn't finished his punishment from Beelzebub. Crowley trembled with the idea of enduring the remainder of the year like this, and another 99 without the ability to sleep. He couldn't do it. But... Crowley's mind began to race as the beginnings of a plan came together. He looked up at Aziraphale and grimly smiled. ~*~

Aziraphale tried not to pace, but really his nerves were shot. Crowley had sworn he would come back up as soon as he'd checked in with Beelzebub, but until he did so, the angel had no way of knowing if Crowley's clever tongue was going to be enough this time. It sounded like he'd been in dreadful trouble, now he was walking straight back into Hell? Then again, what else could he do short of running away and being hunted forever? Aziraphale wrung his hands, already toying with the idea of how he might justify to Heaven that he simply had to go and rescue a demon from Hell...

The door opened and Aziraphale spun around, then nearly sagged with relief to see Crowley trudging in, clearly exhausted and still covered in horrible wounds, but still very much alive.

"It worked?" he asked anxiously, hurrying to meet his friend.

Crowley nodded, managing a smile. "Beelzebub bought it," he said with a shrug. "I just said that collar woke me up after you knocked us all out, and that you decided to brutally torture me for information-"

Aziraphale squeaked in dismay, even though he knew of course this had always been part of the plan, and that of course he hadn't actually done so. But, just, the thought...

Ignoring him, Crowley went on, "And I had to use all my wiles to trick you into believing false information, that Hastur and Ligur were considering turning traitor. So of course you spared their lives, not wanting to kill potential future informants."

"And Beelzebub believed that?" Aziraphale couldn't help but repeat incredulously.

Crowley shrugged. "S'not like Hastur or Ligur can dispute it, being unconscious for the whole thing and all. Told them you'd decided to let me go afterward as payment for the 'information', then I brought the dukes down to safety. Saved their miserable lives, I did. Two dukes, and I out-wiled a principality to boot. Beelzebub commuted the rest of my sentence for it."

Aziraphale shook his head, watching the snake demon with pure admiration. "I must say, you have quite the clever mind, my dear. Now then... I understand you can't be sleeping a whole century through again, but mightn't it be prudent to rest for a little while and let your body heal from that horrid Hastur? You... you can stay here at my place, if you like," he added, feeling a touch of heat on his cheeks. He hurried to add, "I mean, no demon is going to think of checking up on you here, especially now that I'm the, er... brutally torturing principality. You might even let me have a look at those wounds now?"

Crowley glanced down and raised a noncommittal shoulder. "Er... yeah, alright," he said. "Not sure I could even get back home, to be honest. So exhausted..."

"Then it's settled," Aziraphale decided decisively. "You make yourself at home, I'm going to put some water on to boil. You're safe here, Crowley."

The demon nodded, a wan smile crossing his face. "Erm... you know..."

He trailed off, but he didn't need to finish. Aziraphale smiled back, then hurried to fetch the water.

You're welcome, he silently replied.

#whumptober2020 #no.23 #Sleep Deprivation #Good Omens #fanfiction #Crowley whump #Aziraphale to the rescue #pre-apocalypse

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pettyelves · 4 years

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feast on the weak III

[pt1 pt2] [companion by reveria]

"You..." He said quietly. Casually. "Woul' ge' bored with a gentle man an' you woul' chase a soft man into his grave quicker than time itself."

He was right. And the night of the fire, she proved to Kurel that he was unmatched by any that came before him and any who would attempt to come after. The wee hours of the morning promised uncertainty and danger, but in the night she showed him tenderness and he returned it.

Eilithe awoke to his fingers against her spine and sun worn lips to her head. “Wake up. It’s time.”

The moon was just barely still hanging in the sky over Elwynn when Eilithe arrived at the safe house much more armored than Kurel. His precaution for giving his other half potentially more advantages than it already had was sweet-- but did not fit Eilithe’s narrative of ‘It will all be fine’.

“Go into the woods," she said to the two Sun Wardens. "Come back when I tell you to, so don't go far. And stay together." Neither of them questioned the Arbiter, assuming whatever was happening was about to be above their pay grade. They were right.

Housed in this particularly safe house was a captured prisoner-- though it wasn’t any man or demon. No, inside was a rock that at first glance, was a ordinary. Until one noticed the jagged teeth that jutted out of a lip in the middle of its body. Its sharp edges were offset by deep cracks and it rolled or hopped to get around. What disturbed Eilithe most was that looking at the monster’s teeth, she noticed that there were all different types. Elves, humans, animals.

“We do you wan’ me?” Kurel’s voice came.

She wanted him home, in bed-- awaiting the sound of their children’s feet to patter across the floor. A signal for them to get up and start their day.

"Just lay there against the wall.”

There were no chains that could hold the behemoth inside of Kurel when it broke free. The last time the other half of Kurel had freed himself, Eilithe had nearly died trying to carve the brand that stared back at Eilithe now, from across the room.

For three years, that thing had held.

Eilithe cut along her palm and dipped her fingers into the blood. The cage holding the toothy rock was set beside Kurel and as she wove a trapping rune on the ground she listened to the creature thud its head into the bars. Thud. Thud. Thud. It shrieked, hungry.

Once her mark was painted onto the ground. Eilithe crossed the room to press a long kiss to his lips, which for them was the only goodbye ever shared. She stood on top of her seal, faced off against him.

“When you’re ready put your hand in the cage.” Eilithe readied herself, which was really just here, standing there-- controlling her breathing. She watched as the Rock sprang up and snapped its jaws delighted. "EATS EATS EATS!" He jumped and latched onto the meatiest finger. A hunk of flesh was his snack and the deep bite would bleed.

feast on the weak, subjugate the strong.

She watched the slivers of blackness crawl up Kurel’s arm. It wasn’t right-- it had taken more time when the rock had bit her.

"How do we know? If we're righ'... if we're wrong."

"I...don't know, " Eilithe said, resisting the urge to run across to him. "It.. I didn't even notice at first, just... rage and paranoia, a headache. And by time I started acting strangely you reasoned with me and I cut it out."

His breathing quickened, like he was fighting back panic. Then his head raised, like he was looking at someone beside him. “ Thelonas." And so she was left with only one conclusion.

The dark passenger within Kurel had been waiting for an opportunity like this since the War of Dead Sun when Eilithe had imprisoned him. POP POP POP. Three seals of five, then four.

“It isn’t real, Kurel!”

"KUREL LISTEN TO ME! HE'S NOT REAL!" She screamed it, in a way that rattled the walls of the shack, like the creaking of a massive ship on the water. "Fight it, Kurel." Eilithe began sucking in magic, death magic had a way of making the air in the room as cold as the Void did. She took up her ritual knife and clutched it, not as though she would attack him but pointed, blade at herself. The rock seemed to chatter and bounce at this. It was excited to see the pair of them unravel so quickly.

"Living,” Kurel said, but it was not to Eilithe. "No..." Kurel choked on the word. That fifth rune burst and the instant it did, a soul gutting sound of pain ripped from Kurel's throat. He made as if he intended to run, but made no further than onto his hands and knees. The bones in his body cracked and moved. Muscle swelled and expanded. The pigment of his skin turned redder. His hands more like claws and from his forehead sprouted horns. The rocks which had steadily been moving beneath his skin like blood through vessels, began to literally be purged through the pours between his scaly skin and tinkled like rain drops on the floor as the behemoth slowly began to rise up onto two feet.

When the final seal burst, a flood of magic hit Eilithe squarely in the chest. The eye at the center of his own brand seared between her breasts, she went sailing across the room and hit the wall. "Vula, manje," she said, groaning. The spell came to life and the room around them pulsed and shimmer.

"It's just you and me." She said, getting to her feet, clutching the knife. "And I'll take us both to the Void, before you leave here like that. If we go, we're going together." The magic in the air twisted, and with it so did Eilithe's soul within his chest. But the soul wasn't preparing to leave him-- it was pulling, like a magnet. "Ngesango lokufa," she said, raising the knife up. Her soul, Svalte’s, and Vrede’s practically lifted out right then. "UKENDA IMILIGO!" Eilithe rammed the knife in hard stab to the abdomen. It was the sort of stab, that would be lethal with enough time.

A glass shattering shriek came out of her and with it so did Eilithe's soul shoot to the half remaining within him. While the traditional Ukenda voided most magic, this was a most advanced version. A kind that required a sacrifice. When she cast this spell normally, a droplet of blood was usually all that was needed but with the goal being to immobilize the demon to give her soul time to repair the damage, Eilithe had to give up more.

Eilithe's soul would twist and pull inside of Kurel's body, essentially taking the war to the inside of him. With every moment Eilithe was dying, demonic magics that fueled him would be harder to maintain.

Inside of Kurel’s body it was crowded and hot. Eilithe’s soul felt the slow death of its body as the behemoth smashed her around. Four sharp claws dragged down the original brand on Kurel’s chest, and so Eilithe would have to carve a new one.

She ripped at his back, carving with her very essence a new brand. Eilithe was not sure how Reveria, Xavier, An’Set, and Velerodra had gotten there-- but she could only hear them. Inside of Kurel, she could feel too as An’Set’s knife dragged across the behemoth’s skin. “Do not kill him.” She tried to say, but none of them heard her.

It was then that Reveria’s magic dared to pull on her. She could not fathom why Reveria would even attempt to pull her out of where she was. And this would be the source of deep resentment if she survived. Thrice as hard was it to to continue her work. Reveria pulled in one direction. Her in another. And Death itself tugged and told her it was time to cross over.

With her work nearly finished, Eilithe’s soul rose out of his back and burst into pieces, preparing to rain down into the bloody seal that was carved into his back.

Then. Time stopped.

Awareness was difficult. And there was an eeriness to the idea that while they were frozen, all throughout the forest things kept moving. Could she hear herself breathing? No, it was the icy breath of Death that waited, with patience for her to get this over with and die.

By some miracle, her voice spoke against Xavier’s ear.

“Let.” “Me.” “Free”

There was a hiccup as time started again, in time for spidery limbs to pin the behemoth down and Eilithe’s soul to power the mark in a hard, grey flash of light.

Stillness came again. Kurel transforming back into the man she married. Outside, her dying body had been dragged. The knife in her chest, removed. Death receded from this place.

Yet, Eilithe stay coiled in her lover’s back, she was too weak to leave him so quickly. It was all-in-all two hours she had spent outside of her body, and when she returned to it-- only half of her did. Eilithe’s soul was split between them, Half of her to power the mark on his back, half to keep her physical body up and running around.

It was a whole night before they would wake in the New Year, his arms hold her to his chest. Their son asleep on the floor beside them. “You coul’ have died.” He rasped out. “I didn’t.” She said, then protested as he went to Xavier to collect him. “I know you didn’... an’ I will carry him.”

That morning, Kurel would stoop to lift their grown son up in his arms and carry him out of the safe house and into the daylight.

@kurel-andiel @revthepunchbear @xavier-sunshadow @velerodra-valesinger

#feast on the weak III #finale #happy new year #it walks among us

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escapefromarchoncastle · 4 years

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Chapter One – Archon Castle Is Not What It Seems

Terry trudged up the gravel path, already dreading Archon Castle was not going to live up to the promotional material. The ravens and vultures, perched like Halloween ornaments on a sprawling oak tree, looked embarrassingly fake. Bald patches of black plastic gleamed between the glued-on feathers. He should have figured. His parents had warned him. At fifteen, he was no longer a child. It was stupid to believe magic existed outside of camera tricks and CGI. Yet he held onto a fraying thread of hope, the same way he had with Santa Claus each Christmas until he was nearly in middle school.

A caw loud as a falcon’s screech startled him. He stopped at the edge of the trail and gawked up. The blackbirds had come alive. They fluttered their wings, still looking a bit mangy. They stared down at him as if they were sizing up their next meal. Terry continued walking, more slowly now, and glancing over his shoulder at each odd sound in the woods. None of the other hundred-odd kids traipsing along the same trail appeared at all spooked. They all had eager expressions on their faces, eyes wide as if they’d never seen trees in their wild habitat before.

The stone walls of the castle came into view above the canopy of evergreen trees. Terry felt his breath sucking deep into his lungs at the imposing sight. Archon Castle sat atop a black, craggy cliff, menacing and ancient. Clouds had gathered overhead. Mist swirled around. He came around a bend and trail ended at a drawbridge flanked by a pair of watchtowers. The top of a turret beyond had crumbled as if a bad-tempered giant had kicked at it. Even after studying countless pictures online, Terry still found it hard to believe such a castle existed in West Virginia of all places. It looked as though it belonged off the coast of Ireland or had come from another realm.

A large boy bumped against Terry. Terry did his best to ignore him as he bumped against him a second time. Probably Chad. Terry’d noticed him in the parking lot earlier, picking a fight with an Asian boy until his dad called him away. Again he found himself staring at the castle, filled with an uncanny sensation he was being drawn into another time and place. The walls looked so ancient. Rock had crumbled away from the narrow arrow slits. Most of the tiles on top of the watchtowers were cracked or missing. The wooden timbers used for the drawbridge must be over a thousand years old. The trail turned sharply and descended again. The castle was no longer in their view.

“Hey. You.”

Sweat trickled down Terry’s spine as he braved a glance. Chad’s eyes were locked on someone else thankfully, a small blond boy with a bad haircut. Terry froze, unsure what to do. He wasn’t one to take on bullies, but this kid was half Chad's size. Terry's hands curled into fists. His fingers flexed. He used to be the little guy everyone had picked on but he’d grown quite a bit since the seventh grade. Chad wasn’t that big; he could take him. Terry had fantasized, repeatedly, of exactly this scenario where he’d seize the bully by his shoulder, force him around, and land a hard boxer’s punch to knock him out cold.

Paralyzed with indecision, he watched Chad grab onto the boy’s yellow tennis shirt and pull it over his head. The boy went to head-butt him, missed, and plowed into a red-haired girl. Enraged, she let out a shriek and tore at both of them, her fingers like bared claws. Terry ducked away from the melee and stood on the grass verge. He was about to pull Chad off the boy when a man in long black robes fluttered up to them.

“ENOUGH!” the man roared, grabbing Chad by the scruff of his hoodie. “Any more of this and you won’t be wondering whether this castle has a dungeon.”

Chad went pale. His body quivered. Eyes bugged out, he stammered, “Y-y-yeah. S-suh-sir.”

The blond boy pulled his yellow shirt back down, smoothed his hair, and gulped as if he were staring into the face of Death. “I’m sorry mister.”

The scuffle was over. Terry’s chance at a moment of glory had passed. Disappointed and yet also relieved, he secured the strap of his backpack against his shoulder and got back on the gravel trail. The man in black was gone as quickly as he’d appeared. Chad and some of the others craned their heads around, brows furrowed, until someone pointed out a shadow slinking through the trees. The tall dark figure was moving way too fast and smoothly for it to be a person running. Terry's skin flushed with excitement––the man was flying! He was only a foot or two off the ground, but still, he was skimming into the woods like a hovercraft.

The trail veered upward again. Terry wondered if they were ever going to reach the gates. The last he’d glimpsed, the castle had looked so close and now he could see nothing again but pine and fir trees.

“Oh my God, this is Archon Castle?” a girl’s dismayed voice cried somewhere up ahead. “What a dump!”

Terry caught up with her at the top of the hill and stared ahead, dismayed. She wasn’t kidding. To say this castle was in disrepair was like saying a bombed-out ruin just needed a little fixing up. The entire western wall had crumbled to rubble. The castle still looked as if it had been built much earlier than the mid-1800s, and had been under siege for most of it.

He gulped and eyed the sagging roof of the keep. He’d seen abandoned farmhouses in better condition. The gatehouse was even more dilapidated. The tower on the left had partially collapsed. The timbers keeping the tower on the right propped up looked about as sturdy as twigs for a hermit shack. A sewer-like stench wafted into his nostrils. The stink was coming from the swampy, algae-filled moat.

“May I have your attention!” a surly voice called. Different from the one who’d broken up that fight. Everyone huddled together, keeping their distance from the figure in front of the gatehouse. He also wore a black cloak, his face hidden in the shadows of his hood. His arms were raised up high so that he formed the shape of a cross. He looked more like the figure of Death than a wizard. All he was missing was a scythe. “Once you have passed onto the grounds of Archon castle, you will be unable to leave before summer end. I strongly advise anyone wishing to turn back, to do so now.”

A boy on Terry’s left raised his hand.

“Yes?”

The boy gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Do we get a refund, sir?”

“NO.”

Terry was torn. All his life he’d dreamt of becoming a wizard. Yet his parents were practical people, who stressed the importance of having a backup plan no matter what dreams you aspired to. Although not quite ready to let go of his childish fantasies, he did have an alternative career in mind. He’d be a journalist. That way if he failed at becoming a wizard this summer, he’d have a good story to write about. His Uncle Pete said the boilerplate non-disclosure form Terry’d had to sign was bull-puckey. If he turned back now, he’d have nothing. He watched Chad whisper to the one asking about the refund.

More loudly Chad said, “Only welfare cases think ten grand is a lot of money. Let’s blow this joint!” Chad patted the boy’s shoulder and the two of them began jogging back down the trail. It figured, bullies were always the biggest wimps. Another two dozen or so followed.

“Good riddance,” a dark haired girl whispered in a singsong voice to no one in particular. “The fewer people who go inside, the higher my own chance of becoming an initiate.”

She had a point. She began striding forward and Terry followed her onto the drawbridge. A sharp, cracking sound sent stabs of terror into his chest as a plank gave way beneath his foot. He stumbled onto a sturdier plank, and stayed put until his heart was no longer pounding against his rib-cage. He looked down. Through a gap between two rotting planks, he could see rusted spikes jutting out of the algae below. He also caught sight of an odd ripple on the surface near a patch of lily pads.

“Oh my, that was close,” the girl said. She, too, was staring down at the spikes. She looked up at Terry, wide-eyed. She grinned, her face flushed with excitement. “We nearly died!”

“Um, yes,” he said for the sake of saying something. He looked up, and immediately regretted doing so. The bottom of the portcullis suspended in the archway he was passing under had spikes like iron teeth about to chomp down on them.

“What are those holes up there?” She pointed at a series of charred holes in the ceiling, each about a foot in diameter.

“Murder holes,” Terry answered. “If invaders managed to storm the gates, soldiers would pour cauldrons of boiling oil onto them.”

“What a way to go!” She made sure to avoid walking directly under any large holes the rest of the way. So did Terry. Archon Castle was definitely creepy—it felt creepy—and not in a good way like a haunted house theme park, but in a bad way like a car following at a walking pace just a few feet behind.

The girl continued along, testing her weight on each plank before stepping onto it fully. Terry followed right behind her. Being heavier, he had to be even more careful going across. He’s already had one break from under him. He glanced over his shoulder and figured they were halfway along. Several had already given and were heading back up the trail.

Terry was tempted to join them. But this might be his only chance to learn any form of magic, the only place that mysterious online message had said it existed. Real magic was supposed to be scary. In the material that had accompanied his application forms, the first line explicitly stated that this camp was not for the faint of heart. And, according to Uncle Pete, the waivers his parents had had to sign assuring Archon Castle LLC that Terry was in good health, were ironclad.

He edged forward, tensing with each step and then breathing a sigh of relief as the boards held. Rusty chains creaked. The drawbridge shuddered beneath his feet. Behind him, a voice called, “Get a move on!” They were raising the bridge already! Terry leapt along the firmest looking planks until he was safely on solid ground again. Others pressed against him as they were herded into a courtyard. The drawbridge was rising more quickly now. He watched at least two dozen kids clamber back over it with the desperation of last-minute Christmas shoppers. Fighting the urge to follow them, he reminded himself that the more people who chickened out, the fewer he’d have to compete with.

The drawbridge closed with a thud. The ground shook like a small earthquake. He even felt that same queer liquid sensation under his feet that he'd experienced back home in California a few times.

Dreading whatever he’d just gotten himself into, he turned to face the castle. And gasped. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and gawked around in amazement. The surrounding buildings now looked as though they’d been created for a theme park they were in such good condition! The massive rectangular keep stood tall and proud, weathered just enough to assure Terry it was nearly two centuries old. The whitewashed plaster on the rambling Tudor-style buildings to his left gleamed in the noonday sun. The earlier decrepitude must have been an illusion to frighten away the weak-willed. Pride swelled him at the thought he may have passed his first test, though it deflated just as quickly.

“Form a line side by side!” a deep voice barked. A hand gripped Terry’s shoulder, icy through the thick fabric of his t-shirt. The man was an Adept, dressed in a crimson silk robe with gold stars embossed along the hem. A shadow fell over Terry and cool, slippery fabric slid down over his head and arms. He was then jerked around and shoved next to a girl in a light blue robe. The same dark-haired girl who’d been in front of him as they crossed the drawbridge. Terry looked down to see he was now wearing a similar robe.

“Why does it have to be blue?” she mumbled, bunching the fabric in her fists. On her feet she wore a pair of pink and white polka dot flip flops. “Blue is a boy’s colour.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Terry said. “My sister’s favourite colour is a light—”

“QUIET!” the same Adept who’d grabbed his shoulder yelled. “Everyone form a line.”

Terry stood behind the girl. The Adept snatched his shoulders again and made him stand next to her. “A side by side line.”

“Wouldn’t that be a row?” She jerked back as if she’d been slapped across her face, yet the Adept’s hand hadn’t moved anywhere near her. She scowled, rubbed her cheek, and glowered at Terry.

“It wasn’t me.” Terry waited until the Adept was out of earshot. “I think he used his Astral hand on you.” He tried to remember what else he’d read about Astral combat. Everything he’d brushed up on the past few weeks was beginning to blur.

“This place is awfully sexist,” she whispered and Terry nodded. Whenever that word came up he’d been trained from early childhood to nod and say nothing. “I only see ten other girls here. Fifteen at most. Though you did make a good point about blue. Cerulean is a lovely shade. And so is lapis lazuli.”

Already she was getting on his nerves. Hoping she’d take a hint, Terry fixed his gaze at the row of Adepts assembling across from them. They stood at the base of a square stone tower that dwarfed everyone in the courtyard. A portly Master Adept, in a burgundy robe covered in gold and black squiggly marks, stepped forward. He pulled back his hood. He had jowls like a St. Bernard and wisps of white hair sprung from his head in a feathery crown. “Welcome to Wizard Camp,” he said. His voice sounded like a bulldozer with engine trouble. “As you may already be aware, I am Quindalore the Querulous, Learned Master Adept of the Order of Nine.”

An Adept behind Quindalore coughed lightly into his fist. According to Archon Castle’s own website, the Order of Nine was down to seven. The fate of the missing two was unknown. According to a thread on the unofficial Archon Castle forum, one of the Order had ascended into a Being of Pure Light and Energy, while another claimed he’d run off with an underage neophyte. Terry knew what underage implied, but not neophyte, though he assumed it was equally as lurid.

“Presently,” Master Adept Quindalore said, “there are a hundred and six of you joining us today, of which three will be invited to become Initiates. Initiation is the first step on the path to becoming a wizard proper. Sixty-eight of you, so far, turned back at the drawbridge.”

Everyone chuckled uncomfortably like someone had just farted during a funeral speech. Terry glanced around, dismayed. With everyone massed together, he realised how terrible his odds actually were. Roughly two percent. Then again, if everyone was able to grasp the true odds of success in any endeavour, no one would take risks.

Quindalore continued, “During the next two months you will learn basic spell casting, rune reading, dowsing and divining, and, before anyone asks, there will be no handling any wands.”

“Do we get to summon demons?” a voice piped up. A boy around ten or eleven, with a blond pudding bowl haircut, grinned eagerly. The collar of his canary-yellow t-shirt poked from under his blue robe. The boy Chad had been bullying.

“NO!” There wasn’t much force behind Quindalore’s voice, but the volume was deafening.

Terry gulped. He had questions, loads of questions, and decided it would be wiser to let other kids do the asking.

“For the time being you will each be assigned a group number. The Adept in charge of your group will show you to your sleeping quarters. We will meet back here in precisely half an hour for your orienteering session.”

Orienteering session didn’t sound frightening; it was the sort of thing his dad did for a living. But it was the way Quindalore had said it that made the hairs of his arms stand on end.

The poppy-robed Adepts split apart. They each carried an iron cauldron hanging from the crooks of their arms with the ease of an empty picnic basket. Super-human strength would be cool to learn, Terry thought. His parents had bought him a weight set, but he kept forgetting to use them.

The Adepts proceeded to take slips of paper out from their cauldrons, pinning one to each of the blue robes nearest them.

“I wonder how they select us,” the girl next to Terry said. “We’re being assigned different numbers.” She had fine brownish-black hair that went past her shoulders and a nearly perfect profile. He hated when he noticed such things in a girl. Especially ones who got on his nerves.

Leaning close enough for him to smell the strawberry scent of her hair, she rasped, “Matching vibrational energy, do you think? Or maybe they can see auras in broad daylight!”

Terry said nothing. He had no idea what vibrational energy involved and didn’t want her thinking he was stupid. Besides, he doubted there was any deliberate selection process at all. Each adept was speeding through with the efficiency of a factory production line. Once they were done, Terry and the girl looked down, then they looked at each other.

“We’ve been assigned the same number. But it had been different Adepts who had …” She stared off, as if she’d seen the first crack in what she’d always thought was solid ground beneath her feet and was afraid to check if it was widening. Terry didn’t care; he was just happy he’d been assigned a lucky number. Nothing was luckier than seven, surely.

“Number sevens, follow me!” A female adept with close-set eyes signalled to them and marched towards a set of low stone buildings beyond the square tower. A couple of reddish horses with black manes were tied to a post near the side entrance. One of them snorted and stamped its hoof as Terry filed after the other twenty-odd kids into the building. The coolness after the hot noonday sun was refreshing but inside it was damp, dark, and reeked of manure.

They were led past a maze of horse stalls into a large, rectangular room with stone walls and a peaked wood ceiling. Sunlight slanted in through high, small windows, giving the place a subterranean feel. Here the stench of manure wasn't as overpowering, more like a room where people had been smoking cigars the night before and figured opening one window a crack was enough to air the place out. The stink was bearable.

The Adept turned on a switch next to the entrance. Floodlights attached to the wooden beams above flickered as if each of them wanted to keep hitting the snooze button before finally getting up and doing their job of illuminating the room.

“Oh no,” Terry said in a hushed voice as he looked around. Surely their beds weren't going to be ... blankets on top of bales of straw? He already knew he'd be sleeping in far less comfort than he was accustomed to. It wasn’t canopied feather beds he’d been expecting. But he was positive one of the online pictures had showed rows of hammocks, and in another he’d seen cosy little cots similar to ones in his grandfather’s summer cottage. These accommodations were what tourist brochures worldwide described as rustic, looking wonderfully quaint until you got there and discovered half the walls were missing.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Unlike after the drawbridge had closed, nothing changed. All the beds consisted of three bales of straw secured together with thick twine. A pair of scratchy-looking burlap blankets lay folded on top of each one. At the foot of each––he was loath to call them beds––was a slab of rough wood. No pillow, no storage box, and what if it got cold at night?

"No pillows?" the girl next to him whined.

The Adept traced a vaguely figure eight symbol in the air with her index finger.

"ALL RIGHT THEN," her voice boomed, shaking the rafters. She traced something else in the air and more quietly said, "One cot per person. Later this afternoon, leftover apple crates will be arriving for you to store your things in."

The same boy who'd asked about Demon summoning went up to her. "Which one's mine?"

"Any of them—just choose one per person," she said in the same irritated tone of voice his sister would use whenever she was waiting for some boy to call her back. “You neophytes get worse every year, I swear.”

A memory sprung up in Terry’s mind like a jack-in-the-box head popping out of its compartment. Of course, a neophyte was the level below Initiate. There were several other ranks above that. Junior Adept, Adept and Senior Adept followed, then onto more complex, important-sounding titles that rivalled those of a large bank or advertising firm.

“What’s your name?” the same boy asked. The pudding bowl haircut made him immune to non-verbal cues that would terrify other kids, Terry reckoned. With hair like that, he’d probably grown a very thick skin. If the school he went to was anywhere like Rosedale High, he’d need it.

“My friends, my parents, and my mentors, call me Natasha,” the Adept said, her shadow growing into that of a giant behind her. “To you, my little worm, I am Miss Huston. Don’t. Wear. It out.”

He quivered away from her.

Everyone else stood frozen like pieces on a chessboard. Seeing his chance at securing the best spot, Terry dodged around to the bundle of straw in the farthest corner. The rest elbowed their ways towards the remaining corners. Guarding his makeshift bed, Terry watched a fight break out on the opposite side of the room. A wiry boy was trying to push a larger boy off the spot he’d staked out. Terry sat to watch. He quite enjoyed fights, so long as he wasn’t involved in one himself.

The bigger boy held the other one away with his rod-straight arm, his body well out of range of the flailing fists. “Get lost, Mark—I was here first!” He ducked, sending Mark pitching forward. Before Mark could recover his balance another boy lunged at him, scrabbling at his shoulder and trying to get him into a choke-hold. Miss Huston waved her arms and the three of them flew apart from each other like exploding shrapnel.

Miss Huston addressed the quarreling boys. Her smile had a lot of teeth for someone with such a small mouth. “There’s nothing in the rules saying the two of you can’t share a bed. We wizards are very enlightened as far as romantic preferences go.”

“It's yours, cry-baby.” Mark gave the smaller boy a shove, then went to the cot in the remaining corner and pushed that kid out from it. Miss Huston watched, but said nothing.

"Miss," the girl with pink flip-flops said, tugging Miss Huston’s sleeve.

"What is it?" She wheeled around and glared at her as if the girl had just smeared mud on her nice crimson robe.

"Where are the girls supposed to go?"

"Wherever! It says dorms are co-ed right in the brochure! We do not assume gender at Archon Castle. We're very progressive here. At sixteen surely you're old enough to have acquired immunity to boy germs."

The girl swallowed and stared around, her gaze passing Terry without a glimmer of expectation. He wasn’t relieved though; he felt sad for her. Four other girls had chosen spots next to each other on the far side of the room from him, and they glared at her in that way girls glare at anyone who Does Not Belong. Mean girls, like his sister and her friends. The place next to Terry was still empty, so he rose and gestured at the spot he’d staked out. How could he not offer it under the circumstances. "You can stay here if you want. I ... I have a sister so ... I’m already used to …"

She kept her head bowed and went to stand on the far side of the one next to his, meeting his chivalric gesture halfway. He tossed his backpack into the corner and sat again.

"I'll leave you to settle in. We will meet back in the courtyard in twenty-five minutes, where you will be given your very first lesson. In alchemy," Miss Huston said, and left.

Terry’s burning excitement at the sound of the word alchemy was doused by the sight of the girl sitting on the edge of the bed next to his, facing away from him and sobbing. Crying was always more painful to watch when all you could see was their back and shoulders shaking uncontrollably, head turned down.

"I’m Terry. What's your name?" he asked softly. Across from them the other girls were snickering and whispering, hands shielding mouths, eyes wild with malice.

She sniffled. "Katya," she said at last.

"That's a nice name," he said, again for the sake of something to say. There wasn't much a bully could do with a name like that. It didn't rhyme with anything nasty like Terry Fairy or hairy Terry. The worst they could do was Fatya, but she was too slim for that to work as an insult.

She didn't respond, not that he had expected her too. It would be rude to ask her to stop crying, so he turned his attention to spreading the thin blankets out on top the bales. He lay down and bits of straw prodded his neck and ankles. Thankfully the robe’s fabric was thick. In half an hour he’d be learning his first ever magic. Alchemy. He imagined a laboratory full of bubbling beakers and alembics, watching in awe as mysterious steaming substances flowed through networks of glass pipes into copper stills. Alchemy.

#wizard #wizardschool #chosenone #learningmagic #fantasy #fantasy fiction #fantasyfiction #fantasy novel #magical creatures #alchemy #corruption #adventure #male protagonist #underdog #wizards #adepts #schoolofmagic #inverted tropes #books

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severusdefender · 5 years

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With a Bunch of AUs Combined, I am CAPTAIN PLANET-W8, wrong fandom

(Askbox is too small so I guess it’s time to show my AU spewing username I guess lol 0///0 hi…)

AUs & HCs: NotaMarauder!Remus (Possible Future Snupin) + Jily Didn’t Date-Marry Drunk1NiteStand to make Harry + DiffDads Lily&Petunia + Resurrected FaeLily AU

A Post Idea So Long that it’s almost like a Fic Outline: An AU where Remus was never a Marauder could actually is super interesting, because it has a spiraling implications on canon. Remus, Severus and Lily is like the sweet trifecta of book & magic nerds. Also like, being friends with Remus would drive Sev to research Werewolf remedies and care? Also be Concerned about his friend’s life.

But like, I’m not sure that Lily and Sev would do the exact same thing that the CanonMarauders do (learn to be Animagi and leave the Shrieking Shack w/ Remus even when he’s not supposed to). Maybe Severus trying to make Wolfsbane more accessible/cheaper? Or better yet, both him and Lily approach this like ethical scientists.

But on the other hand as a frequent consumer of Werewolf fiction I don’t really like how traditional and human-centric the version of Werewolves that JKR used in her ‘verse? Like, what is a werewolf like when they’re emotionally stable, feel secure, healthy? Why would they be hostile to humans in general? Why generalized feral hostility? Is it actually ingrained or a result of underlying mishandling of socialization/emotional-social support? Because obviously, Canon!James who turned into a freaking Stag didn’t get eaten so there must be something to the state of Lycanthropy. Is it a possibly segue into being a Skinwalker? Lost or suppressed information?

Would Lupin theoretically be able to keep his mind and not attack his friends or have the choice overall with better, calmer support?

Back to the AU, something that would keep Lily from drifting out of her friendship with Severus could be Remus? I’m remembering that whole, Remus Morality post thing you referenced a while back. And intense loyalty seems like a thing Remus could bring to the table? I’m not sure how else not being a Marauder would affect his personality though. Thoughts?

But since Sirius doesn’t have a Werewolf to Prank Severus with anymore I wonder what would happen then? Would it be more James or Sirius or Peter trying to snoop into where the three go during the full moon nearly every month? How would that spiral? Sev and Lily trying to close ranks around Remus, whom they don’t quite know if Dumbledore is willing to back that horse for too long compared to those with “higher” status like, James & Sirius?

Maybe a part of Sev’s radicalization that drove a spike between his and Remus’ friendship could be Severus trying to court Remus to the Dark Lord’s party? Because they were recruiting both poor and marginalized populations after all, also I *think* Remus is a pureblood technically? I forget. And Remus would’ve gotten so PISSED because he knows that would be condoning/supporting all the bad things people say about Lily, one of his only other very close friends, plus a bunch of other bad things that DEs are doing.

The friendship split between Lily and Severus would be longer, more protracted and hurtful, not just one big blowup and a final death knell slip of the tongue. But Lily and Remus trying to reel their friend back in on top of all their other baggage (they are destined, by social constructs and WW societal standards, for mediocrity, struggle and poverty after all) and Failing. And that hurts.

And when they all graduate, Lily shortly after joins the Order, or is invited because I guess they want skilled people, and Lily Was Exceptional. But she brings along Remus, who James, Sirius & Peter (and an 4th OC or something if we need to replace, but not really tbh) may distrust him because of the thing that happened when they followed? If James /actually/ changed (that Felix Felicis-enhanced talking thing) though he might be not be shitty about it though, but I can’t really imagine Sirius letting it go what with his terrible maladaptive coping mechanisms and all. Remus might get outed among the Order, maybe, idk. That could sow distrust of him, and why they don’t tell when they shove Lily and James into a cottage with their Bastard child together in hiding.

Then it goes like that from canon, Peter is made Secret Keeper, with Sirius as the obvious decoy keeper. Severus tries to curry favor from his grunt position as a DE and accidentally spells the death knell for his estranged friend Lily, is flipped when he finallyyyy realized he’d done super-fucked up and goes to Dumbledore.

Then James & Lily get attacked by Voldie & DEs, James takes a couple DEs down before dying via AK, Lily had been researching a bunch of dark/new magic things to protect herself and her kid (who she deliberated on and eventually decided to keep). She takes a bunch of DEs down, and gives Voldemort a run for his money, but lets down her guard when Peter shows up because up until this point, despite the bad blood in school, she’s known him as a comrade in the Order.

Peter basically cripples her in a surprise attack, and then Voldemort comes up to gloat, monologue and eventually finish the job. Lily spits in his face while dying.

The underlying new ritual/shield/magic-whatever Lily cooked up while in hiding goes on not quite as planned because it overlaps with Voldemort’s accidental-Horcrux making that basically ghostifies him. But Lily still dies the first time.

Cue Sirius getting falsely accused and Azkaban’d, Harry going to the Dursleys because supposed Blood Wards (which actually would be fine with just Harry himself and what he considers home I guess, maybe). Remus gets cut out of the picture because of his financial and career instability, also Werewolfism and other dumb prejudice, so he’s out of the loop and isn’t told about Sev being a flipped spy either.

Cue a few years later, turns out that Lily’s biodad is actually a Fae of some kind that she had minor contact with him through postcards and letters during her life. But eventually, he pitched in on some magical doohickery for the magical design stuff she did while in hiding in Godric’s Hollow. Then everything kicks off again a mostly Amnesiac FaeLily crawls out of her grave and gets a burning treewand branch of a Groot-Arm.

Somehow this culminates FaeLily accidentally getting the band back together and yoinking Harry. Then cue shenanigans and reconciliation and character development/interactions and possibly romantic Snupin and maybe an earned happy ending somewhere because my heart is soft and I’m a total weenie and this post got way longer than I thought it’d be lol. Overall thoughts? Impressions? Anything I missed while stringing these half-baked ideas together? X3

Thanks for reading and responding to so many of my posts. Your takes and posts are always a delight to read! <3333

Part2 of the AU Multi-fecta Thing I Sent Earlier

Some stuff I forgot:

-Tempted to name this Sweet Insane Combo of an AU: 2 Gryffindors and a Slytherin Walk into a Traincar

-Maybe add some shades of the Cons of Cokeworth AU idea (yes I sent that too, I’m literally a neverending fountain of AUs and theories for literally every fandom I get into, it’s a gift). –Lily constantly worries over money (Petunia’s biodad’s the gambler?) and is bitter over the way society is structured, leading her to grow into an excellent, Hard-working Con & Swindler-of-those-that-deserve-it (like how she’s been fleecing James, Sirius, Peter and others for all 7 of her Hogwarts years while trying to maintain good PR without being known as a money grubber or a thief bc Anonymity is Key)

-TBH i feel like she’d just cook up a plan to live with her 2 friends after school because “it’s cheaper” and she figures that they could’ve kept up the Werewolf research stuff easier by being housemates, but hilariously and sadly forgetting to tell said 2 friends about her plans before starting to work her ass off to scrape up as much money as possible. –“We all know Rems would guilt himself into living like a fucking hobo, and Cokeworth is a place where dreams go to die, so of course we’re getting a fucking house.”

-Yanno, then the AU-version of the Friendship split and Voldemort faction gains even more traction with the 1st WW Civil War going on.

-Trawling through the wiki again, Remus’ parents basically isolated him a pretty unhealthy amount I feel (like they probably thought they were doing the right thing at the time, which solved an immediate problem, but ends up compounding into a long-term host of issues)? Which I don’t think did Lupin’s socialization and emotional stabilitygrowth sloshing down into his Werewolf form any favors perhaps?

-So basically Remus refused to move back in with his dad (because he didn’t want to burden his dad I guess), despite him being alive, so Remus living in poverty-plus probably in and out of homelessess as well as the medical and security complications of being a werewolf without access to necessary resources? Also okay I forgot that Remus was a Halfblood too, whoops

-There’s an Irony in that Severus is the most human (species-wise) between the 3 AU Friends, what with Werewolf!Remus and Post-Resurrection Fae!Lily

-There’d be a whole mystery as to the intentions of Lily’s mysterious Fae Parent father(?), which may or may not be good intentions, they just don’t really know atm

…Okay I think that’s it… Whew, thoughts?

X'3

Nice to finally meet you @markala5

ok wow this is a lot. first of all i love it and it feels whole so i don’t know what i can say. it’s the found family trope subverted a little because things fall apart but they get back together when lily is resurrected. and voldemort and his death eaters get to be the big bad. plus dumbledore as the leader of the order who is starting to realise that harry needs to end voldemort and his horcruxes but lily can’t imagine letting her child do that because she’s grown to love him after forgetting him so instead of the golden trio, it’s lily, severus and remus finding the horcruxes but harry needs to die and the three of them are frantically researching a solution but it needs to happen. they send him off in a manner similar to canon except they’re alive and later they see harry’s body and he’s so small and it’s so heartbreaking until he runs from the death eaters.

this au has so much potential

#severus snape #pro snape #remus lupin #lily evans #submission #headcanons #au

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lord-dusk · 5 years

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Jurassic Emblem-Chapter 8

Guess who came home?? :3

Commander Anna, the general of Askr’s military commandment, had summoned the raptors and some of the other Heroes in the meeting room. She was discussing some very serious issues happening around Askr, most notably, the changes to the entire ecosystem done by what the scouts can only describe as “aberrant forms”. Anna was collecting herself, and she listed so far the aberrant forms identified:

Basilice.

Sobek and Gorgonorhea.

Henoka.

Styracostegas.

Emmatross.

One of the effects that Anna had said was already happening was the fact somewhere up in Nifl, the sun-god Helios was frozen solid by a “giant icicle-covered serpent.” Blue snarled. Unlike the medieval warriors she was with, Blue and her sisters knew that these aberrant forms were heinous-hybrids created by the controversial Henry Wu, and she needed to destroy them quickly. Her life was already fried by those red-eyed mangled-tooth fatherf**kers and she didn’t want anyone else to suffer the same fate.

And coincidentally, outside the meeting room, Askr’s summoner and tactician Kiran shrieked out a macaw-style gasp. Lucina and the raptors rushed out.

And there, above the groveling,thirsty, pathetic form of Kiran, was a goddess in a pelagic-blue yukata, waving her shark-like crocodilian tail in patience like some Hoshidan deity. Blue didn’t had to blink her eyes to find out who that woman was.

It was the Island Goddess Ryukami, the mosasaurus who not only protected Nublar(before she swam out into the open sea), she was also the heroine that leapt out of her lagoon, pulled the Indominus rex into the water, and devoured her like a roast chicken.

.“Hunh. I was quite busy tearing apart a Chinese shark-finning vessel and I was just about to swallow the last fisherman when you pulled me to this strange dimension,” Ryukami said. “Tell me, human. What reason do you have for interrupting my meal?”

Kiran formed his words meekly. “P-please....Please...H-help me l-land....Vel-velouria and....and....Leanne....”.

Ryukami ignored him. She fixed her gaze on Blue, Lucina, Echo, Delta, and Charlie.

“Hmm. Oh. Hello, little lizards.” the crocodilian whale greeted. “I didn’t expect to see you girls. Especially to you, blue one-” she paused. “Wait, wasn’t there only one raptor left on Nublar? Particularly a charcoal one with a blue stripe?

Blue smiled.”It’s okay Ryu. I think I can explain things along-”

“Oh wow! It’s Ryukami from the Mosasaurus Feeding Show! Look at those sharp teeth of yours! Can i have your autograph?”

For the first time in 80 million years, a velociraptor has tackled a mosasaur. Specifically, Charlie had sprung unto Ryukami, face pressed against the goddess’s chest, and shaking her hands.

“Well, dear child, do you have anything I can sign my name on?”

Charlie brought out her Nintendo Switch. “Sure! You can sign on the back!”

*********

When the meeting had ended and the raptors explain the situation to Ryukami, the mosasaur agreed to ferry them to the icy isle of Nifl. But they were some hurdles to overcome.

First was Teba and Warbler. After the incident in which the two criminals attempted to run-off with the frozen embryos, they were thrown in the cellar awaiting judgement. Lucina and Blue had some very powerful urges to mangle the already injured mercenaries, but Anna wouldn’t allow it presently and declared that Teba and Warbler shall not be executed until they scrutinize the morals of the formers’ agenda. Besides, no one exactly knew how to deal with dilophosaur that spat venom out of its beak and an amphibian with katana-sharp dorsal spines. And as such, as much they’d like to accompany Blue and Lucina on their mission, Echo, Delta, and Charlie decided to stay watch and monitor the samurai and the drunk dilo.

“If they pull something I’m going to tear them apart bit by bloody, bony bit!” Echo cracked her claws in anticipation.

“When Askr finds out what these belligerent iguanas are really up to, then yes.” Delta replied.

“Um, I understand I am in no position to ask, but may I have some water?” Teba requested from within the cell. Warbler lay at the back corner, dozing off.

“You just answered your own question Pouter-Flounder,” Charlie answered back. “it’s called drinking pee.”

And second, as much of a kind reptile Ryukami was, a deity didn’t grant a wish for free. If you wanted a god to grant your wishes you had to offer up a payment.

And by payment, I mean a person or several to sacrifice to the mosasaur.

Initially, Lucina tried to process everything down. Sacrificing people to the dragon-gods can’t be good, she thought, until she considered that in order to obtain the “Good Ending” in Awakening, the Shepherds chopped up and raped, and devoured every last denizen in Plegia. After all, humans, both good and bad, loved to end chaos by BRINGING FORTH chaos. A negative factor multiplied by a negative factor always lead to a positive. Therefore, Lucina decided to sacrifice Henry and Tharja, as well as male Robin to Ryukami.

“Aaaaaaaah, this is the happiest day of my life!” Henry chirped as the mosasaurus crunched downed on his ribs and slurped up his intestines like sausage pasta.

As an added bonus, Ryukami had blessed both Lucina and Blue with water-magic, which not only increased their vitality and endurance, it also allowed them to convert the surrounding water into atmospheric air in case shit happens and the two raptors find themselves 30 meters below the surface.

“The trip to Nifl will take about a two or three days by me so you ought to be thankful for my gifts,” Ryukami said. “Now, is everyone ready?”

********

The night sky was a deep-blue color, a gorgeous complement to the turquoise waters. The air was cool and kind to the skin, which would have been perfect for relaxation.

But there was no time for relaxation. For the past several days(or lacking thereof) there was no sunlight. As Helios the sun-god was turned into a kakigori, an icy cold night was spreading from Nifl to Askr, placing photosynthetic activity in jeopardy.

Blue and Lucina were perched on Ryukami’s head and hand, respectively. When asked why she couldn’t have simply used her Dragonstone to morph into her crocodilian-whale form, Ryukami claimed she had left it at the bottom of Dragon’s Reef.

Even gods have accidents, I suppose, Blue thought.

Lucina broke the silence. “Hey Sole Survivor, have you killed your own parent?”

Blue perked her head.”......Why do you ask?”

“I know I had to kill my previous mother in order to save my father and country. What about you?”

“That’s a very morbid question Future Witness. Were you part of the tiger-raptor tribe on Site B? Did you cannibalize your own sibling as well? To answer your question though, I did not. But that’s not to say I didn’t put Papa and his friends’ lives in danger multiple times.”

“I nearly killed my father as well-in fact, the world where I’m from, I had to detonate my re-animated father like the walking flesh-grenade he was.”

“You know, if I died, my ghost would be more than happy to tell my daughters to eat my body,” Ryukami joined in. “There will be times when children will literally want a part of their parents-at least physically.”

“Well, my ex-mother’s flesh tasted rather like lobster and centipede mixed with sperm-covered pants,” Lucina said.

“Okay Future Witness, can we talk about something else? We already had a chapter dedicated to your hobbies.” Blue remarked.

“Alright,” Lucina answered. “I’ve always wanted to ask you this anyway. What is your papa like? I’ll take note if there is a slight,slight,slight chance I’ll meet him.”

“A nice guy. A bit of a jerk who only goes by his own rules, drinks beer, and lives in the most beautiful shack on the outskirts of the jungle. But as someone who’s raised me and my sisters ever since we were hatchlings,he is the best person in my entire world, so much so I’ll slice up security guards for him.”

“I see.”

Just then Ryukami had stopped at a large ice-floe. “We’re here.” Ryukami announced.

#jurassic emblem #fire emblem heroes #jurassic world #blue #lucina #blucina #raptor squad #ryukami #mosasaurus #mosasaurus wife #fanfiction #fire emblem

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gold-from-straw · 5 years

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Everything That Happens - ch7

Ok, so, on the plus side, there's a 'Harry helps save Draco from retaliation' trope in here, but on the DOWN side the time travel stuff is NOT going well for Harry. Please be warned there is reference to non-canon character death in the end of this chapter.

Honestly it's all downhill from here, kids, I'm sorry, please ask and I will provide spoilers if needed...

Read on AO3 from the beginning if you like!

“Harry? Harry, are you in--” Hermione flung open the curtains around Harry’s bed and froze. “What are you doing?”

Harry looked up, his quill between his teeth, his wand behind his ear, and scraps of parchment covering his bed. “Uh… trying to work something out?” he said, spitting out his quill.

She snatched up the parchment, her frown deepening as she read. “‘Evacuation of juniors, Fiendfyre, Shrieking Shack… Fred…’ Harry, are these… events of the battle?”

“Uh, yeah.”

She looked miserable. “This isn’t healthy, Harry. This is what you’ve been completely fixated on? You’ve been writing on that parchment for weeks, and now… you missed breakfast again, and you’re going to be late for class. Why are you doing this?”

Harry bit his lip. “What if… what if I could find a way to save them?” he asked. “Tonks, Lupin, Fred -- all of them.” He looked up at her, imploring, but he seemed to have just made it worse, her eyes filling with tears.

“You can’t save everyone,” she said. “You did so much, Harry, you sacrificed your life to save people. Don’t you think you can rest now?”

“But if I can save someone,” he said, “don’t you think I should?”

She closed her eyes, like the conversation physically hurt, and he felt abashed at once. He wasn’t the only one who’d sacrificed things. She’d sacrificed her own parents for the war, after all - yes, she had them back now, just like Harry had his life back, but she must be exhausted. Harry gathered up all his notes and shoved them in a drawer before standing and hugging her. “Sorry, Hermione,” he said. “I’ll leave it.”

She pulled back and blinked at him in surprise. “You… you will? Uh… OK. OK. Well, come on then, you’ll miss Charms if you don’t hurry.”

“I’ll be right there,” he promised, hunting out his tie and book bag.

She smiled and turned to leave. “Thank you, Harry,” she said, turning just before the door and nodding, and his heart broke with how many times he’d dragged her along - hunting horcruxes; wild goose chases to the Ministry in fifth year that ended in tragedy; even down into the basements of the school in first year. He smiled back at her through his shame as she ran out.

He was still getting his robes untangled from his bag as he walked quickly to class, when he heard Hermione yelling up ahead.

“Stop! Stop it! What do you think you’re doing, stop it!”

His heart pounding, he raced towards her voice, skidding down the corridor. Hermione had her wand out, pointed at a pair of fifth years.

“He’s a Death Eater!” shouted one, gesturing at a heap of robes on the floor. Harry sped up when he saw it moving slowly. “He doesn’t deserve to be here,” the boy yelled again, aiming a kick.

“Impedimenta!” yelled Harry, before the foot had a chance to connect. He skidded to a halt beside the robes on the floor and pulled black cloth away from white hair and a bloody face. “Malfoy. Malfoy, can you hear me?”

Malfoy grunted and nodded, pushing himself into a sitting position. Harry tucked one arm around his shoulders to help him.

Hermione turned back to the boys, her voice furious. “The war is over,” she raged. “Stop trying to bring it back with your petty hypocrisy!”

“He’s Death Eater scum,” spat the first boy, starting towards Malfoy again. His friend held him back. Malfoy didn’t even flinch; he just sat, empty and resigned.

“You’re the scum for taking out your anger on someone who posed no threat to you,” Hermione raged. “Is that what people fought for? What people died for? So you could go around bullying other students?”

“Malfoy helped us,” Harry said, glaring up at the boys. “The three of us were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor… he could have said it was us when he saw us, but he didn’t. He lied to Bellatrix Lestrange and we were able to escape. So leave him alone - and leave the other Slytherins alone, too. Save your curses for someone who’s actually doing harm.”

He carried on glaring until the boys grumbled and backed off, storming down the corridor under their own black clouds.

Hermione bent down in front of Malfoy. “Are you OK?”

“Fine,” he muttered dully, his face still turned away.

“Hmm. Your nose looks broken,” she said. “You should go to the hospital wing.” Harry was always amazed at how much authority Hermione could put into her words when she was so used to Harry and Ron ignoring her sensible instructions.

Malfoy nodded and struggled to his feet, clutching at his ribs as he went. “I’ll take him,” said Harry.

Hermione nodded. “See you in…” She glanced at her watch. “Well, whatever class you do get to,” she sighed, and walked off.

Malfoy turned and started walking as soon as she was out of sight. “That’s not the way to the hospital wing,” Harry smirked, tugging on his robes.

“Why?” said Malfoy, stopping. Harry looked at him; his face was still turned away. “Why stop them? Why… lie like that?”

“I didn’t lie,” said Harry. “I know you recognised me that night. You saved me.”

Malfoy shuddered. “I didn’t… I was a coward. I’ve always been a coward.”

Harry took his arm and tugged at him gently until he walked. After a few steps, he looked up at Harry, his eyes haunted. “It doesn’t make up for what I did. Not even remotely.”

“I nearly killed you,” said Harry. “What can ever make up for that?”

They walked the rest of the way to the hospital wing in silence.

He couldn’t go back to face the Fiendfyre. He just couldn’t. But he couldn’t afford to stop it from happening, not when it had destroyed a Horcrux.

The trouble was, there was too little time between the escape from the Room of Hidden Things, and the massive curse that had killed Fred Weasley. But at least he knew where Fred had been. After three terrifying trips onto the Hogwarts grounds before the Shrieking Shack, and one attempt to get close to Remus in the Great Hall, Harry had decided to tackle Fred, at least until he’d got some new ideas.

The first time, he’d opened his mouth and yelled for them to move back. The blast had knocked him back into his own time, and hadn’t changed a thing. He spent the next half hour fiercely scrubbing tears off his face, the memories of Fred’s death now clear and aching all over again.

The next time, he tried telling them to avoid that corridor. It hadn’t worked. Sifting through new, slightly different memories on his return, all he saw was that they’d been forced into place by the battle itself, not by choice, and the horrified look Percy had given him when he realised Harry had predicted his brother’s death was so unbearable that Harry went straight back to undo it.

Finally, he focused on the moment Pius Thicknesse fell to the floor. The moment Percy Weasley told a joke, Harry grabbed Fred’s arm and braced himself, hurtled through the air, clutching his wand and Fred Weasley.

He woke again, gasping, panicking, shocked at the lack of pain back in his own, safe time. Grasped for the memories… to find that he’d killed Percy Weasley instead.

#My writing #Everything That Happens (Is From Now On)#Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #drarry #hurt/comfort #angst #HEAVY ANGST #blood #violence #character death

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necromaniackat · 5 years

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Finders Keepers

Chapter 3: Get Your Wands Ready

I don’t know how but Mackyla managed to drag me to Hogsmeade with Ella to go dress shopping. I’ve been friends with Mac for six years and to this day I have no idea how she manages to pull me into doing things I’m not keen on doing. It’s been this way ever since our first year when she managed to convince me to sneak to Hogsmeade after curfew to meet some of her Hogwarts friends. Of course, her friends were a bit older than us and she snogged a third-year boy most of the time while I was on edge about being out so late with the notorious Sirius Black on the loose and being spotted in in Dufftown. He’s not high on the list of threats since He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named came back. Therefore, I always carry my wand in the sleeve of my coat or robes, even when I sleep. I refuse to be caught off guard by anything or anyone.

The snowy walk to Hogsmeade was filled with Mac kicking snow balls until they exploded back into snowflakes while Ella skipped through the ankle high snow. I lingered behind them with my hands shoved into the pockets of my coat. The cold wind bit at my cheeks and ears. I wish I had my hat to cover my head, but Ella gave it to a house elf to free him. I don’t mind that she didn’t ask first, it was for a good cause.

“Eliese! What kind of person are you?! Come play in the snow!” Ella exclaimed, finally standing still in the snow. I shook my head at my dear friend and grinned. Ella acts as if the snow won’t be here tomorrow and the days after until the weather starts getting warmer and the sun comes out to stay.

“I’m the kind of person who wants their hat back from that house elf!” I shouted back at her with a smile. Ella grinned back at me, walking backwards. But all the fun and games came to an end on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. My blood began to boil, and my face reddened with anger. There is one word I despise above all rest of the horrible words the fill peoples’ vocabularies and it was clear as day being put out there for all to hear. It made me look at my sunflower friend, Mac. Her face was as white as snow and she wore a distant look in her pretty blue eyes.

“What are you doing here, mud blood?” Kaitlyn Murphy demanded as the mouth of the village. She was talking to Mac, but Ella stepped in. I could only stand there and stare wide eyed at the group of Seamus house girls standing with Kaitlyn. I couldn’t believe they were doing this in Hogsmeade, but these are their taunting grounds. But it looks like they’re waiting for someone and we just so happened to have stumbled upon them and their unnecessary commentary.

“She has every right to be here just like the rest of us.” Ella bravely claimed with an expression made of stone. Ella was a ditzy and bubbly but when people she cares for are attacked, she refuses to stand aside and let it happen. Ella is the first one in, last one out type of person. I admire that about her. I nodded in agreement. Kaitlyn gave a snarled half smile as if she knew something we didn’t before her body language changed to defensive.

“For now.” Kaitlyn commented coldly. Kaitlyn Murphy has tormented almost every girl in our year for one reason or another. Her prime targets are the muggle born girls, most likely Mackyla. She’s been doing this since the first train ride to Hogsmeade Station our first year. She found out Mackyla was muggle born and decided to humiliate her on the train in front of our peers. That’s actually how we became friends, I stepped in and helped Mac get away from them and their rude comments. Kaitlyn isn’t afraid to use the term mud blood and show where she stands with muggle born wizards and witches in the magical community.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I piped up in a curious tone. Kaitlyn’s head snapped in my direction and a wicked smile curled at her lips. It made me slide my wand into my hand and grip it tight, ready to fight if need be.

“Times are changing. Things are going to be very different around here soon.” Kaitlyn replied in a threatening tone that made a chill crawl up my spine. The group of girls disbanded from the entrance of Hogsmeade silently, leaving the three of us standing there unsure of what to make of Kaitlyn’s response. Usually it’s hard to take her seriously because she isn’t the smartest witch but for some reason the ominous tone of her voice made things very serious. Kaitlyn is known to agree that only pure blood should be given magical education while muggles and half-bloods, and muggle born wizards and witches are treated like second class citizens.

Without much thought I hooked my arm around Mac and pulled her into the safety of Hogsmeade, trying to escape that moment by leaving the mouth of the village. Ella followed closely behind. I felt terrible for Mackyla, she doesn’t know her parents, so she doesn’t know if she’s pure blood or not. But people assume she’s part muggle because she grew up in the muggle world. As if being muggle born is a crime. It’s not, people don’t decide who their parents are so why are they being punished for it? Mackyla has never let being muggle born stop her from being an intelligent, kind, hard working person. But Ella and I can see the names get to her.

“So, dress shopping, eh? Where are we going?” I directed everyone’s attention away from the scene that just unfolded. Mackyla looked at me with a small smile nudging at the corners of her mouth.

“The Witch’s Closet. They’re having a Yule sale.” Mac said in a light tone of voice. She seemed to have moved past the whole incident.

Ella rejoined the two of us, hooking her arm around Mac as well. We walked down the snow main street. I remember our first official visit to Hogsmeade back in third year when we were actually allowed to go to Hogsmeade but that didn’t stop my two friends from dragging me there dozens of times before we were permitted to actually go. My aunty started working at the post office in Hogsmeade during my third year, so I’d go visit her sometimes. I enjoyed going to see the Shrieking Shack. Mac and Ella didn’t think it was that cool, even though I did.

My dad almost didn’t sign the permission slip for me to go. He doesn’t like me being on my own in the first place and then Cedric Diggory died and now the Dark Lord is back, my dad nearly had a stroke when I began to pack for school again. He didn’t want me to come back to school this year, but he knows how much my education means to me. I reassured him that I can handle myself.

“So, what type of dress are you looking for ‘Liese?” Mackyla asked curiously, looking at me over the racks of dresses. I nosed through the rack of pretty formal dresses, my eyes moved up to see the sheer concentration on her face. I shrugged slightly.

“I don’t know.” I sighed. Professor Fitzgerald told me my attitude towards the Yule Ball better changed otherwise I’ll be sitting in detention with her for a month. I still don’t want to go but I’m putting an effort to appear pleasant at the Yule Ball.

“Oh! Oh! Try this one!” Ella exclaimed, bounding towards me with a dress at hand. Mackyla and I looked at her as she handed me a lovely grey-silver dress.

“Is it my size?” I asked sheepishly.

“Who cares?! Try it on!” Ella cheered, shoving the dress into my chest then directed me to the dressing room. She pushed me into the booth then ripped the curtain closed. I huffed at her excitement, brushing my hair bushing my ear. I peeled off the warm clothes so I could try on the dress. The dress was made of silver silk that was floor length with a sweet heart neckline but a silvery white lace covering the cleavage area.

I sighed at the sight of me in the dress. It fit me well and it was something I’d wear. I stepped out of the dressing room to show my friends. They both stared at me wide eyed, their jaws were dropped. I suddenly felt very awkward standing there.

“So?” I wanted to know their honest opinion on how I looked. I didn’t care too much how I looked to other people, but I do care about my friends and what they think. And by the looks of it, they liked the dress.

“I never knew you could look so elegant but at the same time look so, you.” Mac commented with a smile. Mac always tells me I look like a plain Jane but with a little elbow grease I’d look stunning. Mac and Ella began to shower me with compliments when the bell over the door rang and my attention was caught by abnormally blond hair, it was the boy from class. His almost silver-blue eyes found me immediately. I could swear I knew him from somewhere besides class, but I don’t remember where. A sinking feeling overcame me when Kaitlyn came leaping into the store behind him, immediately latching onto his arm. And there goes any respect I had for him.

The moment Kaitlyn saw us a look of pure disgust distorted her face.

“What are you lot doing here?” She demanded coldly, still holding close the blond boy. I rolled my eyes at her demand. As if it couldn’t be more obvious. I mean, I’m totally not standing here in a dress with my friends, who’s arms are full of potential dresses.

“Dress shopping for the Yule Ball, that’s what we’re doing here.” I remarked the obvious, stepping forward to meet her eye to eye. I’ve never been afraid of Kaitlyn. She wants control over people.

“It’s bad enough mud bloods are allowed at St Therese, but now they’re allowed to attend our social gatherings.” Kaitlyn sneered at Mac once again. I narrowed my eyes at her.

“I swear, if you call my friend that one more time,”

“You’ll what? Or else what?” Kaitlyn taunted mercilessly.

“You’ll be sorry.” I added in a low voice. I was being dead serious, if she kept using that word, I was going to act against her. I’ve never been afraid of her and I never will be.

In one swift movement Kaitlyn drew her wand from out of nowhere. My instincts kicked in and I summoned my wand from the sleeve of my coat. It appeared in my hand at the speed of light. I stood in a defensive position, ready for the fight of my life.

“No. You’ll be sorry.” She retorted with her wand pointed at me. And I pointed mine at her. The blond haired boy silently sneered at the scene unfolding.

“Oi!” A woman’s voice cut through the tension, causing all of us to look at the red haired shop keeper.

“No magic outside of school! Wands away!” Without much of a second thought, my wand lowered down to my side. I was mildly disappointed that we didn’t get to duel. Kaitlyn believes she’s better at everything than me. But our grades say otherwise.

“Right, let’s go to a different store seeing as the filthy mud blood has touched everything.” Kaitlyn growled before turning on her heel to leave. The blond haired boy followed close behind as they left the store. I felt my entire body relax in their absence. I put my wand back in my coat, realizing Mac had her hand hovering over the pocket of her long coat. She was ready to fight just like I was.

“Good idea putting the accio charm on your wand.” Ella lightly said after a moment of silence. Mac nodded hastily. Mac and Ella both seemed surprised by the fact that I put an accio charm on my wand so I can summon it whenever. I can do wandless magic and have been able to since second year.

“You guys don’t have to keep defending me.” Mac said sullenly for the billionth time. I wonder if she knows that we know that we don’t have to defend her, we want to. If you don’t fight for what’s right every time, then you don’t fight for what’s right. I know Mac doesn’t like being called names and I don’t like it either. One of the rules at St Therese is there is zero tolerance for bullying so most of the bullying happens off the school grounds. Somehow people find a way to do anything they want.

“Yes, we do. It’s the right thing to do.” Ella spoke gently, putting her hand on Mac’s shoulder. Mac smiled and nuzzled Ella’s hand slightly.

“Besides, it’s fun seeing Kaitlyn fume with rage because she can’t control us.” Ella added with a devilish smirk, causing both me and Mac to laugh.

“But really, ‘Liese, you need to get this dress.” Mac told me with a great big smile. I smiled back at my best friend. I’ve always adored how fast Mac can bounce back from these things. I know the bullying get to her and it gets to me too, but Mac has this way of being able to carry on despite it all. Mac gets the blunt of it, but Ella and I get bullied too. My dad being in the muggle world and all, I get picked on and called a mud blood even though I’m a pure blood.

#dracomalfoy #draco malfoy #draco imagine #harry potter #harry potter and the half blood prince #writing #writer #writers #My writing #wattpad #hogwartsschoolofwitchcraftandwizardry #hogwarts #hogsmeade #Magic #wizard #witch #fanfiction #fan fiction

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mylatinlinernote · 6 years

Text

Unwanted Honours: Severus as Godfather. Part 4 with epilogues

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

-In that hellish year that followed after Albus’ death, Delphini was a surprising bright spot for Severus.

-Visiting Delphini offered the rare opportunity to, albeit briefly, relax. He would attribute it to being a kind of respite from the seething hate directed at him each day by colleagues he had once thought were friends. Which was partly true.

-Severus would never admit the thrill he felt when Delphini smiled at him, gurgled at him, curl into his arms. It made him ponder his childhood and whether his own father or godfather ever felt this way and what happened that twisted the hearts of his parents so that they could never utter a kind word to him or each other. As the tiniest of fingers grasped onto the folds of his cloak he did his best to banish the past and hold the child a little closer.

-Never in his life did he think he’d covet something of Bellatrix’s.

-Despite these small moments of warmth, he couldn’t ignore the cold fear for what lay ahead for this child regardless of which side won. Maybe he too would end up in Azakaban for 13 years with outlandish dreams of godfather/goddaughter adventures only to have a brief but neutered freedom before being bested by a curtain.

- It was enough to almost make him lose his conviction in Dumbledore’s plan. Almost.

-According to Narcissa, neither Bellatrix nor Voldemort spent much, if any time with the child. Nor was Narcissa or the other Malfoy’s allowed anywhere near the nursery which was located in their own house. Care was left to the house elves and Severus may likely be the only human face or voice the infant would see for days or even weeks.

-Severus knew what an unloved, unadored child could turn into, be treated by others but as the month of May drew closer and all signs pointed to Potter making his way closer and closer to the castle, Severus knew he had to consider the likelihood of his own end.

-His plans, up to this point, always included retrieving Delphini from Malfoy manor and fleeing Britain, maybe even the continent entirely. He could try to live without magic again, but he wouldn’t dare deprive Delphini of her gifts the way he own father had tried.

-Severus was loathed to admit that although Delphini was overlooked by her own father, she would certainly be protected by whichever followers remain. Potter survived thus far despite an inauspicious start with muggles in a closet under the stairs. Delphini would surely fair better as Riddle saw to it that no muggle relations remained living who would deny the child her birthright.

-As he laid dying in the shrieking shack, he fought desperately to hold back the ferocious flow of memories that were escaping from every orifice as he wanted to die with something to hold onto for comfort. While his memories of Lily ebbed away to nothingness, his thoughts of Delphini remained clear and loud and in his final panicked moments, he wanted Potter to know that she existed and that she needed protection. However, the world went to black once he had asked Potter to look at him.

Epilogue (Cursed Child – the AU where Harry died)

-Upon hearing the news of Severus receiving the Dementor’s kiss, the Augury flew into an inconsolable fury for days. She refused to believe that her beloved Godfather would betray her and conspire with two of the most wanted fugitives in the wizarding world.

-By the time she came to her senses, the Augury had killed Umbridge, Malfoy, and 20 other witches and wizards in a very bloody and public purge.

Epilogue (Cursed Child – the main plot)

-Severus this, Severus that; whomever this Severus was, he was all Lestrange could talk about.

-Delphini surveyed the dark, yet busy pub he had apparated them too. A recent escapee from Azakaban, her companion appeared at the Rowle’s cottage one day with promises of revealing her true lineage and helping her reach her true potential, if she were to hide him and procure a month’s supply of Polyjuice potion.

-Delphini had met her end of the bargain but was wondering whether she was being made a fool of as the man continued to drink using the galleons she had stolen from her foster mother.

-She made a motion to leave when Lestrange grabbed her arm and forced her back into the booth they were sitting in. The establishment they were in was the sort where rough treatment of women was not a concern of the patrons.

-He fumbled through a pocket in his robes and pulled out an old photo, jabbing his finger violently in the tiny faces as if they had personally insulted him.

“Tha’s yer mother, my late wife Bellatrix. The dark lord’s most faithful servant. Tha’s the Dark Lord, Voldemort. He’s your father. The greatest wizard to ever exist and that…” driving his nail into the nose of the photographed man “… is the mudblood-loving, half-blood scum traitor who helped kill them.”

-Delphini had a fleeting feeling of disappointment. She had thought that maybe her parents were the woman with the white blond hair (who’s features she closely resembled) and the tall man with the hooked nose (who was actually holding a baby) instead of the haughty, disinterested, yet wild-looking brunette and the nose-less man who was more snake than human. Her disappointment turned to pride as Lestrange of the powerful magic her parents were capable of.

-“o’ course…” he belched “ I’ll give ol’ Snape credit, he was a damn better occlumens than the dark lord was a legimens. Don’t know how he got away with it for so long but the dark lord must’a caught him out in the end”. Delphini looked up from the picture, where the man with the hooked nose could be seen readjusting the swaddling blankets. “Nasty snake bite to the neck they say. Bled out before the venom could get him. Easy way out for a traitor like him but it’s not for me to disparage the Lord’s methods”.

-Delphini nodded slowly as her eyes returned to the photograph; The man with the hooked nose looked around him and appeared to give Delphini a small, but pained smile. A flash bulb memory of a soft darkness, a low voice, and the smell of sandalwood and juniper hit Delphini’s mind.

-“May I keep this?” She asked.

Epilogue (a happy-ish, AU ending)

-The sounds of footprints were fading away as Severus’ vision returned, grey and blurry. He tried to yell, to move but could only shift his arms slightly as the felt like they weighed tons. He contemplated to just submit to his fate and die but his final thoughts of Delphini replayed in his mind’s eye with vivid technicolour. If he could get the bezoar out of his pocket, then he might be able to regain some motion and impede the effects of the venom on his body’s healing.

- He was found by Aberforth, who had spied Voldemort and Severus apparating into the shack. Aberforth was a most reluctant nursemaid and left Severus to his own devices for most of his recovery. Aberforth also had a cruel sense of humour, placing Severus inside the same room he spied on nearly two decades earlier.

- After months of hiding in the Hog’s Head, Severus had long overstayed his welcome. While the colour returned to his vision, he needed glasses to deal with the blurriness. Significant nerve damage meant he walked with a limp and his left arm was barely functional.

-However, Aberforth was dropping clear hints that he wanted Severus to move out as he was a non-paying customer and there was profits to be made, what with the influx of tradeswizards coming in to help with the rebuilding of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade as well as the tourists who came to gawk at the tragedy.

-Severus had been presumed dead, burnt to ashes in the blaze that took out the shrieking shack. He still had his wand but didn’t want to arouse suspicion. He took the long way to Malfoy Manor, a combination of hitchhiking and using the funds Aberforth gave the former potions master to motivate him to vacate the village.

- He watched the Manor from afar for two days. The place was crawling with what little aurors were left. He was about to reveal himself to Narcissa when Dawlish had come by the relieve himself in the bushes during a perimeter check. Before being oblivated, Dawlish revealed that there was no infant present in the mansion despite evidence that the nursery had been recently used.

- At a loss, Severus eventually returned to Cokeworth a place so insignificant that despite its most infamous inhabitant, it was too much of a muggle dung heap for anyone to investigate. When he was able to get his hands on a copy of the Daily Prophet or the Quibbler, he gradually worked through the names of potential families whom may have given shelter to Delphini.

-it was almost a year after the battle of Hogwarts when he found her in the home of the Rowle’s. Severus wagered that if he took her, the Rowle’s wouldn’t do much about it for even if they did report the child was missing, a simple spell would reveal her true parentage and bring further dishonour to them.

-Delphini was older, toddling about, but had the appearance of a child who was not cared for. Severus did not think she would remember him but was none the less surprised when he was able to scoop her up from the garden without a sound of protest.

-He was Severus Snape: Most loyal deatheater, killer of Dumbledore, the most hated headmaster, and now kidnapper.

-Staying in England wasn’t an option nor was resuming his identity as Severus Snape.

-First, there was a couple of months in Morocco working for a wizarding cartel that trafficked forged artworks. Severus, or Hesperus as he was known, garnered a lot of sympathy as a recent widower while Delphini, now Daphne, was the delight of the workshop. Their time was cut short when a raid funded by Gringott’s meant a very close call by Bill Weasley.

-There was a year spent in the abandoned summer apartments of Igor Karkaroff in Bavaria. Dephini was a clever child having not only learned how to read but also to levitate her books. Severus made potions for the black market and made a comfortable profit from it. That is until village gossip got to him that the local wizarding government was cooperating with the Ministry of Magic as part of a clean sweep of Voldemort supporters on the continent.

-There were pockets of time spent in Italy, and parts of Asia. Each move occuring after Severus thinks he spies Potter, Longbottom, or Weasley lurking about. It takes literally bumping into Longbottom before Severus decided that it was finally time to try to make their way to America. They ended up in Salem but lived more amongst the muggles than amidst the magical community.

- He raised Delphini well. Despite the instability of her early childhood, Delphini had grown up into a lovely and confident young woman, albeit one who wielded considerable capabilities with the dark arts and could pass for the fourth Black sister.

-Severus knew what would happen if her thirst for forbidden knowledge was stifled too harshly or quenched by forces eager to destroy the world. He provided structure, safety, and expertise as well as boundaries and a gentle nudging away from texts and spells that were not appropriate for witches who weren’t of age.

- He had always spoken evenly of Delphini’s origins; who her real parents were and why he did what he did. He showed her a photograph from one of the gatherings, pointing out bellatrix, Voldemort, well as Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco.

-It was during one of these talks that Severus discovered that Delphini was a natural occlumens. Delphini’s face was also unreadable.

- Delphini, as Daphne, attended the Salem Institute as a private student. She became validictorian, on the honour society, and won awards across several fields of magic in America and abroad. She truly loved her Godfather but she had more questions about her parents than he was willing to answer. Despite his strong misgivings, Severus conceded to Delphini going abroad - Lucius and Narcissa had died prematurely and Draco, from all reports, had matured considerably.

-At the same time, across the ocean, Rodolphus Lestrange escaped Azkaban. He discovered the decades long betrayal of the Rowe’s and massacred the remaining members for losing Delphini so carelessly. As he walked amongst the carnage, he spied a section of the Daily Prophet with a sizable photo of Daphne and first place trophy from the International Potions Competition.

#snape #severussnape #severus snape #delphini riddle #harry potter

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cvrsedink · 6 years

Text

A Bellatrix Lestrange One-Shot

*It’s been a very long time since I’ve occupied her head space, so she is a bit rusty. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Dreams turned into nightmares every time she shut her eyes. The sounds of low moans and cries for help filled her ears as if she were still there, chained to the salty stones in her cell, starving, weak, and alone. Only when the waves crashed against the sides of the towering prison were their voices drowned out, smothered by the angry water that surrounded Azkaban. Nature seemed to feed off the wizard-made island; the ocean groaned and clouds permanently darkened the sky, threatening to strike them all down at any given time. But even this scene was not privy to her. The small sliver of a window stood opposite of her confinement, just out of reach and tauntingly promising a freedom she could not have. Day and night she stared through this gap, unable to tear herself away from the past, as the screams of prisoners confused themselves with those entirely in her head.

The faces of her sisters swam before her eyes, frozen in shrieks of terror as they were struck down. Andromeda was always first, her hand outstretched as she attempted to fight for her freedom, but a jet of green light struck her chest like an arrow. Always true to its mark each time she saw the scene. Defiant, as she had always been, but the stubbornness was not unknown to the Black girls. Despite her utter treachery, Bellatrix had always found a way to keep her out of the Dark Lord’s direct line of sight.

Narcissa died last. She laid sprawled out on hard stone flooring, weeping and begging for the life of her child. Slowly, with her arms wrapped around a squirming blonde-haired babe, she would seem to melt into a pool of dark liquid. Her light, nearly white, hair fanned out around her was stained red with blood. A shadowed figure stood over her sinking form, letting out a high cruel laugh before ending her life.

No matter how many times Bellatrix attempted to change their fates, they always left her. And her mind would collapse into darkness, the deaths of her sisters becoming her reality and the only thing she knew to be true. It was her punishment, for the crimes she had committed. Because she had done many things for her Master, unspeakable things, and whatever happiness she had clung to was sucked from her soul. Hollow, broken, but still alive, she’d been half mad by the time her Dark Lord rescued her.

Weeks had passed since then, but the taste of salt lingered on her tongue. The others, the ones who had escaped her fate, didn’t understand the agony she had endured. How could they? Cowardice ruled their lives as they all fled into hiding the moment their Master had fallen. No one searched for him, no one except her and two others. And their attempts had been all for naught. No information was retrieved from the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, nothing but assurance that Bellatrix was His most loyal servant. In the end they had all been sent away, to rot in cells until their bodies withered into corpses.

Her mind had been lost. Her power became unpredictable, yet as strong as ever. She blamed those that had put her in chains for the misery she had suffered and it was revenge that fueled her. Nothing would satisfy her more than to see her enemies parish in the flames she created and ever since her freedom she had strived to be at His side, aiding him, as she had done before. But the broken fragments of a once strong woman shuddered at his fury, trembled under his glare, and strove earnestly to please him once more. Let me find the boy. She had said, heart fluttering with a long forgotten sensation. But he had shot her down. Admirable as her devotion was, the boy was his. Everything was his. But today, things were changing.

An owl had arrived, a strange method of communication from the Dark Lord, but it was a private summoning. The Mark was used solely to command the presence of all, but tonight he only wanted her. Jittery with anticipation, she waited for the time she was allowed to come. It had been too long since their last private meeting. Nearly fourteen years had passed since she had last stood in his presence alone. Back then she had been so bold, a soldier who was both loyal and ambitious. Tonight, she would prove to be just the same.

When the clock struck eleven, she apparated out of the Malfoy manor unnoticed and arrived outside the safe house. It appeared, from the outside, to be a run down shack with nothing more to it than a tattered, dirty curtain that fluttered in a broken window. Weeds cluttered the front yard, tangling together with sharp thorns, and tainting the air with a putrid smell. Stepping forward, she tapped her wand on the right side of a wrought iron gate before creaking it open and slipping past silently.

The inside of the shack was much larger and cleaner than the outside, but nearly as dark. There was no light, save for a low golden glow coming from the end of a long hallway. It cut through the blackness like a knife and guided her way to where she knew the Dark Lord would be waiting for her. The scent of mildew carpet overpowering her senses, she placed a hand against the cracked door, and pushed it open, announcing her arrival.

“Bellatrix.” His voice was low, barely audible over the crackling and snapping of burning wood. He had his black turned to her, his pale hands clasped behind him like a man deep in thought. “I have some news for you---"

“My Lord!” Bellatrix gasped, breathless with the honor of standing before him. Her body shrank in the company of his, head bowed in respect, a tangle of wild black hair curtained her gaze for only a moment. She longed to look at him, to be seen by him. Slowly, but insistently, she moved closer. “What is it my Lord?”

Gazing into the fire, the strange features of Lord Voldemort were illuminated in an unearthly glow. His sharp cheek bones casted shadows over his face and his red eyes were sunk deep into his skull, like two beacons shining out of the depths of a cavern. It was unnerving, yet mesmerizing and the woman found herself transfixed, waiting for him to tell her why he had summoned her. Why her? What grand plan did he have for the one who had been sent away for him? But the task at hand was not a gift to his soldier, but a test. It had not been lost on him that the woman who had been returned to him was not the same. And there could be no risking that Azkaban had softened her, instead of strengthening her.

“It seems---young Harry has a fond attachment for your cousin, Sirius Black.” His raspy voice filled the room with little effort, his eyes trained on the flames that licked flesh from wood. His servant hissed at the name of her kin and took a small step back. “Now, now, Bellatrix.” Voldemort turned, his gaze resting on her gaunt face. Her hollow eyes were momentarily alight with temptation and he lifted a hand to cup her chin. “I have given our slippery friend, Lucius, a mission--- and I wish you to accompany him.”

Her slender fingers twitched, her body coiling away from his cold touch. “You should not trust him, my Lord. He is not trustworthy. Malfoy is weak!” Bellatrix spat. “He is not strong enough to carry out your missions. You should have let me do this.” She was the most loyal, she had done everything to find him, and her efforts were repaid with exclusion. How dare Lucius or Severus think they were the most favored, the most devout of them all. How dare they think themselves worthy! After all those years, they had spent in their cozy lives, forgetting who they were and letting the world forget who they had served.

Ignoring her outburst, the Dark Lord continued. “I’m going to lure the boy to the Department of Mysteries, so that we may retrieve the prophecy at long last. He will think Sirius is there, captured by me, tortured by me. This will bring him. But it will also bring Sirius, no doubt.” He paused, taking in the expression on his loyal servant’s face, drinking in the flickering of emotions hidden behind her lidded eyes. “You must rid the boy of him.”

It took only a moment for Bellatrix to understand what she was being instructed to do. It would not be her job to get the prophecy or even capture the boy, instead it would be to kill Sirius Black. “Of course, My Lord.” Her voice did not tremble or fault in any way to betray the sliver of hesitance she felt. The Black family name would die with Sirius and they would fade away, like other great houses had done. No more would they command the respect of others or insight fear, but instead dwindle away like a withering flower. Once dead, there would be no use to recollect on it and no chance of revival.

“That is all.”

The Dark Lord turned away from her and Bellatrix retreated into the shadows, the face of young Sirius dancing in her mind. Such a bright, vivacious boy he had been. What a shame…what a shame, she thought miserably. But she could not fail. It was clear to her, now, that this was not a mission she could turn away from. There would be no more shielding her family from the wrath of the Dark Lord.

#bellatrix lestrange #oneshot #hp #lord voldemort #bellatrix #voldemort #dark lord #blackfamily #hpfic #fanfic #harry potter #lestrange #loyalty #death eater

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marypsue · 7 years

Text

Death of the Author 2 / 3

I am, as ever, guilty of story bloat. My planned last chapter of this fic has had to be split into two. Hey, on the bright side: more fic!

I forgot to add a warning the first time around, but this chapter contains some prime examples of Gideon being his particular brand of awful towards Mabel. Tread carefully if that’ll affect you. Also, I owe all credit to @seiya234 for the golf cart.

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

I’m also on AO3 as MaryPSue!

...

"Look at us. When'd we get so old?"

Ford looked over, meeting her brother's eyes in the mirror. "You look like Dad."

"Eugh, don't say that," Stan said, with an exaggerated shudder.

There was a moment of silence, peaceful, almost companionable. Ford was just beginning to wonder if this was the time to break it when Stan said, awkwardly, holding his own gaze in the mirror as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck; "So, you're a woman now."

"Actually -" It was probably the best she was going to get, Ford decided, biting back the words that gathered at the back of her throat. "Yes." There was nothing to be ashamed of, she knew, but her borrowed turtleneck still felt suddenly too large and filled with prickly heat.

Stan nodded, still not meeting Ford's eyes. "Gotta say, I wouldn'ta seen that one coming."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! Nothing, I just -" Stan raised both hands defensively, still not looking Ford in the eye. "Knew some girls like that, back when I was living rough. Hell, I woulda died outside a bar in New Orleans in '76 if it weren't for a couple queens in evening gloves and tiaras. Just...never woulda pegged you as the type. I still gotta wrap my head around it. How'd you end up figuring that one out, anyway? I woulda thought after seventeen years living with Dad -"

"You don't need to understand, Stanley." Maybe it was unnecessarily rude, but then, her brother never had been one for subtleties, and Ford just needed him to stop before he strayed too close to the truth and the bitter memories she'd rather try to forget. "You just need to accept that this is the way things are. The way I am." So that we can all move on to more important things, Ford's brain supplied, the memory of the dollop of starry spacetime slowly undulating in a glass containment device in the basement below them rising once again to the forefront of her thoughts.

The last thing Ford expected Stan to do was give a sheepish chuckle. "You know, that's almost exactly what Mabel said?"

"What? When -"

"Night the kids got here. I mean, the parents explained a bit when they asked me to take 'em, but Mabel was the one to sit me down and give me the crash course." Stan huffed out a laugh. “Lotta things changed since the seventies.”

Ford's mind whirled, playing back all the many, many changes to her home dimension that she'd been forced to process immediately upon arrival. "Mabel? But I thought Dipper said he -"

"Yeah, yeah, Dip's the one who's transgender or whatever they're calling it now, but..." Stan fixed Ford with a look that made her feel not unlike the first time she'd stood up in front of the grant committee. "That kid's not usually as outgoing as he was with you, you know."

"Me? Why me? He doesn't know me from a - a hole in the ground."

"That's where you're wrong, poindexter. That kid's been hero-worshipping that damn journal of yours all summer." Stan's stare softened, almost imperceptibly, before it turned into a glare. "You're his hero. And so help me, if you let him down, if you hurt those kids, I'll break your stupid glasses. And your nose with 'em."

“What? You can’t honestly think I would ever -”

Stan crossed his arms over his chest, staring in the general direction of the mirror instead of turning to face Ford. “I’m just sayin’, last time I tried to help you we nearly both got sucked into that portal of yours. Just stay away from those kids. I don’t want them in danger.”

With great effort of will – and, she thought, impressive restraint – Ford managed to bite back the selection of choice words that threatened to slip from her lips. “Fine,” she snapped, instead, turning her back on her brother. “Then you’ll ensure that they stay out of my way.”

It might have been pure spite that made her turn back when she heard the shuffle of Stanley starting to move. “And Stanley? When the summer ends, so does this Mystery Shack nonsense. You give me my house back, you give me my life back -”

“Thought you didn’t want it anymore,” Stan said, coldly, and there was something wrong with his voice. It was just slightly...off, as though Ford had tried to reconstruct his tone and cadence from –

...memory...

“Stanley?” Ford asked, but her brother only went on, as though his voice was playing from a pre-recorded script.

“You’re not Stanford Pines anymore. I’m Stanford Pines! I’ve been Stanford Pines the last thirty years! And I’ve done a better job of it than you ever did. What’d you accomplish, anyway? Causin’ the end of the world?”

“Stop it,” Ford said shortly, and Stan gave a sort of half-laugh, half-snort that had no humour in it.

“Stop what? Telling the truth? You don’t belong here anymore. There’s no place for you to fill. Stanley Pines is dead, Stanford Pines is right here. And he sure as hell never had a sister.”

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. This wasn’t – wasn’t how this conversation –

For the first time, Ford looked, not at her brother’s reflection in the glass, but at his face.

Yellow eyes glowed above a massive, wicked grin that looked much too much like the smile that Stanley wore as Mr. Mystery for comfort. Ford took a step back as the imposter turned to face her, still grinning, shoulders back, posture triumphant. Gloating.

“Bill,” Ford hissed, reaching into her coat for a weapon, only to come up empty-handed.

The imposter in front of her winked one slit-pupiled eye, pointing an index finger at her. “GOT IT IN ONE, KID! GOTTA SAY, YOU SURE DO TAKE A WHILE TO CATCH ON!”

“What are you doing here? This isn’t what -” Ford glanced around, a sudden uncertainty trailing chilly fingers up the back of her neck. “Isn’t how I remember it...”

“ISN’T IT, NOW?” Bill said, his voice dripping with mocking sympathy. “WOW, CAN’T IMAGINE WHY THAT MIGHT BE!”

“You. You did this, somehow you tampered with my memory -”

“OH, SIXER, I’M FLATTERED! BUT YOU’RE GIVING ME TOO MUCH CREDIT.” Bill waved one of Stanley’s hands dismissively, before snapping his fingers. The room around Ford suddenly burst into flame, a ring of yellow fire trapping her in close with Bill and the mirror. “NOPE, THAT PESKY BARRIER OF YOURS IS STILL DOING ITS JOB! FOR NOW.”

Ford tried to ignore the way Bill’s voice dropped into a register almost too low for human hearing to detect, the way it rumbled up her legs and thrummed in her lungs. She drew in a deep breath, trying to centre herself, control her fear. “So you’re just doing what you always do. Plaguing me with your ridiculous, pointless nightmares because there’s nothing you can do to touch me.”

Bill shrugged Stan’s shoulders, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling with a mocking grin. Ford glanced up as well, and immediately wished she hadn’t. The twisted, howling faces that emerged from the woodwork would be etched on her imagination for weeks. “HEY, YOU SAY NIGHTMARE, I SAY SNEAK PREVIEW!”

“Sneak...”

Bill’s gaze snapped back onto Ford, like a laser, focused and intent on burning a hole right through her. “REMEMBER HOW I GENEROUSLY WARNED YOU I WAS HAVING SOME FRIENDS OVER?”

Ford shook her head. The memory of the nightmare that had driven her to reveal the rift to Dipper and started this whole blasted chain of events in motion jumped immediately to mind, but she couldn’t quite string it together with what was happening around her now. “You got what you wanted. The rift is open, the world is your plaything, everything we know has changed - what could you possibly be warning me about?”

Bill’s smile, if it were possible, grew even wider, stretching Stan’s face in a way that Ford knew from painful personal experience would leave his jaw aching for days afterwards. She winced in sympathy, and that was when it struck her, like a thunderbolt.

“No,” she snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at Bill. “Stanley would never, he’s - he’d see right through you! You have nothing to offer him! He’d never make a deal with you -”

“OH, IS THAT SO?” Bill let out an enormous belly laugh, and the faces on the ceiling howled in an unholy harmony. “IT’S BEEN THIRTY YEARS, SIXER! AND YOU’RE WALKING, TALKING PROOF THAT PEOPLE CHANGE.”

Ford swallowed, hard, past the lump that had appeared, unbidden, in her throat. “You keep your filthy two-dimensional hands off of my brother, or -”

“OR YOU’LL WHAT?” Bill took two steps forward, leering into Ford’s face. She tried to step back, but the ring of flames nipped at her heels, pushing her forward into Bill. “FACE IT, FORDSY, YOU’VE ALREADY LOST! THIS WORLD IS MINE NOW! I CALL THE SHOTS! AND IF I WANT YOUR BROTHER - AND, YANNO, I THINK I DO WANT YOUR BROTHER, HE SEEMS LIKE A FUN GUY! - THEN IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME!”

Both of his slit-pupiled, yellow eyes suddenly turned to little clock faces, hands frantically whirring around the hours as he pressed even closer into Ford’s personal space.

“TICK TOCK, SIXER!” Bill shouted, brightly, with far too much glee.

Ford –

...

Ford jolted awake.

For a long moment, it felt like an impossible weight was pressing down on her chest, crushing the breath out of her. She clawed at her constricting turtleneck with one hand, pressing the other to her mouth even as she tried to drag in a lungful of air, as though she could physically stuff down the cry that was climbing up her throat.

Darkness had gathered around the Shack so gradually that Ford had barely noticed the red light draining from the sky. Now, it seemed as though night had fallen all at once, a blanket of pure dark dropped over the Shack, muffling the distant shrieks and roars from the town. The living room had, she realised, fallen almost silent, the warm dark full of the sounds of soft snores and sleepy mumbles. Nearly every person Dipper had spent the afternoon enthusiastically introducing her to as ‘the author of the Journals, my great-aunt!’ had either trickled out or found bedding somewhere and hunkered down to sleep. Even Dipper's head was bobbing forward, the bottom of his shirt falling out of his slack mouth, and Mabel was curled up wrapped in the STAN SAVIOUR SQUAD banner, passed out across her pig.

Ford’s lungs finally inflated, and she gasped in a huge gulp of air. She felt nearly boneless with relief, and yet, the darkness still pressed in on her. She could still see Bill’s clock-face eyes set in Stanley’s familiar face hovering before her, the hands racing. Could still hear his jeering voice promising - no. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Bill might be clever, and devious, and capable of slipping poisoned-honey words into a willing ear like no one Ford had ever met, but still, surely Stanley would never -

Tick tock.

Ford forced herself to take one long, deep breath, to let it out slowly, listening to her heart gradually calming from its frantic pace. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Bill was only trying to get to her again, get inside her head. If he’d really been able to get Stanley to join him, he wouldn’t be wasting time on dreams and visions. He would’ve just dragged Stan’s body back to the Shack to gloat. Stan would never fall for Bill’s lies, Stan was - was better than that, was smarter -

She must not have shouted in her sleep, if she hadn't woken the children. Either that, or they were so exhausted that they'd slept right through it.

Regardless, it was well past time they were in bed. Ford took a few more deep breaths before pushing herself to her feet, wincing at the sudden rush of blood from her head. The living room wobbled and flashed bright black and white at the corners of her vision for a moment before everything settled again.

Dipper shook awake the moment Ford put a hand on his shoulder, head snapping up and looking around like a startled deer. "I wasn't asleep!" he protested, dropping the volume of his voice when Mabel sighed and rolled over in her sleep. "I was...contemplating."

Ford couldn't help the smile that stole across her face. "Do you think you could contemplate better from the comfort of your own bed?"

"No, I can do this, I can -" Dipper stopped when Ford gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, sighing and looking down at the carpet by his feet. "I blew it, didn't I." It didn't come out as a question.

"What do you mean, my boy?"

"I don't know, I just -" Dipper threw his hands out helplessly. "It feels like there's something more I should be doing, but I just don't know what, or how, and now you're putting me to bed like a little kid."

Ford bit down on her lower lip, unsure of what to say. She knew exactly what Dipper meant - every second they spent not finding a way to get Stanley back felt like a second wasted. There had to be something that would make Dipper feel less like he was failing, but she couldn’t even begin to imagine what that might be.

If she could, perhaps she’d be feeling a little more hopeful herself.

Finally, she let out a sigh, and lowered herself to sit on the floor beside Dipper, groaning at the stiffness in her knees. “Everyone else is already asleep, we won’t accomplish much by staying up and draining ourselves further. We’ll all need to be at our best to face Bill and whatever surprises he might throw at us tomorrow.” She did her best to swallow down the bitter, sick taste that rose in the back of her mouth at the thought of what those surprises might include.

“I know,” Dipper said dejectedly, rubbing his upper arm and staring down at the floor.

Ford looked down herself, her eyes wandering until they came to rest on the gentle rise and fall of Mabel’s chest under the banner she’d wrapped herself in.

“Why don’t you come help me get Mabel to bed,” she said, and Dipper seemed to perk up, just a little. “If you’re still not feeling like sleeping afterwards, we can reconvene here and see if we can find any flaw in the plan that we might have overlooked.”

“Okay,” Dipper conceded, and Ford noticed a small smile had stolen across his face as he watched Mabel and Waddles snoring, though there was still a little wrinkle of worry in his brow. Ford didn’t blame him - the last time they’d watched Mabel sleeping this peacefully, they hadn’t known whether she would ever wake up.

Bill. It all came back to him. Every single person in the Shack, from Fiddleford passed out with his blowtorch in hand over the giant robotic leg he was welding right on down to the plaidypus curled up with the cross-eyed gnome in the corner had lost something - if not everything - to Bill. If it weren’t for Bill, Mabel would never have been forced to see a world where everyone seemed happier without her. If it weren’t for Bill, Dipper wouldn’t have been made to doubt himself like this, wouldn’t be shouldering this burden of responsibility that should never have been his in the first place. (Not when it had been all Ford’s fault, right from the beginning, her folly and her arrogance and her pride -)

If it weren’t for Bill, Stanley would be here with them right now, probably cracking some awful joke and then laughing at his own lack of wit when no one else did. Stanley would be here, aggravating everyone as usual, putting on that showman’s smile to make the children feel better, treating the whole thing like one big joke. Stanley would be safe, and he wouldn’t be - and he would know what to say to make Dipper feel better, and -

None of this would be happening if it weren’t for Bill Cipher.

Ford’s hands clenched into fists without her input, nails digging into the heels of her hands. She tried not to listen to the traitorous little voice in the back of her mind that whispered none of this would be happening if you hadn’t let him in.

“We’re not going to defeat Bill tomorrow,” Ford said, slow, turning her gaze back to Mabel.

There was a quaver in Dipper’s voice. “We’re, uh, we’re not?”

“No.” Ford slammed one fist into the palm of her other hand. It felt like a river of lava was rising slow through her veins, the heat pulsing in time with her heartbeat. “We’re going to destroy him.”

...

Mabel woke up briefly as Ford carried her up the stairs, her enormous yawn audible even though her face was pressed against Ford’s shoulder. At twelve years old, the twins were almost too tall to comfortably carry, but Ford hadn’t wanted to wake the girl, not when she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. If Ford herself had been able to steal a fraction of that peace in the middle of Weirdmageddon, she wouldn’t have wanted it disturbed.

“Whzfl?” Mabel asked, sleepily, and Dipper piped up before Ford could say anything.

“It’s okay, Mabel, we’re just going up to bed. You fell asleep on Waddles.”

Mabel let out a sigh, her head falling back against Ford’s shoulder. “How late is it?” she asked, sounding a little more awake, though not much.

“Well, according to Bill, time is dead and meaning has no meaning, but I’d say it’s definitely past your bedtime,” Ford answered, drawing a little snort of laughter out of Mabel.

“That means you too, Dipper,” Mabel said, her voice muffled in Ford’s sweater. “I saw you gnawing your shirt.”

“Aw, Mabel,” Dipper protested, but he didn’t try to deny it.

And he didn’t try to resist when they made it up to the attic and Mabel slipped down out of Ford’s arms and pointed...well, pointedly at the bed across the attic from hers. “Bedtime, mister,” she said, and Dipper shook his head, but he was smiling.

“And that goes for you too!” Mabel added, rounding on Ford. “We’ve got an awesome giant robot house to pilot and an evil geometrical guy to fight tomorrow! You don’t wanna fall asleep in the middle of it! You’ll miss all the fun parts!”

Ford, despite herself, couldn’t help a soft laugh. “You’re right,” she said, nodding in Mabel’s direction. “I’ll leave you two to it, then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Mabel echoed, Dipper giving a sheepish wave as Ford stepped out of the attic room and pulled the door closed behind her, careful not to let it slam.

The Shack was eerily still as Ford made her way down the attic stairs. It was strange. She’d lived here, alone, for nearly a decade, and yet, after only a couple of months, it already felt wrong for the place to be so silent.

Ford paused on the second-floor landing, glancing down the hall towards her room before turning towards the stairs down to the main floor. She’d meant what she’d told Dipper. They all needed to be at their best tomorrow. Bill was cunning and vicious - he’d give no quarter, and they wouldn’t get any second chances. Ford knew she ought to try to get some sleep, to make sure that she herself was alert and sharp when their long-delayed confrontation finally came.

That, too, was strange. For years - thirty of them, to be exact - that thought had been Ford’s sole comfort. One day, she would come face-to-face with Bill Cipher for the last time. One day, she would put an end to this game of cat and mouse that they had played for so long, lay all her mistakes to rest, wipe her ledger clean. Even if it meant the end of her as well as Bill.

But now, for the first time, the thought of finally facing Bill filled Ford not with comfort, but with a sick, sinking dread.

All of her long, hard years of preparation, all of her plans, all of her strategy, it had all come to nothing in a snap of Bill’s fingers. Ford was running blind, while Bill held the upper hand - as, Ford now saw, he always had. The last time she’d prepared herself to face him, she’d been calm, confident. Certain. Now, all she could feel was jittery, buzzing with a nervous energy that bordered on frantic, a need to do something more, something better, something.

Ford knew why. Last time, she’d had a plan. Last time, she’d known what she was doing, what needed to be done. Last time, she’d known - she’d thought - she was equal to the task.

And the last time she’d prepared herself to face Bill, hers had been the only life on the line.

The silent dark of the Shack pressed in on Ford as she stared down the stairs towards the living room, like a smothering, heavy blanket. She tried not to see monsters rising out of the well of shadow at the foot of the stairs, not to hear sinister whispers in the soft snores from the living room. The unicorn-hair barrier should keep them safe, here. Unlike Stanley, who might - who must be facing unimaginable horrors even as Ford tucked the children safely into bed and settled down for the night herself.

The worst part was not knowing. Not knowing what awful things Bill might be doing to Stanley, yes, not knowing what Bill’s game was, why he might be taunting her with the threat of turning Stan against them, but worse, not knowing what to do. Mobilizing the Shack and its protective barrier had been a stroke of genius on Fiddleford's part, an ingenious solution to the problem of how to get to Bill’s pyramid, but what would they do if - when they got there? Ford still hadn’t been able to identify all the members of the prophecy wheel, and the news that Bill’s eyebats had been kidnapping people and turning them to stone meant that she could be missing vital pieces. She didn’t have enough information, didn’t know anything about the people of this town or how to go about learning enough about them to successfully place them on the wheel - if only Stanley were here, he could have sorted this out in a matter of hours, maybe only minutes, but he wasn’t and anything at all could be happening to him while Ford was busy battering her head against a problem that she had no idea how to even begin to think about solving, but which she still somehow had to solve, or else -

A vision of Stan’s face when Ford had stepped out of the portal, the shocked, disbelieving smile that had spread across it in the seconds before she’d punched him, floated to the surface of Ford’s memory. Her grip on the railing tightened, until she feared she’d give herself splinters.

No. She wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

...

Ford was digging through the hall closet, looking for blankets or pillows or some kind of bedding (and not for illegal fireworks, or a crate of Cuban cigars that, judging from the labels, had been there since the early eighties at the latest, or a painting of a sad clown on black velvet, honestly, Stan) when she heard the front door creak open.

It felt like someone had threaded a live wire down her spine. Ford was instantly awake, alert, listening hard for the slightest sound. The cold stillness of the closet suddenly seemed deathly, every shadow heavy with menace.

Heavy footsteps made the elderly boards of the porch complain softly, and Ford could hear lowered voices, murmuring in thrumming bass tones. She couldn't make out the words, but she hardly needed to. Anyone trying to sneak into the Shack undetected, at this hour, after everyone else was already asleep, couldn't be up to anything good.

Ford tried to ignore the jackhammer beat of her heart, keep her breathing quiet, slow, steady. She took a careful step closer to the door of the closet, scanning the hall before her before reaching up to tug the string to shut off the light.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, a moment that Ford spent watching, tense, for monsters to lunge out of the dark at her, watching afterimages swim in front of her eyes and trying not to mistake them for actual movement. The low mumble of voices from the entryway, thankfully, didn't so much as falter. They must not have noticed the light from the hall, then, to not have been concerned about its disappearance. That was good. That meant Ford still had the element of surprise on her side.

She crept forward, peering out around the closet door. Her night vision was slowly returning, enough so that she could catch a glimpse of movement in the entryway at the end of the hall. Ford sucked in a breath and ducked back behind the door, listening hard for footsteps stomping down the hall towards her hiding place.

Instead of the expected footsteps, though, Ford heard a voice that, despite the fact that she'd only known the speaker for a day, was instantly recognisable.

"And careful with Mabel! I don't want a hair on my marshmalla's head outta place!" Gideon's halfhearted attempt at a whisper turned dismissive as he added, "But if something were to...happen...to that meddlesome twin o' hers, why, well now, wouldn't that just be a shame." His tone made it very clear that he did not, in fact, think this was the case.

Ford bit back the curse she wanted to hurl. Dipper had been right. It had been a trap. And she'd walked right into it, as Bill must have known she'd do, unable to resist playing the hero.

This was no time for self-recriminations, though. The children were in danger. Ford drew her blaster as quickly as she dared, trying not to make a sound, and stepped quietly and deliberately out into the hall.

Every step she took felt like an eternity, every one of her senses screaming as she drew closer and closer to the entryway. The voices fell silent when she was about halfway there, replaced by the creaks and thumps of someone heavy trying to move quietly over the aging floorboards. Ford held her breath, pressing herself against the wall and edging closer to the corner that would let her out into the entry and finally bring her face to face with the intruders.

The thump of heavy footsteps took on a hollow quality, rising up the stairs towards the attic. Ford squeezed the handle of her blaster tight enough to make her knuckles ache, to keep her index finger from tightening on the trigger, and dared to steal a glimpse around the corner.

The entryway was thronged with - well, Ford hadn’t been in her home dimension for quite some time, but goons were pretty much the same the multiverse over. At least they all appeared to be human, though they also all seemed to be hanging on Gideon’s every word. That couldn’t bode well. It was difficult to tell in the low light just how many there were, but Ford was sure she was badly outnumbered, and, as she’d learned from long experience, charging in now with guns blazing would only take away the one advantage she still had.

“An’ Fishbait?” Gideon called down the stairs, and Ford had to remind herself to breathe quiet, slow, steady. She hadn’t been spotted yet. She wouldn’t let her emotions get the better of her, give away her element of surprise. But - if that little cretin so much as laid a hand on either Dipper or Mabel -

Breathe. Quiet. Slow. Steady.

“Yeah, boss?” a nasal voice from the foot of the stairs echoed back, and Ford froze, holding her breath. Whoever was talking was just around the corner she’d just peered around.

“Don’t you waste too much time on the townies. Just find that unicorn-hair barrier Bill told us about an’ take out a piece, he’ll take care of the rest.”

“Yeah, boss,” the voice agreed, and there was a soft shuffling. The door creaked open, then closed again. Heavy footsteps continued up the stairs, fading as they rose towards the second floor.

Ford drew in another long, steadying breath, clicked her blaster to ‘stun’, and stepped out around the corner.

The two thugs Gideon had left standing in the foyer, one hanging around by the door, one by the staircase, both jumped at Ford’s appearance. The reedier one by the door reached for something at his hip, and Ford lined up, squeezed her eyes shut, and fired a stunning bolt directly into the man’s chest. She opened her eyes just in time to see her target slumped against the wall and the man who had been standing by the stairs staggering backwards, a hand over his eyes, clearly blinded by afterimages from the flash of the stun bolt. Ford fired off another shot in his direction, then hesitated. She wanted nothing more than to charge straight up the stairs after Gideon and his cronies, but - if she let the barrier be broken, then there would be nowhere safe left in Gravity Falls.

Ford muttered a curse that maybe seven other people in this dimension had ever heard uttered aloud, and sprinted for the door.

...

The stairs felt a million miles high. Ford took them two at a time, even though her breath was starting to come hard and her legs burned with every step. Any thought she might have had of stealth or strategy had vanished, reduced to a single, overwhelming focus. All she could think, all she could see, were the terrible possibilities unspooling through her mind. Perhaps she’d stopped the objectively greater threat, for the moment, but she couldn’t tell that to the lump in her throat or the frantic thump of her heart.

She hadn’t made it to the top of the attic stairs before every last one of her fears burst to technicolour life at the sound of Mabel’s shout.

“Let go of me, you - you - you big gorilla!”

“You won’t get away with this, Gideon!” Dipper yelled, from somewhere at the top of the attic stairs. Ford hit the landing at a dead run, crossing it in two steps.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Dipper Pines,” Gideon’s smarmy voice echoed down the stairs that Ford was climbing, smug and triumphant. “I already have! Turns out that li’l ol’ barrier y’all were so proud of sure don’t work so well on humanfolk, does it? All I have to do is give the signal, and Bill’s eyebats’ll be all over this ol’ place like flies on a cowpat. And my oh my, but unicorn hair’s such a fragile material. Don’t you agree? Why, anythin’ could just...happen...to it.”

“You monster!” Mabel gasped, her voice muffled by the attic door.

“Scream all you want, sugarplum,” Gideon giggled. “Nobody’s comin’ to help you -”

“Wrong,” Ford said, flinging the attic door wide. Her head felt curiously light, but at least her aim was steady as she stepped into the room, pointing her blaster directly at the dead centre of Gideon’s head. “Put the children down. Carefully,” she added, when the pale-eyed goon carrying Dipper under one arm and Mabel under the other looked suspiciously like he was about to drop them both unceremoniously to the floor.

“Well, well,” Gideon said, turning slowly in place to face Ford. “Seems I spoke too soon. Evenin’, Stanford.”

“Just Ford,” Ford snapped. “I said, let Dipper and Mabel go.”

Gideon tapped a fat finger against his chin, his smile growing as he pantomimed thought. “Hm, no, I’m thinkin’ not.” He held up both hands and clapped them, twice, and Dipper’s shout came just a moment too late.

“Great-aunt Ford, look out -”

The blow collided with the back of Ford's head like a thunderclap. She barely had time to wonder which of Gideon’s cronies had snuck up behind her, and how, before the world went dark.

...

A low rumble was the first thing Ford was aware of, a deep bass buzz vibrating up through her bones and rattling her teeth. Slowly, the rumble solidified into engine roar and the rattle of wheels over gravel. The floor jolted and shivered underneath her, nearly knocking the air out of her lungs more than once.

Ford opened her eyes.

The sky overhead was reddening with early dawn light. Ford had seen some truly spectacular skies in her thirty years of wandering, but none quite like this. It looked like some particularly deranged - and tasteless - set designer had slapped it together for a Grand Guignol opera. The whole thing seemed awash in blood, save for the eye-searing pus-yellow shimmer of the rift hovering above the black pyramid. The whole sky glared like a gaping wound.

It was a little difficult to see properly, however, because of the bars and the roof of the cage obscuring her vision.

“A cage?” Ford sputtered, pushing herself up off of the bouncing metal floor to grab at the bars, in the faint hope that she might find one loose, or illusory, or discover some other means of escape. She had no such luck. All she got was a clear view of the rough ground bumping away behind her. Apparently the floor was rattling because it was, in fact, the bed of a heavily-modified pickup truck. A cage! There were many things Ford could name that would be more humiliating and demeaning, but with solid metal bars between her and the outside world, none sprang to mind.

“Yeah. I tried to tell Gideon it was kind of overkill,” Dipper’s voice said, and Ford let go of the bars to spin around. Her great-nephew was sitting slumped against the bars at the back of the cage, his hat tipped down to cover his eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s...kind of a drama queen.”

So Gideon had them. Which meant that they were being delivered, gift-wrapped, to Bill Cipher.

Ford gripped the bars behind her for support, suddenly feeling as though all of her strength had bled right out of her in between breaths. For a moment, everything seemed to settle down on her, like layers of sediment, leaving her immobile, fossilised.

Ford reached down to draw her coat tighter around herself, only to discover that it wasn't there. A frantic search revealed that her weapons had been taken as well, even the small laser knife she kept strapped to her ankle. Certainly, it didn't actually leave her defenceless - she was perfectly capable of killing another being in hand-to-hand combat, if it came to it - but that didn't stop the firework-bursts of panic that slashed between her ribs and splashed against the back of her skull. Her own movements felt strange, disconnected, as though she'd been divorced from her body. As though she'd been forced out of it -

She drew in another breath, as long and deep as she dared with the thick dust and wafts of sulphur and cotton candy on the wind, feeling the roughness of the bars digging into her palms.

When she trusted her voice again, she asked, “Are you all right?”

Dipper shrugged one shoulder. He didn’t look up.

“Mabel...?” Ford asked, looking around the small enclosure, though she already knew what she’d find.

“She’s up front with him,” Dipper spat, raising his head for the first time as he jerked a thumb towards the narrow window a little ways above his head. “Gideon didn’t wanna let her out of his sight.”

Ford nodded. It felt like all she could do. She didn’t want to voice what she knew they both must be thinking.

The weight of their situation, the true depths of her failure, still threatened to fall on Ford, crushing her utterly, but just as she had so many times before, she managed to force it aside. No one else was coming to save them. There was no one to rely on but herself. She couldn’t let Dipper down. She couldn’t afford to break.

“All right,” Ford said, the gears of her mind slowly, ponderously grinding back into motion. “We need to get out of here, find some way to liberate Mabel -” A thought struck her, and she paused, before crossing the bed of the truck in two strides to peer in through its narrow back window. “Gideon mentioned something about Bill wanting us. It would only make sense that that would be where he’s delivering us. If we can take control of this vehicle, perhaps we can use it to enter Bill’s lair undetected.”

“That’s a great idea!” Dipper said, pushing back his hat as he looked up, the ghost of a smile slipping across his face. It vanished as he went on, though, along with the note of hope that had momentarily lit up his voice. “But I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here. I had a look around while you were unconscious, and this thing is locked up pretty tight. I think they welded these bars straight into the frame of the truck.”

Ford gave the back window a cautious push with the pads of her fingers. It felt as thick as it looked, solid, difficult to shatter without being able to get a good wind-up for fear of hitting the bars instead. There was no give in it to suggest that it might be, if not shattered, then popped out of its setting by a well-thrust elbow. And even if she could damage or remove the window somehow, she wouldn't be able to reach far enough across the back seat to get at the driver or Gideon in the front seat. If she only had some kind of weapon - !

“Ugh! Why can’t you just leave us alone!” Mabel’s voice rose, and Ford shifted her attention to the glowing purple thing in the backseat. She’d overlooked it before because it didn’t seem like anything that might help them escape, but now that she saw what it was, it took everything in her not to punch the glass despite knowing how little good it was likely to do.

Mabel was caged, too, locked up in an elegant, scrollwork birdcage just barely big enough for her to sit up in, a huge, triangular padlock marked with a shooting star sealing it closed. She was hugging her knees, her sweater stretched out over them. Ford couldn’t see her face, but she was certain it was a picture of misery.

Gideon spun as best he could in his carseat, pressing a hand against the lapel of his powder-blue suit with a look of put-upon patience. “Mabel, dumplin’, I’m doin’ this for us -”

“There is no us!” Mabel exploded, waving both arms through the bars of the cage so violently that it nearly slid off the backseat. “Gideon, I liked being your friend, but I don’t even want to be that anymore! This is, like, the third time you’ve tried to kill my whole entire family!”

“Fourth,” Dipper muttered, pushing himself to his feet and walking over to where Ford was standing, pulling himself up on tiptoes to peer into the cab of the truck.

Mabel plunged onwards, clearly unable to hear Dipper’s addition. “What made you think that hurting the people I care about would ever make me like you more?”

Gideon looked stunned, like Mabel had hit him across the face rather than just shouted at him. “They - they were comin’ between us -”

“The only thing ‘coming between us’ is you being a big, creepy jerk!” Mabel took a deep breath, her voice lowering in volume enough that Ford had to strain to hear her next words over the rumble of the truck’s engine and the rattle of the gravel underneath its wheel. What she lacked in volume, however, Mabel more than made up for in intensity. “And if you turn us over to Bill and stop us from rescuing Grunkle Stan - I will never stop hating you! Ever ever ever!”

“Mabel -”

“Ever!”

“Wow, go Mabel!” Dipper said, softly, and Ford looked down to see him beaming from ear to ear.

Gideon, for his part, looked almost at a loss for words. He reached carefully out towards Mabel, only for her to cross her arms over her chest and toss her head, turning away from him.

“Well...well,” Gideon started, weakly, sounding a little rattled, but growing in confidence with each word. “I’m certain we can do somethin’ about that. Bill is the master of the mind, after all.”

“What, so your response to her saying she doesn’t want anything to do with you because you’re a creepy jerk is to double down on being a creepy jerk?” Dipper spat, in apparent disbelief. “Cause, no offense, but that hasn’t exactly been a winning strategy for you so far.” He let out an enormous sigh, spinning to lean against the back wall of the truck and pressing the heels of both hands against his eyes. “Okay. We gotta do something, we gotta get Mabel out of there before -”

He cut his own sentence short. Ford looked up, peering past the bars. The floating black pyramid seemed closer, now, looming huge and menacing in the sky ahead.

For the first time, she turned her attention to their surroundings beyond the bars that held them in. Ford didn’t recognise the land they were driving through as part of the town or the surrounding forests - they seemed to have been abruptly transplanted to a red-dust desert scattered with the occasional ruins scrawled with ominous graffiti featuring Bill's single, watchful eye, the heat rising off of the barren ground stifling even from her position above it. Clouds of dust kicked up by the vehicles that flanked them made it difficult to see much, but it appeared that they were in the middle of a convoy of heavily-modified cars and trucks, covered in spikes and graffiti and a truly improbable array of weaponry. Ford thought she caught a glimpse of the water tower stalking on stilt-legs off to their left, but through the dust and the huge, multicoloured bubbles that hung heavy in the air, she couldn’t quite be sure.

The shattered, elliptical dome of a long building rose out of the dust on their right, and Dipper perked up, crossing the cage to look out between the bars at it. "Hey, that's the mall! Oh man, I didn't even recognise this part of town, Bill really did a number on -"

He stopped, mid-sentence, and nearly shoved his face in between the bars. "Did you see that?!"

Ford hurried over to Dipper's side, staring intently out at the wasteland. She didn't see anything beyond the clouds of dust, the slow roll of the giant bubbles, the single Jeep bristling, hedgehog-like, with spikes flanking them -

Ford blinked.

“Wasn’t there another vehicle -” she started, just as a slender, dark shape flew straight out of one of the enormous bubbles and landed in a crouch on top of the spiny Jeep. Ford watched in amazement as the figure grabbed the frame of the Jeep, kicked up into a handstand, spun 180 degrees, and swung down feet-first through the window, their feet colliding with the driver’s head. The Jeep swerved violently, veered right, then left, then -

“Look out!” Ford shouted, grabbing Dipper and dropping into a crouch just as the Jeep collided, heavily, with the side of the truck they were in. Long, wicked black spikes shot between the bars of the cage, one slicing through the air where, just seconds before, Dipper’s head had been. The truck shuddered at the impact, knocking Ford off her feet and onto the floor of the truckbed. She managed to pick herself back up just as the Jeep slammed into the truck again.

This time, she didn’t try to get back up.

Shouts from the cab and from the vehicles on their left told Ford that she and Dipper weren’t the only ones who’d noticed the strange figure that had hijacked the Jeep. There was a rumble and a squeal, and the truck slowed, the Jeep and the two flanking vehicles speeding past it as the driver braked, hard.

“Get us outta here!” Gideon squawked, from the front seat, his voice piercing even over the screech of tires and the shouts coming from the other vehicles. “We gotta get these three to Bill by any means necessary -”

“Way ahead of you, boss,” the driver rumbled, and the truck spun back in the direction it had come, throwing Ford and Dipper both up against the bars. The back of Ford’s head cracked against the metal, causing both to ring and stars to splash in front of her eyes for a second, the sharp smell of copper filling the back of her nose and mouth. She gingerly raised a hand to touch the back of her head, but there was thankfully no blood.

The truck shot back down the street the way it had come, thumping and rattling over the rough ground. Behind them, Ford watched, with a sinking feeling, as the two other vehicles from their little convoy - a police car with a sheriff’s star inscribed with Bill’s eye spray-painted over the legend on its side and a motorcycle with, somehow, seven wheels - boxed in the spiny Jeep. Whoever their strange assailant was, there seemed to be little doubt that Gideon’s henchmen would make short work of them.

She was just testing the bars that the Jeep had slammed up against for any sign of weakness when the truck suddenly jerked to a halt, right in the middle of the road. Dipper gasped, and then, did the last thing Ford would have expected.

He burst out laughing.

Ford straightened up, peering through the back window of the truck to look out the windshield and see what had forced them to stop. She had to blink several times, trying to make sure there wasn’t simply something in her eye. Even in an apocalyptic wildnerness of Bill’s creation, it still strained credulity to look up and see an enormous set of four wheels, taller than a man (had those come off a tractor?), and, perched on top of an equally hulking chassis like a tiara on the head of a Xenophorian thunderbeast, the body of a golf cart.

“What...?” she asked, and Dipper, beaming from ear to ear, jabbed a finger at the driver of the golf cart, a squat figure also all in black. As Ford watched, the figure unwrapped a scarf from around their face -

- and waved.

It wasn’t just any golf cart, Ford realised, belatedly. The red-and-yellow flags dangling from the roof and the huge, red question mark painted across the nose clearly marked it as the golf cart from the Mystery Shack.

“Soos?” she asked, at the same time as Gideon, from the front seat, let out a petulant whine.

“Am I supposed t’know who that is?”

“Soos!” Dipper yelled, jumping up and down and waving his arms, even though Ford doubted the handyman could see him from the angle he was looking down at the truck from. “We’re down here!”

There was no way that Soos could have heard them from all the way up in the golf cart, perched so high above the street, over the rumble and roar of engines, but still, Ford felt inexplicably warmed when he reached out and gave them a thumbs-up.

The golf cart started to roll, ponderously, forwards.

The truck lurched back into motion, screeching backwards away from the approaching golf cart, and executed a neat three-point turn before squealing away down the street. Or rather, it started to - but the street was barricaded by the cop car, flipped up onto its side to expose its undercarriage.

"Just go over it!" Gideon shouted, from the cab of the truck. "What's the use of havin' a monster truck if ya don't crush anythin' with it?!"

The driver didn’t move. A second later, Ford could see why.

The slim black figure that she’d seen take over the Jeep straightened up, balancing precariously on the upturned edge of the cop car. They planted their feet shoulder-width apart and their hands on their hips, head thrown back in obvious defiance, their whole being the physical embodiment of a challenge.

Behind them, the golf cart’s horn tooted, a sound that was honestly much more ominous than it had any right to be.

The truck’s engine growled, low and throaty, the floor under Ford’s feet thrumming like some great, caged beast eager to be set loose on some unsuspecting small herbivore. The dark figure stood still atop the cop car, unmoving. Apparently unafraid.

“Ghost Eyes!” Gideon snapped, and the truck roared to life, leaping forward.

The spiked grate on the front of the truck rammed into the cop car’s exposed undercarriage just as the figure in black jumped. They somersaulted in midair, landing with knees bent on the hood of the truck as it started to climb up and over the toppled cop car. One hand went to its waist, and pulled free a short-handled axe.

The figure in black gave the axe a quick spin in one hand before slamming it down on the windshield. The instant the axe struck against it, the windshield splintered, spiderweb cracks shooting crazily outwards from the point of impact. The driver jerked the wheel hard to the left, but the cop car underneath the truck kept it stuck in place.

Another blow, and the windshield shattered.

Gideon’s scream, Ford reflected, sounded remarkably like a stuck pig.

“Wendy!” Mabel yelled, throwing herself at the front of her cage, and the figure in black glanced up, waving through the windshield. The moment of distraction seemed to be enough, though, for the driver of the truck to reach through the windshield and punch the dark-clad figure in the side of the head. She toppled off the hood of the truck, vanishing behind the cop car.

“Go go go go go!” Gideon urged, and the driver obliged, stepping on the gas. The truck gave a furious whine, and Ford could feel the wheels spinning under her, but it didn’t move. Part of the cop car must have been wedged underneath it. "Get us outta here, before -"

A shadow fell over the back of the truck, blotting out the eerie red light, and Ford spun to see the golf cart, towering on its absurdly large wheels, bearing steadily down on them. She grabbed the bars of the cage behind her, shouting at Dipper, “Brace yourself!”

The crunch as the golf cart rammed into the back of the truck was nearly deafening. Ford could feel its reverberations through the soles of her feet, traveling up the bars she gripped. The whole truck rocked, wobbling precariously on its perch atop the upturned cop car.

“Soos! What’re you doing?!” Dipper yelled, waving his arms, as the golf cart drew back.

“Hang in there, doods,” Soos called back, over the rumble of engines and the grinding squeal of metal against metal, his rodent-like face set in an expression of grim determination as he revved the engine for another run up on the truck. “I’m gettin’ you outta there!”

Screaming from the cab behind her told Ford that Wendy had most likely gotten back up. Ford paid the sounds no attention.

“Hit it again!” she called up to Soos, who saluted and stomped on the gas. The golf cart jerked forward, bumping into the cage at the very back of the truck, and there was another screech of metal on metal as the bars visibly bowed inwards. One more blow, and one of the bars shot free with a distressing little metallic sigh.

It wasn’t the only thing dislodged by the golf cart, though. With one final, drawn-out scream of metal, the truck slid forward off of the cop car’s undercarriage, teetering for a moment before its front wheels touched ground. The truck shot forward like a bolt from a crossbow, only to lurch to a stop again a moment later, bouncing forward in fits and starts. Ford realised she’d lost track of how many times now she’d been knocked off her feet.

“Give - me - that - key!” Wendy yelled from the cab, punctuated by soft percussive sounds rather like a gloved hand hitting a sack full of water. Gideon’s shrieks sounded remarkably like Mabel’s pig when someone stepped on its tail, Ford reflected, as she helped Dipper out through the hole Soos had made in the cage and down off the bed of the truck.

“Wendy! Dood, we got ‘em!” Soos called, as Ford climbed down off the truck bed herself. She had to stop and cling onto the bars with all her might as the truck gave one last aborted leap forward, then ground to a stop, the engine chugging down. Ford cautiously lowered a foot to the asphalt below her, and then, when the truck didn’t drag her forwards again, hopped all the way down.

“Not yet!” Wendy shouted back, frustration clear in her voice. “Gideon’s got Mabel in an evil glowing birdcage, and he’s got the key somewhere.” Her voice dropped, and Ford assumed she was talking to the two in the front seat as she continued, “And this little creep is gonna tell me where it is. Right. Now.”

“No!” Gideon screeched, and Ford finally gave in to the temptation to circle around to the front of the truck, hoping for a better view of what was going on inside. The driver appeared to be out cold, probably felled by the blunt end of Wendy’s axe. Wendy herself had pulled off the dark hood she’d been wearing, revealing her face and her ginger hair, and was in the middle of - Ford blinked - giving Gideon a noogie. “I won this time! I won! Bill promised me -”

“Did he promise you Mabel’s heart?” Ford interjected, unable to help herself. “Because you should know that if he said that, he intends to drop the bloody organ in your hands after he removes it from her still-living body.”

Six pairs of eyes all fixed in Ford’s direction, identical perturbed expressions on each face. Ford managed, under the scrutiny, to shrug. “It’s his idea of a pun.”

She assumed the retching noise from the backseat of the truck was coming from Mabel.

Gideon struggled in Wendy’s grip, held as he was under one of her arms with her fist squashing his magnificent pompadour. “You’re a fool, Ford Pines,” he spat, pointing one finger like a brimstone-and-hellfire preacher passing judgement, though the effect was slightly spoiled by the fact that he was under four feet tall and currently being held like a small lapdog. “Bill Cipher coulda been a powerful friend to ya! But instead, you’ve made an even more powerful enemy.”

“What, you?” Dipper asked, sauntering over to Ford’s side. “Cause, uh, full offense, I saw you get taken down by a swarm of termites once.”

“Cursed termites!” Gideon wailed. “An’ I’ll unleash ‘em to plague you and your family even unto the seventh generation if you don’t tell this woman to get her hands off my hair!”

“Yeah, no such luck,” Wendy said, giving Gideon’s pompadour another vicious punch. It made a sad squeaking sound, and then slowly started to deflate, like a popped balloon. “Hand over that key!”

“No!” Gideon protested, kicking his little legs petulantly. “Mabel’s finally mine! You’re not takin’ her away from me again!”

“What? Nobody’s ‘taking’ me anywhere!” Mabel protested, from the back seat. “Ugh! As soon as I get out of this dum-dum cage, you’re in for a world of hurt, Gideon! And that’s a promise!”

“Yep,” Dipper said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his puffy vest and giving Gideon a look that was entirely too pleased with itself. “It definitely sounds like she’s madly in love with you."

“She’ll learn to love me!” Gideon yowled, and Wendy had to let go of the remnants of his pompadour to pin him with both arms so he couldn’t wriggle free. “She’ll have an eternity of captivity to come to her senses and see we’re meant to be -”

“It won’t be eternity,” Ford interjected, over the sharp inhale from Mabel and Dipper’s almost audible fuming. “This dimension has been doomed from the moment Bill Cipher opened that rift. I give it maybe a week - less if Bill keeps warping things, dragging things through from the Nightmare Realm, and widening the rift - before it grows too unstable to sustain its own existence and collapses, taking everyone and everything inside of it with it.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by a distant, inhuman screech.

“Bill didn’t mention that,” Gideon muttered.

“That’s because he’s a lying dirtbag who just says what he thinks you want to hear to get you to do stuff for him.” Dipper said. “Kinda like a dude on a dating website.”

“And it doesn’t matter anyway!” Mabel piped up, her voice high with righteous fury. “Because I don’t care how long you keep me stuck in a stupid cage, or a stupid dream, or a stupid fancy restaurant where they kill the lobsters in front of you, I am never ever ever gonna date you! I don’t know what part of this is so hard for you! Do I have to do an educational and inspiring musical number?”

“What do I have ta do!?” Gideon exploded right back at her, waving a fist. Wendy scowled halfway between annoyance and discomfort, trying to hold him in place. “I tried bein’ a gentleman! I courted you proper! I removed the obstacles your family placed in our path -”

“You mean you tried to steal my grunkle’s house and kill my brother!” Mabel shouted back.

Gideon ignored her, raising his own voice slightly as he ploughed onwards. “Why won’t you give me just one more chance? Mabel, I promise I’d be good ta you -”

“You put me in a cage! And not the cool kind you can dance in!”

“Just for now!” Gideon protested. “Just until ya love me!”

“I already told you, that is never happening!”

“What d’you want from me? I’ve tried everything!”

“You haven’t tried being a decent guy!” Ford had known Mabel long enough, now, to recognise the crack running through her anger, the dangerous wobble that meant she was close to tears. “You haven’t tried listening to me. I just want you to leave us alone! I just want you to leave me alone!”

The silence that followed felt like a shoe on the wrong foot, or a sixth finger squeezed into a five-fingered glove - awkward, uncomfortable, and only growing worse with time.

“Dude,” Wendy said, to Gideon, finally. “Key or no key, I am so tempted to just drop-kick you right now.”

“Mabel’s right,” Dipper said, and Ford noticed that the smug look had disappeared from his face, probably the moment Mabel’s voice had started to wobble. “Look. Gideon. You’ve tried everything you can think of to force Mabel to like you, and it’s always backfired. What’ve you got to lose by listening to her for once?”

“Wh- she wanted us to just be friends!” Gideon protested, and perhaps only Ford caught the way Dipper’s stare went hard.

“What, being Mabel’s friend is a bad thing?”

Gideon seemed to struggle for words for a moment, his face growing redder and redder. “Well...no, but -”

“I think Mabel’s a pretty good friend.” Dipper glanced up at Mabel’s cage, and smiled. “Scratch that. Mabel’s an awesome friend. You’d be lucky to have a friend like her. And if someday she decides she likes you as more than a friend?” He shrugged, with both hands still in his vest pocket. “That’s up to her, not you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this summer, it’s that you can’t make somebody love you.”

Ford got the strangest impression that Dipper was looking a little over Gideon’s head, closer to Wendy’s face, when he said, “All you can do is try to be somebody worth loving.”

In the ensuing silence, the driver of the truck let out a soft grunt and twitched. Ford held her breath until the man stopped moving again.

“Well, my my, what a touchin’ speech,” Gideon said, but his usual sickly-sweet sarcasm seemed as deflated as his hair. His gaze turned in Mabel’s direction, and Mabel sighed heavily, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not going to start being your friend again just because you stop trying to murder my family and make me your queen or whatever. You were a major jerky-jerk-jerkface to me, and Grunkle Stan, and Dipper, and - and everybody!” She gave another deep, heavy sigh. “But, if you really do start listening to me, and treating people better, and stop being such a mean jerk...I guess maybe then I could reconsider.”

She raised a hand, one finger extended, like a judge passing down a very important sentencing, and the stars swimming in Gideon’s eyes abruptly shrank. “But! You better show me some rehabilitation first, mister!”

“So wait, am I drop-kicking this dude or what?” Wendy asked. “Cause it’s getting super weird to keep holding him like this.”

Dipper’s gaze flicked over to Gideon, as did Mabel’s. Ford could see sweat beginning to bead on Gideon’s forehead.

“I -” he started, and then hung his head, dangling limply from Wendy’s grip. His voice dropped in volume until it was nearly inaudible. “I’m in it deep with Bill. You don’t know what he’d do ta me -”

“Actually, we do,” Ford spoke up, and Gideon started, like he’d almost forgotten she was there. “Or at least, I do. I know how much this is to ask of you - I’ve been fighting Bill for the last thirty years.” She gestured ruefully at the wasteland around them, trying to tamp down the burn of the embarrassed flush that started to creep its way up her neck. “You can see how that turned out. But - it’s not too late. Help us send Bill back to his own forsaken realm, reverse the damage he’s done, and save our world.”

Gideon took another long, lingering look in Mabel’s direction.

“Also,” Ford added, folding her hands behind her back, unable to keep the echo of a smile from her face, “I have it on good authority that chicks dig heroes.”

Gideon didn’t look away from Mabel, until Mabel, visibly uncomfortable, tugged the turtleneck of her sweater up over her face.

“Y’all really think it’s not too late?” he asked, sounding, for the first time, like the child he was.

“To stop Bill? Not as long as I live and breathe,” Ford said, curling the fingers of her right hand so tightly into a fist that her nails bit painfully into the heel of her hand.

“No, I mean -” Gideon gave his head a little shake. “Well, for me. To change.”

Dipper shuffled his feet in the dirt, glancing up at Ford.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” Ford said, shooting her great-nephew a smile before turning back to Gideon, “it’s that it’s never too late to change.”

Gideon drew in a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly, staring at the ground.

“All right,” he said, finally, thrusting his chin defiantly forwards. “Let’s go save the world!”

“Great,” Wendy said. “Now can I put him down?”

#gravity falls #grauntie ford #trans ford #this is mary's fic tag #in this chapter: the shit and the fan go on a nice blind date #long fic post

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ankj02-blog · 7 years

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I Love You (Drarry)

Description: This is a small Drarry fic of their years together in school. In a secret relationship, and some scenes like when they first said “I love you” til they came out (as a big surprise) to everyone! Hope you’ll enjoy! ---------------------------------------- Disclaimer: All the characters and the cannon belongs to J.K. Rowling! No one had known . ---------------------------------------- No one had known . It had been a secret for only them to know. A secret that was amazing, but unbearable at the same time. It was a secret for safety's sake. In one way it was a little bit exciting, but on the other hand, exhausting and it was tearing them both slowly apart not being able to be seen together in public. Having had so little time together. They had been dating since the middle of their third year, and no one knew even years later. To everyone else they had been the worst of enemies. And acted so in public... So no one would suspect anything. Of course no one would suspect anything. It was Harry Potter the Gryffindor golden boy, and Draco Malfoy the Slytherin Ice prince. But when no one had been around, mostly late at night, thank Merlin for Harry's invisibility cloak, they were all over each other. Especially since fourth year, right before the first task in the wizarding tournament. The first time they said "I love you". Harry had been freaking out about the first task, and that Ron was still acting like a enemy and that Hermione had mostly chosen Ron's side, even though she said she was neutral. Harry was, as said, freaking out, and pacing back and forth in front of his boyfriend of then 10 months, who was sitting on the bed in the Room of Requirement watching Harry in silence. Suddenly he blurted out "I love you" and the pacing boy stopped dead in his tracks. There was silence for about two minutes and Draco started to get worried. Should he not have said that? He asked himself. So he started causally "Harr--" but got cut off by the boy who lived, still frozen in place stuttering, "W-Wha-What did you say?" Then Draco got his confidence back and smirked. " I said I love you, you idiot " Harry then slowly turned towards his boyfriend, eyes wide. He definitely wasn't thinking about the tournament anymore. "Really?" He said unsure. "Yes, scarhead, if I didn't mean it I wouldn't have said it" the blonde answered. Harry blinked a couple of times, before smiling and walking over to Draco on the bed, sitting down next to him. He put his hand behind the blonde's neck and pulled him in for a sweet kiss. "I love you too" he smiled. Draco let out a small sigh in relief before pulling the black messy haired boy to him and kissing him deeply. Suddenly they were making out passionately in the Room of Requirement. Both of them loved that memory. Then there was the memory of the first time they made love right after the second task. Some would probably say they were too young to love, but they definitely didn't think so as they loved each other deeply. Even though they fought and teased each other at times. Luckily for them they had no one to tell them that. Then there was in the summer after fourth year when Harry was at Grimmauld place, still grieving Cedric and worrying about the return of Voldemort, Draco's letters was his only comfort, he forgot to hide one and his curious Godfather had found it and read it. So like that Sirius had been the first one to find out about them. At first he was a little taken aback, asking Harry if he was sure about this, mentioning Draco's family (everyone but himself, who was the only one not to turn dark) . Harry had been angry then. But later calmed down and told his only family member he had left everything. Sirius accepted their relationship and said he wanted to meet his cousin who had stolen his Godson's heart. When Draco told Harry he had told someone Draco had been surprised. He hadn't thought Harry would tell someone and so they had a small fight over it, but they quickly made up and Draco agreed to meet Sirius. So the first Hogsmeade weekend Harry brought his lover to meet his Godfather in the Shrieking Shack. They had both been weary of each other, but calmed down eventually and accepted each other. Jumping forward a few months too the fight in the Department of Mysteries where Harry lost Sirius, Draco was there to comfort him. Both of them were mourning, but Harry of course the most. He had been like a father to him. Draco had held him for hours, whispering soothing, very un-Malfoy-like, words in his ear. That Summer Draco was met with his own problems. He was forced to take the dark mark. At the start of the year he tried distancing himself from Harry, but didn't manage it for long as Harry was very persuasive. Harry found out about the dark Mark and that Draco had received a task, but Draco wouldn't say what it was. Scared out of his mind that something would happen to Harry or his family if he told. At the end of the year everything was messed up, but Harry and Draco's love stayed the same, even though they were on different sides in the war coming up. After Dumbledore's death Harry forgave Draco quickly as he saw his face in the astronomy tower that night. Draco wasn't gonna kill Dumbledore. After that night neither of them saw nor heard from each other for months. It was too dangerous. They missed each other like crazy. It wasn't before Harry, Ron and Hermione was taken to Malfoy Manor, before they saw each other again. When the death eaters brought in Harry. Even though they had been unsure if it were him because of Hermione's curse, Draco knew. And he was terrified for what would happen to his love. Their eyes had met and their gaze showed pure love, desperation and miss. Draco lied to his family, saving Harry and his friends. Harry took Draco's wand, knowing Draco would be okay. And before Dobby got them away, he send his lover the most love filled secret look he could, mouthing "I love you" , and Draco did it back, before he was gone and Dobby died. The next time they met was in the Final battle of Hogwarts. In the Rom of Requirement. They acting in front of their friends, but being so relieved the other one was alive. Harry saved Draco from the flames. And when they landed Harry quickly gave Draco, who was still on the ground a small kiss on the lips when their friends weren't watching, whispering "I love you, stay safe" which to Draco had answered "Love you too. Don't you dare die" before Harry and his friends was off. Later right before Harry was about to die. Give himself to Voldemort. He thought of his family. And his love. And how he wished a happy life for Draco. How he needed to do this, to give everyone a good life. When Draco saw Harris carrying Harry's body his heart broke. He was screaming on the inside. Biting his tongue to hide his tears. He didn't want to go over to Voldemort. He wanted to stay with the people he cared about. With Harry's friends. He wanted to fight for Harry, but he couldn't lose his family. So he went over to save his parents. Then Harry was gone. Everyone was panicking, most of the death eaters fled. But Draco ran inside. He saw his aunt die. But he didn't care about her. She tried to get him killed. She was a sick woman. Then his eyes caught Harry. And he stopped dead in his tracks. His heart skipping a beat. So relieved his soulmate was alive, yes soulmate, that he almost broke down and cried. But he kept fighting. For the light side. Harry's eyes caught Draco. He was extremely relieved he was okay. He had something to fight for. His friends, family, and love. Harry was dueling Voldemort. He won. And everyone was both grieving and celebrating at the same time. Draco and Harry had still not been able to see each other. Everyone was in the great hall. Harry was watching the people. Some hugged and congratulated him, but he didn't want their gratitude. He didn't do this alone. He was looking around for Draco, before suddenly seeing him sitting alone in the hall with his parents, looking as if though they don't know whether they should be there or not. Harry started walking faster towards him. Suddenly Draco caught saw Harry walking towards him and caught his eyes. He quickly stood up, earning a glance of confused from his parents. He started walking towards Harry. Then they were sprinting. Before meeting in the middle in a bone crushing hug. Everyone's eyes were on them, watching in disbelief, as the boys held each other tighter and they both started sobbing into each other. Gasps were heard in the hall and Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville took a step towards them, jaws nearly hitting the floor. They were all looking like they had just seen Snape in a ballerina dress. Ron were about to ask Harry what the hell was going on, but Luna stopped them, saying in her light sweet slightly insane voice. "Don't interrupt. They deserve a moment together after so much time apart." Before sighing. "Young love. Isn't it beautiful?" Everyone's eyes were on her with wide eyes. "E-excuse me?" Hermione asked. But Luna had already turned and walked back to her father. Harry and Draco was feeling such relief to be back in each other's arms that they didn't even bother that people were watching them. That people found out. They were both crying in relief, grief and love. Supporting each other. But Draco couldn't take it anymore. He pulled away for a moment, only to push his lips against Harry's. Again gasps, and now some shouting were heard, but The blonde and the black haired boys didn't care. They had each other. Everything would work out. When they finally pulled away, they looked around to see almost everyone's eyes on them. And Harry turned to Draco, he then turned back to the crowd. "I'm sorry. I'm just so happy to have my boyfriend back. We have all fought great tonight, we lost a lot of great people who all deserved better. But we now have to value what we have left. I have lost a lot of people in my life. And a lot of people tonight too, and that goes to many of you too. But we need to try to get past this. For the people who died for this. I have been hiding the person I love the most from the world, and I won't hide it anymore. I love Draco Malfoy. And he loves me. I still have him and my best friends and all of you guys. We need to stick together. Life is too short, as we've all seen tonight. But now I'm gonna go talk to my friends, and boyfriend, so please don't look as if this is the end of the world" He then took Draco's hand and led him over to his gaping friends. Ron was the first to react. "Harry! What are you doing! He's dangerous! He's a Malfoy! A death eater! You can't just suddenly decide he's good and your boyfriend as soon as the war is over. Come on Harry." The two lovers didn't like that, and Draco opened his mouth to say something back, but got cut off by Hermione. "Ron I don't think they got together today... or at least not right now. Let's hear them out. I don't trust Draco, but I'm willing to listen." "Thanks Hermione. I--" Harry starts, but this time it's Ginny who cuts them off. "I knew you were gay! I knew there was something you were hiding! Don't worry, I'm not homophobic. I can't say I like that it's with him of all guys, but if you're happy, I support you 100%" Ginny said to both Draco and Harry's surprise. Draco had never liked Ginny, as he thought she was after Harry, but now he found some new respect for her. She reacted a lot better than her brother. "Thank you Weaslette" Draco said. She gave him a small glare at the name calling, but smiled anyway. "Okay I don't understand a thing! Harry!!? How long has this been going on? And it can't have been long, since we've only seen him a couple of times the past year, and before that you were totally against him! I can't say I support this. I can support you being gay, but suddenly liking Malfoy... no..." The blonde Slytherin glared at the redhead. "Thanks Ron, for that, but you have to understand that me and Draco isn't a new thing. I love Draco and have loved him for a while. We've been together for let's see... 4... 4 and a half years now... wow. I didn't realize it was that long." He smiled at Draco. "4 AND A HALF YEAR?!?!AND YOU NEVER TOLD US! YOU ARE IN BIG TROUBLE MISTER!! WE'RE YOUR BEST FRIENDS AND YOU NEVER TOLD US?!?! YOU DIDN'T TELL ANYONE?!" Hermione shouts. "I'm sorry, but you would have reacted like this. Probably worse in school. And with Draco's father so close to Voldemort, he could have been killed if someone found out he was in love with me. And we did tell someone. Sirius knew... well, he found out by accident, but still. He accepted Draco pretty fast. They became friends." Harry told them. There was still a lot of questions, and a lot of judging. Hermione and Ginny accepted it, even though they weren't happy it was Draco. Neville was with them. Seamus and Dean have Harry a clap on the back and congratulated him, and came out too, as they had been together for a year. Ron still had problems and so had many others, but Harry brushed them all off him and dragged Draco with him to sit down at a table. There they sat holding each other close, mourning the people they lost that night, and celebrating they were together again. And now they didn't have to hide it. They could be together as much as they wanted. Now they could finally start their life together.

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