#chat's fics

I decided to just delete the original version of this post, because I can only seem to share Ch1 specifically through this method anyway.  But, this post will at least show I have posted two chapters of this fic already, while the original one (which, most people won’t see anyway, since it will be gone soon), only shows I have posted 1 chapter.

In the original post, I talked about my notes doubling up on Ch1, now that I have posted Ch2, I was able to fix that.

Anyways, the first 2 chapters, i.e. Part 1 and 2 of the Prologue are now posted on AO3.

Will be posting any new chapters after these 2, every one or two weeks...give or take.

I might (real maybe here) post the “official” Ch1 earlier than I said, but I am not if that will be the care or not.

Seriously though, once again happy to start sharing this fic with ya’ll!

Will also be posting the tumblr versions of the first two chapters hopefully soon as well.  =)

It was Sunday.  Dipper slept in till 11:30 am, then he woke up, got out of bed and got dressed.

He put on his blue pants, white shirt with magic sigils and symbols on it, red leather jacket (he grew to really like leather, because of his father), his favorite blue and white hat with a pine tree on it that he almost always wore (despite it being his favorite, he could never remember where he originally got it though.  Or when), and his black gloves (he had fingerless ones too, that his father gave him, and he did like those.  But he always preferred the more formal, non-fingerless gloves.  The kind of gloves rich or really old-fashioned people might wear.  Which made his sister tease him to no end.  Saying he was an “old man” and all that.  His father also sometimes teased him too about it.  His mother, in contrast, would say he had good taste in gloves; way better than his father.  She would say the latter usually, when she caught her husband teasing Dipper about it).

Once he was done with that, he went to the bathroom to brush his brown, streaked with blue and yellow highlights (once again, his father and mother were major influences on him and his sense of style.  Though his mom’s hair didn’t actually have any highlights right now, she still did like to have them from time to time) hair.  While brushing his hair, he decided he would make sure his bangs were covering his birthmark today.

(Which his parents thought were super cool, so didn’t get why he hid it.  Especially since it was why his sister and them called him Dipper.  And he didn’t really know why either.  It was almost like covering it was an old habit or something.  “Or something”, because even though he felt strangely like that it was an “old habit”, he felt like he didn’t always cover it.  Which was partly why he didn’t always cover it himself.  Those feelings didn’t really make sense though, like some of his other “feelings”, so all he could really say to them in answer, was that it was just something he felt like doing sometimes). 

Once he did that, he also brushed his teeth, and headed right down to have a late breakfast.  

 —--

 Luckily his parents knew their kids liked to sleep in on the weekends, so when they had the time, they would make late breakfasts for him and his sister (though, upsettingly, sometimes just for him).  

When he got there, his sister was already up, and was sitting at the table already, giving him the same forced smile she had been wearing a lot that week.

…His sister had been really acting weird this week.  Well.  Even weirder than she normally was.  He had tried to ask her about it, but she would just brush it off.  Usually by talking about other stuff, like boy bands, and make-up guns she made that would actually kill someone instead of applying make-up, or asking how he was doing and how was school and did he make any new friends (Dipper had no idea why his sister kept asking him this question, because on the rare occasion Dipper actually did make a new friend, his sister would act happy, but really, to Dipper, that happiness appeared to be fake more often than not, and sometimes she would even…,no let’s not think about that Dipper, best not to dwell on that.  Dwelling on that never ends well.  So we're going to stop doing that for now.  Yep.), or maybe just tackling him to the bed and roughhousing with him or tickling him, or etc.  It was all very normal things she would do and ask with him, but there was more nervousness to them, it seemed more forced, more like she was just deflecting.  

She had gotten pretty good at hiding how she was actually feeling and stuff over the years, but Dipper had just enough practice seeing through that.  So he could tell that something was wrong.  Could tell something was weird.  

Like that goddamn forced, fake smile that she had been sporting almost this whole week, which was starting to drive him kind of nuts at this point, he wasn’t going to lie.  He really wished she would just cut it out already.

 —--

 Dipper after saying a “Good morning” back to his hugely-smiling mother, Angelica Zilver.  Who was as glamorous as always.  Even on a day like this with no special occasions.  Her platinum blonde hair pulled in a long, pretty ponytail.  With gracefully put-on make-up.  Like red eyeshadow and pink lipstick.  And all decked out in a dark purple, classy business suit.  You could really tell she was a businesswoman and the head of her own fashion line, even just by looking at her.  

And to his more stern-faced (who was actually pretty chill, his face was just kinda..like that most of the time) father, Aaron Zilver; though one corner of his mouth was also crooked upward in a slight smile as well if you paid enough attention.  His father, who dressed less glamorously (thought, not by a lot) than his mother, but still looked cool with a black shirt with a skull on it, black leather jacket, black pants, some black mascara and eyeliner, and had brown, slicked-back hair that was streaked with purple and red (his red highlights looked more natural than the purple though.  And for all Dipper knew, maybe they actually were; it could be hard to tell with his Dad.  Especially since his Dad liked to joke and mess around about stuff;...well, sometimes he did.  Like, he always loved to joke about his highlights.  Saying they were real in one instance and saying they were fake in another.  And it could be so hard to tell which one was the truth, because he just sounded so damn convincing either way) highlights.  Truly, still a punk-rock drummer at heart, despite being mostly retired now.  He wanted to be more ready and available for his newly-adopted kids. 

Went to go sit at his already set-up place across from his sister at the table.  Where he would sit down, and narrow his eyes at his sister.  

His sister, who was wearing her usual kind of outfit.  Today of which being a pink and orange tank top, with a kitten on fire on it, surrounded by a rainbow (just looking at it kind of gave Dipper a headache), red shorts, and her long, past her butt, red hair, that she had pulled up in an intricate braid.  

And that very same sister was also still showing him that same ol’ fake grin that he was slowly growing to despise.

 —--

 “Good morning to you too, Scar.”  Dipper said the nickname he usually called his sister - a term of endearment between them - with more bite than he usually would, “I see that you are in a good mood once again this morning, just like you have been since Monday.”, Dipper finished off with thinly-veiled sarcasm, a fake smile of his own, and fake joy.

What, Dipper never said he couldn’t be a petty person.  And he had tried to give her time to say what was wrong on her own, but it had been almost a week since she started acting like this, and Dipper was growing annoyed (and increasingly worried).

Scar kept her fake smile on, and only replied with a “Good morning of her own” and an eye roll she tried really hard to suppress, but failed to.

Scar then proceeded to stare at her empty plate, sometimes drinking some orange juice out of her glass, all the while saying nothing more.

Dipper just stared at her, waiting for her to say anything at all, while also sometimes taking drinks out of his cup to drink his chocolate milk that his parents had placed next to his empty plate at the table.

 ………………………………………………….

 ………………………….

 ……………

 ……..

 …

 When Dipper finally couldn’t take the unbearable silence anymore, he finally leaned over whispered loudly, in an irritated, but also sympathetic tone, at his sister, 

“Scar, seriously, what is wrong, you have been acting weird all week, and I am starting to get worr–”,

he was cut off by his parents yelling breakfast was ready and asking their kids to come help set up the food on the table, so they could all eat.

Taking this opportunity to dodge Dipper’s questions, Scar got up quickly, chair almost falling over with how abrupt she was.

“Coming!”, she shouted.

Dipper was taken by surprise with Scar’s sudden leave.  “Huh?  ..Wh-wait–Scar?”, he stuttered, until he realized what Scar had done, slammed his hands on the table, causing his dishes and glass to shake, spilling some of his chocolate milk, and then shouted after her, “Scar, where do you think you are going?!  Can we please just talk about this already?!?, Dipper said without trying to hide it from his parents anymore in the slightest.  Too mad to hold himself back.

“Young man, don’t yell and make a mess!  Where are you manners?”, his mother berated.

And his father just looked over at him with his signature “I-am-not-happy with you” Look, sighed, and then shook his head, before saying,

“Listen to your mother.  On this rare occasion, you should actually be following your sister’s example.  Look, she is already setting the syrup, butter, and chocolate chip pancakes on the table, while you were making a scene.”

“What, but–”

“No buts, Leo,” (oh man, he must be mad, to be purposely using Dipper’s real name instead of the nickname he usually went by), “now, go finish off setting up the table, so we can eat breakfast-well technically brunch, but whatever, it is breakfast to us.”  His father cut him off.

“Fine.”  Dipper begrudgingly muttered.

 —--

 Dipper went over to the kitchen, and got the scrambled eggs and bacon and set those on the table.  His parents brought over a cartoon of chocolate milk and orange juice.  His mom topped his class of chocolate milk, and poured her and her dad some orange juice.  They didn’t top Scar’s glass.

*Cough* “Hey, Mom, I think you forgot to top Scar’s glass.”

His mom looked confused for a second, and then realization dawned, “Ah, of course, yes, your sister’s glass, of course.”  She stuttered like a robot.

His mother walked over to pour some orange juice in Scar’s glass, but was stopped by Scar, who raised her hand in front of her in a halting sign.

“That is fine, Ang - Mother”.  Scarlet purposely almost calling her Mother by her real name in her disdain for her, before changing it, though she said both the “slip-up” and “mother” with a peculiar edge to them.  “I don’t need any more orange juice, but thank you anyway.”  Neither her words or tone sounded sincere whatsoever, not helped by her previous “slip-up” and the small glare she was giving her mother, though she did try to quickly conceal all of that before her mother could really notice, but well, Dipper still noticed.

And Angelica of course noticed too, “Oh.  Giving me lip now, Scarlet Zilver?  You really think I will take that from you?”, she asked with a calm coldness.

“Yeah, yeah, I am sorry ‘mother’.  I will try to keep my mouth in check.”  Scar said in a better tone this time, but not much better if anyone was being honest about it.  

*Sigh*  And with both a look and voice that sounded tired, ”That is the best I am going to get from you today isn’t it, Scarlet?”

Scarlet didn’t say anything in reply.

“Okay then, let’s just eat I guess.”

“That sounds nice, let’s just do that, instead of talking.” Scar replied this time, even though their mother hadn’t really been directing that at JUST her.  Her voice was still all fake cheer and happiness when she replied this time too.  Similar to the one Dipper used on Scarlet, but it seemed it was for different reasons than why he used it.  Well, besides the irritation.  Both him and Scar were definitely both irritated when they used that tone.

Like mother, like daughter, the mother also loved giving eye rolls.  And she certainly gave a huge one at her daughter; not even trying to hide it, before going on to eat her breakfast.

Dipper, having seen both mother and daughter give eye rolls (or barely suppressed ones), both thought they were being childish with each other, so he just “hmphed”, and ate his own breakfast while trying to ignore them.

Throughout this whole exchange, the father just watched, and once the whole thing had blown over, and they knew the argument wouldn’t get bad enough that he would need to step in (arguments between the mother and daughter weren’t really uncommon in their household), finally got started on his own meal.

 —---

 The Zilver family spent the rest of their breakfast in uncomfortable silence.  None of them talked even while cleaning up after their meal, or once they started to go their separate ways; all, for the most part, doing different things on that now Sunday afternoon.

Before they had left each other, you think they would have said something to each other.  Said anything.  You would think the silence would have gotten unbearable enough where someone would talk, but when everyone in the Zilver family (from the 4 of them, that is) were all stubborn as all hell (some, way more than the other(s) though), well, whoever talked first, lost, and no one wanted to lose.

 .....

 They were all childish, just like Dipper had accused his mom and sister of being.

But it wasn’t just them that were childish, but the whole family was, including his father, including Dipper himself.  Even IF he would vehemently disagree with that.  He was the same too.

The whole Silver family was childish.  Stubborn.  Competitive.  Hated losing.  The works.

There once lived a girl whose parents she both loved and were terrified of.

There once lived a girl who saw things she probably should have never seen.

There once lived a girl who had tried to get help, but no one ever believed her.  Her family seemed “perfect” after all.

There once lived a girl who wished her family was actually perfect and that she wasn’t so scared of the parents she loved.

There once lived a girl who had finally “crossed” one too many lines for her parents and so they decided to make her vanish.

There once lived a girl who was abandoned by her parents all alone in a forest of horrors; left to die or maybe even worse.

There once lived a girl who was saved from that dark, lonely, horrifying forest from a being of nightmares that most would wish they would never meet.  But to the girl, the shadow-y being was her knight in shining armour who had saved her.  

And there once lived a girl who showed up at a police station mysteriously all alone, covered in a bright red hoodie coat, covered in mud and dirt and branches and no shoes, but strangely not even a scratch on her. 

------------------------------------------------------

They asked her for her name, but she just responded with silence.  When asked where her parents were and why she was there.  The only things she would say was that her parents left her all alone in a forest and that she was rescued by a being of darkness and shadows.  That being was her Knight, her hero.  

At this, the police were left both saddened by her explanation and also confused; thinking that maybe she had conjured up hallucinations in her fear or even due to hyperthermia.  They didn’t doubt she was probably rescued from the forest after being sadly left there by her parents, but they did doubt who rescued her.  Since from her description of it, it sounded more like something that would gobble up children instead of saving them.  It was probably just her mind and darkness playing tricks on her.

The girl, when told gently this, would protest vehemently about what she saw.  Saying she knew what she saw and she wasn’t lying!  They didn’t say she was lying, but to her, it felt like they were.  She would keep saying how she was rescued and by whom, even if her memories were kind of murky and cloudy and she couldn’t remember everything, what she did remember she told.  And she never once changed her story.  In the end, her rescuer was put as Unknown in the report.  

The police also tried to look into her parents, since the girl, when they were able to get her to talk more, told them her parents weren’t always really the best and that they scared her and she tried to get help, but no one believed her, because their family appeared so “perfect” from the outside, and that, she had done something that finally made her parents mad enough that they didn’t want to keep her around anymore.  That her parents and some other people, some she recognized and some she didn’t, had gagged her, blindfolded her, tied her up tightly and roughly and threw her in the back of some kind of moving vehicle.  She didn’t know what exactly though, because she couldn’t see.  That she had laid in the dark and cold of that vehicle for a very long time.  Roads turned from smooth to rough, to finally, the vehicle stopped, and she was dragged out of the car, and where she had tried to fight back, but couldn’t do so very well, and as such only got a punch to the gut and a smack in the face for her trouble.

This part and some other parts of the story would baffle the people hearing the story, because some of the stuff she said happened, should have left wounds or at least markings, but there hadn’t been a scratch on her.  When asked about that, all she would say is that her Knight took care of those for her.  The police started to think more and more that some parts of her story was her mind trying to protect her from the trauma she went through, which actually happened.  Because while some things certainly happened, some other things felt a lot more outlandish, and for lack of a kinder word, “made up”.  

These thoughts though, weren’t voiced outloud, but if you were paying enough attention, you could see it in their faces or in their voices, and the girl, oh how did she see and hear it.  How she hated people thinking she was a liar!!  The police asked the girl to continue the story, and they thought for a second she would clam up again and decide not to speak for awhile, because she had gone quiet.  And the girl toyed with that idea, to just stop answering their questions, and the girl almost did, if at least, out of spite.

------------------------------------------------------

 …But after a beat.  2 beats.  3.  4.  She finally continued.

And said, after they hurt her like that for trying to fight back, that they had dragged her by her arms and hair for awhile, she couldn’t tell how long, but it certainly felt like at least minutes.  After they had dragged her for some good time, they just.  

…Stopped.

 … 

Stopped and dropped her and then just walked away without saying a word without untying her, or taking off her gag or blindoff or anything!  They had just dumped her in the middle or who knows where, in a state where fending for herself and surviving would be very hard and just left!  Her own parents, even other people she had known had just left her for dead, and, and…And at this moment, she stopped, she couldn’t bear to continue the story, and the police didn’t think they should force her.  

They said they would get the rest from her later, but in the end, they never did.  At least, she would never tell the rest of the story to the cops, that is.  When the cops realized they never were going to get rest, or maybe they thought the girl just couldn’t remember it or couldn’t speak the rest.  

They asked for her name once again, because she had never answered it when she was first asked.  And once again, she was silent, until she finally said that she didn’t remember her name.  They asked her again, saying it would be really hard to track down her parents and those other people and bring them to justice if they didn’t have a name.  And at this, the girl just put her hands to head and it shook violently.  Yelling that she didn't remember her name, or her parents or anyone!  That she was really trying to remember, but it felt like there was a gaping black hole in her head whenever she tried to remember that only threatened to engulf her more she thought about it, and that, it hurt so much to think about it.  And.  And.  A n d dd ddd….. anddd…  I–I…  ….they..

The police finally stopped asking about it, because the child was in clear distress.  And every time after they asked her again about this, they would get a similar, to the same response.  So, due to her not having a name, the Police of that station decided they should come up with one, thinking it must be terrible to not have a name.  And they ended up spit-balling what her name should be for months.  None of the officers there had been the best at names.

------------------------------------------------------

Yes.  The girl did end up spending months living in that town.  Living with multiple different policemen and women.

Usually, she would have been taken where kids like her usually are taken to, when something like this happens.  But due to  just how unusual her story and the state of her was, and just how small and in the middle of nowhere in a pretty small community, this police station was, they decided to just house her, with them, until further notice.  

After months and months (about 8 or so months) of this going on, and being bounced between policed offers, and being asked questions about what happened, they decided they couldn’t really get any more information than they already had from her and that no one around there could take her, and so decided it was time she left for foster care.

They unfortunately couldn’t find more permanent housing for her, though they had tried, part of the reason why she stayed in that town for so long, and that was all they could really do in the end.  On her papers they gave to the adoption centers and her Foster Care Home, the police officers of the Dayton Police Precinct (Precinct, because they were the main, and only station of the very small town of Dayton, Arizona) that the girl had found herself in, the name they had come up with about 1 month after she was found, having been called usually child, girl, the girl, Miss, kid, kiddo, or Red until she got her official name; “Scarlet Hood” was put.  

She was named thus, after the striking red hoodie she was found wearing, and her stunning long, past her butt, wavy scarlet hair that she had.  Like what was said, the cops there weren’t the most creative with names, but hey, at least this one was quite pretty and striking, just like the young girl was.  

Though..

…In the future, her name and her hoodie and her hair, wouldn’t be the only reds and fiery colors she would come to be associated with.  

Scarlet had been living in her new home now for 4 years.  The longest she had stayed in one place ever since she was put into foster care.  Her and her brother were now 16 years old.  Just turned one a month ago.

She should be happy.  Should.  But she wasn’t.  She was far from it.  For she had found something in her parents’ rooms she hoped to never find.  Files that caused her to silently fume in her room that she had run back to after reading them (and putting them back the best she could, so her parents didn’t know she read them), thinking about them.  Files that talked about putting her up for adaptation once again.  

She didn’t even think that was possible anymore.  This wasn’t just a foster home, but supposedly her and her brother’s permanent home.  But, somehow, maybe due to her long, not-so-good history in foster care and even her history before that, they had figured out a way to get her put up for adoption once again.  To put her back in the Homes.  

How could they do this to her?!  Put her back in the Homes, to be carted from 1 to the next, probably until she was finally legal to be by herself, which wasn’t even that far off, just a couple years.  And when that did happen they would just kick her to the cubs to fend for herself.  Like she was nothing.  Like trash. 

Seriously though!  How could they?!  How could they?!?  She was already 16!  No one would want to adopt her at this age.  NO ONE!

Scarlet was just positively seething thinking about this.  Seething so much, you would think her fiery red hair was actually made out of fire.

 ……However that wasn’t the biggest reason why she was upset. No, the biggest reason why she was upset–was that Dipper’s name wasn’t anywhere in the files with hers.  Not even his “real name”, which would make more sense to show up in the files than the nickname she came up with after seeing his birthmark on his forehead (though that isn’t actually the real reason she started calling him that).

 ….................

 Hmph.  Real name.  How funny.  

Scarlet thought darkly for a split second, before sinking back into her fuming thoughts once again.

Why would they just want to send her back and not Dipper?

Was she not good enough?

Did they love him more than her?

Did they just hate her?

How could they love someone like Dipper more than her!

HER!!!!???

After thinking very jealous and self-hating thoughts for awhile, she calmed down, & came to realize she was being cruel and unfair to Dipper.

That she was being very selfish.

It wasn’t Dipper’s fault after all, that it looked like they wanted to keep him and not her.

It was her parents–no, it was hers–herparentshers–NO!!!  It was HERPARENTS’ FAULT!!  Just theirs’!  Yes, just them, and no else’s.  Certainly not her.  Nope.

After that barrage of unwanted thoughts, thank you very much.  Scarlet had another realization, and a horrifying one at that.  

And that was, if they were to send her away, they would be separated, since it would be just her, and not Dipper too.  And she didn’t want that.  No, not at all.

She loved and needed him far too much for that.

Dipper was her K-adorable brother after all.  

Even if they weren’t related by blood, they had been adopted together, and before they were adopted, in the foster home (though they weren’t together in the foster home very long before they were actually adopted.  A month, maybe a bit more, maybe a bit less at most probably.  However, in that short amount of time, they had gotten to know each other well.   It was like they had known each other forever), and before that even, they had been close as well.  Closer than even Dipper knows.  No matter what.  They were still siblings!  They still loved each other.  They still needed each other.

….................

And Scarlet Hood, now named Scarlet Zilver, wouldn’t let them be torn apart.  Not again.  Never again.

She wouldn’t allow that to happen.

No matter what she had to do.

….................

AN:

Alright.

So I decided to post this earlier after all, lol.

So honestly, just keep on excepting a new chapter every week or 2, with it sometimes being earlier or later (though, with how things have been going, earlier seems more likely for me), because even with the whole fic basically done, I still can't seem to stick a schedule, lol.

Anyways.  This chapter, is pretty important for some of (not all) of Scarlet's motives and how she acts around certain people for the rest of the fic.  So a pretty important chapter despite not being the longest chapter out there.

See you guys next chapter(s)!!!

….................

P.S.:  Some of the spacing and formatting might be exactly right and how I want it on Tumblr, because I am using rich text and not html (though, I can get most of my formatting and spacing right with rich text on AO3 though, so don’t know what is up with that), like some lines and paragraphs and etc., should have more than 1 space between them, and some stuff should be underlined not bolded or italicized or both,

(someone said you could use the link thing to underline, and I tried, but it didn’t work.  Probably because it wasn’t a real link, because I didn’t want to actually link anything, just underline, but I don’t know how to do that stuff without using html on tumblr/here, and I rather not deal w/ that.  I can deal with that stuff more/better on AO3, when I do use html over rich text, because the editor/poster there is bigger, and there are tools and Docs and info to make it easier)

The young girl of 6, now newly named Scarlet would then be moved from one Foster Home to the next.  Too weird some would say.  A liar others would say.  Too brutal and destructive.  Not a team player.  Creepy.  Cruel.  Just a whole myriad of reasons why they couldn’t keep her really.  Never-ending.

One of the bigger reasons (though not the only one) for why though, is they found all her “Knight” talk disturbing and unsettling.  Some even thought it sounded demonic.  Or the more pro-nat people thought it was some kind of “horrible” preter that saved her.  These kinds of foster parents wanted her gone mostly out of fear and because they thought she was a bad influence for the other kids.

Really though, these foster homes just had so much trouble dealing with her and her Knight talk.

She was always just going on and on about her monstrous, shadow-y saviour; all the time.

It was Knight this, Knight that.  Her hero.  Her saviour.  How much she wanted him to come back to save her.  Besides the foster parents who thought her Knight sounded demonic or were pro-nat, others saw her Knight in different ways.

The more cruel foster parents who heard about her “Knight”, would then say he was fake or she was making up stuff about her rescuer.  

The kinder ones who heard about her “Knight” would say, while he indeed saved her, and hence, she wasn’t wrong to call him her Knight, that he was also probably just a person, paranatural or not, and she shouldn’t expect him to save her again.  He had his own life, and he shouldn’t be expected to always be there for her, to always be there to save her.  Some of her foster parents would even go as far to say that she shouldn’t expect anyone to save her, but herself.  You can say, those were the more realistic of her foster parents, or maybe, the more cynical.

In the end though, despite their different views on her Knight, they all got rid of her the same.

Just like they always did.

Be it due to the Knight or not.