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I'm just a pretty boy, whatever you call it

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August 16th, 2008

06:22 am - Poets of the Fall - Carnival of Rust

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April 14th, 2008

03:56 pm - Bunny cam

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December 15th, 2003

01:56 am - [Private]
It's deep and so unhealthy
The rest you know
I feel the hands that felt me

Cold hands
Your hands
Cover my mouth
While I'm staring into bright lights

Malpractice; Faith No More

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December 12th, 2003

05:58 pm - [Private.]
Empath, he says. When I've tried so very long, so very hard not to feel anything at all. Feeding off pure desperation. And that detached part of me is, as ever, without, and watching with amused curiosity whether this would be the thing that finally... breaks me.

So I asked him to teach me magic - practical, defensive magic that we should have learned at school, had our DADA teachers been half-way competent. And things that we never would have been taught, regardless. He conceded. The bitter part of me almost wishes he hadn't.

I just can't let it.

And it must have been the potion, some toxic shock or side-effect, but last night I think... [/private]

I had the strangest dream.

Thank Marlin the term is over. I can't wait to get out of here.

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December 9th, 2003

07:09 am - [Private.]
I know that most think the study of Potions is all about splashing crushed beetles and eyes of a newt into boiling water and seeing what happens, but a part of the refined art actually has to do with observing both the magical and the natural properties of the ingredients, making calculations and graphs, ink on parchment, Ministry stamped, have a good day. I know this, which also means that I know what I'm doing is highly illegal and against every professional ethical code (but since I'm not even old enough to have an actual, official apprentice-ship yet, I'm not going to worry too much about that, am I?)

Oh, I do most of the research on paper, too (well, actually, in my head, but let's not get technical about it... I think there actually was a memo circulating in my first year in Slytherin about The Things You Should Not Write Down, Ever), but a part of creating something new is the unstability and unaccountability, uncertainty of chemical reactions. The little impurities and variables you can't account for. So I'm forced to try certain things out in the realm of the physical.

I'm now almost convinced that the alkaloids in black henbane (hyoscyamine, atropine) would have the desired effects in relation to the nervous system, but I'm still highly unsure about the dosage. It will also require something (white snakeroot, perhaps?) to counter the toxicological side-effects before I can even think of testing it. I don't know if by now my body is starting to build up a resistance for all the poisons I've tried over the years, or if the toxins are just accumulating, soon to reach lethal amounts. (Yes, yes, the immortality of teenage. Thank you. I am aware of the dangers, but a part of me is willing to admit that I care very little what happens to me. It's just one of those things that come to pass when you're five years old and realize that the assassin against whom no lock can hold doesn't seem to be coming for you, no matter how much you beg for it. And I'm not even doing this for me this time... mostly. Very few selfless acts seem to have unselfish motives in the end.

And I don't know... maybe I'd need it myself, as well, but I never seem to dream. Or if I do, I don't remember my dreams, any of them. Sometimes, when I'm awake, there'll be flashes, a thought, a memory, that are swiftly and easily repressed. -- Unhealthy, perhaps, yes; but I don't want to think about it, so I don't. If there's one thing I've always strived for, it's self-control -- and I also know that it's something I will always keep clinging onto, even if it is now being slowly stripped down and taken away, piece by piece, touch by touch. So it goes.)

The other absolutely essential ingredient is the essence of jimson weed, as extracted from the actual flower of the plant. It shouldn't be too difficult to come by, we seem to have a nice stock of all manners of datura (it's the disappearing boomslang skin that bothers me... and I don't know whether I'm worried more by the thought that Severus needs it in those amounts for the potion he's been taking ever-so-stealthily, or that it might be used by students for God knows what end), perhaps to be countered by death camas or stinging nettle. I'll soon find out.

And I also think that I will have the potion finished by Christmas, as long as Severus has some kind of a laboratory set up in the Eaton house. I suspect that he does, but I don't know how to go about asking (... my nasty, greasy, stunningly sexy Potions teacher gave us an assignement for the holidays! No? Right. For the love of Merlin - I'm Slytherin, I'm supposed to be able to come up with good, clean, believable lies as easily as other people breathe), and telling the truth is something I'd rather not resort to. Candor makes me feel dirty, and besides, it's supposed to be a surprise.

But I'll think of something. Probably. I need to do this for him.

I need to do this for myself.

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December 7th, 2003

09:43 pm
logCollapse )

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December 6th, 2003

05:13 pm - Metaphor for a missing moment
Astronomy EssayCollapse )

Why does it have to hurt so much?

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05:12 pm - [Private.]
Urgh. Sap.Collapse )

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December 5th, 2003

04:25 pm
NC-17 - Sex and MagicCollapse )

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December 3rd, 2003

01:41 pm - [Private.]
I'm not even sure why I went into the common room yesterday. I always tell myself that it's just to check up on the children, but I know these children are Slytherin. They're survivors, they'll be alright in the end. And of course I had to get into a my-wand-is-bigger-than-yours competition with Seth while I was there. Naturally. Unavoidably.

I know from Goyle père that he did take the Mark, and it sure as fuck hasn't made him any less dangerous. I know that if I had to spend my nights in the dormitories I'd be a nervous wreck from lack of sleep, expecting to find a knife stabbed into my heart one morning.

Eh, what am I talking about. I am a nervous wreck from lack of sleep.

But my wand is bigger.

Later I discovered Severus sleeping on his desk. Bole didn't show up, so on top of writing a two-foot essay on the Goblin Rebellions, I actually had to teach the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw second year class, and I'm afraid to even think what the board of governors would think about this if they find out. I may know more about Potions than most sane people my age, but I hardly qualify as a teacher. And even though I know Mr. Malfoy is on the board, for Severus' sake I hope they never do find out. He already seems to be hanging on by the last thread.

But you really are the only thing I want for Christmas. Although a certain amount of nudity in front of a crackling hearth wouldn't hurt.

And while I'm at it, I might just as well wish for world peace and puppies for everyone, or what ever.

And... and... Reading some of these Gryffindor essays, I really don't know whether to laugh or cry, or do both, or just to faint from utter disbelief. [/private] You do not, ever, mix elderberry with powdered bloodroot unless you're actually trying to kill someone. And even if that was the case, I'd still suggest something else, possibly from the toxicodendron family, or at least making sure that you're not the one who discovers the body. It's not very pretty, I can assure you.

What's wrong with you people?

And which ever of you little Hufflepuff girls (or boys) slipped me the note after class -- love potions are not in the curriculum. Not only are some of the most potent ones considered dark magic in their own right, they are also banned by the Ministry. So unless you wish to spend your formative years in Azkaban, I suggest you do not attempt to brew them, and suffer the all-consuming pains of unrequited teenage love, just like the rest of us.


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