She didn't have a heart.

"You are being self-pitying."

"I'm nearly done. You don't have much more of this to bear."

"Crushed and broken. Just the way women like 'em."

"You're the table everyone wants at Starbucks,"

"No. I thought you were dead in a ditch.”

"Don't panic. Are you sitting? You probably don't need to sit. Well, possibly. At least lean on something."

"His name wasn't really Butternut, was it?"

"He asked for a specific. I gave him a specific. I'm sorry it wasn't puppies."

"I'm always straight."

"Oh, man, that's the biggest lie you've ever told.”

"I wish you wouldn't call him that."

"If we go that way, it seems less like we’ll be shot for trespassing. We can’t be low profile because of your shirt."

"Kick him in the nuts. Then run the other way."

"I don't know what I want. I don't know what the hell I am."

“Keep poking things with your stick and it’ll be okay.”

“You’re looking for a god. Didn’t you suspect that there was also a devil?”

"He threw me out the window!"

“So what you're saying is you can't explain it."

"Don't fucking swear,"

“Smiling when you say that doesn’t make it funny,”

“There aren't terrible ideas. Just ideas done terribly.”

“Maybe you mean to be, but in case you’re just being accidentally creepy, I thought I’d let you know.”

“Secrets and cockroaches — that’s what will be left at the end of it all.”

"You should say sorry when you kill something."

“You can be just friends with people, you know,"

"I like the way you losers thought Instagram before first aid. Fuck off.”

"Stop watching me,"

“I wasn't talking to you, ___. I need someone with a soul.”

"I'm dead, Not stupid.”

"Go be short somewhere else.”

“Okay, get out of here. Scram. Farewell,"

"Excelsior."

                                       Headcanon meme~

                                 ■ -  Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Walburga’s parents were  y o u n g  when they had her at the young age of thirteen. While they were finishing up their schooling and busy raising her little brothers, most of her childhood, Walburga was raised by her grandparents who were heavily raised and influence by the late 1700s and early 1800s pureblood ideals. Them and tutors drilled in the ways of the pureblood ideals and decor into Walburga’s head that influences the Ancient and the Most Noble House of Black. 

Only  r e s p e c t a b l e  families had their beheaded house elve’s head lining up the stair case, those who had the HONOR and BLESSING thrust upon them to serve the Black family. Dim, candle lighting gave off the allure of a more higher standing, allowing shadows to overwhelm the house. Wood was always pristine. Always polished. Always dusted. Always foreign. The sheets were always silk. The thread count always high. And the art work is always valuable and ancient. Portraits of past members littered the house, those who upheld the Black name and did not get disowned and brainwashed by blood traitors and mudbloods to allow the heirs to KNOW who to look up to. 

"I was going through the family tree –––––––––––––” 

                      The volume of her voice dialed down, elbows dug into                       the ancient dinner table and fingers laced together.

“Lupin, you said?” 

“So, it’s TRUE. My  d i s o w e n e d  son is living         with a bunch of blood traitors.” 

“And how are your studies going?”

                     Her interests were  l a c k i n g  at best in his personal                      growth,    but the growing tension between the eldest                      scum heir was becoming increasingly clear that she                      had to whip THIS one into shape.

“Fascinating.” 

                    A dull tone flickered from her tongue, the rim of her                     goblin  met her thin  lips  before taking  a sip of the                     finest wine the party had to offer.