;; shell without a star

❝Hestia Jones❞ ; 16 Pure-blood | Lioness “I A C H E D once, hard, like a period typed at the end of a sentence.”

[inboxideas]

Send me one pro and one con you could see with having sex with my character.

[hestxa]

;; new years eve

    Any other year, Hestia would be elated to leave the Jones family's mansion and just move, do, escape. Any other year, for these cheerful days of Christmas holidays she had spent on her own and wasn't it good. P e a c e f u l. No prying eyes, no pressure to have it all together, no desperate attempts to keep herself under the radar. Even her birthday — which was bittersweet at best — went fairly well, thanks to Greta, and she managed to choke the anger down her throat and so it was done, she was seventeen.

                All those days, spent reading, learning, exploring — those were good.                 This though — not really. Not even because she was anxious ( all of                 the familiar or not-so-familiar people around her were either too drunk                 or too busy to pay attention to her and, besides, there was nothing mean                 any of them could say about her appearance ). No, it was just — not                 enough. She wanted to move more, to speak more, and it wasn't                 possible now, here, around important people.

    Exasperated sigh escaping crimson lips, she turned ( carefully enough to avoid letting those fools bump into her ) to the translucent balcony door, petrol-coloured silk creating a wave of silver and blue around her ankles as she walked outside, gracefully as possible, chill breeze making her bare shoulders shiver as soon as she stepped behind the glass door.

    Reaching to grab her cigarette case from her purse, she breathed in, sharply, and turned to see London lights dancing gleefully before her, snow remaining thick and frozen on the streets. See? Peaceful. She would have stayed there, cigarette tucked between rosy lips, gazing into the violent white of winter, if it weren't for the quick movement to her left & she shifted, breathed out a little cloud of air and smoke, brows furrowing ever so slightly.

                                ❝——If you're searching for an exit,                                             I'm afraid this is not quite it.❞

[hestxa]

✉

[ ;; 5 owls that weren’t sent, and one that was ]

Jamesie: You know, you’re not as childish as I thought. Don’t you betray my trust, I’m counting on you with this.Jamesie: I hate how it all looks so easy when you do it. Standing on the good side, doing the right thing. Not allowing darkness to reach you. I try and I just drown in all of it.Jamesie: I want to become an Auror. I know, right? Completely idiotic. But I still want to try.Jamesie: I know you say one must always trust their friends. And I did, and I was fooled.Jamesie: You are sure to be the hero of this. You know it, everybody knows it. And I get it, it’s only logical. But hero doesn’t have to die so you better take fucking care of yourself or I’ll make your life a living hell. Remember History of Magic? That’s nothing compared to how tedious I can be.Jamesie: I hope you’re having a great summer. ( Have you seen the last issue of Daily Prophet? I’ve never seen a bigger amount of nonsense in two paragraphs. ) Anyway, meet me at the Leaky Cauldron on Wednesday and you may or may not meet a part of my extended family. Just don’t drool and prepare yourself for some excessive drinking — Gwen knows how to hold her liquor far better than me.

[jxffrey-woods-deactivated201502]

Fill out with muse info

[hestxa]

name : Hestia Alexis Jones alias ( nicknames ) : Hes, Tia, Jonesie gender : Female age : Sixteen spoken languages : English, Greek, Italian, Latin, French, little bits of Swedish 

romantic preference : Demiromantic sexual identity : Bisexual occupation : student  criminal record :  none disorders : anxiety

eye colour : dark brown hair colour : dark brown height : 5″6 scars: N/A burns : N/A   overweight : no underweight : slightly 

colour : blue  song : smother / daughter food : pasta with zucchini & mushrooms drink : a tie between orange juice and wine

had sex : no had sex in public : no  kissed a boy : yes kissed a girl : yes smoked / drank / done drugs : yes / yes / no had a broken heart : not yet been in love : no stayed up for more than 24 hours : yes a virgin : yes a cuddler : when she’s either very sad or very happy a kisser : depends on a person scared easily : no jealous easily : no trustworthy : yes single : yes in a relationship : no  considered mean : no harmed themselves : no  thought of suicide : no attempted suicide : no  wanted to kill someone : yes  fears : death of loved ones, failure, fear itself 

siblings : none  parents : Michael & Camilla Jones children : none 

[hestxa]

❝HESTIA A. JONES❞ Analysis  — a e s t h e t i c s [2/?]

[hekahte]

In my nightmares I have always been voiceless, a condemned building abandoned lot of a mouth, and I don’t mean screaming and finding flower petals on my tongue instead, I mean this land is barren, I mean nothing grows here, nothing has ever grown here. Sorrow-salted, a caged-in plague. All these words in me plead behind barbed wire fences: let me out. There has only ever been a mirror, my tear-stained face: let me in.

there is something here held hostage, s.a. (via mythaelogy)

[hestxa]

" There need never be any rules between us. "

& such confessions were to be shared underneath the silvery moonlight, two warm bodies hidden in the shadows of a bedroom, one blossoming heart and heavy, tainted lungs breathing in union. Kit and Emilia, as thoughtful and courteous as they were, had prepared a guest room near Greta's for the asylum seeker in the shape of Hestia Jones, yet she would find herself sneaking through the corridor every night nonetheless, cold feet finding their way to her best friend's bed, whispered apologies disturbing the peaceful silence of the night.

                          (      Her friend, Aphrodite personified;                                          adorned with golden flowers,                                           veiled with hope.                                           Altogether too much of a dream,                                          yet perfect like this;                                          warm and soft,                                          fingers tightly entwined with Hestia's.     )

     — ❝ NO RULES? ❞ she, the lion cub weaned on careful words and wicked chessboards, would ask, yet words had their way of living and these were no different, shaping themselves to sound more like a plea than anything else. & mayhaps it was because she wanted to hope she could break free from the iron strings threaded through her skin, or for the sharp bite of longing, but only after the sweetest reassurance escaped the other girl's lips did she realised how much she needed to hear those words.

                                                No rules, and her heart falls into an unusual rhythm,                                                             beating heavily against her fragile bones,  fingers that                                                             weren't  tangled  with  Greta's  reaching  to  tuck away                                                             lost wisp of silver hair from the blonde's  ivory  cheek,                                                             blankets  twisting as she  raises her  head and moves                                                              closer,  eyes  heavy and moist,  truth  dying out on her                                                              tongue before she even thinks it. & she is not afraid of                                                              rejection, never that — her love was always a hungry,                                                             overwhelming thing, not influenced by others' affections.

  Instead her fear originated from the pressure on her angel's shoulders, the thought of her gentle I love you being a burden making her bite her lips and keep them shut even though she wanted to say too many things at once; though she wanted to whisper I love you more than anyone else in the world and promise I will always guard your warm light with my rich roar. She says neither, but moves closer and lets her cold lips touch Greta's in an innocent kiss; that quick little thing pressed between them as soothing as it was consuming, a ray of light in the night just as Greta was in the eternal shadow of her life. And she buries her face in the small space between her head and neck afterwards, the two of them still sharing warmth through the gasp of their hands and their united heartbeats. What could a caged lion with porcelain fangs know of freedom, anyway?

                     ❝ Let's go to the sea tomorrow, I love seeing your hair tangled with sand. ❞

[vitruvians]

[hestxa]

headcanon meme: ice cream flavors edition.

Almond Chocolate Coconut: a touch headcanon.

Bacon Ice Cream: a "what were you even thinking" headcanon.

Black Raspberry Cheesecake: a sexuality and/or romanticism headcanon (romantic orientation, sexual orientation, etc).

Cactus Fruit Sorbet: a "this shouldn't work but it does" headcanon.

Cherry Garcia: a role model/inspiration headcanon.

Chubby Hubby: a body image/self esteem headcanon.

Chunky Monkey: a names, addresses, nicknames, etc. headcanon.

Cookies and Cream: a family headcanon.

Cotton Candy Explosion: a childhood/child(ren) headcanon.

Death By Chocolate: an indulgence/guilty pleasure headcanon.

Devil's Food Chocolate: a vice headcanon.

Dulce de Leche: a happy/sweet romantic or queerplatonic headcanon.

Elderberry: a hurt/comfort headcanon.

Entangled Mints: a friendship headcanon.

Espresso 'n Cream: a coffee/tea/coffee-shop (AU)/caffeine headcanon.

Fudge Behaving Badly: a misbehaving/getting into trouble headcanon.

Ginger Crème Brûlée: a gender headcanon (gender identity, gender presentation, butch/femme, gender feels, etc).

Half Baked: a bad idea/poor planning headcanon.

Heartbreak Healer: a sad/angsty romantic or queerplatonic headcanon.

Jasmine Peach Tea: a self-care/self-love headcanon.

Kahlua Almond Fudge: a language/words headcanon.

Kiwi Midori: a creative arts headcanon.

Lemon Angel Food: a virtue headcanon.

Lemon-Lime Sorbet: a sexual/NC-17 headcanon (alt: a secret(s) h/c).

Magic Mint Cookie: a magic/supernatural headcanon (alt: a taste h/c).

Masque of the Raspberry Sorbet: a fear/horror headcanon (alt: a costume(s)/facade(s) headcanon).

Neapolitan: an intimacy/vulnerability (or lack thereof) headcanon.

Orange Pineapple Whip: a kinky headcanon (alt: an eccentricity h/c).

Oreo Cheesecake: a physical health/disability headcanon.

Peanut Butter Plum Cherry: a soulmate/soulmate AU headcanon (alt: an unconditional love headcanon)

Phish Food: a music headcanon.

Purple Daze: a stoner/drugs headcanon.

Rainbow Cream: a nature headcanon.

Road Trip: a travel or escapism headcanon.

Rocky Road: a difficulty or struggle headcanon.

SNAFU (Strawberries Naturally All Fudged Up): a mistake(s) headcanon.

Strawberry Rhubarb Crunch: a mental health/neurodivergent headcanon.

Tennessee Mud: an alcohol, drunkenness, intoxication headcanon.

Tuxedo Strawberry: a well-dressed headcanon (any headcanon about clothes).

Vanilla Fudge Ripple: a strength headcanon.

White Raspberry Truffle: a weakness headcanon.

Wildberry Chocolate Chunk: a social life headcanon.

[justanotherrpmeme]

bold which habits your muse has

[hestxa]

justanotherrpmeme:

nail biting | throat clearing | lying | interrupting | chewing the ends of pens | smoking | swearing | knuckle cracking | thumb sucking | muttering under their breath | talking to themselves | nose picking | binge drinking | oversleeping | snacking between meals | skipping meals | picking at skin | impulse buying | talking with their mouth full | humming/singing to themselves | chewing gum | leg jiggling | foot tapping | hair twirling | whistling | eye rolling | licking lips | sniffing | squinting | rubbing hands together | jaw clenching | gesturing while talking | putting feet up on tables | tucking hair behind ears | chewing lips | crossing arms over chest | putting hands on hips | rubbing the back or their neck | being late | procrastinating | doodling | shredding paper | peeling off bottle labels | forgetfulness | running hands through hair | overreacting | teeth grinding | nostril flaring | slouching | pacing | drumming fingers | fist clenching | pinching bridge of nose | rubbing temples | rolling shoulders

[vaesna]

[hestxa]

vaesna:

my journal is stuck just as my head. and life.  (?)

[hestxa]

corridors 🐆 december, 1976.

[hestxa]

Potter;

Hestia Jones was such a shy little thing, it was always fun to talk to her to simply see what she would be startled by. James never wanted to make her uncomfortable, but she was Gryffindor for Merlin’s sake, James wanted to hear her roar. So her additional sarcasm brought a grin to his face.

   ————- “ Oh yeah. I mean it’s not like the House known for bigotry & blood                       supremacy would make more sense or anything. Nope. Clearly us                       known for our honor and chivalry are the prime targets. ” 

It wasn’t that James doubted the victims, he just doubted that it was as clear cut as that. Robes did not make a House member after all. And then Jones’s expression closed off, and James could feel the shift in her mood. Her asking about Mary was like a blow to the chest, a reminder of what occurred, what he personally saw, what suffering his House has gone through despite being the main accused now. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

   ———— “ Oh you know; I’m fine as ever. As for Mary, all I know she’s in the                     hospital again. Fenwick found her I heard and she was really bad.                     But she’s doing well I think; Mary’s a survivor.” A pause. “I think as                     long as you don’t smother her, she’d probably appreciate the                     company? I mean, I know I would if I was stuck in the hospital                     wing.”

It did her good — sharing thoughts with someone like James Potter. It made her thoughts, usually innocent and tame, run wild, the threat of war ever-present in the corners of her mind. & this doubt didn't emerge from the lack of bravery or surplus of self-preservation — she believed she had an equal measure of both, along with her sense of right and wrong and difference between bravery and recklessness. No, the problem rooted itself in her upbringing and all those hours of listening how it was crucial for her to learn to hold her tongue and say on the margins of history.

   ————- “ This whole affair is very fishy, if you ask me. Emmeline, Rosier                      & Vanity, and now US? Seems like someone's desperate to make                      Slytherins seem as harmless as sheeps in wolf's clothing. Which                      is, prejudice aside, idiotic.” 

& being around her loud, unyielding classmate made the low burn of her transform into a unceasing flame of questions and irritation, the desire to do rather than think about all this injustice — the pain, bruises, s u s p i c i o n. The only thing that seemed logical at this point was to PREPARE & be ready for the next time. As there was no doubt in her mind that this was only the b e g i n n i n g.

   ————- “ Listen, I've been meaning to ask you —”  A change of                       subject, yet a needed one. ( She couldn't stand thinking                       about  those  in the hospital  wing, not when she  wasn't                       capable of doing anything. )  “ — the  duelling  club   is                       still running, is it not? Maybe we  could  persuade more                       people to join. Or organize something similar so we can                       all learn to defend ourselves better? ”

[ramsyas]

[hestxa]

Emmeline;

It felt wrong to say that she was enjoying having all the focus off of her when it had shifted to so many people that were just as undeserving of it. How was that fair? How was any of this fair?

                             ( It wasn’t. That was the entire point, wasn’t it? None                                of this was fair at all to anyone involved. )

“You hardly need to explain that to me.” Emmeline sighed, running a hand through her hair. “No one seems too interested in finding out what happens at all, do they? They just need someone to blame until the fear dies away and then some creeps get away with murder…so to speak. It’s not right.”

Although she was locked up with her books for the better part of the whole mess that happened, the petite Gryffindor was aware of the turmoil that was centered around Emmeline. Thus, the hardened expression on her visage softened at the other girl's tired words, her dark hues raising to give her a sympathetic gaze.

                             ( That was perhaps one of her greatest weaknesses                                            —  the  way  her  blood  would  boil  when  facing                                            i n j u s t i c e, how she couldn't help but yearn                                            to help those who were harmed. )

❝Speaking of that — how are you, Emmeline? I can't imagine how hard this couple of days must've been for you.❞ Perhaps it was naïve of her to presume the other girl was pure in intentions, but she was following her logic. And, of all people in the House of Ravens, Emmeline was probably the least suspicious one in this case. ❝I don't think anyone really believed it was you who did those monstrosities, but at least now you'll have your peace back. Or, as much peace as any of us can have these days.❞

[hestxa]

“Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood.”

There is amusement glistering in her eyes as she leans her head on crimson cushions, the latest antiquity text she robbed her grandfather’s library of nestled in delicate hands. If there was anyone considered to be a living LIONESS trapped in a woman’s body, it was the roaring firecracker herself & while Hestia couldn’t fit that trope, she still could appreciate the blonde’s confidence and charming aura, the golden girl beside her being all she hoped she could become one day.

                        ❝Indeed. Actually, I don’t think any man’s really                                  capable of understanding women.❞

                                                                  –––Was that her usual SKEPTICISM showing again?

                                             ❝Even more, some women aren’t even meant to be loved,                                                 they are only meant to B U R N brighter than any man.❞

[mitchellwrites]

deathless ♚ sentence meme

You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast.

You are going to break your promise. I understand.

You’re lonely too.

It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be.

I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable.

I am your servant.

I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased.

For you alone I will be weak.

I belong here, and you will not deny me.

I say these things, and the world listens.

I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried.

In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold.

I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.

I moved the earth and the water for you.

You will always run away with her.

You will always lose her.

You will always be a fool.

You will always be dead, in a city of ice, snow falling into your ear.

You have already done all of this and will do it again.

No one should be judged for loving more than they ought, only for loving not enough.

We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying.

What we carry between us is hard-won, and we made it just as we wished it to be, just the color, just the shape.

There need never be any rules between us.

Let us be greedy together; let us hoard.

Do not leave me, swear that you will never leave me.

I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I.

Sleep with fists closed and shoot straight.

I can’t abide a poor liar.

You look like a winter’s night. I could sleep inside the cold of you.

Oh, quit that. Blushing is for virgins and Christians.

Scold me; deny me. Tell me you want what you want and damn me forever. But don’t leave me.

Bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing.

In his own country, Death can be kind.

What is the world but a boxing ring where fools and devils put up their fists?

Men die. It’s practically what they’re for.

I am no one; I am nothing.

Nothing in me was not made by you.

A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.

Just tell yourself a story that’ll satisfy you and pretend he told it.

Forever isn’t bright; it isn’t like that. Forever is cold and hard and final.

I savor bitterness - it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived.

If you want to kill yourself, do not use us as your knife.

What did I do wrong? Was I boring? Did I ignore you?

Don’t you dare speak to me like that.

I have worn nothing but blood and death for years.

I have fought all your battles for you, just as you asked me.

I have learned not to cry when I strangle a man.

I have learned to watch everything die.

I am not a little girl anymore, dazzled by your magic. It is my magic, now, too.

Are we not devils?

No one is now what they were before the war.

I have not seen you without your skin on.

Close up your head; your brain is getting loose.

We obsess. It’s in our nature.

I’ve a devil of a habit for being right.

In war you must always choose sides.

If you try to be a bridge laid down between them, they will tear you in half.

We are all dead. All equal. Broken and aimless and believing we are alive.

My old bones will follow yours soon enough.

It is better to be strong and cruel than to be fair.

I will see him with his skin off before I agree to fall in love.

After love, no one is what they were before.

I have survived, but I have not been spared.

In the space of one heartbeat to another I loved you and I was lost to you.

Frighten me, make me cry, only come back.

It’s not so bad, my darling. Being dead. It’s like being alive, only colder.

You’ll think it’s love, while he dines on your heart.

You will be so beautiful when you are old.

I cannot keep you and I cannot let you go.

You will live as you live in any world…with difficulty, and grief.

I look at you and it is like my throat being cut.

She said you’d come and I swore to eat your heart.

I still want to kiss you.

My heart is being cut in two. I cannot bear it.

What happens to anything beautiful?

I have to know, I have to or else you will just rule me until the end of everything because you know and I do not.

[hestxa]

Mail symbol! ( mobile, holla )

[ ;; 5 owls that weren’t sent, and one that was ]

Adelaide: Beauty is always superficial - unless she is wed to something more meaningful.Adelaide: How you manage to look like a genious and a beauty queen at the same time is beyond me.Adelaide: I want to know how exactly you managed to get an O from that Potions essay.Adelaide: I don't know if you're aware, but you're distracting Slughorn all the time.Adelaide: It's pretty unsettling.Adelaide: I was wondering if you-I mean, perhaps you could-Merlin. I thought we might sort of could talk sometime?