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Fish 1: I love hott fishes! Oh yeah! Fish 2: He's so dreamy! <3<3
Since there were were bricks involved, Happy Birthday, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wired_lizard! (I can't believe you're younger than me.)
Um, I didn't get you a present. Want a pretentiously first-person-plural Voldemort ficlet instead?
We didn't know why we had been called here, or indeed where we were, obeying silently the pull of his will on the marks which he had burned into us; but wherever it was, it dramatically appropriate, dark, damp and atmospheric, murkily illumined by green mood lighting. We gathered into our familiar places in his circle, moving restlessly inside our cloaks and masks, and waited. Waited for him to arrive.
He appeared silently in the midst of our dark ring, and when he had wordlessly gained our attention raised his shadowed head. "Peter Pettigrew," he said, in a voice of highest ceremony. "Stand to Center2."
You came out from among us, trembling in disbelief but head held high. Stand to Center for Honor was the way only the greatest among us were marked. You stepped forward, and slowly pulled off your mask.
"Stand to Center," he said. "For Shame."
You took half a step back, weak with shock. "W-what?"
We looked at each other, eyes hidden, but all shining with a certain mix of viciousness and pity. Stand to Center for Shame meant only one thing: a Salvaging3. And it had been a very long time.
"For Shame, Wormtail. You have disgraced us for the last time. You are a piddling, puling, putrid little coward, and you are nothing but a liability to us. You are an embarrassment to our name."
"Y-you c-can't," you said. "H-how can you? How dare you?" And then you stood very straight. "An embarrasment, am I? I c-carried you for over nine months4, and they weren't exactly the most pleasant months I've ever had, either!5 And to get that over with I had to endure agonizing pain6, but did you ever show me the slightest bit of gratitude? Of course not! Oh no, suddenly you've decided you don't need me anymore, and it's 'bye-bye, Peter'." You looked him up and down, his scrawny, ill-fitting body, still mostly knees and elbows, his spotty skin7, the shocked and petulant expression on his face.
"I nursed you8. I bathed you, and fed you, and cleaned up your messes. I sacrificed the best years of my life to you. I did my best to guide you, but did you ever listen to me9? You had to learn it all for yourself the hard way, and look how that turned out! But now you've got yourself that bitch Bellatrix, and suddenly I'm an 'embarassment'?"
One of us started snickering, and it spread among us inexorably, but you didn't notice. You ignored us, focussed on him; he looked rather like a snake caught in the headlights.
"Well I'm afraid it doesn't work that way," you said. "There are some bonds too sacred for even you to sever10, my lord. You were born of my flesh, and you can't just undo that."
"Be careful, my Lord," one of us said, amusement in his voice. "You might wind up getting a spanking."
You spun on us and gave a long look. "You think this is a laughing matter, do you? I could spank him. Do you think anyone could stop me? You never did understand the old magicks11. I could do worse than that, too. I know all about the stupid things you did as a teenager, Lord. I could even tell them about your father12." You crossed your arms over your chest. "But I won't. You think you don't need me anymore? Fine. I'll go. But don't come whining to me when you and these good-for-nothings get yourselves in a mess again, because I won't have any sympathy for you." And then you stomped out of our circle, and disappeared into the night.
"Fine!" he called after you. "You think I care? You never understood me, anyway!"
We stared at him. "What?" he said, defensively.
1.Exodus 32:5
2. this tradition derives from Richard Bach's Jonathan Livingston Seagull, one of the Dark Lord's all-time favorite books.
3. Because he's also very fond of 1980's feminist writers, of course.
4. from the Lexicon: approximatey Aug. 23 1994 through June 21 1995.
5. GoF, ch. 1
6. GoF, ch. 32
7. GoF, ch. 33
8. GoF, ch. 1
9. GoF, ch. 1
10. SS, ch. 17
11. SS, ch. 17
12. Scabbers was Ron's pet duing the CoS affair, so presumably he'd know the whole story.
/me whistles innocently and saunters away . . .
wired_lizard! (I can't believe you're younger than me.)Um, I didn't get you a present. Want a pretentiously first-person-plural Voldemort ficlet instead?
The Fifth Commandment1
We didn't know why we had been called here, or indeed where we were, obeying silently the pull of his will on the marks which he had burned into us; but wherever it was, it dramatically appropriate, dark, damp and atmospheric, murkily illumined by green mood lighting. We gathered into our familiar places in his circle, moving restlessly inside our cloaks and masks, and waited. Waited for him to arrive.
He appeared silently in the midst of our dark ring, and when he had wordlessly gained our attention raised his shadowed head. "Peter Pettigrew," he said, in a voice of highest ceremony. "Stand to Center2."
You came out from among us, trembling in disbelief but head held high. Stand to Center for Honor was the way only the greatest among us were marked. You stepped forward, and slowly pulled off your mask.
"Stand to Center," he said. "For Shame."
You took half a step back, weak with shock. "W-what?"
We looked at each other, eyes hidden, but all shining with a certain mix of viciousness and pity. Stand to Center for Shame meant only one thing: a Salvaging3. And it had been a very long time.
"For Shame, Wormtail. You have disgraced us for the last time. You are a piddling, puling, putrid little coward, and you are nothing but a liability to us. You are an embarrassment to our name."
"Y-you c-can't," you said. "H-how can you? How dare you?" And then you stood very straight. "An embarrasment, am I? I c-carried you for over nine months4, and they weren't exactly the most pleasant months I've ever had, either!5 And to get that over with I had to endure agonizing pain6, but did you ever show me the slightest bit of gratitude? Of course not! Oh no, suddenly you've decided you don't need me anymore, and it's 'bye-bye, Peter'." You looked him up and down, his scrawny, ill-fitting body, still mostly knees and elbows, his spotty skin7, the shocked and petulant expression on his face.
"I nursed you8. I bathed you, and fed you, and cleaned up your messes. I sacrificed the best years of my life to you. I did my best to guide you, but did you ever listen to me9? You had to learn it all for yourself the hard way, and look how that turned out! But now you've got yourself that bitch Bellatrix, and suddenly I'm an 'embarassment'?"
One of us started snickering, and it spread among us inexorably, but you didn't notice. You ignored us, focussed on him; he looked rather like a snake caught in the headlights.
"Well I'm afraid it doesn't work that way," you said. "There are some bonds too sacred for even you to sever10, my lord. You were born of my flesh, and you can't just undo that."
"Be careful, my Lord," one of us said, amusement in his voice. "You might wind up getting a spanking."
You spun on us and gave a long look. "You think this is a laughing matter, do you? I could spank him. Do you think anyone could stop me? You never did understand the old magicks11. I could do worse than that, too. I know all about the stupid things you did as a teenager, Lord. I could even tell them about your father12." You crossed your arms over your chest. "But I won't. You think you don't need me anymore? Fine. I'll go. But don't come whining to me when you and these good-for-nothings get yourselves in a mess again, because I won't have any sympathy for you." And then you stomped out of our circle, and disappeared into the night.
"Fine!" he called after you. "You think I care? You never understood me, anyway!"
We stared at him. "What?" he said, defensively.
1.Exodus 32:5
2. this tradition derives from Richard Bach's Jonathan Livingston Seagull, one of the Dark Lord's all-time favorite books.
3. Because he's also very fond of 1980's feminist writers, of course.
4. from the Lexicon: approximatey Aug. 23 1994 through June 21 1995.
5. GoF, ch. 1
6. GoF, ch. 32
7. GoF, ch. 33
8. GoF, ch. 1
9. GoF, ch. 1
10. SS, ch. 17
11. SS, ch. 17
12. Scabbers was Ron's pet duing the CoS affair, so presumably he'd know the whole story.
/me whistles innocently and saunters away . . .
no subject
no subject
But I think it worked better than I expected, at least in something this short.
The Dark Lord is *fundamentally* a bratty teenager.
!!!!!
*cheers for spine
less!Peter**cheers for any fiction involving footnotes*
OMG! Would you mind if I shunt a Peter-obssessed friend of mine over here? This is a path for the man to take I've never considered before. And so in line with the whole deep-and-primal-magic theme. And so very Gryffindor. OMG!
*ponders first-person plural POV as well, and the oddities of the 'you'*
Goodness. You made my brain happy.
*ships Voldemort/Peter on the penultimate line*
(And a lot of people think I'm rather older than I am. 'Cept for the ones who think I'm a lot younger. Ah well. ;))
Re: !!!!!
And any friend of Peter is a friend of mine. :)
*ships Voldemort/Peter on the penultimate line*
Yes, well, in *this* fandom, it's incredibly hard to present any kind of intense relationship without something that becomes subtext. . .
You know, I have read Voldemort/Wormtail and liked it, but V/W incest? Well, maybe.
Happy!Brain is always a good thing! Just stay out of reach of the tentacles!