#wiltimeline

Timelines Week

A past. A present. And a future. So often in RP, we only get to explore our characters’ present – even though we’ve developed their past and know that they’re on the path to future development (whether decided by canon or our own plotting designs). For many of our characters, we have an idea of the extensive future events that lay before them, as well as the past memories that have shaped them as they are today. It’s part of plotting and developing our characters: what we want for them, what the future has in store for them, how their past shaped them.

It’s not always that we get a chance to hop around and explore all those different plots and moments that may live in our heads. And it’s a shame, sometimes, that we can’t linger in our characters’ past...or jump straight ahead to their juicy/terrible/wonderful/angst-ridden futures.

So, for one week, we want to encourage our writers to do just that!

That’s why we are introducing Timelines Week! Consider yourself gifted with a meta timeturner: you can write your character at any time in their past or their future, all to get the muse rolling and to perhaps shine a clearer light on what’s in store for our characters and the ones around them.

Ways To Participate

We encourage members to start a thread or write a self-para that takes place either in your character’s past or in their future! Remember to please stick to canon timelines for this – but if you’ve been itching to put your muse through the ringer, get a look at their post-war life, or bring them back to a simpler time… here’s your chance to do it in a time travel playground!

Feel like hurting everyone’s feelings and writing your character’s death, or do you want to gift everyone with something nicer; like a future wedding or an unexpected reunion between characters who haven’t seen each other in years? Go for it! The future – and past  – is creatively yours for the taking. Don’t worry too much about hitting topics you might eventually get to again here at Who Is Left if you’re in it for the long haul with us: the admins are big proponents of re-writing old scenes and threads if they still spark some writing passion, and you’d be amazed at seeing how much your writing can change from now until then!

As always, plotting is heavily encouraged! Open starters are a great option to play around with, but starting conversations with your fellow writers is going to be the best way to get amazing threads out of this event. 

OOC Information

This event lasts from right now until 11:59pm EST on Tuesday, June 11th. No new starters may be created after that time, although old starters can still be newly replied to after the deadline. 

Please tag all starters with WILTimeline. 

Please also state clearly in the thread title that it is a Timeline thread, and indicate the date. An opening description would help your fellow writers out a lot - please do NOT leave these vague, especially if you’re hoping for lots of interaction!

Reminder that this is not the same as an AU week event - all threads/edits/inspo posts must be canon. Your character is just traveling forward or backward on their same, canon timeline. 

For instance, Sirius would either be in jail or cooped up in Grimmauld Place if he were to move forward into the future. 

Characters like James and Lily may not be able to go too much further into their futures but open flashbacks and scenes set closer to that fateful Halloween are all on the table.

Benjy loved Mary's apartment. He couldn't always place why as it always changed, but it definitely revolved around the woman who inhabited it. This was a place he could come in good times and bad, drop into a chair, and have a cuppa with someone who understood him.

They had never been an outright similar pair, and their experience with the wizarding world had a resemblance in being marked by the worst in people. Too few seemed to get his attachment to the Muggle side. Too few understood how he could live with a foot in each and be happy that way. He maintained he didn't have to pick; that was letting them win as much as anything.

He was back here again, tucked into what he, at least, regarded as His Spot, with his hands wrapped around his mug and smiling for a change. It was subtle, but not as forced as most of his feelings were these days. 

"When was the last time you felt excited about something?" Benjy asked. "Not overly, just looking forward to it. I'm trying to remember, but I can't place it anymore." It was sad, in a way. He found happiness in a lot of the moments with the Order. Deep friendships, outright fulfillment, and unquestionable challenges, but true excitement was another category. Being excited over a mission wasn't like this. That was part necessity. "I'm just curious."

@goingxstag

Ideally, James Potter’s ego would make him a much, much more pleasant candidate for interview than his blushing bride. Still, she wasn’t taking any chances, so she made plans to trap him as well if necessary. This was the first major wedding she was covering and she planned to get a damn good article out of at least one of them, if she had to die trying!

Well, maybe not quite that far.

Unfortunately, she didn’t actually know where he liked to spend his time. She’d spent too much effort on Lily and hadn’t had a chance to research James yet, so her best plan for now was simply to knock on his front door. Which she did. Hard. As soon as it opened, she stuck a foot inside and spoke quickly, not pausing for breath or mental punctuation -- fingers crossed he was another sexist man with a hero complex and would refuse to risk hurting her by slamming the door on her foot.

@remus-whoisleft

      After weeks of staring at the same four walls, James was fairly certain they were closing in on him. All he’d heard for the last month is that he had to stay in with Lily and Harry, had to stay under the radar to protect them, especially Harry, from a terrible fate at Voldemort’s hands. It rankled, being treated like a child rather than the capable wizard he was, especially while the rest of the Order continued to wage war against the Death Eaters. He could be out there, fighting alongside his friends, really protecting his child and his wife -- but instead, Dumbledore had possession of his invisibility cloak, and Lily was watching him, constantly reminding him that he was of no use to his family dead. They were all united in keeping James at home, useless and stir-crazy. 

    If that was the end of it, James might not have been pacing a rut in the kitchen tile while Lily put Harry to bed by herself. He would doubtlessly still have been frustrated and feeling caged in, but a recent meeting with Dumbledore, Sirius, and Peter had added fuel to the fire burning steadily beneath his skin. The prophecy that likely referred to Harry as the Dark Lord’s downfall had been a blow to the face, and paired with the idea of painting a target on Sirius’ back to make him the Secret Keeper of their hiding place, James had nearly lost his mind. It was one thing to risk his own life -- risking someone else’s was impossible. And then, after he’d believed the matter settled, Sirius threw him for another spin: he wanted James and Lily to use Peter, instead. Apparently, it was brilliant, since no one would expect the small, unremarkable man to be chosen as Secret Keeper, but all James saw was yet another target painted on the back of yet another friend. 

     The knock at the door startled James out of his sulk, and he touched the wand hidden in his pocket to reassure himself before stepping toward the entrance and peering out the small window to see who was calling so late in the evening. Paranoia was hard to shake in those days, and James didn’t believe in being too cautious, not with Lily and Harry just upstairs. 

    Remus stood on the other side of the door, looking worn and battered, and James sucked in a breath as his stomach turned guiltily in his abdomen. The fourth Marauder had been deliberately left out of all meetings relating to the Potters’ relocation and hiding, had been eased out of most of their meetings -- and not just the ones relating to secrets. Sirius almost always came to visit by himself, bearing gifts for Harry and warnings about their old friend for James. Remus was always gone, disappearing off by himself with no reasonable explanation. Sirius was struggling to trust him, and while James knew to take his best mate’s observations with a grain of salt due to his tendency toward the dramatic, James couldn’t help but begin to worry, himself. 

   The warnings had been enough to make James opt not to read Remus in on their change of plans, and to make him hesitate a moment too long before swinging the door to the house open in welcome, though he hated himself for it. James did not want to be the sort of man who mistrusted his friends, especially one who had been nothing but loyal and steadfast for their entire acquaintance. He did not want to be remembered as the type of person who could doubt a friend’s integrity, or allow foolish bias to affect his perception of a person. And if the concerns had been brought up by anyone but Sirius, the man who knew Remus best, who James knew would die for him, they would have been dismissed outright. 

    As it was, James could only feel tamp down hard on that seed of doubt and the guilt it evoked as he stood, face-to-face with the man. He was relieved to find that when he looked at Remus’ tired face, that spark of mistrust wasn’t enough to extinguish the pleasure that seeing another of his friends alive and -- reasonably well, at least -- wrought. 

The parents were socializing on the large patio, but they might as well have been in a different country. It was the start of summer, meaning the Carrow’s party season was in full effect. 

On the large green lawn, surrounded by luscious and magically enhanced gardens, the sprinklers floated in the air to drench the happy children running underneath. Amycus stopped running to catch his breath, finally out of range from the darting sprinkler. 

He could hear his mother’s pleasant musical voice rise above the rest of the crowd as a hostess’ should. 

“Oh, you’re badddd,” she laughed, nearly the youngest in the patio company. “Come here, you have to hear this! Walburga, you’ve got your hands full with this one, ohh!” she shrieked like she’d been surprised by a cheeky pinch.

Amycus searched the garden for his twin, water running down his face from his sandy-blonde hair. 

Benjy slept on his decision and slept well. That distinction had really made up his mind for him. He gave it a second blissfully restful night off duty after seeing a normal friend before he went in and told Moody that he wanted to shift teams to work research. He firmly believed he could help it move a hair faster up against the impossible, and he, Dorcas, and Vince had always worked well together. He had a knack for this.

He left off that being in the field was actively killing him and promised he'd take it on again whenever they really needed him. They were hurting for people in every way.

He slept again. Closer to his usual four or five hours, haunted by racing thoughts that kept him up and turned into nightmares when he was finally pulled under. His specialty might have trended wards and shields, specifically their signatures and getting through them, but that had hardly spared him over the years. This wasn't what he was meant for, and it had taken a lot to convince him he had plenty to offer off the battlefield.

Benjy felt like he should look radically different. The dark circles were still under his eyes, wrapping too high and giving him that familiar, sunken look, but maybe, a bit of the hope was back. The bit for what he was in it for was unwavering even up against brutal tactics and unending fights, he believed this was worth it. This was for the improbable chance he survived it. Alive, and as himself.

Smiling didn't feel right, but he was still lighter. 

The closest he'd come to feeling this way in the past couple years was when he was blatantly ignoring the wizarding world for his Muggle one, and even then, he was followed by the knowledge it was unsustainable.

He tied back stringy hair, shrugged into his coat, and set off for headquarters. He passed the room he would soon call his base in search of the one person he felt he owed an explanation to. Benjy didn't expect to find her so easily in the war room despite having slept late morning into the afternoon today. He had been prepared to wait, not for this.

"Hi," Benjy said, still a bit hollow but for different reasons than his usual. "What do you have for us today?" He leaned forward on the table in the center of the room as he always did, in the typical start to their routine. If there was anyone he owed explaining the switch to, it was Gretchen. With all her constant support and training; she was both the reason he was here and why he'd survived this long.

He was a lot more afraid of letting her down than he was Moody. Or anyone else, for that matter.

@evanrosier-wil

This was shaping up to be quite possibly the worst piece Rita had ever written in her entire life. Including her very first ever “interview” with her older sister at age eight.

She supposed it was just what she got for being so stupidly talented. Whoever’s idea this had been, though, Rita intended to find and hide somewhere very far away where they could never submit such ridiculous proposals ever again. Honestly, an “eligible bachelor” profile? On Evan Rosier?! It was preposterous and had no business in the paper, even if it was for her Valentine’s series. But someone, somewhere, wanted it done, and so she had no choice but to do it.

He was going to be absolutely unbearable about the whole thing.

They’d agreed to have the interview in a mostly public place. It would make it much more difficult to get away with hexing one another, no matter how badly she wanted to. So she sat in a semi-secluded corner booth at a restaurant in Diagon Alley, and waited for him with a distinctly unpleasant scowl on her face -- which only deepened when he appeared.

@bellatrix-whoisleft

Bellatrix Lestrange -- or Bellatrix Black, as some may remember her -- was imprisoned several years ago for the torture and permanent psychological damage of Frank and Alice Longbottom. That crime was clearly enough to warrant her lifelong sentence in the most secure portion of Azkaban, but what many don’t know is, that was not even remotely her most heinous offense.

This reporter was allowed into the depths of the world’s most terrifying prison for an interview. Though merely setting foot on the island put my own life in grave danger, I persevered for the sake of the truth. You, my readers, deserve to know the full extent of the crimes committed by this woman -- though after all is said and done, you may wonder whether she still deserves to be counted among the fairer sex.

Not long before the tragedy that befell the Longbottoms, we all remember the fateful night the Potters fell at the hands of Sirius Black, whom I also interviewed several years ago. The secret that was never revealed until my own conversation with Bellatrix: she was there as well. It was her own wand, not You-Know-Who’s, nor Sirius Black’s, who murdered Lily Potter while her sweet baby Harry screamed for his mother. Bellatrix bragged about this. What kind of woman takes pleasure in taking a mother from her child? I suppose, one who doesn’t believe the child will live much longer to care. The interview was, at that point, far too nauseating for me to ask for more details of that night.

Further, Mrs. Lestrange, wife to the eldest son of the Lestrange family, admitted to having had a very close -- even ‘intimate’ -- relationship with her Dark Lord himself. Apparently, the bonds of her marriage bed were simply not enough to contain her deviant behavior. This portion of the interview held what I would describe as the only true emotion Bellatrix showed for the duration of our time together -- regret. She admitted that she’d hoped to fall pregnant with You-Know-Who’s heir and was unable to do so. 

Now, under normal circumstances, I would feel immense sympathy for any woman with fertility problems. However, I can not find myself able to commiserate with someone who wanted to continue the line of such a madman. More of that evil in the world? And raised by this woman, a woman willing to murder indiscriminately and torture with no remorse? I shudder at the thought.

These, among many, many other crimes, create the full picture of Bellatrix Lestrange. These are heinous enough, but the ones I dare not print. . . dear readers, I wish I did not possess them within my own mind, and will not subject you to the same terrors I know. Simply put, we should all be very grateful that Bellatrix Lestrange is imprisoned in the one place that can never be escaped.

~~~~~~~~~