thats was creepy

3, 2, 1… a fear submitted by Dell to Deep Dark Fears - thanks!

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  • what she says: I'm fine.
  • what she means: Ok, but, like...who owned the Potters’ house after they died? Why didn’t it go to Harry? James and his family were wealthy, and the Potters had been well-established in Godric’s Hollow for a long time, so presumably their modest little house was not bank owned or under mortgage. I feel pretty confident that they owned it outright. And there was a war going on, they knew they were targets...there’s no way they didn’t have a will. Why didn’t their house go to Harry? Did the Ministry just, like...take it? Because they wanted it to be held in stasis as a memorial? That's creepy af. But what gave them the legal right? Is it because baby Harry didn’t pay property taxes for a few years, so the Ministry used that as an excuse to claim it? Who was the executor of the Potters’ will? Why didn’t someone take care of that and ensure the house was held in trust for Harry until he came of age? Was it Dumbledore who screwed this up? I bet it was Dumbledore. It's always Dumbledore... And what about all of their belongings??? Harry might not have wanted the house, but you can be pretty damn certain that he would have wanted some of his parents’ things...James’s old quidditch gear, Lily’s jewelry, family recipes, old photo albums...where the hell did everything go?? Is it...is it all still there....? In the house....? Oh god, that's a terrible creepy thought! Is it all just sitting there, in Ministry-owned suspension, while Hagrid has to beg James and Lily’s old school friends to send pictures because 11 year old Harry doesn’t know what his parents looked like??? What the hell is wrong with Wizarding society, and why did everyone treat literal angel child Harry James Potter this way???!!
  • Jon: I was resurrected after being stabbed by my own men.
  • Sansa: Oh well that's definitely the weirdest thing I've heard so far.
  • Bran: Hey Sansa, couldn't help but overhear your conversation and I just wanted to let you know that you looked beautiful on your wedding night.
  • Sansa: Holy fuck what that's fucking creepy Bran what the fu-wait Arya what's that in your bag?
  • Arya: Oh, these? These are my faces. The faces that I wear. As an assassin. I can speak in their voice, live in their skin...even become you.
  • Sansa, packing her bags: All right you guys it's been fun catching up really missed you but I think I have to go very very far away from here see you all next Christmas
Forget me not

Thaaaaank you @alwaysfangirly!! 💖 And omg, you’re so kind! And so patient! Because this took me forever and you were so sweet about it! 💖 I hope you like what I did with it! (Even though it might be kinda messy and confusing…) Oh, and I also posted it on AO3, because… well, once more, it turned out longer than I intended…



“Pansy, where was I yesterday?”

“What?”

“What was I doing? Did you see me talking to anyone?”

Draco paced the length of the eighth year common room, feeling Pansy’s intent stare on him.

“Those are really odd questions to ask. Have you lost your mind?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Draco muttered, stopping in front of the fireplace. “I think someone obliviated me. No, I am sure someone obliviated me.”

He heard Pansy get off the armchair and walk over to him.

“Are you sure? Why would someone do that to you?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Draco growled.

“But how can you be sure you’ve been obliviated? I mean, isn’t the point of obliviating someone that they… well, forget?”

Draco scratched the back of his neck, nodding absentmindedly.

“Something just felt off when I woke up this morning. I was sure it was Wednesday but then I saw the Daily Prophet and realised it was already Thursday. I remember everything until Tuesday night and waking up today. But if I try to think about what happened yesterday, my mind just goes blank. I’ve been racking my brain all day long. It’s the only explanation, Pansy. I-”

Draco stopped in his tracks when he saw Potter enter the common room. Something was… weird about him today. He didn’t look at Draco. He hadn’t looked at Draco all day. He always looked at Draco. He probably thought it went unnoticed but, of course, Draco noticed. He always stared right back whenever Potter briefly averted his eyes. Always. But why was Potter avoiding his gaze today?

“Potter!” Without a moment’s hesitation, he strode over to the Gryffindor.

“Hey Malfoy,” he mumbled, his eyes on the carpet.

“Potter, is there something you want to tell me?” Draco inquired, lowering his head to catch the other boy’s eye.

“No?” the Gryffindor said, his voice slightly shaking.

“I think there is. Out with it, Potter! Something happened yesterday, I know it.”

“You do?” Potter said in astonishment, finally looking up. His eyes were full of wonder and… apprehension. “But you shouldn’t-” He broke off, pressing his mouth into a thin line.

“I shouldn’t what?” Draco said, stepping closer and narrowing his eyes. “Remember? You did it, didn’t you? You were the one who obliviated me.”

Potter was trying very hard to keep a straight face, but Draco saw right through him.

“The question is,” he said slowly, lowering his voice, “why did you do it?”

Potter closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

“I’ve been feeling guilty about that all day. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Then why did you?” Draco asked.

“I panicked, okay? I didn’t do it on purpose. It was like a reflex.”

Now Draco simply had to know what had happened the day before. This sounded serious.

“Show me,” he said, grabbing Potter by the wrist.

“How-”

“There’s got to be a Pensieve around here somewhere,” Draco muttered, already dragging Potter out of the common room.

“There is, actually,” Potter mumbled behind him.


Draco looked around the memory he and Potter had just dived into. They were in the dungeons and class had just started.

“Professor, why are you showing us Amortentia again?” one of the students asked, sounding more eager than annoyed.

“Because,” Professor Slughorn said with a smile, “I want you to brew an antidote today. So everyone take a quick sniff to get in the right mood and get started.”

Draco frowned as he watched himself go into the storage room, apparently ignoring Slughorn’s instructions. His eyes then fell on Potter, Pensieve-Potter to be precise, who stood in front of the cauldron full of Amortentia. Granger and the Weasel were standing beside him, grinning at each other. It was disgusting.

“What do you smell, Harry?” the Weasel asked. Potter blinked.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, we’re your friends. You can tell us,” the Weasel insisted, elbowing him.

“No, Ron, I literally smell nothing,” Potter muttered, sounding genuinely surprised.

“That’s strange,” Granger chimed in.

“Yeah.” Potter creased his eyebrows. “I would have thought-” He stopped abruptly as Draco, well, Pensieve-Draco, came into view again, locking eyes with him.

“Professor, have you ever heard of anyone who doesn’t smell anything? In regards to Amortentia, I mean.”

“Hermione,” Potter growled through gritted teeth.

“What, she didn’t say it was you,” the Weasel shrugged. Potter slapped a hand to his forehead and Draco saw himself smirk.

“You don’t smell anything, Potter? That’s pretty pathetic.” When Pensieve-Draco simply strutted back to his desk and began chopping his ingredients, the real Draco frowned.

“So that’s the big secret? This is why you obliviated me?” he asked.

“Wait for it,” Potter mumbled. Was Draco imagining it or were Potter’s cheeks turning a bit rosy? He was biting the inside of his cheek, too, and constantly shifting his weight. He was nervous.

Intrigued, Draco watched as the class proceeded without significant interruptions.

When Slughorn dismissed them and students started hurrying out of the classroom, Draco tapped his foot impatiently. He paused when he saw his past self purposely bump into Potter, causing the Gryffindor to drop all his books.

Smirking to himself, Pensieve-Draco bent down to help Pensieve-Potter pick up his things, quickly scanning the room. They were the only ones left.

“So, you really didn’t smell anything?” Draco heard himself ask. Pensieve-Potter just scowled at him. Draco could see what Pensieve-Potter obviously didn’t; Pensieve-Draco was disappointed. “Nothing at all?”

Getting up, Pensieve-Potter slammed down his books on the desk nearest to him.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I used to smell… something. So you can save your taunts about-”

“What is that?” Pensieve-Draco suddenly asked. Potter had been draping his Gryffindor scarf around his neck but had halted at the Slytherin’s outburst. The real Draco watched closely as his past self stretched out a hand and examined the scarf.

“What is it now?” Pensieve-Potter said, sounding irritated but also slightly nervous. “It’s my scarf.”

Pensieve-Draco slowly shook his head as he drew out his wand.

“No, something is off.” He pointed his wand at the scarf and before Potter could protest or interfere, he had mumbled, “Revelio.”

Keep reading

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so last night, I came home about 10:30 just to find this abandoned, unlocked, empty post truck just parked on the side of the road near my house, next to the mouth of the woods. It was super odd because post trucks do not run at night, neither do they just suddenly appear unlocked. Now that’s some @sixpenceee shit

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Anyway, I hope you understand. And to those with my phone number, I’d appreciate it if you told me how you got it so I can stop it (11)

from happening again in the future. To be clear, I won’t be reacting to or reading any more Katie related tweets. Sorry, but that’s (12)

The way it has to be. And to the girl who texted me, Just to reiterate, message me again and I’ll put your name here. #NotJoking (13)

And to all the brill fans who know the difference between reality and television, take care and thanks for the nice chats. #ByeBye (14) -Rudhraigh McGrath (Katie’s brother) (x)

Hey guys, I’ve been meaning to draw spider Abbacchio for ages now. Here it is, very spooky and oddly hot.