careful my dear, don't let your flames swallow you whole

lily, nineteen. order member, nonconforming badass, married.

[maskedauror]

It was in that thoughtful sort of haze between drunkenness and having a hangover that the tattooed male contemplated the array of possible reasons as to why he was clutching a gaudy feather boa in his hands. It was with slow, careful movements that he pushed up and off the hardwood floor he’d deemed fit for lounging around on only hours and a few drinks earlier. Frank swayed slightly when he stood, disoriented from hovering between not only sobriety and inebriation, but the unclear division between a night full of partying and the next day. At what point does night truly dissolve into day if one hasn’t slept? He wondered, fingers nearly trying to dig into the wall that kept him upright while he made his way to the bathroom. “Quiet,” He sternly reminded himself after stumbling against a neat stack of books that quickly became a jumbled pile on the floor. “Musn’t wake Alice.”

It took what felt like decades to find the bathroom and wash the remnants of the night away from his face, and though two multivitamins and a hangover potion later assured him he was well past sober and bright-eyed, he still kept the odd emerald-green boa–––––––––– He wasn’t keeping it for himself. Obviously. It was for Arthur– Arthur would get a kick out of it. Frank didn’t even care about how soft it was, really. With an entirely more graceful gait he crossed back over to the fireplace, patting his clothes to ensure that his wand as well as his wallet were safely ensconced in their respective ministry-issued sheathe and muggle store-bought jeans pocket. Without a definitive thought in his head, his fingers were already closing around a fist-full of floo powder, an act of muscle memory. It had become an occasional habit to bring Alice warm cauldron cakes from The Leaky Cauldron after every hangover-inducing event. A familiar thought swirled around his mind as vibrant green flames did the same to his body–––– and though he’d never had anything less than a perfect journey through the floo network since the age of thirteen, he found himself slamming against another albeit slightly smaller body hard enough to steal the breath from his lungs for a moment. And when the moment passed, it tugged a smile across his lips along with it. “Huh. ‘Coulda sworn I saw your face last night–– are you stalking me, Lily Potter?”

[lliypotter]

“Can you blame me? How do you reckon I can keep away a face like yours, Frank Longbottom.” A smile broke out, an expression of drollness and satire plastered across her face. There were many within the Order that Lily more than enjoyed cashing in her company for —— Frank had just happened to be one of the forefront runners in that gamble.

“Speaking of,” one thin finger ran up along the slope between her neck and jaw, tapping in a coy rhythm meant for only those in equal heart and manner ( and Frank was certainly so ), as a pause insinuated at the conversation. “You’re not still drunk, are you? Because, really, Frank, it’d be a total inconvenience to have to floo you over to the loony bin. Now, what would I tell poor Alice? ” An accusatory tone took hostage of her voice, accentuations popping and spinning from her words, as light as day. Jest filled her soul, as often was with Frank, and a slip of a giggle foamed from her lips.

The hazy departure from her home just that morning seemed millenniums away and she was glad for it. The morning of a new year was often hastened in confusion and pounds of hangover potion, and true, her morning was brighter than those of the past, but the relief still hung at her.

“Mind you, but I have places to be, Longbottom.” In a swift moment, Lily had taken to wrapping both her arms, coiled, around Frank’s own —— linking them. With an element of enthusiasm, she began to tug her friend across the pub until he would regain a steady pace that would allow him to keep up with the firecracker. “Come now, the crowds are bound to be dreadful, and I don’t plan to tug your arse all over Diagon Alley.”

[andpxtions-blog]

Their mouth is full of bile and they’re feeling the sudden urge to let her have it. They run a dry finger around the edge of the glass. Something in them is bitter and full of sour thoughts. They have a pointed tongue that has burned bridges and set fire to relationships. It comes from nowhere, sneaking up and threatening to tear apart what left they have. It’s hard to pretend you’re not carrying around a pack full of viciousness.

They are smacked, hard by Lily using that name. They laugh and it comes out too brash and sour for it to be polite or gentle or anything. Tosses back their drink, sniffs a little and gives Lily a good hard look. So she’s still pretty, still lovely, still amazing. Still taking their breath away even when they feel like vomiting and giving himself a dramatic ending at her feet.

“No. Must of gotten lost in the post.” If they hated they sound of potter, then Sev was like nails on chalkboard. They grit their teeth, grinding them. “What brings you here? Bored already of your dollhouse? Looking for a new Ken,Barbie?”

[lliypotter]

Something catches in her throat the the ring of their laugh. It’s not the one she knows —— no, the rasp of their throat is off and a stingy sourness is all that’s left; too vicious to be lifeless, but too void to be anything but. Pity. In a swift moment, thud pounded hard and fast inside her chest, and in that second, she understood why ribs were called cages. That look, their look, was set on her and all the pandemonium of the past flashed into her mind, blurry images of a broken friendship and even more broken hearts numbing her.

                                              Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood.

That was what she was to them, and she could never fool herself into thinking otherwise. She might as well have been the dirt on his shoe in his eyes.

“Lost,” she mirrored his words, reciting them dispassionately, as if a parrot mimicking words that passed her ears. “I'm sure that was it.” The pure v e n o m vibrated like heat waves off their face, and in truth, it felt wicked. To be the one to make them grit their teeth and feel that anger, it was a feeling only dimmed by silly nostalgia and hard feelings.

Lily opened her mouth and a dry chuckle lapped out like waves, forced and hoarse and deep with stinging salt. “Still reading into muggle culture Snape, or is it simply the repressed memory coming back from seeing mudblood scum again?” Their name is no longer venomous on her tongue, but rather nothing. And throwing it back in their face is nothing short of exhilarating.

[lliypotter]

andpxtions

They can’t imagine how pitiful this looks. To spend New Year’s alone is fine. You pop open a bottle of something bubbly, find a book and feel sad until you realize none of it matters and life is meaningless. To spend New Year’s at a pub, drinking away your sorrows and whining to the barkeep, is pitiful. They dips their head down, sickened by their own sadness, unwilling to be embarrassed at the sight of her.

“You’re too kind. If anyone is liable to drink the New Year’s, it’s me.” They grip their glass, swirls it. “Nice to see you Evans.”

“Too kind is far more than you deserve, don’t you think?” Her question seemed abrupt, unnatural as it cut through the silence that had previously kept her captive. And it was. All of the words she’d managed to string together to form words seemed so unorthodox and out of place. But that was, she teased herself into assuming, simply the natural response in face of her current compromise —— the person who was once, a long,  l o n g , time ago her moon and stars and  s u n  all at once.

But that was over. Severed, cut, slaughtered. And dare she wouldn’t waste anymore of her thoughts on it. A lie. A brilliant lie told countless times, like an old fable forever treasured, running circles in her mind, again and again. It was a masterpiece of a lie. One even she convinced herself of. What else was there for her to do?

Slowly, forcefully, a sharp breath of air passed through her lips, too boorish to be perceived as anything but what it was —— a placid sort of anger that deeply settled within your bones, gnawing and screeching at one’s resistance. “Potter.” Lily did not smile —— it wasn’t a smile. Not really; her lips were only pulled up at the corners, as if wooden clips had stretched them that way. It was an insult, and they both knew it. “Didn’t you receive the invite, Sev?”

[mr-rabastan-lestrange-blog]

He stood on the cobbled street, hand shielding his eyes as he squinted up at the windows in front of him. Pieces of parchment stuck to them, each loudly declaring some stranger’s new year resolution. Though they were hardly readable through the glare, Rabastan was 99.9% sure that a majority of them were about losing weight. “…They’re hollow. If you cared about making a change in your life, you could do that any time. But, here, it’s just for a mome– the moment? Just because. Do you have motivation? No, just because it’s a new year. But a year’s just a marker, that’s all.”

[lliypotter]

The witch’s contempt for the new years tradition was only a response of late assumed as a role in her life, yet the opportunity to claim malaise to the cause was one she’d hardly let sail by. Lily nodded to indicate response before speaking up with a tone laced in vexation, and backed up by a restrained chuckle evident in the resolution of her words. “Hope can easily be salvaged, and if those who wish to wash away reality with broken promises and faux words find that in the new year, then why aid the ignorant?” Perhaps only the security found in a stranger persuaded the words from her lips, but if anything, she was relieved in only a way found in mutual dislike of a popular trend; no longer being alone in the spotlight of a mob. But, this was hardly that, and she utmost refused to be roped into the philosophical crap which only furthered confusion and masked the ultimatum of doom with pretty words and long talks of which outcomes were only double the questions.

[ferxciti-blog]

Mary had always believed that the best fix for a hangover, even the little ones that she would get occasionally, was more alcohol. Donning what could easily have been Sirius’s sweater- the laundry room in the flat was a bloody mess and she would often ‘accidentally’ steal an item of his that she found more pleasing than her own- she headed towards the tiny liquor store near the flat. Shivering from the slight chill in the air, she glanced back- ever paranoid- spotting someone that looked even worse than she felt. She nodded to them, trying and failing to look sympathetic to their own hangover.

[lliypotter]

“Mary! ——“ A pause ensued as the girl waits for a response, her step quickening as the brunette-crowned figure slowly distorted into a more realistic size. As Lily drew closer, she called out again, her voice vaguely less ferocious this time. ”Is that you?“ Naturally, the question posed was one that did not require an answer; she knew the lone figure was Mary. Years of friendship imprinted a petite image of the girl, clear and sharp within Lily’s mind. Lacking any form of elegance whatsoever, long strides were made in effort to catch up with the waiting witch, her far too loose ( yet irresistibly comfortable ) clothing allowing an easy solution.

After beats of bare, solitary moments, locks of burning red tipped wayward as Lily cocked her head, bright smile gleaming her lips; a stark and hardly believable contrast once paired with the dark eyes and loose appearance of herself. Though she would simply insist casual was best, the above were far from casual and, quite frankly, bordered on mental. Nonetheless, the point stood loud and clear —— she looked like s h i t. Naturally, none of that stopped her from returning the look of sympathy with one of her own, equally rivaled, yet her’s held a twinge of a grimace.

“Don’t give me that look, MacDonald. Neither of us are exactly the pioneers of the pageant.”

[decreedlore-deactivated20210319]

Today she was bubble gum pink and laughing. 

Last night she’d been red hot, tearing up every and any dance floor she could find. She’d been burning scarlet and she’d spent more time moving than thinking about anything else and she loved it. Last night, there’d been five minutes when she’d forgotten that there was a war going on, forgotten that everyone she loved had a target inked on her back, forgotten that this could be the last time she’d seen another year. There were too many things to forget, when she thought about it. But last night she had been hopeful, and last night was not now. 

Still, the happy buzz of the alcohol was still mingling in her system and, if she was honest, she’d been topping it up throughout that day. Today was January first, and Marlene Mckinnon had long ago decided that she liked firsts. She liked to wear bright pink shoes and drink cocktails with stupid names and she definitely liked to spend January first laughing. Which was perhaps why she was so open to the thought of spinning around the lamppost as if she were in one of the movies she’d seen her friends watch. 

                                 “  be my risk assessor. how quickly                                      into swinging around the post do                                      you think i would fall on my face?                                      i’m debating if it will be worth it.      ”

[lliypotter]

She couldn’t help but let out a breath of a giggle as Marlene spoke before she rotated —— spinning on her heel, almost comically —— around to face her. Lily really did need a good laugh. “Marlene, Marlene,” she almost sang to her friend, her eyebrows arched in badinage. “Anything and everything is worth succeeding in that image.” Skipping on the tips of her toes to meet the firecracker, thin fingers shot out to the lamppost in question, hand circling around in a tight enough grip to callus peach-soft skin. Emerald eyes surveyed the pole in a manner much too calculated to be anything but a gaze laced in mockery.

A clipped “yeah,” rumbled out of her mouth, leading into a comment reeking of pure professionalism. Spinning round to face her best friend, best  c o n f i d a n t , once more, only a smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth, red and keen with plastered satire. “Reckon I can last longer than you?” Only a challenge she would face in the comfort of Marlene’s presence, it was obvious to the redhead she’d be coming out of the proposal with a bruised face and shining smile, one in perfect sequence with the blonde’s.

[ask-meme-addicts]

❝A Series Of Unfortunate Events❞ Sentence Meme

[lliypotter]

ask-meme-addicts:

“I suppose I’ll have to add the force of gravity to my list of enemies.”

“A good, long session of weeping can often make you feel better, even if your circumstances have not changed one bit.”

“This is my knife. It is very sharp and very eager to hurt you.”

“They’re book addicts.”

“The sad truth is the truth is sad.”

“People aren’t either wicked or noble. They’re like chef’s salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict.”

“How can someone so wonderful do something so terrible?”

“The world is quiet here.”

“Welcome to the world, little baby, and congratulations on learning to read so early in life.”

“Even though there are no ways of knowing for sure, there are ways of knowing for pretty sure.”

“Never, under any circumstances, let the Virginian wolfsnake near a typewriter.”

“Nice girls shouldn’t know how to do such things.”

“If we wait until we’re ready, we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives.”

“When people say ‘it’s my pleasure,’ they usually mean something along the lines of 'there’s nothing on Earth I would rather do less.’”

“The moral of Snow White is never eat apples.” 

“Accidents happen all the time.”

“Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don’t always like.” 

“Wicked people never have time for reading. It’s one of the reasons for their wickedness.”

[lliypotter]

rare tiliewang:

The snow beneath her feet shaped around the heavy winter boots, producing long marks of a person’s dragging feet in a growing amass of snow. Brown hair bounced at the up and down movement in the cold winter wind that blew flakes of snow against her face in an uncaring manner. 

The hangover that thumped in her head was beautifully bearable thanks to the absence of the roaring winds that came and went and the loudness of a place she had never heard. It was a glorious morning in her small one bedroom apartment, to wake up to no sound at all after a very adventurous night of mistakes she would never recall. She could try to piece it together: stumbling down a dark hallway, the too bright lights of fireworks, the reeking smell of drunkenness – that might have been her, considering her current state.

She stumbled a little bit through the snow as her mind wandered off to anything and everything, never sticking to anything concrete. Merlin, I need coffee. She thought to herself as she finally remembered she needed to go to the courts to get a new job. She shook her head and laughed at the miserable person that was her (  a difficult laugh that hinted at being only used slightly  ) : a miserable mess, that’s what she was.

The mellow English snowfall mastered the winter wonderland scene in duo with the rise of the new year, greeting the supposed “ new beginning “ with pristine delight. To the redhead, the atmosphere stood as vastly underestimated, hardly a soul taking account of the natural heal of fresh spirit. Perhaps that marked solely as the reason of her keenness toward the snowy terrains, mopping seemingly the whole of the nation in a coat of pure white, for the cool touch of chilled breaths and shuddering fingertips brought a sense of sharpness within the firecracker, cooling her if for but a moment. And it especially helped after a night spent celebrating the new year, the notion itself as good as promising headache galore.

Puffing hot, steaming breath into cupped hands, Lily wasted no time in swiftly shoving them back into the security of her coat pockets, crisp air meeting rose cheeks in a battle of fleeting warmth, left defenseless from where her hands had just been. And just as she braved the chilly glaze once more, a figure in the distance caught her attention, eyes now squinting with determination to recognize the silhouette. Little sprung to mind, which would hardly bode well knowing the manner of the lionheart. Trudging lightly through the harsh obstacles of ground littered with piles upon piles of snow, a harp of a laugh resonated within her ears, somewhat drowned out by the dwelling winds of winter. Quirking a red dimmed eyebrow in what one would wholly classify as “ trademark Lily Evans Potter fashion “, she barely stifled her nervous gust of muted laughter, leaving her reaction tied simply with the bare politeness she only just managed to salvage.

“Alright, there?” The increasing winds forced an almost aggressive volume to her words, but the curl of her wind-grazed lips gave way to a kind spirit rare to muster in the current times of the world, most especially when faced with a sardonic personality.

[lliypotter]

Lily’s legs dawdled rampant on the foot of the stranger’s coffee table ( on further inspection, it seemed it was her own table, and the surroundings she faced were, in fact, of the same home she’s called hers for months ), dwindling and twisting within and out of each other, making decent play with the limitations of her tainted consciousness. The new year had come hours prior, arriving in a flash of rainbow sparklers and diminished “ resolutions ". Her own were but merely an unspoken prayer, if hardly even that. Before, when her hair shined brighter and her eyes weren’t quite so dim, the promises would fall carelessly and freely from her unholy lips, her voice ringing with hardy determination and a daring edge, warring of the inevitable befall of a broken promise. Now, wise enough to realize reckless words and half-assed truths were of no match to reality, it seemed the whole tradition just wasn’t worth it. Of course, that never stopped the girl before, and with the helpful aid of a few sips of firewhiskey ( never as much as before, for a reason ignorant to her ), a whisper of a resolution passed. 

                                         W h a t e v e r.

No harm done, and with the events of the night only hours ago finally fleeting, she slowly retreated into a cross-legged position, before fully transitioning into a stand. Thoughts of hangover potions and grumbling mates flashed through her mind, and with only a slight grimace, the actions of her departure were marked; she accioed her bag and went to stand under her chimney, a handful of floo powder tightly held in a grip, while the familiar words motioned through her scratchy throat. ( Of course she was made presentable first, focusing largely on scrubbing the stink of the new year’s sentiments and worries until there was nothing left, porcelain skin left a raw red, with only the simple notion of being free leaving her satisfied. )

The Leaky Cauldron was no place aimed for peace, and the infamous chaos was exactly what met her when she emerged from emerald flames. Dusting herself off with eyes set downward, a soft “ oof " left her in a winded trial, body slammed against body as the surprise contact weakened both parties. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Her words were laced with something akin to shock, but her voice lacked the harsh tone often associated with the emotion, leaving only the light surprise of the flurry.

[squirreltastic]

Send me a word and a character/series/pairing and I will write a drabble:

[lliypotter]

squirreltastic:

Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someones lips. Quidnunc - One who always has to know what is going on. Ultracrepidarian - Of one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge. Apodyopis - The act of mentally undressing someone. Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you. Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing. Autolatry - The worship of one’s self. Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage. Gargalesthesia - The sensation caused my tickling. Capernoited - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy. Lalochezia - The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain. Cataglottism - Kissing with tongue. Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss. Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder. Grapholagnia - The urge to stare at obscene pictures. Agelast - A person who never laughs. Wanweird - An unhappy fate. Dystopia - Am imaginary place of total misery. A metaphor for hell. Petrichor - The smell of dry rain on the ground. Anagapesis - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did. Malapert - Clever in manners of speech. Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm. Concilliabule - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot. Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”. Lygerastia - The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out.
 Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed. Sphallolalia - Flirtatious talk that leads no where. Baisemain - A kiss on the hand. Druxy - Something which looks good on the outside, but is actually rotten inside. Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

[afadthatlastsforever]

Softness is not weakness. It takes courage to stay delicate in a world this cruel.

Beau Taplin || Shed your sharp edges.  (via afadthatlastsforever)

[justanotherrpmeme]

bold which habits your muse has

[lliypotter]

nail biting | throat clearing | lying | interrupting | chewing the ends of [quills] | 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 of 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

[dracomvlfcys]

[lliypotter]

jamessiriuswrites:

a e s t h e t i c  |  lily scrubs scrubs scrubs the stale beer from the carpet until her hands are raw and numb. red falls over her eyes and for a moment she wonders if it’s blood. [ x ]

[linneasnow]