Slytherin: I slept for almost twelve hours but I might still be tired so let’s go for twelve more just in case.
Ravenclaw: That’s a coma.
Slytherin: Sounds festive.
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@mudbloodmasquerade
Slytherin: I slept for almost twelve hours but I might still be tired so let’s go for twelve more just in case.
Ravenclaw: That’s a coma.
Slytherin: Sounds festive.
I could no longer distinguish people from monsters.
—tahereh mafi, a very large expanse of sea
Slytherin: I’m gonna need a human skull but you can’t ask why.
Ravenclaw: Only if you don’t ask why.
Ravenclaw: *pulls four pristine human skulls out of their bag* Choose one.
Slytherin:
Ravenclaw:
Slytherin: This one will do.
Ravenclaw Nature Aesthetic
Reblog this if you’re an active indie Harry Potter Roleplay blog!
I just joined this community, so I know next to nothing about it and I don’t really know who to rp with. If you don’t mind either showing me the ropes or maybe rping with me please reblog this!
~*~
Happy thoughts 𝙃𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨
In shards
All over the 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳
chasingxprongs:
James looked up as he heard the approaching footsteps, tilting his head curiously as he saw her descending on them. It’s not like he’d never spoken to Jolene in his life, she was a red head after all and James had a thing — but he’d never had to survive under the steely determination of her sole attention. He couldn’t quite figure her out, she seemed pretty high maintenance and not his usual type but he had to admit he was intrigued. And she was a challenge, a challenge to figure out, a challenge to impress and James had never been able to back down from a challenge.
So he stepped forward as she approached, ignoring the whispers of Sirius and Remus as he fixed her with his patented James Potter charming grin.
“Alright Jolene?” he asked, struggling not to let it show on his face when she asked him well — informed him — that he was to be her date to Slughorn’s party.
“I’m what now?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’d rather eat my own fucking broom than go to one of the Slugs parties.”
He mock shuddered, putting on a bit of a performance for their perceived audience. He wasn’t lying. He fucking hated those pretentious things and couldn’t imagine anything worse than having to spend a night in the company of the elitist Potion Master. He’d been asked to join Slug Club once. When Slughorn figured out that yes, he was the son of Fleamont Potter, but no — he had absolutely no interest in the family business and no intentions of going into the potion market. Slughorn had been bitterly disappointed in him and James had thrived off that.
“What’s in it for me?” he asked, sighing as he realised he was going to have to fucking go. The gentleman in him wasn’t going to let him reject her when she’d been brave enough to approach him in front of people. He doubted she cared, but he didn’t want to inflict that on her either way. “As much as being your date is a fucking treat, I’m gonna need a bit more incentive to go to one of those dull things.”
It wasn’t as if she’d expected him to jump for joy, at least not in front of her. The reputation of Slug Club parties was a difficult thing to brush off. But his lack of enthusiasm was a bit off putting. Jolene also abhorred the idea of sitting through dinner with Slughorn prattling on about his past students -- all of whom were far more accomplished than he. But she worked hard for this invitation. It had taken her all of last year just to get the old man to acknowledge her, let alone extend an invitation. Something that should have been as easy as killing an ant had evaded her until she finally caved and asked Narcissa for help. It was pivotal the Christmas party go well, and part of that included having the right date to escort her.
“ It is a treat, isn’t it? ”
There were plenty of boys she could charm and drag along, but there was something about James. He wasn’t easy, and whether it was the prospect of using him to get under Lily’s skin, or to forget about last weekend with Lucius, or some other unknown perk of snaking her arm through his Jolene was curious. There was also the fact Jame’s refusal of club membership was no secret, and pulling him, bringing him to the table would put her in Slughorn’s good graces.
Sliver eye’s fell to the floor, frost lining the edges, Jolene’s feet drifting ever closer. Her voice -- honey and magma lowered to a simmer.
“ I can offer plenty of incentives, James. ” Manicured fingers plucked invisible lint from his shoulder, lingering briefly as they brushed past his collar. Their audience -- Black and the other one whose name Jolene couldn’t quite remember, had stoped talking.
“ Name it. ”
muchmorethanmuses:
He likes the way she says his name - likes the sound of her voice - likes the other noises he can get her to make even more. He likes to look at her - she is pale and beautiful, like his wife - but she wraps herself in red and while usually, that was a colour worn by those he hated - she always looks resplendent in it. It reminds him - perhaps subconsciously - of the blood pounding its way through his veins…
And how she makes his blood pound.
He does not love her - rather like he does not love Narcissa - but he loves her company and, perhaps naively, he thinks it almost the same.
“Of course I did.” He says warmly, draping his cloak over a chair, before approaching her, hands slipping around her slim waist with an ease and comfort that would be telling to any outside observer that this is not a fledgeling tryst but something long-lived and well practised. “How could I not?”
He would have to discourage her from getting too used to it after all - on the ladder of priorities, after all, she was nearly the bottom rung… And it would not do to have her growing cold or jealous or even dangerous.
Narcissa, he doubted, would leave were his infidelity uncovered - but it would make their uneasy marriage unbearable and the rest of his life difficult, at least, for some time.
“You know I can refuse you nothing.”
An easy smile finds its place. It’s faint, and one rarely seen outside this space, one rarely seen since her days in the Ravenclaw common room. Jolene’s delicate hands fall to his chest. It’s familiar, but it does little to ease her mind. The feeling of his beating heart below her palm, the memories of its rhythm uneven and erratic, the knowledge she could so easily send it racing once more -- none of it helps.
Fingers, long and soft ghost across his neck and come to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Jolene’s attempt to regain control of her breathing and her thoughts lives there, solely in the tips of her fingers, and its life is fading fast.
“ You’re full of it, you refuse me plenty. ”
It was too late to pretend as if this was a normal night. She called him after all. And he came.
Her body was stiff, nerves alight. The icicles on her spine transformed into boiling pools of water in her gut. Pearl white teeth once again came to drag across her bottom lip -- it’s chapped caverns collapsing as the flesh tore ever so slightly.
" Kiss me ”
The request was simple, selfish, and perhaps the last.
Deceiving others – that’s what the world calls romance. Infidelity laced with an unspoken understanding: Narcissa must never know.
A drop of sweat fell from the tip of his nose. It hit betwixt shoulder blades, and rolled down to the small of her back. The morality of their actions no longer festered in the back of her mind. No. It sat on the top of her spine and leaked into her core – a pool of igneous need.
She knew what this was. It had gone on long enough for any foolish dreams of something more to wither and die. It’s said that every man wants a woman to appeal to his better side, his nobler instincts, higher nature – and another woman to help him forget. Jolene A D O R E D helping him forget.
A whimper oozed from freshly bitten lips, and leaked out into the air. Her voice –debauched, and heavy encased them like wet concrete. It mingled with the sound of skin on skin and muffled the outside world. A hand, fingers long and callous free caressed her neck before sliding down to her chest.
Fraud, chicanery, infidelity – L I E S. It all came naturally. A skill that developed so early she couldn’t recall the first time she lied. The first time she was lied to however, that was crystal clear.
“ T R U S T M E ” The words had waltzed from her mother’s lips that day as she pulled the young girl into the dark and damp church. Jolene quickly learned that trust was something adults told children existed so they could twist it and smother the parts of them they deemed unfit.
Mingled breaths, out of synch and rapid lost their necessity as he wrapped his arms around her middle. Her sweat covered back hit dirty sheets. Bruised blue orbs met stark silver puddles. Lucius Malfoy – when not near the girl he loved, could easily love the girl he’s near, and Jolene was always near. His head fell to the crook of her neck – teeth grazing her flesh, nose imbibing her scent. His breath stentorian invaded her body, sending tremors through her like static on a radio station.
Manicured nails broke soft alabaster flesh. They slid down his back leaving red streams in their wake. His body was hers to carve out a new world in, and she was more than willing to play cartographer. A deep groan bounced from rib to rib until it was far too strong to be kept hidden away in his throat. It reverberated off the walls of their rented room above The White Wyvern. This wasn’t their first time making use of it, nor would it be their last, the wedding just around the corner. Each day that Jolene answered Narcissa’s call for help with flowers, or dresses, or menus, she would answer Lucius’s call that night. These meetings were increasing in frequency, and she dare not ask why.
The word betrayal floated into her mind, but was quickly pushed aside. Only those who love can be betrayed, and only those who trust can love.
S I L E N C E. He rolled off her and pressed the heals of his hands to his eye’s.
Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who know love’s tragedies.
Jolene’s pale chest rose and fell as she came down from the high. The bed shifted, and Lucius walked to the door, dressing. He paused and looked back to her, sweat drenched plush strands sticking to her cheeks. It appeared as tough a thought crossed his mind, some realization on the catalyst of his lips. Whatever it was, Jolene would have to wait. He left with out a word. The door closing with a soft click.
The cruelest lies are told in silence.
If you think I’m 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚… You should see me in a ᴄʀᴏᴡɴ.
~*~