* crawled / free.

your hands aren't free of blood, my dear, and don't you know it. dependent penelope clearwater for nox !

[pclearwaters]

YOU LOOK INTO THE EYES OF THE BOY YOU LOVE & your reflection stares back – her teeth are bared, bloody, brutal

[pclearwaters]

MEME NIGHT: accepting  wynonna  earp  sentence  starters  ,  different  headcanons  &  social  media  headcanons  !  

dudley

penelope

tempest

[pclearwaters]

kxbellem​:

“apologies.” knox only responds half heartedly as her eyes are already focused and scanning the track for the opponents. past encounters aside, perhaps there was a chance she could be somewhat civil with the other, as long as they weren’t wearing a ridiculously long dress for someone to step on, everything should go smoothly. knox quite liked smooth interactions. especially when most of her energy is focused on the bets. “i suppose i am already knee deep in bets. some more challenging than others.” she shrugged, glancing at penelope. “the real prize would be drawing bets from tier three. which i somewhat can say i’ve accomplished.”

the apology is clearly not fully genuine, but penelope can’t find it in her to care - a hand is thrown up to wave it away. her thoughts are already elsewhere, head turning back towards the track in tandem with knox. her fingers tap-dance along the rail, body relaxing into the change in the conversation: the sense of being wronged has faded, for the most part, and it quickly becomes easier to shift into polite small talk. “a successful day so far, then?” she manages to glance at knox at the same time the other glances at her and shifts away when their eyes meet, unsure if she’s been observed the whole time. “they’ve let you up there?” it’s said with incredulity, if only because she had been under the impression it would be under tight security. the minister and his nearest and dearest were there, after all.

[pclearwaters]

𝐟𝐨𝐫: hande abaci ( @impuriities​ ) 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: tier two / tutshill derby !

“do you mind?” there are so few seats left at this distance from the racecourse ( far enough away that the smell doesn’t drift up, but close enough to still just about see what’s actually happening ) that the typical british polite move of letting every group have a bench all to themselves just won’t fly. the jug of tap water with a few sad looking slices of lemon floating at the top has already made its way onto the picnic table, even if only to give penelope’s arm a rest. “i think i wore the wrong shoes.” the joy-filled atmosphere and the sun on her face ( & maybe a glass of wine that went down too well ) makes her tone so much less formal or forced, but she just stops short of rubbing the back of her heels to demonstrate how wrong these sandals were. 

[pclearwaters]

kxbellem​:

“clearwaters, was it?” knox spoke curtly, standing quite tall with her chin slightly raised. “you needn’t worry. there’s nothing much this side of the track could offer me anyways.” last time she had encountered penelope clearwaters, it was a bit ugly. now, well she wasn’t sure what to expect this time around. knox watched the racetrack with a certain keenness meant for a gambler. “no betting? hmm, does it bore you or you’re simply not up for the challenge?”

“not plural.” she mumbles it under her breath, rolling her eyes ( mostly at herself , for whatever need it was that had possessed her to say it ). penelope stays slightly slouched, gaze drifting over knox’s raised chin. she’d mostly forgotten their last encounter, could only recollect a vague sense of being wronged. the politeness she extends wavers, dipping up and away from the surface. “this side of the track? would you rather be with the jockeys?” it’s half a genuine question, half a baffled statement: perhaps she’s misunderstood, but the image is still funny nonetheless. “betting holds no joy for me.” a shrug. “will you be indulging?” 

[pclearwaters]

𝐟𝐨𝐫: knox bellamy ( @kxbellem​​ ) 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: tier two / tutshill derby !

“i’m not interested in betting.” leaning on a rail at the raceside stands with an empty pint glass in her hands ( only water, for the moment ), penelope stared out across the track. not looking at the shadow that had moved towards her, who possibly hadn’t even meant to interact with her at all, it was clear that she had encountered a handful too many enthusiastic bookies already. a sideways glance deepens the lean, eyebrows raising. “ms. bellamy. apologies.”

[pclearwaters]

woesbegone​:

“what did you say you’d lost, again?” she calls over her shoulder, too swamped with the contents of the lost & found cupboard to emerge and ask them face to face. she pushes a cardboard box overflowing with hats & scarves ( unlikely to be claimed now they were heading into summer ) out of the way and narrowly avoids getting bitten by a fangless flyer with some life left in him, holding her wand hand just a little bit higher and casting light just a LITTLE bit farther, “and when, exactly?”

penelope doesn’t go out of her way to avoid the leaky cauldron, per se, but it’s clear she’s on tenterhooks being there now. there was something in trying to not look like a lovelorn teenager that made her look even more like one. “my sister... lost their handbag.” there’s no need for the clarification, but penelope supplies it nonetheless. tempest is a happy scapegoat, an excuse for her to be doing something that is entirely normal but feels forbidden. the lost item was waved in front of penelope’s face like a victory flag – look, you live and work nearby... it’s just convenient, and boy, is it embarrassing to be seen. “last night. i think it’s blue?”

[pclearwaters]

valiantiisms​:

“Didn’t mean to disturb you,” Liana adds it as an afterthought, leaning all of her weight on her hand which is anchored against the top of a nearby chair. She holds her drink close, almost cradling it to her, now that her hand is mostly empty. “Oh you’re welcome–consider it a gift. Just something to make you smile.” And she, in turn, smiles. A beat passes before she offers, “I’m Liana.”

“not at all!” it’s mostly polite instinct that shoots these words from her mouth, but penelope doesn’t feel disturbed despite the interruption - she’s glad, almost, for an excuse to engage in small talk. while she wouldn’t be counted as its biggest fan, it was welcome in the stilted atmosphere where she doesn’t quite feel as if she belongs. “that’s lovely, thank you.” the smile on her face grows, warmth growing from her chest like vines. “good to meet you. i’m penelope. do you know the couple well?” 

[pclearwaters]

praefcrtis​:

( 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 ) — cadbury castle ( 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 ) — cadbury ren faire ( 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 ) —  closed ( 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ) — @pclearwaters​ ( or anyone !! )

“i love your costume.” daisy’s own costume was too expensive for her not to feel a little embarrassed by the dollar amount attached to it. the wings were thin and delicate, almost certainly going to tear by the day’s end when some jostled her a bit too hard in the crowd. and she was already dreading have to take the butterflies clipped in her hair out at the end of the night. “i love it when people go all out for these things.”

“oh!” it’s not the compliment she’s expecting. the delight outweighs the embarrassment : penelope has not really gone all out for this, everything she’s wearing was already a staple of her closet. “thank you– wow.” her shock and awe is genuine and she steps closer, hand hovering above the wings. she only just stops herself in time when the flimsy nature of the wings becomes evident. “may i?”

[pclearwaters]

valiantiisms​:

location: the engagement party  status: open ( @startertms​ )

She appears out of almost nowhere. With one hand, she clutches her purse, in the other, she holds a pink peony out, a small smile playing at her lips. “You look like you could use one of these.” Whether to just cheer them up or to give to someone else or what have you… well, the options are endless, but Liana outstretches her hand further, waving the flower in front of her companion’s face. “Come on, take it.” 

it is abundantly clear that penelope doesn’t expect to be spoken to : dazed eyes over the top of her champagne glass watching the candlelight’s shadows flicker against the wall. the flower under her nose smells sweet, and it only takes a second or two further silence before her gaze focuses back in on it, and by extension, on liana. “thank you.” she holds the stem delicately between her thumb and forefinger, a slow smile forming on her face. “but i have nothing to offer you in return.”

[pclearwaters]

for: @solapuerx where: somewhere in diagon alley !

“it’s michael corner, isn’t it?” penelope could be forgiven if she couldn’t remember every child she had come across as a prefect at hogwarts ( and she OFTEN forgot even the more significant faces ), but every now and again a face would spark something. she’s stopped the kid in question in the middle of diagon alley, something akin to fondness barely hidden behind her polite exterior. “you were a chaser, am i right?” of course this would be what helps her remember : an avid watcher of all the matches ravenclaw played, there was a time where she could identify her housemates on the team from a mile away ( they usually got a more lenient time if she caught them up to no good ).

[pclearwaters]

for: @dolors​ ( ol’ perce ) where: tattered covers <33

diagon  alley  was  busy  in  a  way  that  lit  up  the  usual  dull  or  humdrum  days  that  populated  january  -  it  was  natural  that  a  return  to  normal  after  the  hustle  and  bustle  of  the  christmas  season  would  feel  unbearably  slow,  but  that  didn’t  mean  penelope  couldn’t  still  feel  put-out  by  it.  as  much  as  she  shied  away  from  the  crowds,  dipping  into  her  own  pocket  to  hire  extra  staff  for  those  periods  so  that  she  wouldn’t  have  to  be  front-of-house  if  she  didn’t  want  to  be,  it  was  still  a  thrill  to  see  all  the  sofas  and  comfy  spots  of  tattered  occupied.  the  frenzy  was  joyfully  contagious,  because  of  course  it  was.  but  TODAY,  sparked  by  political  ardour,  the  streets  were  filled  and  there  was  a  pleasant  smattering  of  customers  to  the  bookstore.  

she  was  floating  between  customers,  feet  barely  touching  the  floor,  when  she  spotted  him.  not  an  irregular  sight,  but  still  one  that  tangled  the  breath  in  her  throat.  it  would  be  too  easy  to  approach,  to  place  a  hand  on  percy’s  elbow  and  guide  him  to  an  empty  spot  in  the  corner  of  the  shop  –  it  could  be  so  easy.  “afternoon.”  she’s  in  front  of  him  without  meaning  to  be  :  something  vulnerable  in  the  way  she  traced  her  eyes  over  the  edges  of  his  face.  “cup  of  tea?”

[pclearwaters]

ourcboros​:

“oh, fuck.” it’s a statement moreso than it is an exclamation. nazli is lucky enough to hear penny in the split second before they turn the corner, but they still get a bit of a fright from how much closer she is, than they were expecting. they jump - clutching the two books they have left to stack more tightly than ever, their heart skipping a beat and a streak of white shooting right through their dark hair - and take a step back, but they pull themselves together quickly. “could you do me a favour and wear a bell, please?” 

penelope echoes the jump out of habit more than anything else, a hand raising automatically to lay flat over her heart. it makes it far easier for her to settle into her amusement at the situation, though, a quiet laugh still dominating the near-silent shelves. there’s a temptation to tease about this being one of the joys of being a boss, but it’s cut short by a sudden thought: “i do think i have a dress with bells on, actually.” 

[luthienne]

—I want to change: I want to stop fear’s subtle / guidance of my life—

Frank Bidart, from Half-light: Collected Poems; “California Plush” (via luthienne)

[coenbrother-deactivated20220403]

Adria Arjona in Monsterland