NOT ANOTHER OPEN RP POST
Dec. 3rd, 2012 02:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wunderkind
an open rp post
(it is what it says it is)
-1-
pick a character
-2-
leave me a comment. maybe a scenario, maybe an AU scenario, maybe a picture, maybe a word,
maybe a request to resume old game canon, maybe just a comment.
i don't care. do your worst.
-2a-
helpful note: i am currently obsessed with the Walking Dead, Christmas, and vampires. can you combine those into one tag?
-3-
let's get it on
disclaimer: we probably won't get it on
+ there are no promises i will take this seriously
because divination i don't know do whatever
Date: 2014-06-04 01:12 am (UTC)OKAY I'M THE FUCKIN WORST i forgot to track this post
Date: 2014-06-12 01:43 am (UTC)[Sirius mutters this at James, and kicks him under the low table in the Divination tower.
Just how James Potter and Sirius Black ended up just one course before Advanced Divination is beyond anyone, even Professor Imago. They just keep getting good marks, and excelling, and Seeing signs and portents, as if they've got two very keen Inner Eyes.
Hell, even Sirius doesn't know how they've ended up top of the class in Divination. He's not surprised, of course--schoolwork is incredibly easy for him, and Divination is just another school course--but it's still more than amusing. Peter was weeded out in fourth year, and Remus long ago left the dusty eaves and poufs of the Tower for the more sensible desks in the Arithmancy classroom--
But Sirius likes napping in the Tower, and James likes looking at Lily Evans, who doesn't like Divination but is, also, maddeningly adept. She doesn't take it very seriously but does the coursework, which is more than can be said for fellow Gryffindors Potter and Black.
Today is a day of reading tea-leaves. First they have to drink the tea--weak, not very good, could stand with cream and a biscuit, all of these things were privately agreed between James and Sirius. And then Evans had flipped her hair over one shoulder and that was the conversation lost for the day.
Sirius edged his pocket-watch out of his pocket and flipped it open. Forty-five minutes to go. Merlin.]
I know you think that you want her to look around at you, mate, but trust me: you don't want her to look around at you. Not today. Not now.
i am so sorry for every word
Date: 2014-06-12 02:47 am (UTC)He rotates from improbable large successes to horrible, horrific tragedies- leaning on a shoulder that's never too far out of reach, like he simply doesn't have the strength to go on talking about it. It's all in the theatrics, in making people buy it- most of the muggle borns especially like to lap it up. Like having magic is quite the same as having the Inner Eye.
Not of course, that if it wasn't absolutely ridiculous, that he would be bad at it. Even without studying- there hasn't been a subject he hasn't excelled at in some form. Magic like theirs- it doesn't really need to be taught, or harnessed, just directed.
And alright...He doesn't do quite so well in Potions, but that might have to do more with a lack of patience or interest in being precise. Why waste his time chopping roots delicately in little quarter marks, when he can just reach forward and tug the hair at the nape of Sirius' neck for his attention and flick still wriggling insect legs on the laps of Slytherin girls? Or substitute whole ingredients for something he thinks will be more effective?
And if it bubbled over, well, that was intentional. Nice to have a mess, every now and again.
He grunts a little at the kick, but hardly so much as glances in Sirius' direction, caught up in the gleam of long, red hair over a shoulder. He hadn't even known hair could do that- ripple like a wave, and still shine under the oppressive, lilac smog of incense. He's sure if he were close enough, it would still smell-
Huh?
Not want her to look at him? That's a slow blink and a curious twist of his chin on the palm of his hand to regard his best friend, his partner-in-crime, his totally shite spewing stalwart companion- there is absolutely no reason for him not to want that. He has it on very good authority (of his talking mirror, of his own trusty fingers) that he looks utterly fantastic. Truly windswept and dashing-
And a little sleep-warm, the thick smoke is heavy and too hot, and he's loosened his tie about thirty minutes ago- tea without any real kick to it. If he keeps crushing his knee under the other like he is, he'll lose all feeling in his lower half soon, and even the gravelly bean chairs will feel comfortable enough to sleep on.
But even in the midsts of a daydream- he's fantastic looking. Truly]
What's the bad news, then? You saw a lizard and all my hair's going to fall out, is that it? I can see it now- Evans devastated, the Quidditch season forfeit- I'll have to go into hiding, of course.
[Can't be seen out and about like that. There's half a moment where's too distracted to continue to be theatrical- she's just pulled her hair up and oh- But he'll refocus, he's even a little curious, forced anxiousness curled around the syllables]
What is it?
oh my god never be sorry never
Date: 2014-06-12 08:11 pm (UTC)Yeah, I don't think devastated is quite the word for what Evans would be feeling, if all of your hair were to fall out. I mean, I'd be devastated, but she might be able to carry on with her life.
[Because whatever hang-ups Lily Evans has got, they can't have anything to actually do with James' hair. James' hair is basically perfect--he could stand to do the finger-comb thing a little less, maybe, but that's just a stylistic difference and preference, isn't it. Just because Sirius was blessed with hair that looks absolutely perfect without being touched throughout the day doesn't mean that everyone was granted that same gift. The unruly locks of James Potter often require help.
(Also: the finger-comb thing really is a little annoying and juvenile, but that's about the start and stop of things on the list of what Lily Evans and Sirius Black agree upon.)
Anyways. He holds out the tea-cup to lovelorn James Potter, best mate with the questionable methods of fliration, staunch companion and steady righthand man--who is, coincidentally, doomed--]
Break your nose in the Forbidden Forest. It's right here, see, there's the dark waggly bit that's your nose, and the trees are here. That's what your doomed for, my poor lad. Also I think this bit here is the Maiden in Hat cluster, which means you're going to be laughed at, probably by a girl.
[In exactly the same tone, without breaking the line of conversation, he concludes:] And also you've got a bit of egg and tea on your upper lip. Just there. Does she find that attractive? Maybe your tea leaves will tell us....
too late i am, where should i deliver my profuse apologies
Date: 2014-06-13 01:04 am (UTC)What he settles on, after digging around the sentence some, is camaraderie]
Likewise, mate.
[He caves into the grin easily, reaching out with his free hand and tugging on the ends of Sirius' hair. He's certain the loss would spread the feeling out like a pandemic about the school in a matter of hours. It's always fallen utterly perfect, even when he's so much as just rolled out of bed. James doesn't even think it gets split ends which is just all sorts of baffling- but he can't be sure and likely, it bears investigating.
But he is appreciative, rather than envious. To be envious would imply that James lacks confidence, feels self doubt and insecure- which has simply just never been true. He thinks highly of himself, enough for three people to be sure, and more importantly- he subsists entirely on sheer force of will.
He behaves as if the world- as if the very laws of reality will simply bend themselves, rewrite and deposit the desired result right into his lap, for no other reason than he wants it to. Should that fail- Sirius will simply bend it for him, neat as anything, done and done. So really, the things James has any room for concern for, carry a lot more weight and gravity.
More disturbingly, to be envious would be to imply that James covets anything Sirius has, as if he deserves it less, and the concept is as foreign to him as the knowledge that muggleborns really do fly in little tin cylinders with wings. There is nothing that James has ever had, will ever, or doesn't but wants rather desperately- that Sirius can't have just as much of. So no, even at his most frustrated, when it won't simply conform to look windswept in just the right way, he has never been envious.
But a mutual appreciation for good hair, that is capable of devastating an entire population between them, is not enough to spare Sirius the dark look he receives moments later. James straightens immediately, wiping the back of his mouth and forgoing all discretion in doing so, a sharp rough motion.
One: How could you not tell him?
Two: How could you not tell him since breakfast?
Three: Merlin, what if she's already seen it? And that's why she won't look around at him now? What-]
That can't be my nose. It's not been that waggly since the last time I broke it, 'sides the trees are hardly going to crawl up into the tower, just to duel me.
[Because obviously, he would put up a valiant fight against the tree branches first, none of that idiotic stumbling over roots nonsense that Peter is always prone to, bless him.
So she could have looked at him now, if it hadn't been for Sirius and his dubious idea of what constituted important information to divulge and time frames to divulge them in]
If only they carried such wisdom, Padfoot. [He tips the tea towards him, eyes it critically, and sighs as if the leaves are both disappointing and utterly unconcerning] They're only mentioning the itching powder hiding unexpectedly in your cloaks.
um into my open and loving arms????
Date: 2014-06-13 06:31 pm (UTC)Never where it counts, of course. Loyal to the bitter end. But: occasionally laughing at him is definitely a pastime. Sorry, Potter.
Of course, that's no reason to go tipping itching powder into his cloaks, but Sirius isn't much bothered. Or at least, he gives the illusion of not being bothered: arms folded over his chest, leaning back in his beanbag chair to fix James with a sceptical look. There are few people in the world, wizarding or otherwise, who can manage an artful and cool lean back in a beanbag chair. Sirius Black is, of course, one of them.]
Your tea leaves are telling you that I'm going to fall victim to itching powder? Sure it's not warning you, as it's actually your cup and leaves? I mean, I'm just saying, mate--
[He shrugs, blithely. The friendly bearer of what might be bad news.]
And perhaps it's not trees that are going to break your nose. Could be leaves, right, they're a derivative of trees, and then--
[He sits up a little, suddenly, eyes wide--cuts himself off, staring right beyond James, right in a very Lily Evans-y direction--]
Don't look.