#wonder if r would be more scarred to know hes agreeing with the devil (the blacks) or the other way around

[padfootastic]

Sirius gets a bunch of various lethal presents from his family post-Prank, and each one is a message of “just do the killing yourself.” Bella sent a cursed set of knives that cause agony to whoever they’re used on, Narcissa sent along a bunch of poisons, Andromeda sent along some kind of enchanted communication method so she can alibi him out as well as more enchanted knives but these always hit the target, Regulus handed him a hand of glory after class one day and Sirius really wants to know why Regulus even had this thing (he stares at his brother for a couple seconds before just shrugging and thanking Regulus, and telling Regulus that he’ll let the Slytherin team win the Quidditch game this weekend as a thank you and Regulus very nearly beats his brother with that Hand of Glory because Slytherin doesn’t need victories just handed to them and they win on their own; Sirius raises an eyebrow and hums under his breath, and Regulus has to leave before he commits fratricide), and even their parents get in on the murder presents, sending on a bunch of Dark books that may not be banned but that’s more likely because nobody remembered they existed than anything else. The Marauders are sitting at the breakfast table, looking at these murder gifts Sirius just received with his mail, and none of them have a clue what to say, there’s no rule book for “your best friend’s bizarre and homicidal family just sent him a bunch of murder methods, right in front of your breakfast.” It’s totally silent at that part of the Gryffindor table, all of them staring at the gifts (aside from Sirius, who’s focusing on Narcissa’s letter that details the different poisons she sent)

sksksks imagining sirius dealing with the disappointment of not just his friends (which like, only really means remus lbr) but also his family.

the only difference (and quite a big one too) is that the former is because he tried to kill someone and the latter is because he didnt do it properly. which is obviously the bigger problem here. the blacks have got their priorities straight.

so, sirius is stuck in the middle juggling to diametrically opposing judgements. no wonder poor guy was so tortured. literally being pulled in two directions.

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 5

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Raphael is in a good mood. He teaches Tav how to play the organ and sings The Song™ to her under very special circumstances. At the same time, Gale is worried and tries to make a rescue plan with Astarion and Shadowheart.

(AN: I know absolutely nothing about music so bear with me if I use the wrong terminology. I can warmly recommend to also listen to the song while reading *that part*. Enjoy a look into Raphael's questionable flirting techniques and some very very spicy organ lessons.)

WARNING: NSFW

Tav had decided not to glamour her face and keep her burn scars visible. She had looked in the mirror in the morning and found that she agreed with Raphael: they did suit her, in an odd way. She felt that she looked more like herself with them, albeit a version of herself that she had not seen for years.

Tav spent the day with Cassius watching her, much to her dismay. He was the only one in the House of Hope who still treated her as a prisoner. He had hated her guts since she cast that sleep spell on him to contact her friends and then convinced him not to say anything.

Cassius did not even try to hide his reaction to her scars. There was a look of slight disgust on his face as he looked at them. Then again, Tav thought. That could also just be his face. Cassius tended to look at her with that annoying sneer as if she was below him, which she had largely begun to ignore.

She started wondering whether there might be more to his clear dislike for her. It did not go past her that Cassius had visited Raphael privately in his boudoir one or two times during the first couple of days of her imprisonment.

Although, she had not noticed any visits between them after her and Raphael had sex that one time. Was it possible that the tiefling was jealous of her in some odd way? Cassius had probably been Raphael’s new favorite pet until she was forcibly dragged to the House of Hope to sleep in his master’s bed each night and take up a considerable amount of his attention.

It was hard for her to garner any sort of sympathy for Cassius though. He treated her like dirt and often tried to provoke her whenever he was tasked to watch her for the day. Whatever was up the warlock’s ass, Tav did not feel responsible for whatever ill feelings he might have towards her. He could take it up with Raphael if he so pleased.

She was waking up from a nap when she heard music playing somewhere in the house. She rolled out of bed and started walking out of the boudoir with Cassius at her heels.

“Where are you going?” Cassius asked.

“Does it matter when you’re tasked with following me anyways?” Tav asked tiredly at his comment.

“You disturb him all the time,” Cassius said, knowing she was on her way to find Raphael. “You don’t think it would be possible that he’d want a moment of peace?”

“If he wanted peace, he shouldn’t have given me free roam of the house,” Tav said. “Or have denied me my own little moment of peace, for that matter…”

“Suit yourself, but one day you will get on his nerves and then he might be inclined to teach you your place,” Cassius said with a sneer.

“It’s really cute that you worry so much about me,” Tav teased him, just to piss him off.

The music got louder as they got to the archive. Tav stuck her head in to greet Raphael with a smile. He was in his human form. Raphael stopped playing the organ and gave her a smile back. He seemed to be in a good mood for some reason.

“It sounds good,” Tav said. “You don’t mind if I sit and read while you’re playing, do you?”

“Please,” Raphael said and gestured to a nearby chair.

Tav widened her smile and threw a glance at Cassius who was awkwardly standing at the entrance, glaring daggers at her. Raphael did not even acknowledge his presence. She sat down with a book, and he started playing again.

“Do you play, mouse?” Raphael asked and looked at her. He was still playing perfectly on the organ despite not even looking at the keys.

The melody he was playing reminded her of a predator slowly sneaking up on its prey. It sounded beautiful but it was also quite dark. Just what she would expect from someone like him.

“I did a little bit once,” she answered and then gestured to his fingers that were elegantly dancing over the keys with ease. “Nothing as complicated as that though.”

“It really is not that complicated,” he said and then stopped playing to hold a hand out to her. “Let me show you.”

The smirk on his face told her that he was up to something, but she took his hand regardless. In one swift movement, he pulled her closer and seated her in his lap. Her eyes widened a bit at the gesture.

“You certainly seem to be in high spirits tonight,” she noted.

“I am,” he said and rested his chin on her shoulder to look at the keys. “I closed a deal that has been quite the headache for me and successfully retrieved something of mine.”

“Do I want to know the specifics?” Tav asked.

She did not particularly want to know which poor bastard Raphael had roped into giving him their soul, but she was worried that he might be talking about her companions.

“It has nothing to do with your dear little friends, if that is what you are asking,” Raphael said as if he had read her mind and grabbed her hands to move them to the keys in front of her. “Now concentrate.”

He showed her what she knew was a simplified version of the melody he had just been playing. She could not play as fast or as elegantly as Raphael did, but she gave it a try.

“Good,” he purred in her ear and snaked an arm around her waist, making it even more difficult for her to play. “Keep practicing.”

Raphael shifted his head away from her shoulder to look at Cassius for a moment.

“You can go home for the day,” Raphael said to him absentmindedly and then turned his attention back to Tav.  

Tav could see Cassius at the corner of her eye. He looked pissed. He gave Raphael a forced smile and a bow before leaving.

“I see that your health has improved after our little accident last night,” Raphael said. “I also could not help but notice that you decided to keep your scars present like I told you to.”

Tav smiled at the word choice of ‘our little accident’ as if she was to blame as well for him almost killing her. She decided to ignore it.

“I did,” Tav said. “But not because you told me to.”

Raphael chuckled. She would not give him the satisfaction of telling him that he was right, and he knew it.

“Stubborn as ever,” he said. “What did you do today?”

“Napped,” she answered, while still trying to get the hang of the melody.

“How productive,” Raphael said sarcastically and corrected the position of her fingers on the organ. “Am I wrong in assuming that you might be growing a tad bored?”

“It’s hard to do anything with someone watching you all the time…” she said. “Besides…I do miss some of my old books,”

“Hm,” he hummed. “Did you have a favorite?”

“I do but it’s embarrassing…and terribly cliché…” she said and stopped playing for a moment.

Tav’s favorite book was an old romantic tragedy that was well-known to be the favorite novel of just about every woman in Faerûn.

“Don’t be shy,” Raphael purred.

“’A Star in the Darkness’ by Bibella Aldath…” she answered and started playing again.

“Yes, that is rather cliché, dear,” Raphael said and chuckled. “Not a horrible read by any means, but I did expect something slightly more exciting from a former librarian…”

Tav was slowly getting the hang of the melody and her fingers moved over the organ’s keys a little easier now that she had played it a couple of times.

“Better,” he purred in her ear. “You know, this is a very special composition of mine…”

“Oh?” Tav said and kept playing.

“It would have been the very last thing you and your dear friends would ever hear had you decided to steal your contract that day when you robbed my house,” Raphael said. She could practically hear the smile on his face.

“Oh, you wrote music just for us?” Tav asked with amusement in her voice. “How thoughtful of you. It’s such a shame we didn’t get to hear it then.”

“Isn’t it just?” Raphael asked. “But there is time for it yet…when your friends finally decide to pay us a visit.”

Good luck with that, Tav thought.

Tav stopped playing for a moment when she felt Raphael’s hands slowly caress her sides.

“Don’t let me distract you,” he said. “Keep playing.”

She did, but it was getting increasingly difficult not to mess up when he was touching her like that. She felt her body heat up at his touches.

He nuzzled his nose into the back of her hair, taking in her smell. His hand gently moved one of the straps of her top, so that it slipped off her shoulder. He left a soft kiss where the strap had been and slowly trailed his kisses up towards her neck. It was hard to hide how her breathing got shallower.

It made her fingers fall over a few of the keys, which made him smile against her neck.

“How clumsy of you, my dear,” he whispered into her ear. “Try again.”

She took a slow breath and kept playing. The hand that had been caressing her side was snaking up her stomach towards one of her breasts. She took another slow deep breath to not lose focus.

He started fondling her breast through the silk of the top she was wearing. He continued slowly kissing his way up her neck as he touched her. She felt her nipples hardening and once again she played the wrong keys.

“Tut-tut…I really would have expected a wizard of your caliber to have much better grasp on their concentration,” Raphael said and bit firmly but not hard on her neck.

“It is also really rare that someone is touching me while I cast spells,” she said with what was supposed to be frustration, but the breathiness of her voice revealed how much she was into it.

He smirked against her neck.

“Keep playing…” he ordered again.

She did. His hand moved from her breasts to between her legs. She was already soaked when his hand slid under the waistband of her pants, and he started teasing her with his fingers. She did manage to keep her focus on playing…for about a minute. He stopped the movements of his fingers the second she stopped playing.

“Keep going, mouse,” he whispered in her ear. “And I might give you what you want.”

She bit her lip and put her full focus into playing that damned melody that would most likely be stuck in her head for days. Tav had gotten the impression of Raphael as a selfish lover the last time they fucked. She quickly learned that the man absolutely knew what he was doing when he put the effort in to please someone.

The way he was touching her quickly turned her into a moaning mess and he somehow knew that she was getting close. He stopped his movements for a moment, making her whine in frustration.

“From the top,” he ordered and placed another kiss on her neck.

Tav did as she was told and played the melody from its beginning.

That is when he started singing.

His hand started moving between her legs again, making her moan. There were a lot of feelings going through her. Her eyes widened in amusement and surprise as he started singing. He sang in a lowered voice, taking her close proximity into consideration. She felt that lovely voice of his rumble through his chest, which only somehow made her even more wet.

“Hell, hell, hell has it’s laws / Hell, hell, effect and the cause / Curtain falls, but hold your applause / Squirm, squirm, for now down here come the claws…”

She was unable to keep her moans quiet as he was driving her towards orgasm. It took all of her brainpower to keep focusing on playing.

“Fools, fools, how hard you have fought / Brave, brave but its all been for naught / True souls, that couldn’t be bought / Doomed, detected and caught…”

The way his voice growled in her ear on the last word, made her shiver and moan louder. She was so close. Close to both her orgasm and the end of the song. She could not fuck it up now.

“No more deals, it’s over / The final act, your doom / No more grace, it’s over…”

Her orgasm started washing over her, making her squirm in his lap. Her moans got louder and Raphael rubbed her clit faster.

“This House of Hope,” He growled into her ear. “Your tomb…”

The loud sounds she made of her finally reaching her orgasm matched almost perfectly with his prolonged note of the last line. It seemed a bit too intentional and made her think: he has done stuff like this before.  

She slumped back against his chest, her legs shaking and her chest heaving from the intensity of it. He removed his fingers and lifted them to her lips to make her clean them off. He pressed them between her lips. She sucked on them, earning her a groan from him. She had been too busy multi-tasking to notice just how hard his cock was under her.

“Beautiful, dear,” he purred and kissed her cheek. “Perhaps, we should perform it just like this when your friends drop by. Give them a show before they meet their end…”

How did he manage to say that in a way that made her aroused rather than angry? Something was deeply, deeply, fucking wrong with her.

Gale, Shadowheart, and Astarion had met in a secluded corner of the Elfsong.

Gale had been lecturing them on devils, cambions, and the Hells for about an hour now. Shadowheart and Astarion exchanged tired glances.

“Gale—”

“I’m just telling you that we can beat him,” Gale said. “It will not be easy, but we can.”

“She asked us not to go,” Shadowheart said. “Tav believes it’s a trap, so let’s not do anything stupid.”

“Also,” Astarion piped in. “It really is a novel concept for me to be the voice of reason here, but your little plan doesn’t seem to make sense. Lae’zel, Karlach, and Wyll are off doing whatever it is they do. Our little band consists of a wizard, two wizards if Tav is able to join the battle, a cleric, and little old me. Three spellcasters and a vampire who, by the way, can’t even be in Avernus since there is no night…”

“He’s right,” Shadowheart said as she looked at Gale.

“So, we will bring someone else as well…Halsin, Jaheira, or Minsc,” Gale said. “We can’t just leave her there!”

“Gale…” Shadowheart sighed.

“There were also that woman, Hope,” Gale continued. “If we could manage to sneak into her prison, we could free her as well. I’m sure she would be eager to help us fight Raphael.”

“Gale,” Shadowheart said again. “Let it go. Let’s wait until we hear more from her. We have no idea what we could possibly be walking into here.”

“She could be rotting in a dungeon, getting tortured right now. Who knows if she’s even still alive? I won’t leave her there! She—” Gale voice cracked, and he cleared his throat in an attempt to hide the emotions that were welling up inside him. “…Excuse me…She forfeited her soul so that we could give the Crown to Mystra. I have a difficult time not feeling responsible for this.”

Shadowheart’s, and even Astarion’s, expression softened slightly as they saw the toll it was taking on Gale.

“That woman has done so much for us,” Gale said. “We have to get her back somehow.”

“Alright,” Shadowheart said with a sigh. “Let’s not do anything hasty before we’ve learned more about what we are dealing with. She told us ‘not to listen to him’ in her message, but we haven’t heard from Raphael at all…He might try to offer us some sort of deal.”

“It really is unlike him,” Astarion said. “That bastard usually isn’t shy when it comes to popping up at the most inconvenient times.”

“He might want us to be desperate,” Gale said and rubbed his face as he tried to think. “Raphael doesn’t know that we know where Tav is…so he might be waiting for us to panic before he strikes.”

“My point is,” Shadowheart said. “If we knew a bit more about whatever it is he wants to offer us or what he wants from us, it might be easier to figure out what we can do. So…should we try to contact her again?”

“A wise suggestion,” Gale said. “If nothing else, it could grant us peace of mind that she is still alive.”

“Good,” Astarion said and clapped his hands together. “I will leave you two to do your spell stuff then. You know where to find me. Can I go now?”

Gale nodded and conjured a piece of parchment and a quill.

Shadowheart watched as Astarion left and then turned her attention to Gale.

“You are aware that this isn’t your fault, right?” she asked him, but she got no response from him as he was writing. “Right, Gale?”

Gale sighed and stopped writing for a moment.

“That does not make me feel less responsible,” he said. “She is very dear to me, and I don’t think I could forgive myself if I let something happened to her.”

“We will get her back somehow,” Shadowheart said. “I’m sure she’s fine. This is Tav we’re talking about. She is great at adapting to weird situations, and she would tell you not to worry so much if she was here, I’m sure of it.”

Gale smiled slightly and nodded. He returned his focus to writing the message for her.

Raphael was being odd. They had sex that evening while he was still in his human form. Again, a weird feeling for her because it felt so normal. It did not help that he was being a lot gentler with her than he had last time. He still teased her and kept her on edge, but there was no pain involved this time.

The kisses were something completely new as well. It was never on the mouth, though he planted kisses everywhere else. It felt so much more intimate than what she would ever have considered him to be capable of and it drove her insane.

He’s a devil, he’s a devil, he’s a devil. Those words became Tav’s mantra inside her head each time those little kisses and his weird gentleness made her heart flutter ever so slightly.

She slept till late noon. When she opened her eyes, Raphael was off to work as usual and she was met with Cassius’s intense gaze. She groaned and rolled over to her other side. She felt that something had been stuck under her pillow. She rubbed her eyes and sat up on the edge of the bed. She lifted the pillow and saw a book.

She read the cover: ’A Star in the Darkness’ by Bibella Aldath. Her all-time favorite book about the tragic and forbidden love between a drow and a moon elf. From the looks of it, it was an early edition too which was exceedingly hard to find considering how old the story was.

She could not help the faint smile that washed over her face and the way her heart fluttered again. She quickly tried to push that feeling away and returned to her mantra: he’s a devil, he’s a devil, he’s a devil…

That is when she heard Gale’s voice transmitted to her mind through a sending spell:

“Hope you are still alive and well. What is it that Raphael wants from us and what should we expect if he contacts us?”

Tav’s brow furrowed at the message, and she was glad that her back was turned to Cassius so he could not see the expression on her face at the message. Raphael hadn’t even talked to them yet?

She needed to get a message back to them somehow. What they were asking were fair questions, but it also sounded an awful lot like her companions might be planning to do something stupid and she needed to stop them.

[settle-down-frohike]

fic trope mashup: 38, 56

Spoilers: Redux II

Rating: R for language

38. Grief Fic 56. Awful first meeting, fill in the blanks fic

Part 2 of this (sort of a fleshing out of this) Sorry this one took me so long!! Tagging @today-in-fic and @edierone

Two nurses and a very insistent Maggie help him from the floor, huddling and fussing over him appropriately, his ears vaguely registering Scully’s voice in the background insisting that he go down to the ER to get checked out. Christ, but it was good to hear her scolding. He wished he could faint every day of his life from now on if only to hear her bark, “Mulder!!” over and over again. Voice meant breath and breath meant she yet lived. She lived. She was going to live.  Isn’t that what she had meant?

They finally all agreed on allowing him a cup of juice and a cookie to bring his blood sugar to an acceptable level, provided he stay put in a chair keeping his head between his legs, which suited him just fine being that he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. He had no intention of making a sobbing spectacle of himself with Bill glowering in the corner like a petulant teenager.

What passed for a cookie was bland and dry but downed easily enough with the “juice” that tasted more like a melted popsicle than an actual orange. Slowly his racing heart began to recede to an acceptable rate and the sweat coating his body began to dry, leaving him sticky and chilled. Daring a glance up, he found Maggie at Scully’s bedside, kissing her daughter’s knuckles and thanking God, oblivious to Scully’s sobering definitions of what remission really meant, that the cancer was not gone in fact but dormant. The Devil would not be defeated, only smothered for the time being. According to their faith, Satan could only truly lose his hold on this world when a Savior had been born and sacrificed to one day resurrect from the dead, eventually claiming the victory in the Last and Holy war on evil. He knew of no such savior. Not yet, not in this story.

Time had been bought nonetheless, and as for Mulder, he could only thank whomever had been listening to his offer of sacrifice in the chapel. He would meet his end in exchange for this charity, of that he was sure. If it be tomorrow, he was ready. Samantha was alive, albeit a stranger to him, and Scully’s beautiful heart was still beating. He could be done with this life in a moment knowing those two things. Til death do we part…his left ring finger faintly tingled, sympathetic nervous system recalling Maggie’s thinly veiled hint at her understanding of the order of things.

He shook his head against maudlin thoughts, reaching desperately within himself to try and find a smile or at least a joke that Bill might find inappropriate given the circumstances. Finding none and feeling suddenly claustrophobic, he mumbled an excuse to use the men’s room, feeling rather than seeing Scully’s attempts to make eye contact. He felt her reaching for him, and he wasn’t yet strong enough to be any sort of tether, so he ran. Ever selfish, and wasn’t that just like him. Maggie was joyously sobbing on her phone to their priest it seemed, blubbering something about miracles and answered prayers. Bill continued to play the part of sullen watchdog, and though he would never admit it to the towering Irishman, Mulder was grateful. However misguided his actions, he loved his sister.  And maybe he was right to protect her from this ominous, looming form dressed in a suit. This fallen angel who seemed to have ushered in a good portion of their family’s sufferings. 

His legs still felt limp and toneless as he searched the hallway for any sign of a restroom, which mercifully ended up being just past the nurse’s station. Before he could truly embarrass himself once again he made it to the sink and began to splash generous amounts of icy tap over his cheeks and around his neck. His heart had begun to thud again suspiciously and he had hoped he could ward off another attack of the vapors. A look into the mirror revealed glassy eyes and ashen skin, and he chastised himself inwardly for his inability to pull it the fuck together. His heart continued to pick up its pace, and yet he could not physically draw in enough oxygen to pacify its need. A sudden painful, unrelenting tension in his chest began to build until he could only collapse back against the outside of a stall, desperately tearing at his collar and tie in search of freedom from a sense of helplessness and terror that had rapidly begun to consume him, making his vision swim and the floor seem to tilt on its axis.

A hand on his shoulder made him flail out reflexively, “DON’T TOUCH ME!!” he yelled at the beige blur hovering over him.

“Dude are you ok?” he could hear it say, barely able to make out shaggy brown hair and a stout form in what looked like a uniform.

“I’m fine…” he gasped, “I just can’t breathe. My chest—“

“I’m gonna get a nurse man hold on—“ 

“NO! No nurse…” Oh God he was dizzy. He was going to be sick. This oaf was probably going to have the calvary with a crash cart in here at any second and Scully had seen enough of his antics for one day. God please, just give her 24 hours of respite. He could die tomorrow he promised but give her today.  

“My chest…I just need to breathe. I can’t….my chest hurts…I just need to breathe…” he pulled futilely on the reigns of his galloping, runaway pulse, unable to command the beast that continued to carry him to a sure and humiliating death. 

“I can’t do this..I can’t do this…I can’t…’ the words tumbled from his mouth, unbidden.  The grip on his shoulder tightened, and he swatted weakly at the offending gesture.  

“Hey man I think it’s a panic attack. I get’m all the time. Listen to me you gotta breathe in your nose, dude. Breathe big. Big breaths. Focus on the floor, man. Look at the tiles. Focus on the still stuff.” 

Infinitesimally, the grout, then the grid like pattern of the floor came into focus, as did the owner of the west coast valley-guy accent. A janitor. Name tag: Todd…Young. No… Not young… Thirties…Flunky..Another wave of nausea washed over him as he watched the other man rise and swing the door open, then closed. 

“I put my sign on the door. Just take a minute man. It’s cool.” 

As the room around him expanded and stilled, the hysteria began to abate. His throat began to close around a heavy lump and stung behind his jaw, his mouth watering. He clenched his teeth and refused to cry on the grimy floor of a public restroom in front of an equally grimy guy who just so happened to have missed his calling as a therapist. With some effort, he swallowed the tears down along with his insulting first impressions. Todd sat cross-legged next to him, and remained otherwise silent for a time, allowing Mulder to finally reach some form of stasis. 

“You ok dude? Man I thought you were having a heart attack. Guess I made the right call, he chuckled soberly, “Shit. I’da lost my job. You aren’t gonna die on me anyway are you?”

Mulder chuffed, “Not today.” He’d managed finally not to gulp down air.  Todd nodded and added distantly, “Cancer ward, man. It happens a lot here.” 

Now Mulder was truly remorseful for his earlier aggression. This guy had probably seen a lot of grief in these halls. He wondered about this Good Samaritan. Probably tossed aside by most, and yet a blessing to the injured who happened along his path. Todd. He would not forget his name.

Feeling sufficiently contrite and knowing his extended absence from Scully’s room would not go unnoticed, he gathered himself from the floor and picked up his tie to tuck in his pocket. Whatever words of thanks he could have formed during another moment when his wits were about him, they weren’t forthcoming right now. Todd heaved himself up as well, and went to retrieve his cart. One job finished, another to start. Mulder understood the feeling. It never really does end. He strode slowly from the restroom, leaving Todd to his duties, and the festering source of his malaise bubbled up like a bratty child, refusing to be ignored. 

Samantha. The feel of her snatching her hand from his had been akin to a slice to his palm. Quickly over and done, leaving a gaping wound destined to scar. He had failed and yet he hadn’t. She was returned to him and yet rejected their reunion. He had her back and yet had lost her all over again. 

Scully. Alive and warm and…incomprehensibly lovely… and doctoring him from a hospital bed. He was so sure that call had meant the end. And yet they had been granted, by some deity or  malevolent force, another chance. A life to live or to barter for some future price, he had still to know. Why can’t he smile? Why can’t he be happy? He’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? The questions presented themselves in his mind in Scully’s voice, not tauntin exactly, but coaxing him into focus on the here and now, on the what is, and not what might be. And wouldn’t that be just like her…Is just like her…because… she’s okay. Today, right now. She’s okay and in the next room to his left. The idea seemed so ridiculously improbable at that moment that he began to giggle, manically at first, then fitfully, finally collapsing into full blown sobs on the bench just outside her door. Hands hiding his face, head between his knees, just as he’d been instructed. For a moment, he had release. 

[thenextgeneration3]

The Next Generation (Part 4)

Sorry this is a longer one that I normally do. Warning: mild swearing I think Sorry about the spelling and grammar. Time skip 3rd year:

Y/n POV

When I got to Hogwarts express I took up my normal seat waiting for the rest of them to join me. There is a lot of rumours going around that Sirius Black has escaped and is on the hunt for Harry. I’ve spent the summer sending letters to Orion who doesn’t believe it’s true. Deep down I don’t either why would a guy my mum speaks so highly off when she’s not calling him a player. Betray his friends that he held so dearly. No not his friends his family. It doesn’t make any sense. With these thoughts I was in my own little world when the boys and Hermione joined me. “Y/n/n are you alright, love” Orion said as he startled me “Oh yeah sorry was just thinking. How was your summer guys” I said smiling. “Alight the cousin was a prat as always but I got to spend a few weeks with Ron’s family which was good.” Harry said while sitting across from me with Hermione beside him and then Ron me and Orion on the other side next to me a man that seems to be sleeping. The next few hours was every talking about there summer. Me and Orion stayed silent as they discussed the subject of Sirius Black until. “He’s bloody metal why would he want escape out of Askaban to kill you.” Ron said while his rat was eating the left overs of his sandwich. This is when I noticed how uncomfortable Orion was. I moved closer and grabbed his hand trying to show some comfort. It continued for what seems like hours until… “Well I think everyone’s got it wrong it doesn’t make sense. Non of it does. Why would Sirius Black the man my mum hold so dear to her heart betray his brother that way. I think there is more to it then that. If my mum believes it’s not true and Orion here believes it’s not true then I do to. Only a few people really know what happened on that night and instead of throwing him back into that hole maybe people should ask him what happened. I don’t think he’s after you Harry. Why would he be. He’s your…” At this point I couldn’t hold back after everything I’ve heard it’s hurting Orion and my mum. To hear those things about Sirius. Orion doesn’t need it from his friends. But I had stepped to far. “He’s my what… Y/n. Tell me” At that moment the sleeping man next to me seemed to move. Was he asleep or was he listening to the conversation. “All I’m trying to say is everyone has secrets Harry. Sometimes people aren’t what they made out to seem. People can be monsters on the inside but innocent on the outside. We just need to hear people out is all.” I said pain hidden in my eyes “I’m sorry Y/n and Orion. I didn’t mean to upset any of you.” With that we all gave a hug and went on with our journey. But something about the sleeping man in our compartment didn’t feel right he never mover opened his eyes till the train finally stopped. The only thing that gave a glimpse at who he was. Was the battered brief case that held the initials R.J.L.

Defence against the dark arts:

The man on the train was actually our new DADA teacher. He had a few scars littered upon his face. The same as mine tho mine are covered by make up since they aren’t that deep. He looked tired but put on a smile to show everyone he was okay. “Right class welcome to Defence again the dark art. I’m your new teacher Professor Lupin. Today to start of the term I’m going to teach you how to defend yourself against a boggart . Now there is one simple spell that can do this and it’s RIDDIKULUS. Now everyone try without wands” “RIDDIKULUS” everyone shouted. “Very good. Now can you all get in line please. Inside this cupboard is a boggart when I open this door It will transform into your worst nightmare. So you need to speak clearly and use the incantation. Now who’s first. Ah Neville. Ready 1..2.. now” he opened the door and professor Snape walked out. “RIDDIKULUS” Neville shouted and now Snape was dressed in a handbag and grandmother clothing. Everyone was laughing so loudly at the sight in front. As I looked at Lupin he to was smirking at the sight of Snape. The lesson was nearly over but now it was My turn to face a my fear I took a bite of my chocolate and walked toward the boggart at first it wouldn’t transform but then a small circle appeared. “Riddikulus” I said while taking a step back. “R r r RIDDIKULUS” the circle changed into a cake and fell before anyone realised what the boggart turned into. I walked to the back of the class where Orion was hiding. Harry’s turn. The boggart seemed to change into a dementor which Lupin stud in front of Harry and it changed into what looked like the same as mine a circle but this time his had black cloud with a blink of an eye it was a balloon and he sent it back into the cupboard. I ran over to Harry and grabbed him into a hug. “You okay Harry.” I said as he tightened his grip. “Here have some chocolate” me and the professor said at the same time. Harry only laughter as we both pulled the same type of chocolate out of our robes. “Right class dismissed. Miss …” “Y/L/n” “May I have a word please” “Sure” Everyone left Orion gave a worried look as he headed on out with the rest of the class. “Is it okay if I call you Y/n.” “Yeah sure professor” “I was just wondering your boggart took a different shape than I would have thought it would. I was just wondering if you would like to talk about it.” “It’s okay professor. It was just a circle I bet others have a worse type of fear no need to be worried.” With that he gave me the look I dreaded. Pity. As he looked at his hands and looked back at me. “Well just so you know I’m here for you and that you know that you have some pretty good friends. May I ask about you and Harry.” He said and what seems to be a small smile on the corner of his lips. “Erm.. Harry and I. Well we’re just friends he’s more like my brother actually we’re always there for each other. Why you ask?” “No reason. Right I’ve kept you long enough and I’m sure for dinner they are serving some devils chocolate cake.” With that we both headed to dinner. I smiled as I actually like this professor he’s different. Common room:

In the common room everyone was gathered around the fire Hermione with her nose in a book, Ron and Harry laughing about something on the floor by her legs. However there was no sign of Orion anywhere. “Hey guys any of you seen Orion” I said concerned as I walked toward my group of friends. “Yeah. He’s upstairs said he was tired I think” Ron said while finishing his chat with Harry. I walked towards the boys dorms. I knocked on the door and there was no answer. I knocked again. “Orion I’m coming in please say you have pants on” I walked into the room while placing a hand over my face but peaked out slightly. “It’s okay love I’m dressed.” He chuckled as I walked towards his bed. I lay down next to him looking up at the canopy. “Y/n you do believe me don’t you about my dad. He’s a good man I know it” he seemed Desperate like it was his last hope. I turned to face him. “Of course I do why wouldn’t I. Orion I trust you if you say it’s not true it’s not true.” He smiles are put brought me into a cuddle. “Thanks love.” I smiled as he continued to stare into the canopy. He has a defined jaw that was beautifully sculpted. His eyes were a warm grey just before a storm. His hair was long but not to long (just before man bun stage) he was beautiful. He had the edgy I’m going o steal your girl don’t mess with me. However, in these moments he was the complete opposite he was the kind caring person you would ever meet and this was the boy I began to fall in love with.

Defence against the dark arts lesson:

Professor Lupin did seem very good the past two days he’s been whiter than normal. He’s made us all read about the potronus charm. For when we start to learn it in a few weeks. The bell signalled the end off class. “You’ve all been good today. I’m not setting any work as you’ve all should have read them two chapters. I’ll see you at the next class.” He said while slumping in his chair. “Professor?” I asked walking closer to his desk. “Ah yes miss Y/L/n how can I help?” He asked while having his eyes closed. “I was just wondering if you were alright sir you don’t seem well or you just out of chocolate.” We both chuckled at my last statement as I try to lighten his spirits “Yeah just the flu I think I’ll be fine in a few day. Now I wanted to ask you something.” He looked at me with concerned eyes. “Orion and Harry they seem very distant lately is everything okay between them?” Well that’s no lie there is a drift between the boys as Harry is believing more and more that Sirius is out to kill him. Whereas, Orion and my mum still don’t believe it. They have started to divide. I spend most of my time trying to care for both boys but they make it very difficult. Ron and Hermione agree with Harry from everything that’s been said and I believe in my mum and Orion to find out the truth but it’s becoming harder and harder. “They’ll sort it out I hope sir. They were like brothers at the start of school. I’m just hoping that non of this Sirius Black stuff get in the way of that.” I said as I hold back the tears in my eyes. “May I ask. What do you think about all of this.” “Well sir you were on the train when I had my little dig at Harry when they talked about Sirius. But you might have really been a deep sleeper.” I sat down on a chair beside the desk and fiddled with my fingers “Yeah. I heard. I just want to know what you think about it now if you don’t mind.” He says pleadingly. “Well I still don’t think he did it Sir. Why would a man like Sirius that my mum told me loved his friends like family betray them like that. After everything he went through breaking out of the black tradition. Running away from home everything. My mum told me everything about him while I was growing up and his friends and how if you were ever to see one of the marauders you were always going to see the other somewhere close. It just doesn’t make sense. I know they were dark times but why would he betray the man he classed as his brother and family since he ran away. I just … I don’t understand sir and I just want to make Orion feel better but the only way of doing that is finding the truth.” I sighed as I wiped away the tears that fell. “I understand. Thank you for talking to me about this. I don’t want to press you any further how about we go to dinner and have some hot chocolate that will make you feel better. Oh and Y/n the boys will be fine I’m sure of it.” With that we both left for dinner. Both thinking deeply about Sirius and everything that happening.

The marauders map:

“Harry” I whispered as I tried not to wake the other boys up “HARRY” I whisper shouted and startled him. “Y/n what are you doing in here and why you waking me up if the weekend. Please go back to sleep.” He went to role over as I grabbed his arm. “Where’s the map. I want to go somewhere but I can’t find it.” I began to become impatient “It’s at the my DADA book or Orion’s got it.” The turned his face into the pillow and began to snore. “Thanks” it was in his book. I picked it up and started to walk to the common room. “I solemnly swear I’m up to no good” I whisper revealing the map. I looked at the path to the kitchen and where everyone was. Until I see a name that was on the map. Peter Pettigrew. I was confused the map was meant to show people that were alive not dead. I quickly put my shoes back on and left the common room. I followed as the name began to use the tunnels around Hogwarts the passageways not a lot of people know. It was strange. I was to focused on the map that I didn’t realise a name was heading straight for me professor Snape. “Oh crap. Mischief manage, Nox” turning my light of and hiding the parchment in my jumper. Hoping that Snape wouldn’t catch me. “And where do you think your going at this hour in the morning Y/L/n.” He looked at me pointing his wand in my face. “Well professor I prefer it if you lower your wand and as for what I’m doing is …erm sleep walking yep sleepwalking. Lest go with that.” I say as I hear a chuckle behind me. “You seem to be spending to much time with Mr Potter and Mr Black I see. Oh and what do we have hear” he takes the parchment out my jumper. “Erm.. that oh that’s just some old parchment must have forgotten about that I’ll just take that.” “No” he tried to use a reveal spell and I was still wondering who chuckled behind us. “Well read it out will you Y/L/n I haven’t got all night.” “Are you sure professor” I look down at the parchment as words no insults start to appear on the parchment. “Yes get on with it” he says in his monotone voice. “Okay then as you wish… Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business. Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git. Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a Professor. Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slime-ball.” I hold back my chuckle as professor Snape isn’t giving me and evil glare. “How dare you talk to a teacher like that you insolent little…” he was cut off by someone clearing their throats behind us. “Good morning Snape and Y/n what is going on ?” Professor Lupin was standing just behind Snape. Snape didn’t look to pleased at the outcome of the situation. “Oh what are you doing out at the our Lupin. Basking in the moon light are we.” I could see that Lupin flinched at Snape’s words. “Well.. I seem to have found Miss Y/L/n here out of bed way after hours claiming to be sleepwalking. I’ve also found this old piece of parchment” “ah yes it seems to be charmed to insult who ever may use it with saying the proper words.” Lupin butted in. He smiled as he took the map from Snape. “Why don’t you leave this to me I’ll deal with Miss Y/L/n. ” At this Snape turned on his heels and walked away there was a few moment of silence past as Lupin stared at the parchment. “Where did you find this?” I was taken back. I though he would shout and give me a detention but now he was kind and never raised his voice. “Oh erm… fitch had it in his office then it made its way to me. I guess.” I began to get nervous. “This is a dangerous thing to have if you were to loose it in the wrong hands.” He stopped. “Professor you’re talking like you know what the parchment is. But I haven’t told you.” It confused me until I placed the piece together in my brain. “OMG… Seriously how was I so stupid. What was I think. It makes sense now total. Wait but that means. No omg yes. This is great.” I rambled on as he just looked at me confused, started and panic shot through his eyes. “Y/n would you like to finish this conversation in my office sine it’s sunrise in 20 minutes and student will be getting up for the trip to Hogsmeade.” “Yeah sure sorry sir” I said happy and excited. Lupin’s office:

It wasn’t what I expected there weren’t photos of family or anything just normal boring ones. I took a seat in front of the desk while he took a seat behind. Placing the map on the table. “Can I ask you something sir” he looked a bit panicked by my sudden request as the moments of silence before hand. “Sure yeah” “Clearly your are one of the marauders and I’m pretty sure I’ve worked which one and as you. I just want to know how is it you lost the map? Or did you leave it here” at this his eyes looked less panicky and he eased “I’ll answer your questions once I understand a few things it that’s okay” he looked at me then smiled as I nodded my head. “How do you know so much about the marauders map and my friends.” I knew this would come up. “Well sir, you see I’ve been having bed time stories about the adventures of the marauders. I’ve known about you all since as long as I can remember I have this photo.” I rummage through my pocket to find the photo of the boys Marlene, lily and my mum in the common room smiling. I gave it to him to look at. He smiled as he remember the day well. “ my mum loved you all and she said it was some of the greatest memories she had. She met my dad her. Though she won’t say who he is just that I’m like him a lot and that he’s connected to the marauders some how. I was born just after Harry. She said she never realised she was pregnant till at least a week before because she never had any symptoms or the big belly. She always would tell me when I got in trouble at school that I was so much like my uncles and they would be proud but that doesn’t mean I get off easy. ” I laughed at that so did he “ It was hard for her guess and me being well me wasn’t easy sometimes she had to take days of work each month and keep switching work then she got a muggle job so they didn’t put it together. But every night she told me that one day I’ll meet the marauders and that I’ll understand what she means and what they were like. She would cry and tell me that it would be a while a long while to meet my godmother Lily and Godfather James but she said I will when I’m old. She always said I hope you meet Padfoot he was good looking but he could make you laugh till you peed or cried. Then she said Mooney was always her favourite he would help get out all the time. Be there for her. Above all else he was the kindest boy you’ll ever meet. She never talked about Wormtail just said he was just quite.” After talking which seemed like forever I looked back at him he had tears in his eyes as he looked at the photo. “Sorry did I say something wrong I didn’t mean to” “oh no no no. It’s okay. I just miss them all is all been so long since someone had talked about them all like that. You mum really did know us all well didn’t she. What is her name.” “Oh she’s right there in the photo sir. Joanna” I pointed at my mum how was sitting on the arm chair he was resting on. His eyes widened. We sat there is silence. He went pale and just sat and stared. What did he know that I did.

Part 5 coming soon.

[pvcked]

“ oh, darlin’. ” darby shakes her head and clucks her tongue. “ don’t make me use this stick on something other than the puck. ”  

or, alternatively :  ‘tis i, linc, back at it with my second !!  say hello to darby belle montpellier,  varsity womens’ hockey team captain & songwriter/frontwoman of west ham’s own folk-soul band,  pelagia. !!   hit that read more to learn more about this southern belle .

[   d    a    r    b    y        b    e    l     l     e      ––    M A N I C    P I X I E    D R E A M    G I R L .

✔ ┊❝ ( natalia dyer. 18. she/her &. cisfemale ) rumor around town is that darby belle montpellier was on one of the buses that left for the field trip. they’re the eighteen year old that resides in new ham. over the summer news spread that she prayed to make a deal with the devil to bring her mother and father back to life, but suspects something may have gone amiss when laying out the terms, but who knows if that’s true or not? what we do know is that their friends describe them as saccharine & virtuosic, but who knows when they’re known to be diaphanous & dewy-eyed from time to time.

( &&. general information )

full name: darby belle rose montpellier

nickname(s) or alias: darby belle, darby, dee, belle, db ( by her teammates ), puck ( by her late father only )

preferred name: darby belle. belle’s not a middle name; it’s part of her first! but she won’t correct you! darby’ll do just fine.

current age: eighteen

astrological sign: pisces

gender: cisfemale

preferred pronouns: she/her

sexual preference: bisexual

romantic preference: biromantic

home environment: a modest two-story condominium, owned by her older sister, elody mae. they’ve lived in the same condo since moving to west ham in the summer of 2014, following their father’s untimely passing. they originally hail from small-town tennessee, so their condo took a while to acquire the typical connecticut aesthetic. darby belle’s hockey and speed skating trophies are displayed proudly in the front foyer. their kitchen displays elody mae’s art, and features lots of succulents and small-scale flowers. darby’s room doubles as a music space, so her guitar, banjo, and piano line the far wall. a secondhand drumset sits in the corner for when her band convenes there, or when she goes ahead to demo entire songs herself.

current occupation: student, student athlete, musician.

language(s) spoken: english, enough spanish to get by ( acquired from high school classes, but her southern accent kinda bleeds through? so kids in class always kinda smirk when she tries out the speaking exercises  ).

native language: english.

current relationship status: happily in a long term relationship with clark, @wildguard .

( &&. background )

reason behind name: darby belle was named after a beloved family dog who was tragically killed by an automobile the night before she was born. how... quaint. her mother insisted on adding “belle” to match her older sister, elody mae’s, “name flow”. her father never really approved, but he his second army deployment began just before her birth, so her mother went ahead and did it anyway.

birth order: second ( and youngest ). her older sister and current guardian, elody mae, was born 7 years prior.

ethnicity: american. the montpellier family had strong roots in small-town jonesborough, tennessee. people always speculate there’s some french in their bloodline, way back, but they don’t speak it now.

nationality: american.

religion ( tw: death, suicide ): it’s complicated. she was raised christian. went to weekly sermons. sang in the church choir. but after her mother died in the housefire that nearly wiped out the entire family when darby was 6, she began to... question. if god were real, why would he let bad things happen to good people? her father returned from afghanistan in 2007 and seeing him struggle with ptsd despite her persistent prayer contributed to her doubt. he took his own life in march 2014, the day before darby’s 13th birthday. from that point on, her view on religion became pretty tumultuous. believing there’s nothing out there makes her anxious. but believing in a higher power makes her angry. she still struggles to reconcile her relationship with god, and wonders if she’ll ever be able to. moving to west ham offered a new start, and she’d always yearned to get out of jonesborough –– she just never thought losing her father would wind up being the way so-called-god would choose to make it happen.

political views: fairly moderate. can agree with liberals and conservatives on different issues, but mainly toes the midline. maybe a bit more left than right. she’s... not that keen on discussing all of that stuff. she never got to come out to her mother or her father, so it’s all very... touchy.

financial status: comfortable, but by no means as affluent as the rest of west ham. she and her sister live off of their inheritance and their father’s life insurance policy. but elody mae is intent on using it as minimally as possible, so they live modestly. their condo is adorable, and offers just enough space for the two of them, plus occasional guests. they eat well, but smart. elody mae’s income as a local commissioned artist and interior decorator isn’t colossal, but it’s enough to avoid skimming much from the inheritance. that’s the only money they’ve got for darby’s college. but she’s fielding several hockey scholarship offers, so hopefully tuition won’t even be an issue.

hometown: jonesborough, tennessee. yes, she has the accent. you don’t have to tell her it’s adorable –– she already knows.

level of education: high school senior. darby does well in school. she’s no ap student, but she’s got brain cells and knows how to use ‘em. she often chooses to forego studying to create new music, and between pelagia. & the varsity girls hockey team, she doesn’t have much spare time for homework. she’s in a lot of teachers’ good graces, so they let it slide, for the most part. this past year, her grades have slipped a bit –– she’s just got other priorities. catch her drawing music staffs and notes in her biology notes instead of copying down cell structures. scribbling lyrics in the margins of her in-class essays. she’s a dreamer. 

( &&. physical appearance )

looks like (or face claim, if applicable): natalia dyer. for now, with mid-length brown, curly hair. i’d like there to be a point where she impulse decides to cut and dye it platinum blonde... so maybe we could plot that out, somehow. like a brittany 2007 moment. a nervous break.

height: 5′0. she’s tiny. nobody expected her to be the rumored hockey legend transferring to west ham high her freshman year. but there she was, a zippy right wing on the ice. her speed’s uncanny. her agility’s surreal.

weight: 108 lbs. fuckin’ protect her.

shoe size: 6

figure/build: very, very thin. surprisingly muscular, though. not built like a typical hockey player but boy, does she command the ice. her strength, like... bewilders everyone. recruiters came to see her play this spring and fuckin’ lost their shit. this girl ?!  captain ?!  right wing ?!  does she disintegrate when she’s checked ?!?!

hair colour: light brown.

hair length: down to her shoulders. curly.

eye colour:  aqua blue. 

glasses?: no, but she does own zenni optical glasses for the computer.

skin tone: light, some faint freckles that intensify with sun exposure.

tattoos: none. she’s gotten into actual fist fights on the ice before. but needles? scary stuff. she’ll pass.

piercings: she has her ears pierced, but rarely wears earrings, since they’re prohibited on the ice.

birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: some burn scars from the housefire that killed her mom in 2007, on the back of her left forearm/wrist and across her stomach. she’s really insecure about them and almost always wears long sleeves because of it. she also has a birthmark shaped like canada on the arch of her left foot. when they were alive and darby was very young, her parents used to joke that god put that mark there because he knew their daughter was going to be a hockey star.

dominant hand: right-handed, hence she plays right wing. but she prefers to cut food with her left.

if painted, what color are their nails?: she keeps her nails very short, and they’re usually painted neutral shades: gray, pink, nude. she’s recently gotten into a forest green phase.

usual style of clothing: long sleeve sweaters, jeans, vans. graphic long-sleeve tees –– she really likes the nature designs on patagonia ones, or cool/eclectic designs. converse. timberlands, leggings, and oversized sweatshirts. denim jackets. in the winter, she’s always bundled up because she runs cold. honestly? she’d sooner wear a hoodie and shorts in the summer than throw on a t-shirt. she does wear short sleeves, but mainly for team workouts and runs.

frequently worn jewelry:  she wears her father’s wedding band around her neck on a thin gold chain, always tucked under whatever top she’s wearing. her sister does the same with her mother’s.

describe their voice, what accent?:  she’s got a very soft voice. light tennessee accent. when she sings, it’s got this delicious rasp and rawness to it. i’ll post a spotify playlist soon with the vibe –– but think molly burch, tomtsu, julien baker, mothers, angel olsen, and you’re on the right track.

what is their speaking style (fast, monotone, loquacious)?: darby’s laugh sounds kind of like breeze-rustled leaves and cotton-candied skies: light, melodic, buoyant. she speaks quietly, for the most part, but that shouldn’t be mistaken for complacency. she speaks slow, deliberate. her words matter. she’ll speak quicker when she’s mid-laugh, or when she’s intoxicated. when she’s angry, she’s more likely to bite her tongue and stare. her doe-eyes speak leagues. on the ice, her dialogue’s punchy, gutteral. she calls out plays and opposing teams are flabbergasted that such a strong sound can come out of such a small frame. 

describe their scent: vanilla, lavender, eucalyptus. she dabs a few drops of essential oils on instead of perfume. she’ll really only wear a marketed fragrance after practice or games –– and then it’s dolce & gabbana, light blue.

describe their posture: darby holds herself with a silencing kind of grace –– she glides through rooms. her chest is always open, collarbones broad. she has a great deal of strength in her legs and in her stride, but the way she carries herself resonates more like a dancer or figure skater than a hockey player. on the ice, she’s all forward momentum and down-striked strides, whipping around and coming at opponents with a vengeance.

( &&. legal information )

any speeding tickets?: no, she never got her license! her sister will typically drop and pick her up from events, or she’ll carpool. in terms of arriving for the trip, she walked across town, since they got into an argument about the letters her father left –– elody mae had them locked away in a bank safebox, and hasn’t let her younger sister read them.

have they ever been arrested?: no. honestly, could anyone arrest this sweet cupcake? her bandmates have gotten busted for shoplifting snacks high before, but darby’s always been able to sweet-talk them out of punishment. too bad they’re not around to steal her pretzel sticks now. not that stealing is necessarily still a crime...

do they have a criminal record?: no. squeaky clean. she respects authority, almost too much. so this new ham situation... it’s going to throw her for a loop.

have they committed any violent crimes?:  not if you don’t count breaking an amherst high girl’s nose during a fist fight on the ice. she called one of her teammates something terrible, so... the bitch had it comin’.

property crimes?: no.

traffic crimes?: no opportunity to! unless west ham suddenly persecutes for jaywalking down empty roads in the wee horus of the morning.

other crimes?: not yet.

( &&. medical information )

blood type: b positive.

date/time of birth: march 18. 1:42pm. the only labor nurse on duty had to put down her bologna sandwich to assist in the birth. on a potato roll!  she complimented darby’s mother at the end: “congrats on the bologna. i mean –– baby.”

place of birth: franklin woods community hospital, jonesborough, tennessee.

vaginal birth or cesauren section?: vaginal birth.

sex: female

smoker? / drinker? / drug user?: no / yes / pain pills. more than she should. shhhhh.

addictions: pretzel sticks. she’s gone days without real meals because she’s just been munchin’ on those things.

allergies: strawberries. peanuts. bees. good luck surviving in new ham, gurl. hope no one poisons ya!

ever broken a bone?: her left clavicle in pee wee hockey, 2005. fractured wrist from getting checked, 2009. right ankle, mid-game pileup, 2015 –– still scored, though! three broken ribs from a particularly gnarly check ( three girls v. one ), 2018.

any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: insomnia, since her mother’s death. worsened with her father’s passing. i imagine it’ll get worse with her sister disappearing, too. her mild dependency on painkillers.

any medication regularly taken: leftover meds from her injuries. it started with the pills she found in her dad’s medicine cabinet, after his passing. it’s not... bad. yet. it’s harmless.

( &&. personality )

direct quote from them:  UNO.  DOS ( her chillin’ with her athlete broskis. )  TRES ( her babysitting ) .  “ honey, you got a big storm comin’. ”

positive traits: tenderhearted, saccharine, strong-willed, musically inclined.

negative traits: diaphanous, dewy-eyed, easily manipulated ( somebody break her ).

likes: underdog succulents: the ugly ones people tend to walk past. late nights spent mixing new tunes. singing along to the radio, rewriting top 40 songs to sound more interesting. performing at small local gigs with pelagia. ; the cacophonous beauty of each soundcheck before doors open. the scrape of metal on freshly smoothed ice. the feel of her favorite hockey stick in her hands. taped fingers. narrowed eyes. confused gasps as she whizzes past bigger players, barely detected. pulling long sweater sleeves over her hands. finger-picking her acoustic guitar. clark beecher. singing stevie nix in the shower obnoxiously loud, just to aggravate her sister. coconut macarons, fresh from the oven. pretzel sticks. blue gatorade. toe-tapping in the locker room between periods, to her pumped up playlist. texting silly pickup lines to her friends. trading cute little jingles for rides around town. petrichor. sunflowers. bees ( from a distance ). worms, insects, dirt. she loves cupping her hands around beetles and showing them around the place like they might stay a while.

dislikes: being cold. birds. crows, specifically –– they ripped a bag of pretzels right out of her hands, once. unsweetened coffee. sore losers. waking up, and the momentary serenity before her life story locks back into place. the smell of smoke. fires. paying $20/month for her father’s inactive cell line –– they have yet to deactivate it. knowing that the last thing she ever said texted him was, “ can you bring a gatorade to the game tomorrow? yellow kind. thx. ” thx. text talk. :-) . smiley faces with noses: only her dad was allowed to use that kind. drew barrymore. short sleeves. high heels. remembering.

strengths: darby belle has the capacity to be compassionate toward anyone. almost to a fault; it’s been exploited before and i doubt those times’ll be the last. great texter. she can channel such wild doses of emotion into her music –– take away the lyrics and you’ve still got such magic. add the words back in, and it’ll do an even better job of wreckin’ ya. she manages to befriend a wide variety of people: because of her band, she’s mixed up with some eclectic folks. her role as varsity captain makes her accessible for most of the school’s athletes. i like to think she’s down with the bros? isn’t afraid to play-fight, mess about. despite all she’s been through, this girl’s got a real knack for life.

weaknesses: yearns for stability, but the world’s kind of delivered that a bit late. prone to rampant reminiscence. sells her soul to her passions, so other obligations fall to the wayside. still can’t figure out snapchat.  will defend her teammates ‘til the cows come home, and that’s gotten her injured on the ice before.  kind of cultivating a dependence on painkillers.  can’t hide when she’s teary-eyed.  can’t hide emotions at all.  when she falls in love, she falls  h a r d .  and when others feel something for her, she often lacks the ability to see it.  short-tempered with her sister.  lets anxieties fester and build up until she lashes out at someone ( usually her sister ) .  stutters when angry, sometimes, so will often avoid the issue or just stay silent about it.  prone to heartbreak.

insecurities:  what if she could have done something to save her mom? her dad? what if this is all some kind of punishment for her religious doubts? is god laughing down at her? does he even exist?  maybe we’re all just living on borrowed time.

fears/phobias:  snakes.  being stung by a bee.  never being loved  /  never having the wherewithal to find it.  not getting a hockey scholarship.  emptying the medicine cabinet.  not being able to call her dad’s cell to hear his voice.  losing elody mae.  losing everyone.

habits:  tapping her fingers on flat surfaces.  skipping meals when she’s stressed.  texting thumbs-up emojis to avoid having to give an actual answer to “ how are you? ” .  masking darker thoughts with game suggestions and silly jokes.  deflection.  wearing her father’s old army tees to bed, and sniffing them each time as if the laundered clothing might still hold onto even just a whiff of his cologne.  falling for the wrong people.  believing.  letting her nail polish chip and chip and chip until all that’s left is a silhouette of pigment.  biting her nails.  midnight runs.  pressing leaves into notebooks to capture moments for which she lacks the words.  over-gifting outside her means, arguing with her sister about it later.

quirks: bites her bottom lip and rolls it between her teeth when she’s thinking.  squints directly at the sun despite being scolded for it for years.  latches on to friends’ arms as if the universe might tug them apart at any moment, and navigating the school parking lot is exhaustively complex –– like she might get lost; like she might lose them.  calling instead of texting.  sniffing peanut butter: she can’t eat it, but she loves how it smells.  sleeping all curled up in a ball, on her left side, with the blankets tugged up tight against her chin.  wearing beanies and baseball caps indoors.  waking up early enough for church each sunday: getting dressed, beginning the walk across town, only to turn back halfway.  running drills at the rink instead of attending lunch hour.  jotting down lyrics on standardized tests.  humming in school stairwells, when she thinks she’s alone.  tapping her locker dial three times with her index finger before putting in her combo. wriggles her nose when she’s trying not to laugh. gaze always, always drifting to the nearest window.  funky patterned socks.  she has a pair with picasso.

hobbies: hockey. guitar, banjo, piano, drums. singing. songwriting. running, weightlifting. elody mae tried to get her into yoga, but her headspace is far too cluttered.  making late-night ice cream runs to the local parlor, because she knows the owner and he’s always ready to give her a free scoop.  

guilty pleasure:  the chainsmokers. they’re shit songwriters, but their songs are vibey –– if you tell anyone she told you this, she’ll hit you with her hockey stick.

desires: to get out of west ham in one piece.  to find some kind of meaning.  to feel something more, or less, or different than what she feels now.

wishes: she could have told her parents who she really is. her father could have seen her bring the west ham womens’ hockey team to the regional finals four years in a row. she wishes she could apologize to her father for not being enough to make him stay.

secrets: she stole her father’s dog tags and told her sister he must have pitched ‘em. she keeps them under her pillow. she’s never felt a love as strong as her songs might suggest. she’s popping pain pills to cope with things besides hockey injuries.

turn ons:  soft smiles. hand holding. shared gummy candies. someone who can watch hockey with her and not get bored. fake wrestling. dimples.  silly face tournaments.

turn offs:  prying.  counting on fingers.  preoccupations with time.  disliking vegetables.  top 40 pop.  people who won’t admit they’re afraid of the dark.

lucky number: 4. ( her jersey number, as per request. what her family used to be. )

pet peeves:  squeaky shoes.  mic feedback.  dull skates.  vanilla shakes that taste like nothing.  crunchy cookies.  stale pretzels.  people who make fun of her laugh ( sometimes she snorts ).

their motto:  “ hockey is figure skating in a war zone. ” –– her father.

( &&. favourites )

food: pretzel sticks. sometimes dipped in chocolate.

drink: water! or yellow gatorade.

fast food restaurant:  she misses bojangles.

flavour: vanilla.

word: perseverance.

colour:  army green.

clothing: though she doesn’t wear it a lot, she loves her hockey jacket. but it comes second to one of her dad’s deep blue sweaters –– it fits her almost comically oversized, and it almost, almost feels like his arms around her.

accessory: her father’s wedding band, secured around her kneck with a thin gold chain. or her hats: she loves beanies and baseball caps.

candle scent: she doesn’t fuck with candles. open flame. but eucalyptus, lavender, and peppermint make for a great diffuser blend.

game: hockey. ( jk, y’all already knew that! )  she gets a kick out of go fish. really!  and pick-up football.

animal:  any kind of insect, especially fireflies.

holiday: new year’s eve. she loves getting to blow party kazoos in everyone’s faces.

weather: breezy, sunny mornings, when the dew’s still clinging to glistening blades of grass.

season: mid-spring, after the rain, but before the blossoms finish opening. it’s beautiful. and she doesn’t have to worry about bees.

book: twenty-thousand leagues under the sea by jules verne. her father used to read it to her at night, chapter by chapter. it inspired her band name: pelagia .  it means the open sea.

artist: elody mae montpellier. she’s biased.

band/group: cigarettes after sex, stevie nix, amy winehouse, the band camino, car seat headrest, lany, daniel caesar, jeremy zucker. the beatles. the beach boys ( her dad loved them ).

song: don’t dream it’s over, crowded house.

movie/film:  the wedding date. she’s a sucker for those stupid rom-coms. the mighty ducks. slap shot.

tv show:  she grew up watching bob ross specials with her sister.

sport: hockey. speed-skating, for a brief time, when she was in elementary school.

possession: her father’s dog tags.  her lucky puck  ( he gave it to her after her first ever hockey game, complete with a heart and smiley face carved into the side ).

number: 4.

person: clark beecher. but she’ll tell you she doesn’t believe in favorites.

( &&. skills )

talents: musicianship. performing. songwriting. agile skating. playmaking. interpretive dancing. making her friends laugh. going cross-eyed for long periods of time. rolling her tongue.

ability to drive a car?: no. not legally. or well.

can they ride a bike?:  no. her parents never taught her. 

do they play any sports?:  hockey.  pick-up football games with her pals.

anything they’re bad at?:  meditating. lying.  makeup –– she doesn’t really wear any.

do they have any combat training? why?:  yes, some self defense moves her father taught her before her first day of middle school.  “ to keep those rotten boys away from ya, puck. ”

( &&. firsts )

childhood memory: her mother spilling roasted carrots and potatoes all over the kitchen floor. little darby belle watched from her high chair and laughed. her ma probably made a joke about confetti.

crush: lenny hawthorne, in preschool. the teacher handed out strawberries to the class and he volunteered to be her protector.

email address: heyitsdarby@aim.com

job: ice cream scooper. learn-to-skate instructor.

phone: a trackphone, shared with elody mae.

kiss: kitty hawthorne. seventh grade. because she said lenny wanted to learn if darby was a good kisser before he kissed her himself, and “ same blood means it doesn’t really count. ”  it counted.

love: clark. she gets starry-eyed just thinkin’ about him. her beautiful curly-haired doofus. she’s lucky.

sexual experience: with lenny hawthorne a few weeks after the kiss with his twin sister, kitty. only, throughout the entire time, darby belle caught herself wishing the lips against hers were a bit softer, and still tasted like grape chapstick.

( &&. childhood )

best childhood memory?:  it’s hard to pick one. she never really had a time in which both of parents were there with her, and choosing one? feels wrong. choosing any feels wrong. she likes when they were both alive. all of that time qualifies.

worst childhood memory? (tw: death, suicide) :  2007: waking up to the smell of smoke and a red-orange flickering light in the hallway.  waking up in the hospital to the news her mother didn’t make it. 2014: returning home from the game her father was supposed to bring gatorade to. finding him in their living room, slumped on the floor.

what were they like as a child?:  darby was always bright-eyed and sociable.  she rarely began conversation, but she’d inititate the precursor to it, running up to strangers, beaming at other kids in the park. it took a while for her to learn how to be aggressive on the ice: she didn’t want to be mean! her mother facilitated most of that –– “ your daddy’s a soldier, darby belle, don’t you forget that. ”

any crushes growing up?: a few. she probably would’ve had more, if she’d spent less time on the ice. or thinking about the ice. or using hockey as a way to avoid confronting her demons.

( &&. this or that )

expensive or inexpensive tastes?: frugal, but not inexpensive. a good middle ground.

hygienic or unhygienic?: hygenic.

open-minded or close-minded?: open, about most things.

introvert or extrovert?: extrovert, but prone to retreating into her thoughts.

optimistic or pessimistic?: optimistic, outwardly. sometimes it lapses to pessimism, but her natural disposition is peaceful –– so she can be angry and upset and unsettled, but eventually has to find some kind of way to mediate it.

daredevil or cautious?: cautious, to an extent. ( let’s change that. )

logical or emotional?:  emotional.

generous or stingy?:  generous.

polite or rude?: polite to most, even when undeserved. on the ice? she can be a menace.

book smart or street smart?:  street smart. she’s not not book smart, but her intelligence is definitely channeled more through the game and through music.

popular or loner?:  popular. darby’s a crowdpleaser. she ebbs and flows from sphere to sphere without much trouble. she fears being alone, and often prefers to have people around –– watch her struggle with having an empty home... yikes.

leader or follower?: leader. she’s hockey captain, after all. but she is quite impressionable, so others have a large impact on how she leads.

day or night person?:  day. but she’s most creative at night.

cat or dog person?: dog person, 100%. won’t hate on cats, but dogs love more openly. and she was named after a beloved childhood pet of her mother’s, so... maybe there’s some kind of soul connection there.

closet door open or closed while sleeping?:   c l o s e d . and barricaded.

( &&. social media )

do they have a facebook? twitter? instagram? vine? snapchat? tinder/grindr? tumblr? youtube? yes to all. briefly including tinder, at a hockey slumber party freshman year.

if so; name on facebook: darby belle. ( she leaves out her surname, because people never pronounce it right anyway. )

instagram user: officialdarbybelle

snapchat user: puckyouverymuch

( &&. musical tastes )

theme song: waiting for you –– tomtsu.  ( but it’s also canon her song... yep i did that. )

makes them sad:  our day will come –– amy winehouse. her mother used to cook to it in the background and serenade the ingredients. ave maria –– her father always used to beg her to sing it at christmas time, at their baby grand.

makes them dance:   blame it on a dream –– vhs collection.  it has vintage vibes. she can swivel her hips to this.

loves the most:  old fashioned –– bruno major.  it makes her cells thrum in the most delightful way.

( &&. miscellaneous )

do they have a fake i.d.?: yeah.

are they a virgin?: no.

describe their signature: neat spirals. looks a lot like calligraphy.

how long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse?:  she’d be the unlikely underdog to come out on top.

do they travel?: not really. the only travel she’s ever done has been for hockey games and tournaments, or the big move from tennessee to connecticut.

one place they would like to live:  ontario. it looks so calm.

one place they would like to visit:  los angeles.  she feels like she’d fit right in.  and their hockey mojo’s great right now.

celebrity crush: torey krug, bruins defenseman.  & matty healy.  what a dreamboat.

what can you find in their pockets/wallet/purse: chapstick, spare stick tape, spearmint breathmints. pictures of her parents, folded up and hidden behind a few miscellaneous receipts.

place(s) your character can always be found:  on the ice.  in her bedroom, making music.  the local coffee shop open mic night.  the grocery store, struggling on her tippy-toes to reach the jumbo bag of munchie mix.  running in the park, or all around town.  playing pick-up games on the school green.

when does your character like to wake up?:  4:45am.  to fit in a morning workout before school.

what’s your character’s morning routine?:  scrunch up her face and pull the blankets tighter, in denial that her alarm’s actually going off. rolling out of bed to switch the buzzer off. stretches. change into running clothes. a few loops around the neighborhood, then outdoor HIIT intervals, weather permitting. shower. throw on a long-sleeve, leggings, and her boots. grab a pop tart for the car ride to school and listen to elody mae scold her about a well-rounded breakfast the whole drive there.

what does your character eat for breakfast/lunch/dinner?:  when elody mae cooks, darby eats well –– lots of pinterest recipes and plant-based meals.  left to her own devices, she reverts to ease: poptarts, protein bars, almonds. sunflower butter and jam sandwiches. she typically skips lunch at school to write, or free skate, or sneak into the weight room with whatever team’s rented it out that period.

how does your character spend their free days?:  jamming with her bandmates or on her own. playing gigs or open mics. going for long runs. hiking, in bee-free zones. goofing off with her pals, road tripping to random landmarks around connecticut.  going on art supply runs with her sister, sometimes helping her set up her booth at the local farmers’ market on saturday mornings.

what’s your character’s bedtime routine?:  night run, bodyweight workout. stretches. some songwriting or listening to in-progress tracks. texting her friends. tossing and turning. sometimes falling asleep successfully. sometimes popping a pill or two to make it happen.

what does your character wear to bed?: comfy shorts and a sports bra. she likes to load up on the quilts.

if your character can’t fall asleep, what are they thinking about?: her parents.  her father.  if there’s a god.  if there’s really... anything.  lyrics.  her friends.  clark.  she’ll usually text him into the wee hours of the morning, if he’s up.

what is their idea of perfect happiness?:  getting her parents back. unattainable.

on what occasions do they lie?:  almost never. she really can’t do it successfully!

most marked characteristic: her eyes, her stature, her smile. her stupid canada birthmark on her foot.

what is one thing they’d most like to change about themselves?:  find some way to compensate for whatever left her dad still wanting –– enough to leave.

how would they like to die?:  happy. she realizes the irony, given her definition of it.

do they snore? nope!

can they curl their tongue?: yes! and she can also do that clover thing.

can they whistle?:  most of the time. it’s kind of a gamble.

** do they believe in the supernatural?:  does she believe in anything? she’ll get back to you on that.  but uh...  she tried to reason with satan to rescue her parents from wherever they wound up after their deaths .... and suspects something might have gone wrong. did she cause this whole trip situation? was this her?  does she believe in all that religious stuff still anyway? uhhhhhhh....... she’ll also get back to you on that, too.

has anyone ever broken their heart?:  she’s been heartbroken, non-romantically. romantically? not yet.

have they ever broken anyone’s heart?:  yes. and probably without knowing it.

are they squeamish?:  not at all.  except around bees, or allergens.

have they ever seen anyone die? what happened?:  she’s seen people  d e a d .  but never in the act of.

are they a lightweight?:  y e s !!  it’s hilarious.  you wanna know a secret?  do ya??  you sure??  are you positive?  okay, okay.  she’ll take a breath, tryin’ not to giggle too much in between words.  “ one time, in ninth grade, mr. hot sexy math man –– mr. keebler, yeah –– asked me out to dinner. would ya believe that ? ”   she’ll dissolve into a fit of melodic laughter and knock back the rest of her second drink.   yeah.  it be like that.