#monstrousaints

[magewraths]

✘ $ ✉ / alastor & cecelia rip

Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text.

FROM THE OFFICE OF ALASTOR MOODY. 

Miss Avery, 

If you would be so kind as to keep that greasy fuck your fiancé out of my department, I would be eternally grateful. I do understand that some men regretfully neglect their reading comprehension skills, but I do sincerely hope that Mister Rosier can read the fucking signs on my goddamn doors understands, at the very least, indicative arrows and symbols. If children looking for their parents in upper levels have the wherewithal not to wander into the Auror Offices, certainly your counterpart can do the same. Dumbass. Your own avoidance of my floor would lead me to believe that you, at least, know where certain unauthorized presences are not welcome. Do see to it that he minds where he wanders. 

Kindest regards, Alastor Moody

Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text.

the letter is delivered in an owl-related mix-up. it is after this that alastor vows never to use a ministry owl again. 

Arthur, 

Please tell Molly that I don’t need any comforting today. I know how she gets -- never should have told her that today’s the anniversary of, well, you know. Seems like she’s not even inclined to look my way in the lifts anymore. I hate being a fucking sap, Arthur, but I also can’t goddamn handle anniversaries, ‘specially bad ones. Seeing her flaunt that rock she’s got on her finger, today of all days -- gotta keep believing that she’s not trying to rub it in my face. That’s not her way. She’s too damn good for that, too damn good for him. 

Being alone is easier. I don’t know how you manage, loving Molly like that. Lucky you, knowing you’ll never lose her. 

Anyway, I’m done being sappy. Gonna put some whiskey in my coffee. Fixes everything. You coming for lunch?

Alastor

Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT.

Cecelia, I know I’m not a man of means, nor am I a man who knows how to treat a woman such as you. I must admit I’ve never really loved anyone before, save my own family. I debated sending this to you, but I figure the time we’ve had I figure life is a gift and I figure you’re going to I Shit

Cecelia, I may not have much money, but I do have respect for you that I guarantee he doesn’t have. Being an Auror doesn’t pay much, but you’d be safe. 

Cecelia, I know where I rank in the scheme of things -- half-blood and falling to pieces, with barely a galleon to my name. And I know how I feel about you for certain. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Letters are fucking stupid. 

Cecelia, Hard to believe you said yes to that prick so easily. Didn’t peg you as the sort to I understand that you’ve got some lofty ideas about “duty”, but you don’t have

Cecelia, What happened to you to make you think that you’ve got no way out of this? Is this really what you want? Do you love the guy or not? Listen, Cece, you’re no picnic, but you’re the most amazing woman -- I know how the world works. I’ve got nothing to offer next to that asshat. No status, no big house, not enough money to sustain your infatuation with those fancy teas. But I’m too fuckin’ involved, Cecelia. I’m in it too deep. Just say no. You don’t have to be what they want you to be. They’ve got you trapped, Cecelia, and one day it’s gonna destroy you. Maybe not right away, because you’re stronger than hell, but eventually -- I see what this shit does to people. What those people do to each other. You’re not like that. You’re better. You’re different. You’re better. 

the letters are all stashed away, but never destroyed. perhaps one day he’ll send them all.

[magewraths]

✆ ✉ ø ♀ / frank & alice . . .. icb

Send “✆” for a MORNING text.

frank, had to run early this morning. bellatrix owled and asked to meet me. probably wants to show me her shrunken head collection, or her harem of sacrificial virgins. i’ll report back. wish i could have stayed. you looked so peaceful - and so adorably rumpled - that i couldn’t stand waking you up. you need the rest. i’ll write again as soon as i can. different owl next time; i think this one is being watched.i love you. see you soon.

a.

Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT.

frank, i can’t do this anymore. i’m coming home. i can’t pretend anymore - i can’t not be with you. i need to be with you. right now. fuck this whole ruse, fuck the charade, fuck everyone who told me that this was the right thing to do. let’s just run away, you and me. we can change our names, wear disguises, run so far away that they’ll think we’re dead. i’d rather be dead than be here any longer, with these horrible people. i’m doing it. i’m leaving. i’m packing a bag, and i want you to come wi just can’t do this anymore! i’m tired! i you’re all that matters towhy did we ever think that this was a goodwe can run away, and have lots of babies, andi want to be a longbottom, finally. i want to we can just who am i fucking kidding. wrong wrong wrong.

the letter is crumpled and tossed into the fire, never to be thought of again.

Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text.

frank,no time to come back tonight. sorry. rain check? important business. going to be in wales. if you don’t hear from me in a day the carrows have eaten my heart for lunch.i’ll save the little red thing for next time. about time i got to actually wear the little red thing, don’t you think?

a.

Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text.

the envelope holds a scrap of paper and a ring, worn only twice. 

f, too dangerous. found out. disappearing for a while. don’t look for me. love you. be safe.

a.

[magewraths]

goblin & valkyrie ( alice / alastor / ted )

goblin: what do you fear losing the most?

ALASTOR. he thinks of the young souls that come and go from the auror office every day, of those who populate the order safe-houses, of those who crowd his office when meetings bring them to the ministry when all else fails. he thinks of marlene and her strong will, of dorcas and her willful eyes, of james, and sirus, and remus, of lily – of all those who he cannot find, and those who he cannot protect. he thinks of those who have slipped from his grasp, and of those who have placed themselves just beyond his care. 

“allies,” he says, evading, satisfied with the ease of the answer; the noncommittal nature of it keeps him safe, shrouded, easy, “i fear losing allies at opportune moments.”

ALICE. she is being watched, and she knows it. she tosses black hair over her shoulders and shrugs. “I fear losing the advantage,” she says, though her heart aches and her mind strays at once to her husband, to her mary, to her order. her worst fear has already come true. she has lost their respect, their trust, their friendship – and all for the cause. but it is worth it, in the end. 

“i fear losing this war,” she answers again, “and i fear that our work will all be for naught.” whose work, the onlookers will never know. 

TED. “andromeda,” he answers at once, nodding fervently, “i can protect the animals; i can keep my job. but andromeda… i often have nightmares in which i’ll wake up and she’s gone. of her own volition or otherwise.” he pauses, shaking his head, the heel of his hand pressed to his brow. 

“don’t tell her i said so, alright?” he clips, “i know it’s bullshit. i know i’ll die before i lose her. but can you blame me?”

valkyrie: is there something that you would fight to defend? if so, what is it?

ALASTOR. there are too many things that would suffice to answer this particular question, and so he chooses not to answer it outright. he thinks of a past love that he still clings to, of a family that he would die to protect – both blood and adopted family, though the latter is more precarious than the first. he has taken great pains to hide the first, and so he mentions them not; even here, they are not safe. he thinks of those who could be his family, of those who sit just beyond his grasp; love, friendship, companionship – he cannot lose them, cannot hope to defend them, if he barely has them to begin with. 

“everything,” he answers, shaking his head. he’s taken a swig or two from the flask in his upper right desk drawer, and he is feeling liberal with his truth. “if you know me in any capacity, you know the answer to this question. take a look at those who populate my department –” and those who make up the order, “– and you’ll know the answer to this question. no more, no less.” but this is a lie. there is so much more.

ALICE. she blinks pointedly, wondering if she is being tested, watched. she looks about, mouth half-ajar; it looks as if she is the only other in the room, as if there is no one to mark her answers, to fact-check her against some imperceptible metric that makes her one of them. it’s hard to track her, to size her up; she’s silently proud that it’s this difficult. 

but she’s alone now. she can be honest. 

“frank,” she begins, “i don’t care what they think i am – what they think i’ve become. i dread the day i see him in the field, and i have to… to…” she shakes her head, “I would rather be found out than let him hurt. I am forever loyal to the cause, but I can’t confidently say that I could let him… that I could… that he’d…” she shakes her head again, entirely useless. 

“everyone, everything, that i’d defend –” she pauses, “– thinks i’ve betrayed them. and it needs to stay that way. for the betterment of all of us.”

TED. he huffs, shrugging, sighing – “how much time do you have?” he muses, “andromeda, above all. she’s seen no kindness from the world, and she deserves it. i’d fight ‘till the end of my life to see her safe, happy, comfortable.” he casts a gaze about, then, and shrugs a second time. “and the animals, of course. and my friends. the whole order – ” he shrugs, “i’ve always been a caretaker, ya’ know. can’t help my nature. but it feels good to take on charges that need me. i’m a good study; i’d fight to defend them all if need be.” 

he pauses, and then: “but andromeda –” a nod, solemn, “till the end of my life; i’d fight to defend her, to see her happy. were i to choose one thing, one person, above all… i’m not a fighter, but for her? could be.” but he cannot help but be consumed by thoughts of the muggleborns – just like him – who’d be lost without this war. without them, too, he’d be a little lost boy.