#extradirty
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@petradursley
{ PETRA DURSLEY } I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!
“ I’ve got daddy issues pumping in my blood, l e a k i n g into my soul, like the drugs that lift my spirits to forget them. I will NEVER be who you want me to be, dearest father, but I am who I am, and if I’m everything you so D E S P E R A T E L Y hate – then so be it. ”
atlasmcgonagall :
“Just so happens that she’s pestering me as we speak, sweets. Does a lad even consider it pestering when said bird happens to be so lovely that he doesn’t mind a bit? Said lad is obviously in rather deep with our aforementioned lass, ain’ he? Poor sod.” Atlas shifted an arm to rub lazily at the side of his jaw, “I dunno. She’d have to tell tell me if she is or isn’t. I hope so.”
“Poor sod? You feel sorry for him, why’s that? You think being in deep is a bad thing, do ya?” she questioned, moving closer as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, batting her eyelashes at him playfully, “I think she is, you know us birds tweet around to each other and we tell each other things, things about those ruddy feelings, and I’ve heard that this Petra speaks quite happily about you. I’m sorry I didn’t reveal my information sooner. Had to know you were really in it.”
lyscaman:
“Mmm, discounts.” A grin curved onto his face, “–payments! Is that the one?”
“So cheeky, I was sure that you’d get it, but try again, bruv.”
lyscaman:
“Look. We’ve went over this before and this is the last time I’ll say it. No discounts. Payments are okay but discounts are bad for business. Sorry, bruv.”
“Say that word one more time.”
unbxrnts:
“I would’ve told you if I actually knew something about it.” Other than the fact that Amma would probably be attending.
“So, we’re the two left in the dark, aren’t we, Mathieu?” Petra frowned over at him, taking a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, you’ve any suggestions about how we’re going to get some information?”
atlasmcgonagall:
“Depends, my Pet. See, I’d have half a mind to let myself be pestered on account of how lovely the bird doing the pestering is. Then again, I could just divulge, and oblige said bird’s wishes —- make her happy an’ that. What say you, kid?”
“Well, I say you let the lovely bird pester you. Y’know, it’s not every day a lovely bird pesters you? Not at all. In fact, if you could get me this lovely bird’s number, I’d happily have her pester me but ah, yes, back to the subject. Depends, is she happy being around you? Because then I doubt she’d mind the pestering.”
tipsyturvywarrington:
“Well. I could help you, little, but then I’d miss out on a lot of e n t e r t a i n m e n t, wouldn’t I?”
“Well, that is very true. You’d miss out on a hell of a lot of entertainment. Godric knows. So, Miss W a r r i n g t o n, where do we start? I’m thinkin’ ... -- Ravenclaw?” Petra looped her arm through Jess’, giving her a kiss on the cheek, burying her head in her shoulder. “Did you use a different shampoo, Jess? Or am I finally fucked up enough to start smelling things?”
kiranskhan:
“Pardy, Pets. P a r d y. And nah, we’re all gonna have a secret turn up without you, you know. Since you’re a bit of a fucking bore.”
“Ah, right, parrrrdy,” she purred, a light giggle rolling off her tongue. Petra couldn’t help but roll her eyes because it was such a lie. A bad one at that. If Petra wasn’t anything, it wasn’t a bore. Slut, drug dealer, village bicycle, maybe. But a bore? Never. “You lie like that to everyone? I’m surprised you’ve even gotten this far in life, Kiran. And you know only Atlas can call me, Pets. It’s Petra to you.”
“So? Is anyone going to tell me about this party going on or am I going to have to pester practically half of the castle for i n f o r m a t i o n?”
mikeymacmillan:
“Hey, I’m, uh, sorry, but…as head boy, it’s my job to tell you that streaking is not allowed on campus. And you also seem rather drunk, which is…also not allowed…”
"Michael, Michael, l i s t e n ... the human body is beautiful and we only might have some time that is not much left, you know?” Her words were slurred, jumbled, even if they were full of passion and sincerity. “Why don’t you take some of those clothes off, mate? Might help you loosen up a bit.”
send me a '✉' for five times my muse didn't owl yours, and one time they did.
“Party girls don’t get hurt.” - Sia, Chandelier Reena posing for my camera with a bottle in her mouth, the dirtiest thing I’d ever heard J say still ringing in my ears. Outside: music, the moon hanging low over our faces, girls smelling of tequila, knees bruised from the things they’d done to the boys on the other side of the house. There’s spit in my hair, or maybe vomit; someone’s hand on my elbow to steady themselves. On the porch a haze of smoke surrounds the girls who clutch off-brand cigarettes between neat, painted nails. Their laughter like gold wire, like the punchline after the joke. They’re all thinking about their next haircut, their protruding collarbones. How their legs look in the late summer heat. When they'll have to get up in the morning and walk ten blocks back the other way, through ghettos and men whistling on every street corner. When they stare heavy-lidded into reflections of themselves through store-front windows and say please god let us be real.
Kristina Haynes, “Party Girls” (via fleurishes)
petra dursley via instagram
