LAISSE TOMBER.

lucien — xvi, beauxbatons, champion.

[lucienvalois]

as sad as i am to see the main close, so much love to birdie and i hope everything turns out okay!! high key copying off of izzie, i’ll be keeping luc’s blog around, at least for the time being. i’ll be going off on vacay soon until august 2nd, but if you still want to plot once i’m back or just keep in touch, you can find me on skype/kik ( heyqarina ), on my rp blog ( riddlerwrites ), or over at my personal ( inquisitiv ). love you all as always xoxo

[wnq-music]

I have found that if you love life, life will love you back.

Arthur Rubenstein  (via wordsnquotes)

[sarahabdul4-deactivated20170928]

لا أبحث عن نصفي الأخر لأنني لستُ نصفًا. I’m not searching for my other half because I’m not a half.

(via twentyonepunkens)

[gosh]

[spectruminity]

wizarding schools aesthetics (vault713 edition) ▲

» beauxbatons academy of magic * france

[copyr1ghts]

Go for it. Whether it ends good or bad, it was an experience.

k.g. (via copyr1ghts)

[watsoms]

[evieqxinn-blog]

           With the festivities just beginning, Evie wasn’t sure what compelled her to wander the castle with a glass bottle clutched in one hand. Though the contents were a mix of the alcoholic variety, a muggle soda label was plastered around the bottle she’d swiped from her house—she wasn’t about to go carrying around an obvious sign she was planning to drink the night away. She supposed she just needed some time for herself (for once); there would be hours after midnight to revel with her housemates. With both Hogwarts champions hailing from the house of lions, her red-and-gold clad classmates were on top of the world. Some would think it unfair, surely, but she pushed those thoughts from her mind. Tonight, she would celebrate. One or two shots were already in her system before she slipped away from the crowd, promising to be back as she passed on a shot to one of her friends. Luckily, she’d always been good at holding her liquor.

           Somehow, she’d found herself at the owlery. While she kept an owl, mostly for summer correspondences, she only took trips to the owlery to visit the creature. Tonight, the sight of the stairs to the top brought a sneer to her lips—she had no one to send news of this sudden announcement to with her father off in God knew where and her mother, oh, her mother—but she continued climbing. “Lucien!” she crowed when she spotted the boy, an envelope in his fingers, and a wistful expression flitted across her features when she glanced at the letter. “I recommend…that one,” she added, pointing a finger at one of the hulking owls. “Won’t bite you.”

           “I will be,” she answered in a sing-song tone, holding up the bottle with an impish smile. Snippets of their first conversation floated into her mind: how they discussed the Tournament, competition, winning. It was light banter, meant as jests only, but the fact that their conversation had essentially come true hit her as sharply as the cold wind outside would have. Both of them seemed rather careless about the whole ordeal, and whether or not that could lead to their downfall was a matter she’d rather not address. “Well, shit. This really is a ‘put your money where your mouth is’ sort of thing, isn’t it? How about that. Should be fun. Congratulations to us both, yeah?”

[lucienvalois]

           Blue eyes followed to where Evie’s finger pointed: a hefty barn owl placidly resting on its perch, its feathers patched with various shades of cream and tawny and amber. Silent as it was, the creature still seemed only slightly less hostile than the rest of them. “And how do I know you’re not trying to trick me? To sabotage Beauxbatons’ shot at the Cup?” he questioned the girl. A champion now, just as he was. Though Lucien quirked his eyebrows upward, his facial features play-acting at skepticism, he walked toward the owl she recommended without a moment’s hesitation. It was a wildly improbable accusation, solely meant as a harmless tease. He trusted her advice—for now, at least—and besides that, he itched to get out of the filthy owlery.

           He shot Evie a genial grin, a soft chuckle already bubbling at his throat. “I’d drink to that,” Lucien agreed as he cautiously offered his letter to the owl in front of him. Her energy was more vibrant than he remembered, and he had no doubt that the bottle hanging from her grip had something to do with it. The Gryffindor girl wasn’t easily forgotten; from the start, they had bounced off of each other with ease, innocent sarcasm and effortless quips fired from both directions. Ironically enough, their first meeting had somehow foreshadowed where they stood now. It had been nothing more than the usual conversation in the midst of endless Tournament talk. Whether they were entering, and why, and who they believed would come out victorious. Little did they know, the whole time they’d been discussing themselves, their own fates. “Hopefully ‘fun’ turns out to be an understatement,” he added optimistically.

           A subtle sigh of relief left his lungs as soon as the owl’s sharp talons snatched the envelope from his fingers, and he readily pulled his arm back to his side. He stepped back to allow the owl room to spread its mammoth wings. The bird opened its hawk-like beak to release a high-pitched trill, and suddenly it was springing off of its perch and diving into the dark of the evening sky. Catching faint pieces of the carefree laughter and slurred shouts through the windowless ports made Lucien feel even more ready to leave the owlery, to finally join in on the mindlessly drunk celebrations. “And just to clarify, I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d drink to the both of us being champions now,” he said with a smirk, tossing a light nod toward her glass bottle. “I’d pay you back. I have a small stash back at the carriage that I wouldn’t mind sharing.”

[cybergirlfriend-deactivated2022]

[goddessousa-blog-blog]

“You act as if I weigh tons!” She exclaimed, not bothering moving from her spot because she was comfortable. Monet rolled her eyes, she was unsure of how many times she’d done the action in the presence of Lucien  ‒  too many times to count that was for sure. “You’re loosing your head, I’m obviously the prettier friend.”

[lucienvalois]

           “You act as if you don’t,” he countered, gently bumping her with his elbow. “Surprised you haven’t fallen flat out of the sky off your broom yet.” His impish smirk held a silent challenge; he never could resist a little friendly competition. “We both know I’m a work of art even without your paints. The Louvre should be paying me every time I visit.”

[lucyweaselys-deactivated2016122]

          Lucy cared too much but, tried to make it seem like she was always apathetic. She wanted everyone to like her. But, life didn’t work that way. So, she didn’t surround herself with people–she stayed alone. That’s why she liked Paris–it was a big city. It was lonely and she could be alone. Just the way she liked it. But, in a family like hers, it was hard to be alone. “Sixteen years may require a quick change. I hope you like it here.”

          She wondered if Beauxbaxton’s had rooms for dance. They certainly weren’t available at Hogwarts but, before she came, she had learned a few tricks from her Uncle George. The room of requirement had become her best friend in time–it was quiet and she could dance there at all hours. And she went out a few times to take lessors when she could. She loved to dance, truly–was set on doing it for the rest of her life. She didn’t talk about it much but, she could see in his expression that he was curious. “No, no places to practice. I make my own space. And, when I visit, I will be sure to do that.” She gave a smile but then, her eyes widened. “You’re….a champion. I’m Lucy. Weasley. Um, my cousin  James is a champion as well.”

[lucienvalois]

           “I’ve already gotten lost more times than I can count and almost fell off the stairs the other day, but yeah, I like it enough,” he laughed. While the rambling building hardly held a candle to the palace he called home, navigating the dingy old castle had been an experience in itself—though it didn’t help much that a natural sense of direction was something that Luc painfully lacked. At times he wondered whether he would have still hopped onto the Hogwarts-bound carriage had the Triwizard Tournament not been part of the package; whether leaving Beauxbatons’ luxuries would have been worth it if only for the chance to get a taste of someplace new. “Is it weird having all these new people around Hogwarts?” he asked, eyes bright with genuine interest. “Or do you think it would’ve been better if you got to go to one of the other schools? You know, without having to sneak away?”

           “You can just do that? Just take over an empty classroom and change it?” Learning more about the other schools never failed to pique his interest. While the girl maintained a certain ambiguity in her statements, he was appreciative that she answered his prying questions at all. “How about that? We’ve almost got the same first name,” he remarked amicably, making an effort to maintain his composure despite the girl’s newly excited expression. “And yeah, I am.” A champion. It was still surreal. The words tasted artificial, like just another far-fetched lie he’d fabricated. The fresh reminder only widened his grin. “It’s really nice to meet you, and I’m sure your cousin is a great guy, but don’t be offended when I wipe the floor with him once the tasks start,” he commented lightly, as casually as he would have said he hoped for no Potions homework or fair weather. “Sure to be an interesting time, yeah?”

[goddessousa-blog-blog]

“Get over yourself, champion.” She scoffed and twirled her wand absentmindedly. Monet stopped her hand before she shot out a spark from her wand and put all her weight on her side, leaning on to Luc to stay standing up. “You are not that pretty, mon coeur.”

[lucienvalois]

           “Merlin and Agrippa,” he blurted out as Monet suddenly knocked into his side. “Do you mind?” While his expression feigned frustration, he made no effort to shove her away. “And okay, now that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told. ”

[itsjoanneee]

Lacrosse 101 with Garrett

[0--expectopatronum--0]

“Good and evil are a great deal more complex than a princess and a dragon, or a wolf and a scarlet-clad little girl. And is not the dragon the hero of his own story? Is not the wolf simply acting as a wolf should act?”

Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus (via lantzov)

[rocknrollercoaster]

Visit Original Link

[goddessousa-blog-blog]

     Monet happened to be the first student to bring out booze, the night was still young and she felt like it was a great time to brood while she drank more alcohol than her body weight. She smiled brightly just like she was supposed to and she congratulated her best friend enthusiastically, like she was supposed to. It was easy for Monet to hide her emotions, she wasn’t exactly devastated at not being chosen but when the names were announced she couldn’t help the way her heart dropped when hers wasn’t called. 

     It wasn’t until she was a few drinks in that she realized she hadn’t seen Luc since the feast so she made it her mission to find him. She tried to think of places she would find him, doing this slightly drunk was a bit of a problem but Monet just stumbled along the hallways asking anyone she could if they’d seen him. Once she figured none of the students around her had seen them she ended up just asking the portraits around her. Making friends with the portraits was good for something. 

     Eventually she was pointed in what she hoped was the right direction, now she was making her way up the steps of the owlery. The West Tower was surprisingly far off and she wondered, annoyed, why they made it so. She avoided owl droppings as best as she could and soon she saw the figure of Lucien. “Of course I am,” Her words were slurred slightly and Monet’s accent was thicker than ever. “I was a couple drinks in when I realized you weren’t with me. Avez-vous écrit une lettre à vos parents?”

[lucienvalois]

           “Connerie,” he scoffed. Lucien paid close attention to her movements, trying to ascertain how much she actually had in her system. Her accent was already crumbling in between her syllables, an easily distinguishable symptom that he often shared, as well. Was he legitimately hurt that she had joined the celebrations without him? Of course not; there was no doubt in his mind that he would’ve guiltlessly tossed back a few shots had their roles been flipped. But as always, he couldn’t resist giving her a bit of hell just to tease her. “Votre horribles anglais est dit que vous aviez plus que juste un couple. Merci de me garder dans vos pensées, cependant, ma colombe,” Lucien said, playful sarcasm dripping from his words. “Ai-je raté quelque chose d'intéressant?”

           He held up the thick envelope and swiftly waved it back and forth, throwing in a quick nod to confirm the nonverbal ‘yes’ to her question. Fully extending his arm to the side, he directed her attention toward the columns of humongous, almost monstrous owls beside him. “Pick an owl, any owl,” he sang, his intonation mimicking that of an archetypal Muggle magician. Lucien tossed the envelope up, launching it with enough momentum for it to spin several times in the air before effortlessly catching it between his forefinger and his thumb. Monet would likely call it showing off; he preferred to call it panache. “Mais vraiment, choisissez l'une pour moi,” he insisted with a light, sheepish chuckle. “Ils regardent tous comme ils avaient heureusement mordre ma main.” He held the letter out slightly toward Monet, in case she was sober enough to grab it to do the honors herself.

[convexing]

Lou hadn’t meant to find himself in the owlery. Then again, he also hadn’t meant to take more than two or three shots, and he lost count after twelve. It seemed that in all regards the night was not going quite as planned. Merely sent to retrieve any stragglers, for some reason or another Lou had thought it best to make for the Hogwarts owlery. Why he thought that to be a good idea he’d never know, but he certainly didn’t intend to stumble across the other Beauxbatons champion. At best, Lou was hoping for a few wandering students he could cajole into joining the festivities. 

Leaning against the doorway, Lou surveyed the boy in front of him. To the best of his abilities, of course, considering he ingested approximately fifteen shots in as many minutes and was shortly thereafter sent out into the wilderness that was Hogwarts castle. So this was his competitor. One of them, anyway. If Lou was sober he might have found it funny that someone who handled the world so lightly could be chosen as a champion. That said, Lou was anything but sober and instead found the fact quite irritating. 

“’Course I’m fuckin’ celebrating. Sent out here to find you, actually.” It was a bold-faced lie, but Luc needn’t know that. Lou was far too drunk to care what was truth and what was fiction. “What the fuck you doin’ in here?”  On some level, Lou recognized that this was an owlery, and the boy in front of him was most likely sending a letter, but then again all he really wanted was to be out of the cold and back with his peers.

[lucienvalois]

           His teeth immediately clamped down onto the inside of his cheek, holding in the sudden bout of laughter that threatened to burst from his chest. While he hadn’t expected to see Lou at the top of the stairwell, never in a hundred years would he have bet he’d run into him absolutely hammered in the owlery, of all places. It had to be a Tournament miracle, Lucien decided; there was no other plausible explanation for this rare sight. There were only a handful of times that he had witnessed Lou in such a state before, mainly following quidditch matches, but on those occasions Lucien hadn’t been quite sober enough himself to thoroughly appreciate what a few shots could do to a person like Lou. It was evident that he was far from a happy drunk — an angry one, maybe? If that was even a valid category. Lucien eagerly watched the other boy, a bemused grin spread wide across his face.

           “Didn’t bring any to share, Captain?” Though he had initially meant it as a joke, he felt somewhat disheartened once he glanced down to find that the other boy was, in fact, empty-handed. Lucien suspected that any sarcasm he responded with would only fly straight over the other boy’s head, undetected in his intoxicated state, and the line of quips that had darted to the tip of his tongue were put on hold. “I’m sending my parents a quick letter about the Tournament,” he answered plainly. “How we’re going to win it all for Beauxbatons.” A low chuckle slipped out of his mouth once he realized that this was their first time together since the grand announcement. The Beauxbatons Champions, side by side, ready to make history: one unreservedly drunk, and the other — well, the other wishing that he was drunk, too.

           “Alright,” he said, casually tossing the envelope between his hands, “I hate seeing you drunk without being drunk myself, so if you don’t have anything secretly hidden away in your pockets, let me send off this owl, and then we can head back to the carriage for a round of shots?” He paused, warily eyeing his fellow Champion. “Though I don’t think you really need another.” It wasn’t so much a suggestion as it was an established plan of action. The sooner he sent the letter, the sooner he could properly celebrate. Eyes flickering from Lou to the doorframe, a slight grimace crossed his face as he envisioned Lou stumbling down the lengthy staircase; Lucien would probably be left with no choice but to lend him a shoulder. At least it’d make for a good story.