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❝I feel like a defective typewriter.❞
Jules of Nature

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tannertan36
DEAR READER
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Love Begins
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Kiana Khansmith
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oozey mess
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@patientisms-blog
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SEND A ▲ AND I WILL GENERATE A NUMBER FOR WHAT MY MUSE SAYS TO YOURS.
❝I feel like a defective typewriter.❞
▲ for any of your muses to any of mine
SEND A ▲ AND I WILL GENERATE A NUMBER FOR WHAT MY MUSE SAYS TO YOURS.
(( @rcmesfounder ))
❝I really want to kiss you.❞
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❝Don’t be afraid. I’m going to give you the choice I never had.❞
SEND A ▲ AND I WILL GENERATE A NUMBER FOR WHAT MY MUSE SAYS TO YOURS.
numbers: ( 1 - 226 ) link to generator: here content: miscellaneous movie quotes, does contain some adult content.
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“Well, at least you know that it’s not huge just because it has a large ego,” he commented good-naturedly, the unspoken, Unlike some people with nothing but a large ego, loud and clear. “But I’m sure I’d find what I need, you go ahead and finish whatever you need to. It’s not like I particularly offered you help anyway, I was merely glancing at the book when you said something about it.”
Christa laughed at Remus’ comment, her own silent agreement to his statement. “It’s really fine,” she assured him, “unless you think you can prove to me that you’re less appealing company than the essay I need to write. And, though I have faith in your abilities, Remus, I don’t think you’ll succeed with that.” Christa cast a quick levitation charm on the book Remus retrieved for her and leaned over to see what he was looking for.
ι cαη sεε тнε ℓιgнт
& ιт ℓσσкs ℓιкε үσυ
“I can’t see how - I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past few minutes.” Her eyebrows furrowed slightly with concern, “Is everything alright?”
“Sorry, Em, I’ve just been...not myself recently.” Christa admitted, moving hair out of her face.
Rubbing his nose, he shook his head in reassurance. He felt more embarrassed than actual pain; really, how often does someone smack themselves in the face, even if it was by accident?
“I’m fine, I’m fine. What’s the saying the muggle world uses? No pain, no gain?”
“Yes, that’d be it,” Christa grinned, amused by the slip up, but far from making fun of him. “I’ve had my fair share of hitting myself in the face. One time I punched myself in the face when I was going to sleep, and I pulled my blanket up too fast.”
❝!!-- ...S-sorry, you just startled me. That’s all.❞
“I can’t stop you from following me,” Regulus grumbled, frowning as he finally decided to move past her and head to the hospital, one arm held close to his rib cage where he could already feel his skin bruising. He hadn’t meant to walk straight into a suit of armor, he’d simply been lost in his thoughts and not paying attention, "but I swear to everything that is holy, if you try to heal me and make it worse I’ll .. be rather annoyed. You haven’t heard a howler until you’ve gotten one from my mum, and as funny as that may be to witness, I’d like to spare the rest of the student body from having their breakfast spoiled.“ Regulus had grown up to expect only the best care, but it wasn’t even his own uneasiness about letting someone else perform any spells on him that had him slowly taking the stairs with another prefect at his heels (his friends had been allowed to perform a spell or two on him); it was the knowledge that his mother would undoubtedly hear about it if something went wrong, and he hadn’t had to hear Walburga’s yelling via red letter all term. And seeing that this particular classmate was muggleborn, if he allowed her to do as she had wanted, well.. the risks outweighed the discomfort he felt walking all the way to the infirmary.
“I’m not the type of person to cast spells on people without their permission,” Christa remarked lightly. She waited until Regulus was a fair distance in front of her before stepping forward and following him. But with the distance between the two of them, to anyone else it only seemed like a coincidence that they happened to be walking in the same general direction. It amazed her, honestly, the lengths people would go to avoid her, and anyone like her. I’m not a leper, Christa thought, biting her lip. Why can’t they just treat me like anyone else? Why am I somehow less of a person because of my family? Still, Regulus hadn’t made any remarks towards her “impurity” so he was better than a lot of company she could have been distantly “escorting”. Christa hoped he understood that she truly wasn’t trying to baby him. She was just so sick to death of...well, death. Those missing students...she could be one of them. She could be next, and all she wanted was less pain. From anyone. She just didn’t want anything bad to keep happening if she could prevent any semblance of it.
The thing about arrogance, Emma thought, was that if one was’t careful, ot could get you killed. Emma was careful. Having spent her entire life clawing her way to the top ( and still climbing ) of a social hierarchy full of people who wouldn’t hesitate to stab her in the back without blinking an eye if it came to that, she was well aware that it took MORE than just pureblood to keep a person safe. There was a reason Emma was a Slytherin, and that was her self preservation. Emma was a survivor. She was iron. Self preservation was what she specialised in, and she didn’t need Christa fucking Williams to tell her that no one was safe in a war.
( it was part of the reason why she never joined the death eaters despite labeling herself as a blood purist. in the end, no matter which side won, no one was spared. for all her faults, a death wish was not one of them. )
The smile, cool as ice, never once dropped from her face. There was not a single hint to suggest that Emma was in anyway fazed by the other girl’s warning, because the truth was she wasn’t. The only real change was the glint of amusement that glittered in her eyes, and the smugness that laced her lips as she considered the girl before her. It amused her to see Christa bite back, even if she’d done it in the most hufflepuff way possible. There was a backbone in this girl, and Emma had dug her claws in deep enough to bring it out.
She also had no intentions of ever taking Christa up on that offer. Kindness, especially like that, was weakness, Emma thought. How Christa was still willing to care and trust and accept even those who had hurt her, those who fought against her and her kind, was weakness to Emma. It was also something she failed to understand. Having been raised to believe trust was a luxury very very few could afford ( to give or to have, it made little difference ), it seemed to Emma that if she told Christa here and now that she wanted to change, that she wanted to unlearn blood purity, she’d probably be believed. Not only that, but Christa might even help. Her kindness meant she trusted, and it was this trust, Emma thought, that would ultimately be her downfall.
( if her heart didn’t ruin her first, that is. as rightly stated, it was a war, and no one was safe. caring for people, even people, especially people, that hated you in a world where anyone could go missing on any given day seemed foolish; it set you up to get your heart b r o k e n. caring for people was more trouble than it was worth sometimes. )
As much as Emma wanted to leave, wanted for this pointless conversation to end, she had too much pride to stand up first. She refused to leave first, and give Christa the satisfaction of thinking she’d had any other impact on Emma than mild annoyance. Lazily she reclined in her seat, raising a brow at the girl before her.
“While I know I’m far too pretty to die young, I’m not foolish enough to believe that I am invincible. You might want to watch your back, Williams, because one day you’ll make an offer like that to someone far less kind than me, and you’ll end up with a dagger plunged through your back. Here’s a tip: being kind gets you no where except a grave.”
“It’s a good thing I haven’t made that offer to anyone less kind than you,” Christa assured Emma. It took a certain type of person to wish death upon others--innocents, nonetheless. And Christa had seen it in so many people--the ones who called her Mudblood with enough venom to down a horse, those who looked at her like others would look at a bug they were about to squash. But Emma didn’t seem like that type of person. She just seemed like the type who did anything to ensure that everything could be the best for herself, and those she cared for. And Christa could absolutely respect that. “Maybe. But if I do end up in a grave a lot earlier than I expected--then I at least want to be myself when I end up there. I want to be the person that I worked hard to be today--if not better. I don’t want to throw away everything I worked for, and be less than who I am now.”
she had misgivings about doing this. serious misgivings at that. despite her personal feelings of total disinterest in blood purity ( after all she was a realist and realistically there was no real way the wizarding world could continue to go on without everyone having at least some muggle ancestry at some point ) she knew better than to be actively seen with a muggleborn just for the things that could be done to her reputation alone. but this was important, though perhaps not as important as her reputation and the way it would make the good borgin name look, but it was important enough for her to at least ask Christa to meet with her in private just so Tamsin could check in on her. truthfully, it was her duty as head girl, and Dumbledore had even suggested that she’d check in on the muggleborn prefects to see how they were feeling, but actually going to check on them now made Tamsin nervous in a way that she couldn’t manage to shake no matter how hard she tried to rationalize that she was just doing her duty.
holding her breath for several moments she stood outside of the old storage room with her hand gripping the doorknob before finally letting herself in.
“er—” she paused for a moment glancing at christa before turning and flicking her wand at the door, just to make sure no one accidentally walked in on the conversation or that any particularly nosy passerbyer happened to eavesdrop.
“sorry yeah, take a seat. I actually just wanted to talk to you and see how you were feeling, considering all that’s happened since break ended.”
sinking into a chair, christa told tamsin, “i’m...i’m okay.”
it wasn’t a lie. she was okay--uninjured, mentally stable, emotionally shaken, but not near a breakdown. not yet. some days the anticipation, the urge to look over her shoulder every time she turned a corner was overwhelming. some days she was able to forget this feeling of dread that filled her, and she was at peace. still, she refused to let recent happenings change her for the worse. she didn’t want to lose herself--not after how long it took her to finally find herself. Every obstacle she faced would not be in vain. she refused to lose herself to the darkness that loomed just out of reach. “just trying to be a lot more careful, i guess.”
“I don’t need a baby sitter or an escort, I assure you I can get there just fine. Being a Prefect doesn’t give you the authority to walk me down to the healer like a toddler. If I fall to my death it’s my own fault.”
“I’m not insinuating you are, Regulus. I won’t escort you, I’ll keep my distance, at least five feet away from you, and just make sure nothing happens along the way to worsen your injury. I think it’d be good to avoid more deaths as much a we can. After you.” She moved aside so he could start towards the wing. “Or, I could just heal you now, and then I’ll be out of your hair completely and much quicker. It’s your choice.”
“I said I’m fine, I can manage the walk. I think I’d prefer a professional.”
“Well, I’m not a professional yet, but I’ve healed people plenty of times before. As a fellow Prefect, I can’t say I feel comfortable letting you walk. There’s been some accidents on the staircases recently, so if you insist on going to the Hospital Wing, I’ll accompany you.”
“I’m fine, you can be on your way now.”
“But if you go all the way to the Hospital Wing from here, that could make it worse. I can heal it now and it won’t get worse.”
“Ah, that would be nice, actually. Saves me from having to waste my time heading all the way down there. Could you?”
“Tergeo! Reparifors!” A few swishes of her wand later, and Ted’s wound was cleaned and all healed up as thought it had never even happened. “You have two wishes left. If you need anything else, I’ll be in my magic lamp.”
Emma’s lips curled up into an almost feline grin as Christa responded. The girl was dull, so incredibly, passively dull, but Emma didn’t miss how her hands clenched. It was amusing, really. She waited for the day when Christa would actually say something. Emma didn’t bother replying, instead she just lazily watched Christa with a look as if to say, well, are you leaving? when the other girl didn’t move right away.
That grin of hers made her so bloody angry. How could she sit there making jokes about those whose lives hung in the balance? Releasing a breath to calm herself, Christa told her, “I know full well I’m not your favorite person, Emma, but I do want to leave you with this. I know you don’t care much for Muggle history, but things like this--obvious race-biased attacks--have happened before, and they never end well for anyone involved. There’s always collateral damage. You have an advantage, of course, being pureblood. As far as this has developed, no one is targeting you guys. And for that, I’m glad. But be careful still. Because who knows what’s coming next? The next Hogsmeade trip coming, there could be another attack, you know? And in the dark, if all whoever is doing this knows that one of the targets is blonde, and you have to look like a blonde muggleborn in the dark, or from behind, or what have you--something really awful could happen. And I pray that doesn’t ever happen to you; truly. My point is: you’re probably safe, and I’m glad for that, but don’t become careless knowing that. And if you ever feel like you’re trapped, or confused, or scared and you don’t know what’s going to happen to you--I’m always here if you need to talk.” She refused to let her anger get to her and make her bitter towards Emma, even if it was reasonable in this situation. Brushing hair behind her ear, Christa gave Emma a telling look that she had nothing else to say to her, and she was going to leave if Emma didn’t have anything else to say.