#feathers flames and wands

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

More of the Feather, Flames and Wands AU AU where Harry is like 10 and it’s sort of canon time:

Harry: *comes back from a play date Remus set up with the Weasley family* Hawks?

Hawks: Yes? *had been on the phone with Dabi discussing Harry. Was on speakerphone, Dabi fell silent*

Harry: How do you know what a crush is?

Hawks:… why?

Harry: I met Bill Weasley and he’s really nice and tall and handsome and also-

Dabi: WHAT-

Hawks: *hangs up*

Harry:… was that Dabi?

Hawks: Yes.

-0-

Harry: *got grabbed by the LOV and is now in the bar staring at Dabi* So… you’re my other dad.

Dabi:… yes.

Harry: Is your hair white?

Dabi: What?

Harry: Like when we took off the glamour for my hair it was white and Hawks said it probably meant you dye your hair. Why? Are you emo?

Dabi:…

Shigaraki, Toga and Twice: *dying in the background*

-0-

Harry: *at UA cause Hawks needs a babysitter and doesn’t trust commission and it’s after full moon so Remus can’t* Tokoyami?

Tokoyami: *is in charge of Harry as part of his internships* Yes?

Harry: Do you have a crush on Midoriya? Cause I saw you and Dark Shadow staring when he wasn’t wearing a-

Tokoyami: *hand over Harry’s mouth* FASCINATING QUESTION LET’S DISCUSS IT IN MY ROOM.

[thecupidwitch]

Elements And Their Correspondences

Earth

Direction: North

Time: Midnight

Season: Winter

Color: Green, brown

Zodiac: Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn

Ruling planets: Venus and Saturn

Tarot Cards: Pentacles, Coins

Tools: Pentacle, salt, stones, dirt, crystals, wood, flowers

Cystals: Emerald, Jet, tourmaline, quartz, onyx, azurite, amethyst, jasper, peridot, granite.

Animals: gopher, bear, wolf, ant, horse, stag, deer, dog, cow, bull, bison, snake, worms, moles, voles, grubs

Herbs: Oak, cedar, cypress, honeysuckle, ivy, primrose, sage, grains, patchouli, nuts, magnolia, comfrey, vetivert, moss, lilac, lichen, roots, barley, alfalfa, corn, rice.

Rules: Grounding, strength, healing, success, stability, sturdiness, steadfastness, foundations, empathy, fertility, death, rebirth, wisdom, nature, animals, plants, money, prosperity.

Water

Direction: West

Time: Dusk

Season: Fall

Color: Blue, Indigo, Sliver

Zodiac: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces

Ruling planets: Moon, Neptune, Pluto

Tarot Cards: Cups

Tools: Ocean, sea glass, cup, bowl, seaweed, hag stones, cauldron

Cystals: Moonstone, pearl, silver, aquamarine, amethyst, blue tourmaline, lapis lazuli, fluorite, coral, blue topaz, beryl, opal, coral

Animals: fish, snake, frog, crab, lobster, eel, shark, dragonfly, seahorse, dolphin, sea otter, seal, whale, alligator, crocodile, beaver, octopus, penguin, salamander, turtle, starfish, koi, coral, barnacle, manta ray, manatee, jellyfish, nautilus, heron, duck, geese, crane, swan, water birds, ammonite, dragons, serpents

Herbs: seaweed, aloe, fern, water lily, lotus, moss, willow, gardenia, apple, catnip, chamomile, cattail, lettuce, kelp, birch, cabbage, coconut, cucumber, comfrey, eucalyptus, gourd, geranium, grape, licorice, lilac, pear, strawberry, tomato

Rules: emotion, intuition, psychic abilities, love, unconscious mind, fertility, self-healing, reflection, lunar energy, deep feelings, curses, death

Fire

Direction: South

Time: Noon

Season: Summer

Color: Red, Orange

Zodiac: Aries, Leo, Sagittarius

Ruling planets: Sun, Mars

Tarot Cards: Wands or Swords (depends on belief system)

Tools: Athame, candles, swords, wands, dagger, lamp, flame

Cystals: Carnelian, red jasper, bloodstone, garnet, ruby, agate, rhodochrosite, gold, pyrite, brass, fire opal, lavastone, tiger's eye

Animals: Lion, snake, coyote, fox, ladybug, bee, shark, scorpion, horse, mantis, tiger

Herbs: Cinnamon, cloves, ginger, allspice, basil, cacti, marigold, chilis, garlic, mustard, nettle, onion, heliotrope, hibiscus, juniper, lime, orange, red pepper, poppies, thistle, coffee, jalapenos, lemon, cumin, saffron, coriander

Rules: Energy, will, destruction, strength, courage, power, passion, lust, sexuality, anger, war, new beginnings, protection, loyalty, transformation, action, movement, achievement, creativity, desire, willpower

Air

Direction: East

Time: Down

Season: Spring

Color: Yellow, gold, white, light blue, pastels

Zodiac: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius

Ruling planets: Mercury, Jupiter, Uranus

Tarot Cards: Wands

Tools: Feather, wand, staff, incense, broom, bell, sword, pen

Cystals: Amber, topaz, citrine, jasper, agate, pumice, alexandrite, amethyst, fluorite, mica, clear quartz

Animals: Birds, flying insects, spiders, bats

Herbs: Bergamot, lavender, marjoram, peppermint, sage, dandelion, bluebell, clover, frankincense, primrose, lemongrass, pine, aspen, yarrow, violets, vervain, myrrh, dill, anise, aspen

Rules: Intelligence, wisdom, knowledge, logic, thought, communication, truth, inspiration, intuition, memory, creativity

Tip jar

[moonsandmobilityaids]

The Beginning

Pairings: poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: The boys have something to discuss with you. Warnings: mentions of chronic pain Series Masterlist

You've always taken pride in being a Gryffindor, even if your experience at Hogwarts has been different from most. The grand staircases are a sight to behold, but hardly practical for someone who relies on wheels to move about. Thankfully, the enchantment on your wheelchair allows you to navigate the larger flights with ease, levitating over each step like a feather caught on the wind. But the narrow spiral stairs leading to the dormitories remain a barrier that magic has yet to overcome.

And so, nestled away from the dorms, connected to the Gryffindor common room by a hidden door behind a portrait of Godric Gryffindor, is your sanctuary—a small, cosy accessible room created just for you. Its doorways are wide enough for your chair to pass through unimpeded, and shelves filled with books and curiosities slide up and down the walls at a wave of your wand, always within reach. A fireplace crackles in the corner, its flames dancing merrily, not just for show but enchanted to respond to your presence, ensuring you're never too cold or too hot.

Even so, the comfort of your space sometimes feels like an isolating divide, widening the gap between you and the other Gryffindors. You hear their laughter echo down the halls, a reminder of the camaraderie that defines your house, and it's easy to feel forgotten when your room exists separate from theirs.

But you are never truly alone. Sirius, Remus, and James are always there, their voices a constant companion in your mind. They've seen the world outside of Hogwarts, experienced the joys and pains of life beyond these ancient walls, and they offer wisdom and friendship when you need it most.

The fire flickers low in your room this evening, casting warm, dancing shadows across the wooden beams overhead and the soft blankets draped over your bed. You sit by the window, gazing out into the night as the familiar ache of your condition pulses through you—a reminder that even within these walls, filled with magic and wonder, some things remain untouched by spells and potions.

A gentle rap at the door pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn your head, shifting slightly as your body protests the movement.

"Come in," you call, your voice a soft whisper against the quietude.

The door creaks open, and Remus Lupin steps inside, his eyes meeting yours with an understanding that goes beyond words. Seeing him there, a beacon amidst the encroaching shadows, you feel a subtle lightening of the weight upon your chest. His presence, while it can't erase the pain, somehow makes it more bearable.

Behind him, Sirius Black and James Potter linger at the doorway, their postures casual but their expressions betraying their concern. There's warmth there too, a silent promise of companionship that seeps into the corners of the room, chasing away the chill of loneliness.

"Are you alright?" Remus's voice breaks the silence, his words a gentle breeze against the storm of your thoughts. He moves closer, his hand falling naturally to the back of your wheelchair as if it has always been there.

Your lips curve upward in a small smile, one that doesn't quite reach your eyes but serves its purpose all the same. "Just thinking," you reply, your gaze unfocused, lost somewhere between here and the memories that threaten to consume you.

"Uh oh, that's never good," Sirius teases, his grin a crooked line against the backdrop of concern etched into his features. He saunters over to your bed, collapsing onto it with an exaggerated sigh, the pillows protesting under his weight. James follows suit, albeit with more grace, settling himself next to Sirius.

Remus lets out an amused huff, his hand still resting on the back of your chair as though anchoring you to reality. You turn slightly, positioning yourself to face him more directly, the subtle shift in your body language inviting further conversation.

"Mind if we keep you company for a while?" James asks, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. There's a playfulness in his gaze, but it's tempered by a softness that speaks volumes of the bond shared between you.

"Always," you respond without hesitation. Their presence has been a constant source of comfort through the years, and tonight is no exception. The connection between you is tangible, a warmth that seems to grow with each passing moment.

It's more than friendship now—something deeper, unspoken yet undeniable. You feel it in the way your heart thrums at their proximity, in the ease of silence that falls when words are unnecessary.

Sirius pushes himself up from the bed, legs swinging over the side until his feet touch the floor. A teasing smirk plays on his lips as he meets your gaze. "We figured you'd be bored out of your mind cooped up in here alone. Your room could use a bit of... charm." He gestures to himself with a dramatic flourish, the smirk never leaving his face.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his theatrics. "If that's what you're calling it."

James chuckles, nudging Sirius with an elbow. "Easy there, Pads. Don't want to scare our guest away with your overwhelming 'charm.'"

Sirius feigns a wounded expression, clutching his chest dramatically. "Prongs, you wound me! I am the very picture of charm and grace."

"And modesty," Remus adds dryly, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "Don't worry, he'll survive."

You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep within, a welcome relief from the pain that has been your constant companion. "I don't doubt it."

These are the moments you cling to, the ones that make the darkness recede, if only for a little while. Even on days when your body aches with a ferocity potions can't fully quell, their presence is a balm. They don't treat you like you're made of glass, ready to shatter at any moment. Instead, they offer respect, care, and the kind of playful banter that is the hallmark of true Gryffindors.

But tonight is different. There's a charge in the air, unspoken yet palpable. It hangs heavy, a cloud threatening to burst, hinting at words left unsaid, thoughts unfinished.

Finally, James breaks the silence, his hand ruffling the already chaotic mess of his hair. "Look, we've been wanting to talk to you about something."

Your eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of interest sparking within them. "Go on," you prompt, leaning back in your chair.

Sirius shifts uncomfortably, glancing first at Remus and then at James. It's as if there's an unspoken agreement between them, a decision made in the space of a heartbeat about who should speak next. Remus lets out a quiet sigh, moving from his spot by the fireplace to kneel next to your chair. His gaze is steady, serious yet filled with a kindness that belies the gravity of his words.

"We've been giving it a lot of thought," he begins, his voice soft but firm. "About us... all of us."

Your breath catches. You think you know where this is going, but you can't bring yourself to interrupt, to voice the thought that's been stirring in the corners of your mind. Instead, you wait, silent and still, as the world outside continues its oblivious spin.

"We've always been close, you know that," Remus continues, his hand brushing yours where it rests on the arm of your chair. The contact is light, almost imperceptible, but it sends a jolt through you, electrifying the space between your skin and his. "But lately, it seems like... well, like there might be something more."

Sirius leans in then, his usual grin replaced by a look of intense seriousness. "We don't want to make things uncomfortable," he says, his grey eyes searching yours for any sign of unease. "But we need to know if you feel it too."

James, ever the bold one, leans forward as well, his voice barely more than a whisper yet carrying the weight of years' worth of emotions. "We care about you deeply. More than just friends. And we thought... perhaps you might feel the same?"

Your heart skips a beat, their words echoing the very thoughts you've been afraid to acknowledge, let alone voice. Warmth radiates from within you, spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes as you take in each of their expressions—Remus's soft smile, Sirius's hopeful eyes, James's earnest gaze.

"I do," you admit, the confession slipping past your lips before you can think to hold it back. "I have for a long time now."

Sirius exhales as if he's been holding his breath, the lines of tension easing from his face. He rises, crossing the room in two strides to crouch beside you. His arms encircle you in a gentle hug, mindful of the chair, of the pain that never quite leaves you.

James is there too, somehow managing to join the embrace without toppling the precarious balance. His hand rests heavy on your shoulder, an anchor against the storm of emotions threatening to capsize you. Remus watches with soft eyes, waiting until the others relent before offering his own gesture—a kiss pressed to your forehead, sweet and grounding.

"Part of me wondered," you say, your voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. "With everything...the chair, the constant pain—"

"Shhh." Sirius cuts you off, his voice gentle but insistent. "We've never cared about that. We care about you—all of you. Not just the parts that are easy to love."

James nods, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a warmth that defies the chill outside. "You're brilliant just as you are, Y/N."

Once again, Remus's hand finds yours, the calloused pads of his fingers tracing reassuring patterns against your skin. "We're here for you, no matter what."

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as your chest tightens. But this isn't the painful constriction of fear or sorrow—it's the swelling of a heart too full, brimming with the love and acceptance you've found within these walls.

"I love you guys," you whisper, the words carried away by the crackling fire.

Sirius smiles, a genuine expression that reaches his eyes. "And we love you, Y/N."

And just like that, the bond between the four of you solidifies, something stronger and deeper than you ever could have imagined. You aren’t just navigating life at Hogwarts anymore; you’re navigating it with them, together.

[ohmygodshesinsane]

Partners 🌧️⚗️🗒️

James is the last person Lily expects to visit when she's ill in the Hospital Wing, but the new Head Boy has more than one surprise for her. For Jily Week 2024, Day 2: Partners in Crime. Or - in this case - in being head students :') @sunshinemarauder @kay-elle-cee

read it on ao3 or under the cut!

Rain splattered the windows of the Hospital Wing, droplets glistening in the autumnal light of late afternoon, and Lily groaned as she hefted herself onto her elbows, the aniseed aftertaste of Madam Pomfrey’s last potion lingering on her tongue. Her head was foggy, her bones hurt right to their marrow, and Pomfrey herself had put her on strict bedrest, but some things couldn’t wait. It was just her luck to fall ill in only the third week of seventh year; right as the assignments were doled out and the prefects grew needy. She adjusted the pillow behind her back and reached for the wheeled table, pulling it up the bed towards her. Mary had promised to bring her notes from a few of their subjects, but there were several the two didn’t share; and there were three notes that had been left by prefects while she’d been asleep. She yawned, wishing she could have some kind of caffeine, but Madam Pomfrey insisted it interacted poorly with the antidotes she was taking. Of course. She stretched, arching her back, and decided to take a look at the prefects’ notes first. The first was from the mousey new Hufflepuff girl. She smoothed it out, ready to read.

“No.”

“Sorry?” Lily’s head bolted upright, forming a retort to whoever had arrived to boss her around – she was Head Girl, thanks, and her bout of illness had rather shortened her temper. She stopped the moment she saw who it was. “James.”

He leaned over her, black hair rumpled, still in his school robes – lessons would have not long finished, Lily supposed. His hazel eyes crinkled along with his clear smile, and his glasses slipped down his face as his gaze met hers.

“I said no,” he repeated easily, nodding towards the note. “Fairview, right? I headed her off already. She should’ve come to me in the first place, mind – I told them to, but no. Can’t have prefects with common sense – might break the system, I’m afraid.” And before she could protest, he flicked his wand with a muttered spell. The note caught flame. Lily gaped at him, shock and amusement battling within her.

“You shouldn’t do that,” she said, with no real weight. James shrugged and sat down gently on the bed, by her knees.

“She shouldn’t rabbit on so much.”

“Some prefects do have common sense,” Lily added, rubbing her throat and raising her eyebrows. James squinted one eye, tilting his head.

“Hmm,” he said slowly. “…Nah, I don’t think so. Nobody with common sense is doing work when they’re in the bloody Infirmary, are they?”

Lily huffed instead of replying properly, feeling strangely… touched, by James’s handling of it. By all rights, he was as in charge as she was, so he ought to be sharing the load – but when she’d discovered he’d be at her side this year, she’d not expected him to take it seriously. It was supposed to be just another feather in his cap – Quidditch Captain, Head Boy, Special Services to the School… A year ago, she wouldn’t have thought he’d ever bother to learn the name of a girl like Maisie Fairview.

“McGonagall wants an essay on mid-weight Conjuration by next Thursday, but I talked to her and she knows you’re in here, so she said you’ve got ‘til the Monday after,” James started absently, grabbing the pitcher of water. Without asking, he filled two glasses and offered her one.

“Thanks,” said Lily, surprised. With the first sip she relaxed; it was cool on her raw throat.

“I’ve got notes from Defence too – you can have them when you get out,” James said, wagging a finger at her, “not in here. Metaphysical properties of defensive spells. Proctor’s real into theory. S’pose they didn’t want another Auror sort, after last year. If I ever get my hands on Mulciber…”

“He’s not causing trouble?” Lily sat up straighter, frowning. James snorted.

“I wish, I’m itching to take points.” Lily’s twitching smile belied her attempted look of disapproval. “Nah, he’s just glowering up the back of the classroom. Better that way, though.” James ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been devastated to discover that some things are more important than getting an excuse to hex someone to Wallonia and back.”

“That sucks,” Lily said, grinning.

“Cost-benefit,” he said flippantly. “Anyways, I know Mary’s got you covered for Charms and Potions – thank Merlin for that, I hate Potions – ah. I’ve got Moony’s notes for Ancient Runes for you too. When you’re out of the Hospital Wing,” he added sternly. Lily folded her arms across her chest.

“You make me sound like a child wanting sweets before supper.”

“Because you’re acting like me,” James replied, and before Lily could protest, he went on, “being a complete idiot. Any work you do while you’re feeling crap will turn out crap, and the more you push yourself, the worse you’ll feel. What you need to do is rest.”

Lily took another mouthful of water, washing away the last of the potion. “I know,” she said, and she did, logically. “But –”

“You’re not on your own, you know,” James said. Lily faltered. He set his glass down on the tray table and inched a little closer, jaw squared. “You’re not missing any lessons, really – we’ve got everything you need for when you’re better. And I know I wasn’t a prefect or anything, but… Well… I can do it.” The most bizarre expression crossed his face, and it took Lily a moment to identify it – awkward? She hadn’t known James was capable of looking awkward, but there it was, albeit a very handsome, smooth rendition that most regular people would’ve killed for. “We’re partners,” he said softly. “If one of us is down for the count, then… well… I can handle it all, Evans.” He swept up the remaining messages from the prefects. “I just want you to feel better, all right?”

The air thickened. Lily was painfully aware of the pillow digging into her back, that she’d not showered since she’d been admitted yesterday morning, that she was in an unflattering, stripy pair of pink pyjamas, that there were two second-year boys making farting sounds with their armpits a few beds over, and that James’s side brushed her knee, the contact brief and burning and tingling from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

She was lost for words. And she had no right to be: James was, essentially, just behaving the way any decent Head Boy ought to. Lily shifted, guilt slipping over her shoulders like a ragged old cloak, clasped too tight at the neck. James watched her, the rain outside reflected in his rectangular lenses. Genuine. Patient.

She had underestimated him. Her stomach prickled.

“Partners,” she echoed, and set her glass down too, using her free hand to extend her pinkie. “Thank you, James. I suppose I got pretty lucky.”

“You got lucky?” James grinned and shook his head. His smallest finger wrapped around hers, and the friendly touch made her shiver. His finger had a callous – from catching Quaffles, she reckoned. He never wore gloves. Ruined his technique, apparently. She didn’t know why she remembered him saying that. “So is this a promise, Evans? You’ll take it easy?”

“‘Evans’?” Lily said, sounding bolder than she felt, thinking that she could blame this in the future on her illness or the potion (but it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t). “If we’re partners, James, we might need to be a bit more cordial than that.”

His face lit. It was magical. “Right you are. So, you’ll rest for me, Lily?” His voice was gentler on her name, tongue caressing the ‘l’s, each vowel a reverent breath.

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

Their knuckles brushed. Partners.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Welcome Back.

From the moment those tall iron gates— elegant and ebony—swing open and you pass through them, a dizzying nostalgia floods into you. Here is the line that divided the rest of the world from the campus guard behind its barrier. The air is thick with magic, tasting sweet as you sip it.

This feeling, you think, head buzzing from the thrill, can be matched by nothing else.

You’re in a crowd, allowing yourself to be swept up by it and carried along its current. Men in casual wear, men in formal suits, men in outlandish and odd attire. All of you, set on the same path down Main Street.

Seven statues stand erect, monuments to seven great historical figures.

The Queen of Hearts, her rounded proportions blossoming from a patch of roses. She holds up part of her skirt with one hand and a heart-topped wand in the other. Her peaceful expression betrays the sternness with which she commands.

The King of Beasts, perched upon a rock that slants up. The lion has persisted and finally scaled the peak. He now looks skyward, his cunning visage locked to and even grander future.

The Sea Witch, tentacles curling amid carved waves. She casually leans back, unfurling a contract in one hand. Sign, and she will bless you with her benevolence.

The Sorcerer of the Sands, appearing in a cloud of sand. He stands, thin and wiry, with his serpent scepter and a hand on his hip. His face is contemplative, mindfully considering visitors.

The Beautiful Queen, svelte and lovely as she steps forth from the smoke, A poisoned apple is suspended from her fingers. She is as tempting as she is tenacious.

The Lord of the Underworld, grinning amid broiling flames. His hands are both lifted, a ball of fire conjured on one fingertip. Playful as he is, the man is diligent in his work.

The Thorn Witch, her horns and tattered robes right at home in the briar. She is poised and elegant, fingers curled at her chest. Truly noble in every way.

You lower your head to them in deference as you pass.

The crowd funnels into a doorway, then into a dimly lit room. It’s circular in design, with several windows, the curtains drawn over them, and floating coffins ringing the outskirts. With the day banished, the only source of light were the apocalyptic green flames emitting from high sconces.

An elaborate crystal chandelier and many pearl lines hang over their heads. They shift in and out of the void, sometimes catching and shining in the glow of the flames.

In the center is a large mirror upon an elevated platform. The frame, an intricate braid. Its surface, dull and dark—as if coated in a layer of coal dust.

This, too, you remember vividly.

But not the small figure standing become the mirror.

They are fitted in a mourning gown of blacks and deep blues. Feathers adorn their chest, scattered iridescent fragments woven into their skirt. A long wispy veil obscures their face—but you swear you can hear an eerie, faint giggle come from behind the gathered fabric.

They lift their hands, beckoning you to draw nearer. You are compelled to obey, your feet drifting.

“Welcome, welcome, one and all,” they announce cheerily.

Your scalp tingles. And they sound so close too. Like a childhood lullaby, a musical box wound up.

“Welcome back to our Night Raven College. It is a pleasure to see you again. How nostalgic.”

Rose gold comes to mind, and you're unsure of why that is. It comes with a familiar feeling--of rediscovering a lost part of yourself, of rose-tinted glasses slipping on and clouding one's vision, of the wonderfulness of meeting an old friend. The color of dawn beckoning a new day.

Who is…?

They reach for their veil and carefully raise it.

Your heart leaps. Deja vu.

A demure smile. Honey-colored eyes staring straight into your soul. Wonder and curiosity radiating off of her.

You suddenly know who it is.

“We’ve missed you, dear alumni.”

[hollowed-theory-hall]

during the childhood Tom Riddle uses wandless magic on purpose not just randomly but then due to laws(?) to go to school get a wand and obsession about them especially during ii war like dude it's not only not normal its strange even for you

why don't abandon the wand and develop wandless magic? is he stupid or dark magic need a channel to not hurt the wizard? or it's jkr?

Hello 👋

I think Tom's obsession with wands started earlier than that. When he first saw Dumbledore use his wand to set his wardrobe on fire:

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. “Where can I get one of them?”

(HBP, 310)

The first thing Tom wants to know (once he gets over his shock and rage), as you can see is: "where can I get one?"

Tom grew up with basically nothing to his name and no power. His focus on power and magic is due to that. He wishes to have power over his own life and over others since he never had it. This is what pushes him to use his magic wandlessly as a child and steal things. It's part of his need to be in control.

The thing is, as talented and capable as Tom is, a wand symbolizes power, control, and freedom for him from the moment he lays his eyes on a wand. It's more than just a tool, it's a symbol of what it is to be a wizard, at least for Tom.

Even if he doesn't need it, a wand for him is what symbolizes the Wizarding World and magic. He actually treats his own yaw wand very similar to how Harry treats his holly wand:

He had spilled his own blood more times than he could count; he had lost all the bones in his right arm once; this journey had already given him scars to his chest and forearm to join those on his hand and forehead, but never, until this moment, had he felt himself to be fatally weakened, vulnerable, and naked, as though the best part of his magical power had been torn from him. He knew exactly what Hermione would say if he expressed any of this: The wand is only as good as the wizard. But she was wrong, his case was different. She had not felt the wand spin like the needle of a compass and shoot golden flames at his enemy. He had lost the protection of the twin cores, and only now that it was gone did he realize how much he had been counting upon it.

(DH, 303)

Even if Harry could cast with another wand, his feels special, different, an extension of himself.

And Voldemort feels the same about his yaw wand:

Lucius Malfoy made an involuntary movement; for a fraction of a second, it seemed he expected to receive Voldemort’s want in exchange for his own. The gesture was not missed by Voldemort, whose eyes widened maliciously. “Give you my wand, Lucius? My wand?”

(DH, 13)

“The Dark Lord,” said Ollivander in hushed and frightened tones, “had always been happy with the wand I made him—yes, phoenix feather, thirteen-and-a-half inches—until he discovered the connection of the twin cores. Now he seeks another, more powerful wand, as the only way to conquer yours.”

(DH, 424)

Even when he uses another wand, he seems to keep the yaw wand with him. I believe he is very sentimental about it, just as he is sentimental about other items and locations. His yaw wand is an extension of him. It's one of the first things that were his. That were bought new for him and no one else used them before.

As much as Harry's wand was a novelty for him in Philosopher's Stone, so it was for Tom. They both think of their wands as a symbol of magic and freedom of all that the Wizarding World gave them, even if both could cast wandlessly or with another wand.

I think Voldemort is so obsessed with killing Harry using magic while wielding a wand in a proper duel because he wants to kill Harry the proper way. If he wanted to just kill him he could, but it was never about killing Harry, it was about rectifying his failure. And to do that he must succeed to do exactly what he failed to do before. So he must kill Harry fairly when they are both armed with wands, otherwise, it wouldn't prove to him his own superiority. Hence once he realizes his own wand won't cut it, he seeks another wand.

I think, that in the forest, when Harry came to die, Voldemort was scared of his survival, I mentioned it already, but I also think he was somewhat surprised and disappointed Harry didn't fight back. Because the death wasn't "proper". It hadn't gone down the way Tom imagined it would, and he felt empty since he achieved what he was so focused on, and it was underwhelming. And then he was stuck with a government he didn't want anything to do with. Like, I don't think he was particularly thinking ahead about all of this.

I think, given time, he would've just faked his own death or found some other excuse to leave since he doesn't really care for the ministry or his Death Eaters, but I digress.

TL;DR

It's not about the magic of the wand, Voldemort is capable without it, it's about sentimentality and the right way to kill Harry (because killing him without both of them being armed with wands, just won't be right).

[cursecuelebre]

All About Woden or Oðin

It’s going to be a bit long so I hope I won’t bore y’all.

Attributes:

War

Wisdom

Magic (Seidr or Galdr)

Death

Poetry

Runes

Healing

Divination

The elite which is the high class (historically speaking but he can still be worshipped by any class he doesn’t discriminate)

King of Asgard and Aesir

Father to men and gods

Spirits

Air and Breath

Symbols

Runes (which he gifted to mankind and sacrifice himself for)

Ravens, he has two of his own called Huginn (thought) and Muninn (Memory). Crows can be associated as well but accurately are Ravens.

The rune Ansuz

Wolves

Staffs

His spear Gungnir which will always hit its mark

A winged helmet

Sleipnir the eight legged horse, child of Loki. Horses can also be a good symbol as well.

Valknut a sigil that is representative of Death, Preparation, and Protection.

The Gungnir sigil which is a diamond with an X over in the center

Horn Triskelion which Odin’s gift of knowledge of poetry and mead

Poetry this can be written poems or songs

Wednesday or Woden’s day

His own set of books called Havamal which is basically Norse proverbs but it’s basically means “Words of The One Eyed”

Herbs/Plants/Trees: Ash trees, Elm Trees, Rowan Trees, Horehound, Parsley, Woad, Mugwort

Offerings.

Mead (Beer can be a good substitute) if you can’t get beer water or tea or coffee is fine

Meat (for his wolves it’s said that Odin doesn’t eat but drinks a lot according to mythology, but I don’t think he would be mad if you put some on the side for him)

Poetry or general music

Handmade items

Weapons (doesn’t have to be real)

Bird feed (for his ravens)

Crystals (it’s more neo pagan, but he likes obsidian a lot)

Devoted acts like writing, exercise, crafting, etc.

Any magical things

Anything associated with Horses, horses were very sacred in Norse culture. Pictures of horses, horse hair(if you can find any), drawings of horses, etc.

Ravens like raven feathers or skulls (please clean them well and ask the spirit for permission) but then again no need anything crow or Raven related same with Wolves.

Runes, bind runes, handcrafted runes, rune artwork, etc. any divination tool as well like a tarot deck.

Staffs or Wands

Depictions

There is quite few depictions of Oðin in artwork but here is common scenery, he is an older gentleman with a long beard with one eye (the lore never said which eye was sacrificed).

His wanderer aspect: It’s the one I described earlier about him looking like Gandalf, a older man in a top hat or hooded in old robes carrying a staff. This aspect is of him traveling throughout the nine realms.

Warrior aspect or King aspect: He is in his armor, carrying a spear. Sitting in a throne with his winged helmet by his side are his two wolves Geri and Freki and at his shoulders is Huginn and Muninn who are essentially his messengers but very still apart of them so that they can see everything throughout the nine realms.

His hanged aspect: Which shows him hanging upside down from the world tree by stabbing himself while gaining knowledge about the runes. He died then rose back to life fully understanding the runes we know today which he gifted to us.

Sleipnir: Oðin attain Sleipnir by Loki, Sleipnir has eight legs and was Oðin’s battle horse and accompanied him throughout the nine realms most famously known traveling to Helheim to summon a dead seer for a prophecy.

Titles

There are so many but I’ll shall put the ones that are commonly used and ones I really like and forgive me for any spelling mistakes Germanic or any Scandinavian languages isn’t my first language and I have terrible handwriting.

Aldafödr- Father of men

Alfaðir or Alföðr - Allfather

Báleygr - Feeble eye, one eyed or flamed eye

Draugadróttin - Lord of Ghosts

Foldardróttin- Lord of The Earth

Gapthrosnir - One in a Gaping Frenzy

Gizur - Riddler

Ginnarr- Decevier

Göndlir - Wand Bearer

Gollnir - Yeller

Godjaðarr - God Protector

Grimnir, Grimr - Masked one, hooded one

Hangaguð - Hanged God

Gudan - Master of Fury

Haptabeiðir - Ruler of the gods

Haptasnytirr- Teacher of The Gods

Hárbarðr- Grey Beard

Hárr - One eye

Havi- High one

Jölföðr - Yule Father

Jölnir - Yule

Oðinn- Frenzy one

Óski - Fulfiller of Desires

Runatyr- God of Runes

Sigföðr - Father of Victory

Wōden- Master of Fury

Ódr - “frenzy”, divine inspiration, breath

Wilde Jaegar - Lord of The Wild Hunt

Karl - Old man

War-Father

Long hat

Wise and Wisdom Granter

True Father

Spell caster

Shadowed face

Fool and Wise man

Sleep-maker

General Information

Commonly known as Oðin (frenzy) or Wōden (Fury) to the Anglo Saxons he is probably one of fascinating gods in Germanic/Norse Mythology. From the titles and attributes even the symbols you can tell he isn’t just one set type of God he rules and charges over countless of things.

Oðin was born to Borr along with his two brothers, Vili and Ve, Oðin is the oldest. All three brothers killed the first being in existence Ymir. Which they created the earth, sky, and sea from his corpse literally Ymir’s skull is the sky and his brain the clouds and his blood the rivers and ocean. Then him and his brothers created the first humans Ask and Embla from pieces of trunks of Ash and Oak. I should note that most of what sources we have Norse Mythology is from Christian sources so you might see some influences from Abrahamic faiths. Oðin along with his brothers Vili and Ve gave each of them a trait of life. Oðin gave breath of life, Vili gave understanding and physical movements, and Ve gave their senses.

Oðin is a god of wisdom, he is always eager for the pursue of knowledge. That is why he travels a lot. Once he came upon the Well of Mimir beneath Yggdrasil’s roots a Jotun who guarded the well who was the wisest being of all and his well and grant such wisdom. Oðin asked if he can drink from the waters. Mimir agreed but said he needed to give the well, a sacrifice, so Oðin did that he gave the well his eye that he can drink. From doing so he became very knowledgeable in the ways of magic, curing the sick, calm storms, summoning the dead, etc this lead him on to his pursuit of the Runes. By the way Mimir’s head was beheaded and to preserve his head Oðin put the head in herbs and sang spells so that Mimir can still speak to him.

Then another famous story was how he gain the runes. Oðin hung himself upside down from the Yggdrasil tree by piercing himself with his spear as he called for the runes. For nine days and nine nights he had no help but when the runes finally came to him he let out a cry falling dying. It’s said it was describe the light of the world going dark when Oðin dead but suddenly it light up again and Oðin came back alive with the knowledge of the runes. Which he generously shared with Mankind.

He is a god rules over Valhalla one half goes to him (those who die in battle) and the other goes to Freyja’s hall. He’ll lead dead warriors when Ragnorak begins.

He is the god of kings and rulers but he also is the god of tyrants as well

God of order but he does do some trickery like Loki.

He is a war god there is so many titles that have him in war context that is overwhelming lol. About frenzy, fury, spears, victory, etc. it’s also describe Oðin will bring war upon peaceful communities as well.

God of Death, he is considered to be a psychopomp

He is equivalent to Mercury or Hermes (Psychopomp, knowledge, share the same day Wednesday.) similarities between them are mostly documented by Roman historian Tacitus.

He is a God among the goths, Anglo-Saxons, Germanic Tribes, Norse, Danes, Swedish, Finnish, and Icelandic peoples

He is the God of the Wild hunt which along side him is Holda a Germanic goddess of winter and death, it’s said Santa Claus is partly inspired from him because after he is finished with his hunt will come around people’s homes dropping gifts in shoes. He is also known as the Yule-Father.

Oðin is also the god of magic of Seidr and Galdr, Seidr is like a shamanic form of magic that the Norse used. It involved divination, spirit work, chanting, spinning, meditation. Seidr historically was only socially acceptable for women to practice not men but Oðin is the one that taught men Seidr. Galdr is magic of chanting or singing, created the song to cast spells. He can send a person dreams and messages. He can also make witches go mad apparently.

He is able to summon the dead, make them alive again. 

Oðin is married to Frigga of marriage and justice and they had together Baldr, Hodr, and Hermod. But Oðin had many lovers and many children including Thor, Vali, Vidarr, Heimdallr, and many more. It’s also said that he had a relationship with Freyja even married her at one point before he disappeared however it’s not quite clear nor proven to be Oðin just speculation.

My personal experience

I will say Odin is a different type of God I encounter with. The best way I can describe it and it may sound weird but he’s like a fun grandfather. He has his wisdom and knowledge but also his sense of humor. He has helped me through a lot especially with anxiety and depression and burnout. Out of all the gods I have worked with he is the one that gives me the most dreams, the dreams are so beautiful and powerful I can’t describe them in full detail but involves magic.

Typically he loves any type of votive offering (creating the offering) like he enjoys regular offerings of course. But just using your free time to do craft something for him or do something for him he really appreciates. Writing your own poetry, studying, crafting, using your inspiration for workings, etc. divination or spellwork. He does play some playful tricks time to time.

Tarot:

Tarot cards I resonate with Oðin from my personal practice

Magician

Emperor

Hermit

Hanged Man

Death

Ace of Wands

[hiddengryffindor]

Wrapped around my finger (Sebastian Sallow x F!MC) WARNING: HARD SMUT

Summary: MC is currently in their seventh year, but during her fifth year, she made the fateful decision to betray Sebastian by turning him in. Now, it appears that he has managed to escape from Azkaban and has returned, seeking revenge. Will he make her pay for her betrayal, or is there another twist in store?

So yeah... I'm jus going to leave this here... Have a nice day <3

This one shot contains: bondage, a little too much of noncon, biting, fingering, p in v sex, spanking, choking, and a very dom sebby, use of the imperious curse for sexual intentions

ALL UNDERAGE CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP!

Word count: 10,455

I'm sorry if you see a few mistakes on the writing, English is not my first language

enjoy

Finally, after an extensive period of time, she had achieved mastery over her ancient magic, utilizing it to bring to life things that had once only resided within the confines of her imagination. Occasionally, she would venture to Hogsmeade, offering assistance to fellow witches and wizards in need. Her sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts were occupied with numerous responsibilities, as her professors were well aware of her exceptional abilities, and her classmates held her in high regard. Her proficiency in ancient and fundamental magic far surpassed her years.

The chilly autumn breeze tapped gently on the windows of the Gryffindor tower. It had already grown quite late, well past curfew. She found herself sprawled atop the large couch, positioned in front of the roaring fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. Her eyes remained closed, her face serene, while the dancing flames above her silhouette illuminated the room. Despite being the coldest of nights, the Gryffindor common room always exuded a warmth and coziness that she found irresistible. Although she had the option to utilize the Room of Requirement at any time, she couldn't resist the homely embrace of those walls and rugs surrounding her. A book rested upon her chest, rising and falling gently with her calm breaths, as she lay on her back.

Suddenly, her tranquility was disrupted by faint, rapid knocking sounds. She let out a groan and grasped the pillow beneath her head, covering her face with a wearied expression. This was her way of indicating to the prefects and head boys and girls that she desired peace and rest. She was well aware that it was late, but the comfort of the common room couch was too enticing. It was as if the couch would beg her not to depart whenever she attempted to rise, whispering, "Wait! Don't leave me! Let me embrace you a while longer!" A small smirk escaped her lips as she imagined the couch pleading for her company.

However, the knocking sounds persisted, quick and persistent, causing her to realize that this interruption might not be the work of a prefect or another student in the common room. She removed the plush pillow from her face and sought the source of the knocking. A cry from an owl drew her attention to one of the windows, where a black owl with golden eyes peered at her from outside the glass. She narrowed her gaze at the creature and approached the window, her expression marked with confusion.

With a swift flick of her wand, the window opened on its own, and the owl promptly flew into the common room. The girl could sense the bird's relief as its feathers were enveloped by the room's warmth. It perched itself on a small table filled with books and quills, fixing its gaze upon her. As the creature emitted a soft sigh, she noticed a message secured to one of its legs. She carefully took hold of the letter with one hand, while her other hand gently stroked the owl's black feathers. She attempted to open the letter, but it eluded her grasp, evading her every attempt. She let out a sigh, realizing that this was not the time for such games. Surely, it was Everett, attempting to prank her with bewitched letters. She seized the letter once more and directed her wand toward it. "Finite," she whispered, and the letter ceased its struggle against her grip.

Taking a seat beside the owl, she acknowledged that Everett had never employed a black owl to send her anything. In fact, none of her friends had ever done so. This newfound avian acquaintance was entirely unfamiliar to her. She peered at the owl while it groomed its feathers, a smirk appearing on her face. "Who has sent you, little one?" she inquired, receiving a faint howl hoot in response. She fixed her gaze on the letter, sensing a familiar aura and recalling memories from her fifth year.

A sigh escaped her lips as she reminisced about a missing presence among her friends. Sebastian Sallow, the Slytherin boy who had taught her the unforgivable curses, now resided in Azkaban. She and Ominis had made the difficult decision to turn him in—an action that had cost her a friend, someone with immense potential who had succumbed to the allure of dark magic and his own impulsive nature.

The echoes of Sebastian's screams lingered vividly in her mind.

"You both will regret this!" Sebastian's voice reverberated as he struggled against the aurors holding him in place. "I will come back, and I'll make you pay!" he bellowed, his voice strained. Ominis paid him no heed, refusing to even look in his direction. As for her, she locked eyes with Sebastian, witnessing nothing but rage and hatred burning in his brown orbs. "Especially you… I'm going to come back and make you—" Before he could finish his threat, an auror silenced him, and both he and Sebastian vanished from her sight.

She could have shed a few tears, but they never came. She knew that Sebastian's obsession with his research had put his best friend in danger. And considering she had known him for only a few months before he began to push her toward the dark arts…

No, he hadn't forced her into anything.

A gasp escaped her lips as a realization struck her. Throughout all the missions and perilous adventures, she could have said "No," avoiding all the troubles. Sebastian had never coerced her; he had merely extended invitations. It was her insatiable curiosity that had propelled her forward.

Shaking her head, she brushed aside those thoughts. The past was the past, after all. She shifted her focus to the letter and finally opened it. The paper was neat and the handwriting instantly recognizable.

"We must talk right now. Meet me in the Room of Requirement. Sebastian has escaped from Azkaban."

-Ominis

Overwhelmed by the contents of the letter, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity swelled within her. Sebastian's escape from Azkaban was a shocking revelation—one that ignited a cascade of unanswered questions in her mind. Why had he escaped? What did Ominis want to discuss? What role did she have to play in all of this? And why meeting her in the Room of Requirement instead of the Undercroft?

The flickering flames in the fireplace cast dancing shadows across the room, heightening the sense of uncertainty. She glanced at the black owl perched on the table, as if seeking guidance from the enigmatic creature. With a determined nod, she made up her mind. She couldn't ignore the call to action, the opportunity to confront the past and find closure.

Standing up, she gently patted the owl on its feathers before retrieving a cloak from the nearby hook. Wrapping it around herself, she concealed her identity and intentions as she ventured into the castle corridors. Each step carried her closer to the Room of Requirement, her mind racing with anticipation and a touch of trepidation.

The castle was eerily silent as she navigated the hidden passages, her footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone walls. Memories of past encounters with Sebastian flooded her thoughts. The dark arts, forbidden curses, and the inner turmoil he had instigated—each recollection reminded her of the price they had all paid for their choices.

Finally, she reached the seventh-floor corridor and approached the barren stretch of wall concealing the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Taking a deep breath, she focused on her intent, picturing the room she desired—the place where she would meet Ominis.

As if responding to her thoughts, the concealed door materialized before her, revealing the mysterious chamber within. Pushing it open, she stepped into the room. This time, the room manifested as a study, dimly lit with shelves lined with ancient tomes and parchment scrolls.

She gasped, her eyes widening as she took in the room before her. It bore no resemblance to her expectations. Gone was the familiar space she had envisioned, replaced by a chilling darkness that sent shivers down her spine. A sense of unease settled over her, freezing her in place. Before she could react, the door behind her slammed shut and vanished, trapping her inside.

"Ominis?" Her voice trembled with nervous anticipation, reverberating through the empty room. Her footsteps echoed, the only sound in the oppressive silence. In the center of the room stood a solitary table, devoid of any other objects. Her hand instinctively reached for her wand as Ominis' voice remained absent. She felt a surge of relief that she hadn't changed her attire before leaving the common room.

"Everett… Garreth… If this is another prank, I swear I'll unleash Rictusempra on both of you until you beg me to stop," she declared, her tone attempting to sound mature and intimidating. However, her words hung unanswered in the air, intensifying her growing unease. A few seconds passed, and a shiver raced down her spine as she sensed a presence behind her. A soft chuckle filled the room, causing her bravery to waver. She recognized that mocking, raspy voice instantly, even if it had matured over time.

"You…" Her words faltered, barely escaping her lips. "How did you…?"

"Escape?" The voice interjected, cutting her off. "I can't reveal all my secrets now, can I?" A mix of nostalgia and fear washed over her, leaving her frustrated. Finally gathering the courage to face him, she turned around, taking a few steps back, ready for any unforeseen actions. "Sebastian, where is Ominis?" she demanded, her voice laced with a threatening undertone.

Sebastian didn't answer immediately, his gaze locked onto hers. He looked almost the same, albeit taller than the last time she saw him. His expression remained neutral, his hair still disheveled. His unwavering gaze reminded her of the threats he had once made before the Aurors apprehended him.

"He is fine," he stated bluntly, his tone devoid of emotion. Her eyebrow arched in response. Sebastian chuckled, sighing as he shook his head. "I realized his family is punishment enough for him," he continued. She frowned at his words. "Allowing him to live, tortured by his family, is a more fitting fate than ending his misery with a quick death," he added in a cruel, detached tone. Relief washed over her; it seemed Sebastian was unaware that Ominis had reconciled with his family. At least he was safe.

However, she now realized that she herself was in great danger. Trapped alone with Sebastian in the Room of Requirement, which seemed unresponsive to her needs, it became evident that Sebastian's desires held greater sway over the room.

"Go on," he challenged, his arms crossed over his chest, his unwavering gaze fixed on her. There was no hint of a smile or his usual cocky smirk, only an expectant look. "I highly doubt the room listens to you anymore," he finally remarked. She shot him a defiant and enraged glare. "That's not how it works," she retorted. He shrugged, remaining motionless.

She wanted to demand what he wanted from her, but the answer seemed painfully obvious. Instead, she managed to ask, "Are you going to kill me?" Sebastian's expression shifted from neutral to one of intrigue, reminiscent of how he used to look at her during their first Herbology class, when Professor Garlick introduced her. He began to pace the room, his steps measured and deliberate, his eyes locked onto her. "No," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

Her relief was short-lived, for it was clear he had more to say. Sebastian retrieved his wand, deftly performing intricate wand movements as he advanced slowly toward her. "I want to torment you," he whispered, his words sending a chill down her spine. "I want to make you weep," he continued, taking another step closer. The room seemed to grow colder with each passing moment. "I want to hear you scream."

She tightened her grip on her wand, her apprehension mounting as Sebastian closed the distance between them. The atmosphere was thick with tension. "Then go ahead," she whispered defiantly, turning to face him with a challenging expression. "If you want to use the Cruciatus Curse on me, go ahead. I won't--"

"But I haven't finished," he interrupted, his voice rising above hers, halting her words in their tracks. "What would Professor Fig say if he knew what a spoiled girl you've become?" His words were laced with anger, but he quickly composed himself. Her fury intensified as he mentioned Professor Fig, as if he knew anything about her conflict with Ranrok.

"Regardless," he continued, his tone returning to its previous calmness, "as I was saying…"

"Expelliarmus!" she screamed, her wand pointed directly at him. In an instant, his grip on his wand weakened, yet it didn't flew off his hand. Sebastian's expression transformed from surprise to serene, a small smirk playing upon his lips as he nodded subtly from side to side. "Are you going to let me finish?"

"Sebastian, you have ten seconds to leave this room, leave Hogwarts, and leave me alone," she yelled at him, her fury drowning out his question. Sebastian leaned against a wall, his body relaxed as he smiled at her. "Or else?" he inquired, his old cocky smirk returning, as if he held the upper hand.

"You may not have the guts to kill me--"

"But I had the guts to turn you in, and I can do it again," she interjected. Sebastian's smirk vanished, his mind seemingly grasping the gravity of the situation. "Indeed… you did," he conceded, his voice now a low, whispered admission.

Sebastian's admission hung in the air, the tension between them palpable. Their eyes locked, each trying to gauge the other's next move. The room seemed to close in on them, amplifying their confrontation.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her—anger, fear, and a sliver of doubt. As much as she despised Sebastian, there was a part of her that remembered their shared past, the moments of camaraderie and laughter before everything went awry. But those memories were overshadowed by the darkness that consumed him, the cruelty he had shown. She couldn't let sentimentality cloud her judgment now.

With a resolute expression, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Sebastian, you're walking down a dangerous path," she warned, her voice carrying a mix of concern and determination. "Whatever twisted sense of justice you think you're pursuing, it won't lead you to anything but more pain."

Sebastian's face contorted into a bitter smile. "Pain is what I've come to embrace," he retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of regret. "You have no idea what I've been through, what I've endured." His gaze hardened, reflecting the turmoil within him. "But you will."

A surge of defiance coursed through her veins. She couldn't let him break her spirit, not after everything she had fought for. "I won't be a pawn in your game, Sebastian," she declared firmly, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her.

Sebastian's eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and admiration. A hint of the old spark that used to exist between them seemed to resurface for a brief moment. "Very well," he conceded, a glimmer of respect in his gaze. "Let's see if you're as formidable as they say."

The room crackled with an electric intensity as they circled each other, their wands raised in anticipation. Spells flew through the air, clashing with bursts of vibrant colors, filling the room with flashes of light. Each parry and countermove showcased their skill and determination. It was a battle of wills, a clash of two former allies turned adversaries.

Despite her best efforts, she found herself gradually being pushed on the defensive. Sebastian's prowess was formidable, his every strike precise and calculated. His determination to break her was evident in each spell he cast. She fought back with every ounce of strength she possessed, refusing to yield.

As the intensity of the duel reached its crescendo, a sudden surge of power emanated from Sebastian. His eyes gleamed with a malevolent glint as he unleashed a spell she had never encountered before. A dark energy crackled around him, swirling and twisting like a vortex of shadows.

Time seemed to slow as the spell raced toward her. Instinctively, she tried to conjure a protective shield, but it was too late. The spell struck her with a force that sent her sprawling backward, her body crashing against the cold, unforgiving stone.

Pain seared through her, each nerve screaming in protest. She struggled to regain her footing, her vision swimming with a mixture of pain and determination. Gasping for breath, she glared at Sebastian, her voice barely a whisper. "You… won't… break me."

Sebastian's eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and regret. His wand remained pointed at her, his grip unyielding. "We shall see," he hissed, the words carrying a chilling finality.

As darkness closed in on her consciousness, she fought to stay awake, clinging to the last vestiges of her strength. She vowed to herself.

Summoning her inner resolve, she tapped into the depths of her being, drawing upon the ancient magic that flowed through her veins. A surge of raw power emanated from her, swirling around her in a dazzling display of ethereal energy. It crackled and danced with an intensity that even Sebastian couldn't help but be momentarily taken aback.

With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed a torrent of ancient magic toward Sebastian. The force of the spell sent him hurtling backward, crashing into a nearby wall. But as the dust settled, he emerged, his expression twisted with a mixture of fury and determination.

Sebastian gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. He had anticipated her hidden well of power, and he knew he needed to neutralize it if he stood a chance of overpowering her. Drawing upon his own knowledge of dark arts, he began to weave a complex counter-spell, designed to disrupt and freeze the ancient magic coursing through her.

The air crackled with an intense clash of energies as Sebastian's dark counter-spell collided with her ancient magic. Sparks flew, casting an otherworldly glow across the room. She fought with every ounce of strength she possessed, trying to maintain control, but Sebastian's spell was relentless, seeking to bind and suppress her power.

Slowly, inexorably, her ancient magic began to falter. Its vibrant radiance dimmed, flickering like a dying flame. The weight of defeat settled upon her shoulders as she realized her efforts were in vain. Sebastian had found a way to subdue her most potent weapon.

With a surge of desperation, she launched one final, desperate attack, aiming to catch Sebastian off guard. But he was prepared, sidestepping her spell with an almost effortless grace. In that moment, her energy depleted, her defenses shattered, she knew she had been outmatched.

Time seemed to stand still as Sebastian closed in on her, a predatory smile playing on his lips. "You fought well," he sneered, his voice laced with a mixture of triumph and derision. "But in the end, your ancient magic was no match for my cunning."

Her body trembled with exhaustion, her muscles refusing to obey her commands. She tried to summon a defiant retort, but her voice came out as nothing more than a strained whisper. The cold, unforgiving stone floor beneath her became her final resting place as Sebastian stood over her, his victory assured.

As darkness enveloped her, she couldn't help but wonder where it had all gone wrong. How had Sebastian, her once-trusted friend, fallen so far? And what would become of her now, trapped in his clutches?

Her breath caught in her throat as she observed him drawing nearer, the shadows deepening around them. The weight of the situation bore down upon her, suffocating her hopes. Sebastian's countenance remained impassive, a mask of indifference, until a sly grin etched itself upon his face, mirroring the twisted dance of shadows. She passed out.

A surge of consciousness flooded her senses, and her eyes fluttered open. Gone was the comforting embrace of the common room couch, and the cold stone floor of the Room of Requirement. She found herself sprawled upon a table at the heart of the room, its hard surface chilling her to the bone. Her desperate search for her wand was interrupted by a haunting whistle that sliced through the air, directing her attention to Sebastian. He stood a few paces away, toying with her wand, manipulating it with a deftness that mirrored his sinister intentions.

Rising with a mixture of defiance and fury, she longed to confront him, to unleash her pent-up anger with a well-aimed blow. Yet, an insidious force seemed to tether her to the table, an invisible chain constricting her movements. Sebastian's voice, dripping with both amusement and malice, cut through the silence, prodding her discomfort. His gaze lingered upon her attire. Reflexively, she tugged at her shirt, only to discover the metallic links of a chain encircling her waist. Attempting to grasp it, her fingertips passed through the ethereal barrier, the physical and the intangible locked in an unsettling dissonance. "What have you done to me, Sebastian?" she demanded, her voice teetering on the edge of desperation.

Sebastian silenced her with a mere gesture, his voice a hushed admonishment. "Hush now... I merely sought to ensure that you couldn't rely on your ancient magic to extricate yourself from this predicament." Her feet found the ground once more, each step carrying her farther away from him. A profound emptiness settled within her, her magical essence snuffed out like a flickering flame in a gust of wind. The scene played out before her like a cruel mockery, for even if her wand were within reach, it would be an impotent tool against his malevolence.

"Stay away from me," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. She retreated further, his hand quickly relinquishing its grip on her wand, casting it into the abyssal darkness. "Why bother stifling my magic? The Cruciatus Curse alone would have sufficed to--" Once again, his laughter severed her words, an icy reminder of her powerlessness.

Sebastian's laughter echoed through the room, resonating with a chilling malevolence. It reverberated within her, fueling a mix of frustration and anger that threatened to consume her. She watched him, her eyes burning with a fiery determination despite the shackles that held her magic captive.

"Oh, my dear," Sebastian taunted, his voice laced with wicked delight. "Do you truly think I would rely on such a mundane curse to break you? No, no, I have something much more exquisite in mind." He approached her with a calculated stride, relishing the power he held over her.

Her heart pounded within her chest, a defiant rhythm that matched her unyielding spirit. She knew she had to find another way, a way to outsmart him, to break free from his clutches. Her mind raced, searching for a solution amidst the encroaching darkness.

"You see," he continued, his voice dripping with sinister amusement, "I have spent years studying dark magic, delving into ancient secrets that most wizards fear to touch. And now, my dear, I have discovered a method to suppress even the most formidable of magical abilities."

Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of defiance igniting within her. She refused to accept defeat, even in the face of overwhelming odds. With a surge of determination, she called upon her innate resilience, drawing upon the reservoirs of her ancient magic that remained dormant within her.

As she channeled her energy, a faint glow enveloped her body, like a shimmering shield against the darkness that threatened to consume her. She extended her hand, a torrent of raw power surging forth, aimed directly at Sebastian. But to her dismay, her magic dissipated into thin air before it could reach him, as if swallowed by an unseen force.

Sebastian's laughter intensified, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Did you truly believe it would be that easy? Did you think your ancient magic could overpower me?" His tone dripped with disdain, reveling in her futile attempt.

Defiance turned to frustration, frustration to desperation. She needed to find a weakness, a flaw in his plan. Her mind raced, piecing together fragments of knowledge, memories of ancient texts and forgotten spells. And then it hit her—a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

She closed her eyes, shutting out the world around her. Focusing her thoughts, she tapped into the deepest recesses of her being, drawing upon a forgotten incantation whispered by long-lost ancestors. The words formed on her lips, infused with a resolute determination.

The room trembled as her incantation reverberated through the air. A surge of energy pulsed from her, rippling outward in a wave of raw power. The chains that bound her magic quivered, their ethereal hold weakening with each passing moment.

Sebastian's eyes widened in surprise, his smug facade crumbling. He stumbled backward, momentarily disoriented by the force of her counterattack. The tables had turned, if only for a fleeting moment.

Sensing an opportunity, she seized the chance to act. Summoning every ounce of strength and willpower, she lunged forward, aiming to reclaim her wand and regain control over her destiny. But just as her fingertips grazed the hilt, a surge of dark energy emanated from Sebastian.

A wicked smile curled upon his lips as he pointed his wand at her, uttered a single word—a word that held unimaginable power.

"Imperio."

The air grew heavy with malevolence, and an invisible force seized hold of her, forcing her body to freeze in place. Her eyes suddenly now glowing when the spell hit her body, feeling a weird peace embracing her body.

Sebastian let out a frustrated sigh. "Surely, you have many tricks up your sleeve," he said, stopping right behind her. His head was now placed on top of her shoulder, his breathing touching her ear as he spoke. "But I also know a few old tricks."

Meanwhile, in her mind, she couldn't understand how, even under the Imperius curse, she was able to notice everything around her. However, she couldn't control her body anymore, only the warm and threatening breath of Sebastian on her ear. The sensation was too good, yet it felt so wrong. The spell gave her a peaceful sensation, while her conscience made her fear her surroundings. Her body wasn't hers anymore, but at least she still had her mind.

"Look at me," he demanded in a raspy voice. She slowly turned around to see him, her eyes shining with the curse upon herself. Sebastian smiled, but this was different from any other smile he had made before. It was a victorious smile, a dominant one.

"Sebastian," she managed to whisper. He placed a hand on her cheek, slowly rubbing his thumb on her face. She wanted to move away, but she couldn't. "What are you going to do to me?" His expression changed when she asked that question. She couldn't sense his plans now.

"Get back to the table," he demanded, but she fought the spell. Her body insisted on moving. "No," she said, giving the answer she should have given him three years ago on their first adventure. But suddenly, she was caught by Sebastian's hand around her throat, squeezing it just a little. "Get back to the table," he repeated slowly to her. Her body moved towards the table, and she sat on top of it.

She gasped for air as Sebastian let go of her throat, his hand now gently rubbing the spot where he had just held her. "You don't have a choice in this," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

She shook her head, trying to clear the fog from her mind. "I'll never be yours," she spat out, her eyes flashing with defiance.

Sebastian's grip tightened on her arm. "You'll learn to obey me," he said, his eyes glinting with a cruel light. "Or you'll suffer the consequences."

She gritted her teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her afraid. "I'll never obey you," she said, her voice trembling with anger.

Sebastian chuckled darkly. "We'll see about that," he said. "For now, I have other plans for you."

He pushed her down onto the table, her body splayed out before him. She tried to resist, but the imperius curse was too strong. She was powerless to stop him as he began to trace his fingers over her body, starting on her chest and then move slowly down her belly. A cruel smile appeared on his lips.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sensations, but it was no use. She was trapped, a prisoner in her own body, forced to endure Sebastian's unwanted advances.

He had her trapped, pinned against the table, his arms forming a barricade on either side of her trembling body. She fought to maintain her composure, her legs pressed tightly together, attempting to create a barrier against his advances. But his persistence was unyielding.

Leaning in, he traced a path with his lips, trailing delicate kisses along the warm skin of her neck to her chin. Each touch sent ripples of sensation through her, causing her to writhe involuntarily. His arrogant chuckle reverberated against her now sensitized flesh, stoking the fire of desire within her.

Sebastian, attuned to her body's reactions, swiftly discerned her feeble attempt at resistance. With a knowing smirk, he remedied the situation without the need for his hands. "Spread your legs," he commanded, his voice a velvet rasp against her heck, close to her ear. In response, her traitorous body obeyed, granting him access to the intimate space between her thighs. The room filled with the sounds of their mingled breaths and her whispered whimpers.

"Sebastian…" she pleaded once more, her voice a plea tinged with a mixture of desperation and hope. Her words hung in the air as his fingers traced a tantalizing path along her waist, descending down her leg, making her gasp at his touch. The fabric of her skirt, a cruel accomplice to her misfortune, offered little resistance as his finger tips journeyed toward her bare skin. Each inch of progress elicited a shudder and a sigh from her quivering form.

A feigned concern danced in his eyes as he feigned ignorance to her escalating arousal. "What's the matter?" he inquired, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Is it too overwhelming for you already?" he whispered into her ear, his breath teasing against her delicate lobe. Her breaths grew louder, more ragged. He invoked her name, a calculated maneuver to reclaim her attention. "I asked you a question," he murmured, his thumb grazing her exposed skin with a painfully slow deliberation. She instinctively turned her face away, seeking to evade his proximity, while simultaneously responding to his inquiry with a voice laced with a unique blend of longing and protest. It was a tone that only fueled Sebastian's sadistic pleasure, coaxing a wicked smile to form on his lips.

"I cannot… please," she implored, her voice barely a whisper, laden with a mixture of defiance and desperation. However, Sebastian's unrestrained hand seized her chin, forcing her back into his grasp. "This is my first--," she murmured, her voice tinged with resignation.

His fingers traced up her skin, tantalizingly slow, and then he pulled up the fabric of her skirt. Her heart raced as he reached her thighs. She was so lost in his touch that she didn't even notice him pulling out his wand. His biting and licking on her neck left red marks and bruises, and she couldn't resist the pleasure it brought her.

With a swift motion, the tip of the wand pointed towards her skirt and a ripping sound filled the room, accompanied by a gasp from her as she felt her clothing tearing apart on its own. "Seems your attire won't be much of a defense this time," whispered Sebastian with a sly grin.

He scrutinized her body, his mind contemplating his next move, until his gaze fixated on her eyes. "Do you want to hear something intriguing about the Imperius Curse?" he remarked, his hand gripping her thigh tightly, causing her to flinch from the sudden strength of his grip. "I can make you say whatever I want..." Her cheeks flushed with fear, and a look of apprehension washed over her face. "Wait, Sebastian!" she exclaimed, attempting to raise her voice, knowing he was about to make her speak against her will, but he silenced her by placing his hand over her mouth. "Shhh… there," she whimpered, attempting to pry his hand away from her mouth. "Calm down," he whispered, his tone so intimate and tranquil that it brought tears to her eyes. "I simply want you to look at me and beg for my forgiveness," he demanded, and she looked bewildered. "You know what I'm referring to." He removed his hand from her mouth and then placed it on her cheek.

His other hand began to slip beneath her blouse, but she promptly halted him with her voice. "I'm sorry…" she whispered, causing him to redirect his gaze back to her eyes while his fingers lingered on the warm skin of her stomach. "I'm listening," he stated, still desiring a more sincere apology. "I'm sorry for… betraying you," she whispered, avoiding his gaze. "For what? I didn't hear you," he taunted, resuming his movements. "I'm sorry, Sebastian! I shouldn't have betrayed you!" she shouted, and he abruptly ceased, allowing her to exhale and feel a sense of relief as he withdrew from her. "Good girl," he whispered.

"But you see," he continued, his tone almost conversational, "I don't just want you to say sorry. I want you to mean it. And to show me just how sorry you are."

Her heart rate quickened as she realized the true nature of his intentions. She tried to push him away, to fight back against his advances, but he was too strong. His hand covered her mouth once more, muffling her protests as he leaned in even closer.

"Let me show you what it really means to be sorry," he whispered, his free hand sliding up her blouse and tracing the curves of her body.

She whimpered, feeling trapped and helpless in his grip. But despite her fear and confusion, a small part of her couldn't help but feel a growing sense of excitement at his words. She knew it was wrong, that she shouldn't be enjoying this, but she couldn't help the way her body was responding to his touch.

And as he continued to dominate her, to make her feel things she had never felt before, she knew that she was his. Completely and utterly his, and that there was nothing she could do to resist him.

With a sly grin, Sebastian waved his wand, causing her blouse to rip apart, exposing her bare chest. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, relishing in her vulnerability. "Seems you made a poor choice today by not wearing a bra," he murmured in a deep, seductive voice. She didn't resist this time, which intrigued him. "Oh, how I adore it when you cease to run away," he taunted, but she paid no attention, trying to ignore is glare. He rolled his eyes, growing impatient. "Very well, if you insist on playing hard to get…"

He forced her gaze to meet his, their eyes locking intensely. "I would be delighted to hear you beg me to fuck you," he stated, and the curse took hold of her voice, knowing exactly what he desired.

"No…" she began, only to speak again, her voice now laced with desperation, "Please, Sebastian--" Her words were cut short as his fingers traced a path back down her thighs, lingering at the edge of her panties. "Go on, I'm all ears," he prompted, a wicked gleam in his eyes. She attempted to speak, the words barely a whisper, "Do it…" she pleaded, but he feigned ignorance, making her intentions clearer. Slowly, his hands eased her panties down her legs, exposing her most intimate self. "Fuck me…" she uttered, her voice filled with a mix of desire and defiance. "What was that?" he teased, his fingers now tracing along her inner thigh. "Fuck me!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the room. His smile grew wider, relishing in the power he held over her. "How do you want me to fuck you?" he inquired, his voice dripping with anticipation.

"I don't care," she retorted swiftly, her voice filled with urgency as the curse made her be honest. "Just get it over with." He chuckled, finding amusement in her impatience, and his fingers delved into the wetness between her legs, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as she bit her lip to stifle a moan. "I've barely touched you, and you're already a mess," he teased, taking pleasure in her vulnerable state. She glared at him with a mix of desperation and anger, but he merely shook his head with a smile. Using two fingers, he gently parted the lips of her throbbing sex, then began to caress her clit in slow, tantalizing circles, causing her legs to involuntarily close in response.

"Hey, I never gave you permission to close your legs," he commanded, spreading her trembling limbs wide open once again as her pleas and whimpers escaped from her trembling lips. "Stop fighting it..." She ceased her struggling when one of his fingers entered slowly inside her warm insides.

Moans of pleasure escaped her lips in tandem with each thrust of his fingers, a seductive rhythm that drove her wild. His gaze fixated on every nuance of her face, relishing in the symphony of expressions that played upon her features. The sound of his ragged breath tickled her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Each penetration of his fingers elicited a delightful squirm from her, her body surrendering to his skilled touch. Feeling how his finger went in and then out with a painful slow motion, along with the waves of pleasure each time his thumb pressed her clit.

As she attempted to utter words once more, he swiftly silenced her with a cocky smile, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, surprising her... but she just closed her eyes, the softness of his lips felt even better than the imperious curse. The warmth of their mouths melded together, and through the exchange of breath, soft whimpers escaped, blending with the fervent exchange. While his thumb continued its slow dance upon her sensitive clit, his finger explored the depths of her being with an achingly slow tempo, a tempting tease that heightened her desire. She could feel the mischievous curve of his lips against hers, his teeth gently biting at her lower lip, making her open her open her mouth, letting his tongue meet with hers, all while her head rested upon the cool surface of the table, her tousled hair framing her face in disarray. Aware of her unrestrained arms, a surge of hope surged within her, and she attempted to push him away, but the allure of the curse whispered in her ear, questioning her resistance. The pleasure he bestowed upon her was too intoxicating to deny.

A smirk danced upon his lips as he acknowledged her futile struggle. He paused the kiss, leaning back as a thin thread of saliva was the only thing that connect their mouths "Oh, how could I forget about that?" he remarked, observing her futile attempt to repel him. With a swift motion, he seized her wrists with the hand that had been orchestrating her pleasure, leaving her with a hollow ache as his finger abruptly withdrew. Resistance proved futile as he retrieved his wand, its tip gliding sensually along her leg, grazing her skin with tantalizing precision. From her leg to her waist, the wand traced a path of anticipation, then moved with a delicate shift to her belly, until finally, it pointed directly at her wrists. The words poised to escape his lips were familiar to her, their implications heavy with restraint. His fingers brushed against her wrists, now imbued with the wetness of her arousal, as he whispered, "Incarcerous." In an instant, a rope materialized, skillfully binding her wrists together. He guided her bound wrists to rest behind his head, drawing him closer to her, heightening the intimacy of their connection.

He reclined against the velvety expanse of her collarbone, his lips tracing a trail of fervent kisses along the slopes of her breasts. Her hands clenched the fabric of his shirt collar, her grip desperate yet filled with a longing that mirrored his own. A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes as he dipped his hand between her trembling thighs, fingers grazing the delicate flesh.

With a deliberate slowness, he penetrated her depths with two fingers, luxuriating in the sensation of her slick warmth enveloping him. Each movement was a carefully choreographed symphony of pleasure, orchestrated by the rising cadence of her ragged breaths. He curled his fingers inside her, angling them to elicit a gasp of pleasure, while his thumb caressed her swollen nub with a tantalizing rhythm.

The resounding symphony of her moans reverberated through the room, a testament to the electric current that pulsed between them. He relished the raw power he held over her, each stroke of his fingers evoking a crescendo of desire. Just as her climax drew near, he abruptly ceased his ministrations, savoring the exquisite frustration etched across her face.

A few seconds of maddening stillness hung in the air, teasing the edge of her yearning. And then, like a maestro returning to his opus, he resumed his movements, expertly navigating the contours of her pleasure. With each calculated pause, he reveled in the plea that escaped her lips, an intoxicating melody of need and surrender.

"Why..." she breathed, her voice laced with a mixture of confusion and desire. "Why are you doing this?" Sebastian halted his kisses, his gaze locking with hers, their lips a hair's breadth apart. A mischievous smile played upon his mouth as his warm breath mingled with hers.

"Do you mean why I deny you release before the pinnacle of pleasure, or why we find ourselves entangled in this intricate dance?" His voice was a seductive murmur, an invitation to delve deeper into the realms of their shared desire.

"I... I thought you said you wanted to torment me... to hear me scream," she murmured with innocence, prompting a chuckle from him. "Oh, I do want to torment you," he replied, his fingers delving deeper into her, moving with deliberate grace. "So... so intensely." Her back arched, and a sensual moan escaped her lips, tempting him to take her right then and there. "We're only just beginning," he paused for a few seconds, sensing her imminent climax. "I could prolong your pleasure each time you approach the edge..." His voice barely reached her ears amidst her pleas and whimpers. "But since I'm a gentleman... I'll allow you to choose your torment." Withdrawing his fingers, he moved her wrists away from his neck. Stepping back, she watched him in confusion, only causing her expression quickly transform from uncertain to a mixture of surprise and flustered anticipation as he removed his shirt. Now she beheld the body of the one about to consume her, covered with battle scars and freckles. Sweat already glistened on his skin, causing her to instinctively close her legs once more. She felt too vulnerable, too insignificant, too easily manipulated.

Drawing near, he placed his hand gently on her cheek. His expression evoked a disconcerting sense of wrongness, his desires felt tainted, and she never imagined him like this, not even once... and she was certain he hadn't either. Yet, as his thumb tenderly brushed her cheek with care and attentiveness, she couldn't help but become lost in that mix of ambition and determination reflected in his eyes. His caring countenance abruptly turned cold, reminding her of the reality that she was still ensnared by the imperious curse, still yielding to his will, still trapped with a murderer.

"Turn around and lay yourself on the table," he commanded, and this time her body yielded without resistance, as if under the sway of a new master. "Good girl," his words sent shivers coursing through her entire being. "Since someone is so eager to discover how I shall torment them..." He trailed his hand along the skin of her back, gradually descending. "Let's embark on the enjoyment right away." His hands came to a halt on her buttocks. Swiftly, she discerned what would happen next, snapping out of her trance. She looked over her shoulder, only to see him raising his hand. "S-Sebastian! Wait! Please!" The resounding slap filled the air, accompanied by a sharp gasp, reddening her cheek. "Fuck... you have no idea how much I longed to do this since the day they took me to Azkaban," he whispered, before another slap abruptly cut her off.

The exquisite pain electrified her senses, each contact of his hand against her skin sending tremors through her legs. "Not so powerful now, are you?" he whispered, surprising her with another slap. "Without your precious ancient magic... I wonder where that witch everyone idolizes has gone." His name escaped her lips as the next slap landed on her other cheek. "For here I stand, staring at her... so small... so weak." She bit her lip, suppressing another moan. "So exquisitely obedient," he finally remarked, delivering another slap that resounded in the room, yet she managed to remain silent. He raised an eyebrow, observing her, then smiled. "Ah, so you still put up a fight," he said, striking her once more, but even as her legs trembled, she refused to make a sound. "Even if I can't fight..." She whispered, turning her gaze to him. "I won't let you have me so easily, Sebastian

"Very well," he responded calmly. Then, his gaze shifted to her tightly closed legs, and a slow chuckle escaped him. "I'm starting to think you enjoy having me command you to open your legs." Her cheeks flushed as the imperious curse obeyed Sebastian's desire. Merlin's beard, she couldn't fathom why she felt even more nervous now. Despite already being penetrated and slapped, this position, presenting her red and sore cheeks to him, felt unbearably intimate. She sensed him lean closer between her spread legs once again, and instinctively, her gaze met his. However, he seized her hair and forced her face away, towards the wall in front of her, pressing her head against the wooden table. His other hand gradually moved from her legs to her inner thigh, discovering her profound wetness, with her juices starting to trickle down her trembling limbs. "Oh, darling... Are you that desperate for me to claim your virginity?" Her gasp at his words elicited a lip-biting response from him. Now in such close proximity to her body, she startled slightly as she felt something hard pressing against her throbbing center. Her heartbeat quickened as the sound of something unzipping reached her ears.

"Do you recall when I granted you the choice of your torment?" His voice resonated with a deep, urgent rasp. It was clear that a mere nod wouldn't satisfy him; he needed to hear her answer. And so, she nodded, seeking that intoxicating sense of pain, and it was delivered. His palm collided with her already tender skin, and this time, she didn't suppress her moan. "Oh, my..." Genuine surprise laced his tone. "Seems someone has embraced her rightful place... What prompted such a swift change of heart?"

She attributed it to the imperious curse—or at least, that's what she tried to convince herself. Deep down, both she and he knew that the curse had become superfluous; her body and mind had willingly surrendered to him. But she fought, not to liberate herself from this predicament, but rather because the sensation of him exerting control over her, dictating her every action, felt exquisitely intense. "Regardless," he continued, his victory evident in his smile. "As I was saying... I'll grant you the choice. Shall I continue denying your orgasms until you climax on my cock?—" He paused, his hands exploring her form, squeezing her breasts, teasing her nipples. "Or are you eager to discover how many times I can make you come?" He whispered into her ear. Her breaths echoed throughout the room as he awaited her response, her embarrassment palpable. But the imperious curse quelled her hesitation. "Well? I'm waiting... Or would you like to experience both scenarios?" Sebastian chuckled as the curse compelled her to vocalize her inner thoughts. "I... desire to witness how many times you can make me come... I need you to fuck me, Sebastian."

Magic truly was a wondrous thing. Her candid words slipped effortlessly from her lips, despite her attempt to conceal her flushed embarrassment. He required no further encouragement. She gasped when, this time, three of his fingers slowly entered her, the warmth of her depths meeting his touch once more, offering a mixture of painful relief and utter satisfaction. She bit her lip as he skillfully guided his fingers in and out of her wetness. She yearned to gaze into his eyes, but he forced her to avert her gaze, pressing her head against the table. Her moans intensified as his movements quickened and delved deeper. "Merlin... If only I could listen to those sounds every day..." He whispered, intoxicated by the symphony of her pleasure.

She surrendered herself completely, her eyes shut tight, her lips brushing against the table's surface. Sebastian had found the perfect rhythm, his fingers hitting that sweet spot deep inside her. A fervent desire coursed through her, urging her to break free from the confines of the rope binding her wrists. She longed to feel his touch, to grasp him, to witness the emotions playing across his face at this very moment.

"Please... Sebastian," she pleaded, her words catching his attention. But he didn't cease his thrusts; instead, he intensified his movements, pushing her further towards the edge. "Sebastian..." she called again, yet he delivered another forceful thrust, denying her plea. His voice carried a frigid edge, laced with a hint of mercy. She swallowed, gathering her courage, before she could beg him to grant her a glimpse of his expression. 

But as she spoke, a searing heat began to radiate from the depths of her womb, spreading downward between her legs. She grew closer to the peak of pleasure, her walls constricting around Sebastian's fingers. Her moans betrayed her, inflating Sebastian's ego. He turned her face to meet his gaze, delicately brushing away strands of hair that clung to her damp skin. He sought to capture every nuance of her expression in this pivotal moment. He didn't need to ask if she was nearing her climax; he could feel it, and she herself felt an unusual sensation, a mix of bliss and urgency that compelled her to act.

In the next few seconds, her moans filled the room, a symphony of ecstasy mingled with her desperate pleas. "I... I can't," she gasped, her voice fraught with a strange unease. "Sebastian, something feels off... wait, please," she implored, her words teetering on the edge of an admission she could no longer hold back. "I think I need to...," she trailed off, interrupted by Sebastian's hand placed firmly over her mouth, a sly smirk adorning his face. "Now, now... just let go," he coaxed, his voice coaxing her body to surrender completely. "Come for me... I want to hear you, every raw, uninhibited sound," he whispered, his encouragement fueling her release.

Her body quivered uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over her, flooding her senses. Her whimpering cries subsided, giving way to a deep, soulful release that consumed her entirely. She felt the warmth spreading, drenching her thighs and legs. Sebastian merely chuckled, withdrawing his fingers, while she struggled to steady her breath, her gaze averted from his penetrating gaze. 

"I must admit... I anticipated you would derive pleasure from this encounter, but I never expected such a fervent response," he remarked, a smug smile gracing his lips as she turned her attention away, unable to meet his gaze.

Just as she felt the rekindling of energy coursing through her body, Sebastian seized her by the waist and forcefully pulled her closer to him. This was far from over, and deep down, she knew it. After all, she had implored him to continue making her succumb to waves of pleasure, and he wasn't one to trifle with such requests. The next few minutes unfolded like a tantalizing dance between ecstasy and torment. He skillfully teased her most sensitive regions, coaxing one orgasm after another, each release more exquisite than the last.

While her senses soared on the wings of pleasure, Sebastian himself held back, grappling with the torment of his throbbing desire. He yearned to savor her completely, to claim her in a way that transcended the realms of mere physicality. As she lay there, breathless and drenched in perspiration, he pondered the threshold of their shared passion.

"I can't take it any longer!," she pleaded with Sebastian, her voice heavy with a mixture of exhaustion and longing. Yet, her words fell upon deaf ears as he seized her once again, defying her pleas, and positioned her atop the table, her back pressed against the unyielding wood.

At this point, even her ancient magic stirred, a feeble attempt to aid its wielder, but the ethereal chain encircling her waist rendered her powerless, its cold touch a constant reminder of her captivity. "I regret to hear your distress," Sebastian retorted, his eyes gleaming with a blend of mischief and revenge. With a flick of his wand, he revealed his intentions. "But my retribution is far from complete, and you shall endure it," he declared, his gaze fixed upon her womb. He pressed the tip of his wand against her, uttering an incantation too faint for her ears to discern.

Suddenly, an electrifying surge of warmth coursed through her, leaving her trembling and apprehensive. Fear etched across her face as she scrutinized Sebastian's wand. "What have you done to me?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mixture of anxiety and anger. "You will see," he responded swiftly, forcibly turning her back around to face the table's surface once more.

With a tantalizing display of dominance, Sebastian allowed his pants to slide down his legs, revealing his hardened desire. In a wicked twist of fate, her legs parted eagerly, as if driven by an unseen force, drawing a chuckle from his lips. She remained blind to his actions, her senses heightened with anticipation, until she felt an unfamiliar presence at the apex of her thighs. It was neither his fingers nor his tongue that greeted her, but a pulsating intensity that left her breathless.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins as Sebastian plunged his cock deep inside her, igniting a symphony of pleasure and pain that erupted in a fervent cry of his name. He held her head firmly against the table, keeping her at his mercy, while tears cascaded down her cheeks. His feigned concern was laced with sadistic amusement as he inquired, "Is it too much for you?" Yet, despite the overwhelming sensation, she managed to summon a whispered confession, "It's too big." Sebastian's smirk deepened, savoring the power he held over her vulnerability.

Part of him yearned to prolong the exquisite torment, to revel in her quivering need, but the hunger for fulfillment drove him forward. With deliberate, agonizing slowness, he began to move, each thrust a calculated symphony of pleasure and discomfort. His groans mingled with her intoxicating moans, their union a testament to the intoxicating blend of pain and pleasure. The tightness of her walls constricted around him, intensifying his own primal urges, urging him to push deeper, to claim her completely.

The room became a sanctuary of their forbidden desires, as Sebastian reveled in the sweetest symphony he had ever heard—her melodic moans. Triumph surged through his veins, knowing he was the first to possess her, and he intended to be the last. His teeth sank into his lower lip, suppressing the primal urges that threatened to consume him entirely. Each thrust of his hips became a declaration of dominance.

Every thrust sent delicious shivers coursing through her body, causing her to writhe with pleasure. In a moment of astonishment, she realized her wrists were no longer bound. Sebastian hastily broke the spell of the rope, urgently spinning her around until her back once again met the table. Her legs found their place on his shoulders as he continued his relentless penetration. Leaning in, he captured her lips with a hunger that mirrored their shared desire, and she surrendered to the intoxication of their kiss, her arms finding solace around his neck.

An exquisite ache reverberated through her as the tip of his cock grazed a tender spot, and in response, she raked her nails along his back, a feeble attempt to temper the explosive pleasure that consumed her. One of his hands tenderly caressed her face before descending to her breasts. Despite the stark contrast in their size and strength, the intimacy they shared felt nothing short of heavenly.

Amidst Sebastian's groans resonating in her ears, an unintended confession slipped from her lips. "I love you." The sudden halt in his movements sparked an uneasy sensation within her, as if she had crossed a forbidden boundary. "I... I'm sorry," she stammered, her body silently pleading for him to resume their passionate connection. "Say it again," Sebastian whispered, resuming his thrusts with renewed fervor, eliciting moans of pleasure from her lips. "Go on," he urged, his whispers dripping with temptation. "I love you," she repeated, her breathing growing labored as waves of pleasure washed over her. To her surprise, Sebastian savored her declaration, relishing in the raw vulnerability she displayed. "Tell me more," he entreated, his warm breath caressing her ear. "Please... let me hear you." His tone held a mixture of longing and sadness. Biting her lip, she obliged, her voice trembling, "I missed you... so much."

In that moment, he seemed to possess an intimate understanding of her desires, effortlessly guiding her deeper into the indescribable realm of lust that coursed through her veins. "I needed you so bad," Sebastian confessed, prompting her to hold him even tighter, desperate to bridge the distance between them. "I know," she whispered in response, their words forging an unbreakable bond. Suddenly, the scorching heat intensified, signaling her impending release, and Sebastian was keenly aware of it. With each thrust, he pushed himself deeper, but her hand on his chest implored him to ease his pace.

"Sebastian... we must stop," she uttered, her voice laced with a mixture of urgency and yearning. He sighed, his gaze fixed on her, exhaustion and hurt etched upon his features. "Why?" he queried, the tone betraying a sense of weariness. "Because... you," she began, her words interrupted by a moan as she struggled to compose herself. "I'll be pregnant..." Her words, tinged with embarrassment, ignited a chuckle from Sebastian, his favorite sound to hear. "What spell did you think I casted on your womb?" he inquired, expecting her to comprehend the implications. And comprehend she did, her cheeks flushing crimson as she nodded in acknowledgment. "You're too adorable, you know?" he whispered, his voice betraying traces of fatigue. "Now, just let go," he nibbled on her ear. "I yearn to fill you with my seed."

Unable to hold back any longer, she succumbed to the tantalizing torture that had built within her, a moan escaping her lips. It wasn't solely the sensation of her release that overtook her, but also the feeling of Sebastian's seeds surging inside her, flooding her with an overwhelming mixture of pleasure and satisfaction. Her entire body trembled as the hot, sticky essence filled her depths, her voice intertwining with his name in a symphony of bliss. In the throes of their mutual climax, Sebastian groaned, succumbing to the torments of his own pleasure.

As their bodies slowly recovered from their ecstatic union, they remained locked in an intimate embrace, their breathing gradually returning to a calm rhythm. The world around them faded into the background, their connection an oasis of shared vulnerability and desire. With whispered words of tenderness and the lingering warmth of their union, they reveled in the aftermath of their passion. As the waves of pleasure subsided, fatigue swept over her like a gentle lullaby. With a contented sigh, she nestled into Sebastian's arms, her eyelids growing heavy as sleep beckoned her. He held her close, his touch tender and protective, his fingers gently caressing her skin. The exhaustion from their intense encounter took its toll, and soon she succumbed to the sweet embrace of slumber.

Hours passed in blissful silence, their intertwined forms finding solace in the peaceful stillness of the night. Sebastian watched over her, his gaze filled with adoration and a touch of concern. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, his fingers tracing the delicate contours of her features, cherishing the serenity that now enveloped her.

As the first rays of dawn peeked through the window, gentle warmth danced upon her face, coaxing her back to consciousness. She slowly blinked her eyes open, her senses gradually awakening to the familiar surroundings. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she found herself lying on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, just as she had before the arrival of the black owl.

A soft smile curved her lips as memories of the previous night flooded her mind. She turned her head to find Sebastian sitting nearby, his eyes fixed on her with a mix of affection and relief. He had remained faithfully by her side, watching over her as she slumbered, ensuring her safety and comfort.

"Good morning," he whispered, his voice a gentle caress in the tranquil space. "How do you feel?"

Her response came as a languid stretch, her body still tingling from their passionate encounter. "Sore, but in the best possible way," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of confusion. "How did you--" She wanted to know how he managed to took her back into the Gryffindor common room, but she quickly noticed the current situation.

Sebastian chuckled, the sound carrying a mix of tenderness and amusement. "I'm glad to hear that. I was worried I may have been a bit too... intense." Then he saw how the morning was touching the common room. "Don't worry, I will leave soon"

She sat up, her eyes meeting his, filled with genuine worry... Yet she knew he hand all under control "You were perfect, Sebastian. More than I could have ever imagined." It was difficult for her to speak the truth after being soo long under he imperious curse.

A warm glow suffused his features, and he reached out to gently brush his fingers against her cheek. "You mean the world to me, you know that, right?" Her expression changed to a confused one.

"But I though you hated me" She whispered as her hand touched his. He chuckled and sighted. "I did... but then I started to understand I crossed a line... after I taught you crucio, after I manipulated you and Ominis to look the cure for Anne... after I killed my uncle" Her heart swelled with affection, a sense of belonging washing over her. "Everyone misses you... Even Ominis" she whispered, her voice brimming with emotion.

Sebastian leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss, a testament to the connection they had forged. As they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling.

"Rest now," he murmured. "We have a lifetime of adventures ahead of us."

With a contented sigh, she nestled back into his embrace, her head resting against his chest. As she closed her eyes, she knew she was safe and loved, and in Sebastian's arms, she had found her sanctuary. Together, they drifted into a peaceful slumber, ready to face whatever the future held, united in their love and the magic they shared.

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

hello!! i am peter, helping test the anon

AND ANOTHER REQUEST

HLC react to MC’s phoenix after they bring it to the RoR? I like to think MC would name him Eleazar :)

HLC REACT TO THE PHOENIX

MC holds their arm out for the majestic phoenix as it circles overhead. "Eleazar!" MC calls out and the phoenix gracefully decends. Its golden feathers glitter in the faux sunlight provided by the sanctuary within the Room of Requirement.

~~~

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: "You found a PHOENIX!? Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Wait...does this mean, YOU HAVE PHOENIX TEARS!?!?" He nearly falls over from the realization. They're holding the cure for Anne. The real cure. She can finally, truly be healed. He tears up and falls to his knees. MC kneels next to him and holds him with their free arm as he openly sobs with relief.

OMINIS GAUNT: He's never heard a phoenix call before. MC describes the bird to him and he nearly drops his wand. "Incredible. How did you- actually, don't tell me. I don't need to know what you had to do to find this beast. I worry enough about you as it is."

ANNE SALLOW: She sits on a rock with MC, standing too long is painful. The phoenix moves from MC onto her shoulder and leans it's head against hers. It seems to sense her pain and gives a mournful coo. She's about to ask about the bird's behavior when MC quickly takes a small vial from their pocket and holds it under the phoenix's face. It suddenly dawns on her. The phoenix is trying to heal her. It takes everything in her to not cry her own tears.

IMELDA REYES: "Is that beast real?" Her snarkyness can't disguise her genuine surprise. "I thought they were just tales, nevermind what's used as wand cores. Who knows how old those feathers are...so, how fast can it fly?" The phoenix gives her a challenging look.

NATSAI ONAI: "How magnificent!" She holds out her hand and the phoenix accepts her gentle touch. "You are just as special as I always knew you to be, MC. To have a phoenix's trust, how does it feel to be the universes favorite?" She laughs.

GARRETH WEASLEY: He's absolutely SALIVATING at he thought of a phoenix feather. Do they have one? Can he have one? Pleeeeese?? He will literally sell his soul for one. He is actually on his knees, begging. He has no dignity when it comes to one of the most rare ingredients on earth.

LEANDER PREWETT: He's still trying to wrap his head around this Room of Requirement, let alone the sanctuary. He can hardly believe what he's seeing. He doesn't know what to say or do. MC has officially broken him. He just gives a helpless shug and holds his arms out to the phoenix in a gesture of "how am I supposed to respond to this?"

AMIT THAKKAR: He's only read about them, books don't do them justice. The feather are far more vibrant and have this mystical flame like shimmer. It's almost indescribable. He's in absolute awe, but jumps a little if the bird moves in his direction. It's a powerful beast.

EVERETT CLOPTON: In his awe, he reaches forward too fast and the phoenix pecks at his hand. "Ow! Sorry, got a little carried away." He puts his nipped hand in his pocket and sticks to admiring the bird up close hands free.

POPPY SWEETING: Her jaw drops and doesn't come back up for a while. When she can find the words, she asks a billion questions in rapid fire succession. The biggest one being HOW they found the phoenix to begin with. "Bloody UNICORNS are easier to find!!" She is bound and determined to befriend the phoenix. She needs that beast cred bragging right.

ELEAZAR FIG: He smiles bashfully, hearing that MC has apparently named their phoenix after him. MC encourages the phoenix to sit on his shoulder and it puffs up as it gets comfortable. "This is a wonderful surprise, MC. Thank you, I am truly honored to be the name you put on this magnificent beast." He means it, his heart is full and fit to burst.

[ageravena]

After deciding to change the angels' (fairies) designs for what I hope is the last time (I've redesigned them like 6 times now HELP), allow me to introduce you:

Biblically accurate (Missionaries of Eden AU) Peri

So yeah! He got a new look (though his human form still stays the same)

Since I somehow managed to make my Peri look even less like his original counterpart, allow me to explain some of my design choices:

Probably the most notable thing about all my depictions of angel Peri and gang is that they're often quite unclothed. This is due to their belief that God (yes, they exist in the AU) had given their bodies as a gift, and thus it would be disrespectful to cover it. At the same time though, since they've concentrated their aid towards humans, they understand that they can't be completely naked

The head is their soul*, which resembles a flame (flames are sometimes used symbolically to represent souls)

The large feathers on the back ("tail") are meant to resemble a peacock's tail when closed (I had originally planned the angels to have more features that resemble real life birds)

The six wings and eyes on them indicate that he's a cherubim (seraphims have eight wings and thrones don't have eyes on theirs)

I will most likely make a separate post where I go more into detail about everything I've come up with for these little critters (trust me, there's a LOT of stuff)

Instead of wands, angels have their stars floating on top of them. Peri's star is inside a bubble similar to what he has in the show

The feet are a bit of a mystery to me still. I kind of like the look of them just having those stumps (there is no deeper meaning to it)

*in this context the soul of an angel/demon is the part where they're connected physically to God in the higher dimension (it might be a bit hard to understand, so I probably need to explain it in further detail later)

I was originally supposed to show Cosmo and Wanda's redesigns aswell, but since I'm currently a bit busy with irl stuff, I wasn't able to finish the sketches for this post (they're coming later, I promise). The demons (anti-fairies) were also redesigned!

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

May I quickly say how happy I honestly am of you. Since almost all my mutuals are elsewhere, I didn't really expect many people to come look at whatever I've posted, but it seems that I've managed to find my people anyway! So thank you all for all the likes, comments, reblogs and follows <33 I get so excited every time I get a new notification, teehee! (I read everything you have to say. Even if it's in another language)

I promise higher quality art will be coming in the future INCLUDING SHIP ART! Oh my goodness I have not drawn Peridale art in such a long time, I miss them SO MUCH!!!! GAHH I won't be able to call myself the number one Peridale blog soon bruh

Follow for more lifestock tips

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

I just suddenly had the thought; While Feathers, Flames and Wands (working title. It’s catching but feels cliche.) is based on the idea of Hawks and Dabi getting together early it would ACTUALLY be hilarious if it still happened when canon was going on and Harry is actually like ten/eleven. Mostly cause big brother Tokoyami comes to mind. And you know all the other crazy shit going down.

[cuffmeinblack]

Out of bounds

Part 2 | Part 3 | ao3 link for all chapters

Garreth Weasley x gn!reader

Tags: fluff | light smut | first kiss | sexual tension | general shenanigans 3.5k words

Summary: You agree to help Garreth sneak into his aunt's chambers to retrieve some confiscated notes. In an effort to spend more time with him, you ask him to come with you.

A/n: Later parts will be f!reader, but for now it reads as gender neutral. Also, surprise appearance by @ask-deek. Screenshot credit: @deathlysallows

Pink. Your potion was pink, when it should have been a soft mauve. If you’d spent more time accurately measuring your potion ingredients instead of staring at the back of your housemate’s head you might have produced a better result. You thought perhaps it could be salvaged yet, scraping a little more shrivelfig off of your chopping board and throwing it into your cauldron. You were so engrossed in the steadily paling mixture that you hadn’t noticed the presence beside you.

"You're good at being sneaky," Garreth said.

You stirred your potion, counting the clockwise rotations before responding whilst trying to suppress the blush creeping up your neck. 

"Am I?"

"Well you did get me that fwooper feather. And the dried billywigs. Back in fifth year, remember?"

"I remember, and you're not wrong. Why?" you asked, cocking your eyebrow.

"Could I borrow your services once again?" he asked, leaning against the table.

"What's in it for me?"

"Erm, well I'm sure I'll think of something," he mumbled.

You could certainly think of a few things Garreth could do to you that would repay the debt ten times over, but now wasn't the time to bring up your lewd fantasies. You made a show of sighing in concession before replying.

"What do you need me to do?"

Garreth gave a furtive glance over to Professor Sharp who was limping over to his store room, moving closer to you and lowering his voice. Your breath caught in your chest as he moved, your eyes running over his freckled face.

"My aunt confiscated some very important notes of mine and I need them back if I'm ever to finish my latest brew," he whispered.

"You want me to steal something from the deputy headmistress?" you asked with a frown.

"Well, yes, I suppose so. I think they're in her chambers…"

"You're not serious. Garreth!" you said far too loudly, glancing around to check nobody had heard your exclamation.

"Please."

You sighed and looked into his brilliant green eyes, annoyed that apparently you couldn't bring yourself to say no to him.

"Fine, but my payment is you coming with me," you said, returning to your chopping board.

"Wh…what?"

"You heard me. I'll get you in there and back out. Teach you what I know, maybe then you can do the dirty work yourself next time."

A convincing argument, somewhat skillfully hiding your true motive—in honesty you just wanted the excuse to spend time with him alone, away from the prying eyes of your friends and classmates. You already spent much of your free time in each other's company but always with the presence of Natty or Leander. As much as you loved your fellow Gryffindors, you always hoped for just a moment with just Garreth.

"I…well, okay," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "When shall we do it?"

"Tonight, whilst she's at dinner? I'll meet you outside the common room."

"Brilliant," he said, flashing you his widest smile, making your stomach flip over as he retreated to his own cauldron.

Your potion was on the brink of ruin as you swore and flicked your wand to lower the flame. Garreth was a distraction you could ill afford, and you’d just agreed to indulge your attraction by sneaking around the castle with him at night. You shook your head at your own stupidity whilst simultaneously feeling a giddiness wash over you, eager for your lessons to end.

The hours passed slowly as you waited in eager anticipation of your dinnertime excursion. With a bit of luck you'd be in and out of Professor Weasley's chambers within a few minutes and could be celebrating your victory sitting next to Garreth at the dinner table before long, perhaps even granting you a pat on the back or two. With a rumble in your stomach, you straightened your robes and gave yourself a quick peruse in the mirror before skipping down the stairs to the common room and passing through to the portrait entrance.

The shock of red hair greeted you as soon as you clambered through the tunnel into the hallway, your heart skipping a beat as you approached Garreth who was leaning against the wall, deep in thought. He always had a nervous energy about him, never staying still for long—his foot bounced on the ground until you came to his side, stilling as he caught your eye and flashed you a wide smile.

“Ready for our…excursion?” you asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied as you started walking.

"How are you at disillusionment?"

Garreth's mouth opened and shut silently as he cast you a sheepish look.

"Don't tell me you've never cast the charm?" you asked in surprise.

"Well, I've never really needed to," he replied. "I don't make a habit of sneaking into places I shouldn't."

"It can be useful. Really useful. Come on," you said.

Turning a corner in the astronomy tower, you came to a stop a short walk from the entrance to the trophy room and pulled out your wand, waiting for Garreth to do the same. Flicking your wand in the familiar spiral and muttering the incantation, your body shimmered and disappeared, leaving only a faint trace of your shape in the corridor.

"You're almost invisible," Garreth said, amazed.

He tentatively reached out and poked what you could only assume should have been your shoulder. Unfortunately, his aim wasn't particularly good on your translucent outline and his fingers gently prodded your neck instead. The touch was absolutely, definitely not meant to be intimate in any way, shape or form—but his warm, soft fingers brushing the skin below your ear sent shivers down your spine.

"Ah, sorry," he apologised, withdrawing his hand, a blush creeping onto his freckled cheeks.

"Get…get your wand out and try," you urged in a slightly strangled voice.

Garreth followed your instructions, tracing the wand movement elegantly and repeating the incantation. He flinched slightly before his body began to fade, flickering until his form resembled frosted glass.

"I wasn't quite prepared for that feeling," he chuckled.

"Oh, yes, it's cold isn't it? Like an egg being cracked on your head."

"Felt like a particularly cold flobberworm sliding down my neck."

You gave him an invisible smile and cleared your throat, readjusting your thoughts to the matter at hand.

"Come on, quietly now."

You crept silently down the corridor until you reached the towering spiral staircase that led all the way up to the headmaster's study. Professor Weasley's chambers were situated just below it, on the first floor. With careful steps, you climbed the staircase—not being able to see your own feet very well was disconcerting.

After a few minutes of slow creeping, you came to a stop outside of Professor Weasley's chambers, giving the door handle a wiggle on the off-chance she'd left it unlocked. No such luck—the door didn't budge. Drawing your wand, you pointed it just below the handle and muttered 'Alohomora', hoping your charm was powerful enough to open the lock. You let out a deep breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding as it clicked open.

Pushing the door open, you peered into the room, taking in the empty space with interest. You'd never been in here before—even when galavanting about the castle you tended to steer clear of your professors' living quarters. 

Garreth followed close behind you as you slipped inside, dropping your disillusionment charm once you were satisfied you were completely alone.

"I don't believe we did it! Merlin, this is exhilarating, isn't it?" Garreth gasped.

Garreth dropped his own charm and his smiling face came shimmering back into view, his eyes already darting around the room in search of his notes.

"Breaking and entering? Yes, it is quite the thrill," you laughed.

Your gaze tore from the redhead to scan your surroundings, admiring the paintings and ornate furniture dotted around the room. The decoration felt familiar, not worlds away from the cosy Gryffindor common room with its dark woods and plush fabrics.

Garreth had wandered off to search the mahogany desk whilst you were drawn to a large metal box on top of a sideboard. The lid was gilded, a beautiful pattern of roses and thorns embossed on the top. With a delicate touch, you removed it, finding a collection of random objects. 

One such object appeared to be humming—you could feel pulses of magic emanating from it, perhaps the reason you'd been drawn here in the first place. Your eyes darted at the rest of the contents until they fell on a stack of parchment.

"I think this is it," you said, pulling the papers from the box. "This is definitely your writing…what is this, Garreth?"

"Ah, just an experiment," he said evasively, crossing the room quickly and snatching the parchment from your hands. "Top secret, you know."

"Mhmm, is it likely to end with first years in the hospital wing?"

"That was…only one time. I didn't think about the reaction of…"

Garreth's hasty explanation was interrupted with a shuffle of footsteps and squeak from the door handle as both of you panicked and ducked behind the sofa. You pulled out your wand and screwed up your face in concentration, casting a non-verbal disillusionment charm which clearly wasn't as effective as your verbal incantation. You only hoped that the visitor wouldn't venture this far into the room.

Garreth had done the same, his shimmering form crouched next to you and leg pressed against your own. You couldn't tell who it was by just the footsteps but you heard a click-clack on the wooden floorboards that sounded like heeled shoes—most likely it was Professor Weasley returned early from dinner, and your stomach churned as you imagined the trouble you'd be in if you were caught in such a compromising position.

The moment you spent waiting seemed to drag on forever as the footfalls continued, until they finally receded. You heard the creak of hinges and thunk of the door closing, then another click of the lock. You realised you'd been clutching Garreth the whole time, your fingertips digging into his firm bicep. You loosened your grip as you steadied your breath, once again dropping your disillusionment charm. 

"We need to get out of here in case she comes back," you whispered.

Garreth looked slightly paler than he had done only moments before as he nodded his agreement. He glanced down to your hand still circling his arm, a faint flicker of a smile playing on his lips until you withdrew your fingers, averting your gaze. 

"Come on, then," you mumbled, crossing the room with your wand out.

A quick Alohomora should have had you out of there in no time, but the deafening silence that filled the room after you cast the charm sent a ripple of fear through your body. 

"Oh, no."

"What? What's oh no?" Garreth's panicked voice whispered from behind you.

"Alohomora," you said clearly, paying extra attention to your wand movement.

The lock didn't even twitch, stubbornly staying shut with every subsequent attempt until you were red in the face and flustered beyond belief.

"What has she done?" you grumbled, prodding your wand at the metal as if it would simply fall apart by sheer force of will.

"What if she put an anti-unlocking charm on it?"

"Why would she do that?!" you exclaimed, far too loudly.

Garreth shushed you as your heart and mind raced and you began to pace the room, wondering how you'd ever escape the situation with your academic record unblemished. He ran his hands through his copper locks, his eyes flitting about the room.

You sighed, suddenly feeling weary, flinging yourself onto the sofa and staring at the door as if it had personally victimised you. Garreth followed, sitting to face you on the seat.

"Maybe there's another way out of here," he ventured.

"What, you think your aunt has a secret passage in her chambers?" you said, your words dripping with sarcasm.

"There's no need to be snarky," he replied with a frown.

"This was your idiotic idea, Garreth! Now we're stuck in here for Merlin knows how long..."

"She'll be back from dinner soon, don't worry."

"I don't believe I went along with this just to spend time with you," you said, exasperated.

You only realised what you'd admitted to when you noticed his eyes widen in your peripheral vision as he watched you. 

"You did?"

You blushed and cleared your throat, throwing him a shy look to see his reaction. He was sitting with his legs crossed, grinning like an idiot. Damn his smile.

"No need to get cocky," you said with a poorly-concealed smirk.

"Why wouldn't I be, when the most beautiful person I know wants to spend time with me?" he replied, completely earnestly.

You let out an embarrassingly loud chuckle, your cheeks now burning. He was still watching you intently, leaning back on his hands and waiting for your reply. You weren't really sure if you could form a coherent sentence, especially since your mind had wandered to some particularly dirty places as you scanned his pose and wondered what his reaction would be if you simply sat in his lap.

You bit your lip nervously and shuffled on the seat, hoping for a distraction. It wasn't the one you'd expected, but the one you hoped for, in the form of Garreth's hand on your knee. A tentative touch as he watched you, stirring something in you that you could no longer ignore. 

You placed your hand on top of his and gave him a small smile as his eyes flicked to your lips, his head giving the slightest movement forward in his intention to kiss you. You waited, but he seemed to hesitate, so it was up to you to close the gap, pressing your lips to his as he inhaled sharply in surprise. 

The moment he reciprocated, tilting his head and parting his lips for yours, a swarm of excitable butterflies erupted in your stomach. Your mouths slotted perfectly together like a puzzle—warm, soft and oh…wet, as his tongue unexpectedly ran over your lower lip. You tried to suppress the whimper that formed in your throat, but it spilled out, captured by his parted lips. 

Garreth inhaled sharply, his hands twitching next to him. Perhaps his restraint was in part due to nerves, or the fact you were kissing on the sofa in his aunt's chambers, but it crumbled as soon as your tongues slid over each other. His grip was strong, his fingers encircling your waist and practically pulling you into his lap.

You had no intention of resisting—his lap was too inviting. You let him guide you towards him as your lips remained fused, settling onto his thighs with a soft sigh. His hair was just ripe for pulling as you ran your fingers through the strands, the smell of cinders and something distinctly sweet filling your nostrils. 

Toffee? Caramel?

You hummed as your mind hazily tried to identify the scent, your lips curling slightly into a smile as you kissed him. 

Whilst you explored each other's mouths and hands wandered, Garreth made his appreciation known with soft, low moans. It shouldn't have surprised you that he was as vocal as when he was chatting incessantly with his friends, but what was coming out of his mouth now was nothing short of deeply erotic. Each sound brought forth something desperate in you. 

Years of watching him, wanting him, whilst ignoring the racing of your heart and churning of your stomach, had culminated in this moment. The tension finally exploded into unbridled enthusiasm for each other's embraces. You hadn't considered he'd felt the same, but his passionate kiss gave you all the information you needed to know.

Your breath grew heavier as his tongue caressed your own, slow but firmly decisive with no hint of his previous restraint. He was everything you'd ever imagined and more, every fantasy you'd had paled in comparison to his very real touch. 

His hands had moved from your waist to somewhere much lower—a firm grip pulling you closer against his lap, his hips digging into your thighs. The unmistakeably hard bulge in his trousers pressed against you and your hips instinctively rolled against him, teasing a delicious groan from his mouth.

"Oh," you gasped.

Your hands were still tangled in his hair, gently massaging and tugging with every grazing of your lips when a loud crack filled the room. Your lips broke apart, eyes bulging in fear as you both looked for the source of the noise.

"Mister Garreth!" a voice squeaked from somewhere behind the sofa.

You clambered off of Garreth as quickly as you could as you saw a pair of huge eyes peering up at you.

"Deek!" you all but shouted at the elf.

You looked at Garreth in shock, taking in his dishevelled appearance and wondering what you yourself looked like. His skin was flushed under his numerous freckles, down his neck and tingeing his ears. You suppressed the urge to flatten his hair that you'd dislodged as you pulled your gaze back to the house elf.

"Deek thinks you shouldn't be in here," he said with a small hint of amusement.

"Please, Deek, please don't tell my aunt about this. I was just trying to get something back that belongs to me," Garreth pleaded, awkwardly adjusting his robes to cover his legs.

"Deek has seen a lot of things in his time at Hogwarts but students canoodling in a professor's chambers is a new one," he said, rocking back and forth on his tiny feet, his hands clasped behind him.

"I was just trying to help Garreth, we didn't meant to…"

"Deek won't tell Professor Weasley, but you must put back what you took."

You sighed and clutched Garreth's arm again. He looked slightly dejected and you couldn't help but roll your eyes—of course he would be focused on his lost notes rather than averting serious punishment.

"Where are they?" you asked.

Garreth reluctantly groped around in his robes and pulled out the now crumpled parchment, smoothing out the creases as best as he could and handing them to you. You pointed your wand at it as both Deek and Garreth watched you with interest.

"Geminio."

The parchment rustled and another piece of paper popped out on top of it—a perfect copy of the notes below. Garreth's mouth dropped open and broke into a grin, his glittering eyes meeting yours.

"Have I told you that I love you lately?" 

You laughed and returned his smile as blood rushed to your cheeks, your skin already burning. Your attention was diverted when Deek snatched a copy of the parchment from your hands and shuffled over to the box you'd found it in, tucking it inside and closing the lid with a little pat. 

"Hold Deek's hands and Deek will take you back to Gryffindor tower," he said, his arms already outstretched. 

With a raised eyebrow at Garreth, you both took one of the elf's tiny hands and braced yourselves before disappearing with another loud crack. The next sight you saw was the portrait of the fat lady, who jumped and gawped at you, apparently not expecting to see two students apparate in front of her with a house elf.

"That was much more comfortable than human apparition," you remarked.

"Of course. Deek thinks elf magic is much too undervalued by wizarding kind," he said simply.

"Right, well, thanks again Deek. We promise not to get anymore trouble," Garreth said.

"Oh, Deek very much doubts that. Until next time," he said, snapping his fingers and disappearing.

You couldn't help the laugh that came out of your mouth as you met Garreth's eyes and the fat lady tutted behind you. By the time you'd both controlled your laughter, the portrait looked incredibly unimpressed, her mouth forming a hard line as she looked down at you.

"Password?" she huffed.

"Conjunctio."

The portrait swung open in front of you and you clambered through the cramped hole in the wall, sighing with relief as you stepped into the safety of Gryffindor common room. Most people were still at dinner, with only a smattering of students occupying the space and paying you no mind.

You looked back to find Garreth standing just next to the door, running a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck and looking slightly awkward. You didn't like the look he was giving you, or avoiding giving you.

"So...Merlin…I, uh…sorry."

"Sorry for what?" you asked, your heart racing.

Did he regret what had happened? Of course the whole event has been a fiasco, but you couldn't bear to think that he'd deemed what had occurred between the two of you a mistake.

"Well I really ought to have taken you on a date before…that," he said.

"Oh. Do you want to take me on a date?"

"Of course I do," he said with a smile.

"Well, I'd love to go with you," you replied.

Garreth's smile widened into an excitable grin, his eyes full of ideas and possibilities. If your date was half as eventful as your evening had been, you were in for a wild ride.

[ticklishshenanigansau]

LaughterLand - Chapter 20: Witch

(story by Mod Secret, art by Mod Secret)

The old woman was plump and round. Her skin was a bright lime green with darker green freckles and liver spots dotting along her face and hands. She was slightly hunched over, like the top of her spine had been purposefully curved. Yet she moved with such an energy that didn't at all match her aged appearance. She wore a classic witch's attire with the pointed hat and dress, but the colors were the farthest thing from typical. Both her dress and hat were a warm pink color. The bottom half of her dress, as well as her pointed hat, were decked out in dark green stripes. The dark purple belt that was wrapped around her hat and her waist matched her curly elf shoes. Even her ears were elf-like as they curled up into a point.

She had the typical witch nose that was extra big and protruded far out from where her face began. But in place of the big wart that usually decorated the end of a witch's nose was a tiny little pale pink flower. Two more of the same kind of flower sat in the middle of the purple belts on her hat and waist. She had bright cherry-red hair that was kept as an unruly mess on top of her large head. Her nails were a shimmering dark lavender color, they were long and perfectly tipped, making them ideal for tickling. While it was clear that she couldn't have cared less about her hair or her toothy yellow smile, it was obvious that she valued her nails.

Her large and striking golden eyes sparkled with delight upon seeing the skeletons trapped within the coils of the Magenta and Lilac Snakes. She clapped her hands with utter delight before holding open the door to her cottage.

"Oh-ho-ho-ho!! Come in, come in, my precious pets! Please see to it that our new guests are nice and comfortable!" She giggled like a child that had just been given a new toy.

The brothers struggled uselessly as the snakes dragged them into the old cottage, they blinked as the warm glow of the lights stung their sockets. Once their vision had adjusted, they saw where the warm glow had been coming from.

Directly in the middle of the cottage floor was an enormous bubbling cauldron sitting in a makeshift fireplace, which looked to be a large hole in the ground. Flames wisped around the bottom of the giant pot, heating the strange violet liquid inside to a boil. The smell that engulfed the cottage was sweet, almost too sweet. Like someone had added gallons upon gallons of sugar to an already saccharine syrup.

On the right side of the cauldron was a large wooden table. A tall, slightly crooked black wand rested right next to a large pile of feathers. The feathers were bright pastel colors, large and exuberantly fluffy. Sans knew that they had to have come from the Squeal Owls, along with several other types of bird-like creatures from this place. But feathers weren’t the only terrible tools that this table was carrying. Off to the side there were hairbrushes, paintbrushes, toothbrushes, feather dusters, scratchers, and even a small vial looked to be carrying baby oil. Clearly she was well-versed in the subject of tickle torture. The brothers’ anxiety nearly hit the roof upon seeing her devious collection.

Laying against the wall on the other side of the room, were large wooden shelves that contained a multitude of glass bottles and vials. The liquid inside the little containers were a mixture of different colors and substances, some even glowing and sparkling with fire. Standing right next to the shelves were two large wooden stakes that were sticking straight out of the wooden floor. The snakes dragged the squirming brothers over to the stakes and roughly pinned them down against them.

Sans pushed and clawed at the Magenta Snake as he felt it shoving his spine against the thick wooden stake. He fought with all of his might, even threatening to bite down on its tail again if it dared to venture anywhere near his face. The Magenta Snake let out a sharp warning hiss that immediately got the attention of the witch.

“Tsk, tsk. Now this kind of behavior won’t do at all,” she tutted.

The witch grabbed the wand off of the wooden table. Light sparked out of the end as she gave it a swift flick towards the wooden stakes. A long strand of rope that had been hidden in the corner of the room came to life and started slithering towards the brothers. In a flash, the rope coiled around Sans's wrists, pulling itself into a tight knot.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Hey! Stop it! OW!!"

Sans panicked and struggled but it was too late. With a swift yank, the rope pulled Sans's wrists upwards, securing his hands over his head and tying him to the wooden stake.

"Can't have you giving my precious pets a hard time, can I?" The Witch beamed at her handiwork. With another flick of the twisted black wand, she summoned three more hidden ropes. One to tie Papyrus's wrists in the same position as Sans’s, and the other two to tie around their waists like makeshift seat belts securing them even tighter to the stakes. The skeletons squirmed and struggled against their new bonds, much to the witch's entertainment.

"Relax, Bone-Boys," she teased after an outburst of amused cackling. "Enjoy your stay at the Old Dropwart cottage."

"D-Dropwart?" Papyrus stammered nervously.

"That's me, deary!" She approached him with a burst of energy that startled him into shaking. "They call me Old Witch Dropwart, now doesn't THAT have a nice ring to it?" She cackled again, her high-pitched laughter echoing off the cottage walls.

"Um … it's … v-very um...." Papyrus stuttered and trembled, unsure of what to say and terrified of saying the wrong thing.

"Nasty," Sans finished for him with a blunt and bitter tone. "Nasty? Gross? Disgusting? Appalling? Do I have it about right?"

To his surprise, with every unfavorable word he used to describe what he thought of her name, her smile grew wider and prouder.

"Oh, why thank you, my deary!" She gave Sans a playful little curtsey with her striped skirt. "It's a family name you know, passed down from generations. Why … have you ever heard of the Hemlock Water Dropwort?"

She looked eagerly at the brothers, as if hopeful for an answer. Sans just stood there silently glaring at her while Papyrus timidly shook his head.

"Why! It's one of the most deadliest flowers in the whole world!" she eagerly explained. "Consuming such a plant has led to such countless gruesome deaths!"

She let out another shrieking cackle, one that caused the skeletons an even greater deal of anxiety. She just seemed so unnaturally cheerful talking about such a grim subject.

"But what was the most fascinating thing about these victims … was that they were all found with such adorable ear-to-ear smiles." She demonstrated with her own rotting toothy grin. "It was as if it had caused them all to DIE LAUGHING!!"

She doubled over in hysterics, recalling the terrifying tale. Sans and Papyrus observed her, utterly horrified, she was truly crazy. Was this what she had planned for them? Was she going to force them to die laughing, true to her namesake? The brothers pulled even harder against the magical ropes.

"Please...!" Papyrus strained. "Please no!! Y-Your snakes have already attempted to tickle us to death!! We can't take anymore!!"

"What?!"

Dropwart's demeanor suddenly changed to one of annoyance. She turned back to her serpents who seemed to have a look of guilt upon their faces.

"Oh you naughty little worms!" she scolded, bopping them both on the snout with her wand, causing them to recoil. "You know better than to snack on my fresh ingredients! You get your own food at dinnertime!"

The snakes looked at her with sorry eyes, reminiscent of a puppy getting yelled at for not listening to its owner. They both slinked away back into the corner of the room while Dropwart turned her attention back to the brothers.

"I am dreadfully sorry about them, my dears." She gave them both an insincere look of concern. "Sometimes they just can't resist…." She approached the brothers with a devious grin as she very purposefully eyed their exposed tickle spots. "You two must be particularly delectable sources of food!"

She made a show of greedily licking her lips before turning towards her shelf. She grabbed a handful of empty glass vials and placed them across the wooden table before turning towards her bubbling cauldron. She gave the bright violet liquid a steady stir causing the overly saturated sweet smell to engulf the air with renewed life.

"You stay away from us!"

Sans growled once she stopped stirring to give the cauldron a deep inhalation. She looked back at him, her toothy grin turned halfway up in amusement.

“Oh, not to worry, my deary!” she smirked. “I’m not about to spoil my new source of ingredients!”

“You keep calling us that,” Sans retorted bluntly. “What are you even talking about?”

“S-Sans���,” Papyrus stammered in a hushed tone. “Don’t make her mad! You know what it means, she’s going to devour our laughter just like everybody else!”

Sans wasn’t entirely convinced. If she was as tickle-crazy as their previous adversaries, she would have been on top of them by now. Why all this prep work? Why the cauldron? Why the empty vials? She was planning something else.

Sans squinted his eyes to get a closer look at the glass vials, he noticed that they were all labeled … now if he could just see what was scribbled on the parchment. The larger vial that was closest to the edge of the table was the only one Sans could read clearly. It read; ‘Hysterical’. The one next to it was a lot smaller, Sans lurched his neck forward to try and read it. It looked like it spelled out the word; ‘Tittering’.

As she went back to the table to fumble around with the order in which she wanted the vials placed, Sans could make out one that she had grabbed in her hand. It read; ‘Belly Laughter’. Finally it dawned on him, the prep work and the strangely labeled vials started to make sense. She wasn’t about to consume their laughter … she was about to collect it!

“There we go!” she said once she had organized the vials on the table to her liking. She grabbed the smaller one at the end of the line and approached the brothers eagerly. “Let’s start off with this one, shall we?”

Anxiety flooded Sans’s chest, he tried to read the label, but it was clutched deeply into her green speckled hand. Papyrus whimpered and tugged at the ropes as he panicked.

“Wh-What are you gonna do with us?!” he practically shrieked.

“Well isn’t it obvious my dear?” Dropwart replied in a playful manner. “Why I’m going to tickle you, of course! Now where did I put that wand?”

"Oh no! No! No! Please don't!! I'm begging you!!"

Papyrus shrieked as he strained against the ropes. Sans gritted his teeth scowling at the giggling witch as she reached for her wand.

"Don't you EVEN dare!" he spat angrily. "Don't touch him or I swear I'll—"

Sans was cut off by the craziness he saw unfolding in front of him. With another flick of the twisted black wand, the pile of pastel feathers stood up on the wooden table before proceeding to levitate into the air. They hovered together in a colorful cluster just above Dropwart's head as she grinned maliciously at the skeletons.

“Now here’s a fun little game I want to play with you boys.” She pointed the wand at the brothers, her toothy grin growing wider with mischief. The feathers, in turn, aimed themselves in the same direction causing Sans and Papyrus to tense up with anxiety.

“Just try and keep your laughter in!”

She let out another shrieking cackle as she directed the horde of levitating feathers to swarm after the skeletons. Sans shut his eyes tightly as he felt the bristles of the soft Squeal Owl feathers starting to brush against the back of his knees. He moved to kick his leg out, but the rope bound him too tightly to the stake. He stood there helplessly as two more feathers brushed against the sides of his skull, tickling at his ears, cheeks and jawbone.

He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying his best to hold back the laughter. The soft tickling on his gentler spots would have otherwise elicited a lot of giggling out of him, he began to wonder why she wasn’t immediately going for the dangerous spots. As grateful as he was that the soft tickling wasn’t completely unbearable right off the bat, it was still irritating. He tried his best to scrunch up his neck and toss his head around, but whichever way his skull moved, the feathers followed.

Sans peeked open one eye to notice that the same thing was happening to Papyrus. His ears, cheeks, and neck were all being targeted. He didn’t even have to look down to know that there was a group of feathers also aiming behind his knees. Much like him, Papyrus was also trying to hold it in and squirm away. It wasn’t until an extra fluffy feather moved to the front of his throat to start swishing around that Papyrus let out a strained giggle.

“Nyehee…! Heeheeheehee…!” He still tried so hard to hold back, Sans could feel his toes thumping against the wooden floor. It didn’t make too much of a difference. Many more feathers moved to brush against his neck and collarbone, Papyrus, in response, choked back a squeal.

“Agh…!! Nyahaha…!! N-Nohoho! Eeek!! Heeheeheehee!!”

The feathers on Sans’s side also began fluffing along his throat and collarbone. Sans felt the laughter starting to bubble up in his chest, but he swallowed hard, refusing to immediately be undone by such soft and gentle tickling. He barely released small spurts of breath as his bones jerked around from the buildup of pressure.

“Ohhh! Look at that!” Dropwart began bouncing on her toes excitedly. She held the vial close to Papyrus’s face, a look of anticipation in her eyes.

Sans kept his sockets locked on Papyrus, making sure she didn’t do anything more to him. That’s when he realized something had changed. A stream of what looked like red smoke was pouring out of Papyrus’s mouth as he continued to snicker. It was phosphorescent and moved like it was purposefully trying to escape from him. Suddenly, it turned to the direction of Dropwart’s bottle. The direction of the strange red smoke dove straight into the glass vial, filling it up in an instant.

“Excellent!” she exclaimed as she fastened the cork onto the vial’s opening, quickly trapping the red smoke inside. “I just knew you’d be the first to break!”

She gave Papyrus a playful wink before giving the wand another flick of her wrist. The feathers around them stopped tickling and fell lifeless to the floor. Both brothers immediately gasped for air, though it didn’t take them long to once again regulate their breathing. After everything they had been through, the soft feather tickles were basically nothing more than a gentle warm-up.

“Pap! Are you okay?” Sans asked worriedly. He didn’t know what that smoke meant, or how it would affect him. But to his relief, Papyrus seemed perfectly fine.

“I…. I think so,” Papyrus replied quietly.

He too was terrified to know just what they were dealing with. The brothers watched as Dropwart placed the now glowing red vial onto the table before grabbing another one.

“What did you do to him?” Sans demanded boldly.

“Oh, you mean this?”

Dropwart gave the older skeleton a cheeky smile before reaching for the red vial again to give them a better view of it. As she approached with the little glass bottle in hand, Sans could finally read the label, it said; ‘Tittering’.

“This kind of brew requires a total of seven different kinds of laughter,” Dropwart explained as she dangled the vial of Papyrus’s tittering laughter in front of them. “And you boys are gonna help me get every last drop!”

She hurriedly placed the red vial back onto the table before proceeding to remove the cork from the next vial in line. Both brothers stood there, terrified and utterly dumbfounded. In this world, laughter wasn’t just a main food source, it could be used as a physical ingredient like any other piece of food. The idea that she was milking their laughter out of them like a dairy farmer did to a cow was terrifying enough, but what wouldn’t stop ringing in the brothers’ skulls was the fact that she had said she needed ‘seven different kinds of laughter’. What did that even mean? It was seven different kinds of crazy that was unfolding right before them, and all they knew was that they didn’t want to be here for any of it.

“No! Please! Please don’t do this!!” Papyrus started panicking once he got a good look at the other vials on the table. “Please! W-We don’t taste good, it’s not worth it!! We’ll give you indigestion! Let us go!!”

While Papyrus struggled and pleaded, Sans could only glare. He knew it was of no use now. The way she was clutching the empty vial and looking at them, one way or another she was going to drain the laughter out of them, and there was nothing they could do to stop her.

“Oh, such nonsense dearies!” Dropwart chuckled. “Even your simple snickers are worth their weight in gold. You two have just what I’m looking for!”

She suddenly placed the empty vial on the shelf next to them. She held up both of her hands, the mischievous look on her face never faltering.

“But … if you need a little more energy … I bet I can give you a hand!”

With two distinct popping sounds, Dropwart’s hands completely disconnected from her wrists and jumped down to the floor crawling around like two giant lime green spiders.

Sans and Papyrus practically jolted out of their bonds in surprise. Being skeletons, they too could disconnect their hands and feet when necessary. But this was the very last thing they had expected from a being of flesh and blood. Her wrists didn’t appear hurt by this at all, they were just left as two green stumps at the end of her arms. Clearly, she had done this before.

The two disconnected hands immediately scurried towards Papyrus, quickly crawling up his legs and heading towards his upper body with intense speed. Papyrus shrieked and cringed with disgust at the sight, but as the perfectly-tipped nails made contact with his ribs, he found that he couldn’t stop himself from giggling.

“EEK!! Ahaha! No! Nyahahahaha!! N-Nohoho! Get them off meheeheehee!!”

The hands stopped just under opposite sides of his underarms. One hand began crawling across the entirety of his ribcage with lightning speed. The other one stayed put, scratching under his right underarm.

Papyrus giggled frantically and tugged at the restraints. The idea of being tickled by uncontrollable disembodied hands made him horribly uncomfortable, and to make matters worse, they were both highly skilled when it came to tickling.

“Nyahahahahaha!! Pl-Plehehease!! Hahahaha!! Please stahahahap!! Ahahahaha!!” he pleaded, squealing every time a nail would graze a sensitive spot on his ribs. “Plehehehehehease!! This—ahaha!! Th-This is ahahahahawful!! Nyahahahahaha!!”

Sans looked on in horror as the hands tickled mercilessly at Papyrus’s upper body. He pulled at his own restraints, a newfound resolve taking hold of him in wanting to rescue his brother. But no matter how hard he pulled, the ropes wouldn’t budge an inch. He looked back at Papyrus, expecting to find the same smoke trailing out of his mouth for Dropwart to collect. But to his surprise, nothing was happening. She didn’t even have a vial ready, her hands were too busy tickling Papyrus.

Sans sharply turned as he heard a subtle hissing sound. The Magenta Snake was looking at him, a look of greed dancing in the light of its piercing eyes. Sans felt himself starting to squirm as the snake began slithering towards him. He kept his sockets locked on the serpent, wishing with all of his might that he could kick at it, lunge at it, do anything that would scare it away, but it continued to creep towards him, feathery tongue flicking away teasingly.

“St-Stay back!” Sans timidly snapped. The snake continued moving forward, completely ignoring his warning. “I mean it! You stay away!”

At last, the Magenta Snake lay in front of him, only a few inches away. If Sans wasn’t bound to the wooden stake, he would have been able to reach out and touch it. Or more specifically, reach out and punch it in the nose. For what felt like an eternity, he and the brightly colored serpent just stared at each other, the reptile refused to blink or look away for even a second. That’s when Sans realized … it was quiet. Papyrus’s laughter had ceased, and the younger skeleton was now taking deep inhalations.

In the heat of the moment, Sans suddenly felt two very distinct hands start digging into his underarms, tickling away with reckless abandon.

“WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AHAHAHAHAHA!! NO—NAHAHAHAHA!!”

The older skeleton erupted with laughter as the disembodied hands scribbled mercilessly at his defenseless underarms. He wasn’t even aware that a bright blue smoke was trailing out of his mouth until he felt the hands lifting away from his sensitive tickle spot and start crawling down the sides of his body.

As the hands reconnected with Dropwart’s wrists, she giggled to herself as she reached for the vial to collect the second type of laughter from Sans.

“Ohoho! The old ‘distract ‘em, attack ‘em’! I just love that one!” she beamed proudly at the Magenta Snake as it nuzzled its broad snout into the side of her dress. “Nicely done, my pet!”

The blue smoke emitting from Sans’s mouth immediately funneled into the glass vial before Dropwart sealed it up with another cork. Sans read the label just before she was able to take the glass bottle back to the table. It read: ‘Outburst’. Sans growled bitterly at the old witch, he felt so played. If only he could tell which kind of laughter she was going for next, maybe he could find a way to predict what she was going to pull next to drag it out of them. But she was clearly experienced with this kind of thing, he knew she wasn’t going to simply let slip what her next move was.

“That’s two!” she cheered as she placed the glowing blue vial next to the red one. “Now, I think I’ll need something special for this one.”

The brothers watched in helpless anticipation as she pondered over the various tools laid across the wooden table. They held their breath, wincing with fear whenever her fingers would graze across a particularly deadly-looking instrument.

“Ah-ha! That’s the ticket!” She held up a large paintbrush, twirling it around in her fingers before staring intently back at Papyrus. “I think this will work nicely on you.”

To an extent, the skeletons were relieved that it hadn’t been something worse like the hairbrush or the toothbrush. But still, the bristles on the end of the paintbrush looked to be incredibly soft, and not knowing what she was planning still left them in a state of panic. Papyrus whimpered and squirmed as she approached him, still twirling the paintbrush between her fingers.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, deary,” she said in a soft tone, motioning for the Lilac Snake to come slithering next to her. “I’m afraid these old bones of mine are too tired to be bending over.”

POP!

Papyrus gasped, his eyes wide with a look of complete shock and horror. At first, Sans didn’t know what had happened. He just stood there watching Papyrus’s expression suddenly change, his Soul nearly froze not knowing what was going on. Then he noticed the tail of the Lilac Snake slithering away with something wrapped up in its coils. Sans, in turn, let out a shocked gasp when he realized what it had … it was Papyrus’s left foot.

With little effort or risk, both brothers are able to physically remove parts of their bodies. Once their chosen appendage is disconnected, however, they are unable to move them around until they are properly reconnected with the rest of them. They can still feel everything that happens, which meant that Papyrus’s foot was now totally helpless and in the clutches of a tickle-hungry witch.

“Oh no … no!” Papyrus whimpered as he watched the Lilac Snake drop his foot into Dropwart’s open palm. “No! You can’t!” He started uselessly pulling at the restraints again, panic engulfing his bones.

“Give him his foot back, right now!” Sans growled, also struggling hopelessly against the ropes.

“Oh, I’ll give it back … after I do this of course!” She gave the underside of Papyrus’s toes a quick swipe of the paintbrush. As expected, the bristles were incredibly soft, and unbearably ticklish.

“EEK!!” Papyrus shrieked.

“Pap! Hold your breath!” Sans instructed.

Papyrus did as he was told, inhaling a deep breath into his cheekbones. Both of them knew that it wasn’t going to last, and it most certainly wasn’t going to deter Dropwart from trying. But it was the only thing either of them could think of in the heat of the moment.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Dropwart eagerly swiped the paintbrush under Papyrus’s toes again. The younger skeleton’s eyes bugged out as a tiny whimper snuck out of him. She continued the motion of dragging the paintbrush back and forth under his toes, greedily eating up every single one of Papyrus’s muffled reactions.

“My, my, my!” she cruelly teased as she began wriggling the bristles between his toes. “You can’t move at all, can you?”

More than anything Papyrus wanted to curl and wiggle his toes. Even though it would do nothing to alleviate the horrid tickling sensations, the physical venting would at least help a little. But to his dismay, his toes remained still and practically lifeless. Helpless to every swipe and bristle the tickling paintbrush had to offer.

Papyrus threw his head back with his sockets shut tight. He lightly banged the back of his skull against the wooden stake as he trembled. The paintbrush wasn’t the worst tickle tool in the world, and his feet weren’t as ticklish as places like his spine or upper body. But more than anything, he just didn’t want to give Dropwart any more of the ‘ingredients’ that she needed.

“Just hang on, Pap,” Sans quietly encouraged him, though he knew the worst was yet to come.

“Well, if you’re gonna be stubborn, then I’ll just have to get you up here, then!” Dropwart pulled the paintbrush out, and proceeded to brush along the tops of Papyrus’s toes. “Tickle tickle tickle!” she teased.

“Nyaaaaaaah!! Ahahahahahahaha!! Ohohoh nooo!! Hahahaha!! Nonononononohoho!! Nahahat thehehere!! Heeheeheeheehee!!”

If Dropwart’s teasing coos weren’t enough, the tops of Papyrus’s toes were even worse than the underside. Although he wasn’t in a position where he could freely bend his toes anyway, he knew that even if he could, he wouldn’t have been able to use them to protect the tops of his toes.

“Ha! I knew that would getcha!” Dropwart cackled. “But that’s a little bit much for me, deary. I’m afraid I’m gonna need something a little bit lighter.”

To their surprise, Dropwart moved the paintbrush back down to the underside of Papyrus’s toes. She swirled and swiped the bristles under and between them, causing Papyrus’s laughter to soften as he released frantic spurts of giggles.

“Eeeeheeheeheehee!! Nohohohoho!! Quihihihihit it!! Nyahahaha!! It-It stihihihill tickles!! Heeheeheeheehee!!” Papyrus chuckled as his upper body squirmed.

It didn’t make any sense to either of them. Clearly the tops of Papyrus’s toes were more ticklish than the bottom side, so why switch it up after finally getting him to break? Sans figured it out once he started seeing the red smoke pouring from Papyrus’s mouth again. She wasn’t yet after the boisterous laughter like for the vial that read ‘Belly Laughter’. She was still warming them up for that by collecting softer chuckles. Sure enough, the vial that collected Papyrus’s red smoke read; ‘Giggling’.

Then Sans got to thinking. His own toes were a lot more ticklish than Papyrus’s, what would have happened had she gone after him instead? She wouldn’t have been able to get any of his giggling, that was for sure. She seemed to know the exact spot that would elicit the perfect giggle from his brother, but the question was how?

“Now let’s see…,” she pondered after placing the full vial of smoke next to the others. She turned to look back and forth between the two skeletons before settling her eyes on Sans. Grinning deviously, she grabbed the next empty bottle in one hand before handing Papyrus’s foot back to the Lilac Snake.

“Please see to it that this gets returned my dear,” she said slyly, never taking her gaze off of the older skeleton. “I do believe I need something from this one now.”

Sans couldn’t help but squirm, she hated the way she was staring at him. Such greedy hunger in those piercing golden eyes. Her toothy grin ensuring nothing but mischief and mayhem. He could just tell, she was going to have way too much fun with whatever she was planning to do with him.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, I’m not interested,” Sans retorted boldly, still glaring at the old woman with utter disdain.

“Oh, you don’t have to be, deary. All I need from you is your precious laughter!” She stopped in front of him, teasingly wiggling her fingers directly over his body.

Sans tensed up, the physical teasing affecting him more than he cared to admit. He half-expected her hands to pop off again, or for the levitating feathers to come back to life. But to his surprise, she lunged for him, tickling at his ribs with her hands still attached.

“AAGH!! Ahahahahaha!! Nohohohohoho!! Hahahahahaha!! Get ahahahahaff!! Hahaha!! Get off of meheeheeheehee!! Ahahahaha!!”

There was no hope of holding back for this one. Sans’s ribs were horribly sensitive, and Dropwart’s perfect nails were well-practiced and skilled in the tickling technique. It was a dangerous combination for the poor laughing skeleton.

“Aww, does that tickle, deary?” Dropwart teased as she skittered her nails along the different parts of Sans’s ribcage. “Well, what about here? Yeah? And here? Oh, that must tickle a LOT, huh?”

Dropwart’s verbal teasing was already causing Sans’s sockets to tear up, he was so caught up in the unbearable laughing fit that he didn’t even notice. He hated how sensitive his rib bones were, they never failed to throw him into a blind panic.

“Stahahahahahap ihihihihit!!” Sans screeched. “Dohohohohon’t—ahahahaha!! Don’t—Dohohohon’t tehehehehease!! Ahahahahahaha!!”

“Leave him alone!” Papyrus shouted, still trying his best to break free.

“Oh, don’t worry, deary, we’ll get to you later.” Dropwart smirked at the younger skeleton. “Now where is that spot, huh?”

Although it was clear that she was having a blast tickling at Sans’s ribs with her own two hands, it became clear that Dropwart was in search of something. Papyrus would notice how much time she would spend on one particular spot before turning to another spot giving it that same vigorous treatment. He wasn’t sure what it was she wanted out of Sans, but she wouldn’t stop teasing and tickling him until she would get it.

“Plehehehehehehease!!”

Sans laughter started trailing off into desperate-sounding wheezes. He didn’t know if that’s what she wanted out of him, but at this point he would have done anything to give her the next missing ingredient. Just to make the torture on his ribs stop.

“Plehehehehease!! Please stahahahahahap!! Ahahahahaha!! I-I cahahahan’t…!”

Dropwart finally let her hands up as Sans fell into silent laughter. Her giddy expression of enjoyment was replaced by one of confusion.

“I just don’t get it,” she replied, looking the older skeleton up and down. “I just know that was supposed to get you snorting.”

Sans inhaled sharply, suddenly it made sense. She was after his snorting spot. He felt the spaces in between his ribs starting to tingle just at the thought of it. He silently prayed that his subtle reaction hadn’t immediately tipped her off to where the spot was located. His mind buzzed with confusion. How could she possibly know that his snorting spot was located around the ribcage?

The sharp hissing sound of the Lilac Snake jostled Sans out of his racing thoughts. It eagerly slithered towards Sans without silencing its hissing dialogue. Sans glanced over at Dropwart, who had turned her head towards the serpent listening intently. A sinking feeling of dread began forming in Sans’s bones as he remembered what the serpent had done to him before dragging him to the cottage.

“Well, you don’t say!” Dropwart exclaimed, turning back towards Sans with a knowing smirk on her face. “Alright my pet. Proceed.”

Before Sans had a chance to protest, the Lilac Snake once again shoved its enormous head under Sans’s shirt.

“Oh no! No! No—AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Sans shrieked with renewed laughter as he felt the familiar feeling of the snake’s feathery tongue slipping between his ribs. “NAHAHAHAHAHA!! STAHAHAHAP!! N-NAHAHAT AGAHAHAHAHAIN!!”

Sans erupted with a fit of snorting laughter. Every sharp inhale was met with a louder and louder burst from his nasal cavity, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to control it

Dropwart eagerly collected the blue smoke that poured out of his mouth in little bursts. It was a slightly larger vial than the rest, so she cruelly took her time filling it up to the brim. She fastened the cork onto the glass container firmly before giving the Lilac Snake a steady pat on the back.

“Thank you, my pet. I believe that will do.”

The Lilac Snake gave Sans one last harsh little hiss against his ribs before slinking out of his shirt to return to its owner’s side. Sans shrieked in response before falling limp against the wooden stake. His body greedily swallowing huge gulps of air, as he tried to blink away fresh tears.

“H…. How…?” he breathed out, his question causing Dropwart to pause. “How … did you … know … about … my ribs…?”

“Well … why don’t you take in a deep breath and hold it?” Dropwart replied with a coy smile. Sans responded with an unamused scowl, obviously not in the mood for any more tricks. “Go on,” Dropwart insisted “Take a big breath and hold it until it feels as though you could burst.”

Sans was hesitant, almost certain that this was another one of her schemes to get more laughter out of him. But still … he wanted answers, and it wasn’t like there was anything they could do to stop her. So he inhaled sharply, holding the air within his cheekbones. At first nothing happened, he could feel the pressure starting to rise in his chest, so he clenched his fists together in an attempt to ignore it. He suddenly heard Papyrus take in a sharp inhalation of his own.

“Sans…,” his brother said, shakily. “You’re … glowing.”

Sans’s sockets flew open, he looked down at his body. Sure enough various areas of his body were glowing that same violet color as the sweet-smelling liquid in the cauldron. Some spots were showing up more intensely than others. His underarms, which was one of his most sensitive areas, was glowing brightly. Meanwhile, less ticklish spots like his hips were much more dull in terms of light.

Sans looked up to see Dropwart proudly patting her cauldron, and it all made sense. Ever since stepping into this cursed cottage, Sans and his brother had been inhaling the overly-saturated sweetness of that bubbling potion. Now with the aroma firmly planted into their system, Dropwart could see clearly which spots of their bodies were the most ticklish.

In a total panic, Sans looked down to where the grooves of his back were located. Sure enough, his most ticklish secret spot was the most illuminated part of his body.

“It’s my most favorite spell.” Dropwart beamed down at the bubbling potion. “I never do anything without it. Now … shall we continue?” She picked up another vial from the wooden table, along with her twisted black wand.

As she approached the struggling skeletons, Dropwart looked back and forth between the brothers and the vial. Her expression pondering and perplexed.

“Hmm…,” she hummed in thought. “This will require some belly laughter, but … it looks like we don’t have bellies to work with, my dearies.”

“See?” Papyrus immediately spoke up. “I told you we didn’t have what you needed! Now let us go!”

“Right!” Sans added. “No bellies, no belly laughter, nothing you can do about it!”

“Oh no?” Dropwart’s smile returned slyly. “I can see those spines of yours aren’t too ticklish on their own … so maybe we can just fix that.”

She swiftly grabbed a hefty burlap bag off of the top shelf. Holding it open, Sans could see a sparkling pink substance on the inside. Immediately it reminded him of the fairies’ Tickle Dust and he started to panic.

“What…. What is that? What is that?! What are you doing?!” He pulled and pulled at his restraints. Despite knowing full well that he wasn’t going anywhere, fear completely overtook him and all of his actions.

Dropwart dipped the twisted black wand into the bag of sparkling powder and steadily swirled it around. When she pulled it back out, the wand was coated in the pink glittering powder. There was no doubt in the skeleton’s minds, she had her own special supply of the dangerous dust, and she was going to use it at full force.

She aimed the now sparkling wand at the brother’s midsections and gave it a gentle flick. The pink glittering substance flew from the tip of the wand and landed with an audible ‘POOF’ onto both of their spines.

Laughter exploded out of the skeletons, they could physically feel their bodies shake and jolt with every powerful inhale and exhale that pounded out of them. It was the strangest sensation feeling how immensely ticklish their spines had become, and with nothing there to even be tickling them no less.

While Papyrus had always struggled with how sensitive his spine was, as it was closest to his sweet spot, the sensation was all too new to Sans. Now it was on the same playing field as his underarms, and he absolutely hated it.

As the skeletons flopped around hysterically laughing in their bonds, Dropwart immediately grabbed the larger vial to collect the red and blue smoke that was practically flooding out of the brothers’ mouths. They opened their jaws to let out tearful screams of protest, but all that came out of them was more helpless laughter and more phosphorescent smoke. Dropwart took her sweet time filling up the vial, clearly relishing every moment of watching the poor skeletons writhe in ticklish agony. A look of sickening satisfaction spread across her face each time she heard one of them let out a strained squeal or a breathy cackle.

She loved this, being the cause of their delicious misery, and ultimately being the one that could put an end to it whenever it suited her. Such power looked to be just as intoxicating as the laughter she was forcing out of her victims. The red and blue smoke swirled around in the glass vial, mixing into a bright purple color. It was almost identical to the violet bubbling potion in the cauldron, though not quite exact.

Dropwart secured the cork onto the nearly overflowing vial of laughter, but didn't yet stop her spell on the brothers. Instead, she leaned forward, taking a deep and satisfying breath. The red and blue smoke traveled effortlessly up the nostrils of her long, lime green nose, and left her with an expression of unadulterated bliss. At last, she gave the wand another gentle flick, causing the Tickle Dust and all of its aftereffects to disappear with a 'POOF’!

Sans and Papyrus panted so hard they both started coughing due to the rapid inhales hitting the back of their throats. They wheezed and spluttered, desperately trying to regain their normal breathing again. Exhausted and anxious, they looked up to see Dropwart placing the purple vial next to the others, wasting no time grabbing the next one in line. There were only two left, and neither of them wanted to know what it took to extract the last two forms of laughter.

“These last two are most definitely my favorite part of the job,” she mused, playing with the second-to-last bottle in her hand.

By the devilish look in her eyes, the brothers could just tell that this was going to be very bad. She stood between the two of them, carefully looking each one up and down. Sans felt so exposed and vulnerable, knowing full well that she could see every inch of their tickle spots on full display. Finally, she stepped in front of Papyrus, causing the younger skeleton to shake with anxiety.

“I’ve had such fun watching you giggle and wriggle around!” Dropwart cooed, teasing Papyrus by tenderly tracing a finger down his skull and neck.

Papyrus whined and tried squirming away from her touch. Fury flashed in Sans’s gaze, watching his brother be toyed with this way. He knew better than to waste his energy struggling, but he couldn’t seem to help himself whenever Papyrus was at risk.

With another twirl of the wand, the pastel feathers that were still resting on the floor around them came back to life. They purposefully hovered over Papyrus as the younger skeleton let out a quiet whimper of fear. He flashed a desperate look at Dropwart as the witch spoke with a teasing tone again.

“That spot right there, is it? Where the hips meet the spine?”

Papyrus’s jaw dropped in horror, immediately he began to panic and fight against the ropes with everything he had. Dropwart grinned evilly, her suspicions confirmed by his reaction.

“NOOOOOO!! PLEASE!! PLEASE DON’T!!” Papyrus pleaded, tears already falling down his cheeks. “I’LL DO ANYTHING!! JUST PLEASE NOT THAT!!”

Sans in turn pulled even harder against the ropes, growling and grunting with frustration.

“Don’t you dare!” he threatened. “Don’t lay a single finger on him!!”

Dropwart only chuckled in reply. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that, deary … that’s what these are for!”

With another flick of the wand, the large group of feathers danced and swirled and twirled around Papyrus’s secret sweet spot. The younger skeleton was immediately lost in a spasming fit of laughter, screaming, crying and thrashing. Completely hysterical and unable to utter a single cohesive word.

“NYAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!! N-N-NAHAHAHAHA!!! AGH!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STAHAHAHA…!! PL-PLE-AHAHAHAHAHA!!”

It didn’t take long for the red smoke to immediately start pouring out of his open mouth. Dropwart wasted no time funneling it into the large vial, Sans could see the label on the glass container read; ‘Hysterical’. The look of utter delight spread across Dropwart’s wicked expression, as she watched Papyrus struggle and suffer.

Sans pulled so hard, he could feel the rope burning into his bones. But he didn’t care, he had hoped with all of his might that witnessing Papyrus being tortured like this would be the motivation he finally needed to break out of the restraints. But even with his growing resentment towards their new kidnapper, it wasn’t enough to break free. Exhausted and hanging limp against the stake, he watched his brother hopelessly laugh and scream in unbearable ticklish agony.

“Let him GO!!” Sans growled over the sound of his brother’s hysteria.

“All in due time, deary.” Dropwart giggled, watching the vial fill up with Papyrus’s glowing laughter.

“Come … on!” Sans grunted, still struggling against the ropes. “Get off of him!! Don’t touch him, you ugly old crone!!”

In an instant, Dropwart’s face changed. The giddy smile across her face dropped to one of shock as she turned to give Sans a wide-eyed expression. At first, her change in demeanor startled the older skeleton, but he kept his gaze on her spiteful and steaming with hatred. He finally said something that got under her skin, he wasn’t about to take it back now.

As the vial filled to the brim, Dropwart kept her gaze on Sans as she placed the cork on top. Before giving her wand another wave and commanding the feathers to stop, her eyes narrowed to a disdainful expression towards Sans. She glared at him with an intensity that almost matched the one he had for her. As the feathers dropped to the ground again and the room was filled with the sound of Papyrus gasping and coughing for air, Dropwart faced Sans, her voice suddenly low and menacing.

“I think you will be the one to fill the last vial, then.”

Ordinarily, this would be the part where Dropwart would turn away to place the full vial on the table and retrieve another. But this time, as she gripped the glowing red container in her hands, she brought the feathers to life again with another flick of the wand.

In an instant, the pastel cluster of fluffy feathers dived under the back of Sans’s shirt, intruding in from the top of his collar. Just as he had feared, the intense group of feathers headed straight for the grooves of his back. They swished and twirled and brushed and dragged along his ultra-sensitive spot, tickling like mad.

“AAAAAAAGGHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AHAHAHAHAHA!! NAHAHAHAHA!!! AAAGH!!”

Sans didn’t even try to beg for mercy this time, he knew that this was just her petty revenge for calling her ugly. Bucking and thrashing his body around did nothing to deter the feathers from attacking his vulnerable spot. Tears flew in every direction as he cackled and screeched in total anguish.

To make matters worse, Dropwart didn’t even move to grab ahold of the final vial. She just stood there, evilly watching Sans writhe in ticklish agony with a glaring smirk across her face.

“This is what you get for being rude to your hostess, deary!” she cruelly taunted.

It took a solid minute before Papyrus regained enough breath to properly hold his head up straight. His breathing was still ragged and strained but was steadily returning to normal, at least until he saw Sans. Although he couldn’t see the feathers as they were perfectly hidden down his shirt, the way Sans was struggling combined with the look on his face told him everything.

“What…. What are you … doing?!” Papyrus tried to scream, but his body was too weak from breathing so hard. “You…. You already got … the worst spot … out of me!! L-Let him … go!”

“Oh yes, deary, I got the hysterical laughter from you,” Dropwart replied in a patronizing tone. “But from him, I think I’m gonna need something just a bit more pungent.”

She finally turned back towards the table to replace the full vial with an empty one, leaving poor Sans a laughing, screaming, crying mess. Tears flung in every direction as he rapidly shook his head. Nothing alleviated the flaring tingles that left his body absolutely wracked with laughter.

“Oh Sans….” Papyrus felt so helpless, standing there watching him suffer. More than anything he wanted to break out of the bonds to rescue his brother. Exactly how Sans had always tried to do for him.

It seemed to take forever before Dropwart returned with the empty vial. The minutes went by like hours for poor Sans. His throat was positively worn down and on fire from the shrieking laughter that tore from him. Surprisingly, it hadn’t yet manifested into smoke for Dropwart to collect. A horrified thought raced through the skeleton’s already dizzy mind. What if she needed to do even more to tickle him in addition to getting after his worst spot? If she aimed for any other spots like his feet or underarms, there was no way he could take it! This was already pushing him past the brink of insanity.

He tried to let out a terrified scream, but to his horror, nothing came out but a barely audible squeak. Dropwart looked on eagerly as Sans dissolved into silent laughter. It was so strained and so quiet, they could hear the dripping sound of Sans’s tears hitting the wooden floor.

“There it is,” Dropwart eagerly whispered.

Eventually something finally did spill out of Sans’s mouth, the phosphorescent blue smoke. This time it seemed to glow brighter than any form of laughter that had come out of the brothers before. Sans could only take short little inhalations before practically choking to cough out the quiet chortling.

Thankfully, once the vial was filled to the top with the glowing blue smoke, Dropwart waved her wand to finally put an end to the tickling feathers. Sans inhaled so deeply his bones began to shake. The lingering tingles of the feathers dropping from the back of his shirt caused leftover laughter to come pouring freely from his mouth. His body wracked with quiet sobs and still-bubbling chuckles that threatened to torture him even further.

“Shh, it’s okay Sans,” Papyrus gently comforted. “It’s over, everything’s gonna be okay.”

He wished more than anything that he could reach out to physically comfort him. Poor Sans was so exhausted and weak. Even the act of crying was too strenuous for him to take. Before Dropwart turned back to the table to complete her collection, Papyrus got a good look at the label of the last vial. It read; ‘Silent Laughter’.

With all seven glass vials filled to the brim with the glowing laughter, Dropwart giddily reached for the wooden spoon still resting in the cauldron of bubbling potion. One by one she added each container of laughter, watching the potion hiss and bubble with each new change to its formula. The echoes of the skeleton’s laughter reverberated off the walls of the cottage with every ingredient that was added.

Papyrus watched on in horror, fearful for what she was planning to do with that deadly-looking brew. Sans’s head still hung limply in place, though he was too exhausted to look up, he could still hear the sounds of the contained laughter as Dropwart added them to the mixture. The overly sweet smell of the potion once again overtook the cottage, the aroma was so strong that it almost made Sans sick to his nonexistent stomach.

After what felt like forever, Sans finally had enough strength to lift his head, his breathing slow and steady. He blinked the tears and blurriness from his sockets to see Dropwart pulling out the large wooden spoon from the cauldron. She had scooped up a small amount of the still steaming potion in the spoon. She gently blew cool air over it that immediately extinguished the steam. She gave the violet liquid a satisfied sniff before turning back to the exhausted skeletons.

“It’s ready,” she said eagerly. “Now who wants a taste?”

[syaolaurant]

VIOLETTE LAURANT (HL MC Profile)

I tried something new today - painting in (not so) realistic portrait of Violette. Took abit time to study cuz it's not my usual style >"<.

I'm so happy to see many of you are interested in my MC even though I've just joined the fandom for a week. Thank you so much (//ω//)!!! So here's some information about Violette (I tried to keep it short and simple but it still turned out abit long...).

Name: Violette Laurant

House: Hufflepuff

Birthday: 20th November

Nationality: French/British (She can speak French, so she didn't have to ask  Scrope to pronounce the password).

Wand: Sycamore Wood, Phoenix feather, 12 ½" Length, surprisingly swishy flexibility

The sycamore makes a questing wand, eager for new experience and losing brilliance if engaged in mundane activities. It is a quirk of these handsome wands that they may combust if allowed to become ‘bored,’ and many witches and wizards, settling down into middle age, are disconcerted to find their trusty wand bursting into flame in their hand as they ask it, one more time, to fetch their slippers. As may be deduced, the sycamore’s ideal owner is curious, vital and adventurous, and when paired with such an owner, it demonstrates a capacity to learn and adapt that earns it a rightful place among the world's most highly-prized wand woods.

A wand with this flexibility will either surprise its owner by being surprisingly loyal or surprisingly unloyal and is most often known for doing the unexpected. It is usually great for charm work. Owners that are matched with wands of this flexibility are usually the type of people who have a hard time coming out of their shell or opening up, but once they do, others will find themselves drawn to their charming, fun-loving personalities. The owner usually adapts well to unexpected changes but may find it difficult to make hard decisions.

Patronus: CAT

PERSONALITY MBTI: INFP Positive traits: Loyal and caring (she's Hufflepuff anyway), protective, passionate and a good listener. She tends to have few close friends than being surrounded by many acquaintances. Negative traits: She's an introvert, abit too emotional and gets easily lost in thoughts. Sensitive and usually absorb other people’s negative moods.

Hobbies: Tarot reading (cause me too hehe), magical gemstones collecting, dueling practice, caring for magical creatures in her vivarium.

Amortentia: Ginger tea, petrichor, tarot incense smoke which later changed to Sebatian's cologne. Favorite subjects: D.A.D.A, Care for Magical Creatures, Divination.

Least favorite subjects: Potions (she's not the type of person who always sticks to instruction), Arithmancy, History of Magic.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Family: Before her entrance to Hogwarts, Violette lived in a happy and caring family. Her father is a muggle from France, he moved to England with his twin brother in their 20s and met her mother -who is a witch (which she had kept secret until the night she got engaged, her father didn't surprise much, said he "positively felt something mysterious and strange about her the first day they met"). His twin brother is also married to a muggle, they also have a daughter named Noir Laurant. This family sure do like naming their children after color.

Sebastian Sallow: Since Violette's father and uncle are twins, she, more than anyone else understands Sebastian's feelings and why he doesn't give up on finding the cure for Anne. She was aware of the possible consequences of using dark arts, but still went along with Sebastian during the search for the relic cause she just could not bear to see him lose Anne. She admires his determination and outspokenness, which is quite contradicting to her introverted personality. After being dragged into the battle with goblins and Fig's death, Violette was traumatized and self-isolated, she lost her purpose for a while. Sebastian being a focused mind as always, helped snap her back to reality. Violette's loyalty and caring nature are Sebastian's emotional support. She decided to continue finding the cure for Anne with him, in a way that does not involve dark magic.

Ominis Gaunt: Is a wonderful friend to Violette. Both are introverts and do not trust other people easily. Violette likes Ominis's calming energy, and finds his sarcasm funny. They are the type of friends who do not talk much during hang out, just lay down and read books together.

Poppy Sweeting: Poppy is another great friend of Violette, as they're both from Hufflepuff. They share the same dedication to caring for nature and magical creatures. If there is something she cannot talk to the boys, she will share it with Poppy.

Natsai Onai: Violette and Natty get along well, she's always appreciates Natty's attempt to save her from Harlow's crucio. She also likes visiting Divination class to talk about tarot with Natty's mother.

SOME OTHER FACTS:

Violette's favorite food is apple pie & honey ginger tea. She doesn't like pineapple.

She is addicted to cats and will pet any cat she sees on the street.

She owns a brown great-horned owl named Garnet.

Her favorite tarot card is The Star. Favorite gemstone is amethyst due to its healing magic (and the color).

Even though she beat Imelda 3 times in flying and her housemate kept persuading her to join quidditch, she's not very fond of the game. She tried quidditch for about 3 months and then quit, as she doesn't like too much attention. She enjoys dueling in Crossed Wands instead.

Violette is the type of person who sometimes goes out to pick flowers and puts them in books.

She inherited her��red hair from her mother.

She has a small scar on her right eye brown which was caused during her fight vs Ranrok Loyalists alongside Sebastian.

[thejournallo]

Explain the basic: the Elements

Guess who's back—me, BRUH!

Desclaimer: Everything I will talk about is information that I got from books and sites online and even videos on YouTube. In my years of practice, I learned as much as I could out of curiosity and what works best for me. I suggest you do the same by learning as much as you can on your own (I will be here making posts teaching this kind of stuff) from multiple sources.

In witchcraft, the elements of Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Spirit are often seen as fundamental forces that can be harnessed for magical and spiritual purposes.

These elements are symbolic and represent different aspects of nature, energy, and consciousness. Here's a brief explanation of each element in the context of witchcraft:

Earth:

Symbolism: Represented by the physical element of earth, rocks, soil, and symbols like pentacles or greenery. Qualities: Associated with grounding, stability, fertility, abundance, and the material realm. Magical Uses: Earth is often invoked for spells related to prosperity, growth, physical health, and stability. It is also connected to the physical body and practical matters.

Air:

Symbolism: Represented by the element of air, wind, feathers, and symbols like incense or a wand. Qualities: Associated with communication, intellect, inspiration, thought, and the realm of the mind. Magical Uses: Air is often invoked for spells related to communication, intellect, clarity of thought, and inspiration. It is also associated with the power of the spoken word and intention.

Fire:

Symbolism: Represented by flames, candles, the sun, and symbols like a cauldron or a staff. Qualities: Associated with transformation, passion, energy, willpower, and the element of action. Magical Uses: Fire is often used in spells for transformation, motivation, courage, and purification. It symbolizes the spark of creation and the force that propels change.

Water:

Symbolism: Represented by water, rivers, lakes, and symbols like a chalice or a bowl of water. Qualities: Associated with emotions, intuition, purification, healing, and the subconscious. Magical Uses: Water is often invoked for spells related to emotions, intuition, purification, and healing. It is also associated with the flow of energy and the ebb and flow of life.

Spirit:

Symbolism: Often considered the fifth element, representing the divine or the ethereal. It may be symbolized by symbols like the akasha or an empty circle. Qualities: Associated with the divine, the interconnectedness of all things, and the essence of consciousness. Magical Uses: Spirit is often invoked for rituals that involve connecting with the divine, meditation, and spiritual growth. It is the element that transcends the physical and ties everything together.

In rituals and spellwork, practitioners often call upon these elements, either individually or in combination, to create a balanced and harmonious energy.

The elements are thought to correspond to different aspects of the human experience and the natural world, allowing witches to work with these energies to achieve their magical and spiritual goals.

Tips and tricks:

Body: If we want to use an element but don't have an object that can represent that element, we can use our body. (ex: I don't have anything to represent the earth; let me hit my feet to the ground.). (I need to represent fire; let me use my passion.)

To connect to an element: let's experience it, Go out and feel the forest and the rain; watch the fire burning; and let the fire warm you.

Combine the elements: with the incense, you have fire and air together; growing a plant, you have water and earth collaborating; and so on.

Memories: Everywhere you go, take a stone, a sea shell, a feather, or buy a lighter. Let the elements be good memories.

Deity: Some deities (I will deepen this conversation in the final post to explain the basics) are connected to the elements; we can use them to honor them.

Songs: we can use songs and music to feel connected to the elements; for example, I associate "Je te laisserai des mots" with the elements of the earth.

As always, I will love to hear your thoughts! and if you have any questions, I will be more than happy to answer them! If you liked it, leave a comment or reblog (that is always appreciated!). If you are interested in more methods, check the masterlist!

[usagirln12003]

Vinsmoke Sanji: Hogwarts AU

Sanji Vinsmoke is a Pureblood wizard that was born on the 2nd of March 1978 and started attending Hogwarts on the 1st of September 1989, being sorted into Gryffindor House.

He has a Poplar wand with a Phoenix Feather Core.

His Patronus is a Mountain Goat.

His favorite subject is Potions and his least favorite subject is History of Magic.

He was one of the Gryffindor Prefects of his year.

One of Sanji's most easily noticeable characteristics is the kind, calm, cool, and collected manner in which he carries himself. He tends to speak in a very composed manner, even in dire situations, and rarely acts without thinking. His demeanor in a lot of ways can be compared to that of a secret agent. This is amplified by the fact that he very often enjoys a smoke. He quite often makes comedic exceptions to this, such as when in the presence of beautiful women, or when angered by a friend.

Like Zoro, he is more perceptive than he seems, and often tells people what they need to hear instead of what they want. Hence, he is seen as one of the more hardened people in Luffy's friend-group. For example, when they first meet Laboon and learn that the whale had been waiting for 50 years for a reunion with his friends, it is Sanji who immediately (and correctly) points out that Laboon's friends are most likely dead. Sanji does possess an optimistic and idealistic side. Furthermore, even after the abuse, he experienced from his family as a child, he held out hope that they may have changed for the better. However, this hope proves to be completely futile, but he was angrier than surprised at the revelation, showing that he maintains a healthy sense of skepticism even at his most hopeful. Sanji also showed a high degree of faith in his fiancée, Pudding Charlotte, and was horrified and downcast when he discovered her true motive.

Like Franky (and unlike Zoro), Sanji is not afraid to show his emotions when the moment calls for it and is entirely capable of crying or losing his temper, which results in Sanji's short fuse and subsequent beatings of most enemies (and Luffy). In fact, a running gag has appeared since Sanji's fight with Jabra, during which he stated that when he gets angry, he "heats up". After this fight, when Sanji gets particularly angry at an opponent, he appears to burst into flames. This occurs with both Absalom and Duval. It is also seen when Luffy states nonchalantly that he is friends with Hancock Boa, considered to be the most beautiful witch.

Despite his hardened outlook on life, Sanji does not object to acting foolishly on certain occasions, like dancing with the more immature members of the group (Luffy, Usopp, Chopper and Brook), or acting childishly excited in certain situations.

Sanji seems to enjoy relaxing with a cup of tea (his favorite drink) as seen when he entered Mr. 3's house and helped himself to Miss Golden Week's tea set. This habit came up again when the group sneaked into the Ministry of Magic to save Robin when Kalifa distracted Sanji by offering him tea; in another instance, Sanji angrily refused Bege when he was offered something to drink while trapped inside of Bege's mansion.

Since at a young age, Sanji has a habit of saying "shit" or "shitty" when describing something. For example, he might call a person he especially does not like a "shitty bastard" or something along those lines (such as his personal nickname for Zeff, "shitty geezer"), but he also described something pleasant to him, like being alone with Nami, as "shitty fantastic" and "the shitty best".

He does admit that he is not perfect. He convinced Usopp to let him fight Jabra, because of their differences in abilities. He admitted that he was stronger than Usopp in terms of physical strength, that they both had things they could not do and things they could do and because of that, they can help each other. This inspired Usopp to realize he was the only one who could save Robin by using his marksmanship.