#erm. yeah

[ouroborosreilig]

dental hygiene fluid

[synapsephase]

[falseren]

[boba-pearl-writes]

1/31 - remember- word count: 741 - @rosekillermicrofic - major character death

It was just a normal mission. Another one of those “strike fear in the hearts of the muggles and they will listen” assignments. They didn’t even have to take down any aurors this time.

And then they saw Moody.

Mad-Eye Moody was one of the best aurors that there ever is, was or will be. At least, that’s what the auror department called him. They weren’t joking, either. The only people who remotely stood a chance against him were the inner circle of the Dark Lord- which included Barty and Evan.

Barty was a promising Death Eater, and, because of his smarts and cleverness, quickly rose up the ranks. Evan was one of the best duellers they had, who had once, before, taken down three aurors at the same time.

Moody, this time, though, had the element of surprise. 

As soon as he saw them, he cast an expelliarmus towards Barty, and Barty was too slow to dodge. Then, Evan sent a dark hex back at him, and Moody blocked it with a well timed protego. 

They sent hexes and curses back and forth while Barty got on the floor and swept his hands across the ground to try to find his wand. His hand closed around the familiar wood and then-

“DIFFINDO!” Moody yelled, just as Barty whipped around and yelled “STUPEFY!” Moody crashed backwards into a tree from the force and desperation of the spell. At the same time, Barty heard a strangled scream of pain from behind him. 

Fuck. 

Evan. 

Barty turned back around and rushed to where Evan was stumbling back against a wall, hand and arm pressed against his chest protectively. Barty helped Evan sit down, helpless as the blood seeped out from behind his hand. Barty gently pried Evan’s hand away to reveal a deep slash across Evan’s chest. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered under his breath as Evan coughed blood onto the ground. Barty didn’t have the spell to help Evan, and he doubted there was a spell strong enough to bring anyone back from this. The gash was too deep, Barty was pretty sure the spell had affected his heart. 

They didn’t even have hope. In those last moments, all they had was desperation. 

Barty’s mind was frantic, trying to figure something out. Something, anything. Please. 

He couldn’t live without Evan. He wouldn’t. 

“I-“ Evan rasped, fighting to get the words out. Evan’s beautiful hazel eyes connected with Barty’s own gray blue ones and Barty went still. 

For once, Barty went still and just looked. He looked at Evan, looked at him like a drowning man grasping for straws, like a thirsty man gulping down fresh water. 

“Barty,” Evan said, and tears welled up in Barty’s eyes. He wrapped his arms around Evan carefully, trying not to disturb the wound. He tried to hold on as tight as he could to something that was so fragile it could crack in his arms. 

“Evan,” he said, and his voice cracked. “Rosie, angel, don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“Don’t- don’t do that. Please, Bee, I don’t- I can’t- I never wanted to leave you.”

“Ev-“ Evan looked like he was confessing something- something of finality, an ultimatum. 

“I love you so fucking much,” Evan said, and his voice cracked. He started coughing out blood again, and Barty helped him through it, then laid him down so that Evan’s head rested on his lap. Evan raised a hand to Barty’s face, his fingers brushing Barty’s cheekbones. “Don’t forget me.”

Barty placed a hand over Evan’s. “Never. I-“ Barty let out a wet laugh “-you’d have to kill me and suck my soul out to make me forget Evan Rosier. My Rosie.” He offered a small, tearful smile.

Evan’s eyes fluttered, like they did when he was tired. Barty didn’t want to think about that. He tightened his grip on Evan’s hand. 

“Remember to…” Evan trailed off, then blinked a few times, each blink longer than the last. “To find me after this life. Or in the next.”

“I promise,” Barty whispered. Evan’s face softened. 

“Love you, Bee.”

“I love you, too, Rosie.”

When Evan’s breath slowed, and then stopped, when his heart didn’t beat out those familiar rhythms Barty knew anymore, when his eyes closed for the last time, Barty buried his face in the crook of Evan’s neck and cried. 

Evan was gone and, with him, so was a piece of Barty’s soul. 

[rystiel]

i’ll actually draw this fr someday eventually hopefully but for now here’s this

[ghcstao3]

(from this post. i got excited)

It’s an easy job, at the very least.

Show up, have Price assign a location, sell produce for eight hours straight, go home. Repeat the next day, or two days from then, whichever is most convenient to the farmer running the entire operation. Proceed all summer long.

It’s simple, almost too simple, but who is Johnny to complain when he’s getting paid above minimum wage to essentially sit around all season?

At least, Johnny wouldn’t be one to complain if it weren’t for the fellow university student he’s consistently paired up with to work alongside.

It’s not that Simon is rude or unpleasant or anything—in fact, if he was, Johnny thinks it might make things a bit easier—he’s just… quiet. And frustratingly intriguing but so unresponsive to Johnny’s attempts at making the days that seem to stretch on forever just a little more bearable.

At some point Johnny starts to think Simon hates him, with the way he’ll hold longer conversations with customers than with his own coworker. It’s miserable, in all honesty, because Johnny had just hoped to come away from this job with a friend, like most of his past employments—instead he’s been saddled with one-word responses and the barest hint of a cold-shoulder and it’s driving him insane.

But Johnny lets Simon ignore him. He’d prefer mutual company, sure, but he also recognizes when limits are set.

So when they’re trapped under their stand of the day, huddled together as much as two people can be without touching, Johnny still makes no attempt to spark conversation even as the chill of an anomalous late-June near-freezing cold soaks into his bones. He keeps his mouth shut even when he begins shivering uncontrollably, not wanting to disturb Simon and whatever contentedness he feels in his silences and steady gazes.

Though, Johnny nearly whines when Simon gets up and takes his warmth with him after muttering something about getting something from the truck.

Then Simon is returning, and something silver and crinkling is being draped over Johnny’s shoulders with a tentative care before Simon is returning to his spot without a word. Johnny pulls the emergency blanket tighter around himself and finally allows himself a glance at Simon, still composed and unreadable as ever.

Johnny dares break the silence with a soft, “Thank you.”

Simon shrugs a shoulder. His eyes are still firmly set ahead, to the space where imaginary customers stand in the pouring rain.

“Don’t imagine Price would appreciate having to fill out a report if you got hypothermia,” Simon says. 

It’s the most words he’s spoken to Johnny in succession, and it comes at a slight shock. Johnny stares, wide-eyed, incidentally boring holes in the side of Simon’s face. He watches Simon’s jaw work, almost like he’s chewing on the regret of opening a line of communication to Johnny.

“I’m sure he’d find a loophole,” Johnny quips.

Simon huffs. Johnny suspects it’s the closest to a laugh he might ever get.

In the lull that follows, Simon hangs his head, picks at a loose thread on his jeans. There’s almost a bashful quality to the action as he asks, “What do you call a bear in the rain?”

Johnny frowns. The first time Simon ever really talks to him, and he’s… setting up punchlines? But even amidst his confusion, Johnny echoes, “What do you call a bear in the rain?”

Simon looks up at Johnny, brown eyes sparkling with mirth. “A drizzly bear,” he replies in a deadpan.

Johnny snorts before bursting into a fuller laugh, fingers curling tightly around the edges of the blanket as he doubles over at the absurdity of… everything. There must be something in the air. In the God-awful weather.

“That’s horrible,” Johnny laughs, “Just terrible.”

“There’s more where that came from,” Simon tells him, sounding vaguely pleased with himself.

“Well, go on, then.” Johnny grins. His stomach cramps with fading laughter. “Give it your best.”

And Simon sure does.

Johnny isn’t too certain what’s shifted between them to cause this, in this short frame of time. But either way, he’s glad for it.

Now he can only pray it holds up for the rest of the summer, let alone their next shift together. This side of Simon is far better than anything Johnny could have hoped for, in his prior endeavours to be amicable.

How he could listen to Simon telling stupid jokes for the rest of time.

Johnny can't wait to learn more about him.

[strawbshark]

oo nikki's birthday is tomorrow !! X3 happy birthday nikki <33 i'm so excited for the sword grrr

[spiderlilyvalley]

ma phantome (villanelle)

I thought I saw you standing by the door waiting for me.

You licked your lips and whispered softly ‘Come here, adore me,’

Words I thought only my mind could conjure up again.

Midnight struck and by my luck I was sitting alone in bed,

Trying to place this night smell when something caught my eye-

I thought I saw you standing by the door waiting for me.

Loose in silk, or maybe velvet, or maybe my eyes were cross–

Maybe in this life your name is still something that feels homely,

Words I thought only my mind could conjure up again.

I exalted from my chamber and rushed to you, la phantome, 

Legs weak from misuse but arms flinging ever forward.

I thought I saw you standing by the door waiting for me.

Hands met fabric and then nothing at all, ma phantome,

Nothing at all to place myself against lest your fragile memory,

Words I thought only my mind could conjure up again.

Within this lonesome sorrow is some shredded gleam of hope,

That tears me from the inside and yearns for something more.

I thought I saw you standing by the door waiting for me.

Words I thought only my mind could conjure up again.