"And you have done oh-so-much." She looked at her friend, adoringly. "Bizarre isn’t even close to the right word for Teddy town." She laughed, looking down. "Well, er, remember my flatmate? Well, he thought it would be a fantastic idea to have a rave. In our house. Without telling me. And so, I was—" She stopped for a moment, half embarrassed to tell the rest of the story. "—I was bring home this..this bloke, and there is a full blown rave and everybody is tripping the hell out and… it was certainly an experience."
Damn straight. To both of those, yeah?[Cocking her head to the side, a look of outrage grew on her features as Heather continued her story She clicked her tongue mock-disapprovingly.] Heather, heather heather. My little Heather all grown up-but, Merlin, why didn't you tell me you were having a party? Ain't no rave like a Teddy Lupin rave. How dare you deprive your guests of the sight of the wizarding world's favorite no-good punkass smashed as fuck? [However her joking disapproval soon turned into a wide grin as she finished.] You brought home....a gentleman caller? Oh happy day, tell me more, tell me more. I need details. And stat.
Lucy froze for a moment, tilting her head and focusing as much as she can to understand Teddy. In her day to day she can read lips just fine but Lucy knew that Teddy spoke a bit differently with words that seem odd together so it always took a moment to process her words, regadless though she sat down and smiled back. “Drugs?” Lucy asked, squinting her eyes almost apologetic, “Is that what you said?”
"It’s nice to see you as well," she said as she signed clearly.
[A small pang of guilt as she realizes that she's used an idiom, and she shakes her head, her sunshine orange tresses coming loose from her plait and she shakes her head 'no.'] Just a bit of a joke, darlin'. Don't worry your pretty little mind. [Nice to meet you, she mumbles under her breath as she repeats the sign, for her own memory before turning back to the girl.] How've you been? Any boys, girls, or others I need to know about?
"I’d let that reporter fuck me till I couldn’t walk.” Maybe, her words were rather crude but in her defense, the reporter was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. His suit, his everything, made Rose want to get to know him, and in the most inappropriate of ways.
I'd fuck him until he couldn't walk. [A low whistle comes from her lips and she turns to look at her companion with a small smirk on her lips.] Merlin, the things I'd like to do to him. But-shit, wait, I shouldn't be telling you that, should I? 'm already a bad influence.
"Guess I don’t care, then." Heather said, a smirk resting upon her face. "In Heather land? It’s….certainly something." She had had a strange past week. "And, is Teddy Town any better?" She joked.
Ouch, red, ouch. After all I've done for you? Cutting me deep. [She raised her eyebrows in curiosity, a small hum in the back of her throat as she rested her head in her hands.] Teddy town's fuckin' bizarre, as always .[She shook her head; enough about her] Details, love, those'd be swell.
Merlin, it was a miracle that Scorpius had even kept hold of his shabby muggle briefcase throughout getting blindingly drunk. As it was, it now had a couple of mysterious-looking stains on the front. Think of them as travel stamps, his mother had advised him before she took her last trip to Paris, never to return to England again, you might not remember how you got them, but it sure must have been quite the trip.
Scorpius rolled onto his back and replied vaguely, ” ‘Ello, fair cousin. Prithee, may I use your water closet?” and then promptly vomited on the floor
It took a lot to rattle Teddy, but Merlin, a half-cousin she only vaguely remembered from the optimistic few years post-graduation in which she still kept ties with the entire extended family, including all those beyond the Potters and Granger-Weasleys, now that would do it. She pondered his reasoning, before realizing she of course knew the answer to that, not that she particularly wanted to. It was yet another postcard she'd shoved into her suitcase heart when she'd packed her things and left. If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that letting sleeping dogs lie was far easier said than done.
❝ Whoa, whoa whoa. Watch the carpet, d'you know how hard it is to get stains out of that thing? ❞
The words shot forth from her throat, but it was too late, the damage had been done. Her entire being still on red-alert, she closed the gap between them, reluctantly bending down to inspect her intruder more closely, the familiar worry of what'd happened the night before racking her brain, and it was only then that the tornado that had evidently occurred the night previous, judging by the state of the room, became apparent. Clothes-androgynous; whose were they? hers? his?-everywhere, suspicious puddles lingering on her beloved wood floors, glitter everywhere; her tresses flashed a bright scarlet as she turned her attention back to her companion.
More than firewhisky? My little Weaslette, all grown up. Sharing is caring, y'know. [She teases, plunking herself in a seat across from the redhead. A genuine grin settles on her lips.] Tell me, how goes it in Heather land?
Sunday is always thought to be the relaxing day of the week. Business in the parlour was always booming on Saturdays and then errands were run as soon as she left. Sundays were her solstice. Whenever she thought of the last day of the week it was with a light, dreamy sigh. She would either be curled up in front of the telly, the heat of a hot mug of tea tickling her palms and finger tips or stretching out on the couch only to doze off into an extremely satisfying nap.
She hadn’t exactly hoped to be soaked to the bone as the dark heavens above opened up to release their fury. What use was a rain coat ( what a total waste of money ) when it only ended up clinging to you like a second skin? All she had wanted was a change of scenery. Instead of a relaxing stroll, the young woman now raced through the small, cobblestone streets only to veer to the left and push into a café — a safe house.
The place was booming. It was hard to hear yourself think. Everyone in London seemed to have sought refuge in the cute little coffee shop. There seemed to be only one free chair in the entire room. So, even as a knot of discomfort fashioned into a pretzel in her chest, Victoire shuffled forward and mumbled, almost in audibly —
Sundays were always a peculiar day in the life. Not the humdrum responsibility of the workweek nor the exhilaration and liveliness of Fridays and Saturdays partying or else exploring, Teddy often wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Staying in wasn’t a day well spent in her eyes, as though reading and photographing the city were enjoyable, she didn’t like to be alone with her thoughts. It was too dangerous that way.
On this particular Sunday she’d taken the opportunity to, under the guise of catching up on her work {ha, that was a laugh. Teddy Lupin getting ahead? } she’d escaped on the tube to explore. Or, that had been the goal before the skies had opened up and turned her budding polaroids into puddles of ink that she still mourned like falling soldiers. The café had been her sanctuary, and she watched in amusement as wix and muggle alike scampered to do the same with varying degrees of success {what was the word for that? Schadenfreude?}
In the midst of flipping amicably through a new page-turner she’d picked up she caught sight of a familiar blonde head, timid as always, she thought amusedly. Watching the blonde creep forward, she couldn’t help but grin as the Weasley girl--Delacour, she corrected herself sternly- made her way over to the table, though that shifted to a bemused frown as the question was posed.
"Oh, what a nice surprise. I didn’t know you’ve went here as well? I was just going to order something to go but would you want company? I still have time on my break."
[Her eyebrows raise as a smirk crosses her lips. She shrugs her shoulders.] Well ,yeah, ducky, this is the best coffee shop in town. Where else is a girl going to go if she wants to shoot up her veins with the best drug of all? [She shook her head, her tresses a light green, gesturing to the seat across from her, a warm grin on her lips.] Company's always a pleasure. Sit down, Lucy Goosey. It's been too long since I've seen your smiling face.
FULL NAME: Edana Andromeda Lupin
NICKNAMES: Teddy. Always. Occasionally Ted or Tedward depending on the person, but never Edana. It's far too formal.
D.O.B./HOROSCOPE: April 19th, 2001; 26/Aries
EX-HOGWARTS HOUSE: Hufflepuff
GENDER/PRONOUNS: Genderqueer/female pronouns
SEXUALITY: Pansexual Demiromantic.
WAND: 11 inches, vine, phoenix feather
AMORTENTIA: Butterbeer, a warm fire, old and worn books, coffee, flannel, waves crashing on a white sand beach, chocolates, old clothes from thrift shops, spices and incense, the street after it rains, apple cider, cigarettes, the Hogwarts express, firecrackers lighting up an ebony night.
RESIDENCE: A small flat in Diagon Alley is her home, and she’s grown to love (or at least appreciate) the floors that ache and groan with cold on brisk winter mornings and the early morning jaunts across the wood paneling to start her fireplace. A small window overlooks the shops below, the hustle and bustle is a relaxing sound by now to the witch who spends too much of her time in quiet. She needs excitement; she needs adventure…anything to keep herself out of her own head. It’s dark in there. Warm blankets cover the bed, books on everything she can get her hands on are everywhere, she’s chaotic and a mess and cramped and cooped up in the tiny one bedroom one bath flat bought with her own savings the day she turned seventeen. She thought once about moving out, but she’s rarely home anyways, and couldn’t give a damn about cleanliness. Messiness is art, and art is the air in her lungs, so she finds neither the time nor the motivation. She’d sleep on the tube if she truly needed to.
ACCENT/STYLE OF SPEECH: On the quieter side, as Teddy tends to attract more by just being than by her words. Actions speak louder after all, and she attracts enough attention to satisfy her needs without having to demand it. She’s a bit snarky at times and saccharine at others, it depends on the day and whom she’s around. She’s no pushover, but she can’t help but have a heart of gold, in her own off-beat sort of way. A British accent is detectible, London undertones due to almost a decade of living in the city. It’d drive her parents insane, says Rita Skeeter with a knowing smile, to hear their only daughter talking like common filth. Victoire would remark it’s odd that Skeeter can possibly know common filth when she doesn’t recognize it staring her in the mirror, but Teddy doesn’t answer, instead asking for the seemingly millionth time what this interview will serve other than besmirching her name-though not in those exact words. It’s true she’s lost track of her precise impeccable grammar since moving out, but that certainly doesn’t mean she’s filth. Her words are emotional as she is, as remarkably un-bitter as only she can cling to being. Sometimes it’s like talking to a lost boy, and she’s an excellent and surprisingly warm conversationalist; despite her occasionally fierce appearance, Teddy Lupin is a witch with a heart of gold. If a heart old gold includes cursing good-naturedly every other word.
BUILD: A slender, long, lanky build. She’s on the smaller side but with long skinny legs and knobby knees that have permanently been her annoyance, as well as too-large feet that leave her tripping over dust and wobbling like a newborn foal on unsteady limbs more often than not. Exceptionally tall for a witch, as well as exceptionally skinny, it’s common for her to be told to eat more or given an extra helping at dinner. She’s hardly the beauty of her generation, but then again, when has she ever wanted to be? Beauty and physical attractiveness have never been of importance.
MANNERISMS/HABITS: Smoking, drinking, drugs, fidgeting, always wanting to be doing something and on the move. She’s a whirlwind, a mess, a mover and a shaker and a doer and a hurricane trapped in the body of a girl. She’s the namer of storms, a contradiction to her core, a girl who somehow could bring the world to its knees but manages to trip over her own feet. Bruises line her arms, ribs, and legs; moving too fast for her brain to keep up is a tragedy. She’s an eye-roller, a knuckle-cracker, a nail-polish picker and a talker with her hands. She loves space-or, rather the absence of it; she needs it to be filled. She slouches on couches, she picks at the runs in her stockings, and she’s content with nothing but imperfection, the perhaps worst habit out of the lot.
STYLE/AESTHETIC: Her style of dress has as much personality as she does, with grunge rock being her primary motivator. Beanies, flannels, leggings, oversized jeans, doc martens, military jackets, and copious amounts of eyeliner and messy hair often find their way into her rotation, but her style often changes to fit her mood. Leather jackets are common in her wardrobe, as are ripped tights underneath high-waisted shorts. She owns maybe two dresses and rarely wears them, as she feels they’re too feminine and prefers to dress more androgynously. Not only that, but she doesn’t feel comfortable being sexy. Skintight dresses, heels, lipstick, Merlin, speak of the devil. Her adoptive cousins have tried in vain to get her to become more fashionable, even if androgynous, but she stubbornly refuses. Mostly she finds herself not caring, aside from her hair and her piercings, much to her veela companions’ chagrin. Victoire’s tried to get her to dress better, but she’ll slap on a pair of Docs she bought in a muggle thrift store and call it a day. Though she was anything but poor after her parent’s heroics and the Potter’s generosity, she stopped accepting charity once she neared the end of her schooling. She knew how the wizarding world looked at her, like a spoil of war, like a child to coo over and make an example of.
An old lover. Oh, this could be interesting. Teddy's never been a lover, more of a fuck-em-and-leave-'em, so an almost lover could be, well..fascinating. She'd need someone who in a sense completed but challenged her, someone who'd see through her bullshit and would be willing to put up with the odd thoughts that popped up in her mind, someone she'd be able to take care of and who would take care of her. Teddy's not the type of person to forget love easily, nor is she able to get over a broken heart.... perhaps sparks still remain among the ashes?
Family. Family is the most important thing in Teddy's life; even if she feels she doesn't truly belong in the Wotter clan, she appreciates the sacrifices they've made for her. Give me love, give me spats, give me jealousy, give me inadequacy, give me childhood memories and adolescent struggles. Give me all of this
Unrequited love. They swore it would be a one time thing, but well, these things don't just work out that way, do they? There's no love involved-at least by one party, but the other? Head over heals. Completely. Fuck buddies was how it started, but where it is no is the furthest thing from it.
You're my anchor. Teddy's an outgoing girl, but most of her friends are surface-level and fit into one niche. I imagine she had maybe one or two close friends, but even they don't know it all. That's the role of this person in her life, someone she can talk to about anything or everything without fear of judgment. They're her best friend, her saving grace, and she doesn't know what she'd do without them in her life.
Misnomer. On the other hand, Teddy doesn't like getting too close to people before she shuts them out. Perhaps this person tried in vain to get close to her and she clamped up and took them out of her life entirely? Do they still talk, or is it too awkward? There are infinite possibilities.
Anything you can think of! Teddy's a lover of people but surprisingly closed off, so any plots are wonderful plots by me! Human relationships don't fit in neat little boxes, so if you have any ideas, lemme hear them!
Played by Eva. 17. She/her pronouns. Turns ons include: feminist ideology and pizza
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