fordham

"she died doing what she loved: swearing profusely." cigarettes, thunderstorms, a stiff drink, the bitter taste of a bitten tongue.

[chaserdonechasing-blog]

Do I need a reason? Mal’s pretty sure that his writes aren’t floppy, else he really would have strained his wrists as Merc had said. He’s sure he’s meant to take it as constructive criticism. He stops punching and catches the bag when it swings back to him. And you still drop your right shoulder when you go into a dive. His smirk makes the statement a friendly one. But thanks I’ll watch my wrists. Mal lets out a loud laugh at the threat of Beth. There’s not much left of me that hasn’t been broken. I’m sure I’d live. 

[magcutio-blog]

“I do not,” Mercutio retorted, a hint of a grin curling full lips up at the very corners. “My dive is perfect. Even Ben says so.” 

“Ah, but Beth hasn’t ever gotten her hands on you in earnest before, has she? You think there’s nothing left to be broken, but all that really means is you haven’t pissed her off enough to watch her spin ‘round like a Whirling Dervish.”

[magcutio-blog]

Coming to the Catapult’s party on the Catapult’s stomping grounds was a terrible, miserable, horrible idea. 

Coming to the Catapult’s party on the Catapult’s stomping grounds may have also been her terrible, miserable, horrible idea, but she wasn’t about to advertise it, not when she was having such a terrible, miserable, horrible time. 

All of the lads she’d danced with had used their masks and anonymity as an excuse to be handsier than hell. She’d lost both Ben and Romeo in the crowd Merlin only knew when, and-- six flutes of sickly sweet champagne later-- couldn’t quite remember what they’d been wearing. It wasn’t as if she could shout for them in the middle of this crowd without causing some sort of international crisis. (That the ballroom at this fête boasted better décor than the Montague’s struck her as somewhat of a personal attack, but that was neither here nor there.) 

She drowned her sixth flute and plucked up a seventh, and had only just resolved herself to having something resembling a good time even it killed her when she moved a touch too quickly and--

-- Promptly dumped half the contents of her glass down the back of the body standing far too close to her own. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, shit-- oh, I’m so sorry, let me--” 

[bones-lejuste]

“So is snorting coke off of a stripper’s ass, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try it at least once.” He picked up the pack of cards, flipping them over to skim the description on the back- they were perfect. The previous three days had strung together in a line of monotony that Ben couldn’t stomach, and he was a stone’s throw away from doing something recklessly daring if not for Merc’s quick thinking and geniusly applied knowledge of what he wanted- controlled danger. And sure he was willing to risk a slap on the head from Beth if it meant kicking Merc’s ass.

“I’m game- as long as you go first.”

[magcutio-blog]

“Benvolio, I don’t give half a shit what you snort off of whomever’s ass in your private life, so long as I don’t have to hear about it. You’re a gross munchkin. Right depraved.”

It took all she had not to squeal like a little kid on Christmas morning when he finally said yes. As it was, a merry little wriggle of her arse against the hard change room bench on which they sat was beyond her control. “Some of them shoot bog water,” she informed him, voice almost trilling with anticipation as she pulled the deck of cards from their protective box. “I heard that one of them’s a stinkbomb. We should probably come up with a good, plausible excuse for why the place smells like foul eggs and farts before we start.”

[brozencrantz-blog]

“What’s that about my tail end? You really must stop this shameless flirting, it’s starting to make you look real thirsty… though I can’t say i’m surprised. No one can resist a good Catapult, can they?” 

“Oh, you think we’re the bottom of the barrel? That’s cute, it really is. I don’t know which stats you’re reading, but anyone with a pair of eyes can see that there’s obviously a superior team here, and it’s not the one you’re on.”

[magcutio-blog]

“Brozencan’ts, we’re both well aware that if this competition concerned a certain specified portion of anatomy, I’d blow you out of the bloody water. There’s a damned good reason only one of us was voted ‘Best Arse in Quidditch’ and it sure as shit wasn’t you, lad. I’d tell you to look for yourself but I’m sure you already have.” 

“You know, that makes a lot of sense! I’ve always wondered how you could possibly manage to be such a sub-par chaser and you’ve finally answered the burning question. Not only are you dumb as a rock, you’re blind as a Texas salamander. In case you aren’t following-- because you do seem to have a hard time following, love; quaffles, bludgers, statistics, social cues, civilized conversations-- being unable to see and-slash-or think kind of contributes to you being absolutely terrible at your job. Wow. Just like that, one of life’s greatest mysteries, put to rest.” 

[magcutio-blog]

@chsrmontague

“Really, Ben-- no, Ben, I’m serious-- look!” 

A quick fumble through her pockets was all Merc needed to pull out the card game she’d purchased several days before and proceeded to carry on her person at all times in preparation for the moment Ben inevitably asked her for something dumb to do. She slapped the small package on to the bench between them and fixed him with a look that was nothing short of triumphant as she slid it slowly towards him, fingers covering the label. When she withdrew her hand-- with a flourish, of course-- the box read exactly what she’d promised it did: Exploding Snap: Russian Roulette Edition. 

“You should really stop doubting me, you know. It’s bad for your health.” 

[chaserdonechasing-blog]

[magcutio-blog]

“What’d that poor old thing ever do to you?” 

Though she knew precious little about boxing (and perhaps a touch too much about punching), Merc had never been the best at keeping her mouth shut, especially where one of her most important teammates was concerned. A minute or two of quiet watching gave way to a cell across the room. “Your wrists are a bit floppy, Macduff. Don’t bend them so much else you’ll break something before the next match and Beth’ll be apt to break you.”

[brozencrantz-blog]

“Real Talk, do you know how hard it is to impress a Jewish mother? Every time I write to her, I tell her I’ve been promoted.. it’s getting embarrassing, I should be Commander in Chief of the whole universe by now.            … . Thank god she doesn’t actually keep up to date with Quidditch, or I’d be dead.“ 

[magcutio-blog]

“Ouch. Unfortunate.”

“Crying shame that every time the mid-season stats roll out the lot of you are just a touch behind the four of us. Then again-- suppose you’d get used to it after a while, hm? Tail end... Bottom of the barrel.”

[hugh-dancy-archived]