#cruelveined

[agirlingrey]

❛ ———— PANSY PARKINSON. Character Profile. ❜ @cruelveined.

[warreurs]

@proditeur​ , @manichaeisms​ , @cruelveined​

#absolutely atrocious 0/10 would not go on death eater missions with 

#rabastan thinks he's a prick #it's amazing

#i guess pansy's cousin is kinda cool

slytherins are poetic as fuck.

[fsarch]

❝Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.❞

“ I don’t. ” and there is nothing callous about it. All of his edges have been sanded down , by time , by grief , by the innate inability hold onto grudges. And it’s funny , because just months ago —when he was younger , dumber— he had no idea how to LET THINGS GO.

“ and i don’t want you to be sorry. ” he takes care to cradle close the notion that there is something after this , that she won’t say goodbye for the last time today , that this won’t be the last time he keeps her company. And he won’t say those things aloud , whether out of fear or respect for her idealizations , but it is more potent to him than anything else. Otherwise , it would all be for nothing. Otherwise , it goes unfinished.

When he turns to her , face pale and eyes dulled , his lips quiver with everything he can’t bring himself to say. All that anger , that wrath , that contempt spilling out of him like blood from a torn artery , staining the floor and leaving a trail in its wake . . . some would call it growth. Harry just thinks that it HURTS. Necessary or not —and it is , don’t get him WRONG— there is something to be said about the fact he is still standing , chest open and lungs exposed , the steady thrum of his heart on display like drums of the Motherland.

He misses not knowing what it means. He misses being run by it.

“ what i want is to know that it’s over. Not . . . I mean that I want to know all this — ” he gestures around them vaguely , and while it’s evident what he means, at least to him, the irony is not lost. The still air , the dense silence. The war is long gone. So is his. “Is all over. That we can move on. Somehow. ” Together.

[arch-wistcrias]

           “ If they had corralled Potter, instead of splitting up, they’d have gotten the snitch. ” She says it with ease, her sparrow-quick eyes watching the team move in tandem. At least there was that, even when their strategies fell short. Kestrel gives a quick shake of her head, a sigh silent in her throat. They’re losing this game; it’s so obvious to her. 

So why does she stick around? For one, she doesn’t think she could CONVINCE Pansy to leave with her. “ The common room will be miserable tonight. Losing always makes everyone so ugly. But, then again, so does WINNING. ” 

&. @cruelveined​ from KESTREL. 

[caediteosarchived]

                           “ Parkinson? ” Her nephew had reluctantly told her about the crowd he surrounded himself with, and this particular girl, who’d showed up at the Malfoy mansion at this particular time. Summer was only just starting, and that meant Bellatrix was to train Draco for the coming months. Prepare him for his task. Now this girl showed up --- to distract him? To join him? “ You look like your mother. ”

@cruelveined | bella starters!

[fsarch]

@cruelveined / cont. 

now it’s not uncommon for harry to lose track of his thoughts and allow both mind and body to run free. the thing about this is that he has a knack for allowing them BOTH to do so at the same time when there’s change in the air. he isn’t used to change. even with the demise of his uncle and the evolution of his ability to find some semblance of PEACE, he struggles to tether himself to the realities that his aunt petunia seems to be so keen on running from. 

nevertheless, he’d always thought he was a superstar of sorts under pressure because let’s face it: SOMEONE HAD TO BE. between aunt petunia’s nose in every place it shouldn’t be and dudley’s infamous stress eating, someone had to keep this house on track after uncle vernon passed on. but this is not the story he wants to offer up to the girl standing before him during their first meeting. he has one shot to make a good impression without any interference from petunia or dudley, and the last thing he’s going to try and wield is the dead uncle pass.

and even if he’d wanted to, there’s no hope for him remembering the half of it when slender digits brush along the bridge of his nose and restore his vision. in fact, it’s subtle, so -DELICATE, that harry’s certain he’s going into shock. then he realizes that it isn’t just because of the act itself but the fact that he can SEE now, and boy, is she- “ beautiful.” the moment he blurts the word, his eyes are magnified behind the glass, cheeks stained a faint pink before he clears his throat and reaches up to fiddle with his glasses as an excuse to hide SOME of his face. “ uh, i - um, i mean, brilliant. brilliant! yeah, i - that’s much better. i just - yeah, wow. i’m blind as a bloody bat without them. not that - i mean, you don’t… well then.” straightening, he clears his throat once more before slapping on a crooked smile, bashful in all of its glory.

“ well, you only get one chance at a first impression, don’t you? and that’s the only time i’ll be able to make an entrance like that without - interference…” his brows knit at his own diction before one raises in consternation. he then sets out to clarify because what else is there to do? “ i have a cousin, i mean. not that - not - your family wouldn’t be an interference or anything. mine would. not that they’re bad, or - well, they’re…"

and here he was trying to convince her that he was the best their home had to offer?PLEASE. he was doomed. she’d tell her parents all about the weird boy next door, and they’d shun aunt petunia, and she’d kill him. he could feel it. taking a step back, he takes a deep breath and grips the platter with both hands. ” i’m sorry. i’m not usually the one being the welcome wagon, and so i’m a bit rusty. i promise that i’m usually more graceful, and this cake will make up for everything i’ve done up to now, so please. accept it?“

[isgull-moved]

        “i never said it was a bedtime story.  i’m sure the reports   on the paper made that clear, too.”  camilla glances at her from the corner of her eye, a vacant expression on her face.  she didn’t like talking about the events that surrounded bunny’s death  ( murder )  or henry’s death ( suicide ), for obvious reasons.  a shrink would tell her that letting it all out would help her heal and move forward, but if she did that, she’d probably end up in jail.  so she could only half-heartedly do both, and camilla wasn’t remotely close to achieving either of the two.  “i was... associated with everything because we were part of the same group, but i didn’t know all the ins and outs.  still don’t, i guess.”  at least there was actually some truth in that.  “i’d say there’s more than dust on the pages.”

@cruelveined​ said : ‘  the  story’s  got  dust  on  every  page.  ’   /   meme : accepting !

[conjvring]

Draco didn’t acknowledge Pansy at first, except perhaps his step across the grounds became a bit more brisk at the sight of her. He had hoped to leave her behind along with her apology to stew on their squabble a little longer but he could hear her footfalls trailing along behind him; Not accepting his silent-treatment. Draco let out an audible sigh and rolled his eyes, stopping dead in his tracks and whipping right around to face her. His expression was scrunched up.

“So you’re just going to take it out on me, then?”  Draco asked. It was his turn to raise his voice at her, drawing some attention from some underclassmen who were walking by but they just kept on, figuring it was best to mind their own business.  “Just embarrass me in front of my friends, then? In front of the common room?”  Thin arms stretched out in some kind of shrug before falling back down to his sides.  “What’s your problem, Parkinson?”

@cruelveined​ asked:  “i’m sorry i shouted at you. i was angry.”