#adlucemstarter

[macey-mckinnon-blog]

“You can stare, if you want. I don’t mind.” Macey tossed her hair behind her shoulder, her chin coming to rest on the palm of her hand. She leaned forward, elbow on the table as an eyebrow raised. “I’m a damn masterpiece.”

[art-weasley-blog]

Arthur Weasley wasn’t one for fancy attire or black tie affairs. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Molly asking him to come he would’ve stated far away from the Gala. He wasn’t even sure how welcome he’d be after his mother was essentially erased from the Black family for marrying his mother. But that didn’t make him any less ‘pureblood’. A word he wasn’t too fond of honestly, not liking how it set him apart from others due to no reason of his own. 

He tugged at his suit jacket, fiddling with his bowtie as he entered the party. The room was filled with people he knew from school and around the wizarding world, but he couldn’t help feeling as if he stuck out like a sore thumb. 

Taking a deep breath, Arthur stood up tall, determined not to look as out of place as he felt. He didn’t see any completely friendly faces right away, so he made a beeline for the refreshments table, letting food and drink occupy his time for the moment. 

“Shite... Has someone already managed to spike this?” His face grimaced as he took a small swig of the supposed ‘punch. 

[soz-nott-soz-blog]

As if the entire practice isn’t sadistic enough, Cas has to do more rounds just because he was late. So by the time he escapes the torture, the absolute best he can do is dropping down on the grass in the paved grounds and watching his broom roll away, refusing to lift a single finger. He huffs, attempting to stare it into submission. No luck.

“Pass me the damned thing, would ya?” Cassius lets his head fall on the ground in exasperation, looking at the person towering above him. “But then also maybe don’t. I should just sell it, move to some island where they’ve only heard of sunbathing and not even once of Quidditch, and never look back.”

[inter-se-blog]

This disgusting excuse of a textbook is nothing but a waste of time.

Some part of Cressida is almost entirely sure that the required reading list for Christmas holidays was composed by a drunk professor. In a dark room. Written with his left leg. After a concussion.

She reads a particularly astounding line of text aloud, to herself and whoever else resides in the room, followed by an almost angered sigh.

“You have to be disappointingly fucking stupid to include this in the curriculum.” 

[ohplunky-blog]

Octavius spent most of his morning in the prefect bathroom locked. The sign outside hung said maintenance, and as far as anyone could know it’s under repair. Which is strange in the wizarding world, but Dumbledore needed him to talk to the mermaid portrait after the latest complaint from one of the fifth year prefects. It wasn’t any of his business, but there he stood locked in a verbal conflict. The words in his native tongue made perfect sense to him, but anyone outside would have heard something along the lines of "ksjdlkjsaldkjsalkdjlsakjdlskajdlskajdlksjad *gurgle* slakjdlksajdlksjdsd" Some students assumed he had mastered a jibberish language on his own. He grins to the mermaid portrait as it swims around and seems to answer him in agreement. I can’t come in here again. I’m not even a prefect. You’re going to get us caught. The golden hair boy stood well over six feet tall, and he pulled a Harlequin toad from the sink. ”You are ..cause of the problem.” The thick accent something many couldn’t pinpoint, but how his dialect breaks it’s easy to assume that English wasn’t his first language. There’s what appears to be gills tattooed on the side of his neck by water colors or some impermanent paint. He normally doesn’t let anyone touch them to notice that they’re real and hides them behind his shaggy blonde mane. His skin holds a grey tint to it, just seeming like he’s one of the Albino kids that don’t leave their house ever. He waits until he believes the coast is clear and exist the prefect bathroom. Removing the sign, and keeping the toad atop of his hand. ” Ah kay. That was not so bad.” He comforts the toad as it croaks in response. Whistling he closes another door to the corridor and notes that he’s not alone now. Shit. What was the custom? Hello. It’s to say Hello. ”Hello. Is it break time?”

[springweed-blog1]

Hogwarts was number four in her list of wizarding schools. Dumbledore was convinced Hogwarts could fix her. Where Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Ilvermony didn’t. Abraxas had made that known, and of course he placed a considerable donation. Dumbledore didn’t know at the time the monetary contribution was for the things Spring would break in her tantrums. The sorting hat may have given her Gryffindor, but Spring was already mutilating the colors of her jacket and the pins. Also finding her own abandoned room to call her own “house common room”.  Spring Weed would not conform. Her fiery temper is well known. It radiates from the stomping motion her feet make instead of the light steps. It flourishes from her angry banshee shrieks at everyone.

Lunch time wasn’t any different, she sat down in the Great Hall, with her legs slacked open and not crossed lady-like. Blue eyes roll upwards as some students, she had to assume were Hufflepuff came to welcome her to Hogwarts. They were meant with an unpleasant insult and told to shove their greeting up their ass. Picking at the plate in front of her the shadow of someone crosses her. Spring hears the clack of a plate near her, and shoots daggers from her eyes. “Oi! Get another fucking table asshole. GET BENT THIS IS MY FUCKING TABLE.” Grabbing her extra carton of juice she had belligerently gained,  she throws it at the other student letting out an angry shriek.

Obviously, she can’t just hog.. the table right? But not in the mind of Spring. Then she gets mad that the person had made her throw her juice box at them. “BLIMEY YOU’RE SO FUCKING RUDE. NOW I NEED ANOTHER JUICE. FUCKING ASSHOLE. GO STICK THE SNITCH UP YOUR ANUS AND FLY THE FUCK INTO FUCKING BLOODY SUN AWAY FROM ME. FUCKING BULLSHIT. NUTTER PRAT.”

[cordeliaselwyn]

It was too damn cold. The minute she walked out of the castle and felt the chill of the November evening she nearly regretted her decision to sneak out , debating whether or not she should just turn around, go back to bed and leave her planned alone time as a distant utopia for another night.

However, a quick reminder of the bickering her roommates had engaged with, along with the current busyness of the common room, was enough for her to put one foot in front of the other and head over to the lake.

Shortly after reaching the shore, she heard footsteps coming near behind her. Damn, she thought. Either someone had followed her from the castle, or they were also feeling the need for a little bit of solitude for a night, ultimately sabotaging her plans. She managed to cover the bottle of Firewhiskey next to her with her robes as discretely as she could

“Well|” she sighed and looked up at the intruder. “Didn’t imagine I’d see you here tonight.” 

[avianna-yaxley-blog]

Avianna’s legs were stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles, as she sat in an under-populated corridor. She was painting her nails, the only time she would ever sit on these grimy floors. Some of the girls in her dormitory didn’t like the smell of the nail polish, and the common room was much too loud, so here she was. She didn’t mind all that much. It was sort of nice, actually. 

At least, until someone tripped over her foot. “Okay over there?” she asked, not looking away from her nails. “Be more careful next time. You almost ruined my top coat.”