per angusta ad augusta.

autumn approaches and the heart begins to dream. liza xxii, multimuse hp verse.

[trcshcans-blog]

summcry:

Expressing himself had always been a struggle. Daisuke had dabbled in many things, honed in many skills before he realized that music was where he wanted to concentrate most of his energy. “Ah, well, I suppose a bit of both, but more of the expressor, I think.” For so long, Daisuke struggled with issues with his identity and feeling as if he belonged somewhere. Back then, he would have been more of the drowner, swimming in lakes while the rest around him climbed mountains. Now, however, even if his voice still didn’t carry and he often let his wife do most of the talking, he carefully crafted his messages within his musical pieces. “What about you? Do you have a favorite form of self-expression?”

While certainly not the loudest of her cousins, Molly wasn’t inclined to go through life being just another Weasley. Whether it was a big impact or a small one, Molly was determined to leave her mark on the world somehow. Growing up in a warzone was tough, but she wouldn’t be drowned out. She’d been raised to be resilient, to be independent and most of all, to always be herself. Molly had too much respect for her mother and what she experienced as a child to allow herself to be swallowed. “I prefer drawing, though I don’t have any favourite medium just yet. I find I prefer to try a bit of everything, and that some things are best expressed in some mediums and not others -- for instance, using charcoal to draw and smudging it tends to make whatever I’m drawing darker, even sinister. I wouldn’t draw something that makes me happy in charcoal unless it also made me sad, you know? Mixed media is the most fun, though -- you can add so many dimensions to your concept when you bring in texture. It’s amazing what the element of touch can do for your interpretation of something.” 

[trcshcans-blog]

theworldbreaks:

“Ah yes, you’re right. I must’ve missed all of those etiquette lessons we all took. Good thing you went so you could teach me everything, yeah?” Teddy held his face together in a painful sort of grimace as he tried not to laugh along. He had missed her jubilant laughter, the way she somehow managed to convey her entire personality through a few splutters. “I dunno, I can count on both hands a few pushovers I prefer. Although, I think they might outrank you on the pushover scale, so you’ve just got some competition I’d say. Best get on that.”

“Too punk rock to join me in my suffering, clearly -- imagine if you didn’t have me to teach you that hitting a bludger at someone was obviously the best way to deal with an arsehole, or that yelling, OI, FUCK OFF is more effective than ‘kindly leave’?? You’d be a HEATHEN.” Most people assumed that because of her brazen boldness and general inability to filter either her thoughts or actions, Ara was a Gryffindor. It was an assumption that caused great offence and a prompt dissolution of any goodwill before she launched into a rant about house stereotypes. Particularly the injustice Hufflepuff faced. It was the last house anyone expected the daughter of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin to end up in, but Ara would fight to the death before being in another one. “What’s this blasphemy? You, preferring someone else over me??? Sounds fake. Maybe I need a new category -- favourite Hufflepuff?n Favourite pain in the butt? Favourite most-creative-curser?”

[trcshcans-blog]

inkspillcd:

She laughed. An uncommon lightness to her usually tightly-wound shoulders and legs crossed loosely at the ankles made for casual figure reclining on a picnic blanket in the park. She was almost like a different person. Of course, the whole conundrum of her self was that, as distant and detached as she held herself from relationships and affection, there was some deuced, unquashable kernel of hope within her that held people entirely too close to the heart for comfort. The great and terrible secret she refused to acknowledge and the very crux of her more paradoxical qualities was that Gisèle didn’t not believe in intimacy; she was terrified of it. And the girl beside her in that moment? She was the sole exception to the rule. 

No distance, physical or emotional, was allowed to permeate this one relationship in her life. They could give each other space if that was what was needed – and it definitely had been, as they had each grown up and into the individual women they were maturing into – but it never truly translated into distance. If only but for an hour or two on a Sunday afternoon, the two always found a way to make it work. Sometimes, she thought those moments might have been the brightest spots in her life.

And so, her smile was every bit as bright as Adelaide Vaughn’s position in her life, as she mused, “Well, alternatively, they might also take offense that we frequent their establishment so often, yet you chose not to propose there? You would be the one to do it in this scenario, wouldn’t you? Purely based on precedent.” Because of all the subtle differences between them, that one might have been the most stark: Ada knew of close-knit families and happy marriages the way she might never do. “However, I can definitely wear Grandmère’s emerald if you think it will get us free champagne and an excuse to also go shopping. You know, so we can buy lacy black things, just like the other eighty percent of your wardrobe.”

Sometimes, Ada thought her mind felt like the universe. Endless and expansive, full of so many stars and galaxies and secrets that it was impossible to know them all, let alone find one’s way around. It felt like a cosmic chessboard, with pieces endlessly being moved into place. It was her cross to bear, that despite the perpetual expression of boredom etched onto her features, her mind was anything but empty. Merely just too much for the average person to comprehend. Sometimes, it even felt like too much for Ada. Gisèle had always offered a kind of peace from it, ensuring Ada never fell too deep in her mind or stayed too long so that she forgot to come out. But mostly, she offered Ada something very, very, very few people could -- understanding. Ada could count on one hand the number of people who came close to being able to keep up with her mind, and Gisèle was one. The ease in which Ada reclined on the rug, a sense of calm contentment she rarely found outside of time spent with her best friend. 

“You make a valid point,” Ada hummed in agreement, as if she were debating the best way to approach a serious case not planning their hypothetical fake engagement. “Offending them and lose our privileges as frequenters of their fine establishment is obviously out of the question -- what if they thought I proposed at a different establishment? They’d never forgive us.” Ada’s fingers absently tapped a rhythm on the picnic rug as she paused to ponder their conundrum. Ada proposing was, of course, the logical choice -- Gisèle wasn’t wrong there. Despite losing her mother when she was a teenager, Ada knew she had been fortunate to have a father who brought home flowers for her mother every night, and a mother who was always ready with a hug should she need one and a twin brother whose covers she could always crawl under when her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. They weren’t the same, picturesque family anymore now that Eliana Vaughn was no longer with them, but they were still a family in a way Gisèle’s had never been. It was part of the reason why the girls had always clung to each other so tightly as children -- they were their own kind of family. “Perhaps we ought to stage a proposal there, purely for their benefit of course. A ring hidden in a box of black lacy lingerie, perhaps?” A wry smile curled on her lips. “I don’t advocate for combining last names, however, Rousseau-Parkinson is already a mouthful without adding Vaughn to the end. In case they ask.”

[trcshcans-blog]

ttheworldbreaks:

Teddy was the sort of person who fed off of other people. He always had, ever since he was little. As a child his hair color would flip between colors, depending on who he was around, and while it happened less as he grew up and could control his transformations, it still always changed to match Ara’s hair color of the week. She was an odd sense of comfort that he never truly expected. Small and gritty, with plenty of attitude–actually, she was very much the sort of person that Teddy adored. It made it easy then to hold his friend close, happy that despite everything, he still had that ability. “That’s my lady. Always manners with you, aye? I mean sometimes you’ve just got to stop being so polite, Wood. You’re such a bloody pushover.”

“What kind of Hufflepuff would I be if I wasn’t all manners and charms and the epitome of politeness and pushovers? My dads raised me better than that.” Ara only just managed to make it until the end of her sentence before she burst out laughing, doubling over as she tried to regain her breath. One didn’t have to know Ara Wood well to know what a load of bullshit she’d just spewed. She’d been raised by MARCUS FLINT, after all. Not that she was a terrible person, but she used her elbows far more than she ever said excuse me. Ara was about as far from the pushover Hufflepuff stereotype as you could get. “I’m your favourite bloody pushover.”

[trcshcans-blog]

ignitetheworld:

“Obviously the sparkly santa hat. What sort of decision is that?”

“Sana hats are amazing, I decorated mine with the cutest little elves, but reindeer ears are also amazing?? Reindeer are AMAZING, if I could be an animagus and have any animal as my alter ego, I reckon a reindeer would be the coolest.”

[trcshcans-blog]

summcry:

“War permeates every aspect of life, considering that it’s the lowest display of humanity. It affects all parts of civilization, and is reflected in its culture. It says a lot about British culture, for example, that they spend a lot of time with their head in the sand and not owning up to their imperialistic ways. But I digress.” He pursed his lip, steering the conversation and reeling it back into territory that he was more comfortable with. He had far more expertise in music than he did on all-encompassing culture. “You are right, though, that they at least recognize the power of war War is hell, after all,” Daisuke quoted the famous, brief description of war that managed to describe it in so few words. “And there’s an escapism in music, I think. Or there are for some people, at any rate. The value of music depends on the person. Some use it to drown out the noise of the rest of the world while others use it to express themselves and scream back into the void. So to speak.”

Molly slid into the seat opposite her newfound conversation companion, finally placing the cinnamon hot chocolate she’d had precariously balanced in her hands on a flat surface. It might’ve been rude to sit without asking, but already a little bit of the drink had spilled over onto the saucer, and Molly wasn’t going to risk losing anymore. Music wasn’t her area of expertise -- in fact, she knew very little about that particular art form, preferring to focus more on the visual, -- but she could see the point he was making. It sounded a lot like how she viewed art. “So which are you,” Molly leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands with a smile. “The expressor or the drowner?”

[trcshcans-blog]

“Which seems more christmas party to you -- sparkly santa hat or sparkly reindeer ears?”

[rpstarterss]

Christmas/Winter Starters:

“Guess who signed us up to go Christmas caroling?”

“Sorry, it’s not me, it’s the eggnog.”

“Don’t get mad, but I think I set the Christmas tree on fire.”

“What must Santa have been smoking to think his reindeer can talk?”

“If me and Santa got into a fight, who do you think would win?”

“I guess someone’s not getting any use out of that slutty Santa outfit they bought.”

“All in saying is no one would catch us if we chopped down a tree.”

“I tried to buy one of those singing Santas but I spilled water on it and now it sounds demonic.”

“You know, you remind me a lot of the Grinch. The only difference is in the end, his heart grows three sizes, but you stay an asshole.”

“Pleaseeee? Nobody else wants to play Santa!!”

“I forgot how much work gingerbread houses were..”

“Don’t tell me this is your first hot chocolate?!”

“I swear if Frosty the Snowman doesn’t melt in the next five minutes, I’m shutting it off.”

“Umm just so you know, I’m kind of stuck in the Christmas lights.”

“Looks like you’re getting coal this year.”

“I just took an online quiz and it said I was on the Naughty List!! If it was you I could see it, but not me!”

“Are you seriously crying over Rudolph..?”  

“We’re not watching Hallmark Christmas movies.”

“Cancel all your plans! We’re watching Hallmark Christmas movies!”    

“What the hell kind of Charlie Brown Christmas tree did you buy?”

“I lit the fire because I want to make sure Santa knows who’s boss when he comes down that chimney.”  

“What did you ask for this Christmas?”

“Will you help me go Christmas shopping?”

“Have you seriously never eaten a candy cane?”

“Is there some kind of old woman shop where they sell those weird Christmas trees made of strawberry candy?”  

“Hey, I bought a paint your own ornament kit. Let’s make some!”

“Is this your first time getting/giving a present?”

“I just called to tell you Merry Christmas!”

“Will you drive around with me to look at the Christmas lights?”

“Please stop singing Christmas songs.”

“Why aren’t you singing along to the Christmas carols?”

“If you ring those dumb jingle bells one more time, I will wring your neck.”

“Oh my god is that a mistletoe..?”

“What kind of Christmas would it be if we didn’t play in the snow?”  

[trcshcans-blog]

adara/albus

It was rare for Adara to have any emotional investment in those outside of her family, and even rarer for her to display this emotional investment in the form of affection, including via gift giving. 

Albus was no exception to this.

He wasn’t a friend, at least not by Adara’s standards. Being as introverted as she was, people tired Adara out faster than they did most others, and opening herself up to caring led to being overwhelmed. It was easier to maintain her air of indifference, letting in only those closest to her -- her family. It could be lonely, but growing up surrounded by her books, she’d never felt ALONE. 

Albus Potter wasn’t a friend, because friends demanded things from you. Albus didn’t. He was content to take what Adara gave, never asking for more even if what she gave was barer than the bare minimum. An incline of the head, a hint of a smile, a book owled with a note that simply said ‘return with your thoughts when you are finished -- adara nott.’, someone to stand on the sidelines with at parties their extroverted cousins inevitably dragged them too, a companion in their silence. He didn’t ask for Adara to CARE, and she didn’t offer. 

Still, though, the modicum of attention she gave to Albus’ existence was more than what most people got from her, and that deserved at least some recognition at Christmas time. While Adara wasn’t going to go all out for Albus like she did her cousins, she had enough manners to owl him a card wishing him a Merry Christmas, with a sidenote P.S at the end personalising the card, recommending another book and saying he could borrow it from her if he wished to. 

[trcshcans-blog]

🎁 molly x valentina

Every year, the struggle to buy her friends and family gifts that they would appreciate and enjoy in the short term AND not become junk six months later got harder and harder. Being currently unemployed -- she occasionally did work as a freelance artist, but Molly wouldn’t call that a job per se -- meant she had no excuse when it came to gifts. A mediocre, stocking filler type gift would not do, so this year Molly decided to try something different. With a little help from Grandma Molly and magic, Molly wanted to do a theme of personalised, homemade useful  sentimental gifts that could hopefully last the test of time. 

Valentina’s gift had been inspired by the growing number of book piles in her apartment. Molly hadn’t grown up with the legendary Nott library like her cousins had, but knew the love of reading it had inspired in them, and thus also knew the struggle of getting your books to stand up, particularly ones that weren’t in an enclosed shelf. The design of the bookend itself was simple enough, Molly had replicated an old fashioned style book cover out of wood, moulding it into an L shape. The words ‘Valentina Nott’ were written in hand painted calligraphy in the centre of the spine, where the book title might go, with ‘the sound and the fury’ written below where the author might go. It was a Shakespearean reference she knew Valentina identified with -- and what was a gift for Valentina Nott that didn’t involve Shakespeare? It had taken Molly hours and hours of practising to get the font right. The cover had taken days. Molly had monogrammed the letters ‘V’ and ‘N’ on it, entwining the letters together and decorating them with motifs that reminder Molly of her fearless cousin. Flames encased the letters, while two regal dragons snaked around the bottom and up one side. It was how she envisaged her cousin -- fierce and proud and loyal, ready to burn anything and anyone to ashed that dared block her path, althoughstill soft enough to keep you warm. Molly hoped she’d managed to show this in her art. ‘Aut viam inveniam aut faciam’ was inscribed below the initials, like a family crest, except it was a Valentina Nott crest only. Audrey Nott was the bravest person Molly had ever met, but Valentina came close. They were different types of bravery, Molly thought, one quiet but enduring and the other roaring and untameable -- and she admired them both, more than she could say. The bookends were placed in a velvet lined box and tied with a monogrammed ribbon that could double as a bookmark. 

“So I KNOW you have like, millions of books, and probably don’t need a bookend because you, y’know, have enough books that they can support themselves, but I thought that bookends would still be really cool??” Molly rambled, cheeks flushing pink as she handed over the box to her cousin. If she chewed on her lip any harder, Molly thought she’d cease to have a lip to chew on. “If you wanted to display books somewhere but they wouldn’t stand up on their own, or like, y’know, you don’t HAVE to use them as bookends or even use them at all if you don’t want it’s completely up to you, obviously, of course it’s up to you it’s your gift, but, um, yeah? I hope you like it and think the patterns seem like you, because that was my intention, to make it a reflection of you and yeah??? I just, yeah, I love you and admire you so much and I hope you can find a use for these.”

[trcshcans-blog]

@inkspillcd

❝Oh my god, she is so gorgeous it hurts.❞

[trcshcans-blog]

@inkspillcd

❝Who likes putting dicks in their mouths? That’s why they call them jobs.❞

[trcshcans-blog]

summcry:

As I’ll Be Home for Christmas rang through the speakers, Bing Crosby crooning the tune away, Daisuke set down his cup of green tea, bottom lip curling into his mouth. “You know, once upon a time, we wouldn’t have been able to listen to this song here in Britain. It was banned during the Second World War in fear that it may hurt soldier morale. It’s interesting, I think, that war even has an effect on music.”

“There’s a misconception that war only has the human cost, like lives and mental health and physical health and such but not so much other area’s like music, art, and such?” Molly couldn’t help commenting, even if she didn’t actually know the person who spoke -- at least, not personally. Culture and the arts were an interest area of hers, and this commentary drew her in like a magnet. “I mean, I guess most people are at least vaguely aware of the Nazi regime and paintings, how it was plundered and all, but there’s not much awareness of the impact of war in general on the arts? Britain was really cool though and created this War Artists Advisory Committee to hire artists to accurately represent the war, though not too accurately or you would be censored, and not too abstractly because you’d be banned. Obviously, too, not in a way that made Britain look bad or promoted anything other than ‘British values’.” Molly paused to take a breath, finally realising just how much she had talked and how much she had derailed this conversation,and blushed. “sorry -- i got completely sidetracked. It’s fascinating that something as innocent as a Christmas song could be impacted by war.”

[trcshcans-blog]

@amarcnthined

❝Oh, so aggressive! It’s turning me on.❞

[trcshcans-blog]

@amarcnthined

❝So you’re the one everyone’s afraid of?❞

[memecxllector-blog]

SEND A  ▲ AND I WILL GENERATE A NUMBER FOR WHAT MY MUSE SAYS TO YOURS.

numbers: ( 1 - 226 ) link to generator: here content: miscellaneous movie quotes, does contain some adult content.

Keep reading

[trcshcans-blog]

🎁 adara x valentina

As the years went on, Adara found it harder and harder to find a book her cousin either hadn’t read, or wasn’t already located in the vast library of the Nott estate. Each year Adara tried to find something unique for Valentina – she refused to buy just any ordinary book of a shelf, but she did like keeping with a book related theme. It was, after all, part of what bound them together so tightly. This particular gift had taken Adara a while to locate, for copies of Shakespeare’s Second Folio were almost as rare as copies of his First Folio, but Adara thought it would be worth it. “I fear I am either going to run out of books to buy you, or you’re going to run out of space for all the books I buy you,” Adara began, handing over an exquisitely wrapped package, “but I know you enjoy Shakespeare and despite you already owning multiple editions of all his works, I thought this was a fitting addition to your collection.”