lion hearted girl

Dominique Weasley, Dom, if you please. A trouble maker and proud of it. I'm seventeen, and I'm in seventh year. The good old red and gold.

[explodingly]

Quidditch Captain...

Oh, God, I tried out on a bet, don't you understand that, a bet, how in hell did Minnie Mac let this happen dear Merlin, I can't do this, Quidditch Captain? I didn't ASK FOR THIS.

Oh, cool. Let's do this.

[explodingly]

[explodingly]

DEAR DOM WHO IS A DOLL I DARE YOU TO SEND A HOWLER OF YOUR RAUNCHIEST BELCH TO PROFESSOR IMMAR AND LET HER ENJOY THE LOVELINESS THAT IS YOUR, well not that it's your voice, 'SINGING' TALENT~

OH. OH. OH. OKAY, MISTER WOOD, YOU ARE SO ON. SO ON ITS CRAZY.

[explodingly]

frission

Frissoff!

[explodingly]

If I get prefect I will burn this school to the ground.

oxoxoxox, luv ya!!!!!

[explodingly]

You're not just another Weasley. You're THE Weasley. You're who I think about when I hear the name.

I- ugh. I mean, all us Weasleys are just as good as the last. All of us deserve the family name. But I mean... that just means a lot to me. Yeah, I dunno, it just. Means a lot.

[muldew-blog]

ooc:　

rosalie and scorp

dom and grayson

megan and deacon

megan and nathaniel

[explodingly]

[explodingly]

the sun won't shine if you're not looking | fittest mate in hogwarts~

[dancinginglitterconfetti-deacti]

Dominique’s laughter started up a round of his own. It was already funny when he thought it, said it, but now that she was laughing at it without even knowing the context, he found himself laughing harder still. It was like he’d let slip an inside joke, but nobody got it but himself. And it was hilarious. He threw his hands over his face in an effort to stifle his laughter, and eventually did so. Wiping at his own eyes, and he would blame Dom for starting it all, he flashed her a grin.

“Yes, you do. It was during the body swap paranoia. Damien wasn’t used to having more flesh on his skeletal frame; he didn’t take it well.” There, a few short sentences of explanation didn’t give away the entirety of the situation. Nobody needed to know about all of that, but just the general bits were okay to tell.

“Oh yes, a death party! Have you ever heard of those? You can give the first one ever, you’re welcome!” And now he kind of felt sad that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy his own death party. Everyone would be having fun and eating cupcakes and dancing while he laid dead in a polished golden casket at the front of a hall. Of course, it was only golden in his head, and he wouldn’t be corrected.

At the sound of Dom’s finger guns ‘going off’, he let his head loll to the side and poked his tongue out of the side of his mouth. You know, like a proper dead person. And then she said ‘Ah, fuck!’ and claimed her gun was broken. He screwed up his face, then lifted his hands to his head where she’d shot him.

“Well, fuck,” he repeated, sitting up again and crossing his arms. “What’re we do to now, since I can’t be dead and you can’t plan my death party?” Now both of their plans were ruined.

[explodingly]

Dom's mouth dropped open at the explanation. "Oh. My. God." She shook her head, incredulously, her eyes wide. "You know, that body swap was fucking crazy. God, I felt… I mean, obviously I couldn't look, that's, I don't know what it is, but it's crossing some serious boundaries, you know? But I will say… being you was pretty awesome, Grayson Wood. It was an honour being inside this thing," she said, poking at his stomach. "I'm a visionary, obviously," she grinned. "Maybe I should go in to the Death Day Planning Business. I probably won't have any competition. And hey, you know, more people die every day, I'll never run out of business." Regardless of the fact that she'd probably vomit at the sight of the dead person, maybe she could do that. "Well," Dom thought for a moment. It wasn't like she'd had anything planned. "I know a secret passage to the Hog's Head. I'll buy you a drink to celebrate your alive-ness. I'm legal for it now, you know. Even though you aren't. But we'll keep that under-wraps." She stood up, pulling him with her. "I just need to get changed, come along. You can help me look like a decent human being."

[blairsalvatore]

Deborah Ann Woll - HBO’s True Blood Season 5 Premiere (May 30, 2012)

[explodingly]

the sun won't shine if you're not looking | fittest mate in hogwarts~

[dancinginglitterconfetti-deacti]

Grayson continued to lay there, unmoving in his ‘death bed’ even as Dom came around to sit beside him. He curled his legs up and leaned them against the back of the couch so he wouldn’t be squishing the poor girl against the arm.

He didn’t even flinch when he felt her fingers press against the side of his head, which was saying something as he’d had his eyes closed and hadn’t been expecting it. He’d asked for a quick death, and if she knew some brilliant way to do it with finger guns, then so be it.

Last words? They had to be good ones, something that would leave a good memory of him behind, his legacy, something for younger years to hear and say ‘oh yes, that was Grayson Wood’. Something that would inspire pranksters to shine and attempt to break his record for ‘the most detentions due to chaotic situations’ and the like. But no. Unfortunately for those younger years he should’ve been inspiring, the only thing that came to mind was a quote from Damien, and probably from the lowest point in his life. “My last words, and make certain this goes on my tombstone, is ‘My hips, Grayosn, my hips.’” And although he was being completely serious, he started sniggering.

“Who else would I want speaking at my funeral, than the Duchess of Pranking herself? I know you’d talk me up in my eulogy, so yes. Make me look good, yeah? My guest list would comprise of everyone and anything that shows up, including the elves. It’d make their day to cater, and don’t make it a sad event. I want dancing and a disco ball and make sure Damien and Jules get married, because I won’t have it any other way.”

At her question, he opened his eyes and sat up so he could get a good look at her. “I think your legs are just right, to be quite honest. I can only think of two people in the school who could rock them, and you’re one of them. However, I’m sure there’s going to be at least one professor who’ll complain, so give them a fuck off for me and continue on your way.” He then leaned back and closed his eyes. “Okay, I’m ready.” And he fell silent again.

[explodingly]

"Alright," Dom said, completely and utterly prepared with her pefectly straight face to take on anything he could shoot out at her. Except that. She broke, at first, looking at him with complete incredulity, and then, as it built up inside of her, shaking her chest, a complete explosion of laughter. "Oh, Merlin," she said, through her laughs. "Tears, Grayson, there are tears in my eyes. What does that even mean?! Actually. I don't want to know." Composing herself, and re-straightening out her hair, she put on her solemn expression again. "Right, of course."

"Of course, of course," she said, "I've already got some good stuff planned, so that won't be an issue," she smiled, waving her hand flippantly. Alright, and so I guess I'll just cast a couple of exploding spells to write it in the sky above the castle? 'Grayson Wood's Death Party. Bring cupcakes'.  And I'll make sure there's no crappy horrendous music playing, only the best for you. Can we go for Dancing Queen as your body's lowered? I think it would be a nice touch, don't you?" Dom nodded at Grayson, holding a hand to her heart. "I solemnly swear. Even if I have to be the minister."

Dom grinned, looking down to admire her own legs. "Yeah, I agree," she nodded, smiling. "Okay," she nodded, "are you ready for this? Hanging on the edge of your seat?" she raised her finger gun to Grayson's temple. "It's been nice, Grayson Wood. Three, two, one-" she made a loud psschkewoo sound, mimicking and explosion. But of course, nothing happened. "Ah, fuck," she said, tapping her fingers on her leg. "Must be broken. What an anti-climax, right? I was so pumped up for your death party. Oh, well. I guess you'll have to go on with life, then, like the rest of us sorry fools."

[explodingly]

the sun won't shine if you're not looking | fittest mate in hogwarts~

[dancinginglitterconfetti-deacti]

Grayson was bored, completely and utterly bored. So bored that, if he boreded any more, he would’ve literally died from the pathetic boredom he was suffering from. For once, his work was done, so he didn’t even have that sad little excuse for something to do. He’d even finished all of his detentions, and that was saying something. He almost resented Katie for having lessened his load, since he was certain Puckett might’ve given him at least another week.

He was lying on his back in the middle of the common room, head lolling from side to side as he desperately tried napping, but sleep would not come. He’d been there for at least an hour and a half now, and not a soul had trudged through to step on him. That could’ve at least been grounds for ‘You stepped on me, you owe me a snowball fight!’ or something just as good. But no. Here he was, silently succumbing to a lethal case of boredom.

And then he heard it. The heavenly sound of footfalls, but he couldn’t judge how far away they were. It didn’t matter anyway, because he knew they were coming toward him, and that was enough to pique his interest. He closed his eyes, and he found himself grinning at the tell-tale sign that these were ‘death heels’, and who did he know that frequented those? Well, Jillian Cobblermill would’ve been first on his list, but as she didn’t live in his House, he only had one other guess.

“Dom, darling, have you come to ease my suffering for me by giving me a very quick end? I’m dying, you see. It would be so much easier if death came swiftly than to allow me to proceed in this way. It is very unbecoming, and I’d rather die handsomely.”

[explodingly]

Dom was concentrating on the portrait hole, and psyching herself up in her head about how exactly she'd tackled that feat in such a tight skirt and heels in the past, and if and how she would do it again. And then she'd heard a voice, a lovely voice calling her name. She stopped, mid-stride, and craned her head around. "Grayson!" she said, her face lighting up in a grin.

She walked over the the couch he was laying on, and picked up his legs so she could sit where they were previously. She put an exaggerated frown on her face, and made an awwing sound, before putting her fingers in the shape of a gun and raising them to his head. "My dear friend, Grasyon, before I shoot you, do you have any last words?"

She inclined her head to the side, crossing one leg over the other. "Also, do you want me to speak at your funeral? I think I'd give a pretty good eulogy, to be completely honest with you, Wood. Also, who do you want on your guest list? And... one last question before I blow your brains out, do these shoes make my legs look nice, or are they a little too, you know. Crazy and death defying for a school uniform?"

[iwannabetonedsucka-blog]

[explodingly]

Are we having a no-clothes party? My favourite type!

[explodingly]

the sun won't shine if you're not looking | open

Dom was known to be a fierce moper. She was definitely good at not dealing with things. Definitely good at bottling, she was an excellent bottler, and whenever her bottle got a little bit too full, she was became excellent at sitting outside on a bench and staring in to space. Telling the world to just stop turning, because she really wanted to get off. And she would literally do that for as long as she could stand it before having to go 'get the fuck off of your arse, woman, you are Dominique fucking Weasley'. And then she'd go and be the most awesome girl everybody knew and loved.

And she'd just gotten over about a week of that. Completely comatose, having endless 'Dom-Moments'. Just sitting outside, and looking, letting all of the thoughts in her mind take her over. About how she was getting old. About how she was graduating school at the end of the year. About how she didn't know what she was going to do in the future. About how she really wasn't good at much at all.

But she was past that now, and she'd woken up with a huge grin on her face, ready to fucking take on the world. She shimmied on down to the bathrooms, and done her makeup for the first time in a week. She wore her normal uniform (the one that was three sizes too small), and strutted down the hall like it was nobody's business. Her red hair cascaded around her shoulders, The Mane billowing majestically as she walked. Her lips were red and so was her bra. Excellent.

[spynasty]

[explodingly]

Dom that is a doll and brighter than the sun and lovelier than Christmas, Truth or Dare?

Oh, you flatter me, Grayson. Dare. Obviously. Come on. I'm a Weasley and I filled all the toilets on fourth with bubbles for fun last week.

[robertnott-blog]

Anonymous asked: You make love to everybody you look at.

No, I’m sure Dominique Weasley does that.

[explodingly]

[cockingly-blog]

you're useless if you can't get it up | fuck off weasley

[cockingly-blog]

Ant made a gagging noise when she said the f word. Ugh flabby ugh he didn’t even want to think about that gross gross gross! “You suck Weasley,” he croaked out. “I am NOT going to get flabby. And I’ll have you know that it’ll be just as tragic when the shag of your life disappears - ” His seemingly witty replying was cut off by another fit of coughing. Bloody brilliant. Coughing was shit because coughing made his chest ache and his throat feel all funny and it was absolute shit. 

This bottle was testing him. In his normal state, Anthony would’ve been able to open it with his bloody pinky finger but it just wouldn’t budge. He swore, his already fever flushed face turning redder with aggravation, until suddenly it was taken out of his hands by Weasley. He blinked, watching dumbly when she opened it with her mouth and handed it back to him. “How did you do that?” he asked, seemingly astounded, not even paying attention to the fact that she’d insulted him. He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank, wincing a little at the hot rush the liquid brought, but feeling the ache in his body slow ebb away. He looked at Weasley with a grin that was a little more like his smug self before looking dumbfounded. “When did you braid your hair?”

Anthony blinked when Weasley came over and pressed her lips to his forehead. He involuntarily closed his eyes. When was the last time he’d gotten kissed on the forehead? His mum did it to him when he was younger but around the time puberty hit, he ducked away to avoid most of her kisses. Deacon was the one who got showered with them. It was weird. It was strange. It was…intimate. Weasley pulled away before he could even start to make sense of his fever addled thoughts. He opened his eyes and glared weakly at her. “Of course I’m hot. Always hot.” He slumped back into his pillows with a sigh. “Bloody hate being sick.” He twitched a little at her comments. She was right though, no shagging, no drinking, no Quidditch. Everyone was useless shit when they were sick though so. Ugh.

[explodingly]

"Yes, you will!" she laughed, putting her hands on her hips, talking over the top of him. "You will and all of this-" she gestured to his body, "will disappear, and all of this-" she struck a pose and gestured to her own body, "will walk out the door," she finished, tiptoeing her fingers in the air. "I mean-" Dom stopped short when he went in to a round of coughing. Dom wanted to laugh, she did, but she actually felt really bad. I mean, the dude wasn't on his death bed, but he was actually really sick. "

Dom shook her head, laughing at McLaggen, as she dropped her hands down on to her hips. "With my teeth," she said, baring them at him. She raised an eyebrow at his newly dumbfounded expression, and tilted her head to the side, confused at his question. "My hair? What do you mean, I braided it when you were drinking," she brought her hands to her hair, almost absently, and undid the elaborate plaits. "I'm quick, see," she laughed, doing it up again. "Speed-braider. Either you're just really stupid right now, or really stupid all the time, because you must've seen me do that before." It was a habbit she'd had ever since she was small. She used to sit in front of the mirror, fascinated by her red her, so different from her sisters, and learned all these different ways to do it up.

She raised her eye brow at McLaggen's feeble attempt of a glare. "Right, McLaggen. 'Course y'are." She sat down at the end of his bed, and put on a sympathetic look. Obviously, she knew what it was like to be sick and feel like shit. Although, it wasn't really the feeling shit bit about being sick that bothered her, it was the lack of being able to just go, and go, and go, like she always did. "Here, let me see what I've got in my bag of tricks." Dom pulled her bag around to her lap, and checked to see what was in there. "I've got exploding snap cards, parchment, quills- ew, why're they in there?- uh, explosives, a tin whistle and, uh, that's it, actually. I could play ye and Irish ditty!" she offered weakly, putting on her best Irish accent. "I dunno, what do you wanna do?"