#this dark side of dean is rarely discussed i find it odd how people who worship him don’t see it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years ago

Text

An Orwellian Nightmare

PART THIRTY-SIX OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: discussions of parent death, teenage drinking, anxiety, and depression, please read with caution, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 6K

Summary: Ella and Jess go to Rory's graduation party, then return to the bridge.

A/N: The descriptions of depression in this chapter and in this fic are based on research and my own experiences. Everyone is different. If you need to talk, I am always here.

“The door itself is worth more than everything we own.” Jess gawked at the large mahogany door of the famed Gilmore house.

“Welcome to the realm of the one percent,” Ella replied, smirking as they stood hand-in-hand facing the entryway. Beyond it, she could hear the faint sound of classical music and polite chatter. “I don’t hate it, though. It’s got kind of a Great Gatsby thing going on, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But I think it’s more like Dracula.”

“Hm,” she nodded, lifting her eyes to see the pillars on either side of the door. “Wuthering Heights?”

“Oh yeah,” Jess agreed. “That sounds right.”

“Get ready, then, Heathcliff,” Ella quipped, ringing the doorbell.

Jess scoffed. “Ready as I can be, Catherine.”

Not more than a moment later, the door swung aside to reveal a woman in a maid’s outfit in the sprawling foyer. Behind the maid, there were groups of well-dressed people, mostly older, milling about with martini glasses in their hands, sugar on the rims. Though she couldn’t quite be sure, Ella thought it was Mozart playing from somewhere farther inside, live on a piano. It sounded fine, but she had always preferred Beethoven. The lesser of two evils, she had taken to calling him. Before even stepping beyond the threshold, she could see at least two chandeliers gleaming in the yellowish lights. She tugged Jess along by the hand, stepping up and into the house.

“Good evening,” the maid said.

“Hi,” Ella said, smiling at the small woman with black hair and dazzling brown eyes. “This is Rory Gilmore’s graduation party, right?”

Jess chuckled behind her. They’d gotten a bit lost on the way up to Hartford. The plan had originally been to follow Luke’s truck, but he had decided against going at the last minute. He wasn’t sure if Lorelai would really want him there. Instead, they had followed the less than legible directions Luke scribbled on one of the diner napkins. Luke rarely remembered street names, using mostly landmarks. The drive would have been easier if it wasn’t already near dark by the time the party started.

“Yes, ma’am,” the maid answered formally, holding a hand out to Ella. “May I take your bag?”

Furrowing her brows, Ella looked down at her large black purse, the only one she owned, and then back up at the woman. She hadn’t been expecting such a question, instead thinking she’d either carry it with her or stumble upon a coat rack somewhere. “Oh, sure. Thank you. That’d be great...sorry. I didn’t catch your name?”

The maid looked equally confused as she took Ella’s bag from her. “Helen.”

“Okay, Helen. I’m Ella,” she said, sticking out her hand for Helen to shake, tilting her head in Jess’s direction. “That’s Jess. We’re Rory’s friends.”

Jess nodded in greeting at Helen, biting back a laugh as the maid shook Ella’s hand with a disconcerted expression.

“Enjoy the party,” Helen muttered, then turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd behind her.

“I don’t think you were supposed to introduce us to the maid,” Jess chuckled as Ella led him through the sea of people to the left, revealing a large sitting room with an open bar.

“Who cares what we’re supposed to do?” Ella shrugged, stopping in her tracks as she began to search the room for anyone she knew. “Rory used to tell me her mother fired a maid a week. Figured she might need at least one friendly face tonight.”

His smile turned warm and his face lost its amusement as he regarded her for a moment. Her hair was back in a low bun, shorter pieces framing her face. She wore a dress bought special from Goodwill for the occasion, a black bodice and a skirt of lavender tulle. On her feet, the same black leather ballet flats she had owned since high school. Somehow, they hadn’t begun to fall apart yet. Beauty in her usual, hasty variety. She didn’t look exactly comfortable, but she looked like herself, fitting in so well simply because she wasn’t putting anything on. He disentangled their fingers and brought his hand to her freckled cheek instead, catching her lips in a kiss.

For a moment, Ella relished in the feeling of the butterflies in her stomach. But then, she remembered the buzz of the socialites around them and the mission at hand: to find Rory and congratulate her. She pulled away from him with a smack! and blushed immediately.

“Jesus, James Dean. Wait until we’ve got a smaller audience,” she snapped, though there was a smirk playing on her mouth. She was glad to only be wearing chapstick. Most of the makeup she was the dark smudge of smoke around her eyes.

Jess only shrugged, nonchalant and smug. “We’re the other half, Daria. They don’t expect too much from us.”

She rolled her eyes. Before she should retort, though, a woman with heavily styled brown hair and a glittery pantsuit approached them. Thankfully, it didn’t take more than a few seconds for Ella to recognize her as Rory’s grandmother, Emily Gilmore, who she’d met only once before. Back when Ella was still working at the diner, Rory had brought her grandmother for a tour of the town. Ella remembered how odd the chunky white sneakers looked on Emily’s feet, as she had also been wearing a stuffy, expensive skirt set and some Chanel No. 5.

“Ella! How nice to see you!” Emily received them, her voice raspy and pleasant.

Regaining her composure, hoping the flustered roses on her cheeks had cooled, Ella plastered on her best smile. “Good to see you, Mrs. Gilmore. Thanks for inviting us. Your house is incredible.”

“Ah, thank you,” Emily said gratefully, then looked quizzically at Jess. “And I should hope this is a boyfriend, from that little display I just witnessed.”

Ella’s face fell at the tight, irritated tone in Emily’s voice. Her skin flushed once again in embarrassment. She cleared her throat and grabbed Jess’s hand once more. “Yes, this is Jess Mariano.”

“Hi,” Jess said shortly, extending his free hand to Emily.

“Hello, Jess. I’m Mrs. Gilmore, Rory’s grandmother,” Emily replied cordially, reciprocating, though the distaste was still very evident in her voice and her face. She turned back to Ella as she broke her handshake with Jess. “How are you? It’s been so long. Are you still doing those little doodles?”

Her smile came to look even more forced, but Ella maintained the facade. It was Rory’s party. The least she could do was avoid a scuff with the hostess. “Yes. I’ve only got a year of grad school left. Studio art.”

Widening her eyes and nodding along, Emily made a small noise of acknowledgement. “Wonderful! And what comes after grad school for an artist?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella began to search her mind for a careful way to answer the question. The easy thing was to say she had no idea. But then, Ella had heard enough stories about Rory’s grandparents not to be entirely honest. “Well, I-”

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Emily exclaimed suddenly, brown doe eyes fixed on something over Ella’s shoulder. “I told him a million times to wait to serve the cheese cubes!”

Ella furrowed her brow, glancing behind her.

“I’ve got to go take care of this,” Emily said gravely. “Enjoy yourselves, you two. Make sure to try a Rory.”

“Um, pardon-” Ella began, but Emily had already begun her purposeful march back to the head waiter, who was apparently serving the hors devours out of order.

“Try a Rory!” a voice chirped cheerfully in front of them, and Ella jumped a little, turning her head forward once more.

Jess had a scowl on his face, so far unamused by the extravagant fanfare.

A waiter stood with a tray in front of them, a wide grin on his face. He stared at them expectantly for a moment, beaming, before they took the hint and each grabbed a drink from the tray. As they gave begrudging grunts of thanks, the waiter was already off to assault another group of partygoers with his enthusiastic exclamations. The drinks were those Ella had seen in the hands of other guests in the foyer, crusted rim martini glasses filled with pink, perfumy liquid.

“What the hell is this?” she thought aloud, inspecting the drink, swirling it around in the glass. She smelled it, and could only make out something fruity and the strong stench of alcohol.

Jess shrugged, staring down at his own glass inquisitively. “It’s a Rory.”

She scoffed. “Well, of course. I mean you haven’t lived until you’ve had a drink named after you.”

Snorting a laugh, Jess nodded. “I knew they were rich. But I didn’t know they lived in an Orwellian nightmare.”

“Me neither,” Ella said.

“Shall we?” Jess asked, raising his glass.

Heaving a large sigh, Ella clinked her cup against his. “We shall. Please don’t let Chris have any input in my eulogy.”

“No promises,” Jess quipped, before downing a big sip of his drink.

“Jackass.”

Taking a sip, Ella almost instantly regretted it. She never thought she would have the opportunity to taste the color pink, but she certainly wasn’t enjoying it now that it had come. As a child, her mother had sometimes stuck a bar of soap in her mouth when she let a swear word slip. Obviously, the technique hadn’t worked in the long run, but the taste was usually enough to elicit a weeks-long change in vocabulary. The drink instantly brought back the soapy memories. It was not quite Irish Spring, and not quite the orange bars of Dial her mother had eventually become partial to for punishments, but somewhere in-between. Her face twisted into a grimace and she swallowed with great labor.

Jess was already uttering a harsh cough as she finally managed to get the stuff down. “Are we sure they didn’t bring us all here to poison us?”

“Anything’s possible,” she replied, shaking her head at the taste. “Can we find a plant to dump these in?”

“I think it’d be wise,” Jess said, eyes immediately scanning the room.

He tossed a glance in her direction, then pointed subtly to a ficus in the corner by the sliding glass door. Meandering through the crowd of people, Ella did her best to look inconspicuous. She stood guard, blocking the view of Jess, as he drained his own drink into the plant and then took hers from where she held it out to him behind her back. After a few moments more of indecision, they placed their empty glasses on the mantelpiece and fled the scene of the crime into the dining room, where other groups were milling about.

“We might’ve just murdered that plant, Stevens,” Jess said as they finally came to a stop, lingering in the doorway between the foyer and the dining room.

“Well, death is a part of life,” Ella said dryly, still frowning at the taste in her mouth. “But if it does die, I’ll probably be the prime suspect. Maybe second to Lorelai. Mrs. Gilmore didn’t like me when she met me the first time, and it doesn’t seem like much has changed.”

“Why would she invite you, then?”

“Because Lane’s on tour and I’m pretty sure I’m the only other Stars Hollow friend she knows about,” Ella explained. It wasn’t hard to gather why her presence had been requested, with a formal invitation in the mail weeks earlier.

“Huh.”

“Can’t betray Emily Post, can she?” Ella said flippantly.

Jess smirked. “No, I think that’d get her twenty to life.”

Ella laughed, just as she finally spotted Rory approaching them from the opposite side of the dining room, with Logan in tow and Lorelai following behind. Rory looked radiant, hair curled perfectly and blue dress free of a single wrinkle. It reminded Ella of a dress Rory had worn to a school dance with Dean years earlier, the one she and Lane had squealed so loudly and girlishly over when Rory told them. The dress had been made by Lorelai, though. Ella didn’t doubt the dress Rory now wore cost more than the mansion door. She felt her stomach flip over when she caught herself in her thoughts. Ella knew she didn’t need to resent anyone’s wealth. She knew it truly didn’t make anyone any happier. But sometimes, she stopped the train too late and she’d already turned a bit green with envy.

“Guys! You made it! I’m so glad to see you!” Rory exclaimed happily. She hugged them both, then linked her arm with Logan’s.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t miss it,” Ella said. “We couldn’t find a scuba suit to buy you, though. Sorry.”

Smiling amiably, Rory gave a dismissive shake of her head, playing along. “That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll still be able to snag my Mrs. Robinson without one. Listen, Logan and I were on our way to find my grandpa, but I’ll try and catch up with you guys later. Is that okay?”

Ella nodded. “Of course. Go have fun, Thelma.”

The grin on Rory’s face grew, her teeth straight and white. “Thanks, Louise.”

Then, both of them were gone, Logan biding both Jess and Ella thin, compulsory goodbyes. Lorelai hung back a moment though, greeting the two of them. Her blue eyes were distracted and her voice was slightly frantic, but her usual warmth was ever-present.

“My dad’s been hiding from the party all night,” Lorelai explained. “My mother’s appointed us to seek.”

“Ah. I’ve had to do that more than once,” Ella said, giving Jess a playful nudge.

He rolled his eyes and flushed at her teasing. “I’m not a big party guy. Sue me.”

“As if you have any fortune worth chasing,” Ella shot back, then turned her full attention to Lorelai. “So, how does it feel to be the mother of a soon-to-be Yale graduate?”

“Honestly, sweetie?” Lorelai said, her eyes shining with pride. “Pretty damn good.”

“I’m glad,” Ella said.

“Hey, how did Adam’s go today?” Lorelai asked, taking another sip of her gin. “Did Father of the Year show up?”

Ella’s face fell and Jess cast her a glance. The two hours between the high school graduation and Rory’s party had been spent alternating between getting ready and hyperventilating. Maybe she hadn’t previously realized how unlikely she’d thought Jake’s showing up would be. His presence caught her off guard, trudging up old feelings which left the bitter taste of bourbon in her mouth. She didn’t know why she’d said what she had, when normally she could keep her mind and her mouth pretty well separated. Usually, her quips were calculated and deliberate. But Jake bringing up her mother right away after not speaking with Ella for so long? Saying she’d be disappointed in Ella’s choices? A burning rage Ella hadn’t known in years had flared up inside of her, and all her powers of restraint had short circuited. She’d said the first, most searing, most jarring, most hurtful thing she could think of.

“That he did,” Ella said shortly, looking down at her flats and wishing she still had a drink in her hand. Well, any drink but the pink monstrosity they were serving on the silver platters.

Lorelai scrunched up her nose knowingly. “Didn’t go so well, huh?”

“You remember that part in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly when Clint Eastwood blows up the bridge?” Ella asked.

“Yeah?” Lorelai replied.

“Well, it was pretty much like that,” Ella said. “Except, neither of us were trying to build a bridge.”

Lorelai hummed in sympathy, then pulled Ella in for another short hug. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“It’s alright,” Ella shrugged. “There’s about a hundred miles of distance between us on a regular day, so at least I don’t need to worry about any repeat occurrences in the near future.”

“Lorelai! Hi!” A reedy voice piped up from behind them, and Lorelai turned to see a small blonde woman and an even smaller brunette man nearing.

Lorelai’s eyes widened slightly. “Hi, Paris. Good to see you. Have you met Ella and Jess yet? They’re Rory’s friends from Stars Hollow.”

Paris. The name rang a bell in Ella’s head immediately. She finally got to put a face to the person Rory had complained and gushed about for years. The ultimate frenemy. In a way, Ella already admired Paris, though their paths had never managed to cross. Ella looked up at Jess, mouthing the name to him again. He raised his eyebrows, but then a thick shadow of recognition crossed his face, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

“I’ve gotta go find my dad, but I’ll be sure to catch up with you later,” Lorelai said, taking her leave sheepishly but gratefully.

“I’ll find you,” Paris said, nodding curtly at Lorelai as she walked away. Then, she turned back to Ella and Jess, immediately sizing them up. She stuck out her hand. “Paris Geller. I believe Rory’s mentioned you once or twice.”

Ella accepted the handshake first, smiling. “Ella Stevens. Pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Firm handshake,” Paris commented, with just a hint of admiration.

“Thank you for noticing.” Ella matched Paris’s strong gaze until their palms broke apart.

“Hi. I’m Jess,” Jess said as he himself shook Paris’s hand.

For a moment, Ella had to fight a smirk at Jess’s stand-offish shyness. Sometimes, he was so adorable she almost couldn’t handle it.

“And, this is Doyle,” Paris said, motioning to the man in the suit next to her. “My other half.”

After having finally finished exchanging their greetings, Paris glanced down at the photo on the t-shirt Jess wore. Ella saw immediately after he got dressed that he was wearing almost the exact the same outfit she’d found him in at Truncheon’s open house one year earlier. The blazer, the black and white t-shirt. Even the low-rise converse knock-offs. Only, now, he’d ditched the jeans for actual slacks, and a slightly better quality belt. She wondered at how much had changed in twelve months’ time.

“Interesting shirt. Joseph Szabo, huh?” Paris asked.

Jess hummed in confirmation.

“I always liked ‘Priscilla,’” Ella said, eyes flicking between Jess’s shirt and Paris.

“Personally, I think it’s a little derivative,” Paris said, arching a brow. “You guys are into photography, then?”

“Sort of. I’m an artist. Jess is a writer,” Ella explained.

“Ah,” Paris said, giving Jess a pointed look. “You looked like an author. Let me guess...Kerouac fanatic?”

Ella couldn’t hold back her laughter.

Jess didn’t let Paris’s accuracy shake his cool facade, though. “You could say that. He’s at the top of the list.”

“Along with?” Paris asked.

“Bukowski, Hemingway, Salinger,” Jess replied easily.

Paris scoffed, shaking her head. “What a surprise. God forbid one of you beatnik guys reads Jane Austen.”

“Hey! I’ve read Jane Austen,” Jess retorted, more insistent.

A wide smirk blossomed on Ella’s face as Paris and Jess continued squabbling over their preferences. Jess got even more heated, and Ella more amused, as Paris insulted the beats and eventually brought up poetry. It was already the highlight of the party.

“It seems she’s met a worthy opponent,” Doyle told Ella, watching his girlfriend argue.

Ella nodded proudly, humming in agreement.

. . .

Cicadas were buzzing loudly in Ella’s ears as she landed hard on the wood floor of Luke’s apartment. She let out a whoosh of air when her back hit the floor, groaning and muttering confused curses under her breath as she rubbed at her eyes. Getting her bearings, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked around. She could barely make out Luke’s disheveled silhouette, snoring loudly on the old brown couch, in the darkness of the room. He’d already been asleep by the time they got back from Rory’s party, with a note on the kitchen table insisting they take the double bed. Taking in a deep, frustrated breath, Ella got up from the floor and was surprised when she saw the mattress entirely empty, save for the rumpled sheets and comforter. She had been in the midst of a dreamless sleep when she’d rolled off the bed. It was the first time she had done something of the like since she was a little kid. But it made more sense without Jess’s frame there to block her from turning over too far. He may have been the lighter sleeper, but he didn’t move around nearly as much as Ella did when he finally shut his eyes for the night.

With furrowed brows, Ella padded silently over to see the tiny bathroom empty and dark, the door ajar. She didn’t see him at the kitchen table either, and his shoes were sitting by the door where he’d left them earlier. His watch and his wallet sat on the nightstand. Though she did her best to swallow it down, an awful, familiar panic began to rise in her throat. Her rational mind knew there was no way Jess had been snatched out of bed in the middle of the night without she or Luke noticing, and there was no way he could’ve been kidnapped in a place like Stars Hollow, no matter how zany the residents sometimes were. But, still, anything was possible.

Her thoughts wandered dangerously as she descended the rickety stairs into the diner. It, too, was empty. She even checked the kitchen, the stockroom, and the bathroom. Jess was nowhere to be found. Could he have left? In the middle of the night? It wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility, especially if one took his past into consideration. But as she made her way through the unlocked front door, she found her station wagon parked outside, the chipped, dark blue paint visible in the soft light of the half moon. The bus station? But why would he have gone without his shoes, without his wallet, without his watch? Without her.

She swallowed harshly, grimacing at the fear swirling in her stomach. Eyes roaming over the town, she racked her brain. But then she cast her gaze over to a beaten dirt path, to the right of the high school, and she felt just a touch less frantic. She crossed her arms over her t-shirt and hurried down toward it. The night air was welcome against her legs, mostly bare in her soft pajama shorts. As she rounded the corner below one of the town’s few streetlights, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding in. His form was hunched over, sitting on the bridge above the lake. Always the bridge, she thought to herself, and would have smirked if she wasn’t feeling so shaken. She neared him, her steps sounding dully on the bridge. She could see Jess’s bare feet, below the cuffs of his plaid pajama bottoms, dangling just over the water. The lake rippled, the bluish-white moonlight reflecting against the water and shining on Jess’s face. His jaw was set tensely. She could see the silver chain around his neck glinting where it peeked out from beneath his worn t-shirt.

Shaking her head, Ella took the seat beside him without waiting for an acknowledgement. She knew he would’ve heard her coming. He didn’t startle when her arm brushed against his. She looked down, her toes, painted purple, swinging underneath her as she hung her legs off the bridge.

“You’ll get an infection walking around without shoes,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

Jess uttered a low, half-hearted chuckle. “Not in Stars Hollow.”

She let a nostalgic smirk cross her face for only a moment before she turned her head to him. “Jesus, Jess. Leave a note next time.”

He ran a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d wake you.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “I fell off the bed.”

“She’s beauty and she’s grace,” Jess teased, though his heart wasn’t hardly in it.

“It’s true.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice laced with concern as he finally met her eyes. He looked tired, eyes red-rimmed. She wondered vaguely if he’d been crying.

Ella nodded. “Yeah, cutie. Just a bruise or two. I’m fine. Are you?”

Jess shrugged and looked away from her again. He couldn’t make out the trees across the water in the darkness. It must have been the middle of the night, two or three in the morning; the darkest hours before the dawn would break. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She nodded again, and was almost certain he’d had a nightmare. But it must have been exceptionally bad to have him retreating to the lake in the middle of the night, so she didn’t ask. She only pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and watched the water again, waiting.

There was a long pause before he spoke. “Elle?”

“Hm?”

“How do you…” he stopped to sigh, running a hand over his mouth once more.

“How do I what?” she asked gently.

“How do you do it?” he blurted out, unable to find a way to phrase the question better. His fatigue seemed to be clouding his verbal skills, which were never the best to begin with. “I mean...you just seem so okay with everything. You have it all together. You don’t believe in fate, or God, or anything. But you just...keep going.”

“I don’t have it all together, Jess,” she said.

“No, but you do,” Jess continued quietly, staring down at the small movements of the water. “I mean, maybe you don’t have your entire life figured out. But you know who you are. You don’t care what anyone thinks. You don’t believe in anything but you. And nothing shakes you, y’know?”

Tilting her head at him, she searched for an answer. He’d caught her off guard again. Smacking her lips together, she furrowed her brows and began undoing the french braid in her hair as she spoke. Partially because it felt too tight all of a sudden, and partially to have an outlet for the nervous energy in her hands.

“Things shake me. But...I don't know, Mariano. I think at some point I just sort of...accepted them. I can’t change what happened to my mom, I can’t change my dad, I can’t change much. I can only solve the problems I can solve, and there’s not many.”

He nodded, biting down hard on his bottom lip. “I guess you’re right.”

Heaving a sigh, she finished shaking the braid out of her long hair, and laid back against the bridge. Above, the sky was so blue it was almost pitch black. Stars shone brightly against the backdrop, numerous without the light pollution of a city like Philadelphia. She felt a sudden pang of homesickness, unlike anything she had experienced since moving away. There weren’t many things she missed about the small town in which she grew up, but the view of the night sky was one of them.

“But doesn’t it ever...bother you?” Jess asked, still unsure himself of exactly what he was trying to say.

“Sort of. Sometimes,” Ella said, gaze focusing on the little dipper. She felt her muscles relax, and the ache in her back quieted down a bit. She knew she would be a bit sore in the morning. “When I was a kid, I used to go out with my big brother in the summer and catch fireflies. And then we would try to find constellations, though I’m pretty sure all we knew was Orion’s belt.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she echoed wistfully. “I loved the stars...In third grade, I knew this girl whose uncle worked at NASA. And for her birthday, her parents bought her a star and named it after her. I had no idea you could do that. And I begged my parents for like...fucking months to get a star. I didn’t even want to name it after me. I wanted to make up a name for it, but still...have it be mine. But...we barely had money for groceries...let alone a star. And I was pissed about it for a while. But, then, eventually, we learned about how the light of the stars we see is hundreds of years old.”

“Pretty good for a public school,” Jess interjected.

Ella giggled. “I agree. But, after I learned it, I didn’t give a fuck about naming a star anymore. Because any star I would’ve named was dead already.”

“So, you were a nihilist even as an eight-year-old?” he asked, glancing back at her. Her blonde hair was swept over her shoulder, eyes glittering greenish, skin dewy and pale.

“Pretty much,” she said. “But it’s like that, I guess. I can’t bring a star back to life, so why worry about it dying? Even after my mom...I tried for a while to get over it. I tried to...solve it. I thought if I just got over it, it would be done, and I wouldn’t have to think about it ever again. My dad wasn’t helping, and Adam was a wreck. He stayed with Julie for a few weeks after she died, actually. He said he couldn’t stand being around my dad and I.”

“Because you were fighting?” Jess asked.

Ella shook her head softly, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “No, actually. We were drinking.”

“What?” Jess turned his body to face her, sitting cross-legged at her side.

“Yeah, we were sitting around the kitchen table drinking. Pretty much all the time. Noah was off with his friends, doing whatever he was doing to get by. So, I didn’t want to leave my dad alone. We would just drink all night, whenever I wasn’t at school...Sometimes, I would cry afterwards, when I was alone or when the hangover hit. But never in front of him. And I thought it would get better, but it wasn’t helping,” she explained, stopping briefly to take a deep breath of the fresh summer air. “Eventually, I...I would sleep through entire weekends, night and day, just to pass the time. I didn’t eat much, but I wasn’t really hungry. I just slept and slept. I remember...being so tired. I didn’t see anyone...not even Lane and Rory those first few weeks. I started smoking, too. I kept up with schoolwork and everything...I don’t really know why. Maybe it was just a force of habit...the one constant thing. Nothing seemed important, though. Without her there, I mean.”

Eyebrows raised, Jess listened. He had never heard her talk so much about the immediate period of time after her mother’s death. Not even he knew the details. And it shocked him the way she spoke. She wasn’t crying. She was barely pausing or stuttering at all. She told him matter-of-factly, detached.

She shrugged. “But that only lasted a few weeks. I managed to go to school, but my dad pretty much just stopped going to work. Even after the leave they gave him. He lost his job, but he wouldn’t even try looking for another one. He was just too...he couldn’t do anything. So, I stopped drinking. I didn’t pick up any alcohol again until that night I stole his tequila. And I got a job at Luke’s, to get us some extra money. And Luke threw in leftovers whenever he could. I didn’t think about her really...not for a long time. There were other problems to worry about, I guess. So, I just...got up and kept going. That’s the way it’s always been for me, I guess. She was dead, and we needed money.”

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“Things shake me, Jess. But I’ve always been good at just sort of...getting on with it...not thinking about it,” she said, voice slightly strained but clear. “I still don’t think about her most of the time. Not in a real way. Maybe that’s why I got so fucking angry when my dad brought her up today. He’s just so...I don’t know. Maybe he wishes I kept drinking with him...that I never got a job or got up from the kitchen table. Maybe he would have an easier time looking at himself now.”

Jess hummed in acknowledgment, giving a small nod of his head. He cast a careful glance her way. “Are you mad at your mom?”

She averted her eyes from him and found Polaris, the brightest amongst all the other dots of light. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay to be mad at her,” he said.

“I know,” she replied softly. “I’ve had enough school counselors tell me that to know it. But...honestly...sometimes I feel like...if I think about it too hard...I’ll go back. I’ll feel like I did then. I’ll be like I was then. And I don’t see the point of going back there.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, then finally came to lay beside her. He shivered slightly as his back touched the bridge, though the air was warm.

Then, after a moment, she asked: “Are you worried about Doula?”

He didn’t answer. He only took one of her hands in his own, as they both gazed up at the sea of stars above, and squeezed it once. Hard, though nowhere near hard enough to hurt. She nodded knowingly, and didn’t ask anything more. A breeze blew past them, and she rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. She felt her eyes threatening to flutter shut once or twice, but she willed them to stay open. Not only for the view they were enjoying.

“That was some party, huh?” Jess asked, breaking the silence. His tone was lighter than it had been since they had arrived in Stars Hollow. They’d talked about the party a little bit in the car on the way home, Jess driving. But Ella had already begun to doze during the ride, exhausted from the long day.

She snorted a laugh. “Fuck, I don’t know which I liked less: Emily Gilmore seeing us make out or drinking that battery acid.”

“I don’t know. I think her calling your art ‘doodles’ is also in the running,” Jess added.

She smirked. “No, she can call them whatever she wants. I’d never trust the taste of someone who thinks it’s appropriate to put a chandelier in a bathroom, anyway.”

Jess laughed heartily. “Agreed.”

“I’m glad you made a new friend, though,” Ella said.

Furrowing his brows, Jess tore his eyes away from the stars to look at her. “Who?”

“Paris,” Ella replied, as though it were obvious.

“Ah,” Jess said, nodding. “I don’t know if I’d call her a friend, but it was fun to listen to her accuse me of sacrilege when I said Bukowski was better than Elizabeth Bishop.”

“Well, she was right,” Ella said, bumping his shoulder playfully with her own. “She was cute, too.”

“You think so?” he asked.

“I think if you and Doyle didn’t exist, she and I would make for the most powerful couple on the East Coast,” she teased.

Jess snorted a laugh. “You could handle that level of intensity?”

“Please,” she mocked, rolling her eyes. “I live with you.”

Jess gasped, feigning astonishment as he brought his free hand over his heart. “Cruel woman.”

“I think you’ll survive,” she replied, smiling.

“I’m not so sure,” Jess said, continuing his bit.

Rolling her eyes, Ella disentangled their fingers, got up on an elbow, and looked down at him. She could see the shadow of stubble on his cheeks and the faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smirked at her. Leaning in, she pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, lingering as he ran a hand through her hair. When she came up for air, she noticed again how sleepy he looked.

“You feel any better?” she asked.

He licked his lips. “I’m getting there.”

Only after one more long kiss did Jess agree to return to bed, walking hand-in-hand with her in the dead of night, back to Luke’s.

#jess mariano #jess #mariano #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano au #jess mariano x oc #jess mariano x original character #jess mariano x oc fanfiction #gilmore girls #gilmore #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls imagines #jess mariano imagines #gilmore girls oc fanfiction #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #emily gilmore #paris geller

28 notes · View notes

darkobsidianquill · 5 years ago

Text

Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness.

Chapter Nineteen.

Harry easily slipped into his new routine. Every day after lunch he would slip away to Voldemort's manor house and keep the Dark Lord 'company' while he performed his meditation exercise. Harry would read while he sat there; some days Voldemort would supply him with a specific book, but other days Harry would just read his text books or work on homework for some class.

He was spending almost all of his evenings with Ron and Hermione again, but he still tended to spend at least a half hour a day as he continued working on copying the book down in the chamber. By Wednesday night he had almost finished copying it. He left the chamber with only five more pages left to copy, and a hand cramp. He and Hermione were spending a lot of time in the evenings working on translating it, and their efforts had gained the curiosity of Ginny, who had started 'helping' them – which really meant that she was sitting at the table with them and asking questions that were slowing down their progress.

Ron was clearly very annoyed at their boring little side project and was spending more and more time with Seamus and Dean.

Thursday morning arrived and Harry had Transfiguration during first block and then a free period. Once the class had begun to clear out, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione and told them to go on ahead. When they looked at him with curious confusion, he told them he was going to speak with McGonagall about his classes for next year and they both understood quickly.

Harry stood up from his desk and packed away the last of his books just as the last of the other students left the room. Professor McGonagall looked up to see him still standing there and rose a single questioning eyebrow in his direction.

"Was there something you needed, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"Actually, yes. I was hoping to speak with you about my elective courses and my options for next year."

She looked mildly surprised by this but quickly stood to her feet and began to walk towards the door to the class room. "Alright, Mr. Potter. Shall we continue this conversation in my office then?"

"That would be great," Harry said with a grin as he began to walk beside her and out of the classroom.

After a brief journey down the corridor, the two of them reached the deputy headmistress's office and sat down on opposite sides of her desk. Harry quickly began to explain to her what he was hoping to do with his classes for the following year.

"This is a very unusual request, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said after he had finished explaining everything.

"I really don't see why it's not done more often. I mean, how many people really know what they're going to be interested in later on in life, when they're only twelve years old? Besides, worse case scenario, I end up in the class with the third year's and take my Ancient Runes and Arithmancy OWLs in my seventh year."

McGonagall nodded her head slowly, but from the thin-lipped frown on her face, he could tell she wasn't convinced.

"I'm also thinking about looking into some private tutoring this summer in both subjects. At least the theory and all the reading. If I can pass competency tests in August, I was hoping that maybe I could get placed with the forth years."

"Private tutoring?" McGonagall echoed with surprise.

"Yes. I've already spoken with someone who is willing to help me. Do you think it would be possible to arrange for a test in both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy?"

"Well, I..." she began hesitantly before huffing a bit and then giving a somewhat resigned sigh. "I'll have to speak with Professors Septima and Babbling to see what they think of all of this. There will also be the issue of making sure that the classes work with your normal fifth year class schedule. There may be timing conflicts."

"If that does become an issue, perhaps I could apply to the Ministry for a time-turner?" Harry asked with big, innocent, puppy-dog eyes.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, which only made Harry grin.

Harry ducked his head and then took on a more serious expression. "All fun aside, Professor, I really am serious about this. It's important to me. I made a mistake at the end of second year. I chose the wrong classes. Pure and simple. And I chose them for the worst reasons."

"And what reasons would those be?"

"I chose them because everyone said they were easy. But now I realize that I'm just wasting a precious, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are really valuable subjects, and I'm really interested in learning both of them. Now that I've realized what a stupid mistake I've made, I'm trying to fix it. Surely it isn't too late?" he finished, with a pleading tone.

McGonagall gave another resigned sigh. "I will admit that I would normally tell you no in this situation. However the tremendous improvement in your classwork over the year, and the fact that your other professors have given similar reports during staff meetings leads me to give your request more consideration than I usually would."

Harry blinked. "Staff meetings?" The teachers had been talking about him in the staff meetings? Somehow this didn't exactly sit well with him.

"Yes, your classwork improvement over the last year has come up several times in our meetings. Even Professor Snape has had no choice but to admit that your work has improved," she said with the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

Harry choked out a bit of a laugh that he tried to morph into a cough. "Is that so?" he asked innocently. "That must have been quite painful for him."

McGonagall snorted. She would deny it till her dying day, but Harry had heard it and he would never forget it. He had made McGonagall snort.

"Yes, well... Mr. Potter... Taking into consideration your improved worth ethics and study habits, and your sincere desire to learn the subjects, I will do my best to help you with this. I cannot guarantee anything, but I will try."

Harry gave her a huge smile and thanked her profusely before bidding her farewell and heading off to find Ron.

– –

By Thursday night Harry had finished copying the last few pages of the ancient elven book and returned to the common room to help Hermione with translating it. The book seemed to be made up of several ancient legends, and the further they translated, the more and more interesting they were becoming. However translating the texts was still extremely slow-going, and Harry found he rarely had the energy at the end of the days to dedicate a lot of his focus towards the task. In contrast, Hermione was becoming down-right dedicated to it, and Ginny was acting as her personal cheerleader.

During the last week, Harry hadn't felt nearly as strong a need or deep seeded desire to spend an hour each day practicing the dark arts as he once did. The anxious, antsy, tension that had eaten away at his mind each day up until he was finally able to get down into the chamber, had dulled significantly now that he was spending several hours a day in the company of the Dark Lord.

Harry had absolutely no explanation for why spending time with Voldemort every day would have any effect on that irrational itch he'd been experiencing for months now. Despite not having an explanation for it, the fact that it clearly had an effect was obvious. Harry decided that he needed to try speaking to Voldemort about it and see if the Dark Lord had any insight into the matter.

The more time he'd spent in the man's company, the more comfortable he felt with actually asking questions, so the idea of trying to explain his experience to Voldemort and asking the man's opinion wasn't nearly as scary or intimidating as it might have once been. But this would also mean openly broaching the subject of how he was affected so strangely by Voldemort's presence, and that still made him feel a little hesitant. Despite the fact that they had acknowledged that the two of them were interacting in a way that was probably a bit odd for both of them, they hadn't actuallydiscussed it.

Unless it was normal for the Dark Lord to spend large amounts of time with individual followers and pet their hair if they sat within reach.

But somehow Harry seriously doubted that was the case. It really didn't seem like the sort of thing Voldemort would normally do.

Saturday arrived and Harry portkeyed to the manor as soon as he was finished with lunch. Voldemort was already in his usual meditative position on the floor and Harry took up his usual spot a few feet away.

After an hour, and the most powerful spike in Voldemort's parselmagic that Harry had thus far sensed from the man, Voldemort stood, stretched and sat heavily in his chair. He read a couple muggle newspapers and then went through the Daily Prophet – Harry had learned that the house-elf, Mixey, was going out daily to acquire a copy of the magical paper for her master – Voldemort sighed, set the papers aside and stood up.

Harry turned and watched the man, curiously for a moment without saying anything. Voldemort took a few steps towards the door before turning back and looking at Harry expectantly.

"Coming?"

Harry blinked, but then quickly scrambled to his feet. He followed Voldemort as his long fast strides quickly took them down the stairs and through the corridors towards the ballroom where they had performed the resurrection ritual.

"So what are we doing?" Harry finally asked as he managed to make his strides match Voldemort's and walked beside him.

"I am going to begin teaching you a few important skills during your visits here. The first one is apparition."

Harry's foot caught on the rug and he almost stumbled in surprise at this, but he collected himself and caught back up.

"Apparition? You're going to teach me to apparate?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Potter. I'm going to teach you to apparate," Voldemort echoed while rolling his eyes.

"Can the Ministry detect that? As I understand it, you need a license to apparate, and you can't even take the test until you're seventeen."

"The Ministry cannot detect it from you because your trace is gone."

"Oh, well that's brilliant," Harry mused as a grin spread across his lips and the pair of them entered the ballroom.

Voldemort quickly began to explain the theory behind it, and then apparated from one side of the ballroom to the other, and back again, so that Harry could feel his magic during the act. Once he learned that Harry had never experienced apparition at all, he did a side-along apparition just to make sure Harry would know what to expect.

Harry spent the next two minutes crouching on the floor trying to make sure he didn't lose his lunch.

"I thought portkeying was bad..." Harry grumbled as he finally felt stable enough to stand up straight. "What is with all forms of magical transport being horrifically disorienting? I can't use a floo without falling on my ass, I've only just barely begun to land from portkey travel without stumbling, and now this. Ugh..."

Voldemort chuckled in amusement. "You'll get used to it."

"So... I'm curious, when you apparate, I hardly hear a sound from you. It's almost as quiet as a house-elf's pop. Everyone else I've seen apparate always makes a loud crack."

"Again, it just takes practice and power. I'm sure with some work you will also be more than capable of near-silent apparition. You certainly have the power reserves for it."

Harry nodded his head thoughtfully. "You know, I had another question I've been meaning to ask since we started this."

"Yes?" Voldemort said dryly with a sigh of impatience.

"We're apparating inside the manor, but I thought that the manor had anti-apparition wards all around it?"

"I am keyed into the wards, and I have keyed you in as well. So we will be able to apparate in and out of the manor, as well as aparate within it's boundaries. No one else will be capable of the same thing, however, unless I key them in as well."

Harry blinked. "You've keyed me into your apparition wards?"

Voldemort rose a single challenging eyebrow, and Harry ducked his head to try and conceal the huge grin that was spreading across his face.

"Are you're curiosities sufficiently satisfied now? I would appreciate getting on with the lesson."

Harry chuckled and smiled up at the man. "Yeah, I'm good. Let's get on with it."

Voldemort rolled his eyes at Harry, but quickly slipped into what Harry had deemed his 'teacher mode'. Harry didn't manage to apparate that evening, but Voldemort said he was convinced Harry would get it within a few more lessons with relative ease.

When the lesson had come to a close, Harry casually thanked Voldemort and said 'bye' before heading out to the time-turner room and then returning to Hogwarts.

– –

It was Sunday at lunch, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron were all sitting in the great hall eating. Or rather, Ron was eating, Hermione was working on translating some more passages from the ancient elven book, and Harry was thumbing through a book on occlumency he'd found down in Slytherin's study. He had disguised the book's cover to look like his charms text book, while also casting a mild notice-me-not charm on it, and so far, no one had noticed it.

"Harry, are you sure you copied this part down, right?" Hermione's voice cut into his focus suddenly and he looked up at her with a blank face.

"Hmm?"

Her face was buried in her copy of the bound notebook that he had given her, while the Old Aldric language book sat on the table beside her.

"This part here... I can't find this word anywhere... I almost think you may have copied it down wrong," she said with her brows furrowed as she continued to look back and forth between the two books intently.

"Hm... I suppose it's certainly possible. I've tried to recheck my work pretty thoroughly."

She huffed in frustration and set the notebook on the table with a thwap!, causing Ron's cup of pumpkin juice to wobble precariously for a moment. Hermione's eyes widened as she watched it in horror for a second before it became clear that it was not about to spill on the notebook. She sighed in relief before returning her attention to Harry.

"Are you sure you can't just bring me the original book?" she asked in a pleading voice.

Harry shook his head. "Nope. Sorry Hermione, but I'm not willing to remove it from the room where it's kept. It has to stay there."

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a hard look. "Could I just go to the room then?" she asked after a second in an innocent tone.

Harry gave her a hard look for a long moment. It had been a while since their last spat about Harry's mysterious secrets. He supposed he was due for another. "Sorry 'Mione. I'm not telling."

She huffed, folded her arms across her chest and scowled at him. For a long minute she fumed quietly. Harry assumed she was just going to let it go, but this time, she didn't. "Why!" she cried in a sudden explosion of pent up frustration.

"Why what?" Harry said, taken aback by the intensity of her burst.

"Why won't you tell me where it is you're going! What are you doing! Where are you going? Are you breaking a school rule? Are you leaving the grounds?"

"I'm not breaking any rules, and no, I am not leaving the grounds. Where I go is still within the school," Harry lied easily.

"Then why can't you tell me where it is! Why don't you trust me! You talk about us earning your trust back, but you know trust is a two-way street, Harry James Potter! If you keep pushing us away like this, how are we supposed to trust you!"

Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He was getting fed up with making excuses to them and realized that he was going to have to give her something to hold her off a while. "Maybe I like having a secret place that only I can go to, and no one else can bother me at, did that ever occur to you?" Harry asked with a rather pointed look and raised eyebrows.

Hermione came up short, frowned, and looked legitimately hurt. "So you go there to get away from us, then?"

"I go there to get away from everyone, Hermione. You see, during first term, there was this thing where every bloody student in the school suddenly hated the very air I breathed, and all I wanted to do was get away from all the glares, snickers, and snide remarks. I found someplace that I could to to be alone and I got used to it. I found that I honestly enjoyed the alone time, and that it allowed me to think clearer and get more accomplished. So even after people decided to do another flip-flop and stopped hating my guts, the fact that I enjoyed the alone time didn't change. I got used to it.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm not actually hiding anything big? Maybe I just found a secret room in this big crazy castle filled with old forgotten secrets, and that room has some books in it, and I like to go there to read and get my work done? That's it. No big crazy conspiracy. No rule breaking, or devious ulterior motives. I did go there for my animagus practice, but now I just go there to be alone and read in peace."

Hermione still looked rather crushed at this point, and not as convinced as he was hoping, so Harry huffed an annoyed breath and pressed on.

"Maybe you aren't entirely clear on some of my personal history, Hermione, but before Hogwarts, I was always alone. I went to school, came home, did my chores, and then I got locked away in my cupboard and spent all my time alone in a dark little space with absolutely no company. When I got to Hogwarts I thought 'This is my chance to finally make friends without them being chased away by Dudley, and to try and be outgoing, and spend my time with people.' But it's always been forced for me. I've been forcing myself to be outgoing. Forcing myself to be social. I've realized that I'm not a naturally social person. It's just the way I grew up. I've come to realize that I enjoy being able to go someplace and just be alone. It's like I can breath again. I spend some time alone to recoup, and then I feel the ability to be around people again.

"And it's not like I'm not trying here. I mean, you have to acknowledge that I'm spending less time there then I used to! I've been with you guys every evening for the last two weeks! I'm even including you in this project with my book! So come on! Give me a break, will you?"

Ron and Hermione sat there, looking at him with rather stunned expressions for a long, thick minute before Hermione's jaw began to move a bit.

"They locked you in a cupboard?" she asked in a weak voice.

Harry blinked. "I've mentioned my cupboard before, haven't I?" he asked, mildly surprised and confused by her response. Hadn't he mentioned it before? He did suppose he had glazed over it a lot in the past. He didn't want their pity. Plus, he recalled having actually been rather ashamed of it. Like it was somehow his fault how his relatives had treated him. He no longer held those delusions though. It wasn't his fault at all. His shitty muggle relatives were just monstrous assholes. For them, it was all about fear of what they couldn't understand or control. Magic scared them, and Harry had personified it. Harry had realized that it was simply human nature to instantly try to destroy anything that scared or confused them. His relatives were scared and confused by him, so they tried to break him. And someday, he would repay them for their sacrifice and kindness. Harry remarked, sarcastically, internally.

"What kind of cupboard?" Hermione asked, her voice getting harder and a bit cold.

Harry sighed and let his head fall into his hand. "Uh... a boot cupboard, I guess. Under the stairs. They put a little cot in there for me. I lived there till I turned eleven and got my Hogwarts letter. The Dursley's panicked when they saw that my acceptance letter was addressed to 'Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs'. They thought they were being watched and finally moved me into the extra bedroom."

"They had an extra bedroom, but they kept you in a cupboard!" Hermione all but shrieked.

Harry's eyes widened as he glanced around the great hall for a second before he glared back at her, hard.

"Would you keep it down!" he hissed angrily. Harry pulled out his wand and did a few quick movements with it while silently incanting the proper spell in his mind. The sounds of the great hall suddenly muffled into a distant buzzing noise, as the three of them were enclosed in a small privacy ward. "Look... how the hell did we even get on this? Weren't we arguing about me sneaking off to a secret room or something?"

"How could they do that!" Hermione said in a horrified, sad voice, apparently not listening to Harry. "They still treat you terribly, don't they? Oh, Merlin! The bars! The bars on your window!" She turned her gaze to Ron, who was suddenly looking rather pale. "Before second year when Ron and the twins rescued you... oh Harry! How could they treat you like that?"

"Yeah, well I've got a better question for you. How could Dumbledore leave me there as a baby and not once check up on me? Or better still – how can he know about it now and still make me go back? Says it's the only place I'm safe," Harry sneered sarcastically while rolling his eyes.

Hermione looked horrified. "He couldn't possibly know! Harry, you have to tell Professor Dumbledore! If he knew the truth, he would never make you go back!"

"He does know, Hermione," Harry said through clenched teeth. "He knows perfectly well, how they've treated me my whole life. My aunt has written him letters over the years, begging him to take me back and leave me with someone else. He knows how much they hate me. How much they wish to be rid of me. And I've told him how they treat me. That they don't feed me and that they work me like a bloody house elf each summer. He knows Hermione. Honestly, I thought you knew. Or at least, I thought you would have figured it out from all the clues."

"No..." Hermione said in a weak little whisper as she began shaking her head back and forth. "No... I never knew... Oh Merlin Harry... I'm sorry... I never realized... I..."

"Hermione," Harry said in a hard tone, "Just stop. There's nothing for you to apologize for –"

"Yes there is!" she insisted. "There is, Harry! I should have realized! I can't believe I was so stupid that I never listened! You have mentioned the cupboard before, but it was always in passing and you acted so dismissive about it that it never stuck. I wasn't listening. I should have... I should have..."

"Should have, what, Hermione? What could you have done?" Harry said, leaning back on his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well I should have done something! Told a professor, or something!"

"I've told teachers. Back in primary school I tried telling people and it just got me in trouble. The only times my uncle has ever really hit me were after I told people at the school and they visited the Dursley's or called them. All the rest of my life they just neglected me. Dudders made a sport of beating the shit out of me, but I got pretty good at running from him and his friends, and he's let up since he found out I'm magical. And I've told Dumbledore about all of this and he doesn't give a damn. Telling McGonagall won't do any good because in the end – for some unfathomable reason – Dumbledore thinks hehas say over where I go for the bloody holidays. Well, fine. Whatever. Asking to go somewhere else won't work. So I just won't ask."

"But you can't go back there! They can't treat you like that! It's criminal!"

"Yeah, I'm aware of that now."

"Professor Dumbledore must just not realize how bad it is. Harry, you've got to just tell them!"

"No."

"But you don't want to go back to the Dursley's right?"

"Correct. And I'm not going to be going back."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but then stopped, coming up short with a confused look on her face. "Wait... what?"

"I'm not going back. But I'm not asking Dumbledore for permission first, either. In what way is it his business what I do over the summer? Legally, it isn't. If I get permission from the Dursley's to go somewhere else for the summer, that's all that matters because they are my legal guardians. Dumbledore has no say over my life while I'm not in school. So I'm going somewhere else, and I'm not telling him."

"What! But... where? Harry, that's dangerous! You're not thinking of running off with Sirius are you? That's just not safe! You saw how Sirius has to live, Harry –"

"I'm not going to stay with Sirius," Harry broke in.

"But where are you going then? What if someone comes after you! There was that Death Eater attack at the World Cup, and we all know that someone wants you dead, because they orchestrated this whole tournament thing. Harry, it's just not safe to run off without telling Dumbledore where you're going."

"If no one knows where I go, then no one can find me. That's why I'm not telling anyone. And I'm sorry, but that includes you two. If you don't know where I am, no one can force you to tell them. Nice and simple. And by the way, Hermione – if you run off to the headmaster before the end of the school year, and tell him that I'm planning to run off this summer, I swear I will never speak to you, ever again. Do you understand me? You can feel free to go off and tell him that I've been abused and neglected by my relatives and just see for yourself how seriously he takes it, but mention that I'm running off, and we're through. I will never trust you with a secret, ever again. Do you get it?"

Hermione jerked back as if she had just been slapped.

"Harry... I..."

"I want you to understand something here. I'm trusting you with this info. Do you see? You know the whole 'trust is a two way street' bit from a few minutes ago? Well, here I am, trusting you. I've just told you something that no one else knows, and I have no intention of telling anyone else. Ifyou tell someone else, then you're betraying my trust. You've already seriously betrayed my trust once this year Hermione, and in my game, it's two strikes and you're out, not three."

"Harry! Come on, give her a break!" Ron said, speaking up for the first time in ages. Up until this point, he had sat there with a shocked and utterly dumbfounded expression on his face.

"This goes for you too Ron. I don't see you running off to the Headmaster like I see Hermione doing it, but the warning goes for you too."

"Why do you think that I would run off and snitch!" Hermione asked indignantly.

"Because you would convince yourself that you were doing it to help me. To protect me. To keep me from making a mistake or something. You'd convince yourself that you were being a good friend by betraying me, but I will never see it like that. As far as I'm concerned, it's just betrayal."

Ron nodded his head a bit and looked thoughtful. "He's got you there, Hermione. You probably would run off and tell. It's just like the thing with the Firebolt, last year."

"Ron!" Hermione cried out. She looked back and forth between Ron and Harry with hurt in her eyes before she sunk a bit in her seat and looked down into her lap.

"I won't tell anyone," she said weakly. She paused for a moment and then appeared to make up her mind about something. "But I still want to try speaking to Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster about your relatives! I just can not believe that they would know about how they treat you, and still make you go back there!"

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. "Suit yourself."

Hermione sat there gnawing on her bottom lip with a look of deep concentration for a few minutes before she looked up at Harry with legitimate worry in her eyes. "You really can't tell us where you're going?"

"Nope," Harry said simply as he returned his focus to his book.

"But how do you know it'll be safe?"

"You can never know these things Hermione, but I do know I'll be safer there than I am at the Dursley's."

"But I thought that your relatives house had some super fancy wards or something?" Ron pitched in.

"The blood wards are worthless against everyone except for Voldemort himself," Harry began, and then silently added, and they're probably worthless against him now too, since he's got my blood in his veins... "I think Dumbledore threw up a whole bunch of wards on his own on top of them to keep out Death Eaters, but they only work so long as I'm in the actual house. If I leave the house to go to the park, or just down the street, then I'm out of their so-called 'perfect protection'. So to stay 'safe' I have to, literally, be a prisoner in my own home.

"And while the wards protect me from Death Eaters, they don't protect me from Vernon, or Dudley, or any of Dudder's shitty friends. I've had a lot more bruises and broken bones at the hands of those arses than I've ever had from Death Eaters. Personally? I'll take my chances with the Death Eaters."

Ron looked pale and Hermione seemed shocked to the brink of tears.

"Broken bones!" Hermione gasped. "Are you serious?"

Harry huffed and looked up from his book in annoyance. "Yes, Hermione. Broken bones. My left arm, and my right wrist, to be specific. Ages five and seven. Probably got some fractures over the years too, but they went untreated. Vernon was too cheap to let me see a proper doctor unless there was a bone practically protruding from the skin. I suspect I've got a bit of a magical healing factor because without it I doubt I'd still be alive with all the beatings Dudders and his buddies put me through. In any case, all the more reason for me to stay the bloody hell away from those people. I'm Not Going Back."

"Alright, Harry. I totally agree that you definitely should not ever have to go back to those horrible people, but are you sure that where you're going is really going to be safe?"

"Yes, Hermione. I really am sure. I mean, technically, I've got two different ideas in mind for what I could do this summer, but I'm definitely leaning more towards one than the other, and that option would actually put me behind wards even more powerful than the 'super fancy wards' that Dumbledore put on the Dursley's."

"No way!" Ron gaped.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, well it's a new residence and the wards are being constructed right now, but it's some seriously high level security. For that matter, I'm not totally sure I'll even be able to receive owls there, because I'm pretty sure that he's adding anti-owl wards in the mix, but I'll make sure to send you guys letters so you know I'm still safe."

Hermione's jaw floundered, helplessly for a few minutes. "I... but... Harry, how did you... I mean... this place that you're going to go to, how did this all come about? How long have you been planning this!"

Harry could see the hurt in her eyes at realizing that he had once again been hiding something that she probably deemed as 'a big deal' from them.

Harry sighed, closed his book, and gave Ron and Hermione a long, hard look.

"Have you ever heard of legilimency?"

"Legililiwhuh?" Ron said. He turned and looked over to Hermione, expectantly but she just shrugged, helplessly.

"Wow, really?" Harry said, looking at Hermione with legitimate surprise. "You've never heard of it, Hermione? Really?"

"No! What is it?"

"It's a mind magic. Really high level magic and very few people can learn it. It lets you read other people's minds. You can sift through their memories and their thoughts, and they'll never even know that you're doing it, unless they know the counter magic called occlumency. The only thing that a legilimense needs to read your every private thought and memory, is eye contact."

"Blimey!" Ron whispered, looking horrified.

Hermione looked disgusted by this new information, but then she looked very thoughtful. "Harry..." she began hesitantly, looking up at him, "why are you telling us this?"

"I've been teaching myself occlumency, so no one can read my mind. Neither of you have that protection in place. If I had told either of you what I'd been up to, then certain people in the school, could have taken that knowledge from your heads without you ever even knowing it."

"Who! Are you saying that there's someone at Hogwarts who can perform legilimency?"

"I know of at least two people in the school who can," Harry said dismissively.

"Who?" Ron and Hermione asked in the same whispered hush.

"Snape and Dumbledore."

Hermione gasped.

"SNAPE!" Ron roared, looking a mixture of horror, anger, and disgust. "Snape can read our minds!" Ron paused, grimacing in thought for a moment before he gasped again. "But Snape's a Death Eater!"

"We don't know that Ron!" Hermione instantly reprimanded. "And it's Professor Snape!"

Harry then sat back and watched as the two of them began to bicker about Snape and what it could mean that he was able to read their minds, and all Harry wanted to do was point out that he hardly gave a damn about Snape, and was far more ticked about Dumbledore doing it.

Now that Harry knew the signs to look for, in retrospect, there were a number of instances where he had been sitting with the headmaster and he was sure the man had used legilimency on him. First year, second year, even third year. If Dumbledore had read his mind, in the instances when he suspected the man did, it would mean that Dumbledore knew about Harry and his friends investigating the stone, and that Dumbledore knew about Harry having found the diary, long before Ginny took it back... hell, Harry had known that the diary belonged to Tom Riddle, and if Dumbledore read his mind when he suspected the man had, he undoubtedly saw that.

It all just led more and more credence to his theories that Dumbledore wanted Harry to keep having run-ins with Voldemort, and Death Eaters, and near-death experiences. The real question, was why?

Harry refocused on Hermione and Ron, just as Ron was getting all red-faced with his own frustrated insistence that Snape was pure evil and couldn't be trusted, against Hermione's arguments that Dumbledore would never let the man teach if he hadn't earned the headmaster's trust. It was an old argument and Harry rolled his eyes.

"But anyway!" Harry said interrupting them. "The point is that if I tell you guys too much, then someone can pluck the knowledge out of your minds, even without you realizing that they've done it. If you two knew how I came across this place I plan to go, you could figure out what the place was. Anyone who knows legilimency could read your minds and pluck the knowledge right out of your heads and you couldn't do a thing about it. When people realize I haven't got back to the Dursley's like I'm supposed to, and they can't find me, you two are sure to be the first ones that they go to. Any clues I give you two are just going to be clues used by other people when they go trying to find me. The best way for me to stay safe is if no one knows where I am. And that means absolutely no one."

"But what if a Death Eater or someone out to get you finds out, and then none of us know where you are and can't come help?"

"You really really don't have to worry about it. I'm not a fool Hermione. You know – Constant Vigilance, and all that? I'm taking Moody's advice to heart. Remember him? Mr. 'You're-not-being-paranoid-if-people-are-really-out-to-get-you'? Trust me when I say that I'm taking loads of precautions."

Hermione heaved a heavy, defeated sigh and nodded hear head. "Alright, Harry. But please be careful! And you have to promise to write to us at least several times a week so we know you're alright."

Harry grimaced a little, realizing that that would be rather annoying, but it was a fairly simple step to secure their cooperation.

"Fine, but I'm probably going to by cycling owls. Hedwig is too obvious and easy to spot."

"Harry... you mentioned a 'he' earlier, so you're staying with someone specific?" Hermione began to ask hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I mean... how can you be sure you can trust this person? I understand that you can't tell us who it is or anything about him, but what do you know about him? What makes you think you can trust him?"

"I know a lot about him, actually. And I really, honestly do trust him. I trust him with my life. I know he can, and will make sure I'm safe. I'll be okay. Don't worry. I really have got this covered."

Hermione frowned sadly and her shoulders sagged somewhat but she nodded her head.

Harry went back to his reading, but paused as he realized that out of everything he had just said to his friends, it was the last statement he made that had the most truth to it.

He trusted Voldemort with his life. He'd already placed his life in the man's hands several times, in fact.

He trusted the most dangerous and deadly Dark Lord in half a millennium with his life, and he felt safer and more secure in that trust than he ever had in placing his trust in anyone else.

He cracked a smile and chuckled to himself at the insanity of it..

#Harry Potter #Tom Riddle #Dark!Harry #Tomarry #Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness..

2 notes · View notes

note-katha · 6 years ago

Text

Evenfall Chapter One

Alright, according to my notes, it’s just about time for the story to begin. Now, before we get started, we should review some very important things.

What we discuss while this story unveils you might want to keep secret. You could tell people, but then I’d tell you to expect more than a few weird looks and questions about your mental stability. If that’s what you were aiming for, go ahead!

I personally find that keeping the ongoings of Everless a much more favorable (and easier!) solution.

Secondly, I hope you don’t find yourself at a loss with all the information the story requires, I understand that there’s quite a bit you don’t know, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn! Learning is very important and you can count on me to be a wonderful teacher!

So, without further ado, let’s begin!

The Melpomene dorm was the school’s oldest dorm, the first one built and the smallest to boot. It wasn’t used as often as the other dorms, only really being used if there were too many students. Or given to a very particular type of students, which was quite rare but not unwelcome. Usually.

For one reason or the other, Kalavathi, Juli, and Ardis found themselves assigned to the dorm, taking residence alongside six others.

Taking the other suite on the single floor of the dorm was a quartet of second-year students who seemed very...odd.

While we know that there is much more to the world than humans, these people seemed to barely pass as such.

Oh yes, and filling out the fourth slot in their room was a girl named, hm, really? One moment, let me check this.

Right, yes, yes, that’s actually her name? Wow.

Filling out the fourth slot in their room was a girl named “Mary Sue”. Yes, really. I can’t believe it either.

The final person in the dorm was their “RA”, resident advisor. A relatively charming demon-type who rarely fit the assumed archetype for demons. Don’t let the horns fool you, they’re very nice. You see, however, the problem with demon names is that they’re written and pronounced in a script which is also used in magic, usually demonic specific magic. It’s not hard to say words in that script normally, but those not trained to know the difference usually face some problems.

Their name will damn any normal human that attempts to say it to another realm in which no one has ever been able to return to, so when I tell you, don’t say it out loud.

It’s Tattvagyega. They usually go by Tatti or Cels. They visit me frequently and we talk about the people trapped there. Cels visits them to apologize and bring snacks. They make a mean sugar cookie, you should try them one day.

Apologies, that was off-track, let’s focus on our main trio, yes?

Kalavathi was the first, as usual, to arrive. “So, this is my new home,” she thought aloud, as she was prone to do. “Could be worse,” she shrugged, pulling the school-provided luggage cart behind her as she walked up. Kal pulled the keys to the dorm out, this building is so old they have keys instead of cards, scary, I know. She unlocked the door, entering the quaint and warm building. She walked in backwards, in order to properly pull the cart in.

“Hello!” A voice called out to her, “Welcome! I’m your RA, Cels Ev’rals. You are?” Kal didn’t answer for a moment as she yanked the cart into the building.

“My name’s Kala—” she cut herself off with a panicked scream when she finally turned around. Cels was a demon, a Southern Demon to be exact, which meant deep red skin and curly, ram-like, horns. I can see why that would be a bit scary, especially for someone like Kal who managed to make it this far without realizing that Evenfall wasn’t normal.

Cels frowned, cocking their head to the side before glancing down. “Aw man, I forgot my glamour, didn’t I?” They, in fact, had but with a quick rambling recitation of their glamour spell, the young demon appeared far more human. A deep tan and messy brown hair replaced their demonic visage. “Better?” they asked.

Kal stared blankly for a moment, running through what had just happened in her mind. As rational as she usually was, she had had a sneaking suspicion that Evenfall wasn’t normal, one that was just confirmed. Taking into account that information she groaned. Quite loudly as she crouched to the floor.

Cels took a step forward, unsure how they could help.

“Kalavathi Nayri, I prefer Kal and I’m a Computer Science and Graphic Design double major.” She took a moment to regain her composure and stand. “On my acceptance, it said W, Creation. I have no idea what that means.”

“Oh, Creation Witch?” Cels offered, glancing at his list, “That matches up. You’re our only second circle. Nice.”

Kal opened her mouth to ask questions.

“Wait till orientation, they’ll explain better than I can.”

“Alright,” Kal nodded. “Nice to meet you, by the way, Cels,” she said, offering a hand to shake. Cels beamed as they accepted the handshake.

It was now that our second and third main characters finally managed to make their first appearances in considerably less fanfare than Kalavathi.

Ardis pushed the door open, scanning the room with a hesitant expression. Or, rather, it seemed like a mostly blank one, but that’s because Ardis isn’t the best at facial emotions. I can relate, Ardis, so don’t feel bad.

“Hello?” He called out to the two. “Uh, I’m here to move in?”

Cels waved, “Hello, welcome!” They took a few steps back, giving room for Kal and Ardis to adjust their carts, along with a third person, whom as previously mentioned, is Juli. “Welcome to Evenfall, if I can get you two’s names, I can leave you alone to unpack before your orientations.”

“Ardis Akiya-Blair, freshman Astrobiology major.”

“The Nature Witch,” Cels said aloud as they checked it off, “And you?”

“Juli Cárdenas Rivera Silva Vicente,” she answered without hesitation, “Major is currently undecided.”

“The Voice Witch, nice to meet you guys. Let me know if you have any questions! This right here,” they pointed at the entrance right beside the group, “is actually your suite. Four rooms, a full kitchen, and a common area. We’ll deal with rooming agreements tomorrow, you guys relax tonight and have fun at orientation.” Cels gave them a charming smile, as they were prone to do, smile before heading off.

“Uh, they’re not human,” Kal said as she faced the group. “Are you human? You look human but I’m not sure what to trust anymore.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m human,” Ardis nodded, “I found out about the magical thing, which might make me not human.” He shrugged, “My name’s Ardis, by the way.”

“Kalavathi, but you can call me Kal,” she answered on instinct, “Thinking about it now, I probably shouldn’t be that surprised that this school isn’t normal.”

“Yeah, I kind of just came because it was in-state for me. Magic was not expected,” Juli admitted, “Call me Jules, nice to meet you guys! We’re suitemates it seems, huh?” She grinned at them, “Then that means we gotta team up to figure out everything new we’re gonna experience.” Ah, fortunately, Jules was at the very very confident end of her confidence spectrum. Good, that’s going to help today.

There was a beat of silence and before anyone could speak, the door swung open.

“Of course, I get this kind of dorm,” someone groaned loudly as they entered.

Ah, yes, her. Mary Sue stepped into the building, her blonde hair tied up into a ponytail. A somewhat ridiculous expression of apparent irritation. Her scowl got worse as she looked around as if she had heard something.

She eyed the group, “Do you know where the RA is?”

The three pointed in the direction Cels had gone in. Without even any thanks, she walked off to find Cels.

Jules frowned lightly, but shrugged, “Hey, anyone have a preference about their rooms in the suite?”

“Let’s get into the suite first, then pick,” Kal offered, “We should head over for orientation afterward.” Aw, Kal’s trying to socialize. I’m so proud of her!

Orientation took place in the school’s amphitheater, the heart of Evenfall University’s campus and a typically beautiful place which students often used as a hangout spot.

However, now, as the sun was slowly beginning to set, students of all types that made up the freshman class were finding seats on the grass. Many whispering between each other, trying to figure out what was going on.

Not too long after our trio arrived, taking seats close to the stage, did they notice the two professor-looking adults milling about on the stage itself.

“What school does their orientation when it’s getting dark?” Kal murmured, “On top of that, what school makes their freshman wait until the day after orientation to sign up for classes?”

“It’s certainly weird,” Ardis nodded, “The school’s seemingly pretty well functioning, so I don’t think there’s much cause for worry.”

Before Kal could respond, there was a small commotion. The two professors scrambling off the main stage before an explosion of smoke erupted and spilled out of nowhere.

Lights were the first thing visible. Shapes on the grass, ones that began to light up everywhere.

A line within a triangle within a square within a pentagon, all starting from the very top of the pentagon with a small dot in the center. Ah, yes, the Five Circles of Magic! A lovely symbol.

Once the smoke dissipated, there stood a woman, brightly smiling and illuminated by the sigil beneath her feet.

“Welcome to Evenfall University!” The woman waved, “My name is Suvati Kair and I’m the Dean here at Evenfall.” Ah, yes, Suvati. Her flair for the dramatics will never end, it seems. “I’m sure many of you have questions, so allow me to explain.” With a flick of her wrist and a recitation of something that wasn’t exactly English, lights began to flicker to life around her, fifteen to be exact. “It might come as a surprise to some, though I imagine at least a few of you have figured it out, but Evenfall is home to one of many magical universities devoted to providing a place of education and safety to all students. We also work to find students with Nevermore heritage or magical background in order to educate them on their identity and abilities.” She pointed at one of the professors, “Dr. Avali here will take over to discuss the basics of what Nevermore and Everless are.”

Dr. Avali, an Angel, and not exactly the type you’ve read about, though I can see why you’d think that, with the fluffy white wings and all, took center stage.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Alex Avali, I’m a professor here, I teach a variety of mathematics classes along with the Angelic Educa class here at Evenfall University,” he began, his voice managing to ring throughout the amphitheater yet remain soft. He’s using a vocal enchantment charm, to explain. Alex loves those things, he doesn’t have to raise his voice for people to hear him. “We’ll start with what is Everless. The answer? This.” He waved his arms around, “Here is Everless. This town, this country, this continent, this world, this solar system, galaxy, universe.” Dr. Avali listed.

He glanced around, not seeing enough understanding in the students. I know I could explain it far better, but he continued. “We are the other side of the pond, but I don’t mean across the pond. Everless is the place when you jump into the pond and emerge on the other side. The other side to us is Nevermore, the birthplace of magic.”

Kal leaned forward, entranced. She didn’t need to spare a glance to her new roommates to know that they shared in her wonder.

Taglist, asked to be added or removed: @spacebrick3, @no-url-ideas-tho, @arynneva, @superwaywardangel, @likeicarusifall @aschenink, @writing-for-the-batfam, @ekrizdis, @wiccanchester

#notetalking #note writes #my writing #writing #project: evenfall

30 notes · View notes

hippychick006 · 6 years ago

Text

5.02 - Good God Y’all

I’d forgotten about this one, but on re-watch, there’s so much to love about this episode. Even with all the angst, there’s so many broments which show us how well Sam and Dean work together, even when they are at odds with one another. The story is a good one, great guest stars and lots of clever little details that make it enjoyable to watch.

For anyone skipping these, I will say that this episode addresses Kripke’s view of Jo and Ellen being hunters.

Sam and Dean appear to be pretending that everything is okay after the drama of the last episode. So fine, we’ll do that too. Dean arrives to join Sam outside Bobby’s hospital room. He’s been to radiology and “got some glamour shots.” Sam looks at the chest x-ray which shows Dean’s ribs are covered in sigils. Cool effect.

Sam’s phone rings. Sam answers “Hello… (then confused) Castiel?”. All we hear is Sam’s side of the conversation as he says where he is. This sounds like the first time Castiel has ever called either of them so Sastiel for the win!.

Cass appears walking down the corridor a few seconds later. Dean questions the use of the cell phone. Cass reminds that they are hidden from all angels (which includes him) so he’s having to resort to phoning to find out where they are.

Bobby interjects with the line “enough foreplay”. I squint, is this pandering? I think it is (but if so, I’m claiming wincestiel for the win!). Amazing that back then it didn’t annoy me, but after several years of hellers and their nonsense, I’m more aware of it. Bobby demands to be healed (as he’s now in a wheelchair). Castiel says he can’t as he’s cut off from heaven’s power. There’s certain things he can do, and certain things he can’t (let’s try to keep an eye on Cass’ powers changing, depending on the plot). Since Cass can’t heal him, Bobby has no further use in him and goes back to staring out the window.

Cass says he doesn’t have much time, but they need to talk. I like their talk, which is basically Castiel telling them their plan to kill Lucifer is foolish and cannot be done. Dean: “Oh, thanks for the support. Castiel does have a solution though, he’s going to find god. Dean can’t get his head around this. Dean: God? Castiel: Yes. Dean again: God? Love it. Castiel insists that if God isn’t in heaven, then he has to be somewhere (which is a fair point). Dean tells him to “try New Mexico. I hear he’s on a taco”

Castiel (perfectly serious): No, he’s not on any flatbread.

Dean and Castiel have a debate about whether God even exists and if he does, he doesn’t care about anyone. The debate ends with Castiel advancing on Dean (again, this is not anything other than an aggressive move on the part of Castiel. “I killed 2 angels this week. My brothers. I’m hunted. I rebelled. I did it for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world… (Sam looks guilty)… And I lost everything for nothing, so keep your opinions to yourself.”

Okay, excuse me for ten minutes, while I bitch-slap Castiel to the Empty! WTF even? Did you forget your own part and the bigger angel’s part that the whole reason there is a freaking apocalypse that needs to be stopped in the first place is BECAUSE YOU ALL ORCHESTRATED IT! But no, let’s continue to blame the 2 humans that would have preferred to have nothing to do with it, thank you very much.

It’s very interesting that Sam is silent throughout all of this. I don’t want to burst the Heller bubble, but it has nothing to do with the non-existent chemistry between Castiel and Dean, and everything to do with Sam keeping his head down and staying out of the way. Particularly, in any conversations where he would be at risk of disagreeing with Dean right now (as we know he has faith in God and would likely be in agreement with Castiel here that it’s a good option to follow).

Sadly, none of them call Castiel out on his bullshit version of events and instead ask what he wants. Turns out to be a very rare and powerful amulet that burns hot in God’s presence. Bobby says he has nothing like that, and Castiel agrees “I know, you don’t”. He looks at Dean, then down at the Samulet. Reluctantly, and after a debate, Dean eventually hands it over, on the condition that Cass does not lose it (and nope, I will not think about the end of Dark Side of the Moon right now, I’ll get to that episode soon enough).

Rufus is back! Love him. He looks to be in a shootout. He pulls a young man that’s been shot behind a car for safety, quickly administers field first aid, then makes a phone call. I want to point out that Rufus pressed a single number, so he obviously has Bobby on speed dial! The connection is bad, but we manage to ascertain that Rufus needs help – and we know straight away that things must be bad if Rufus is asking for help.

Sam and Dean go to help. The bridge to the town is down. Sam checks his phone and doesn’t get signal. They’ll have to hike in which gives us all a good opportunity to listen to Spirit in the Sky by Norman Greenbaum as they walk down the street. I absolutely love this scene as they silently work together, taking in their surroundings; including a sporting goods store, the deserted streets, a crashed car in the middle of the street and an abandoned one further up. I also love that the quality of the sound of the song changes from being crystal clear as part of the soundtrack, to that of a tinny sound coming from the radio of the abandoned car as they reach it. Brilliant. Sam reaches in and turns the engine off and the music stops. And it’s these details that made the show stand out for me.

They pass under a banner which says “75th anniversary of Pioneer Day” so the streets really should be a bit busier than they are, but there’s no one around.

They also pass a red Mustang, and I love, love, love this. Sam moves on when he sees there isn’t any risk, Dean stops and admires it. Again, it’s just the little details like this that remind me of how good this show can be.

They continue on and out of nowhere, someone appears behind them and they hear a gun click. Dean’s reflexes are good, he swings around, gun raised. Sam’s just lucky it turns out to be Ellen.

Ellen says, “Hello boys”.

Wait, did Crowley steal that line from Ellen?

Ellen’s welcome consists of spraying Dean in the face with holy water, hugging him, then slapping him and giving him a lecture for not keeping in touch. Sam gets let off lightly with no holy water, no hug and only a glare during the lecture. Ellen brings them up to speed, Rufus was originally investigating omens, then the whole town got possessed, with the exception of the people in the room she’s brought them to. She and Jo were nearby. Dean checks: “You’re hunting with Jo?” Ellen confirms yes, but they got separated and can’t find Rufus either.

Sam looks around and says they’ve got to get everyone out (it’s clear the people aren’t hunters). Ellen says they’ve already tried once and that there used to be twenty of them. Sam and Dean do a quick headcount and only ten remain (excluding them). After a discussion, they agree they’ll need the civilians to arm up to give them a better chance of getting out. Sam and Dean will head to the sporting goods store they passed earlier to get more guns.

Dean stops Sam and suggests that Dean goes himself while Sam starts teaching “Shotgun 101”. Sam logically says Ellen. (as in Ellen can teach them). He tries to leave again but Dean stops him saying it will be a lot faster if Sam stays and helps.

Sarcastic!Sam alert: While you go get guns and salt and look for Jo and Rufus? That’s stupid.

Dean says he can handle it.

Sam’s face as he realises what’s going on. “You don’t want me going out there.”

Dean: I didn’t say that

Sam: ...around demons

Dean: I didn’t say that

Sam: Fine, then let’s go

They get to the mini market, Sam suggests he get the salt, while Dean get the guns from the sporting goods store. Dean says they’ll go together. Sam’s getting a little miffed at this point, “Dean, it’s right there, can we at least do this like professionals?”

Sam is behind a shelf, bagging up the salt when two demons come into the store. Sam originally tries to exorcise the first demon but soon has to give up and stab him. He also stabs the second. If this was my first watch through, I’d be questioning if the budget had been cut for the orange flashing when the demon killing knife is used, but I already know why those effects are missing. Sam looks at the blood on the floor and then on the demon killing knife and seems mesmerised. He stops when he hears someone else come into the store. He hides behind the shelves, but then hears “Sammy” from Dean. He stands in relief. Dean gets closer and sees what’s happened and we get a look from Judgy McJudgerson. I do completely understand though why Dean would have trust issues with Sam in terms of the demon blood drinking. He’s just going about it the wrong way.

Back at the hideout, I hope no one will need to rely on Roger the businessman – who can’t even put the shells into the shotgun, let alone shoot it. Sam’s helping the pregnant couple who seem to be doing slightly better. Dean’s with another guy who he asks if he knows his way around a weapon. The guy (Austin) expertly strips down the gun he’s been given, and Dean asks where he served because he’s clearly military. Austin in turn asks where Dean served, Dean says hell.

A little later, Dean sees Sam sitting alone so he goes to join him. He knows Sam’s brooding about something and asks him what’s wrong. Sam’s upset about the teenagers he just killed. Dean says that Sam had no choice, and Sam agrees, but wishes he could save people like he used to.

Dean: What, you mean when you were all hopped up on demon blood?

Sam: I didn’t say that.

Ellen interrupts the broment. She wants to go and find Jo. They both stand up and Sam says he’ll go with her. Dean has something to say about that. They go slightly outside the room and Dean says, “you’re gonna go out there again?”

Sarcastic!Sam alert: Well, crap doesn’t hit the fan with coffee breaks.

Dean suggests he’ll go, but Sam says he’s got it. Dean: “Why’s it got to be you?” Sam rolls his eyes, and says, “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. You think I’ll take one look at a demon and suddenly fall off the wagon, as if, after everything, I haven’t learned my lesson.

Dean (pause): Well, have you?

I’ve got to question sometimes whether Dean really does know Sam as well as he thinks he does, as even I know that’s going to cause a reaction. Sam shoves Dean but otherwise stays clear. Ellen hears and looks over. Sam continues, “If you actually think I…”. He stops and walks away.

I think I’m supposed to see there are still anger issues with Sam in this scene, but since I remember episodes like 4.04, with perfect clarity, it’s not working on me.

Ellen and Sam talk as they search the streets. Or rather, Ellen talks as she asks Sam what’s going on between him and Dean. Sam says just stresses of the job and changes the subject. This next bit is very important for when we were having a discussion a while back about Jo and Ellen being “wannabe hunters”

Sam: Kind of surprised you and Jo hunting. Weren’t you always saying she couldn’t hack the life?

Ellen: She can’t. But if she’s gonna do it anyway…

Sam: You want to keep an eye on her

Still score of 0 on the wannabe hunter front.

They see smoke and go to investigate. They see a demon at the window of a house. Sam says demons don’t get cold and wonders what they are burning. As Sam moves forward to investigate, Ellen is yanked back, and a fight commences. We see Jo and two other demons, both of whom concentrate on Sam, while Jo and Ellen fight. We see Jo’s eyes turn black.

Ellen: Don’t you hurt her, don’t you…

Jo: Give me my mom back, you black eyed bitch!

Wait what? Ellen also looks confused and she shoves Jo back and hits her with the rifle. Sam tells her to run as he cocks his rifle, but he’s hit from behind. We get a lovely shot of Sam looking up at his attacker, it’s Rufus and his eyes are black. The camera focus goes woozy as Sam loses consciousness and I like this effect.

Love, love, love this next scene. Sam comes to and he’s tied to a chair. Rufus and Jo are in the room (eyes are still black). Sam struggles to get free, but Rufus is a proper hunter (apart from the whole lighting the fireplace thing, which, really Rufus?). He says there’s no way Sam’s getting out of those as he tied the ropes himself. He calls Sam an evil son of a bitch and backhands him. Jo follows up with holy water. Jo looks confused when nothing happens. Rufus isn’t taking chances and steps forward. We don’t see what he’s holding, but Sam does, and he starts pleading, “no, wait, wait, wait…”. Rufus grabs Sam’s head forcing it back with Jo’s help. Sam’s still pleading, but Rufus pours salt down Sam’s throat while exorcising him.

Dean’s pacing, a knock on the door and he rushes to answer it (don’t worry, he checked the spy hole first). It’s Ellen, alone, and predictably, Dean asks, “Where’s Sam?” Ellen shakes her head. Dean does what he always does, grabs his gun to go after Sammy. Except he forces himself to stop and comes back, saying they need a plan first and for Ellen to tell him everything.

Back at where Sam is being held. Rufus and Jo are still trying to exorcise him. They see nothings happening so stop. Sam’s still pleading with them, telling them that something isn’t right. Jo throws the water in Sam’s face again. When she goes to get something else, we see Roger, the businessman (from back at the other hideout) at the door, and he should not be there. We see him twist his ring (which he has a habit of doing). Sam looks confused that he’s there. He looks around and sees the demon trap above him. He tries to get Jo and Rufus to listen, but they are having a conversation about why the exorcism isn’t working. Rufus looks back at Sam, we see that Sam’s eyes are now black and Rufus’ eyes are not. Sam implores them again that something isn’t right.

Back at where Dean is, Ellen tells Dean that one of the demon’s is inside Jo and they need to get it out without hurting her. She says it called her a bitch. Dean says Ellen’s bruising a little easy, and Ellen elaborates that it called her a black-eyed bitch. They can’t figure out what kind of demons they are dealing with since salt and holy water don’t work and that “my daughter may be an idiot, but she’s not stupid. She wears an anti-possession charm…”

Wait, you’ve remembered about these have you? Then why in the last episode (written by Eric himself) was Bobby possessed by a demon, without explanation?

Ellen asks Dean what his instinct is, and he says to phone Bobby or Sam. Ellen responds “Well tough! All you got’s me and all I got’s you. So, let’s figure it out.”

I’ll take this moment to say that although Sam and Dean are separated in this one for part of the episode, they are both with guest stars that are watchable, and the story is entertaining and interesting.

Together, along with a priest and one of the survivors (but mainly Dean), they figure out they are dealing with Revelations eight ten. “And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood. And many men died.” This predicts the four horsemen. Dean asks which one rides the red horse. Clever, clever boy. The pastor responds War.

They work through the information they now have and figure out that War might just be messing with their heads; that no one is a demon and they are all just killing each other.

Pastor: Wait, back up. It’s the apocalypse?

Come on Padre, try to keep up!

Back with Sam, Roger walks in to the room. Sam straightens up as he assesses Roger and I love how Jared does these simple moves with his body, Sam’s not messing around, “Who the hell are you?” Roger takes off his glasses and Sam amends, “What are you?” This whole scene between them is amazing and kudos to the guest star.

Fake!Roger fesses up to being caught. He just popped in to watch. The real Roger is buried in a ditch. Fake! Roger closes the door and pulls over a chair. Sam asks again who he is.

Fake!Roger: Here's a hint. I was in Germany. Then in Germany. Then in the Middle East. I was in Darfur when my beeper went off… I'm waiting to hook up with my siblings…. I've got three. We're going to have so much fun together.

Sam nods: I know who you are.

I love that Sam and Dean are separated, but both come to the same conclusion about who they are dealing with.

War says he didn’t have to do much to get the people to attack each other. Sam says no, this is all War’s doing. People are only stabbing each other, because he made them see demons.

War: Honestly, people don't need a reason to kill each other. I mean, you seen the Irish? They're all Irish!

Sam: I'm gonna kill you myself.

War (laughing): Oh, that's adorable, considering you're my poster boy.

Sam: What's that supposed to mean?

War: You can't stop thinking about it, ever since you saw it dripping off the blade of that knife.

Sam says the demon is wrong, but we can see that he isn’t.

War: Save your protests for your brother. I can see inside your head. And man, it is one-track city in there. Blood, blood, blood. Lust for power. Same as always. You want to be strong again. But not just strong. Stronger than everybody. Good intentions—quick slide to hell, buddy boy. You feel bad now? Wait till you're thigh deep in warm corpses. Because, my friend, I'm just getting started.

And this is where I get annoyed with the narrative. We keep getting told that people can see inside Sam, that he has a lust for power. And I’m…? Show me that lust for power or get Sam himself to talk about it. Because if he does have it, then Sam Winchester is a lot stronger person than anyone is giving him credit for, because he’s never used it, for anything other than to try to do good.

War stands up and puts his glasses back on. He twists his ring. Blood flows down his forehead. He kicks over his chair, drops to the floor, and screams. Rufus kicks the door open, Jo is right behind him. War says “He did it!” Sam protests, but all Rufus sees is a demon. Sam is not helped by War who is still causing drama saying the others are coming to get us. Sam gets backhanded again.

Roger goes back to the original hideout to cause trouble there. He says he saw the demons and they said they’re going to pick everyone off one by one (and they let Roger go because?). Dean argues there are no demons, Austin disagrees. Dean tries to get them to stop, but War twists his ring and says Ellen and Dean are demons. The survivors turn on them and Dean and Ellen have to run.

Back where Sam is, Rufus and Jo are preparing defences with pipe bombs. Jo says pipe bombs won’t kill demons.

Rufus: Right. But in my experience, demons come at you slower if they’re in a body with no limbs

Jo reminds Rufus that one of them is Ellen and he says he’ll do everything he can, that Ellen will be okay.

Jo (nodding): Unless she comes through that window

Awkward silence.

A little later, the pipe bomb explodes. They investigate, Rufus gets pulled through the blown out window and Jo is attacked from behind. It turns out to be Dean and Ellen. Dean fights Rufus, and eventually gets him to see that he’s not a demon.

Austin is leading the civilians on an attack on the other house. Not sure why he’s doing this and not trying to lead them to safety. Anyway, he shoots at the house.

Dean: Damn it! Where's Sam?

Rufus tells him upstairs and Dean goes to get Sam. This next bit is winsync

Sam: Dean. It's not demons.

They speak together: It’s war.

Dean says he just can’t figure out how war is doing it, and Sam says the ring.

Great moments spread all the way through this episode that show the brothers are better when they are working together, rather than at odds with one another.

There’s shooting between Ellen’s survivors and the ones Rufus had. Rufus is trying to stop them, but it’s too late and the Pastor gets shot. Ellen goes to help but is attacked by Austin. He pulls the trigger but luckily for Ellen, he’s out of bullets, but he does have a back-up knife.

War is making his escape to his car. Dean and Sam grab him. While Dean holds War, Sam pulls out the demon killing knife.

War: Whoa. Okay. That's a sweet little knife. But come on. You can't kill war, kiddos.

Dean: Oh, we know

Sam grabs War’s ring hand and cuts all the fingers off.

We see Ellen’s eyes are no longer black, Austin stops trying to kill her.

Dean picks up the ring that had fallen on the ground,, War and his car (and I think his severed fingers) have disappeared.

Dean and Sam are sitting at a picnic table, Dean holds up the ring. Dean: So, pit at Mount Doom? Heh! That doesn’t get a smile out of Sam though. He goes to speak but Dean stops him. Sam pushes on though, says it’s important, that he knows Dean doesn’t trust him, but Sam goes on to say he doesn’t trust himself either.

Sam: From the minute I saw that blood, only thought in my head...and I tell myself it's for the right reasons, my intentions are good, and it, it feels true, you know? But I think, underneath...I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds, which means I know how messed up I am. Thing is, the problem's not the demon blood, not really. I mean, I, what I did, I can't blame the blood or Ruby or...anything. The problem's me. How far I'll go. There's something in me that...scares the hell out of me, Dean. In the last couple of days, I caught another glimpse...

Okay, so finally, we’re hearing from Sam himself that he’s scared of what’s inside him. That’s all I’ve been asking for. This is a good admission on Sam’s part that he’s struggling and he’s still not right. This is where Dean’s detox went wrong. Step 1 is always for the person themselves to admit they have an issue.

The remainder of the conversation is probably one of the most honest ones the brothers have ever had. Sam admits he’s not fit to hunt and needs to take a step back. He suggests they go their separate ways.

Dean thinks about that and says: Well, I think you're right.

Sam: I was expecting a fight.

Dean: The truth is I spend more time worrying about you than about doing the job right. And I just, I can't afford that, you know? Not now.

Sam nods and says he’s sorry. Dean: I know you are, Sam.

Sam moves to stand up and Dean asks if he wants to take the Impala. Sam says it’s okay and walks away, turning back and tells Dean to take care of himself. Dean: Yeah, you too, Sammy.

We watch as Sam walks to the Impala, grabs his gear and hitches a lift with a truck parked at the picnic spot.

I think this is a good move on the brothers part. If they had continued working together the way they are, their relationship might be in danger of becoming irreparable, so space is a good thing right now for both of them.

Onwards to Free to be you and me.

#supernatural #season 5 #rewatch #5.02 #good god y'all #episode recap

11 notes · View notes

hermanwatts · 4 years ago

Text

Sensor Sweep: Battle Tech, Manly Wade Wellman, Savage Heroes, Space Force

Science Fiction (Tor.com): Anyone who has played Traveller (or even just played with online character generation sites like this one) might have noticed that a surprising number of the characters one can generate are skilled with blades. This may see as an odd choice for a game like Traveller that is set in the 57th century CE, or indeed for any game in which swords and starships co-exist. Why do game authors make these choices? Just as games mix swords and starships, so do SFF novels. The trope goes way back, to the planetary romance novels of the Golden Age. Here are five examples.

Fiction Review (Legends of Men): Savage Heroes is a sword & sorcery anthology that’s pretty rare in the U.S. That’s because it’s a U.K. publication. The first S&S anthology I reviewed was Swords Against Darkness. It’s a great anthology that came highly recommended by an expert scholar in the field. Savage Heroes is better though. It captures very well the combination of historical adventure, lost world fiction, and cosmic horror that makes Sword and Sorcery unique.

Fiction (Wasteland & Sky): Hard-boiled noir is an interesting subgenre. It’s mostly remembered in the mainstream, if at all, for cheesy parodies that family sitcoms and cartoon used to do back in the 1990s. What it is remembered for is as a genre about hapless detectives in black and white 1930s settings having to find a killer among a cast of twelve or so shifty character archetypes. Plenty of fun is poked, but they hardly take the genre seriously.

Science Fiction (Scifi Scribe): We’ve all seen the memes, right? The minute the world started talking about the mere idea of a United States Space Force, we were all instantly greeted by “LOL, Space National Guard/Space Force Reserves!” All joking aside, the irreverent interservice banter and, shall we say, “robust,” back-and-forth on social media reflects the very real, and very important, national-level discussions about creating a new military service branch.

Cinema (Jon Mollison): The birth of Dungeons and Dragons is a strange and fascinating story of how creatives can draw forth order from the froth of chaos. I went into this film expecting a lot of defensive snark about how Gary Gygax was a Johnny-come-lately who yoinked the idea of RPGs out from under Dave Arneson’s nose. A fraudulent Edison to Arneson’s Tesla, if you will. And there are hints of that within this film, but only hints.

Art (Mutual Art): Theron Kabrich quietly gazes at Roger Dean’s watercolor, The Gates of Delirium. He has been Dean’s friend and representative at the San Francisco Art Exchange for thirty years, selling his paintings, drawings, and prints to an international audience of collectors. Millions of copies of the image have been made. If Tolkien’s timeless classic inspired Dean’s enduring fascination with pathways at the beginning of his career, it is Robert McFarlane’s writing about wandering journeys along the ancient tracks twisting through the British landscape that have his attention in the present.

Art (DMR Books): Stephen Fabian, as I’ve pointed out before, is a living legend in the fantasy art community. His output from the 1970s to the 2000s—both in quality and quantity—can only be called astounding. I covered some of that in my three-part series on his Robert E. Howard-related art. However, a friend of mine recently brought Fabian’s artwork for In Lovecraft’s Shadow to my attention. That book, in some respects, may be Stephen’s greatest sustained work. In Lovecraft’s Shadow was a collection of August Derleth’s Lovecraftian fiction published in 1998 through a joint venture by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box and Mycroft & Moran.

Review (Tea at Trianon): I remember as a twenty-two-year-old being excited when I saw a new book called the The Mists of Avalon by an author called Marion Zimmer Bradley. Mists was presented as the retelling of the Arthurian legend from the point of view of the women of Camelot, which I thought was a thrilling idea. However, I found the book heavy on paganism and morbid, explicit sex scenes, but light on romance, heroism, chivalry, mystery, faith and all the qualities I had come to love in the Camelot stories. This brings us to Moira Greyland’s recent book, The Last Closet: The Dark Side of Avalon.

Fiction (Adventures Fantastic): I’m going to look at three of his stories that feature the same character, Sergeant Jaeger. First is “Fearful Rock”. Originally published in the February 1939 issue of Weird Tales, the central character of this novella is Lt. Lanark. He and Jaeger are leading a cavalry patrol in Missouri during the Civil War, looking for Quantrill. What they find is a young woman being sacrificed by her step-father to the Nameless One in an abandoned house under the shadow of a formation known as Fearful Rock.

Fiction (DMR Books): Tanith Lee was a force to be reckoned with in the ’70s, ’80s and on into the ’90s. She exploded onto the SFF scene with her debut novel for DAW Books, The Birthgrave. That book was labeled at the time as being “sword-and-sorcery”. I would probably call it heroic fantasy, but it remains a minor classic regardless of specific sub-category. During her forty-plus-year career, Tanith published ninety novels and a myriad of short stories. Her prolificity was on display right away. She quickly followed up The Birthgrave with more notable books like The Storm Lord and Volkhavaar, along with short stories like “Odds Against the Gods” published in Swords Against Darkness II.

Science Fiction (Men of the West): The book. Not the movie. If you can even call Verhoeven’s bastardization “Starship Troopers” at all. Robert A. Heinlein is an increasingly controversial figure in recent years, moreso than he was in his lifetime. This, of course, is due to his dubious content in his later career. But he was nothing if not influential on the genre, and his early works, such as his juvenile novels (of which this was the last), remain worth a read. We may go into Heinlein’s other works later, but the focus is not so much on the man as on the book.

D&D (Jeffro’s Space Gaming Blog): I think Gygax is pretty clear about how initiative works in the DMG. (His surprise rules do make a bit of static, though.) Here’s my take on it: 1) DM decides what the monsters will do. Check reaction and/or morale if need be. 2) Players declare their actions. If they want to win at rpgs, they will advise a high t caller who will then speak for group.

Cthulhu Mythos (Marzaat): “Bells of Horror”, Henry Kuttner, 1939. This is a fairly good bit of Lovecraftian fiction from Kuttner. He uses a typical Lovecraft structure. Our narrator opens by mentioning a weird event then gives the back story of what led up to it and concludes with a not all surprising event. (Sometimes Lovecraft managed to surprise with his last lines, sometimes not.)

Authors (Goodman Games): While all of Wellman’s oeuvre is worth reading, it is his Silver John stories that most impacted the world of fantasy role-playing. Wellman is one of the names on Gygax’s Appendix N roster of influential authors. Although no specific title is listed alongside his name, it’s been suggested that the character of Silver John influenced the bard class in D&D—a wandering troubadour who uses song, magic, and knowledge to defeat supernatural menaces. Stripped of the pseudo-medieval trappings of D&D, the bard and Silver John become almost indistinguishable from one another.

Pulp Art (Dark Worlds Quarterly): It shouldn’t be any surprise that the artists that illustrated Short Stories would appear in Weird Tales and vice versa, though to a lesser degree. Fred Humiston is a good example. For many years, he illustrated half of each issue of Short Stories along with Edgar Wittmack.

Cinema (Film School Rejects): Most movie fans associate Martin Campbell with the Bond franchise and other blockbusters. However, before he became one of Hollywood’s A-list directors, he helmed Cast a Deadly Spell, a genre-bending TV movie that originally aired on HBO back in 1991. It isn’t the most known movie in his oeuvre, but it’s easily one of his most entertaining and rewatchable efforts.

Tolkien (Monsters and Manuals): I have no idea what Tolkien had in mind for the geography of Rhun and the peoples within it. But it seems to me that, while one shouldn’t think of Middle Earth as being too closely paralleled with the real world, there is a case to be made that its character is roughly akin to the Eurasian steppe this side of the Urals – more specifically the Pontic Steppe north of the Black Sea (with the Sea of Rhun here being a bit like the Black Sea).

Gaming ( Walker’s Retreat): The other day I posted a new BattleTech lore video. I mentioned that the channel posting that video did more to promote BattleTech than anything that the current owners of the property–Catalyst Game Labs–have done. All of the other lore channels and battle report channels contribute to this effort, and it helps that Harebrained’s adaptation is very close (but not identical, which it should have been) to the tabletop game, but there’s sweet fuck-all for marketing from the company itself.

Sensor Sweep: Battle Tech, Manly Wade Wellman, Savage Heroes, Space Force published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

0 notes