#[rift radio]

[rabbityfrogs]

Radio Free Telemachus

Recently started listening to The Strange Case of Starship Iris, and decided to draw my interpretation of the Radio Free Telemachus people :DD

Tis an amazing podcast, highly recommend listening to it if you have not already

[fordeadleaves]

paramnesia rules this world, so fake a smile! / take a shot, some scotch, i’ll see you at your trial

thinkin about a crossover au between lifesteal & one of our oc things (rift radio) recently. so um. take this

(reblogs > likes)

[hardcoregamer]

That said, these demos have to wow me to get here, either with fun gameplay, a unique aspect to them or just being cool style-wise. All of these are just my own opinions, though, so you really should dive into Next Fest and get a taste for all these demos yourself.

[bumblevoid]

had a randomidea while writing the outline for my long fic and now im just writing fictional sci fi police records. what happeneD--

[lesbianuhaulindustrialcomplex]

i dont wanna add this to the tags but my prev reblog was so my parents except my parents were stoners so it was with like. jimi hendrix and prog rock like yes and rush.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Oneohtrix Point Never Live Preview: 4/23, Metro, Chicago

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Synth-heads rejoice! Daniel Lopatin, aka experimental music producer Oneohtrix Point Never, brings his always stellar live show to Metro tonight. His most recent album is last year's Again (Warp), a reflective collection of aesthetics you wouldn't normally associate with OPN's spirituous electronica: shoegaze, alt-rock, prog. Then again, Lopatin similarly mashed together otherwise dissonant sub-genres on 2015's Garden of Delete, the nu metal entry in his vast and ever-expanding catalog. Lopatin's versatility is certainly one of the most impressive things about him, not just in his own work, but in his ability to elevate others, whether R&B star The Weeknd (Dawn FM) or indie rock luminary Soccer Mommy (Sometimes, Forever).

Technically, OPN has two new EPs listed this year on streaming services: Scores and Ambients. The former is a collective of songs from Lopatin's soundtracks to Sofia Coppola's The Bling Ring and the two Safdie brothers features he's scored, Good Time and Uncut Gems. The latter consists of six of OPN's more, yes, ambient-adjacent tracks, including the bookends of 2013's monumental R Plus Seven (with a shorter mix of the choral "Chrome Country" renamed "CC"), Again's "Gray Subviolet", the title track to 2018's Love in the Time of Lexapro EP, Replica's "Sleep Dealer", and the minute-and-a-half "Lovegirls Precinct", included on 2009 compilation Rifts but originally released as part of a split cassette with Cleveland drone duo Outer Space. Take the opportunity to listen to the songs anew, together; to my ears, that's always been the best way to experience Oneohtrix Point Never, finding resurfaced commonalities among the different stages of his brilliant career. And it's also how he'll likely play live, finding a cohesive set list by placing Zones Without People and Russian Mind songs next to Age Of and Magic Oneohtrix Point Never material.

The show is presented by CHIRP Radio. New York-based singer and modular synthesist Arushi Jain opens. Doors at 7:00 PM, show at 8. Tickets still available at time of publication.

[midsummer-semantics]

if the world was ending

Okay, I told myself I wasn't going to write anything for @steddieangstyaugust but apparently I lied (I'm sorry)

Here's for day 1: Second Chance

CW: Slight agoraphobia

[not posted to AO3 but you can find other things there.]

When the earthquake hits, he’d like to say he thinks about his parents first. That he wonders where they are and if they're safe or if they’d hear about it from wherever they are in the world. If they’d call to check on him, even though they never did before.

He'd like to say he thinks about Robin, who's two states away studying for a graduate degree in International relations and communication, and likely doesn't feel the ground moving beneath her feet like he does.

Hell, he'd like to say he thinks about the kids, but most of them are scattered themselves, starting college programs (Will, Mike, Dustin) or sports training camps (Lucas) or exploring the West Coast (Max and El).

No, Steve is alone in his big, empty house when it hits, and the only thing on his mind is that they were wrong. Indiana doesn't get earthquakes, so something else has to be afoot. Six years since they defeated Vecna, since everyone tried to move on with their lives while Steve stayed because that's what he does, he stays.

A touchstone Dustin had called him once. Something to do with foundation and a connecting center. Steve still thinks it might have just been him and the rest of the group trying to make him feel better about still being stuck in the same house, in the same town, doing nothing and going nowhere.

He's alone and he thinks 'This is it. What I've been waiting for.'

He has a 6-year-old emergency pack stored that should have more dust on it if it wasn't for the way he chronically checks it. His trusty bat and a duplicate he made just in case, plus the ax he used the last time, are all near enough to the door. He's not sure what the protocol is for earthquakes, having grown up in the Midwest, but he's pretty sure he's not supposed to be indoors, right?

It doesn't last very long, but it doesn't matter. A few seconds of the ground shaking and rolling beneath his feet are enough to jumpstart him into action.

He's gathering supplies, cursing himself for taking too long, when the phone in the kitchen rings.

He should ignore it, knows that whatever or whoever it is can wait until he's secured the area and alerted the cavalry that something is happening. It'll take days for people to get here and Steve thinks he might he able to hold off whatever's coming out of whatever rift has sprung up until then, but he doesn't have time to think about it too hard.

The phone rings off the hook as Steve takes too damn long to double-check that nothing is in the house before he even attempts to go outside, and Steve knows he can't just leave it. Not in case it's someone who's still in town who knows he's here: Mrs. Wheeler, Claudia, Jim or Joyce.

He nearly rips the cord out of the wall when he answers.

"Stevie?!" comes the frantic voice of the person he least expects to be on the other side.

"Eddie?"

"Steve, oh my god." He can hear Eddie panting. "Are you okay?"

It's the first time Steve's heard Eddie's voice in five years. Since Eddie made good on his promise to run like hell out of here, something he'd repeated to anyone who would listen until he finally did. Five years since Steve had realized he was halfway in love with him after saving the world and never got to say anything because he was a coward and Eddie was leaving anyway so what was the point?

He'd gotten one phone call when Eddie arrived in Denver and it's been radio silence since then. Truthfully, he couldn't blame the guy, but Steve had had... thoughts... feelings... probably brought on by end-of-the-world shit but nonetheless. And then Eddie just—

Vanished.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" he asks.

"We're good," Eddie replies, and only then does he hear the rough grumble of Eddie's uncle in the background, asking why Eddie's on the phone at nearly 3 in the morning.

"Earthquake, old man," Eddie shouts, still too close to the receiver for Steve's already damaged hearing.

Oh.

So, Eddie's in town. Cool. Steve had no idea. Doesn't know when Eddie got in or if he ever intended to tell Steve he was here at all. That's fine.

"Sorry, Stevie. Woke Wayne up. Shit— did I wake you up too?"

Steve swallows harshly, shaking his head even though Eddie can't see it. "No, I was already awake."

"Me too," Eddie replies. "Jet lag. Just got in a few hours ago. What a welcome home, huh?"

"Sure," Steve says, wondering what the point of this call is. "Look, I'm glad to hear from you, but I really need to—"

"Wait!" Steve shuts his mouth, his teeth clacking harshly. "It's fine. Everything is fine."

"Dude, there was an earthquake just now—"

"And it wasn't You-Know-What related," Eddie states, a bit of his franticness back in his voice. "They're leveling part of the plant for safety issues. Wanted to do it at night so no one would freak out." Steve cringes. Hawkins wasn't exactly magnanimous about the rebuilding efforts last time, but he doesn't go to city council meetings to hear about what the efforts might have been since then. "That's part of why I'm home. Wayne's got an extended leave until they sort out what else to do."

Steve sighs, dropping the emergency pack on the floor and leaning the ax he'd managed to grab against the wall. "Oh. Great. Wish they'd have told everyone else just in case."

"I know, sweetheart. But everything is okay."

Sweetheart.

Steve's actual heart skips a beat hearing that again.

"I'll be back, sweetheart. I promise."

"So... you're here then? In Hawkins?"

There's a beat of silence, some shuffling on the other end. "Well, yeah. I told you I'd come back."

"For your uncle."

"He's part of it."

Steve hesitates, hating himself for even considering getting his hopes up.

"And the other part?"

"My guy is here."

When the earthquake hit, he’d like to say he thought about his parents first.

No, he'd thought it was the end of the world. And above that, all he could think about was Eddie.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

Potential script idea for billy batson s radio show segment

The whizz radio intro tones-

Billy Batson then starts speaking through a slightly crackly radio as Fawcett is a city someone lost to time, given its connection to the Rock of Eternity.

---

Welcome to WHIZZ Radio: where we give the latest news, truths, and view in Fawcett City. Brought to you by your host, me, billy Batson.

Starting off with community news, make sure to visit the shrine of Atlas sometime this week with an offering. Cap mentioned that there might be a need for endurance next week, and we should all probably listen. Additional reminder, the festival of Zeus will be happening this Saturday. Stay away from odd looking geese, metal poles and don't fulfill any selfcrearting proficies in a fit of hubris.

Onto traffic!

Main Street and Fifth Avenue are both still under construction from Dr. Sivannas attack and the demon portal last Thursday and Friday. Ms. Marvel and Cap. both played a role in clearing the debris, but there are still major cracks and fissures to Hades. Expect delays.

Now the weather.

Today's forecast includes thick over cast clouds; a good time for summoning souls. Be sure to greet both the living in the dead while going about your day and don't for get that umbrella! There is a slight chance of curses with intermittent showers.

Alright! Time to quickly cover the Capes and Crooks news bulletin. Dr. Sivanna is still missing after his recent bout with Cap. Since he interrupted one of Mercury's races down at the track, no one is quite sure when the Roman god took him. If you happen to see him, please be sure to give Cap a ring to come pick him up.

Keep your eyes peeled for Mr. Mind. The worm escaped prison… again. Holy moly. You'd think they'd make better prisons for him. What is this, the fourth time in two weeks?

*Noise indistinct*

I know, I just figured that out listeners would likely have the same comment. I don't see why I shouldn't point it out of its true

*Indistinct noise again*

Alright! Fine. Moving on from that.

Today's radio broadcast is brought to you by Saturn's candy. Nothing so sweet as a stick of magic you can eat! Try their Caramel cookie candy bars, now with cooked in bloodline curse protect. If your looking for a spot of luck, try their cinnamon apply candy sticks. Saturn's candy. A proud sponsor of WHIZZ Radio!

*Little jingle*

Welcome back to the program. Time for our sister citys segment.

This reporter has just been told by his producers to issue an apology to Black Adam for statements said during this segment of yesterday's broadcast.

*An aside*

Do I have too?

*Indistinct noise*

Fine.

I am. Sorry. For calling you a craized up old fart with too much free time.

There.

Moving on!

Kahndaq currently is continuing negotiations with both the Justice League and the UN to gain a seat at the UN table. Or be allowed in the UN room. While Fawcett recognizes Kahndaq as sovereign, the rest of the world stills sees the country as illegitimate.

Aside from tense meetings, and Black Adam being a kook who keeps coming to mess with Cap due to having a grudge unbecoming of a literal king and ancient man child, Kahndaq is doing fine. The economy is flourishing, despite limited imports and exports due to sanctions. The letters sent by Fawcetts finest and kindest citizens were well received and we should hear back soon if Mercury has anything to do with it.

It's time once again for Billy's opinion of the day.

This week!

Cans and their many used.

Not only do cans offer one of the best ways to have long term storable food, but they also make awesome weapons! We got to see this on Friday when Marvel Jr. and Captain Marvel went toe to toe with demons using a barrage of cans. And the food was still good to eat after the fight!! I love it when things are multi purposed. Now if only they could close the rifts down to Hades…

*Chimes*

Oh! Mercury just dropped a fresh bit of mail! Thank you Mercury! Watch out for old men wandering around. It seems like the Greek and Roman gods are looking to bless and curse some folks today.

Do good, and good will follow.

And keep an eye on the sky for lightning!

This has been Billy Batson, signing off!

[broadwayfangirl222]

Ok so this photo implies that they used to be friends, but what was their dynamic like before this falling out? So I think they started out as friends. Obviously, probably initially bonding over both being creatives/performers/entertainers. They got even closer over time. To the point one of their store-fronts were pretty much connected:

In Stayed Gone you see one of Vox's stores literally next to what you can assume is Alastor's because of the mic and radio but also the boarded up sign labeled "Old Crap" over the original name (Vox probably had that done after their falling out or in the 7 years Alastor was gone)

As time went on, Vox started to change. He became more and more obsessed with remaining in the spotlight no matter what and profits over any kind of actual integrity when it comes to running a business/deals made.

Say what you want about Alastor, but he's been relatively honest whenever we've seen him try to make deals. He doesn't promise or offer anything he can't deliver on. At most he'll probably use technicalities and loopholes the other person accidentally put in the deal with him. Like a messed up genie or a monkey's paw kind of situation where your own words get twisted and used against you.

Meanwhile, Vox literally advertised a product he didn't even know he could actually make. He waited until AFTER the announcement to even begin R&D on the idea:

You can argue he kinda had a basic proof of concept since the Vees knew about the dead angel already but I personally wouldn't. And that's not even going into the hypnosis he does to people. Imagine how he is with making deals over souls? So between these shady practices and him always "Flitting between this fad and that" this is probably where the rift between them began. Professionally/as overlords, Alastor began seeing Vox as a sellout who takes the easy route with no finesse to it.

Then Vox's business proposal happened. On Vox's end, well, he caught feelings™ plus working with Alastor would be good for his whole business too. Like back then he just pictured having what he has now with Valentino, just with Alastor: Being business partners and partners™

And Alastor who already has major issues with how Vox conducts himself as a business man/overlord, and now dealing with this personal angle his aroace ass definitely can not handle, basically responded with his iconic "Ha!...No!" (and kinda mixed with Charlie's panicked "fuck NOOO!")

And that's how their strained dynamic fully fell apart, Vox got angry and bitter he was rejected, then it turned to full blown rivalry

[lucienwrites]

The Monster Keeper - Chapter 2

-NSFW-continuing your checks on the new monsters at the zoo you find yourself face to face with a minotaur- breeding kink- oral- size difference- 844 Words

You approached the next enclosure, excited to see what other creatures your coworkers had brought back from the rift. At the same time you felt wary, it could be pretty much anything and you were too far away from the public section of the zoo for help to reach you in time. You took a deep breath, praying that whatever it was it wasn’t angry, and opened the door. Your heart leapt to your mouth as you saw the great hulking shape shadowed against the wall. You grabbed the handle, ready to run, when you heard a deep, bellowing voice.

“I’m hungry.”

Taken aback you didn’t respond.

“Didn’t you hear me?” the voice, while powerful, didn’t sound threatening. “I said, I’m hungry.” The shape took a few slow steps towards you, into the light of the doorway. You couldn’t help but gasp. Towering over you there stood the form of a man, broad shouldered, hairy chested and rippling with muscle, but his head was that of a bull. The minotaur bent down to look at you more closely and you felt his warm breath against your skin.

“Um-“ you tried to speak but it was hard to get the words out “hi, my name is (name), I’m here to look after all the creatures from the rift.”

He looked confused, “Then, why am I hungry?” there was a look of genuine concern in his deep brown eyes.

“I’m sorry I only just got here, I’ll get you some food as soon as I can I promise.”

His stomach let out a deep rumbling sound. “Back home the cow-hybrids would feed me three times a day… and they milked me too”

“milked you?... oh!” the realisation made your cheeks flush

“but now my stomach is empty and my balls are full.” He complained.

“oh… well…” You remembered your boss’s words on the radio earlier, *Just keep them happy, I don’t care how you do it.* You felt your body begin to ready itself as you noticed the prominent bulge barely covered by a loin cloth. “Perhaps, I could help?”

His nostrils flared and you quickly found yourself pressed against the cold hard wall as the minotaur tore off your clothes, his excitement pressing against you.

“I don’t think it will fit there..”

“it will!” he insisted, ramming his tip against your tight entrance.

“Here,” you smiled, realising you could enjoy this, “Try using your fingers first, or your tongue if you like.”

These ideas seemed entirely new to him, “Like this?” he pushed his finger inside you, causing you to let out a soft moan of pleasure. Even his fingers were bigger than anything you’d ever had.

“Mm just like that.”

“And then my tongue?” You gasped as his warm, wide tongue slid between your legs, god he felt so good. The bull couldn’t stand it any longer, your taste almost overcoming him, and his time when he slammed his huge cock into you it fit. But only just. He bellowed as he fucked you into the wall, thrusting his full length into your soft folds, stretching you so you were ready to take his seed. But it still wasn’t enough. He pushed you onto all fours and mounted you, your human pussy tight around his huge girth as he bred you. Trembling you felt yourself getting close, and suddenly a rush of warmth spread through you as you heard the minotaur roar your name, his cum filling you as your body shook.

Panting he sat slumped against the wall, watching his “milk” dripping down your legs. You sat next to him, still trembling.

“Do, they really milk you every meal?” you asked between shaky breaths.

He nodded, “You people don’t do that? How do you tend to your bulls?”

You laughed “We don’t, do you really just sit around all day while the cows take care of you??”

“Well, I’m the only bull in our herd, so I just get used for breeding.”

“oh I see… will you need milking when I bring you your food too?”

He nodded. “You’re going to look so pretty when you’re carrying my calves,” He looked so happy but you knew you would have to tell him

“Actually I can’t have children,”

“oh…” his face fell

“But maybe we could find another pretty mother for them!”

At this a twitching below his loin cloth caught your eye.

“Again? Already?” He proudly shifted the cloth out of the way to display his erect shaft to you. “Wow, I’m going to have my hands full with you,” you laughed and gave him a quick kiss on the nose. “I really need to go and check on everyone else, I’ve been in for almost an hour already and I’ve only got to two of you! Oh but before I go, what food would you like me bring you?”

“fruit, lots of sweet, juicy, ripe fruit…”

“Alright, I’ll be back later to give you as much fruit as I can find! And to milk you again of course.”

“I’ll be waiting.” He stared after you as you left, already excited to spend more time with you.

[halfway-house-in-hell]

charlie redesign!

+her gf 😁

(image id in alt text)

im not good at jotting down my thoughts so forgive me if this sounds weird

-she's a doll. she was created by her father lucifer as a gift for her mother, lilith, because lilith could not conceive a child naturally. lilith did not like this, and resents charlie and her father, causing a rift in their marriage. charlie feels responsible for this rift, and tries to help them reconnect to little success.

-the whole doll thing helps explain why noone takes her seriously. they dont see her as a "real" demon or the "real" princess of hell, they see her as a weak little toy.

-she is far too trusting-which is why she takes a deal with the radio demon, a demon who is not at all trustworthy, and has a very thin skin. she feels like she needs to prove her worth to the hell, she wants her citizens to take her seriously.

-her hotel, set up to rehabilitate sinners, has free entry. she tried to get funding to build it from her father, but he denied it as he did not believe it would work. charlie's rehabilitation plan was not the most well thought out, and so she tends to freak out when things go even slightly wrong.

-in the first "series" the hotel does not official approval from heaven. they realise this is a problem when a sinner who is in the process of rehabilitation gets killed, and instead of respawing in hell they respawn at the gates of heaven. when the angels who guard said gates see this, they immediately send the demon back down and demand to know what is happening (this is the setup for the "second season)

-charlie truly believes that. a) all sinners can be redeemed, even the "truly evil ones" and b) that these sinners will have a better life in heaven, free from the annual genocide. she is unaware/only partially aware of heavens strict conservatism and deep hatred of sinners (i have more thoughts on how exactly heaven works but i dont wanna make this post any longer than it needs to be)

-she and v(im not calling her vaggie. might give her another name that starts with v) complete eachother. v is the only one who takes her seriously and believes in her hotel, and charlie is the only one v can confide in and truly trust. charlie is the bleeding heart to v's closed wound.

ok i think thats it if you read this far thank youu❤️❤️❤️

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

That evening, the older members of the Party make their way into a rift, one Nancy had found the first time and later told Steve about. They younger members stay in Steve’s house, safe. Each of the older members have a walkie-talkie, but the younger members only have two: a main and a backup.

Each of the older members also have a weapon. Nancy has the shotgun, which she’d been practicing with all afternoon. Steve has the nail bat, Robin has Molotov cocktails—and the means to make more should the occasion arise—Jonathan has a tire iron, and Eddie has a metal bat.

They make their way into the rift, Steve going first and Jonathan bringing up the rear. “We need to stay together as much as we can,” Steve murmurs. “Depending on the state they’re in, we may have to split up. If we do, Nancy, Jonathan and Robin, you stay with Barb. Get her out of here as fast as you can and in the car. Don’t unlock the doors for anything or anyone besides us, got it?”

Nancy nods. “Got it,” Jonathan says.

Robin gives him a look, but knocks their shoulders together in acceptance. “Keys,” she murmurs, and Steve drops his car keys in her hand, squeezing her fingers for a second before releasing.

They find Barb first, nearly unconscious and shivering, tucked into some trees.

Nancy runs to her, shoving the shotgun into whoever’s closest, meaning Eddie almost falls over as he tries to grab it.

He turns to Jonathan. “Can you shoot?”

Jonathan looks dubiously at the gun. “No.”

Eddie smirks and hands him the metal bat. “Then I think this might work better.”

As soon as Nancy reaches Barb, something in the trees behind them growls. Nancy whips her head up, looking into the trees, then turns to look at everyone else, a question clear in her eyes.

“Eddie,” Steve murmurs, not taking his eyes off the trees. “You can shoot?”

Eddie pumps the slide, checks the safety isn’t on, and widens his stance. “Just tell me what to shoot.”

Steve grimaces. “You’ll know when you see it.”

With that, he advances towards the trees, taking measured steps. He reaches Nancy and Barb, helps hoist Barb up, and slowly, they make their way back towards the group.

They get about halfway before Robin gasps, and Steve immediately shoves Barb onto Nancy, spinning around with his bat up and ready.

He’s just in time. A demogorgon crashes through the trees, heading straight for them. He hears Eddie yelp, a high, panicked, “What the fuck?” but he can’t focus on that, just swings his bat when the creature gets close enough.

A second later, the shotgun goes off, and the demogorgon’s head is gone.

Steve stands for a second, looking around, listening for anything else, but that seems to be it. He helps Nancy with Barb again and together they make their way back to the group. “She’s not gonna make it all the way to Will,” Steve says. “Jon, come take her from me. Get them safe to the car, alright?”

Jonathan nods and steps forward, mouth a thin line.

Steve turns to Nancy. “Do you want the gun back? Will you be able to react in time and shoot them?”

Nancy bites her lip, thinking, then shakes her head. “The cocktails,” she says. “As long as we have those…”

Robin steps forward and nods. “I gotcha.”

Jonathan hands Nancy the metal bat and situates Barb so he’s carrying her piggyback-style, with his tire iron helping to support her weight.

Steve takes a breath. “Alright. Get back safe. Robs, you’ve got the walkie?”

She nods. “I’ll radio if we need anything, but we’ll be fine, okay? Get Will and get out.”

Steve nods and pulls out his own walkie as they separate. “Home base, Barb is secure. We’re splitting up now, Eddie and I are going to find Will. We need directions.”

The walkie crackles to life. “Where’d you find her?”

Steve looks around, desperate for a landmark. Eddie puts a hand on his arm, grabs for the walkie talkie. “We’re about two miles east of Skull Rock.” He shrugs when Steve stares at him. “I spent a lot of time in the woods growing up.”

“Got it,” the walkie-talkie says. “Lucas says head north. We’ve got El tracking you, we’ll let you know when to turn.”

They head north, keeping an eye out for anything else. “So you said last time… bats get me?”

Steve nods. “The kids call them demobats. Ugly little fuckers with long tails that they use to wrap around your throat, arms, legs… whatever they can get. Razor-sharp teeth.”

Eddie sighs. “You mean to say I get eaten by bats and don’t turn into a vampire?”

Steve laughs. “Unfortunately, no. Otherwise I don’t think we’d be here.”

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[system-architect]

labtechnist rozz, multi-talented all-in-one forensic scientist, hacker, synergetics and dynamics dual graduate, professional trespasser, and host of the 'cubecast' and publication tyrian enigma, which features rozz's own in-depth research and exposition on everything unsolved & mysterious in tyria-- cryptids, government conspiracies, extra-dimensional beings, unexplained phenomena, cold cases, you name it.

despite his strange interests, he's exceptionally good at everything he does, although of course not so good that he's ever managed to hack into the arcane eye's internal databases and got chased down by them and threatened to choose between being hired by them "or else" and so now he's working as a multidisciplinary forensic lab tech for the eye. ahaha. that'd be crazy if it were true.

bonuses under the cut! yay!

i cant stop drawing him on scrap paper at work 🧍

you get bonus trivia since you made it this far:

he loves horror movies, science fiction novels, and tabletop games

he is plex's ex-boyfriend. their individual psyches poked at each other's various issues and they had a sort of explosive breakup

he lives in the same carrier (trailer) park as kai. kai doesn't know him personally but knows him as Antennas Guy bc rozz's carrier is decked out like something out of the milkman conspiracy psychonauts level. conversely, rozz knows kai as Jogger Guy

his not-a-podcast is actually fairly popular. he relishes his niche internet micro celebrity status. he wants to write a book

he got started down this path at a young age bc his father was super into mystery/action novels and radio(??) dramas and transferred the love to him. later on he experienced + survived a sort of mists rift anomaly event that his brain has interpreted as an alien encounter and it has driven him batshit that no one else believes what he saw

he's something like pansexual demiromantic and his gender is somewhere between 'loosest possible sense of cis' and 'whatever'. he accepts whatever pronouns your brain chooses to assign him and feels he has bigger fish to fry. (like the loch jext monster.)

[buckyclevens]

phantom touch by me (aka burglarbilbo on ao3)

summary: set post-stalag-fight. john egan has some intricate rituals.

Gale’s fist stings and John knows he means it.

He pushed and pushed and Gale finally pushed back.

He sulks in his own bunk, letting the feeling of Gale’s fist on his face linger. John thinks about getting a wet rag or something to press against his reddening nose, but decides against it. In his lap, his hands shake lightly. He can still feel the phantom touch of Gale grabbing his legs and pushing and pulling at him.

The news of D-Day had been quick to distract Gale and alleviate just an ounce of John’s own worry, but it did nothing to repair the rift John feels growing between them. He sighs, unable to shake the weightless emptiness in his chest.

The rest of the barrack files in and John glances at Gale as he walks in, catching his eye for half a moment before he has to look away. Something between shame and guilt stir in his chest, hot and icy.

Gale’s bunk lies empty; Gale sits at the table, working on putting finishing touches on his radio. It’s rare that John spends time in his own bunk, usually he’s taking over Gale’s, but when John had thought about sitting in Gale’s bed when all of them were ordered back into the barracks, something in him shot that idea down quickly.

He lets the feeling of Gale’s hands on him fade.

It’s not until after dinner when Gale comes to him.

He’s got the doc’s makeshift medkit tucked under his arm, a bowl of undoubtedly icy water in one hand and a hand rolled cigarette and lighter in his other hand. A peace offering.

“Hey there, Major,” Gale says.

John bites back something mean and venomous before it can leave his mouth. He looks away but sits up in bed, swinging his legs over the edge.

Gale pulls up a chair and sits next to the bed, close enough for his knees to brush John’s. John doesn’t meet his gaze, keeps staring down at where their knees brush, feeling the warmth of him through the thick fabric of their uniforms.

Gale places the cigarette and lighter on the bed next to John’s leg and wordlessly places the medkit in John’s lap before dabbing a cloth into the bowl of water and leaning forward. He takes John’s face in his hand, gently cupping his chin, and starts gently cleaning away the few drops of blood that had started to dry and crust on his upper lip.

John knows Gale can feel his jaw start to tremble and he still can’t look him in the eye, even this close to him — especially this close to him. Hands resting limply in his lap, John sits still as Gale cleans him up. His nose isn’t broken, Gale clearly pulled his punch during their scuffle, but it still smarts. It’ll bruise. John guesses it already is starting to. (He thinks he wants it to.)

“Sorry ‘bout this, John,” Gale says, voice soft, as if it’s just the two of them there.

John clenches his hands into fists in his lap to keep himself from reaching out and touching Buck the way he wants to, the way he needs to.

“We got to western Europe,” Gale says. “It won’t be like this forever.”

John swallows around the lump in his throat. He looks around, catches Demarco’s eye at the poker table before he looks away, then finally, John looks at Gale . The tightness in his chest pulses as he meets Gale’s warm gaze.

“Nine months,” he says quietly.

Gale looks at him.

“It’s been nine months since you’ve touched me,” his voice is barely above a whisper. Gale is still holding his chin in his hands, gentle, firm, and warm.

“John…”

He grabs Gale’s wrist all of a sudden, stops him from cleaning his face. He presses the pad of his thumb to Gale’s pulse. John has always known Gale to have rough hands, at home he worked with animals, at bootcamp anyone who came in with soft hands wasn't long for them , and here and now no one, least of all Gale has had leisure time for calluses and blisters to fade. Ever since they started this thing between them, John’s loved the feeling of Gale’s hands on him; his rough hands giving him the lightest, gentlest touches. Now, John will take whatever touch Gale will give him, even if he has to press for it.

The first time Gale touched him, just a half-joking caress of his cheek, John thought about it for days after, half thinking (half hoping) that his cheek was branded with Gale’s fingerprints. They’d been in bootcamp then, young and bone-tired; John had been halfway drunk but he remembers it all so vividly.

Now, John holds Gale’s wrist with a cautious tenderness. Everything around them fades away — the sound of the men playing poker, the freezing barracks, the damn stalag itself . It’s just them. John’s skin burns where Gale touches him — intense and familiar. John almost closes his eyes, starts to lean into it.

At the poker table, Brady cheers loudly, breaking the two of them out of their thoughts. Reality comes back around them. Buck looks away, back at the table, smiling in quiet congratulations.

“Bucky,” Gale says again, a slight warning. He takes his hand away from his face, letting John’s grip on his wrist drop. John doesn’t fight it.

A bitter smile stretches John’s mouth and he looks away, grabs the cigarette and lighter. His face throbs a bit more and he wishes he had ice to dull the pain. He lights up. The tobacco is a nice distraction from the fact that he wants to run and he wants to touch Gale and he wants to get the fuck out and he wants to —

“Bucky,” comes Gale’s voice. “It’s cold tonight, mind if I bunk here?”

“Sure, Buck,” he says. “Sure.” Because what else could he possibly say? Gale is trying, John can see that much, and he’s felt shitty all evening. Maybe the news about landing at Normandy does mean this will be over soon. The energy for hope is draining him and he doesn’t have it in him to push Gale away, at least no further than he already feels.

Lights out comes and goes.

John lies down, presses his back against the wall of his bunk, facing outward. He closes his eyes, letting the time pass, dull moonlight streaming through the grimy windows. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he feels his blankets shift and Gale crawl into his bunk. John opens his eyes and finds Gale’s soft face inches away. Gale smiles at him, small, mouth closed. He knows this smile well. He knows all of Gale’s smiles well.

Under the scratchy blanket, Gale reaches out and places his hand on John’s arm, squeezing gently.

“Hiya, Bucky,” Gale whispers.

John squeezes his eyes closed and reaches for Gale. He closes his hand around a fistful of fabric, pulling him close. Gale presses his lips to John’s forehead silently.

“I’m sorry, John,” Gale says. “We’re getting out of this.”

John nods. He’s heard this so many times, lately it’s seemed like Gale is always saying it to him. “I know,” John says, but he’s hard-pressed to believe it. He doesn’t have the energy to pick a fight and he doesn’t even really want to, not when he has Gale here like this.

“I’m serious,” Gale says, his lips against John’s face, breath warm on his skin. “You ‘n me, Bucky .” Another kiss. “John.”

Gale presses forward, wraps an arm around John , holding him close, pressing them together. John buries his face in Gale’s neck, breathes him in. His face aches with the phantom touch of Gale’s fist but this cuts through that noise; his neck is warm and soft and through all the grime and dirt he still smells like Gale.

“How are you like this all the time?” John says before he can stop himself.

A beat passes in silence between them.

“I don’t know any other way to be,” Gale says. “It’s you and me.”

John’s chest twists and he clings to Gale tighter. It’s the warmest he’s felt in ages.

“Yeah,” John says. “It is.” He shuts his eyes and wills his mind to be quiet, forcing himself to get lost in the way Gale holds him now. For the first time in months, John falls asleep peacefully, warm in Gale’s arms.

[multidimensionalsock]

A list of indie games that take you to weird places with weird vibes.

My favorite genre of video game, go to a weird place and meet other weird people while you explore the weird little world and learn about the meaning of life.

Truberbrook

A sci-fi set in 1960s Germany. Quantum physicist, Hans Tannhauser wins a lottery he quite determinedly, did not enter, to visit the tiny, strange, remote and rather dead town of Trüberbrook. On your first night you have your research papers stolen, meet a woman who insists on you going up the mountain with her, and get far more than you bargained for in terms of multidimensional, universe warping nonsense.

Night in the woods

Mae, and anthropomorphic cat, drops out of college to come back to live with her parents in her dying home town in the American rust belt, for reasons she refuses to explain. Here she discovers that not only has the town moved on from where it was when she was younger, but the people have too, and she's forced to battle with this as well as supernatural dreams about instrument players, and a town full of a range of weird people that feels just as alive as she does and have their own stories and lives.

eastward

After the world was threatened by a substance called 'miasma', the lasting human population hides in cities that offer some form of protection. Your main character finds himself a miner in a controlling and subterranean town, knowing nothing of the outside until he finds a mysterious girl and takes her in. You go from being the best, frying pan wielding miner, to getting kicked out of the town into the wider, post apocalyptic world, exploring the weird settlements of the outside and making friends with equally weird acquaintances.

oxenfree

A group of 5 teenagers take the last boat out to an old military fort for an overnight party on the beach. There are legends about the island, that sometimes you can pick up frequencies to radio stations that don't exist, and that is how you unwittingly open a ghostly rift tied to the islands past, your friends start disappearing, and you need to solve whats going on by exploring the island, and the frequencies in the old military tech that haunt it.

disco Elysium

You're a cop, or rather the closest this unpoliced area of revachol can call a cop. You're drunken, and a drug addict, and a body has been hung on a tree outside for the past week, threatening to start a civil war between corporate and unions and minor militias for the past week, beginning to rot. As a husk of your past, apparently accomplished self (though you cant remember that, you cant even currently remember your own name after the bender you went on) you need to try and solve the mystery, alongside your partner Kim. Along the way you can also decide to join a union, or a bootlicker, a drug addict, or wear some very questionable clothing while telling a woman her husband died, all while being fully narrated to by 24 weirdly talkative voices in your head.

Everybodys gone to the rapture

This is a town with no people, just an empty place with the stories of those that were. In the shopshire countryside a town exists where everyone has disappeared, only bright orbs to lead you around the valley, listening to telephones, radios and recordings, as well as the lights themselves morphing into their human counterparts, to show the past events that led to everyone disappearance, symptoms of illness, before eventually fading, unexplainably, into lights, an infection created by a none human entity, a 'pattern', which can travel from human to human. A look at the tangled lives of humans in the town, and eventually how they reacted to their quarantine and those around them vanishing.

[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins x Reader]

Part 6

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1&2- Initially set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. On it got a angsty. So much angst I can’t tag it all. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

Everything happened so fast.

One minute you were sat with Fred at Bill and Fleur's wedding reception, laughing and joking as you caught your breath after being twirled around on the dance floor for what seemed like hours and the next, you were running down Tottenham Court Road and fighting off death eaters in a grubby little café. Then came your long hideout at Grimmauld Place, the dangerous infiltration of the Ministry of Magic, Ron's splinching, his rest period and then eventual, rather dramatic departure, leaving you, Harry and Hermione to search for the remaining horcruxes alone.

The trio had told you all about the Horcruxes and the larger plan, leaving no detail left out as soon as you arrived back at Grimmauld Place, watching as you slipped through the protective enchantments unphased. So far you'd found very little except for Salazar Slytherin's real locket which had been a curse to you all, most notably you and Ron, who it seemed to effect the most.

Ron had become jealous and volatile as the months grew on, each and every time he would wear the repugnant locket. He obsessed over the radio he carried, listening with rapt attention to see if anyone of his family was listed amongst the missing or dead and would watch Harry and Hermione interact with a compulsive need, his jealousy and all consuming anger only creating a further rift amongst you all.

You had taken to the locket poorly, or rather the locket had taken poorly to you, finding that it seemed to attack the raw emotions inside of you, the grief and the longing, the doubts, like a dementor continually pulling at your bare soul. To pass the time, you had begun researching curses and the ability to heal after one had been stricken. Cursed limbs could not be restored, but there must have been something you could do, something that would make George return to normal again, so that he would love you once more. Restoring his ear in any way you could would make George love you again, it had to. It slowly sank into a desperate need for answers and accompanied by the locket's cruel effects, became an obsession that forced you to look into sheer darkness, dark magic and ancient methods that were outlawed for their questionable morality suddenly became interesting evidence that something could be done, no matter the price. There were two pieces of compelling evidence which led you to believe that you were on to something; one, that Severus had invented the curse and it had not been sanctioned nor recognised officially, therefore it could not be classified along with the other known curses and may be exempt from the rules. Secondly, that Voldemort had potentially been hit by the rebounded killing curse, if not the ancient magic of Lily's protection and he had managed to restore himself to strength. Harry had told you in great detail exactly what happened in the graveyard that night for Voldemort to restore himself and this only furthered your obsession, though you hid it well from the others, researching as you sat on watch, guarding you all from the ever-present threat.

The months you'd been gone had been filled with camping out in the cold wilderness, flitting from place to place, foraging for food and water, hiding from the ever present threat of death eaters and learning to live without the two men you loved most in the world.

Then came the haunting memory of Christmas Eve in Godric's Hollow and the events that followed with Nagini inhabiting the deceased Bathilda Bagshot's body, the memories of that night still giving you night terrors and leaving lingering effects on your mind, the trauma imprinted upon you. The day had been one of absolutely agony for you already, feeling the full effect of being away from your boyfriends, missing them with a devastating desperation, feeling near the end of your nerve, towing the line between doing the right thing and persevering or returning home to them. Seeing the twinkling Christmas lights, hearing the carols being sung by a choir only hurt you more, knowing this would be the first Christmas you would be away from almost everyone you loved.

During the attack, you'd been severely injured in the skirmish, bitten by Nagini on the shoulder as you leapt to Harry's defence upstairs having discovered the blood and decay in the room downstairs, the sickening sight and the smell of the room still lingering in your mind months on, turning your stomach at the very thought. Nagini had kept it's fangs lodged deep into your shoulder as you were dragged down the hole in the stairs during the skirmish, wrapped tightly in the giant trunk of their body, the fangs ripping at your skin and tail thrashing onto you as you fell. You'd only just broken free from Nagini's hold when Hermione cast the Blasting curse which had no doubt saved your life and had managed to co-apparate with you to safety just before Voldemort arrived.

Antidotes and dittany had done nothing as you writhed in sheer agony, your pale, sweat covered skin burning from the inside out. The skin around the bite was quickly turning black and burned with an intensity even fiendfyre couldn't replicate. After numerous hours of Hermione frantically trying to rid you of your torment did you make the decision to manually extract the venom, an archaic method of healing that was dangerous in the best of circumstances, something you'd only read about in restricted apothecary books.

Using one of the empty vials you kept in your bag, you instructed Harry to manually smash it so that it was only half the length, sharp sharps of glass where it had broken creating a serrated edge. The glass tube was inserted into the enflamed wound to create a vacuum, making you scream in complete agony. An incantation like charm needed to be performed repeatedly with precision, demanding intense concentration and a steady hand. Hermione had tried over and over, as had Harry, but nothing happened.

"Think of Fred and George, they need you," Harry had said through misted eyes, rubbing tears away with his sleeve, trying desperately to place your wand into your trembling, blood soaked hand.

Hermione was crying both out of desperation to heal you and devastation that she was unable to perform the extraction herself as you closed your eyes to focus, trying your hardest to ignore the pain and centre yourself, just as you had that night with George.

You thought of Fred, his boisterous laugh and wicked grin, his passionate kisses and his lingering touches. You thought of George and his slow, sweet kisses that could calm you and rile you up all with one meaningful peck, his shy smile and his sweet, autumny smell that comforted you like no other. Only when you'd centered yourself did you move your wand to point at the ruptured, nausea-inducing wound and began to carry out the incantation. You repeated it over and over, each time getting stronger as you forced yourself to think of your boyfriends, of the good times and the memories. Your thoughts surrounded you like fog, taking over everyone of your senses until it was all you could think of, the pain either lessening or just becoming less prominent as you watched the wound drain.

Black, almost iridescent liquid flowed into the vial slowly, gathering together in a move that defied gravity as it permeated out of your skin in droplets. The skin around the wound was slowly turning back to its usual hue, if not just more aggressively sore looking as every bit of venom drained out from your shoulder. When no more venom came out, you stopped the incantation and almost immediately collapsed onto the floor, losing consciousness out of sheer exhaustion and pain. When you came to a little while later, Hermione had wrapped up your wound and had cast a myriad of pain relieving spells in the hope that your excruciating discomfort would come to an end.

"Well it's safe to assume that the snake is definitely a Horcrux too," you'd muttered weakly, accepting a drink of water into your trembling hands from Harry who also looked rather traumatised by the whole ordeal. You'd have a gnarly scar, even with the use of dittany. The healing only went so far and nothing you did would make it close up completely, the jagged, prominent scars still red and painful, a fluctuating mixture between aching and burning under the wound on the worser days. You'd kept the venom in a fresh vial, storing it for purposes you couldn't explain, perhaps it could be used to restore George. This little fact, you kept hidden from the others.

Ron had returned not too long after that, finding his way back to you all using the deluminator that Dumbledore had gifted him, making you realise that your own gift must be his way of telling you something, though you could never work out what he intended for it.

You'd studied your gift countless times, repeating the curious words that magically engraved themselves across the black device, the very words that didn't make any sense to you no matter how long you studied them. You'd not even noticed the words in the beginning but had found out later that the words only appeared when you thought of a happy memory. Purely by coincidence, you'd noticed a pattern in when they would appear, experimenting on the others to test your theory and eventually received the same results.

"Maybe Dumbledore expected you to be unhappy if you joined us, knowing you'd be away from Fred and George. Maybe it's his way of telling you to stay positive," Ron said late one night, both of you sat outside the tent on watch. "I reckon he knew I'd leave and need to find my way back." You sighed, not finding his excuse plausible. Surely it had to be more than that. You closed your eyes and thought of the Yule ball, dancing with Fred and George, both of them intercepting the other trying to steal you back and forth as you were dragged and lifted like a rag doll between the boisterous pair. You opened your eyes, keeping the memory alive in your mind as you watched the words appear on the lebetum.

Expecto Dominum Meum

"Hermione," you called out, into the tent, hearing her rustle towards you. "Do you have anything about Latin in your books?"

"Oh, um, no I don't think I have," she says with a frown, cataloging her inventory in her mind as if she could mentally picture each book and it's contents.

"Is it a spell?" Ron says, looking at the words.

You shook your head, "I tried that. Maybe if we could translate it?"

The night drew on and you kept watch, feeling far too frustrated by the complex device in your mind that you couldn't sleep even if you wanted to, the answer so close it was niggling at you. Everyone else had gone to sleep and the night was still in a calming way, leaving you completely to your thoughts.

You pulled out your wand, trying something new and closed your eyes, conjuring up a strong memory of Fred and George. The first time they told you they loved you. Opening your eyes you fixed your gaze upon the lebetum and spoke the words clearly.

"Expecto Dominum Meum!"

Nothing happened. Until you looked at the lebetum.

Inside the frosted glass was a moving spirit like image, like a ghost moving through mist or fog, slowly becoming clearer with each second. A doe. Was it a patronus? Trapped inside the lebetum? It wasn't yours, your patronus was a Weasel, an ironic twist you'd discovered in your later years of education with Dumbledore's Army.

The doe turned to look directly towards you, as if it was really seeing you, looking expectantly at your face.

You repeated the words in a spell like manner but nothing happened.

"Expecto Patronum!" You called, still thinking of Fred and George, trying everything you could.

Immediately a blinding white light lit up out of your wand and brandished itself into a weasel, running around and illuminating the dark sky. Your eyes widened when the doe deer appeared beside your Weasel, dancing around eachother. But then the deer began to slowly walk away, casting a singular glance back towards you as if gesturing for you to follow. You immediately called out for Ron and Harry and that is exactly how you discovered the sword of Gryffindor trapped in the ice, which in turn, allowed Ron to finally destroy the locket.

After that came the Lovegood house and the outlandish mess that lead you straight into the arms of a pack of snatchers, including Fenrir Greyback, who took you to Malfoy Manor, the house of horrors as it turned out. Bellatrix had held nothing back as she tortured you and Hermione, trying to drag information out of you both, though Hermione endured more and worse punishment than you due to her blood status. You'd been beaten, sliced with a dagger and forced to endure the cruciatus curse as Fenrir prowled around you menacingly, waiting for his chance to take a bite out of you any chance he could. Only when you were thrown back into the dungeon below with Ron, Harry, Luna, Ollivander and Griphook, did you begin to cry, not allowing your abusers to see you break down.

You wanted Fred and George, you needed them desperately. You pulled out your lebetum, having concealed it in your jacket pocket upon your arrival at Malfoy Manor and tried your hardest to focus on something happy, though it was hard to focus through the pain and anguish. You thought of the three of you at the lake beside the Burrow; the first summer you were officially together, a summer full of kisses, pranks and laughter.

A thought occurred to you and you weakly walked over to Mr Ollivander, hoping he might have an answer, knowing he was a well studied man. He was weak and frail, looking older than ever through his torment.

"Mr Ollivander, do you speak Latin?" Talking was hard as blood filled your mouth, the evidence of Bellatrix's abuse so clearly displayed across your face. He gives a little weak nod, his eyes filled with sorrow as he looks at your bruised and swollen lip. "Could you translate this for me, please?"

You hold out the lebetum for him to take and sense Harry and Ron moving closer, trying to listen in to the quiet conversation.

"You were professor Snape's potions assistant were you not? I recognise you from Diagon Alley," he says with a squint. You nod, trying not to wince at the sudden pain shooting through your head at the movement.

"Yes sir," you confirm, suddenly feeling very conflicted by the information, "my boyfriends own the joke shop there." He makes a noise of understanding, as if he pieces all the information together before looking down at the Lebetum.

"What is this?" He asks curiously, rolling the item in his hand as he inspects it.

"A lebetum, Dumbledore bequeathed it to me in his will," you explain, sounding not so sure yourself. He lets out a chuckle at your words and you frown, consfused by his reaction.

"Expecto Dominum Meum," he says wistfully, "I await my master."

You stood in silence, more confused than ever.

"Are you sure?" Harry asks from behind you, evidently as confused by the translation. Ollivander thankfully takes no offence to Harry's question and simply nods, his eyes glancing over the words once more.

Later, you and Harry whisper amongst yourselves, trying to figure out what it meant as Ron clings to the bars, desperately looking up the stairs to catch sight of Hermione after everything had gone quiet, her screams ceasing.

"Your master is a doe?" He asks, thinking of the patronus that had burst out of the lebetum that night.

"Yes but my patronus is a Weasel, it doesn't make sense."

"It's risky but we could summon the patronus doe again, of course they'd see the light though."

"You're Kreacher's master, do you think it would summon him if you did it?" You ask quietly, taking the words written on the device literally, though you fear you already know the answer. Harry shakes his head, knowing it was too dangerous. Kreacher may have come around to you all eventually but he was still loyal to the Black family so it was a risk you couldn't take.

"It led us to the sword, it might lead us out, like a guide," he whispers and you nod along, thinking the same thing.

You close your eyes and dive deep into your mind, thinking of your happiest memories of the twins and recite the words. Sure enough, the doe's face appears in the frosted glass.

"Expecto patronum!" You say, trying to remain quiet but speak clearly.

Any hope you had crashes down around you the second no light shines from the lebetum, the spirit like image of the doe seeming to walk away into the distance. You turn to Harry and sigh in defeat, sinking lower into the cold ground as despair overcomes you.

You'd managed to escape Malfoy Manor by the skin of your teeth when Dobby had arrived only minutes later in a heroic and spectacular manner. As you all disapparated away to the safe house, Dobby was fatally wounded and died in Harry's arms from the blade that Bellatrix had thrown. Just before his death, Dobby had informed you in a weak voice that his boss was right, Harry Potter and his friends needed Dobby's help. He died amongst friends in Harry's arms and you'd all laid him to rest in the beautiful beach at Shell Cottage and planned to make him a fitting gravestone out of the large rocks.

Seeing Bill was like finding a freshwater stream in the desert. You supposed it was the familiarity of him, or maybe his familiar red hair that set you off but the moment you saw him, you flung yourself into his arms heaving out a sob. He seemed to immediately understand, and pulled you in to him, holding you tight until you were ready to pull away. His face contorted in displeasure as he looked at your beaten, swollen face and the cut across your cheek and then turned to the rest of the group with equally sorrowful glances. Fleur embraced you delicately but with a conviction that you'd never felt before, which you assumed was deep rooted.

Ollivander and Griphook had been immediately tended to as Bill prepared a hot meal for you all, delicious vegetable soup and warm bread, a far cry away from the pitiful meals you'd been eating on the run. You and Fleur had helped tend to Hermione's wounds, most notably the 'mudblood' script that had been carved into her arm. It would undoubtedly scar but with the help of dittany and a mixture of potions you had left, the pain would stop and there'd be no chance of infection. Fleur had then turned to you but you refused any help, preferring instead to go lay down for a while.

The room was simply decorated with nautical flares and the large springy mattress and soft sheets felt like heaven on earth as you rested your head, months of exhaustion and pain seeping out of you as you finally allowed yourself to let your guard down and relax.

You'd been awake for a few minutes, staring mindlessly out of the window from the bed and clutching hold of the jumper you'd stolen from the twins which you'd taken to using as a makeshift blanket. The jumper had long since stopped smelling like them but the soft woolly texture was familiar and comforting all the same as you picked at the stitching, feeling vulnerable and overwhelmed, especially now you were safe. A gentle knock sounded out, alerting you to someone at the door and after a few moments of silence, the door crept open to reveal Bill. He'd brought a small tin bowl filled with water which looked like a muggle shaving accessory and placed it on the bed beside you, armed with cotton balls.

"I know, I was the same," he says, taking a seat upon the bed beside you, gesturing to his own facial scars. "Didn't want anyone to see them, thought I could do it myself." You understood why he was saying this, and the meaning behind it and reluctantly nodded, allowing him to help you as you sat up a little straighter in bed.

The elephant in the room was all consuming and it felt like you both knew exactly what was causing the tension but neither of you knowing how to stop it or what to say, the common denominators between you not yet mentioned. Bill takes one look at the jumper in your hands, then to you and smiles softly, dipping the cotton ball in water before bringing it to your left eyebrow.

"They're okay," he says quietly, concentrating on removing the dried blood from your face. "They understand why you had to go." Your eyes flick down to look at your lap, guilt consuming you anew. "They're lost without you but they keep themselves busy with Potterwatch, Fred mostly."

You remembered connecting to the Wizarding Wireless Network some months ago and finding enormous comfort in hearing Lee's familiar voice through the crackling signal. When Fred's voice rang through the speaker after Lee announcing the next segment of news of the chief death eater, you thought you were hallucinating. You'd checked to see that you weren't holding the locket, like it would play a cruel trick on you like that but it was real, not just in your mind. You'd laughed and cried in utter joy at hearing his smooth voice again and as soon as it disappeared and moved on to the next segment announced by Lee, you'd sobbed in utter misery right through the night. Your obsession with the radio after that matched Ron's, desperate to hear Fred's voice again but by the time you'd moved on, you could never connect to it again.

"They're worried about you, we all have been. Mum's a wreck most days, dad acts strong for everyone but you can see it in his eyes. Ginny's reckless, though I'd wager she's more worried for Harry than Ron," he says with a huff, reaching fir a new cotton ball, "and the twins, they just want you back."

"Even George?" You ask timidly, voice cracking a little as you think of how you left things between you.

"Especially George," he says with a determine shake of his head, "they don't tell me much but you can see it in him, especially when you first left, he looked devastated, guilty even." You wince at Bill's word and he suddenly realises he might have said too much.

"Sorry, older brother, tendency to overstep," he jokes with a smile.

"They can't know I'm here, not yet," you say, though it pains you to do so. He nods in understanding. That was something you admired about Bill, he was a man of his word and didn't question things further when it was unnecessary, a stark contrast to his mother.

He then pulls out his wand and mutters a spell that causes you to gasp, feeling your swollen lip contracting though the pain only lasts a second.

"That's probably going to scar," Bill says hesitantly, looking at the slash across your cheekbone. You nod, already accepting your fate. "Is there anything else?"

You quickly shake your head, not quite feeling strong enough to talk yet. He looks at you for a moment and you can tell he's not convinced, causing you to sigh.

"Can you numb something for me?" You ask reluctantly, trying to avoid eye contact as you sit embarrassed by what he was going to see. He nods and his gaze flicks across you like he's trying to work out what you're asking of him.

You bring your arm up delicately, the wound still tender even so far on, the broken skin and muscles never healing right. It caused you pain daily, especially when it was cold and as hard as you tried you could never complete a numbing spell on the right area. Slipping out of your jumper, you winced as your arm bent a little too far for comfort. You unbuttoned one of the front buttons on your long sleeve T-shirt and began to peel the collar away from your neck, slowly exposing your disgusting shoulder to him.

You watched as his face contorted into something you couldn't register, expecting disgust or revulsion but instead his look was tender and tormented. You slid your bra strap down, careful not to expose anything you didn't want your boyfriends' brother to see and allowed him to look at the raised, jagged marks on your shoulder that hadn't healed nearly as much as it should have.

"How?" Bill asks quietly, his eyes fixated on the wound.

"Voldemort's snake," you said, trying not to relieve the memory of that night, knowing you wouldn't sleep that night if you did. He doesn't say anything else but simply points his wand at your shoulder and completes a strong numbing spell, right on the spot that burns the most.

"You're the toughest witch I know," he says with a prideful chuckle, replacing his wand back into his pocket. You huff out a laugh with a shake of your head, covering yourself back up. Bill helps you put your jumper back on and remains standing as he incinerates the blood soaked cotton balls. "I'll bring you some tea, get some more rest tough girl."

"Bill," you say, stopping him from walking out. He turns to you in question and you quickly add, "thank you."

"You're family," he says, as if he's staying an obvious fact before giving you a tight lipped smile and walking out the door.

After resting up at Shell Cottage for quite some time, giving Hermione plenty of time to work through her trauma, a plan had been made to break into Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts after she'd unwittingly stated to Griphook that there was a prized possession in her vault, which you all knew was most likely a Horcrux.

The Gringotts plan was dangerous to another level, more so than infiltrating the ministry as the world seemed to have changed in the space you'd been gone, the threat and danger increasing tenfold as the death eaters claimed more and more supporters out of fear. You'd painstakingly brewed a batch of Polyjuice Potion during your time at Shell Cottage, along with a few other potions you might need to replace your inventory that had been used whilst you'd been away. The plan had been doomed from the very beginning, with Griphook being an unreliable ally, Polyjuice, Imperius curses, Flagrante and Gemino protection curses and a previously unknown and unplanned for Dragon guarding the lower vaults.

Thanks to Hermione's quick but insane thinking, you'd all managed to escape on the back of the half blind and antagonised dragon with Hufflepuff's cursed cup in your possession.

Your new destination was secured the moment you all dragged yourselves out of the freezing cold water after dismounting the dragon. Harry'd had a vision about the location of the next Horcrux, a suspicion we'd had all along that Voldemort had hidden a part of his soul in the castle.

You were going back to Hogwarts.

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