#wlfcursed

[magpae]

"𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜?"     [    @wlfcursed​    ]

only  half  listening,    𝙷𝙴’𝙳  𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚇𝚃.    a  dangerous  game  to  play  when  talking  of  𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜.     its  why  he  simply  stares  for  a  moment,    brown  orbs  dancing  over  others’  features  for  𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎  𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍  𝚘𝚏  𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕,    before  deciding  cheeky  nature  was  the   best  way  to  get  out  of  borderline  𝙰𝚆𝙺𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳  𝚂𝙸𝚃𝚄𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽.     “   my  standards?    𝚕𝚘𝚠,   usually.    𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜  𝚠𝚑𝚘’𝚜  𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐.   ”

[marblecarved-aa]

@wlfcursed​ sent a question: “ 💬  —  also just for mcgonagall because i am a weak woman ”

source: send  💬  for me to make you a starter with a random line of dialogue from this generator.

❝ Lyra ? ❞ is pronounced with an hesitance that tells us that she still has to get used to referring to the woman seated opposite her with her first name. For she is a colleague, now, though Miss Reed does slip out of habit. Minerva places saucer then teacup there, on the table, near the biscuit tin. Such an action prompts a tin as bone china settles on wood, which stirs the silence in her office a moment, 'fore it settles between them anew. There are papers to grade, still; Those have been moved aside while Lyra was invited to come in, and the ink, she is sure, has since dried ( though she must check for any possible smudge ). To those, Minerva casts a distracted look. I'll have time to grade the rest later. Thus her attention returns to Lyra, a worried line appearing between brows. ❝ Is there something you want to tell me ? ❞

[prodigalpercy]

@wlfcursed​ gets a smol starter!

    he thinks he’s ALONE in the hall. . .  honestly, percy is still conflicted about taking the position offered to him by mcgonagall.  the school year will start within a few weeks, and he has already settled into his new home: hogwarts. the halls are familiar, and he is thankful to see them all reconstructed. . .  not the ruins he left fred in.  still.  he feels haunted here.  percy does not even know if he is cut out to be a teacher.  he should have. . . stayed at the ministry or --

he hears a noise and looks up.  “shit,”  percy says under his breath and sniffles, pulling off his glasses to wipe tears that have trickled down his cheeks.  he clears his throat, turning toward the direction of the sound.  “to think, i lived here for seven years, and i still sometimes get lost.”  percy says to lyra, seeing her there in the dim light of the torches.  “how are you, madam reed?”

[ministerfor]

@wlfcursed    ✉     miscellaneous quotes :    "it cannot be a mistake to have cared. it cannot be an error to have tried. it cannot be incorrect to have loved."

❛  well, madam reed, i'd say that's a philosophy we are in deep agreement about.  ❜     and it's easier,       he knows,       to feel optimistic in moments like this,      when stomach is full of molly's cooking and goblet is full of wine he's been nursing, savoring.        ( — just one !     he'd insisted, knowing elsewise the hostess would keep pouring.        some of us still have work tonight ! )    bittersweet, their lives,    wherein every moment of joy casts inevitable shadow.     tables that ought to be more full.     parties missing often deceased,     but there are others lost other ways.     deception.      betrayal.      none among them can be condemned for being caught on those sharp hooks of regret . . .

yet how he relishes to tear free !       ❛  i have said it before and i will say it until i am blue in the face :         to persevere in the face of fear, to love in spite of a past of loss, to rely on trust, is the ONLY WAY we endure this war.  ❜

[esbye]

`    ♡   .        PROMPT        ⅋        MISC  POETRY .

“  sometimes  being  offered  tenderness  feels  like  the  very  proof  you’ve  been  ruined.  ”      @wlfcursed​

WHO ARE YOU WHEN NOBODY’S AROUND?   when the sun goes down and the dead come out?   there’s always been darkness inside of him;   always lingering in the deepest and darkest parts,   all covered in cob webs and thick layers of dust,   refusing to leave his side.   making him decay little by little each and every day.   he’s been ruined for far too long,   crimson decorating his hands that he’ll never scrub clean.   so he almost laughs—if you can call it that,   he would never be such a fool to do something so casual as...   laugh.     “ haa... ”     deadpan,   lips almost snarling as his sight burns into the other.   what did she want from him?   he can’t think anything good.   that’s not what people needed him for;   that’s not why he was kept around.

“ and what would you know,   exactly...   miss—reed? ”     brows lift,   head cocking to the side slightly.     “ about — tenderness? ”     his jaw clenched too tight that he might snap it off,   eyes darkening as he towers over her.     “ about being ruin—ed. ”     it’s burning inside;   that raging fire he can never extinguish as he lowers his voice,   head leaning down as he gets all too close.     “ you— ”     he stops himself,   teeth grinding together inside his mouth.   do not,   severus.     “ get.   out.   of.   my.   sight. ”     pulling himself away,   turning his nose to her as he spins round,   leaving as he always does;   in a huff,   robes trailing behind him.

[esbye]

`    ♡   .        PROMPT        ⅋        QUESTIONS  ¿

“  how  could  you  say  something  like  that ?  ”      @wlfcursed​

“ … ”     merely steering at the other behind large round frames,   sybill’s shoulders lift slightly,   blinking as she looks to the other.     “ because it’s your future,   dear.   it’s all right here in the leaves. ”     head drops,   brows pulling together in confusion as her sight fixated on lyra’s teacup.   WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?   the tea leaves formed together all too clearly in sybill’s eyes,   flashes of the woman—what was yet to come.     “ it’s a flag.   mhm hmm,   you see right at the bottom of the cup.   oh,   you know what that means…   don’t you? ”     she’s not surprised.   lifting the cup,   eyes wide as she looks to lyra and points down at the tea leaves with her index finger.     “ it means that you have to be careful in the future,   my dear.   you may end up tainting your reputation...   especially if you’re not wary of bad influences or if you hang around with people that have a negative reputation—who might spoil your image. ”     gaze almost burning into lyra,   almost speaking unspoken words.

[moonshunned]

@wlfcursed asked: “there must be another way.”

There was something akin to pity in his eyes when his gaze met Lyra’s. “I’m afraid there’s none. It’s our responsibility to put him out of his misery.”

It was simply the way of nature. Sometimes werewolves hurt each other so badly, it ended in death. Or not quite, like in the case of this very unfortunate man. Of course a healer like Lyra wanted to try and help him but Remus knew there was no hope for him. The cursed wounds were too deep, they were immune to healing magic and the poor sod had already looked too thin and weak even before several wolves had attacked him. At first it had horrified Remus, how brutal life in a pack could be, but by now he had accepted it. It wasn’t for him, it wasn’t for Lyra either, but he felt a connection regardless and an obligation. 

Remus drew is wand. “If I were in his position I would want somebody to end it quickly, rather than leave me to slowly die from my injuries. Wouldn’t you want the same?”

[hatilead]

❛ you are entirely hopeless. ❜            @wlfcursed​    

             HAND PRESSED TO HEART BECOMES             the hail mary of a godless child  .         smile sweet like honey ,        drips thickly into the realm of acting .      tap of heel against stone floor commands attention effortlessly ,        world at his feet reduced to abandoned classroom .       son of the believer becomes the child of the faithless ,        kicks and screams its way through whatever remainder of divinity rests heavy ‘pon tongue       ;        like modern god ,         HE TOO PRETENDS NOT TO BE SCORNED BY INSULT    .           even those spoken in jest  .   

❝   am i now .   ❞        chuckle stripped from throat .         shake of his head before he brings cigarette to his lips .        pink smoke filling the room         /         half expecting a reprimand for that too           (         if she dares .       he hopes she will .      )        LUNGS FILL WITH SMOKE .        HOLD ON TO            the dazzling sensation .      he is nothing if not longing for an eternal connection .           ❝   i might be so ,      but what does that say about you     ?        darling ,       do you favour the company of the hopeless ,       or do you still believe that there is hope for me still     ?          am i truly past the point of redemption ,       or am i just another project for you to heal   ?    ❞