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beware-of-pity · 4 months ago

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Pythia Hiereia - III

Masterlist I Ao3 link I Chapter Two - Next

Harry James Potter x Reader

Summary :

In my restless dreams, I see that castle. Hogwarts.

Chapter III: But then she noticed me glance at her (I had no choice but to dance with her)

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Harry was certain it wasn’t good for him to think so much. He was frying whatever last sane thought he had left in his mind, and it wasn’t helping his shaky belief about what he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had witnessed a few days ago in Knockturn Alley. He pondered it repeatedly, twisting and turning it in every possible way, yet he could not shake that he always arrived at the same conclusion: that Draco had become a Death Eater.

His anxious looks — constantly turning his eyes to watch his back in case he and his mother were being followed — twitching demeanour, and a sense of unwillingness in whatever he was lead into could indicate that whatever he and his mummy were seeking out of Mr Bourgins was no average day-to-day incanted necklaces or dragon skulls, that Harry would rather not like to think how Mr Bourgins got his hands on, request of customers willing to pay a petty penny for whatever they were there for.

To add to his annoyance of the matter, it was the fact that neither of the other witnesses of this event seemed as bothered by it as he was. Harry thought that Ron and Hermione, who were more than familiar with Malfoy’s antics, would be the ones raising eyebrows over what they had seen, and yet he barely got a reaction from them — not what he had hoped for. Neither shared an interest in discussing the many possibilities leading to and resulting in Draco and his mother’s actions.

Nor could he hope to turn to Ginny either. As the one often kept out of the trio’s adventures for obvious reasons, mainly her safety, she could not understand the seriousness of Draco’s unusual change of character. The most she knew was that he was a prick, but that was public knowledge to anyone familiar with Draco’s name. If anything, Ron and Hermione had grown more than annoyed by Harry’s insistence on the matter and his constant blubbering over the theories he came up with. It came to a head on afternoon, where after the last of endless dismissals, Harry got the point and decided he would not share his conclusions until he was certain of them. He didn’t feel heard, and he wasn’t sure even the adults would be willing to listen to him.

Sure, he was just a boy, but no boy his age had faced the things he had. He possessed a maturity unbecoming the nature of his boyhood, and yet it was one he could not rid himself of. No, he stunk of it; he carried it within him like heavy baggage weighing down his shoulders. Always at his back, pushing down, as a reminder that he would never be normal and he would never be given the normalcy he craved and deserved.

But for how much he wishes for someone to hear his opinions, even he was uncertain of his thoughts. After all, for whatever reason would a boy of Draco’s age even become a death eater? But for Harry, many, many reasons would ditto so.

For one, Lucius’ imprisonment following the guilty verdict of his trial. Draco had always been one to hold onto his feelings. Harry was sure that injustice was swelling within him as his father was carried out of the room, soon to be thrown into Azkaban. He could not dismiss the fact that Draco and his family had taken it upon themselves to ensure they lay their own perverse sense of justice in the matter. Revenge is a dish best-served cold, or so they say, but Draco’s rage may be surging too intensely through his body for whatever he was planning not to have a greater impact than what his initial impression of the situation suggested.

What happened to Lucius wasn’t an injustice by any means. If anything, Harry had wished he’d faced a much grander show of humiliation. Had Harry had his way, he wasn’t sure if Lucius would have met a more deserving conviction or not. As much as he craved to hurt those who had hurt him far more than they had him, he did not have it in him to hurt others.

The cruciatus curse he had failed to throw at Bellatrix Lestrange was testament enough to that.

He had to mean it; he had to, and yet he did not. The woman had killed his godfather, the man he viewed as a second father, and yet even when given the opportunity, he could not bring himself to hurt. He wished to see her writhe in pain, begging him for mercy, hearing her screams echo through the halls of the ministry as his magic coursed through her body, injecting her with the same pain he was hurled constantly by the man she was devoted to.

And yet she did not. It hit her, but all the red blast of magic coming from the tip of his wand did was startle her in slight shock, if not anger at the audacity he had done so with, and him to a degree. All because he did not mean to. He spoke it, directed it at her — but as they say, if the heart does not mean so, then, even as the mind screams against it, it could not carry itself to complete what his nerves had begun almost automatically. Hurting Bellatrix would not bring Sirius back, that he knew.

Poor Harry. Even when given the opportunity, the opening, into a situation where he could have had every right to act upon his feelings, raging inside of him like a storm, as his heartbeat to a mile, and adrenaline rushes through every crevice of his body he could not but face the true nature of his self.

And despite everything that life threw at him, Harry could not, and would not stray, from who he was. No, he could not allow it. If he loses himself, what else would he allow himself to lose? It all begins with him, and if he ends up ending himself before everything is to come to an end, what will remain when everything is gone and done?

He wants to be tender and merciful because if people like him did not exist, then who would battle the wretchedness of mankind? He was sure it sounded overly valourous.

‘Sounds like penance’ he could almost hear a certain someone resound in his ears. But it wasn’t you, not it could not since you had not appeared in his dreams following the night he came to face you in the dark woods of the burrow.

He spooked you, perhaps? But you had sought him out, led him to meet you there. Angered you? He’d asked if he would see you again, and your absence could not be a clear answer to the question that had been left unanswered. As if he needed more things to trouble himself with, this wasn’t it.

It... bothered him. How empty his mind was without you swimming along the banks of its river, at the edge between the living and the surreal, the real and the fake. It came to the point where he’d come to imagine the sound of your voice speaking his thoughts to himself.

How pathetic. How low had he stooped? How high had he risen in the first place? This wasn’t normal, but then again, whatever was normal in his life?

You... heard him in ways others did not. Perhaps it was the fact that he could not hide anything from you, or maybe it was the fact that you did not judge him for some of his... darker thoughts. No, no, you never did. You never judged; you just listened, heard, watched, perhaps because there was nothing more you could do.

His thoughts, of all kinds, open and secretive, light and dark — you knew of them.

If he speaks, you listen. If he thinks, you hear. If he asks, he shall receive.

Dreams, altered memories, visions of those lost souls he wished he could mend unsaid and unfinished business with, have one last talk with. He’d never been denied an open ear or shoulder to bear his worries to by you, and that made him feel more welcome to express himself to a practical stranger, like you, rather than his friends and guardians of years.

As so, he dreams. Sometimes, he thinks that’s the right thing to do. Dreams — places where he can envision whatever he wants with no consequences. Where he can ask for anything if he’d so likes, and it will be given to him.

Every night, as he lay in bed, he drew the curtains open to let the light from the outside in. As the candles by the bedside tables are flicked off, he hopes that as he closes his eyes, he’ll see you.

He wishes to see you again. He has so many things he still has to ask, your last and first conversation ending before he could truly say, elaborate, articulate, and speak what he desired to open his mind about. You knew that Draco was up to no good; if there was someone who would listen to his intuition, he knew it would be you.

But without you in his dreams or your magic surging through him, his nightly escapades into his dreamscapes were far less grand and... comfortable for him to enjoy. Boring and unvaried scenarios playing in his head were leaden in the far bigger scheme you and him had ended playing into with your games. He felt that it did not matter who he was when you riddled him with confusing words and unravelling truths, even as he understood that they played along with what you were there for —him.

There was Harry before there was ‘The Chosen One’, but how many will remember him as just Harry if he dies at the hands of his fated enemy before he fulfils the prophecy his mother and father died as a result of? But then again, was there ever just Harry? Or had it always just been Harry Potter?

Harry Potter ‘The Boy Who Lived’; Harry Potter ‘The Boy Who Escaped Death’ when drawn against him when he was just a babe? He was the Harry Potter before he knew who he was in the eyes of many. Had he ever come to know who he was apart from who others told him? Apart from what he had been turned into? A spectacle for all to behold. A freak of nature or the result of a freak accident. No other babe in their cradle could have withstood what he had; that alone made him special, and yet Harry did not feel special. He felt exhausted.

In the end, it would not matter. All that did was that he would finish what with his survival he’d been tasked to end. His feelings never mattered because what if he just disappeared and was given the task of being the chosen one by someone else? Selfish, he was sure to be called upon many things, but at this point, Harry would not mind being selfish, even if he could not bring himself to be. All he had ever known was to save people; how could he run from what came naturally to him?

He grew up knowing he had no choice in the route his life led down. The question was, where would it end?

So young and so doomed. A boy, he was, and yet here he was contemplating his possible, perhaps imminent death. He did not want to die. No, he did not.

Afraid, that’s what he was, when the thought would rise like a wave and wash over him in the most random of moments. It would choke him out of the air he breathed and clog his throat and senses in the worst ways possible, making it so that he could not think of anything other than the images his mind conjured up.

The normalcy you provided him with cleared his mind of such troubling feelings, and when even you left him with nothing to distract himself with, he had Mrs Weasley endlessly fussing over him, Ron, Hermione and Ginny about their upcoming return to Hogwarts. Just a few days before he was set off to the place he called his own home, he got to meet an old acquaintance of his, Fleur, engaged to Bill, Ron’s brother. The same Bill that the whole family had gone to visit in Egypt just as Sirius had first broken out of Azkaban. Lovely as always, Fleur was a delight to reacquaint with; Ginny and Hermione thought otherwise, especially the latter, who could not but roll her eyes every time Ron would lose himself in his brother’s fiancee, juvenile puppy love swirling along his irises.

They were planning a wedding, or so he was told, around his birthday next year. That meant he would likely spend it at the Weasleys, and Harry could not see a better way to spend the day he was celebrated.

On the night of the 31st of August, Mrs Weasley had let everyone know that she would not have the evening go in any other way than to see everyone’s truck well filled and planted at the doorsteps within the hour of their bedtime, well-meaning into getting a good inspection out of them, always worrying if anyone had missed something on their list or if they had just not packed well enough in her opinion, which was often the case for Ron, never good at fixing his own mess.

“It’s going to get messed along the way anyways!” He argued as his mother laid his truck bare open on the living room area’s floor, her hands skimming along his strawn-together robes and books neither in order nor pilled, the lighter ones falling on everything along the surface before them.

Both Harry and Ginny stared in amusement as Hermione only shook her head at what he had chastised Ron to be the outcome of the dismissal of the warning she’d given him as he just threw everything in the trunk. Despite the assail of the evening before, the morning of the 1st had been smother than the other six years past had been. Waking up early had always been a sore, he would always complain about so, but he could very well catch on it on the train the sooner he got on it.

The Ministry cars glided up to the front of the Burrow to find them waiting, trunks packed, their personal belongings and animals delicately picked from the bunch.

But as smooth as their early morning had been, the same could not be said for the latter half of it. No cheerful Hagrid awaited them at King's Cross Station. Instead, two grim-faced Aurors dressed in Muggle suits made quick work of escorting them into the station. Harry was not fond of being manhandled up to the barrier, but so was protocol, and he only gave a sign of his displeasure on the new order of things as he reminded the man in front of him of his rather exceptional ability to be able to walk by himself, on his own two feet, something he’d mastered since he was a baby, thank god.

The scarlet Hogwarts Express stood belching before the crowd of old and new students as it did every year, steaming over them, ready for departure any minute. With one last farewell to Mrs Weasley, he hopped onto the train, followed by the others, his eyes skimming over the overcrowded compartments to find one empty for them, but he realised that such a thing would be futile when Ron and Hermione had prefect duties to fill into and that Ginny had already left to join Dean wherever he was.

People stared shamelessly as he passed, some pressing their faces against the windows of their compartments to get a better look at him. He frowned at the desperation of many, finding no reason whatsoever of why he would be the cause of such reactions — but he could not complain; it was far better than the cold reception he received upon his return last year. He supposed it was to be expected. His face had landed on every possible surface a witch or wizard could land their eyes upon, and the infamous battle he had taken part in was sure to be the cause of the upswing of gaping and gawping he would have to endure as the so-declared "Chosen One" gazettes like the Daily Prophet were spreading around.

His fame had reached an all-time high, but even then, he did not enjoy the sensation of standing in the bright spotlight he was thrown into.

He sat alone in a lonesome section of the train, yet to be filled by the overly enchanted first years wanting to explore it all and the older students in search of their friends. But the loneliness of where he had ended did not keep him company for long.

First, it was Neville, same, good, old Neville. Round-faced, a bit skirmish, and struggling his way through the hall before he stopped at the door of his compartment. They chatted a bit, caught up in each other’s summer before they were joined by, none other than, Luna. A pair of spectrespecs stood high on her head as she clutched to her a few copies of the Quibbler she’d been handing out throughout the train. Harry took one cheerily, always sharing a fodness for the magazine since he’d given them a private interview last year.

Despite her more than serene outlook, as he spoke, Luna’s attention was anywhere but on him. Instead, her eyes skirred all over the packed hall of the train as if in search of someone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked. She smiled with the same loopiness as always.

“I am. A friend, or so she insists. My roommate. You see, I was looking for her, but it was quite useless. She’s everywhere all at once; I could never hope to find her, so I wait until she comes to me,” she hummed. “She always does, after all. I envy that of her—being always able to find her way back. You know how lost I get at times.”

Harry’s brows furrowed at the vague mention of a friend from Luna. A friend? Luna wasn’t exactly sought after as a friend by others, even if he considers her one of his, very dear and understanding despite her odd nature.

“Did you change roommates?” He asks, trying to hide his curiosity but failing to do so.

“I have. After an accident at the end of last year, I’ve been allowed to share a room with the sixth-year girls. The others kind of stray to let me have space to myself, but she’s been the only one I feel like being something of a friend with.”

Oh? Well, if that is how it is, he could not question it. It made sense that Luna would feel more comfortable with an older girl, one who could understand her quirks and oddities.

Luna is simply Luna, and he appreciates her for that and he trusts her while at it. With her, there’s no need for deeper meanings or hidden intentions buried within her words — unlike a certain someone he can think of. He wondered if you were around here, with someone, in one of the many train compartments occupying your ride.

He bid both Neville and Luna farewell once Luna seemed more than eager to continue her distribution of the Quibbler, Neville proposing his help in the endeavour as they both walked away at the same time as Ron and Hermione joined him in the compartment he had made himself welcomed to.

As he asked how their roundabout of the train went, Ron passively said, “Malfoy's not doing prefect duty. ‘Sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed. Quite the sight he was”

Harry’s eyes followed Ron slumping into the seat cushion, before moving to Hermione’s in front of him.

“Unlike him, don’t you think?” He commented, a hint of sarcasm unbecoming of him laced with his words. “I’ve been telling you. That day, at Bourgins and Bourke, it was a ceremony. An initiation-“ “I know where you’re going with this, you’ve been muttering about it all week.”

Hermione’s exasperated tone overruns him, but that doesn’t stop him.

“It’s happened. He’s one of them”

“One of what?” Asks Ron, confused by the banter.

“Harry is under the impression that Draco Malfoy is now a Death Eater”, sighs Hermione as she straightens the copy of the Daily Prohpets in her hands.

“You’re barking. What would You-Know-Who want with a sod like Malfoy?” Ron is incredulous by the assumption laid before him. Harry can see it; he doesn’t believe in it at all.

“His father’s a Death Eater. It only makes sense. Besides, Hermione saw it. With her own eyes.” Insists Harry.

“I told you. I don’t know what I saw.” It’s almost like Hermione’s voice is about to rise at her last spoken words. She does not want to argue about this any longer than they’ve already had. But she’s cut off by a knock on the screen of the compartment’s door.

A third-year girl stepped forward, a scroll of parchment paper held high in her hand.

“For Harry Potter?” Her voice is uncertain as her eyes travel from Ron to Hermione and finally to him “From Professor Slugghorn”

She rushes out the moment the scroll lands in his hands. The paper is almost heavy with whatever's written on it.

He pulls at the purple ribbon holding the paper together. The silk of the string is unlike the velvety cord he pulled from your hair at the Joke shop, always nestled tight in his pocket. He seldom parted from the possession —sometimes, when in the solitariness of his own self, he would twist and turn the line of thread over and over in between his fingers. When without a pocket in hand, he would secure it around whichever wrist was free of confines, the many turns of the fabric adorning his skin like a bracelet, such as now.

The words written on paper read :

‘Dear Harry,

I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.

Sincerely, Horace.’

“Well?” He heard Ron ask as he stared at the sea of letters.

“An invitation for lunch” he tucks the letters in the back pocket of his pants as he stands from his seat, “I’ll be back in a short while. I don’t expect this to last long”

Lying was something he would not easily do unless the occasion required it of him. This was one of them. A simple, white lie meant in good riddance — and anyway, if he were to say he later got caught up in something to cover up for his abnormal absence, he would not have been lying earlier, would he?

"Good luck?" Ron says with a chuckle.

Hermione does not seem as amused as her friend is. "Be careful, will you?" she tells him, her expression worried.

Harry gives them a small nod before making his way out of the compartment and into the hall.

That’s why he had slipped the invisibility cloak right from beneath Ron and Hermione’s eyes as he walked out of the compartment, stowing it messily under his shirt, to be careful, no?

The corridors were overflowing with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley. He pushed past them despite his inability to avoid all the staring from passersby and lingering students.

He continued until the door to Compartment C stood in front of him. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for what lay beyond him, then pushed the door to the side and entered the railcar.

"Harry, m’boy!" His reception was most welcome, especially from Professor Slughorn, who made a grand show of greeting him. He stepped forward to take Harry's hand, shaking it as if they were long-lost friends reconnecting after a long time.

Stepping beside him with the old man’s hand patting his back, he was presented to the professor’s fellow guests. A lovely assembly, for sure — he was surprised to see both Ginny and Neville among the callers of this soiree.

Neville squirmed in place while Ginny looked like she didn’t know how she’d ended there, sitting at the table right beside Neville, with only an empty seat dividing the two. Beside Neville, McLaggen, of all people, sat there; the wiry-haired youth raised a hand to Harry, who nodded in turn. Marcus Belby sat in between McLaggen and Slytherin twins sisters Flora and Hestia Carrow, the youngest of the bunch, a quiet duo, not much for words. It seemed as if the girls were making Marcus as green-sick as if he were on a ship.

And then…

Slightly off the others, just beside Zabini, who sat at the other end of where Ginny did, sat you, clad in a smooth, fancy, vest dress in a dark blue with a rich, white dress shirt underneath. Peaking through the collar of your shirt was a string of pearls, the same as the ones adorning your ears.

Your eyes pierced through his with the same old intensity he had come to know them by.

He gulped down a knot castrating his airway, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding that had caught in his troath when he first landed his eyes on you.

“And here he is," Professor Slughorn boomed, clapping Harry on the back. "Our very own Harry Potter! Now, now, let me introduce you to everyone.”

But Harry heard none of it; he was far too entranced by you to be able to focus on anything else.

You smiled, but it lacked the warmth smiles usually held. It is subtle, never apparent. It is not cold but as still and firm as a painting, like brushstrokes, firm and steady, perfectly detailed the upturn of the soft, plump, rosy skin of your lips. Your eyes, as sticking and downturned as always, are endless pits he could not but lose himself in. Mirrors for his reflection to stare back at him. A gentle sort of horror, the one that haunts and remembers, that sends trill down his spine and back to the nape of his neck and makes every nerve in his body shiver.

So pleasant to those who look upon you, you appear, and through your eyes, a sweetness touches the heart that cannot be understood by those who do not feel it, except for him, because he knows, deep down, that it’s reserved only for him. A beauty that appeals only to the withered eastern lilies and white bellflowers, dry and gone but begrudging in their demise. One that resembles the edge of a sharp knife, myrrh on wrists and wood — beams of moonlight protruding through the trees of a forest, which he gazes up at as he lies in the vastness of the wastelands that is the ground. Damned, knowing he is damned, but living still, prevailing through the doom. Magdalenian, divine and... sad.

There was a sadness in your expression, a profound melancholy that spoke of a heartache too severe to be named. It was as if you had seen too much, known too much, and carried the weight of the world on your shoulders. It mesmerised him, like an inexplicable pull that he couldn't resist. He was drawn to the rawness of your pain.

Prophet girl,

Chosen by the moon,

Did you cry when the gods whispered words of solemn stardust in your ears?

It was a feeling he was all too familiar with, but it still had the power to make his skin tingle and his heart beat just a little faster.

He tried to maintain his composure, to act as if nothing was amiss, but his palms were becoming clammy and his heart was thundering in his ears, but it was futile. Once you’d caught his gaze, you held it until it hurt.

“And, of course, here we have, Miss Y/N Gaunt!” introduced Slugghorn once he arrived where you sat. “A fine addition to this gathering, if I do say so myself.”

So, that was your name, the thing he’d been chasing for a month on end. He had never heard of anyone with the name “Gaunt”. He tried to school his features, hoping to hide his confusion, as he watched Professor Slughorn gesture towards you. Despite this, It seemed to ring a bell, but he couldn't quite place it. He had a face, a name, and a person to which to look in time and space, and yet he could never place you anywhere. He tried to recall if he had ever read the name before, but nothing stood out in his mind.

“Such a pity your brother could not join us, Miss Gaunt,”, said Slugghorn “but so generous of him to send us Mr Zabini in his steed. Ah, but alas, I understand, prefect duties, we all must do our part for this school, no?”

Harry couldn't help but notice the change in your expression as Professor Slughorn mentioned your brother. There was a subtle shift in your gaze, a hardening of your features. It was brief, but it was enough for him to pick up on it.

"Of course, professor" Your voice was light, unconfrontational and agreeable as you spoke, but void and empty as if you were agreeing for the sake of agreeing, not really because you agreed with Slugghorn. But despite how captivating it was, there was something a bit unnerving about it as well. It was almost too polite, too agreeable. It lacked any sort of emotion or enthusiasm, and it felt like you were just going through the motions.

“We all have our part to play,” you added, and the word struck him to his very core. And in a moment, he was transported back to that moment in the forest. The memory as vivid as the rays of sunlight coming in the window beside you — he felt it — the cool night air against his skin and the dampness of the forest ground filling his nose. It was as if you had just spoken those words to him once more.

He found himself unable to respond, his mouth suddenly dry and his mind racing. He could only stare at you, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Indeed", agreed Harry, voice choked on the edge. Slugghorn looked between you two, trying to decipher the edge that laced the shared moment. A beat, then -

"Well now, this is most pleasant," said Slughorn cosily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on liquorice wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things... Pheasant, Belby?”

The boy looked pale, Harry now realised, as Marcus took what looked like half a pheasant. He was eagerly moved to sit between Neville and Ginny, the latter sending him a furrowed look, which he dismissed.

Slugghorn set on about talking of each most prominent trait or fact he could find about his guests. Marcus’ uncle, Cormac’s uncle, Zabini’s mother, the twin’s family prestige and so on and on and on he went.

It was as Dumbledore had said and as he had come to understand on their first meeting. Everyone here seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential. Neville didn’t fare too well under Slugghorn’s interrogation, and by the end of it, Harry had the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgment on Neville, yet to see whether he had any of his parents' flair and place in the world.

He noticed that you didn't seem to be offering much in terms of conversation, but you were following and listening intently to what the others were saying, unlike him who had grown restless and rather annoyed by the professor’s interest in slithering his way into the secret of each of them.

“Of course, I don’t have to spare introductions between you and me, Miss Gaunt” teased Slugghorn, all too excitedly. "Of course not," Professor Slughorn continued, "Miss Gaunt is sure to become one of my brightest.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at Professor Slughorn's enthusiasm. He knew that the professor was known for his preference for ambitious students, but this seemed just a little excessive and he couldn’t help but frown at the familiar nature the professor seemed to share with you and your family.

“my father would be pleased to hear you say so, professor," you said, with the same monotony as always, but it was neither passive nor annoyed. It is a calm and rather natural kind, one you seem to wear like a second sleeve — a stark contrast to the warmth and enthusiasm that Slughorn was displaying.

"your father, of course! Dear Abelar, I always knew he was destined for great things. I expected nothing more than for his children to follow in his footsteps," exclaims Slugghorn, bumping his leg up the table ever so slightly it made everything on the surface tremble. Ginny and he readied to stabilise their cups filled with pumpkin juice.

He bristled at Slughorn's words. It was one thing to be placed on a pedestal for a legacy one shared with someone; expecting you to live up to your father's legacy was another. He had seen firsthand how such expectations could weigh heavily on someone's shoulders. He wondered if the professor was being sincere or merely pandering to you. Nevertheless, the sympathy coursing through him for you was very much real. The way he spoke of your father was certainly over the top. He stole a glance, just with the tail of his eye, but then again, he didn't expect to see anything but the same impassiveness as ever. Of course, you would be, it was your father they were talking about, he was you knew best what Slugghorn was talking about. What he was most curious about was the fact that now, he could place another piece to the puzzle he’d been building in his head. Perhaps it had been his fault that he’d not asked more of the man he’d seen conversing with Narcissa just before the whole fiasco with Draco blew in their faces. But you were the daughter of the man who had deserted the order in exchange for a life far away from the reach of the dark lord.

You were Sirius’ cousin. He realized. Or something like that…

That explains the resemblance, he mused inwardly. But your demeanour was the complete opposite of Sirius’s. He was loud, impulsive, rash, and quick to emotion, especially anger, while you were calm, aloof, and composed, almost cold, your face betraying nothing. It was like night and day.

"Ah, so you see, I had the pleasure of teaching Y/N's father" said Slughorn as he chews on a roll "I might say, perhaps the best of the best I've had the pleasure of teaching. Sad to say, he seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth! I was hoping to catch his eye this morning but it seems he didn't accompany you and your brother?”

“My father is a busy man” you explained, as simply as that “but he’s aware just how hard you've been trying to contact him, professor, so he's asked me to send you his regards”

"Oh, of course, of course, how kind of him" Looking rather pleased with himself, Slughorn continues "Tell me, my dear, what is he up to these days? Last I heard, he was in Albania.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on your face, Harry noticed with curiosity. “still there. He’s gotten rather invested in the magical creatures found within the Albanian forest, doing some research as always.” You took what seemed like a dainty bite from your roll, chewing slowly and in silence for some moments before adding, "he’s doing fine, though”

Slughorn nodded, slightly confused and…nervous, almost guarded, as if he knew something about your father that he wasn't sharing "Well, who would have thought that of him”

“he’s always been a curious soul, my father, as I’m sure you know,” you took the cup in front of you “Always been an enthusiast of the less common creatures," you said, with a hint of a smile in your voice, as you took a sip from your juice, looking across the table as if you were searching something - or someone. Your gaze met his, and he looked away quickly. "I’m sure he’s discovered all sorts of things about the forest; it is a very untamed place.”

There was a fondness in your voice that betrayed your otherwise indifferent tone. He wondered what Abelar Gaunt was like as a father. Had he helped build that strong exterior you so easily hid behind, or had it been the result of a childhood lived in solitude? And if you loved him, then what about your brother? Harry shook himself, trying to focus on the conversation at hand rather than the questions swirling in his head.

“Oh, yes, untamed, alright’” Slughorn nodded along his word, but anyone could see he was eager to change the topic of the discussion. He meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence of his prime as a professor and how eager he was to teach once more so many prominent and able students like them.

He was growing tired, if he may say so himself, all this talking and waste of time was truly getting to him, and he could see from the others that he was not alone in his sentiment. Except for you, who continued to indulge blissfully and unawarely in the food in front of you, ever so slowly raising a bit of your choosing to your lips.

The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the "Slug Club" at Hogwarts. Harry could not wait to leave, but couldn't see how to do so politely. Finally, the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight.

"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on dog tails. Harry, Blaise ... any time you're passing. Same goes for you, miss," he twinkled at Ginny. “And Miss Gaunt, do tell your brother I want him there for our next meeting. No compromises! Well, off you go, off you go!"

Harry was one of the first to rise and almost ran to the compartment door - and then remembered that he was supposed to wait for everyone to leave so that he could, well, sneak off without being noticed. He cursed himself and tried to make the best of waiting for everyone to go first as he stood by the side of the door outside, as everyone passed him, his muscles itching to move.

But then, he heard a pair of soft footsteps behind him. He didn’t have to turn to know it was you. You closed the door behind you with one last goodbye to Professor Slughorn before you turned to him, the quiet and silence of the hall making this all the more….intimate.

Your expression was unchanged, but there was something in the way you looked at him - no, through him - that made his skin tingle momentarily.

“Be careful” you say, as soft as a whisper “he’s scared and watching all the time”

"how do you know?" he muttered back, his fingers clenching and unclenching involuntarily.

You smiled the same as you had before, your eyes wandering all over his face until they landed on the ceiling as if you could see beyond it. "How would I not know?"

He swallowed dry, racking his brain for a response, but his mind came up blank, as white and empty as paper. Instead, he stared back, as if trying to decipher the riddle behind your words.

"Right," he responded weakly. "Stupid question."

you hummed "I'd think not”

He felt the edge of his lips turn ever so slightly upward. He might have found comfort in your words if he weren't so unsettled by your gaze or…wording.

"You seem to know a lot," he said, his voice quiet. "Too much, if you ask me." he breathed in "I'm...glad to see you....somewhere that's not my head”

The words had slipped out before he could stop himself. He felt the blood rush to his face, his checks coming alight, and he closed his mouth as If that could take his words back but it was far too late. He braced himself for your reaction, hoping you hadn't heard the double meaning he had only just realized himself.

“As am I” you breathed gently, and for a moment, it was like he was dreaming again. Your breath fanned his face, and his nose whiffed with the scent of vanilla and candescence coming from your hair.

You sounded sincere, and a part of Harry hoped you were. He wanted it to be, needed it.

"You...you are?" he found himself asking, his voice low and hesitant.

You hummed once more and nodded along. Your simple gesture of acknowledgement was like a small flame of hope that flickered within him. He wanted to say more, to ask you more questions, but he felt strangely tongue-tied.

"Is it...?" he started "Why-" he found himself pausing, feeling a lump in his throat “Never mind.”

He cursed himself inwardly, feeling foolish. This wasn't how he wanted to present himself in front of you. He should be confident and suave, not stuttering like an idiot. But you disarmed him, made his walls come down, leaving him vulnerable.

Maybe that’s how you liked him…

He took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. "how do you know where I'm going?

“I saw it” you only said "You'll get hurt, be careful. But..don’t worry I'll come back to get you"

He certainly did hope that you would come back to get him since he couldn’t move a muscle, and the train would soon leave to return to London. He’ll be damned if he didn’t get his comeback for this. The Invisibility Cloak he laid under hid him from the bare eye, and perhaps, maybe, it was for the better with the way his face must have looked now. The blood seeping from his nose flowed, hot and wet, down his nose and over his lips, throbbing and pulsing heavily with each breath.

He didn’t know for how long he’d been lying there, but gosh, did he hope someone would just notice how long he’d been gone. Ron and Hermione would think that he had left the train without them. Once they arrived at Hogwarts and took their places in the Great Hall, looked up and down the Gryffindor table a few times, and finally realized that he was not there, he, no doubt, would be halfway back to London.

He just wanted to prove his suspicions right, was it so wrong of him? He always chanted in his head that the end would justify the means — he didn’t know if to regret it now.

His head was pounding from the adrenaline, but most of all, from the kick that little blonde git had thrown at him.

He’d never hated Malfoy more than as he lay there, like an absurd turtle on its back, blood dripping sickeningly into his open mouth. What a stupid situation to have landed himself in... and now the last few footsteps were dying away; everyone was shuffling along the dark platform outside he thought himself doomed.

Until he wasn’t. The cloak had been pulled from him, and there again, true to your words, stood you. And for a moment, he could move once more. Like a fish out of water, he breathed hard, trying to open his lungs to the not-so-fresh air of the compartment. He tried to stand, but you placed a hand on his chest as you knelt before him, pushing him back down.

“I told you to be careful, didn’t I?”

He wanted to snap at you, to tell you that it was no fault of his that he'd ended up in this position.

But you had warned him. You'd warned him, and he had been too stubborn to listen. That, and maybe a bit too intrigued by you.

He tried to speak, but his voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

"Yeah," he groaned, wincing as pain shot through his head. "You did.”

"where else are you hurt?" your eyes scanned over his blood-soaked face, trying to see if he'd been inflicted any more damage.

"Just my face," he muttered. "I think my nose is broken."

He reached up to touch his face, but you batted his hand away, surprising him. You gently placed your own hand on his cheek, and he couldn't help but shiver at the contact of your warm skin on his cold one.

“You blasted fool” you whispered “he didn’t know you were only bluffing”

"Yeah, well, I couldn't just do nothing", he grumbled, looking away from your intense gaze. He knew he’d been foolish, but his anger and frustration at Malfoy had gotten the best of him. He didn't want to admit it, but he too was disappointed in himself for his recklessness.

"I was sure he was up to something" he muttered. "I just had to find out what.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words, a small disapproving look in your eyes.

"But at what cost, Harry?" you asked quietly. "Look at you now."

His cheeks burned with embarrassment, but not at the fact that you were right, but rather, at the way you’d said his name. So different coming from you, it rolled in a way that was so pleasant to the ear it could send waves of pleasure through him., his chest twisting in just the right way.

"Come," you said "we must get off before the train leaves”

He nodded, feeling a twinge of pain coursing through him as he tried to sit up. His head was spinning, but he gritted his teeth, pushed on, and did as you said. With your help, he managed to get to his feet, if unsteady and wobbly.

"I can walk" he protested weakly, as you put a hand under his arm to support him.

“Just let me help you”

Help. Harry never often asked for help. Most times, it was people asking Harry for help, not the other way around. And yet, he didn't protest as you took his arm in yours, clutching it in between your hands. Instead, he almost melted into your touch.

You held him tightly, keeping him upright.

"Easy," you murmured.

He let out a shaky breath, grateful for your steadying presence.

“It’s rotten work”

“Not to me” you argued, “Not if it’s you”

The castle glitters as you two finally arrive at the front steps, where the gates limit the access to the school grounds. Harry, face blood-spattered, nose slightly off-centre, has now steadied himself on his feet but hasn’t said a word about the feel returning to his legs, as he embraces his arm with yours, fingers silently intertwined with the others.

“I’m sorry I made you miss the carriage” he murmurs as he daps at his nose with the handkerchief you’d given him with his free hand.

“It’s alright”, you smile faintly “I’m very fond of walking. Especially when in good company"

He smiled in turn, feeling a strange flutter of warmth in his chest. He had never been in this position before - walking arm-in-arm with a girl, and he found himself strangely comfortable with the situation.

"I'm glad..." he muttered, still dabbing at his bloody nose. "That you like walking, I mean.”

“Sure,” you said “Perhaps you could join me for some time,” you said, passively, as if you'd not given your words a second thought, as you always did, it seems.

Harry's heart skipped a beat at your words. The thought of walking with you - just the two of you - filled him with anticipation and nervousness. Although, he couldn't help but feel a small bubble of excitement at the prospect.

"I'd...I'd like that" he replied, trying to sound casual, although he was sure his voice had betrayed him.

"We have much to talk about, you and I, don't you think?" you tilted your head as you turned to look at him.

"Yes," he replied quietly. "I think we do.”

Just then Professor Flitwick rushes forth clutching a long roll of parchment bearing all students’ names, finger pointed and tone inquisitive.

“About time! I’ve been looking all over for you two. Names.”

Harry turns to look at you for a moment before saying “Professor, you’ve known me for five years”

“No exceptions, Potter!” He then turns to you “And you, Gaunt, you were lucky we didn’t have to perform tonight. The disaster it would have been without you in the choir. Can you imagine?!”

Harry stifled a chuckle as Professor Flitwick chastised you. He was surprised to hear that you were part of the choir, but it made sense given your penchant for singing.

"I can only imagine," he said dryly, suppressing a grin, which garnered him a look from you as if you were asking him not to encourage the man.

"Forgive me, professor. It will not happen again" You sounded apologetic, if not, that your face said otherwise, or rather, nothing at all. You looked past the little man, or just...looked ahead "Who are those people?”

Harry turns and sees you staring into the darkness, where shadows drift eerily like ghosts.

“Aurors. For security.” Responds Flitwick in chill distaste.

A voice not far ahead catches the attention of the three of you. Draco, standing amidst a mountain of trunks, owl cages and other animals alike, eyes Filch intently as he passes a long security detector over a…stick.

“It’s not a cane, you cretin. It’s a walking stick!” Just as things seem to tense between student and caretaker, out of the shadows emerges Snape, coming to Draco’s defence.

Snape watches Malfoy carefully wrap the stick in felt and lay it back inside his trunk.

“I’ll vouch for Mr Malfoy” simple words from a simple man, but Harry knows the implications of those words are not simple at all. If he’s vouching for a walking stick, he cannot imagine what he’ll have to vouch for in the coming school year.

Draco eyes Snape warily again, then begins to slouch off, catching you two staring at him.

“Nice face, Potter” he comments smugly before he turns to you, eyeing you wearily “Cousin” he sneers, a mix of emotions underlying the title he used to address you before he turns his back to walk away.

His blood boiled at Malfoy's words. He’d opened his mouth, about to say something in rebuttal, when he felt a hand on his arm restraining him. He looked over to see you shaking your head slightly, silently telling him to let it go.

He wanted to argue, but the pleading look in your eyes made him hold his tongue.

“Cousin, huh?” He asked dry sarcasm in his tone.

“It’s a long story”

Harry felt like there was always a long story with you. He wanted to know more, but before he could ask, Professor Flitwick cleared his throat.

"Alright, everyone to the castle, chop-chop.” He said “And, Miss Gaunt? Your friend Lovegood is waiting for you on the way. She’s got your bag.”

You nodded and gave him a soft "thank you”

Luna, good old Luna, was indeed not waiting far from the gate, with your bag in hand. She smiled and greeted him as if they had not talked last on the train before it journeyed to Hogwarts.

“Whatever happened to your nose? Nasty thing, if you ask me”

Harry chuckled despite himself. Luna's blunt honesty was always a breath of fresh air. "Yeah, it is a nasty thing" he agreed, gingerly touching his nose. "Got a friendly greeting from Malfoy.”

"Fix it for him, will you, Luna?" you asked as you dabbed with the handkerchief his nose, even as he gently prodded you off.

Harry felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, as Luna took out her wand.

“I’ve learned a few spells, you know” she mentioned off-handedly, flicking her wand at his face “Episkey.”

Harry felt the bones of his nose realigning, but the pain still lingered. He groaned out before releasing a little breath “Thanks, Luna,” he muttered, giving her a grateful smile.

Reluctantly, he turned to you and asked "How...do I look?”

You took a few steps closer to him, tilting your head slightly to examine your and Luna's work. “perfect,” you said decisively.

Harry felt his heart skip a beat at your words. "perfect" he repeated softly, his cheeks feeling warm.

He couldn't help but feel like the adjective wasn't just referring to his nose.

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thekims4 · 2 years ago

Text

School Uniform Lookbook #3

Hair 1, 2, 3, 4 / Skin 1, 2, 3 / Eyebrows / Eyes / Eyelids / Eyeliner / Blush / Lips 1, 2

Clothing

Generation Suit Outfit @rimings

Autumn School Uniform @rimings

Prestigious Highschool Uniform @rimings

Ditto School Uniform @hotswe-sims

Preppy Look Outfit @eunosims

Preppy Cardigan @gorillax3-cc

Kathy Mini Skirt @belaloallure3

Acc

Lovely Pattend Knit Hairband @rimings

OLD GIFT BOX 6 Beret @rimings

Morina Hoop Earring Trio @pralinesims

Simple Hoops Earrings @suzuesims

Summer Poison Square Earring @rimings

Spring Casual Outfit Set Necklace @rimings

Motive Rings @christopher067

Alexander McQueen Short Story Bag @bergdorfverse

Hermes Birkin Bag Scarf Charm @bergdorfverse

School Backpack @rimings

Valentino Roman Stud Handbag @bergdorfverse

Littlegood Mary Janes Leg Warmers @charonlee

Rib Long Socks @charonlee

Shoes

Shoes Pack 36 @arltos

Shoes Pack 47 @arltos

Shoes Pack 49 @arltos

Pose

Catsblob @helgatisha

#thekims4 2023 #ts4 high school years #sims 4 cas #ccfinds #sims 4 lookbook #ts4 lookbook #ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4cc #simblr #sims4mm #sims 4 download #the sims 4 cc #sims 4 custom content #the sims community

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jihyoruri · 2 years ago

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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 CARDIGAN, AUGUST AND BETTY kim minji x reader x nakamura kazuha

❨ .˳⁺⁎˚ ﹏ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ﹋ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ❩˖ ᯽. the hopeless romantic

“im so sorry for your loss- s.c”

#✿! . . . group!- new jeans (hybe labels-ador).

#✿! . . . birthday!- n/a.n/a.2004

#✿! . . . mtbi!- ENFJ

#✿! . . . relationship status!- complicated

#✿! . . . family!- mom, dad, older sister(wow!yn)

#✿! . . . traits!- sensitive, easy to manipulate, bubbly, hopeless romantic, emotional

#✿! . . . close friends!- olivia rodrigo, yuna (Itzy), liz (ive), sullyoon (nmixx), conan gray

#✿! . . . brand endorsements!- miumiu, chanel jewelry and makeup, converse

#✿! . . . fav artists!- taylor swift, sabrina carpenter, beabadoobee, faye webster, the cardigans, tame impala

#✿! . . . writing credits! - cool with you, attention, ditto, get up

#✿! . . . songs that describe her!- august(taylor swift), I know you (faye webster), lacy (olivia rodrigo),cinnamon girl(lana del ray) play date( melanie martinez), cake (melanie martinez), lovefool( the cardigans)

#✿! . . . fav movies!- 10 things I hate about you, clueless, 500 days of summer, flipped

#✿! . . . biggest dream!- to be kissed in the rain

#✿! . . . most cherished possessions!- her dirty converse and folklore necklace, speak now and folklore cardigan, a prop she stole from the bad idea right? mv set (yes she was in mv), her tatbilb book set, her walkman

#nwjns!yn #sneak peek/ introduction to nwjns!yn

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yjdrabbles123 · 2 months ago

Note

YJs view on pacis, and pull ups

Tai & Van: Don’t use either- they never feel that young- but are supportive of anyone who needs them. Shauna, Gen, Mari: Officially ditto but are both more likely to have moments of mild ‘Aw that looks really comforting but obviously I am Too Old for that.’ Out of the three of them, Mari is the most likely to have an accident but would also be the most outraged at even a hinted suggestion that she wear a pullup bc she is Grown Up. She’s not the only one of the three to suck her thumb either but she’s the most embarrassed about it/likely to lash out when denying it. Lottie, Jackie, Nat, Mel: Regress to different ages but all sometimes need pullups for bedwetting. For Nat, the bedwetting is something that is specifically linked to her childhood trauma and not really anything to do with feeling smaller but obviously it doesn’t help: if she has a bedwetting accident, it’s a big trigger for feeling smaller. For Mel, it’s also been an all-her-life thing but it’s not trauma based, just something that happens. She struggles with most with daytime accidents and is the most likely to wear a pullup during the day if she’s very anxious about a public accident (Jackie will very occasionally do so too but it must Never Ever be acknowledged). Mel is ironically more likely to stay dry if she’s protected bc she’s less anxious about it. Jackie….not so much. For Lottie, it’s off and on: sometimes she’s struggling with it and sometimes she can go months and be fine. She sometimes uses a pacifier. Jackie doesnt but has a chewing stim necklace which she;ll sometimes suck on, although she’s more likely to suck her thumb.

Thank you for the ask!

#yellowjackets agere

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spookychick78 · 2 years ago

Text

Chucky One Shot: Request

Chucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, language, (Jade's outfit is different from the movie for ✨dramatic effect✨) and oh, captives? Anyway, let's get into it.

Word Count: 2756

"Jesus, (y/n). How many times to I have to fuckin' explain this, just-," he paused mid sentence with his rubber, or plastic, you'd never quite figured out what material you were both made of at this point, but nonetheless, his hand rested on his forehead with a frustrated sigh, "you're just gonna repeat after me, got it?"

Your captives were bound, lying flat on their backs with their eyes wide. Muffled pleas flew endlessly from their gagged mouths as they struggled desperately to find a way out of the present situation. It was quite impressive, you had to admit, that Chucky, who was no more than two, maybe three feet tall at most, had managed to reduce two fully grown adults to such a state. You'd never say it aloud, his ego didn't require further stroking at this point, he knew very well he was beyond good at what he did. In fact, he'd gotten you both there, all the way to Hackensack's darkened and if you being honest, unsettling graveyard with less struggle than you'd expected. The wind whipped past the two of you, nearly knocking you off of your plastic feet as you stood atop your soon to be new body with a frown. You weren't quite sure if it was pity you felt as you studied Jade's furrowed brows and bloodshot eyes, though perhaps it should have been, it was uncertainty. Specifically about whether or not you wanted to be her, well, be in her body.

"Isn't there anyone else we could find to do this?" You asked, spurring on another disgruntled sound out of your partner.

"You've got to be kiddin' me," Chucky muttered as his grip tightened around the necklace with the oversized rhomboidal amulet hanging from the chain, "is that really why you're being such a pain in the ass? Looks?"

Jade was pretty, in the traditional sense, but in your opinion such childlike features would be difficult to acclimate to. You tried to picture adorning her body in black, deep reds, your usual gothic attire and cringed. She was nothing compared to the body he'd destroyed, your body.

"Pardon me for wanting a little more class," you muttered back, earning another muffled yell from below you, "something I'm sure you've never heard of."

His artificial features contorted to form an incredulous expression as he shook his head, "You know, I'm starting to think you want me to kill you and don't think it hasn't crossed my mind to."

"Ditto, babe," you replied with a smirk, "it would only be fair."

"Look, can we save the threats until we can make good on them in real bodies? Let's just get this over with," he retorted as he situated himself between Jesse and Jade, "then I'll really give you something to bitch about."

You hopped off with a huff and folded your dwarfed arms, or tried to. They were just short enough to make such a simple movement tedious. Perhaps you could get used to such plain looks of it meant you'd have the freedom of actual limbs again.

"Ade due Damballa. Give me the power I beg of you," he began with his arms outstretched and an exaggerated tone.

You allowed yourself a brief glance around as he continued, finally reaching parts of the chant you'd never heard before. Usually, some interruption or another would halt him, but not this night. He'd made it far enough to render their eyes shut, their pleas silenced and their bodies still. It was actually working. You felt your heart rate quicken as words continued to spill from his mouth and you drew closer to your new form. You felt it, you were melding with her. For a brief moment her memories, her experiences clouded your vision in such quick succession it gave you whiplash. Then, everything went silent and your vision vanished as a pale white that seemed to grow brighter, more intense with each passing second overcame you until it turned black. With the darkness came feeling, a subtle tingle that pricked at the tips of your fingers and toes. The sensation spread and tingling soon turned to a strange, throbbing warmth. You tested it, eyes still consumed by shadows, but movement came surprisingly easy. You felt your arm raise, it was longer than before and when you rested your hand on your face you felt the almost forgotten, but easily remembered texture of flesh. You furrowed your brow and let out a groan as you tried to rid yourself of the fog that filled your new head.

"Holy shit," you heard beside you.

As you began to blink your eyes open, you felt him shoot up. Vision came slow, but eventually the haze lifted and you found it within your ability to sit up. Your legs were the first thing you observed and from that particular angle, you had to admit you were quite pleased with them. They were long with silky smooth skin. Skin you thought to yourself as you let your hand wander down your knee. You'd gotten so used to the hardened structure you'd been for what seemed like ages you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to touch yourself and really feel it. Finally, you lifted your head to see Chucky was doing the same with a baffled smile on his face.

"It worked," he said with a laugh as he stretched his arms out and shook his head in awe, "it actually fuckin' worked!"

Before, you hadn't been sure if Jesse's body would suit Chucky. He was so boyish, the all American type, which was so uncharacteristic for the man you'd known before the doll, but as you studied him then, it worked. It was deceiving, you'd never think he'd be capable of committing the crimes he'd grown so addicted to if you looked at that sweet face under those tousled brown curls, but it really worked. He started to undo his belt, which made you chuckle, you weren't quite sure what he was doing, but it wasn't long until you put two and two together. He pulled the fabric outwards as he lowered his head to study within them.

"Oh, you're gonna love this," he said with a proud nod, "kid was packin'."

"Right, cause you would know," you said with quick wit and a smirk, "what do you have to compare it to, Ken?"

"Hey, we both know I made a pretty good Ken," he said before he finally looked up at you.

His brows raised when he noticed you were still on the ground, legs just slightly tilted to the side with your hands on the behind you to keep yourself upright. Jade had been wearing a white dress that night and it's fabric had been blown by the wind to steadily climb further up your thighs.

"If I'm bein' honest, you look more like Barbie now, doll," he said as he sauntered closer to you.

You quickly replaced the edge of the dress to cover yourself, "Don't even start, Charles. You threatened kill me again not even ten minutes ago."

He lowered himself to the ground just a few feet in front of you and began to crawl closer as he spoke, "Oh, that? Come on, you know me (y/n). I'm all threats, I only bite if you ask nicely or piss me off."

"Well, I'm not asking," you said as his hand found your foot and steadily brushed its way upwards.

You wanted to deny him, he deserved it, but you weren't sure if you could deny yourself, that was the problem. His skin on yours, though it was just a small fraction of his body, felt heavenly. It had been so long since you'd felt human touch that when he bent your leg forward to rest his check against the inside of your knee, an internal throb forced you to further doubt your ability to say no.

"No," he whispered as he started to press his lips to your bare skin, "but you did piss me off."

He bit down then, not enough to hurt, but enough to make that thrum between your legs more prominent. You quickly extended your leg and pressed your foot to the center of his chest, barring him from touching you momentarily and he let out a wicked chuckle.

"I'm not buyin' it, (y/n). You can't tell me you don't wanna test these out," he said as he pushed your leg aside and forced both open this time, "besides, you've never been difficult to convince."

"Shut up," you snapped, but your eyes gave you away as they dipped to his new pair of lips that were curved into a devilish grin and parted just enough to display a row of pristinely white teeth.

"Make me," he said as he lowered his head, careful to keep his eyes on yours so he could watch you relent, "or I'll make you."

The wind betrayed you and blew your dress up again, granting him access to your core, which he wasted no time in drawing closer to. You felt his breath, hot and inviting, billow between the soft flesh of your thighs as one of his hands squeezed your hip. He observed the modest white panties hidden underneath with a laugh.

"Real cute, (y/n)," he said as he reached for the knife beside his former body, "but these aren't really your style, are they?"

He was quick to cut them, tossing the ruined fabric to the side and leaving you exposed to the elements. It was cold, but not for long. His mouth returned and with it, warmth that had you melting as you grit your teeth begrudgingly and gave in. Your head fell back when you felt his tongue glide up the inside of your thigh, tormenting you with your own want. His teeth soon followed as he resumed his nipping in an attempt to make you whine, which worked better than you hoped.

"Oh, for fucks sake," you breathed out with desperation.

His laughter only confirmed that was exactly what he wanted, "That doesn't sound like a no anymore."

"You know it's not," you said as you tensed under his tight grip on your thigh and tried to push yourself up to meet his mouth.

He hummed against your skin then, forcing another whine from you when the vibrations almost gave you needed, but not quite, "Yeah, I know, but you haven't asked nicely."

"Charles, please."

"Eh, I don't know. I don't think you deserve it," he said as he hovered torturously over where you wanted him, allowing his lips to just barely graze the soft flesh with each word he uttered, "maybe I should let you suffer the consequences of being such a brat."

You whipped your head back up and the desperation on your face only served to satisfy him, "You'd only be teasing yourself and you know it," you spat down at him in a weak attempt to get what your way.

"Maybe, but I'm sure there's plenty of chicks who'd be down for the cause with this guy," he said smugly.

"Fuck you," you said with narrowed eyes before you went to push yourself up.

Chucky, however, made sure you stayed in place. With both arms, he pulled you inwards by your legs, which forced you flat on your back. Your head hit the ground with a thud and in an instant, he was on top of you.

"Did I say you could get up?"

His eyes were darker now, threatening, but your body continued to betray you as you looked up at him. Desperate had become an understatement as you took note of the way he was pressed against you. From what you could tell, he hadn't been wrong about what was hidden inside of those jeans and it made you squirm.

"Now," he started as his fingers found rest between the two of you to toy with your entrance, "I said ask nicely."

You felt his thumb settle right where you wanted it, but it remained still. He wouldn't dare grant you the satisfaction of friction so soon. Instead, he left it motionless as he inched his index and middle finger inside of you, painfully slow. You wanted to curse him when he laughed again, amused by how wet you were.

"Normally, I'd count that, but I wanna hear you say it," he said as he dug in deeper, "how badly do you want me to fuck you?"

"I need you to," you whined pitifully as your back arched into his stiff fingers in search of relief.

"I can tell," he said as he abruptly shoved them as deep as they could go, "but, go on."

A moan escaped you as your head dug into the grass below you due to how severely your neck was arched, "Please, whatever you want me to say, do, I don't care. I'll do it, just please."

"I kinda wanna do this all night and we both know I could," he said as he watched you, intrigued as he tested your limits.

No matter how subtle the movement, he got a reaction for each one. He stared hungrily as he listened to your breath quicken, but your expression wasn't nearly pained enough. That was the deciding factor for Chucky, it was all the incentive he needed to hook his fingers upwards and massage that spot that ached for solace.

"Much better," he said when your brows furrowed and your mouth hung open further to silently plead for more.

But just as he started to find a forgiving rhythm, he withdrew, leaving you with an emptiness that could have brought tears to your eyes. Words of protest had just begun to leave your mouth before he tugged you forward again, this time filling you when your bare skin met his. Some foul words left his when he took note of how tight you were with furrowed brows of his own.

"You're lucky it ain't my first time," he teased before he lent down to press a sloppy kiss to your open mouth, "cause fuck, that's a tight fit."

His hand stayed firm on your jaw, holding you in place as he rocked into you and in your legs, in turn, tightened around his waist.

"Now, where was I," he said before he slipped his fingers back into place to rub circles over that poor little nub as he took what he wanted, thrust after thrust.

He had you spinning by then, so wound up it wasn't funny and it didn't take him long to bring you to the edge. He'd practically had you there with his fingers alone, but this was far better than you could have expected. You arms dangled loosely around his neck, hands grappling for purchase, but at his pace you found none. You settled to cling to his free arm that held him up, digging your nails into it as your body clenched tighter around him. You were right there and more than fearful he'd deny you a release given how the entire ordeal started, so you didn't hesitate to beg in advance.

"Please, don't stop," you cried out, clinging to him as you lingered on the edge, ready to jump, "don't you dare stop."

"Stop?"

"No," you said quickly, tightening your legs around him further, "don't."

His breath had grown ragged and despite his teasing, you could tell stopping wasn't a thought in his mind.

"Only cause," he stuttered as his hips began to lose there even pace, "you asked so-"

He leant his head back in an attempt to stifle a moan of his own, but thankfully it escaped, filling your ears with bliss, "nicely," he finished huskily.

That sound of his strained voice had you careening over that edge you'd found and he followed suit, rocking himself through his own high as he let himself spill into you. A slew of curses left his mouth as lewd cries escaped your own and your body went limp. Your hand, that had drawn blood from his arm with your nails, fell stiff on the ground beside you once he finally ceased his movements. He hovered over you, head hung as his shoulders trembled with labored breath.

"Shit," you heard him breath out before he lifted his gaze back to your own, "how was that for a test drive?"

By the look of your sweat laced face, flushed with lidded eyes, he nodded his head, satisfied. And you, well, he didn't leave you hanging, that was for sure.

#chucky #bride of chucky #charles lee ray #slasher #slasher fandom #horror #horror fiction #slasher fanfiction #horror fan #horror fanfiction #slasher x reader #slasher smut #slasherfic #slashers #slasher oneshot #slasher fucker

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sachermorte · 5 months ago

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I was handed an excuse for fashion talk so i'd like your top 10 accessories please!

My favorite categories of accessories or my personal top 10? I thought it would be fun to do the second, but if you really want the first, let me know.

In no particular order.

1. One of the first ties I thrifted. Apparently from the Knights of Malta? Have to be careful with how I style it because it is a tiny bit faschocore.

2. Wien Wappen ring. Very exciting and treasured find. When people ask where I got it I tell them I won it off of Häupl in a card game.

3. Wien skyline ring. I had been pinning skyline rings for months before I found this in a shop and it felt like fate. It's one of the pieces of jewelry I only take off to shower.

4. 5€ clip on earrings found at Flohmarkt Karlsplatz. I love how they look like little broken heart shields.

5. Taxidermied weasel head on a pendant, found at Flohmarkt Schwedenplatz. I managed to talk the dude down from 30€ to 17€. I don't wear him very often but I'm really fond of him.

6. Beckett Star purchased at Canterbury cathedral, a reproduction of a brooch that people would wear after completing their pilgrimage.

7. Random Russian brooch. Reads "Historical Museum". It stabbed me in a thrift store enough to draw blood so I took it home with me.

8. One of the older pieces of jewelry I own. Unglazed pottery featuring a line from a self-aggrandizing poem penned by King Shulgi of Ur. Cuneiform reads "I have been a hero since birth".

9. Ammonite necklace. Difficult to wear because it was a gift from my ex fiancé, but it's too nice to get rid of. Trying to summon the stomach to start wearing it again.

10. Baroque pearl necklace. Ditto to the above.

#I realized just how many accessories I had #because there are other favs that couldn't even make it onto the list #like my cow bone rosary #or the bracelet with a scorpion in lucite #askertorte #haus des rolands

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onelastskip · 8 months ago

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wahhhhh i posted this on the keyframes discord server but just some kf + chi aubade stuff

Little things that remind the cast of Chi :3

Deja: Chipmunks, Cream puffs, Shy Guy (Mario), Fluffy blankets, Stuffed animals, Cute patterned Washi tape, Rose quartz, Wind chimes, Dating sims, Fairy lights

Cam: Squirrels, Crepes, Cherry 7-11 Slurpees, Sweet chili chips, Silly cat pictures, Pokemon cards, Soju, Ditto by New Jeans, Pretty dice, Keychains, Shoujo manga

Percy: Rabbits, Mochi, Paper stars, Pears, Claw machines, Embroidered clothing, Chokers, Necklaces, Waffles,

Elio: Ursa minor, Cinnamon rolls, Pink maidenhair ferns, String bracelets, Overalls

Jamie: Chunky knit sweaters and cardigans, Lace, Mice, Cupcakes, Chrysanthemums

Reynah: Butterflies, Strawberries, Mimosas, Milk tea, Dogs tilting their heads

All of them: The colour pink, Smell of vanilla, Fun earrings, Cotton candy, Cameras/photography, Mugs

i will probably do things that remind chi of her friends later idk teehee

#also... percy looks up at the moon and thinks of her but you didnt hear that from me #skips rambles :3 #chi aubade #keyframes mc

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casliveblog · 2 months ago

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Custom Toonami Block Week 218 Rundown

Devil May Cry: We get Lady’s little backstory as the cold open and it’s not as generic as it could be but it’s not anything special, like she’s a dumb little kid that always believed in demons and ironically SURVIVING a demonic attack is what tore her family apart, though if demons are common enough to just trip over in the subway you’d think her dad would get scooped up by some SCP Foundation shit for all his talk about it. Meanwhile back in the present, the Vice President offers Dante a job like some sort of Suicide Squad and after a casual Resident Evil shared universe drop, we find out Dante just thinks he’s an X-Man and really doesn’t know that his necklace is important. And the the thing sticks out to me about that is Dante was STILL protecting the thing with his life and not willing to give it up for anything, not because it was important but because it was something his mom gave him and I think that’s really sweet. The Rabbit shows up with a fucking rocket launcher and all the demons that would probably be mini-bosses if this were a game. Lady kinda gets stuck on cleanup duty and it’s clear she doesn’t stand a fucking chance while the Rabbit re-forms the necklace with the help of the sketchy PTSD guy and like did he even need help? The Rabbit’s been shown to just be able to samurai slice anything human like butter so what is this guy actually doing to help him aside from handing him something that was five feet away anyway and releasing Dante? Like I guess he helped them get the location of Lady’s team but that wasn’t directly shown and I feel like the demons can probably track Dante well enough without his help that they could’ve found it without him. Still with Dante freed we get an awesome high speed chase to the sound of Last Resort and I love this show’s lack of shame to be cringe like it reminds me of the Sonic movies, they know what they are and they lean into it hard. Still at the end of the chase after Dante’s non-lethally beaten the minibosses so they can come back later while simultaneously mulling over his Inuyasha existence, the Suicide Squad bomb stops the rabbit from pulling his Devil Trigger and blows half his face off in a real ‘Man what does it take to kill me?’ moment.

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime: Rimiru uses the “Goddard: Options” mode to try and figure out how to jailbreak his new dragon buddy and decides he can just eat the dragon to smuggle him out and figure the rest out later. They give each other names in a sort of blood brother oath before Rimiru eats him and I’ve always liked the trope that naming a thing gives it strength, Bleach does this too and there’s a couple others where announcing the name gives it like extra aura points and this feels like that taken to its logical extreme with people because when you really get down to it Names are important for a sense of identity, a kind of superpower that makes you you. Afterwards Rimiru bounces his way around killing snakes and bugs like a weird version of a Pokemon game where you’re a Ditto that gets to keep its stocked Transforms. There’s a part of humans driven by vague political nonsense since the dragon was apparently powerful enough even sealed and undisturbed that he can destabilize the region and they basically open the door for him. Outside he runs into goblins begging for the Grand Demon’s help because he’s just putting off Conqueror’s Haki with his big magical slime dick hanging out and considering he’s a nice enough person and the Dire Wolves after them are kinda indirectly his fault it’s the least he can do to Seven Samurai his new vassals into fighting off the wolves.

Cyberpunk Edgerunners: So David has straight-up superpowers now and officially puts in his resignation at school by beating the shit out of his Fist of the North Star bully and basically having… no plan after that, only finding Lucy on the train (also I’m just now realizing the train is the only thing in this Capitalist hellscape that DOESN’T seem to cost money since David seems unconcerned with riding it for the hell of it, does Cyberpunk’s exaggerated hyperpredaroty Capitalist system STILL have better public transportation than the real US?) Anyway Lucy puts him to work stealing people’s micro SD cards which is somehow money I guess, like yeah I guess any technology you can sell it technically money but they act like it’s pickpocketing a wallet and idk enough about the Cyperpunk world to know if it’s actual currency or just parts. Still after all that David’s superpower limit has been reached and his doctor gives him a three a day max limit on the superspeed, working on Chidori rules here, I do always love the ‘X uses per day’ trope, kinda puts some added tension on any superpowers and keeps the viewers counting. Lucy takes him through a BEAUTIFUL chase through the city and a Moon video, giving out max Manic Pixie Dream Girl vibes in the process and they kinda connect in the way you’d expect people running around in a beautifully shot music video to, though of course this show still has –punk in the title so they’re also still guarded assholes sharing the vulnerabilities ironically of course. Still Lucy seems to have set him up with the Moon Video and now people responding to the APB on his robo-spine have come calling, hope we don’t find out that despite being a traitorous bitch Lucy does have a soft spot for him and only mildly hedged her bets on him escaping, no way that’s happening.

SAO Alternative: The NPC-testing mission continues and before SHINC and LPFM can engage, the Machine Gun Bros step in to noisily wreck things as only they can, using basically infinite machine gun ammo to basically disintegrate their cover. LPFM and SHINC call a truce and Pito and one of the SHINC girls sacrifice one of their three lives to respawn on the perimeter behind the bros while M distracts them with Manly Machine Gun Talk for Men™ and they get jumped because they didn’t have a lookout, I love the Machine Gun Bros they’re so fucking dumb. SHINC and LPFM decide to go their separate ways and actually focus on the mission instead of having an awkward truce break. LLENN moves ahead but is put into the trap that kills her which was the cold open from a few episodes ago, though of course now we know she has extra lives. Everyone regroups and thanks to Pito’s drone we get the names and faces of all the NPC while Fuka ascribes random backstories to everyone, our girl putting in more thought to characterization than the developers. Still we have a few scenes of Memento Mori and SHINC acting as jobbers for the NPCs and losing one of their lives as both get teamwiped. Like they play this up as the NPC AI being really good but realistically the NPCs outnumber any single team and have a heavily fortified vantage point with a wide range of weaponry, it’s not exactly Jack and the Ultra-Bots given the decks are already stacked against them. Still the Machine Gun Bros are back and they just want into the castle so they can have fun blasting stuff from a fortress so they surrender to the NPCs which is really fucking funny. Looks like it’s alliance-forming time as next episode has LLENN running around forming liaisons with the other teams.

Heavenly Delusion: Since I’m still kinda having a hard time keeping track of the Promised Neverland plot given nothing’s really happening yet I’ll start with that summary again There’s some drama going on cause all the girls want the artsy kid just like in real life and they’re selling nude pics to each other, again just like real life. Also they seem to have sharp physical abilities and this kid survives a definitely lethal fall without a scratch so they may be in a simulation? Like these Promised Neverland kids may just legit be in the Matrix and that’s why they can’t go outside because the program only has so much range. Anyway back with Kiruko and Maru, they sneak out to do some monster fighting and fight the Whip Crow only for the caretaker to have the classic zombie apocalypse thing of wanting to protect the thing that ate her son because they may still be in there somewhere but that door’s slammed pretty shut when it kills her and then Maru uses his… superpowers to… squeeze it’s heart or something so it dies. They leave the whole situation deliberately vague and it’s kinda up to the viewer on how charitable they want to be with this setup and its ramifications on the world, like I don’t usually like ‘it’s open so you can draw your own conclusions’ because it’s a lazy method for just not finishing a story and not having to deal with the consequences of a solid ending but for something small like this it’s actually pretty neat, like in the end this doesn’t matter at all so leaving it up to interpretation is fine. The two do make their way to the tomato farm from last episode which has mild Jamestown vibes so Kiruko wants to get the fuck out of there before the Kool-Aid starts getting passed out, just in case. Maru reveals that he does know his mission is to inject someone that looks exactly like him with something so it will ‘help everyone’ and given they already placed the Great Disturbance that wrecked the world at around Maru’s age we can establish he’s basically on a mission to kill his evil twin and stop the animal mutants thereby, but that’s just a theory. We also get a little Kiruko lore in that she was apparently a racer that killed her brother in a crash, idk how that works given she’s spent her entire life in an apocalypse but sure. Still they get another lead for where the laser gun they have was made and given this whole trip is based on following shoestring leads, might as well. They get on a boat back to Tokyo and Maru’s had enough of dragging the romance plot out and confesses to Kiruko who… says she’s a man and I’m not sure how to take that. Like first, idk what the dichotomy is that says you’re trans and being a man would preclude having a relationship with other men like ‘I’m a man and also straight’ may not have the same coming-out impact but it’s a little befuddling to me that this confession is progressive in some ways and weirdly heteronormative in others. Second, idk if this is actual trans discourse of sci-fi nonsense like given all we’ve seen that could also be the case, it’s a heck of a place to put a cliffhanger because the more I dig into it the more I look like the asshole. Third this could also be a joke, I’ve heard of this trope before and it’s a very weird thing some tomboys do to just kinda get out of awkward situations, like Kiruko doesn’t seem to have any problem with female pronouns and she may just be tired of correcting people she’ll only know for a few days anyway but I really don’t know where to go with this, like if you like the person’s personality and find them attractive idk if the rest matters and I seriously doubt Maru’s gonna be baited away by this revelation either because boy’s got it bad.

Trigun: During the Actual Typhoon story arc, the Figurative Typhoon decides to visit the closest place he can consider home, a seed ship that’s somehow suspended above the planet, do not ask me how this works, Vash’s ride up there also kinda floats so either the city produces some kind of anti-grav field or Trigun Planet’s atmosphere is just like that and has zero gravity at a certain altitude. Wolfwood tags along but the people are VERY Xenophobic given it’s one of those ‘peace hanging on by a thread because of isolation’ societies and Wolfwood does have a point that it’s been over a hundred years of this ship floating with no maintence so they will have to integrate at some point, seems kind of like a Fallout Vault-Tec situation here. Vash gets a new coat and chats up the little girl crushing on him and the big muscle guy who might as well be the grandkid of the big muscle guy on the original crew because they’re basically the same character despite the new guy not being a SA-ing asshole. Still when the Gung-Ho Guns version of Sasori manages to dump his puppet pieces into the vents shit really starts hitting the fan when Wolfwood gets caught with some dead bodies which the people are not happy about given they were already throwing rocks at him for just standing there. The new muscle guy does have a crisis of conscience and flashes back to Vash saying peace is a matter of having faith in each other but luckily we don’t drag out the falsely accused plotline too long as Sasori shows himself and notably Wolfwood does seem to recognize him and vice versa. They manage to de-escalate the situation and Vash comes in to rescue the little hostage girl and destroy Sasori’s puppets but Sasori reveals he’s got more puppets and two more Gung-Hoes along for the ride with him, so… oops.

Revolutionary Girl Utena: So this is probably the most shook I’ve ever been from what’s essentially a clip show because despite all the fluff and reused animation it slowly becomes obvious what this episode is all about and oh fuck I was not ready. Akio’s answering quiz show questions in her car and Utena is somewhere away from the school near an amusement park doing her usual talking to herself and asking thinly-veiled vaguely existential questions. I probably figured it out about halfway through but the long and the short of it is Akio finally seduced Utena and took her to his vacation place and went to the amusement park and the fucked. And full credit to the Late Rachel Lillis because the scene where Utena’s just listing off her lunch options for tomorrow and her voice is breaking because she has no idea how to cope with her moment of weakness where an older man took advantage of her and she betrayed the trust of several of her friends all in one fell swoop is fucking fantastic, like the delivery kinda fucking broke me. There’s a lot to fucking unpack here even though this episode only has like five minutes of new content. The whole thing’s shot like Utena’s doing an ASMR video like the camera’s from Akio’s POV, meanwhile Anthy slowly gets revealed to have thematically delivered Utena to Akio in a long-term and short-term sense and it’s weird to say that Utena sleeping with Akio is a betrayal of Anthy too given she literally caused it and they aren’t technically actually a couple but given all the vibes and bonding it does still kinda hurt. But yeah they really felt the need to drop a bomb during a clip show just to make sure you fuckers were still watching huh.

#ooc #Toonami #Custom Toonami Block #Devil May Cry #That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime #Cyberpunk Edgerunners #SAO Alternative #Heavenly Delusion #Tengoku Daimakyou #Trigun #Revolutionary Girl Utena

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