die a legend

❝ sleep with your limbs dangling off the bed to let the monsters know you're willing. ❞

[naomiswatt-deactivated20190530]

[meet-me-onthe-equinox]

‘‘I have a lot of really useful talents, but none of them are really good for this competition.’’

[doesmeadow]

lupyns:

        “ you realize that NOT CONFIRMED FACT is an oxymoron., right? ”   he arched his brow, a sigh escaping his lips as he took an impressively               large gulp of his drink. was this his second? perhaps third? regardless,       he was nearing the bottom and in need of a serious refill, ESPECIALLY if  dorcas was going to continue with her theories. dumbledore had done a         lot for the man, yet he couldn’t seem to pull enough effort to give a shit.  the man was suspicious to say the least; whatever help he gave remus                       didn’t fix the fact that he might’ve been DIRTY.  

               “ who or what is this source anyway? your GUT?                                        your karate chop? and even if it’s true.         who the fuck cares what fabric’s rubbin’                                   up on dumbledore at night? ”

"Fine, if you want to be perfectly accurate, a very likely rumor." She spoke without even glancing at him, her eyes still drifting between her empty glass and the window they sat next to. None of her words were directed to him, but rather to the nosy woman sitting behind her, so she carried on. "Aren't you a buzzkill?" At last, Dorcas looked up, a smirk on her lips. Her stories had begun long before the man had arrived, and one listener in particularly had kept an eye on her ever since - no amount of stalling seemed to steer the other woman away when the two needed some privacy to discuss secret matters. "My sources are safely anonymous." She shrugged, helplessly watching time go by. Their eavesdropper showed no signs of leaving, and Dorcas had enough. She had places to be, lies to tell, stuff to burn - no time to stick around dragging a story about embezzlement. "So, how's the swimming team treating you? Are they a competitive lot?" Remus was a smart man, he'd know what she was asking about. She reached for his drink (his third), as her glass was empty and he'd be too busy talking anyway.

[bifl3xible]

I could be sad about it, or I could take ten shots and pretend it never happened

[doesmeadow]

"And this is all explained with another not confirmed fact, but my sources are solid. Dumbledore was embezzling funds. Yes, let that one sink in." Dorcas finished yet another sensationalistic story at a poorly lit bar - she found that interested gossipers tended to keep glasses full in exchange of more juice details. "I mean, have you touched his robes? That's some good quality stuff. You know his salary isn't enough for that. I bet Harold Minchum was in on it."

[doesmeadow]

benjyfenwickers:

“Something like that. Wanted revenge.”

He would’ve let her keep her game going for longer, but today words strung themselves together like sluggish earth worms in his head. It wasn’t a good day. He sighed quietly as the added weight of her head fell against his legs, but didn’t move otherwise. “Not in so many words. Good thing I feel better than I look.”

A lie. But he would say anything to get her guilt to silence. The closer she got the louder it was and the heavier it felt on him, like another scratchy, uncomfortable hospital blanket. He fell hush for a little while, finding his words. 

“You really ought to work on your bedside manner,” he said instead. 

Part of her was glad he'd cut short their back and forth, aware that she'd drag it out for as long as possible just to avoid any serious conversations. His reply reeked of lies, and Dorcas was good at identifying those, a skill learned through being a liar herself and has a part of her day job. "Don't do that."

His silence made it all more uncomfortable, as her mind went wild about all the things he could be thinking about, but she didn't comment on it, focusing on the ceiling instead. His words washed over her - they were jovial and without the baggage she'd expected. "I thought I was acing it. I wanted to be a nurse when I was little," she lied, she'd wanted to be a pilot up til the day she learned dragons were real, "so that was hurtful."

Silence followed her words too, and it stretched out for too long until her voice broke it again, more discreet than before, as if she was letting him in on a secret. "I left you. I didn't even think about going back. I didn't consider you at all until I heard your name in some healers' conversation."

[kiwikiwiandkiwi]

[nocontextb99]

[doesmeadow]

benjyfenwickers:

On a better day, he would have had something smarter to say, something to one up the game she was playing. But both of them knew it wasn’t a better day. He could barely keep his eyes open and he didn’t move off his side to look at her when she came in.

“…My shoes didn’t have laces,” he said flatly, though the sharpness evaporated quickly on his soft voice. At least that detail was still clear to him. He felt the bed dip and with it her drifting cloud of guilt traversed the rest of its length until it came to settle up in his head, taking up residence with the uncomfortable throb. He didn’t mind it though, her guilt. At least in the way that he was confused as to why it was there in the first place. He wasn’t angry, if that’s what she thought. He could barely remember seeing her before the chaos started. He could barely remember the chaos as it was. In response to her question he merely shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at his side.

She pushed out a faint laugh from better days, when she'd find that statement amusing. It really wasn't a better day. "Sorry, got sob stories mixed. Did you trip on a leaf then?" Slowly, Dorcas let herself lie back until all of her back was resting against the mattress, some of it over his feet. "You look like shit. Has someone told you that already?"

Emotions were a hard thing to tackle. Dorcas never knew which she should feel, when, and how much of them. Her extreme level of exhaustion wasn't helping her get a hold of herself at all but, between making a genuine effort to stay and comfort her friends, especially Marlene, and the occasional breaks from it all, there had been no time for real sleep. "Could be worse. Could be dead." She kept pushing out words, unnecessary as they were. As long as she was moving and speaking, there wasn't much room left for thinking. Even if her thoughts could always fill every room she walked in.

[greyingshepherd]

[doesmeadow]

@benjyfenwickers

"Hey, loser. Heard you tripped on your shoelaces." Dorcas announced her presence, walking into the room with a half-smile. Her thoughts of worry and guilt were covered in twenty layers of forced smirks, but she would not let herself show those feelings to him just yet. "Enjoying your beauty sleeps?" She sat on the edge of his bed, her eyes never meeting him. She couldn't look at him. Her friend. Hurt. Dorcas had barely considered searching for him during the wedding - Benjy Fenwick could handle himself just fine. 'It's much more likely he'll find my dead body anyway' was what she thought about in order to drown concerns. She'd left without ever looking back, and that was the result. There were no other visitors in the room - Dedalus must have finally gone home to change and perhaps sleep. It wasn't the first time she'd been visited Benj, but the first one he was awake for, or at least seemed conscious enough to notice her.

[brittany-murphy]

[doesmeadow]

dorcas clementina meadowes  —  a witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest, because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was  H E R 

[kieraknightley]

[doesmeadow]

regulusaarcturus:

@doesmeadow ;

It was no surprise the pub was deserted. In the light of the Longbottom’s  tragic wedding reception most of the usual occupants were in the hospital nursing wounds,  or simply seeking refuge from any more potential attacks.       Never mind  the  fact  that Death Eaters had better things  to  do than chase up some sad alcoholics, and Regulus knew it.

He was in his usual spot:  a small, round table in the back, a now-warm drink cupped between his thin fingers.     He watched  the  amber  liquid  move  with  each  twirl of the chipped glass  against  the  dark  of  the  wood  table. He liked  it  here,  alone  and  swallowed  in  shadow.  It  was comfortable, he supposed, and safe.  As safe as he could be,   anyway.     His  gaze  shot  up  at  the  quiet  ping  of the door opening, and he almost smiled. Almost. 

“You’re late. And three drinks behind. Grab a seat.”

For once, she'd promised to stay. After the attack, she followed her friends to the hospital and traveled between rooms, gave honest first reports to inquiring aurors and comforted those waiting for news as best as she could. Eventually, it all became too much. Too many looks, too many cries, too many bruises, too many coffees that did nothing but keep her alert. Before she could hold herself, the woman had gone back to Aya's and changed from her party attire to her regular clothes. Regular. As if nothing had happened.

The next obvious move would be to get as drunk as possible, in her regular pub with her surprisingly regular company. The place was as empty as she'd imagined, for which she could only be thankful. Her feet moved slowly between the tables until the discreet one in the back - she looked t i r e d. She felt even more. There were still some braids in her hair, a mark of the party that she'd been too exhausted to get rid off. "Good. Let me catch up." Dory sat across the table from him, sinking into the chair. "You're buying."

[doesmeadow]

benjyfenwickers:

He gave her an odd look as kneeled down where he could feel the point of one of Al’s intricately placed wards, inspecting the work before glancing up at her again, brow furrowed. He was almost sure she hadn’t meant to say that the way she did. Almost.

“No. Sexually frustrated, maybe. Seen Hestia around?”

He returned to his work, poking at prodding at the spell around the grounds but finding nothing there either. In typical Al fashion, it was pristine. Then what was it? If it wasn’t the wards, he couldn’t be sure what was causing the unrest in his head- more unrest than usual. He couldn’t pinpoint it. It seemed to be coming from everywhere. With a sigh, he straightened out again, arms folding carefully over his chest as he gave her a look. “Yeah, Vegas wedding, fifth year. She dumped me the next day. It was sad.” Eye roll. “Ain’t my type, honestly. Did date an opera singer once though.”

She glanced at Benjy, focused on the wards of the venue, but didn't pay much attention to him. That had a different meaning when it came to Dorcas. She was always in a state of some observance, listening in and registering the details, but decided to shift her gaze to the party where she should be. Dorcas had perhaps overstated the reaction to her speech. Sure, some people found it unnecessary, and the bride was probably on an Ingrid hunt, but most had carried on celebrating - yet she still fled. It as comforting having some company while running away from the party, hiding in the outskirts. One foot in and another foot out.

Dorcas cackled at the unexpected answer, turning on her heels towards him. "Yeah, running off with one the groomsmen." This time she didn't take her eyes off him, expecting him to notice her unrelenting gaze. "I knew it. Sorry, your heart was broken. Nice to learn you have one, though." Despite smiling at her friend, her eyes still hadn't left him. "We'll circle back to the opera singer later but, first, what the hell are you doing? I know you aren't inspecting the grass." She got closer to him once again, the slight smirk on her lips disguising her thoughts to the one person she couldn't. "For the record, they're overwatered and-" It changed in the blink of an eye. Whatever words Dorcas had planned faded away and the casual expression on her face was replaced by a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Her hand reached for the wand in her purse and in another blink it was ready to fire. Her other hand moved in Benjy's direction because she positioned her arm in front of his torso, as if both holding him back and protecting him. Only the last immediate reaction was one that surprised her. All because of one scream that cut through the chatter and song.

[narcotic]