they’re the only two people left in the world. they’re the saaaame but the opposite. haunted and alone and clinging desperately to their identities bc it’s all that they have left. they both struggle w their control over their own mind - for sybill, this fight is w interior forces in her visions and the way they blur the lines of reality. and for barty, obvs exterior forces ie. the imperius & the dementors etc etc - and this means they can understand each other in a way that no one else really can. it’s specific and purposeful - interactions that remind them of the fact that they are in control of themselves and their environments, that they are real and present (bonus level of fuckery w barty wearing moody’s body btw. all he has is his mind in a way that sybill doesn’t quite ever have her’s…..). they’re grounding each other and unravelling each other and also i cannot stress enough that they are the Only Ones Left. they’re familiarity but also a stark reminder of everything that’s changed, everything they’ve lost. two people that probs should have died a long time ago and sybill is miserable, and guilt-ridden, and wishes she had died and barty is angry, and vengeful, and staying alive out of spite but the important thing is that they are alive. and that they’re alive together….. until they’re not (barty dies xoxox sybill is alone again xoxoxox)
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the thing about sybarty is you wouldnt think it at first but sybill absolutely does match bartys freak. sybill is so kind and sensitive dont get me wrong but shes also just as unhinged as barty is. like she would absolutely learn necromancy to bring him back to life if he died, shes just like that and so is barty. theyre both a little insane and i love that for them tbh
also. what do you think about sybarty like…. on the run together…. i think they work best when they’ve both lost everyone they’ve ever loved and are miserable and suffering and the only people that understand each other….. i can’t remember if i ever told you about post apocalypse them….. hang on sorry literally just spilling my thoughts into ur inbox rn but i was thinking about them earlier and forgot to text you about it so have this instead <3333
YOU DID A LITTLE BIT BUT BARELY AND I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR MORE <3
honestly they fascinate me a lot. especially your version of them. and also you’re the sybill prophet to me
like they’re both so alone by goblet of fire, and supposedly possibly knew (of) each other back at hogwarts. i don’t know if i can see them romantically ??? but i would be into being persuaded………. but i think their dynamic would be so so so so interesting. especially if they were on the run together. like they’re the last two people on earth…. left behind by everyone and escaping the rest of it. i think they have the same sort of quiet about them and could sort of easily understand each other ??
pls kara angel baby darling hannibal to my will tell me more about them <3
thinking about sybill and how violating it must be to have a mind that - plagued as it is by visions of the future, other people’s futures, often people that she doesn’t even know and maybe never will know - can never truly belong to her. how violating it must be to have the very inner depths of her mind be filled with rivers of other people’s fates, the beginnings and the ends, endless tangling strings of people’s lives pressing through her mind, the constant lack of privacy, lack of self-definition in the very place which should really be the most private, the place where the self should be defined most clearly
also thinking about barty and the violation of the imperius curse. you guys get it. you see it. i don’t have to say it. you understand.
@marauders-rarepair-fics • may 9: weed • 913 words
Peter squints suspiciously at the thing in his hand.
“What did you say this was again?”
“Weed. It’s a Muggle drug,” Barty grins. Sybill nods bouncily from where she has wrapped herself around her boyfriend’s arm, leaning her head onto his shoulder.
“It opens the mind,” she helpfully intones.
“Come on, Petey. Won’t you let us open your mind?” Barty says, waggling his eyebrows as he leans forward until his face is mere inches from the other boy’s. Sybill follows the movement with a spacey chuckle, her owlish eyes watching as Peter’s cheeks redden at their proximity.
A moment later and Peter is leaning away with a sheepish laugh. “And where did you two find this?”
Sybill perks up. “Oh, it’s mine. Cannabis is excellent for achieving accurate palm readings. Want to try it out?”
“…The drugs or the palm reading?”
She hums and lets go of Barty to reach forward and grab Peter’s free hand, gently running her fingers against the soft skin of his palm. “Whichever one you like, doll.”
“Or we could do both,” Barty cuts in. “Both is also good.”
Peter nods distractedly, his eyes trained on Sybill’s hands where they cradle his own. “Er, yeah. Both is good.”
“Always knew you were a smart one, Petey.” Barty claps him on the shoulder before he summons a Muggle lighter from his and Sybill’s bedroom. She lets go of Peter’s hand to grab it and his eyes follow the movement mournfully.
“Hm,” she hums lightly and plucks the spliff from Peter’s fingers. “Who wants to go first?”
“How about I go first and show him the ropes?” Barty wraps an arm around her and tugs her close, dragging her halfway into his lap. She laughs and swats playfully at him.
“Alright, alright,” Sybill says with a grin, twisting in his lap to face him. She carefully pops the tapered end between his lips and, with gentle concentration, leans closer to light it. The flame catches and she leans back with a satisfied smile as her boyfriend inhales.
Smirking, Barty reaches up to take the spliff between his fingers and remove it from his lips. He holds it in for a moment before blowing the smoke in Sybill’s face. She coughs and bats away the smoke as he laughs until she shoves at his chest fondly. “Arsehole. Should’ve known you’d do that.”
“Right as always, princess. Now budge over, me and Pete have got some weed to share.” Sybill giggles and obediently lifts off of his lap, flopping back down into her spot on the expensive plush sofa Barty had brought back to their flat a couple months prior. She’s pretty sure that he stole it from that annoying coworker he’d been complaining about, but she hasn’t asked.
“Alright, Petey.” Barty drags himself to the other end of the sofa where Peter is. His eyes widen when Barty all-but crawls on top of him and boldly sits on his lap. Barty smirks at the squeak Peter lets out.
“You were watching me take that drag, right?” Peter nods quickly, his eyes darting to the other boy’s lips before going back to his eyes. “Good. You think you got the basics?”
“Er, sure.” He says uncertainly. “Inhale, hold, exhale, yeah?”
“Exactly right. Quick learner, you are.” Barty raises his hand with the roll and cups Peter’s cheek with the other to hold him still. “Now you try.”
Sybill watches giddily as Barty leans in close and lowers the used spliff to Peter’s lips.
Immediately after the first inhale, he starts coughing. Barty pulls his hand back with a cackle, the other one still cupping his face which is now even more red.
“You alright there, loverboy?” he snickers and Peter bats his hand away in embarrassment.
“Fuck you.”
“Well, if you’re offering.”
“Barty!” Sybill chides as Peter splutters, so red it’s almost concerning. “You’re gonna scare him away.”
“Oh, alright,” he huffs and finally climbs off the poor boy. Sybill darts forward to snatch the spliff from Barty, taking a quick practised drag.
“Right then,” she breathes. “Are you still up for palm reading, doll?”
Peter clears his throat, his cheeks still deliciously pink, and nods. “If you’re up for it.”
“Oh, she’s always up for it, sweetheart. Obsessed with divination, that one is.” Sybill smacks at his arm.
“What he means to say is of course I am.” She takes another drag then hands it over to Barty before she starts nudging at his leg insistently. “C’mon, love, switch with me.”
“What?”
“Can’t exactly read his palms with you stuck in between us, can I? Come sit on my end.”
Barty snorts. “Yes, dear. Whatever you want, dear.”
Sybill preens when he stands and presents his seat to her with a theatrical bow. She moves to drop into his vacated middle seat, cross-legged and eager while she makes grabby hands at Peter. Barty flops over onto the end seat with a thump and peers over her shoulder as she grabs Peter’s hands and flips them palm-up, tracing the lines with her fingers.
“Alright, now let me see… Hm, your life line is pretty short— No, that doesn’t mean you’re going to die young. Don’t listen to Barty, he’s horrible at Palmistry. Anyways, let’s see… a strong head line, that’s good, that’s good… Your fate line could use some work, but that’s alright. Oh, your heart line is fantastic! Long and clear with many upwards branches… Oh, Barty, stop looking so smug…”
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