We hit on a plane Flying across the s k y Searching for islands were we could land Too far away to be found We took off our gloves and danced like if we've gone mad Took a dip in the ocean To wash away all the sand I'm not a l o n e Not anymore this time I found my love Under a coconut tree Where we created a u n i v e r s e Hiding from all of that Where nothing mattered but you and me Make it like it used to be Give me a time machine With you and I riding on a tree Only you and me Under a coconut tree
“ bless your heart, darlin’ . ” the fake southern drawl rolls off her lips. bailee is known for accents, especially at the bar. her natural american accent and her liverpudlian accents were the best. tonight, though, she’s not sure where the newest addition came from. “ you fixin’ t’ do anything fun tonight? ”
❛ i'm not sure, p u m p k i n ! ❜ marlon elongates his vowel sounds, joining his waitress in what he could only assume was some sort of game. ❛ would you... SCREW it, i can't do an accent for my life. ❜ he returns to his usual tone, a mix of colombian and londoner. ❛ do you find reading and drinking fun ? 'cause that's my evening plan. ❜
❛ stand still, ❜ marisol snaps, eyes glowering up at the person that continued to shift on the podium. normally she didn’t mind in-house alterations, in fact, they were much preferred to any means that wizards seemed to use at home. however, this customer was proving to be difficult, almost as bad as tailoring for a toddler. ❛ unless you’d like me to keep pricking you, you need to stop moving. once i finish, you can spin and look at yourself in the mirror all you’d like, ❜ the brunette added with a huff.
❛ by ALL means, continue the pricking. it's kind of a turn-on ❜ duncan grinned stupidily at his own joke. it probably wasn't the smartest reply, considering just how t e s t y the seamstress was already getting at him. ❛ well, i'll stop moving when you STOP pricking me ! ❜ he reiterated. the beater couldn't figure w h y the hell he was getting a new suit anyways. he just figured it might be nice to have something nicer to wear when élodie, his bride ( the word sounded so strange ! ) came to visit.
𝔓𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔣𝔲𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔡𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 in the cool february air, spilling from the decorated porcelain cup. there is a chip on the gold-lined edge, from when mister eduardo da costa accidentally dropped the fragile china during clara's first tea party. she could've easily mended the imperfection with a reparo charm, which she had already learned in castelobruxo by then, but even the chip in her favorite cup held a sentimental value from the time she hosted her first event. a tiny golden spoon mixes the raw honey with the dandelion tea that fills the cup to the brim. clara da costa, satisfied with the hot beverage, rests the spoon on the saucer and brings the cup, decorated with hand-painted roses, to her rosy lips. on the other hand she holds a pen, and in front of her is a sketchbook.
clara da costa is not one for arts and crafts. however, the sketchbook is heavy and fattened by newspaper and magazine clippings, hand-drawn sketches of girls in pompous white dresses, samples of various laces, and even dried rose petals. the leather notebook is worn, some clippings are yellowed by time, and the latest aditions are fairly recent. clara keeps the notebook on her bookshelf, along with editions of witch weekly and witch romances. clara da costa is not one for arts and crafts, but she has kept the notebook since she was six and attended her first wedding. it was seventeen years ago. now, it has been two days since clara found out she is never getting her dream wedding. because the dream always involved someone she loved, and now she was getting married to civil obligation.
as she peruses the carefully glued clippings from witch bride magazines and fancy invitation paper samples, warm tears taint the delicate lace-covered pages of dreams she'll never get to live. so much she had to sacrifice in moving to the united kingdom. so much she had already sacrificed to help rebuilt a society that had only been hers for the past three years. she should not have to sacrifice her dream of marrying the love of her life. her olive fingers brush textures of different fabrics she one day envisioned would decorate her face as a veil. the honey tastes bitter. clara was driven by one thing all her life, and it was a blind fate that one day she would marry the love of her life and become just like her mother. that was the dream, the plan, the vision. now she had to set for getting to meet the person she would spend the rest of her life with as ink and paper, instead of a glance between two souls that would change her entire life.
the chip in the golden-lined edge turns into a million porcelain pieces. the smell of dandelion tea and raw honey fills the room. seven-inch heels crush a hand-painted rose. the crushing encounter of the china and the marble floors startles clara, and she realises her scarlett painted nails no longer hold the favorite cup. she doesn't have the energy to pick up her cottonwood wand now.
clara da costa left the sun, her first love, in brazil, for the foggy and unforgiving skies of england out of civil obedience. out of letting go of her selfishness and attempting to help a destroyed community recover from a scarring war. clara da costa gave her everything, pouring her soul naked and raw live. she wasn't a rebel, and she would comply with the law if that meant a better future.
still, civil obedience wouldn't mend her broken heart.
𝓐 song by the weird sisters came on today while i was doing laundry cooking lifting weights. it reminded me of you, and that dance at the yule ball. my hair stylistic choices were questionable, but you looked lovely. as always. so i thought i'd write.
𝓗ow are things with you? last i heard, you were at the reversal squad, right? it sounds like a fun job. people do a lot of stupid things, so i guess you're always busy.
𝓣hings over here are okay, i guess. we lost our last match to the holyhead harpies again, but it was only a 670-120 score, so we celebrated anyway. surprisingly, being part of the chudley cannons made me less bitter. they are nice chaps, and we have a lot of fun, even with all the losing and shame.
𝓐bout the whole law situation, i'm happy my match is someone i know and like. i know it is a law and everything, but we don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. we'll steal some red-haired muggle kids, call it ours, and spend every day in separates rooms minding our own business, if that's what you want. we can also give it a try, if that's what you want.
𝓗ope this letter gets to you. flora, my old owl, has been having some trouble with addresses.
—“ honestly, what kind of person thinks it’s a good idea to stick their hand into the garbage disposal. i don’t care how good of a pretzel it was, it’s not worth losing your bloody hand. ” sliding the glass of firewhisky between his tired hands, working another eighteen hour shift for the third day in a row had started to take a toll on him, “ two more minutes and i don’t think i’d be able to get their pinky back on. ”
❛ ... i am h o r r i b l y disgusted by the idea of anyone reaching out for food that's ALREADY been thrown out. ❜ marlon frowned at the drink he'd been fiddling with. he wasn't much of a drinker, so the content of the cup was just jasmine tea. he did go all the way to the leaky cauldron for JASMINE tea. it was, after all, where he heard all of the best stories.
— the leaky cauldron, despite what many might think, required a pretty hefty amount of upkeep. some of which, was half completed on the table in front of him, shuffling through a few of the bills, there was a sigh that left his lips, “ do you ever write something, so many times, it feels like you’re not even writing english anymore ? ” he said, squinting at his signature, “ i don’t think i can sign my name anymore, doesn’t look right. ”
❛ THAT is true, signatures have no validation unless you're feeling nice & rested ❜ corinne deadpanned. ❛ suck it up, buttercup ! ❜ she teased, a playful smile resting on her rosy lips, while she stirred her drink with g e n t l e strokes of her wand. ❛ keep signing for those orders. it's your job to keep me out of s o b r i e t y. ❜
— sporting a bandage around her wrist and a glass of elf-made wine in hand, expectant of her friend’s arrival soon, her lips pursed. “ if you owled me here to talk about the game yesterday, i so don’t want to hear it. i mean ! merlin ! how could i miss that ! ” piper groaned, her hand coming off of her forehead to look at them.
❛ then you probably should've stayed home, b u t t e r f i n g e r s. and you should've stayed at home during the game last night too. you know, catch up on your READING ❜ duncan teased, dropping his body on the leaky cauldron's chair with a loud thump. ❛ i play for the chudley cannons, and that was hard to watch ! ❜
— standing outside of madam puddifoots with a tray of small color changing sugar cookies she’d made just for sampling. of course, she wasn’t planning on giving them out as samples herself. she’d expected one of the waitress or even the bus girls to stand outside, but after two calling in sick and finishing filling the case for the day, she decided that it was probably best for her to go out there, at least while they were still warm. “ hey there, ” marnie starting, attempting to draw in some business, “ would you like to try our new cookie ? ”
❛ would i like to p o i s o n myself with sugar and happiness ? yes , please ! ❜ clara replied , snatching the enchanted treat from marnie's tray. she LOVED going down to the bakery after finishing a show and before returning to her hogsmeade apartment. marnie's tasty treats and a bit of b a n t e r with her friend were something she looked forward to every day. ❛ i am so wrecked, emotionally. underneath this pretty exterior is a feeling being, and she's TIRED. ❜
( alberto rosende, twenty-five, cismale, he/him, muggleborn ) — dear marlon bautista, i have the pleasure of writing to you to introduce to you your partner, marnie zigs. you’re so sarcastic and critical yet so organized and softhearted that it’s no wonder they were paired with someone such as yourself. you were in ravenclaw, correct? ah, no matter. as a herbologist, you must be looking forward to this new step in your life. sincerely, the minister of magic. ╱ mia. )
it's time for little baby marlon !
HE'S A CHILD OK
his dad is a well-known colombian singer, or at least he was in the eighties. older ladies still sing his songs when they're doing the dishes or something, and wonder if their husbands couldn't be more like rogelio bautista, stealer of hearts, sweet-tongued bastard.
rogelio's songs are mostly romantic ballads, super mushy and super tacky. he's considered a has-been by most people now, but marlon was born when he was all the rage in south america. his mom, a cuban actress living in colombia, dated rogelio for only a few months, and was labelled a gold digger as soon as news of her pregnancy got out.
despite having spent the first few years unknowingly on the spotlight, marlon had a nice childhood. his father wasn't always present, but took care of him and his mother, and the three of them have a nice relationship.
as his father's fame started to cool down, marlon was still trying to figure out who he was besides rogelio bautista's son. although he was named after marlon brando, he never felt like a tough guy. in fact, he was beat up a lot in school, with kids calling his father homophobic slurs. this prompted his mother to move to england when marlon was eight, where some relatives lived at the time, and try to put the past behind them and go somewhere no one knew who they were.
his early demonstrations of magic prompted his mother, a devoted catholic, to take him to a priest to be exorcized. she actually went to four different priests, all which couldn't find anythign wrong with marlon, before giving up. still, she slept with a bottle a holy water besides her, and made marlon pray fervorously every night before bed.
getting his hogwarts letter was like satan himself had written inviting marlon to attend a school in hell. his mother took him and the letter to the priest again, who laughed it off, believing it was a prank by little marlon. it took visits from both hagrid and dumbledore to explain wizardry and witchcraft to her, and still she was under heavy tranquilizers the afternoon marlon went off to hogwarts.
he was sorted into ravenclaw, much to his surprise, because he never thought he was clever enough. however, his brilliance showed off in some unexpected areas, like herbology, chess and potions. he wasn't cut out for quidditch, that's for sure, but everything was exciting, and he loved learning about everything.
it took seven years, but by the time he graduated, his mother was finally proud of her son, a herbologist !
during the war he probably lived with his mother, writing books and trying to stay out of everything. he's not a skilled dueller and is afraid of everything. he probably popped out of his golden cage once he was sure voldermort was dead, and helped the injured and sick with his knowledge of potions and plants.
he's never had a serious relationship, so he's terrified of the marriage law. it's just too much pressure.
he tries to put on a cold exterior by being sarcastic and overly critical of everything all the time but he's just too Soft. he's sensitive and he cries and he's so insecure. he deeply regrets not fighting the war, he wishes he was stronger and braver. he cries over the ones who died, the ones who lived, and just how useless he was during the whole thing, while there were people out there fighting and willing to die for his right to live and practice magic. he probably has depression but doesn't know it yet.
( kj apa, twenty one, cismale, he/him, muggleborn ) — dear duncan fainu'u, i have the pleasure of writing to you to introduce to you your partner, élodie lefebvre. you’re so hot-headed and confrontational yet so understanding and jocular that it’s no wonder they were paired with someone such as yourself. you were in gryffindor, correct? ah, no matter. as a beater for chudley cannons, you must be looking forward to this new step in your life. sincerely, the minister of magic. ╱ mia. )
YET ANOTHER CHARACTER BY MIA
duncan was born in new zealand to a samoan father and a scottish mother. they were both quite young when she got pregnant, and were quite overwhelmed, but decided to do this together
however, his dad wasn't in it for too long. he went back to samoa when duncan was seven, so him and his mother moved to glasgow, her hometown, to live with relatives.
when he was about eight he started having misconduct problems, throwing violent tantrums which prompted his mother to take him to a mental health professional. he was diagnosed with oppositional defiant disorder and anxiety, and opposed treatment
his mother, however, had just rekindled the flame with an old high school girlfriend who was also a single mother now, and they wanted to move in together but were scared of duncan getting violent around his mother's girlfriend's baby daughter. so that's when he started seeking help
still the doctors couldn't figure out why tf things like glasses exploding into a million little pieces happened whenever he got angry
which was thankfully explained when he got his hogwarts letter. his step-mum was baffled at first, but his mum, who is an Actual Hippie, was just like I KNEW IT. he started taking medication to keep everything under control when he was away "at boarding school"
and off he was ! duncan was happily sorted into gryffindor, just a year above the famous harry potter, who he'd never heard of
i feel like he was probably in dumbledore's army before graduating tbh. being a muggleborn, he definitely couldn't be silent about this. duncan fought the hogwarts battle and survived with minor injuries ( his duelling skills are excellent ngl ). it was still a pretty traumatic event, seeing so many of his classmates and friends lined up, dead.
after hogwarts he was invited to join the chudley cannons as a beater, even though he spent most of his hogwarts quidditch career as a substitute. but, then again, it's a really bad team.
he loves quidditch, football and skateboarding. he's still a pretty boyish boy, and probably finds fart jokes hilarious. he's still a bit temperamental tho, and probably got into trouble a lot during his hogwarts years for picking fights with blood supremacists
in regards to the law, he's probably more concerned about being a good husband and a good father. all of duncan's previous relationship were a complete failure: he was cheated on by his first girlfriend, and then fell in love with a girl who ended up dating his worst enemy. so yeah, not a great dating record
he thinks of women in either one of two ways: This Girl is My Own Brother or *FURIOUSLY BLUSHES WHENEVER EYE CONTACT HAPPENS*
he had a huge crush on élodie, his match, during their hogwarts years. they shared a dance at the yule ball and last saw each other after the battle
( camila mendes, twenty-three, cisfemale, she/her, pureblood ) — dear clara da costa, i have the pleasure of writing to you to introduce to you your partner, tobias waldorf. you’re so selfish and meddlesome yet so quixotic and optimistic that it’s no wonder they were paired with someone such as yourself. i suppose it only makes sense, since you moved here from brazil / castelobruxo and became a wizarding wireless network host. you must be looking forward to this new step in your life. sincerely, the minister of magic. ╱ mia. )
since i introduce myself in corinne's bio i'll be skipping this and going straight into clara !
clara da costa is the third of the da costa girls, the four daughters of one of the oldest and wealthiest pureblood families in brazil. they are the oldest known wand makers in latin america, and to this day they carry out the family business. i mean, clara's father does. she couldn't care less.
like her mother, clara has always been more interested in the social part of being a pureblood. they had tea parties, functions, balls and so on. they probably helped the first war by throwing a beneficent gala of some sort. not fighters at all.
while her olders sisters are more interested in the craft of wandmaking, clara and her little sister were vain and interested in popularity. she was one of the most beautiful and popular girls of castelobruxo, were all of them went to school, and had several love interests throughout the seven years she went there.
openly bisexual btw
when she first heard of everything that was happening in the uk, she probably thought it was some crazy european bullshit tbh. even though she is a pureblood, clara never discriminated against other wizards and witches. she's most likely to discriminate someone based on their outfit.
after graduating from castelobruxo, she started her own radio show, clara's classy clauses, about the latest gossip and fashion tips - like rita skeeter. it was a huge flop. literally no one listened to it.
she gave it a try for about three to two years, and it never became the hit she expected it to. in fact, it was quite ridiculed amongst the local wizarding community. she couldn't rely on her looks for likeability anymore. this wasn't school.
so one night she had an epiphany, packed her bags and moved to london about two months after the war. the wizarding world had just defeated evil and probably needed style tips, right? nope. she went there with the goal of becoming a real reporter, believing in the power her voice could have to rebuild the magical society post-war.
she settled in hogsmeade, and soon after dear clara was available to all wizarding households in great britain. it wasn't anything like the classy clauses, but she felt like it could help. she read anonymous letters from listeners on air: letters of grief, hope, love. letters from mothers who lost children to the war, letters from wizards and witches thanking the brave war heros, letters from people in love. and she gave good advice. people trusted her, and she built a network of openness that helped heal some wounds. not all, but some.
clara's always been selfish, but her program is allowing a softer side of her personality to show. she turned her gossipy, meddlesome side into a good listener, and someone who gave good advice. she's grown a lot in the past few years, but her old self still shows. she's super dramatic, loves money and still probably judges you on your outfit.
( lily collins, twenty-eight, cisfemale, she/her, muggleborn ) — dear corinne byrd, i have the pleasure of writing to you to introduce to you your partner, theodore robbins. you’re so stubborn and self-righteous yet so just and caring that it’s no wonder they were paired with someone such as yourself. you were in hufflepuff, correct? ah, no matter. as a head of spirit division at the department of regulation and control of magical creatures, you must be looking forward to this new step in your life. sincerely, the minister of magic. ╱ mia.
i am ridiculously excited for this rp ngl
hello ! i'm mia and this is the first of my muses, corinne. thought i'd introduce myself quickly here before we dive into my sons and daughters. i am twenty, go by the pronouns she/her and live in the gmt+12 timezone. that's very, very far from everything. i am buzzfeed unsolved trash and currently watching that 70's show, which is a horrible show but i still watch mainly for my babies fez and donna. but enough about me !
corinne is the daughter of two muggles who never heard about magic. her family was of lower middle class, which meant that she never lived with luxury, but when her father took off with all of their money when she was four they were basically screwed.
her mother worked as a housekeeper, and they didn't have a lot of money. in fact, they both went to bed without dinner countless times. corinne grew up wearing used clothes and living in places were there was a curfew for everyone's safety. when she turned eleven and got her hogwarts letter, money was immediately her first concern. they didn't have regular money to start with, imagine magic money !
all of her school supplies were second-hand, except her wand, which her mother made sure was perfect. she was so proud of her little witch, and so supportive of everything.
to her surprise, she was sorted into hufflepuff. even though cora is very caring and just, she always had a bit of a temper, and though maybe this would cut her right off. nevertheless, she was warmly welcomed into her new house.
she loved everything about hogwarts, and everything about being a witch. from the marvelous creatures to the spells, the enchanted staircases, the abilities she never knew she had and her lovely housemates. sure some people would make fun of her second-hand items, but she was quick to shut them out.
however, in her fourth year, she was called into dumbledore's office during transfiguration. her mother had passed away from a heart attack. her world was absolutely shattered.
in order to avoid being thrown to social services, corinne's best friend ( MAJOR WC ) invited her to live with their family. cora spent the summers in their house and was fed and taken care of by them until graduation, when she started working for the ministry. she moved out as soon as her first paycheck was in, moving into a room above the leaky cauldron, and gave part of her salary to pay the family for taking care of her during the first five years of her job. after that, she moved into her own apartment in muggle london.
corinne became head of the spirit division not very long ago. she was always interested in ghouls, mainly became she wished she could talk to her mother's spirit sometimes. and ghosts are surprisingly stubborn. they're dead. they couldn't give two fucks.
corinne byrd doesn't take charity, and that's why she lived in a stinky room for five years in order to pay for the care her best friend's family took of her. she always takes care of people, but hate it when people try and take care of her. she's got a bit of an egde and will tell you off if she doesn't like you. her motto is to say what she thinks and regret it later.
she may seem harsh, but she's just sad & lonely & needs a cuddle tbh.
some wanted connections include: hogwarts dormmates, current roommates, said best friend / foster sibling, an ex-boyfriend maybe ?, coworker, enemies & just about anything !
Anger was her element. Her other was shyness. She could barely control the torments caused by embarrassment. She would blush to the roots of her hair. She would hauntingly walk to her execution, livid with disdain. Had she raised her cast down green eyes, she would have appeared like Medusa.
Asya Tsvetaeva, on Marina Tsvetaeva, featured in “A Life in Poems,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
