that kid in detention

ooc/ so LM has all the sads that the comm has been so dead lately

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misterrichards:

witandimpulse:

misterrichards:

witandimpulse:

misterrichards:

 I don’t think that anyone really been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like.

If anyone had been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like, what look to go more like would they even decide to use?

If you had been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like, I would use anyone even to go look more to decide as far as you been.

But if I go really far, even to look at more, then I will decide to use like I really want.

Then go, I won’t stop you.

In that case, I would indeed be insane.

misterrichards:

witandimpulse:

misterrichards:

 I don’t think that anyone really been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like.

If anyone had been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like, what look to go more like would they even decide to use?

If you had been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like, I would use anyone even to go look more to decide as far as you been.

But if I go really far, even to look at more, then I will decide to use like I really want.

misterrichards:

witandimpulse:

misterrichards:

Hell if I know.

Your owl has been hijacked by some illiterate halfwit that miraclously came across some paper, Grayson, that’s what it means.

But

…

why?

 I don’t think that anyone really been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like.

If anyone had been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like, what look to go more like would they even decide to use?

sharasunspear:

The look that she gave Grayson was sort of like ‘pls’ she did admire his…charm, though. “Right, well you’re welcome to it, I’ve another one in my pack.” She reached in and pulled out another glowing red apple, shined it on her robes and took a bite. She hummed her satisfaction at the crunch and put her wrist to her mouth to stop the juice from leaking out. 

She looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to either insist she take the apple back or eat it. “And don’t feel that you need to thank me, sweetums.” She smirked and laughed as she said it. “Besides, it was like the world knew you were hungry, tripped me so you could have the apple. So please, you enjoy it.” She shrugged having no clue exactly what she was on about.

Contemplating a hundred of things, she decided against many of them, “Wait, you’re…it’s on the tip of my tongue, Merlin, you’re Grayson, eh? One of them wood twins? Glad to know my apple is in good hands.” She rolled her eyes more so at herself as she took another bite of the apple.

Grayson was courteous enough to let his grin turn sheepish at the look Shara gave him, but only for a moment. It was replaced with a genuine smile of thanks when she told him he could keep it, and he mimicked her movement to shine the apple in his own hand. He bit into the fruit twice before returning to the conversation.

“Aw, look! We’re already at the petname stage, dove. This looks like the start of something awesome, if I do say so myself,” he teased, wriggling his brows at her. “Fine, if you won’t take my thanks, I’ll offer you a place to sit instead,” he accepted, gesturing to the empty space around him. “It’s a good thing the world decided not to hurt you when it tripped you. Something as massive and old as the Universe must have a very special type of magic if it brought us together so you can feed me. It’s fate, I tell you,” he insisted, nodding insistently before taking yet another bite. It really was a good apple.

His face lit up with appreciation at being recognised. So many people so far had denied knowledge of his existence upon their first meeting, and with his want to be at the top of the social ladder, her question made him feel like he was on his way to doing exactly that. “Yes, I am!” He then faltered, however, because he had no idea who she was, and he instantly felt bad because of it. He quirked his head to the side, forcing his mind into motion until… yes! “And you’re Shara,” he stated, his smile returning ten-fold. Azshara: Hufflepuff, Megan’s year. His year. They had classes, though hardly spoke. He needed to change that.

clivewood:

It was the falling that woke Clive. The sensation of dropping made his heart skip a beat and his arms suddenly flung out, an unconscious reflex to protect himself from harm. Too late, his head bumped against the stone floor. It hadn’t been all that much of a fall, though. He was more worried by the fact that his head was spinning. One of his arms found the chair that had just been moved. The other found someone’s arm. Clive’s big blue eyes were wide open, but he couldn’t see anything except for a few cracks of light. It took him longer than it should have to realise that his mask had gone askew.

The small muttered word, ‘whoops’, was more than enough for Clive to identify his companion. He would know Grayson’s voice anywhere. It made him feel more relaxed, knowing that his big brother was with him, despite the confusing situation he had woken up in. Groaning slightly with the bruises of falling, he grabbed at his mask with one hand and pulled it from his face. Was the ball over? Looking around it didn’t seem to be, but people were dancing without masks, so it had to be past midnight. He couldn’t see Nathaniel in the crowd, and his heart gave a thud in sorrow. It was only after thinking of Nathaniel that he finally turned his (almost) full attention to his brother.

“Gray,” he murmured with a sleepy smile. He rubbed at his eyes, then checked the glasses he kept in his pockets weren’t broken. They weren’t, but they could have easily been repaired if they had been. “I passed out,” he giggled to himself, sounding as if he was actually pleased that he had done something so interesting. The effects of the alcohol hadn’t passed enough for him to be hung over, but he had sobered up enough to go from drunk to merely tipsy. Most of the light-headedness now came from a mixture of just waking and the influence of the love potion.

Pushing himself up into a sitting position he found himself getting dizzy, and he slumped against his brother’s side, head on Grayson’s shoulder. “I bet you can’t guess what happened, Gray,” he continued, gaining some clarity in his murmuring with each passing second since he woke. “Guess,” he prompted him, wrapping both his arms around Grayson’s and clinging tight while they both still sat under the table. He was too impatient to give his brother time to answer, and promptly blurted out, “I think I’m in love. He’s perfect, Gray. And amazing and beautiful. Is this what love feels like?” Because Grayson had the answer to everything, as far as Clive was concerned. Even as he waited for an answer he lifted his head to gaze out across the dance floor, his blue eyes wide as he searched for his true love, Nathaniel Hargrove.

“Oh good, you’re not completely shitfaced,” Grayson commented with a laugh once Clive answered his unvoiced question of ‘how fucked are you?’ with recognition. “You did,” he confirmed, reaching out to ruffle Clive’s hair with an air of pride. In his honest opinion, his brother was dealing with the effects of alcohol with ease compared to some of the other students around the room.

He repositioned himself so he was sitting next to Clive when he leaned against him, giving him an amused look when he started talking. What on earth had Angus been up to? He didn’t have long to wait, really, because he wasn’t given any time to consider a proper response to the guessing game when the younger boy rushed on. “Love?” he asked, wondering if Clive had just been given one hell of a snog and was still trying to regain his head. Remembering he still had a cup of water in his hand, he glanced between the cup, his brother, and the cup again before he emptied its contents on him. His plan was that it would help clear his head up, and being a little tipsy himself was the only explanation for why that may have even sounded remotely like a good idea.

“Still in love?” he asked, beaming, then wondered for half a second whether he should get them up off of the floor. At that moment, he caught a sight of Damien moving across the opposite end of the room and he recalled his brother’s words. ‘He’s perfect, Gray. And amazing and beautiful.’ He bit his lip, glancing down once more at Clive, and decided that they were just fine sitting where they were. “So tell me about him,” he heard himself requesting. “How long have you felt you loved him?”

He wished he had a drink. As much as he loved his fellow student body, he trusted none of them well enough to just randomly pick up a cup and drink from it. He spotted a cup of punch that hadn’t been knocked over yet just within arms’ reach, but caution stayed his hand. “Is his smile something you strive for? His scent recognisable even from a distance? Do you replay scenarios in your head of memories you wished had gone differently?” His tone held a trace of longing, though he didn’t notice and would deny it ever happened were Clive to bring it up. Grayson was not in love; he was just helping out his brother.

clivewood:

Clive Wood was not awake for the strike of midnight at the Masquerade ball. In fact, he was passed out under one of the tables at the edge of the Great Hall. The combination of his light weight, low alcohol tolerance, and excessive consumption of spiked lemonade and punch had left him sick and eventually unconscious. He wasn’t sure if this meant that he was a sleepy-drunk or if he was just tired because it was way past his usual bedtime. He’d started off with a lot of giggling, but that had been when he was back in the tipsy stage. Something Clive didn’t know about drinking is that often the alcohol takes a while to sink in. He felt fine for long enough to drink more than his fair share, then all of a sudden he could barely stand straight, let alone walk without stumbling. From then on his mind had been a fuzzy cocktail of floating lights and Nathaniel Hargrove’s face.

He didn’t understand his newfound love for Nathaniel, nor did he question it. It simply was, and he had been left to pine pathetically for the much-older boy for the rest of the night. For most of the night he was light-headed with what he thought was love, swaying out of time with the music and bumping into far too many people. Eventually he had found himself sitting at a table, and the last thing he remembered was vomiting a foul concoction that was mostly liquid.

A couple of house elves had since cleaned up the vomit, and Clive had fallen from his chair, which is how he ended up on the floor. The white table-cloth had been dragged askew, twisted around one of his legs. Clive’s mask too, was now only half-on. Through the eye-holes of his puppy-mask, one eyebrow and one cheek could be seen. He sleep was so deep that he hadn’t even noticed the bruises forming on his shoulder and elbow from falling, or the cheering starting up as the prefects were announced.

Grayson had abandoned his mask, as was ordered a few moments ago before the announcements of the Prefects, Head Boy and Girl, and the Quidditch teams, and his unveiled face shone with excitement and enthusiasm. He was having a blast! And it had only gotten so much better now that he could recognise people for who they were. It did kind of bum him out that he still couldn’t make a connection between the lovely masks in his hazy memories to the faces around him, though.

Once they were given the go-ahead to continue on with their merry-making, Grayson turned around to scan the room for the people he most wanted to spend the rest of the night with. He was unable to spot Damien or Jules or even Riley or Megan on his first few scan-throughs, but he did spot a familiar figure sprawled unceremoniously under a table with half a dog’s mask knocked askew. He beamed proudly at his kid brother, only being called that because he was younger than himself - and that it was only by a year hardly mattered.

He found an empty cup, rinsed it out via an aguamenti spell and a rubbish bin, then refilled it with the same spell. Holding this water-filled cup with one hand, he awkwardly crawled under the table with his remaining three limbs and knelt down in front of him. “Clive-o,” he chirped in a bright voice, one he really wouldn’t appreciate being woken up by had he passed out thanks to the effects of alcohol, and shoved the chair he was half-slumped against out of the way so he wouldn’t be leaning at such an awkward position. He’d forgotten to brace his brother, however, and the impact [which made Grayson flinch] of meeting the floor should undoubtedly wake him up if his greeting hadn’t.

“Whoops,” he muttered to himself, barely keeping the grin off of his face as he unwound the cloth from Clive’s leg. If luck prevailed, because Clive was very lucky that Grayson had found him and not someone else, and assuming Grayson possessed the luck as well, Grayson could claim Clive had fallen on his own accord. It wouldn’t be pushing anything far-fetched, since falling was bound to have produced some ugly looking bruises that Grayson had nothing to do with.

Even for people as usually sprightly as Grayson Wood had really bad days, and this forlornly and typically overcast day was one of them. Fortunately, it wasn’t as awful a mood as to send him into catatonic muteness, but rather into a state of frustration and ever-growing annoyance. Everything from someone rudely sneezing during his nap in Astrology to being accidentally tripped in the corridors leaving his final class was driving him up the friggin’ walls!

He’d thrown up his arms and yelled out his disgruntlement right then and there, adding in a mightily rude gesture at the back of whatever-tosser-had-tripped-him’s head. Upon turning around, however, he had been told exactly how unimpressed Professor Immar was with his ridiculous and childish antics in as few words as ‘Five points from Gryffindor’, in which he replied with a stony expression. She was very fluent in Stony Expression, apparently, because he was also given a detention for disrespect.

Turning around and stomping in the opposite direction, he stopped in front of the first person he recognised as someone he wouldn’t scare the fuck off with one of his many outrageous ‘bitch fits’, exhaled loudly in irritation and asked, “You know what pisses me off about getting a detention from Immar? Is that I’m not even in her class until tomorrow! How fair is that? Merlin’s tits!”

sharasunspear:

The day had begun as normal as any. She let her hair out of it’s sleeping bun and jumped out of bed. Yes, jumped, in the morning Azshara was very energetic. It was like she lived for those moments where the sun was just rising over the horizon, cloaking the sky and ground in amazing colours.

She dressed, school robes of course, and pulling her long black hair -after it’d been brushed of course- into a high pony-tail. She smiled at her reflection before grabbing her bag for classes today. Departing with her dorm mates down the stairs, and into the hall she ventured on her own to the first class of the day: Herbology.

One of her favourite classes, she enjoyed making things grow, seeing things grow as well. Nothing of note happened, she cared for the plant as the professor had instructed and onto class two. The day faded into a certain monotony that was inherently boring, though not exhausting. By lunchtime, she found herself brimming with energy and nowhere to spend it. 

In the great hall she grabbed an apple and walked quickly outside. Into the courtyard and a root of a tree tripped her step, the apple fell out of her hand and rolled across the ground, resting by someone’s feet. “Sorry, I’m rather clumsy.” Somewhat of a lie, she went towards the person to retrieve her apple.

Grayson had just returned to the courtyard from Hagrid’s. He didn’t know exactly why he kept agreeing to meet the half-giant for the occasional lunch time visit, but he did, and every time he came back even hungrier than when he’d headed out. He’d take himself a small sandwich if it wouldn’t hurt Hagrid’s feelings, but he really ought not take that chance. In all honesty, the old chap probably just longed for company, and the hopeful look in his eye when he invited Grayson was enough to get him to agree. So there was his reason.

His stomach was groaning in protest, making his face show his predicament with a downturn of his lips and a scrunch of his nose. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, twisting it between his hands for something to do and think of other than the beginning symptoms of starvation he was undoubtedly beginning to experience. He was going to die before the day was up, he just knew it.

The universe was against this, however, because about a minute after he’d collapsed by a tree, and in the midst of thinking about the scrumptious breakfast he’d had this morning, his saving grace came to him in the form of an apple. He’d closed his eyes and let his head slump against the rough bark of the tree when it hit his foot, and, upon seeing it, he perked back up to fetch it off of the ground. The voice that accompanied it made him frown. Perhaps the universe hadn’t decided to save him today. Damn.

“Now, sweetums, you really didn’t have to bring me lunch, but I appreciate the offer,” he winked, tossing the apple into the air and catching it with a flourish. He lifted it up, offering it to Shara with a smile. Maybe he wasn’t as hungry as he thought he was, if it meant depriving a pretty little thing as she was of nourishment. “By all means, enjoy!”

Not if I kick yours first! But conwoofulations to you, too! Dad is going to be happy :3

challenge you to a practise round later?

also, tell him i need more of those spark bomb thingers - purely for recreation, of course ;D