with battered hearts recovering

Photo

Thu, 21 Jun 2012 18:00:00 -0400

objet trouvé

Thu, 21 Jun 2012 09:23:00 -0400

Literally ‘found object’, in French.

Objects that are often modified, but otherwise serve a non-art purpose, that are presented as art.

Hm.

Not everything is about you.

Tue, 19 Jun 2012 06:14:31 -0400

Excellent. Things would be awfully boring if it was.

Thanks much for clearing that one up.

i'm so postmodern i had already created an imaginary little brother before you were born but you'll do i suppose | hugo

Sat, 16 Jun 2012 23:39:36 -0400

meishugo:

“You’ve got a deal,” he said, extending his arms towards her. “Although, lending wouldn’t be the right word for it.” Cookies in exchange for his shirt sounds like a good deal to him. Food in exchange for anything was good enough for him. He was a simple person who found pleasure in simple things.

Details. Details were details - too detailed, in his opinion; not vague enough; disallowing for any sort of divergence from the actual truth. Hugo supposed that for brothers and sisters he and Rose were pretty close. He knew about her (no, not condition; Hugo refused to call it a condition because it sounded so medical and medical meant hospitals and hospitals were cold and dead… Rose wasn’t that) situation. But they never really talked about it and that was how their relationship was. They told each other things by not really telling each other anything.

It was different with Lily. Hugo could tell Lily anything - all the bits and the pieces, the things in between the in betweens, the grime that came with the truth. That was how he was with Lily. But not with Rose. Rose didn’t like to talk too much about things and really, Hugo was fine with that. And as close as he’d like to think they were, Hugo knew that there would always be a wall between them.

“Details? Are you sure you want to know the details?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms across his chest. What was he going to tell her? Oh hey, my girlfriend of almost a year said she loved me and I laughed at her face. That’s nice. That sounded really nice.

“Grawp is a fine half-giant, I’ll have you know. And I am not subjecting Roxy to more of my horrible mainstream music. My music is not mainstream,” he protested. He frowned a little, followed by a shrug. Hugo began walking towards the castle - the frown that he dawned on his face was immediately turned into a smile at the mention of food.

Rose smirked as she shook his hand. He got his food and she got her clothing. It wasn’t even a case of being pleased her plan had worked - offer Hugo food in exchange for his left foot and he would take it if he were hungry enough - but more that fact that she liked to take satisfaction in little things. And she so adored that t-shirt.

“The nitty gritty,” she nodded, only half serious. While she was honestly curious about what was going on with her brother and his first girlfriend (because she would take any opportunity to poke fun at him), it seemed odd having a conversation in which she genuinely wanted to talk. (The last time that had happened, she had been sitting on his bed with her knees hugged to her chest, telling him about how her and mum were going to see the doctor before term started.)

Shaking the thought from her head, she nudged him with her shoulder. “Winding you up, Hugo,” she lilted, a teasing note in her voice.

“I’m sure you and Grawp make excellent friends. And although I may turn up my nose at your ridiculous tastes — I’ll tolerate them this one time. Savvy?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Now, start talking. Or else I’ll start talking about food and we’ll both wind up starving.”

Thinking about it more, she decided that although she may tease him about how much he ate sometimes, on this occasion, Hugo’s love of food was excellent. It allowed them both time to catch up with one another (with plenty of jibes and jokes inbetween) as well as breakfast for Rosie. It seemed like ages since her and Hugo had eaten together, mostly because they sat on separate tables for meals, but also because the mandatory visits to Hagrids had grown fewer over the years, and Rose was pretty sure that Hugo took Lily along now. Or possibly Georgina? Really these things ought to be found out, if just for the satisfaction of crashing a hot date with Hagrid’s famous rock cakes.

Mainstream Streams Mainly Modern Posers And Post-Modern Junkies | Rose & Carmen

Sat, 16 Jun 2012 23:39:23 -0400

darkcarmen:

A smile. A small one, yes, but it was a smile Carmen had seen on Rose’s lips, so her little trick had worked. People were complicated. It didn’t work on everyone, but it did work on this one. Her eyes followed the redhead as she moved to lean against the wall. What was going on in her head? Carmen let her ponder for a moment in silence, swinging her feet ever so slightly so that her boots clacked against the stone wall. She supposed Rose’s thoughts had something to with her earlier question. Terrifyingly terrifying?

Sure enough, when the girl opened her mouth, Carmen knew she was right. The girl had her concerns about how powerful Carmen was, from the sound of things, and rightly so. For a such a sunshine-sweet little blonde, Carmen could pack a punch with a wand - far more than she let on in class. As far as she knew, no other fifth-year was capable of performing all three unforgivable curses, alongside other dark magic. Then again, they could have been hiding it like her, and she’d only used it on small creatures. Perhaps on people it was different. But all this was besides the point. The point was that Rose was suspicious of her, and she had to rectify that right away.

She started with the slight parting of the lips and the slumping of the shoulders, hurt. It couldn’t be overdone. Over-doing it never worked. Neither did rushing things. So she waited a second for the ‘sinking in’ phase before lowering her eyes and twisting her hands together nervously. There always had to be a moment to process the harsh remarks. Perhaps if her act had been the sharp-tongued bitch, or that of a confidant young woman, she could have gotten away with an instant response. But her act was that of a sweet young girl, a little delicate and shy, but with a smile of sunshine. So she let those few seconds of ‘reaction’ pass before stuttering out a reply.

“I d-didn’t mean to d-do that. I d-didn’t… I feel awful for hurting Lowe. I’m a horrible person.” Now if only she could let out a single tear right at that moment - but she couldn’t do those without a spell to help her out. Perhaps it was best that she didn’t, so as to not over-do it. Good actors excelled in subtlety. Small glances at Rose, looking away as if ashamed. Good good.

Next up was supposed to be assurances of ‘Oh sweety, of course you’re not’. That was how people generally worked: a statement of self-hatred followed by reassurances to the contrary. Unless, of course, the person meant to do the reassuring had a heart of ice. Some said that Rose Weasley did, but Carmen didn’t believe it. If anyone had a heart of ice, it was the blonde on the windowsill, not the redhead next to her. She was positive that Rose had more than enough compassion to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Rose didn’t look at Carmen while she spoke, instead choosing to frown at the opposite wall. As the blonde spoke, she creased her forehead even more with every word until it resembled a piece of paper that had been scrunched up and then somebody had attempted to flatten it out again but it refused to be straight. One the one hand she was sure that her own frustrated dilemmas were influencing how she was responding to Carmen. On the other, it had honestly scared her that she could cast such a horrific incantation. Moreover, it was seemingly an impulse reaction type thing, in which she panicked and cast it because of Lowe coming on to her. Not in a billion years would she ever ever agree with that slimeball’s actions being okay, but… but wouldn’t something a little less harmless have done?

Still frowning and unable to come to a conclusion, she opened her mouth and hesitated - a hesitation which she then let turn to a fairly long pause, before finally speaking.

“One bad thing doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person,” she started, her words lacking the confidence that was usually present in her voice. “Maybe just a person who needs to be careful.” She turned to Carmen then, still frowning but giving her more of a questioning gaze, as if to ask if she had said the right thing or not. Had she known how and been less creeped out by what had happened, she might have better comforted the girl. However she didn’t and she was and the only comfort she can offer Carmen is another frustrated sigh to add to the huge number of frustrated sighs she had already sighed that one day. And it wasn’t as if the sigh would actually offer comfort - it was just her being consumed in her own problems once more, which led her to wondering if her self centeredness was why she couldn’t see past what Carmen had done to see the apologetic, innocent little girl that… she hoped (and presumed) was definitely there. Surely anything otherwise was a bad headache paired with a trick of the light.

Pinching and massaging the bridge of her nose, she apologised, “Sorry. I just want people to be aware of how dangerous spells like that are. But — yeah,” she finished lamely, annoyed that she couldn’t even focus enough to form a decent sentence. She didn’t consider herself a master wordsmith at any level, but liked to think she was a bit better than having just ‘but — yeah’ as her reasoning behind something. (Except she wasn’t doing particularly well with reasoning as of late.)

“Then again, I suppose Wynters is thrilled that one of his students can actually produce something, even if it isn’t strictly defense against the dark arts,” she chuckled, and treated herself to a tiny smirk; pleased at the fact that she could at least manage some humour. And picking fun at her least favourite teacher too. (Oh how she longed to actually do some proper work in his class.)

They say your heart is made of ice but they're wrong. You try oh so desperately to stand out, but you're just the same as everyone else. Just thought you ought to know.

♥ Melaina

Tue, 12 Jun 2012 02:28:15 -0400

Oh look, it seems as I’m now a member of the ‘we’ve received creepy, mildly threatening owls and it’s slightly worrying’ club.

Honestly, what do you hope to achieve from sending these?

There once was a rose. It wilted and died.

Tue, 12 Jun 2012 02:25:00 -0400

Setting a bad example for roses everywhere. (I’ll be sure not to follow that trend.)

You're so post modern, I KNOW.

Tue, 12 Jun 2012 02:24:26 -0400

Actually you probably don’t. I doubt you’ve ever really heard of it.

attention whore

Tue, 12 Jun 2012 02:23:42 -0400

Charming.

freckled-face | rose

Mon, 11 Jun 2012 18:52:13 -0400

landon-:

He grinned at the mention of the Quidditch pitch. Maybe they had that in common - the whole Quidditch thing. Or at least, it was somewhat of a common ground. (He wasn’t sure what else they had in common but there was that. And he supposed that knowing himself and knowing what he knew about Rose Weasley, they may not have a lot in common, really) Except, he would probably never understand what she means when and if she describes to him the way it felt like to be up on a broomstick, zooming about in the mid-air, he would never really understand what she was saying. (Maybe a vague idea of it but he highly doubted that) He liked Quidditch enough - followed the national and international teams and their player stats, but that was all in the surface.

Then again, that was probably what he bargained when he decided that he didn’t want to play Quidditch and that he was fine just commentating. Besides, as he thought about it, he figured he was a better commentator now than he would have ever been a Quidditch player anyway.

He raised an eyebrow, looking back at Rose. “Thinking of the pitch, huh?” he said. “My commentating was good that it reminded you of being out there and playing Quidditch.” He paused and a shrugged, a smug, self-satisfied smirk spread across his face. “I know, I know. I told you I’m good,” he added before he turned once again to look out into the window. Landon listened as she spoke, following her commentary - the said Hufflepuff appearing suddenly as they sped up towards the packet of candies who won the battle against a Slytherin who moved a little slowly and thus, loss.

Landon cleared his throat before responding to Rose’s question. “I suppose we can call it a draw, Weasley. And since as you’ve pointed out that I’ve missed the said Hufflepuff girl, we do make quite a team. You, being there to catch anything I’ve missed,” he said, before taking a sip of his butterbeer once more.

Just then, the two girls walked into the pub, shooting them both a look and Rose Weasley roared with laughter, which only caused several more people in the pub to look at them - mostly with a confused, questioning expression on their faces. Landon leaned in forward, and placed his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. With his other hand, he placed a finger on his lips and told her to shhhh, all the while as he stifled his laughter.

When the girls passed them and the heads of the other on lookers had finally turned, Landon chuckled, dropping his hand back to his side. “Obvious much, Weasley?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He hit the nail right on the head. My commentating was so good that it reminded you of being out there and playing Quidditch. Smug bastard, she thought to herself as she found herself unable to stop smiling. Although reluctant to confirm out loud that yes he was that good, her smile made obvious without even needing to open her mouth. She could almost feel the wind tangling through her hair and her muscles tensing up, preparing to stretch out her whole body just to extend her fingers a few centimetres further to catch that snitch. She didn’t suppose he could understand the rush and the thrill. Honestly, she didn’t suppose anybody who wasn’t on a team could understand. Perhaps Landon found his passion in commentating. Perhaps other people found theirs in other things, but hers was most certainly Quidditch. And she was good. Rose knew her place on the pitch.

Commentating? Not as such, apparently, but she was thankful that he wasn’t the type of person to rub in that he had most definitely trumped her. Even going so far as to suggest that they made an excellent team instead of rejecting her suggestion of leaving it as a draw. English and Weasley. It was odd - a victory was a victory and surely the winner deserved the glory? Rose had only ever worked on this principle, it was where her competitiveness stemmed from. Yet perhaps this time it wasn’t so much about the winning as… the taking part? Her morning had certainly taken a turn for the amusing - far from how she imagined events to unfold. Offering a small, bemused laugh she nodded.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the girls’ entrance and her exaggerated laughter that refused to quieten down, even though creating a scene was the last thing she wanting. Thankfully, Landon’s hand was soon over her lips and stifling the laughter she hadn’t intended to be so loud. The situation itself just made it worse though, and it’s only when she hadmanaged to regain some control over her laughing and their younger audience is gone that he leans backward. Her first instinct was too shoot him with a raised eyebrow and a half mocking ‘Oh really?’ look, but it was obvious to both that his actions were much wiser than hers.

“Can’t a girl find something funny, English?” she challenged, smirking a she did so. It’s only the sound of hushed whispers from the table across that cause her smile to falter slightly. Her morning had certainly taken a turn for the amusing - far from how she imagined events to unfold… but her early start had also been delayed. Remembering that real life was a thing she should most likely go and attempt once more brought a few creases to her forehead. The change was sudden and seemingly out of nowhere — but yes, yes. She had things to do and the day was ticking over and those girls were pissing her off and. And it had been so — nice, though. Attempting to regain the playful vibe, she looked up and continued smiling, but started playing with her rings as if agitated, like she was anxious to be someplace or do something. “Anyway. Match is over right? But, um, it was a good one. Good team,” she nodded, standing up and preparing to leave.

With another brief smile and a glower over at the girls’ table, she moved to the door. The only apology for her hurried exit that she gave him was a sheepish, quick smile. And for herself, she can’t even think of a decent excuse. Time was ticking on, she still hadn’t got what she wanted, she couldn’t just hold everything up because she decided to have a laugh with the Quidditch commentator. Except it was more than that and the whispering had bugged her and how easily she had let time slip past her had bugged her. All it took was one little nudge for her to realise that reality was right around the corner. And reality involved actions having consequences and Rose Weasley (because she’s Rose Weasley and she’s pretentious and obnoxious and hipster and icy and isn’t she just) being judged for those actions. Except that wasn’t something she could ever articulate aloud. A small, sheepish smile and shrug was all Rose could offer Landon.

freckled-face | rose

Sun, 27 May 2012 17:44:24 -0400

landon-:

Odd, Landon thought to himself. She was laughing. Rose Weasley, the school’s proclaimed Ice Queen, was laughing. He never really believed what people said about her - sure, she may give off this cool, uninviting air about her but he always felt as though that was probably only to a select few people; like she was one of those people who didn’t really care too much about being surrounded by a lot of people and finding more solace and comfort when they’re surrounded by less people.

He chuckled, cracking a smile somewhat congratulating himself that he’s managed to make Ice Queen laugh. But he wasn’t one to be boastful about these kinds of things - it wasn’t like he was going to go back later to the boy’s dormitory and brag about it to Anthony McLaggen, who he knew was popular with the female (and maybe male, who really knew?!) population at Hogwarts. Almost as though to point to his friend that he was able to do something that McLaggen probably wouldn’t even have a chance to do (McLaggen seemed like one of the people Weasley would cooly brush off). But the whole dominant and struggle to be the alpha male thing was never really his thing - so, he’ll bask in his glory by himself.

And truly, that was good enough for him.

“I would never decide something like that,” he said, with a grin after taking a sip of his butterbeer. “Let’s be real, Weasley, I made the life of a Hogwart’s Quidditch commentator glitzy.”

Landon placed his mug of butterbeer down and rested his arms on top of the table. He leaned in closer and bit his lip, raising his eyebrows as he listened to Rose Weasley. When she finished, he spoke up, nodding once in approval. “I must say, Miss Rose Weasley, that you are quite apt for the role of commentator. Of course, we all know you can’t be as good as me.” He smirked. “So, allow me to continue.” Landon takes the mimed microphone from her hand and places it closer to him.

He cleared his throat, and turned out to the window again as he continued to play along. “A very excellent skill, Miss Weasley,” he nods. “Wailer number three is sure to be one of the MVPs this shopping season. Now, if we observe there,” he points out to the window to a girl trailing behind the group. “That is what we call the dragger. Always behind. Late riser, I presume. Her early morning shopping tactics needs a bit more polishing up! Am I right, Miss Weasley? Or what?”

As he continued where she left off, she narrowed her eyes and quirked the corner of her lips in a playful, challenging manner. Really she didn’t doubt that he was at least ten times better than her, even without the practice he had had in the real matches. He had a sort of charm that she tried to make up for in quickness and wit, but it doesn’t work as well. Where her quidditch skills are top notch, she lacked the natural knack for the commentating thing. As he talked, she couldn’t help but smile. It was nice - reminded her of being on the pitch. One of the few places where she felt that she had a hope of belonging.

The steady flow of commentary caused the corners of her lips to twitch upwards in a smile as her two hands clasped around the drink in her lap, fingers skimming over the rim of the mug. It’s not the first time in the year that she’s had a longing for the pitch. With the delayed Quidditch season, she was getting restless.

Deep in thought, she managed to miss his last few words and raised her head a minute too late. “Hmm? Oh — Oh! Thinking of the pitch, sorry,” she murmured an apology, before quickly shifting back to commentating and mimes stealing the mic straight from his hands.

“And enough of that nonsense as I’m sure our audience will agree,” she joked, casting her eyes around the pub. “Yes, Mr English, the OAPs are very discontent with your performance, I assure you. Mine, however. Well.” After flashing him her best ‘you know you’re going to lose’ face, she shifted her gaze towards the window and the students. “While Mr English’s statement about early risers is correct, he’s also failed to notice the sneaky advancing Hufflepuff who has obviously been feigning slowness throughout the entire match, only to now suddenly accelerate quickly. Eye on the prize as they say, and this girl is certainly looking at those every flavour beans as if they’re her prize. Oh yes, yes, Slytherin’s looking for the last packet but Hufflepuff is quickly closing in, going in for the kill and — there we have it, ladies and gentlemen, the honey badger has beaten the snake in the fight for the ridiculously flavoured confectionery. And if I’m not wrong, the Raven has thwarted the Lion in playing at his own game?”

Eyebrows raised, she gave him a pointed look before launching back into her quick paced observations. “Although here we see a sudden change in tactics from both parties. Leaving the sweets shop, they appear to be…,” the group of girls moved out of sight and away from the view of the window and, so caught up in what she was doing, Rosie even leaned over the table they were sitting at to peer out. When that proved fruitless, she sat back down. “Bugger… call it a draw? If I say so myself I think we’re a marvelous commentating team. The wailing girls should be flattered that we were here to observe their ridiculous actions,” she finished with a laugh, right as the girls in question entered the pub and gave the two of them scandalized expressions, causing Rosie’s laughter to intensify even more. Oops.

i'm so postmodern i had already created an imaginary little brother before you were born but you'll do i suppose | hugo

Sun, 27 May 2012 17:44:20 -0400

meishugo:

Own hands. And matters can easily be taken into them.

He narrowed his eyes at her and for a moment he was going to protest and tell her to stop or that she wouldn’t dare. His gullibility had taken over for a quick, brief moment but he stopped himself and realized that she was just doing what she does best (or at least, one of the things she does best…), which was to rile him up. It must be a sibling thing born from the moment they become siblings - like an unspoken rule or agreement between each other that you’re supposed to get under each other’s skins as much as possible.

She was just teasing, he thought to himself as he grinned like an idiot. “Taking matters into your own hands?” he said, cocking an eyebrow. “Seizing the day? Carpe diem?” Crossing his arms across his chest, he shook his head and shrugged. “Do whatever you want, Posie… but seeing as though Georgina and I have been going out for awhile now, you should’ve done that a long time ago and you still haven’t done it so.”

So, he thought. She was just teasing him. Besides, he figured his sister had better things to do than hunt down his… girlfriend? He cringed at the thought of the word. Is that what Georgina was? Merlin’s tits…

“Things are fine,” he said, as he began walking. Fine. Yeah. Nothing too much has happened. In fact, he’d been keeping things as low key as possible - and he should fix that soon, he thought. And he knew exactly the right person to go to if he wanted to change his current state of being. “Everything is all good good,” he replied. “Are you hungry? I was going to go to the kitchens and have something to eat… I finished gran’s batch of cookies that she sent me last week so I’m short on daily snacks.”

“Ah yes, Hugo dearest, but see I was simply being nice. Up until now. You’ve had your period of freedom, now I want to know all the details. And I’m fairly sure Georgina will be able to give me a better account that you can, so,” she smirked, raising an eyebrow and so obviously teasing that if he falls for it, she’s most definitely going to laugh at him.

Really though, she desperately wanted to meet her, for more than just teasing purposes. It was sappy, but she was having a whole ‘my baby brother’s growing up’ type moment. It seemed odd that only just five years ago he was being sorted to sit among the badgers while she waved at him from the Ravenclaw table. (And in truth she had always felt that teensy bit jealous of him for getting sorted there. Hufflepuffs were generally sweet and accepting, while many Ravenclaws… less so. Tied up in studies and books and while she hated to generalize, she was sure that Hufflepuff house has a nicer atmosphere, even if she was better suited to the Ravens.)

“Just fine? No escapades with Grawp or subjecting Roxy to more of your horrible mainstream music?” she nudged him with her elbow, amused at the fact that, for once, things were just fine. Normally for Weasleys, it was all action and all drama and she couldn’t help but feel like it must be the calm before the storm, or something like that.

And just as he mentioned it, she realised that the only sustenance she had had all day was the coffee that had been in the mug, still in her hands. Food… would be delicious. Even if she only ever ate a fraction of what her brother ate. “Of course you ate all the cookies in a week. Of course. Come on then, let’s go fooding. And after, you’re free to have some of mine. Payment of sorts for lending me the tshirt with the triple triangle on it?”

Mainstream Streams Mainly Modern Posers And Post-Modern Junkies | Rose & Carmen

Sun, 27 May 2012 17:44:16 -0400

darkcarmen:

Rose was the first one to acknowledge Carmen with words, and she latched onto that, wondering if she could twist the situation somehow to cause the redhead’s misfortune. Misfortune beyond something as simple as grey hair, that was. Maintaining eye-contact she bit her lip, playing innocent, timid, and sweet at the same time from her avian perching position on the windowsill. Carmen had not forgotten her 50%-victim act throughout the staring.

“Terrifyingly terrifying?” she chirped, twitching her head to the side in an inquisitive manner. No blinking. Her eyes were watering. “Why do you say that?” It was possible that the girl had witnessed her performing sectumsempra, since it had happened in the middle of the Ravenclaw common room - and even if she hadn’t, the news had certainly gotten around. She had seen the article Ace had written, pulling sympathy for Carmen which suited her just fine. Sympathy was good. Sympathy was what the victim-act was for. ‘Terrifying’ wasn’t a word she wanted associated with her. Terrifying was what went on inside her head, and no one was supposed to know that.

She blinked. On purpose. The thing about the game was that she had no motive to win unless it meant being able to do something unfortunate to her opponent as a reward. But Rose Weasley was talking to her and the thought of turning her hair grey went out the window. It would cause too much suspicion now. Unable to feel pride or any form of competitive spirit, there was no point in trying to win, whereas losing held the slight possibility that the other girl would be in a better mood, and perhaps see her as less ‘terrifying’.

Blinking a few more times to get rid of the dry feeling in her eyes, Carmen made a small giggling sound. A very precise giggle, weak, short, and all around adding to the impression that she was still upset over the events of last week. She had only picked up the more complicated body language such as ironic laughs, forced smiles, and hidden amusement in the past few years. Contradictory emotions confused her, but they worked. “You win,” she added after the blinking and slight giggling. Shifting from her perch, she sat her bum down on the windowsill and swung her legs down to hang against the stone wall. If Rose wished to continue speaking to her, so be it. Unlike other students, she didn’t shy away from Rose, or from anyone really.

Although treating Carmen to one of her famous quirked eyebrows, she didn’t question her and couldn’t help the little satisfied smile that spread across her lips. Rose valued a victory and wasn’t in a position to doubt something if she had just won. As odd and… off as the younger girl seemed, she supposed that she wasn’t the most normal person in the school either and a harmless staring competition wasn’t a sign of a secret axe murderer or an alien parading around in a fifteen year old’s skin. (Although she was sure it could be if she searched hard enough through the sci-fi section of the muggle library not far from home.

“Well. Horaay for me, I suppose.”

Still having not answered Carmen’s question from before Rose’s victory, she furrowed her brow and leaned against the wall next to Carmen’s windowsill seat. She pondered the answer silently, unsure of how to properly articulate her feelings. Mainly, it was the fact that instead of a simple self defense charm, she had used sectumsempra. She had been raised on war stories and tales of dark wizards who did horrifying deeds. From birth, her sense of right and wrong had been coded into her genetics and even if it was just a silly hunch because she acted a little strange, Rosie couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable. Also coded into her genetics was that determination and braveness that, although mostly went to her cousins, brushed off on her as she was growing up. And that was what led her to opening her mouth to speak instead of walking away, like she possibly should have. Still, what was the worst that could possibly come from a conversation? Surely nothing.

“I’m a little concerned that somebody in the same year as my brother can send somebody the same year as me to the hospital wing, if I’m honest. Lowe was repulsive and digusting and I’m sorry, but really wouldn’t simple self defense spells have done?” she replied, her voice sounding a little harsh.

Almost immediately she felt guilty. If the girl was completely innocent and Rosie was just acting paranoid, then she was probably taking what must have been a horrible experience for her and just making it worse. The build up of stress and worry that had been festering in her mind was refusing to be bottled up and she had accidently let it spill over and almost blame Carmen. Quickly, she tried to backtrack, “I mean —,” but she gave up before she could continue any further, knowing that the real issue that had her thoughts all knotted up wasn’t anything to do with the younger girl.

ooc | yes i have stuff to do yes

Sun, 27 May 2012 16:29:58 -0400

yoloisms:

~~rosie/hugo~~

~~rosie/landon~~

rosie/carmen

~~noah/william~~

~~lo/robert~~

anything else???

Photo

Thu, 24 May 2012 16:29:16 -0400

Photo

Thu, 24 May 2012 11:55:21 -0400

Photo

Thu, 24 May 2012 11:31:02 -0400

Photo

Thu, 24 May 2012 08:43:00 -0400

Photo

Thu, 24 May 2012 02:03:04 -0400

Mainstream Streams Mainly Modern Posers And Post-Modern Junkies | Rose & Carmen

Thu, 24 May 2012 01:58:44 -0400

darkcarmen:

It was the weekend and therefore no classes. Carmen had left the Ravenclaw common room around mid-day, because she knew that her pity-me act would wear thin if she kept it up for too many hours at a time. The incident with Derek Lowe had occurred nearly a week ago now. She had set herself precisely two weeks to recover from the ‘trauma’, so that meant she ought to be about fifty-percent recovered at the present. It was just maths to her. The incident had done several good things including letting her act withdrawn and antisocial without it being out of character for the act she always put on. Getting away with near-murder was also pretty pleasing, though she had encountered some conflict with Ace Pruitt there. She wouldn’t be talking about that one, though.

As far as anyone was concerned, Carmen was doing homework. Really, she was supposed to be doing homework because she had a Loring essay due on Monday which she hadn’t started, and any student in their right mind would be panicking right about now. But instead of reaching the library she was now in the second-floor corridor, perched on a narrow windowsill, very much like a bird in the way that she squatted, balancing her thin body on her toes. It was as good a place as any to avoid people. She could fix a blank gaze at any student who looked her way. A few partook in the staring contest. If they won, she let them get away without harm. She they lost, she charmed their hair grey. It was a charm she had learned just a few weeks ago. There were now three people walking around Hogwarts with old-person hair, hopefully without knowing the culprit, though a detention wouldn’t exactly put Carmen off.

Waiting for the next student to make eye contact, she found her next victim in Rose Weasley. No blinking, that was her rule. And her eyes had already gone a little watery from the last few staring contests, but it have given her practice. She would quite like to make that vibrant ginger hair grey. Rose Weasley and Carmen Wild were on opposite ends of the scale, in a way. Carmen always did everything in her power to appear completely normal and mainstream (and perching on a windowsill really wasn’t that odd, considering the type of pranks usually pull by students), whereas she knew Rose to be anything but. Normal and anti-normal. Carmen didn’t understand the point in trying to stand out and trying to be different. It was more practical to blend in. Her inability to feel had left her with no desire to stand out from the crowd, so she didn’t understand the point of Rose’s mindset in the slightest.

Getting to her. That’s exactly what she was letting it do and exactly what she had vowed not to let things do a good while ago. It was getting to her and she wanted to stop it from getting to her, so forgetting that there was even anything that could get at her was the easiest alternative to what she had been doing - frowning and pacing and sighing and frowning. Tugging on a cardigan (her muggle grandmother’s, stolen from a suitcase of old treasures from the sixties) she left the blank piece of parchment and the quill that hadn’t written anything and left her worries behind in her dorm. (Except she didn’t ever leave her worries behind her and that was her problem, not the letter she hadn’t written.)

She walked at a quick pace. Too fast for anybody to talk to her; quick enough for words to be lost if anybody tried calling out. She liked walking alone, preferring the sound of her shoes tapping against the floor to the natter of conversation that she wasn’t even interested in. To others, it was more than a matter of her simply wanting to be alone. It was her being cold and aloof and so much better than everybody else because they were oh so mainstream. Although she hardly helped the situation. Her only response to being asked why she acted the way she was usually included the words ‘too’ and ‘mainstream’ in a half ironic display of irony that wasn’t even ironic. As she walked, she stuck her thumbnail in her mouth. Didn’t bite, just pressed her fingers to her lips in thought. Thinking, thinking always thinking. Her head felt like it would tick over if she thought some more. Briefly raising her eyes, she surveyed the milling students around her. Most didn’t care for the odd, too tall ginger girl and those who did catch her eyes looked down out of politeness. At least she hoped it was politeness. Adding ‘intimidating’ to the list of words use to describe her wasn’t something she would be particularly happy to do. Her reputation was ridiculous already - she didn’t want to be seen as scary on top of that. The exception, however, was a small blonde creature perched on a ledge, watching her. Intently. Staring unblinkingly.

“Terrifyingly sweet and terrifyingly… terrifying, little blonde one,” she said by way of greeting as she walked a few steps closer, tipping her head to one side but not breaking eye contact. The recent news would have been enough to make her wary of Carmen, but more than once her eyes had flicked to her across the common room as she sat in her corner armchair and observed those around her. She appeared as being made of sugar and spice and all things nice. But windowsill perching and staring as well as being able to cast sectumsempra made Rosie skeptical of her outward appearance.

Regardless of whether she was or wasn’t totally creepy, she wasn’t going to let somebody just outstare her like that. Perhaps it was that bit of stubborn Gryffindor in her blood. Folding her arms across her chest she raised one of her eyebrows, as if to say ‘game on’.

with battered hearts recovering

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objet trouvé

Not everything is about you.

i'm so postmodern i had already created an imaginary little brother before you were born but you'll do i suppose | hugo

Mainstream Streams Mainly Modern Posers And Post-Modern Junkies | Rose & Carmen

They say your heart is made of ice but they're wrong. You try oh so desperately to stand out, but you're just the same as everyone else. Just thought you ought to know. ♥ Melaina

There once was a rose. It wilted and died.

You're so post modern, I KNOW.

attention whore

freckled-face | rose

freckled-face | rose

i'm so postmodern i had already created an imaginary little brother before you were born but you'll do i suppose | hugo

Mainstream Streams Mainly Modern Posers And Post-Modern Junkies | Rose & Carmen

ooc | yes i have stuff to do yes

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Mainstream Streams Mainly Modern Posers And Post-Modern Junkies | Rose & Carmen

They say your heart is made of ice but they're wrong. You try oh so desperately to stand out, but you're just the same as everyone else. Just thought you ought to know.

♥ Melaina