arrogantex-blog

[arrogantex-blog]

&. dracmal

He doesn’t expect this from BLAISE. A precaution, as he had said. A precaution from WHAT? He wonders. But Draco has no choice but to watch absently as Blaise moves his immobile body and speaks so kindly to him. Surely, Blaise didn’t believe his excuse would get him off the hook…but as he feels life regain in his fingertips he sits up. His wand is the first thing he looks for, but it too was concealed by the night, tossed aside somewhere in the crevice’s of the astronomy tower. And there is Blaise standing between him & wherever his wand may be resting on the ground.

Draco only felt himself panicking more as his gaze flicks back up to Blaise. But being immobile had, at least for a short time, seized the excess sweat that had previously been beading at Draco’s forehead.

Somewhere deep down, Draco knows it’s out of CONCERN that Blaise does what he does. But he can’t justify it in the moment. He stays seated, scooting himself back into the shadows of the doorframe, where only his piercing grey eyes shown against the darkness.

“B l a i s e – ” He starts, all the signs of WARNING in his tone. There was little he could do in the moment without his wand, but he’d make sure the other knew he wouldn’t forgive being CURSED behind his back. 

HE WONDERS HOW THE DARK LORD WOULD PUNISH SUCH BETRAYAL.

“– you’ve got a lot of  n e r v e. && Not much consideration for your life…” He hisses, eyebrows darting up, gaze unwavering now. “…One would think…IF you believed such rumors about me…you’d heed a little more caution before hexing a DEATH EATER behind their back…”

Draco moved to stand, grabbing the doorknob to help keep himself steady since his body was still shaking. At least…the discourse between him and Blaise distracted his mind momentarily from the panic concerning the state of Katie Bell resting on his shoulders.

the  abruptness  of  his  choice  to  intervene,  he  knows,  is  the  only  reason  he  has  managed  it  with  such  unobstructed  success.  with  a  gesture  so  deliberately careless,  he  glances  to  the  side  — almost  as  though  he,  too,  is  searching  for  the  other’s  wand  littering  the  floor.  even  so,  he  keeps  focus  at  the  side  of  his  eye,  searching  for  any  sudden  gesture  from  the  other  that  might  prove  somewhat  problematic.  attention  recenters itself  &  resteadies  upon  his  housemate.  his  wand  taps  against  his  thigh  idly  -  his  only  telling  sign  of  his  possessing  a   (  similar  ?  )  restlessness  that  had  commanded the  other.  similar  — but  not  the  same.

the  percussion  against  his  leg  reminds  him  of  the  refrain  of  professor  moody  in  their  fourth  year.  ‘ CONSTANT  VIGILANCE,  ‘  he always  growled,  always  frowned  at  careless  behaviors  of  students.  once  he  had  seen  blaise  tapping  against  his  thigh  as  he  does  now … &  he  had  informed  him in crass words  that  he  once  knew  a  wizard  who  almost  blasted  his  testicles  off  doing  the  same  thing.  great.

moody  had  been  an  imposter — that  was  what  they  claimed.  an  escaped  convict  acting  under  the  deranged  instructions  of  you-know-who :  a death eater.

just  as  draco  had  claimed  to  be.

rumor  was  — moody’s  imposter  had  received  the  KISS.  blaise  had  heard  ghosts  whispering  about  it  in  the  halls.  his  fingers  are  tight  around  his  wand — to  follow  the  same  path,  to  make  those  mistakes,  &  to  choose  such  extreme  positions  seems  impulsive,  reckless,  stupid  to  him.   risk  is  an  enemy  to  blaise zabini;  it  tastes  bitter  on  his  tongue.  

“   —— don’t  threaten  me,  draco.  i’ve  done  nothing  to  threaten  you.  don’t  let  your  temper  get  the  best  of   you  like  usual.  “  always,  ALWAYS  his  voice  is  so amiable,  teasing.   although  the sentence  structures  itself  as  a  warning,  he  presents  it  with  the  intent  of  logic.  after all,  “ i’m  no  blood traitor.  “  

he’s  not  an  ally either,  but  that  does  not  need  to  be  said.  it’s  common  knowledge.  

[arrogantex-blog]

character aesthetics: blaise zabini

blaise was a tall, dark-skinned young man with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes that sent a chill into the air.

[arrogantex-blog]

&. rcsethcrn

Oh, how she would have killed for a summer as exciting as his. Margaery had spent most of the break with her grandmother in Bordeaux–at frivolously enormous estate, yes, but it had not been half so engaging as casual trips to Egypt and Russia. 

“The excitement of your life is wasted on you, Blaise,” she lamented, giving him a simply tortured look. “I was confined to the vineyard estate all summer and you have the audacity to talk about your glamorous international travels as if you were commenting on the weather.” Still, she grinned at him, hoping he would accept her teasing rather than take offense. 

“Have you heard the rumor about the new professor that’s been hired? Supposedly, they’re taking over Potions, not Defense Against the Dark Arts. Queer, isn’t it?”

even  the  most  exciting  experiences  lose  their  novelty  when  they  are  presented  with  the  drabness  of  constancy,  when  conversation  dresses  them  in  tones  saturated  with  beige,  black,  white.  therefore,  when  he  relates  his  travels  of  the  summer  -  excitement  has  drained  away  from  his  recollection.  

that  isn’t  to  say,  of  course,  that  excitement  is  wasted  on  him.  its euphoric  adrenaline  is  something  of  a  hidden  addiction,  disguised  ( beautifully )  in  the  relentless clench  of  his  jaw   — he  is  always  ready  for  another  hit. although . . . he  does  not  crave  the  adrenaline  itself,  for  its  correlating  impulse  repels  him,  repulses  him.  surely   (  i / you / they )  can  do  better  than  to  cater  to  something  so  transient  as impulse ?

“  i  hope,  for  your  sake,  that  the  vineyard’s  harvest  creates  worthwhile  drink  -  “  comes  the  murmured  response.  he  doesn’t  smile  back,  but  the  mildness of  his  response  reflects  tolerance  of  her  humor.

“ —— yeah.  i  heard  the  rumor.  it’s  queer,  but  not  surprising.  if  dumbledore  finally let  professor  snape  have  the  defense  against  the  dark  arts  position,  it might  be  easier  to  find  a  new  potions  master,  wouldn’t  it ?  of  course,  the  rumor  isn’t  confirmed  yet.  “

[arrogantex-blog]

❝ it feels good to be alone with you. ❞

he  likes  to  be  informed.  eyes  dance  blandly  over  ink-stained  pages  of  the  evening  edition  of  the  daily  prophet,  soaking  in  the  information  he  wants  on  principle  &  frowning  as  he  finds  himself  increasingly  disinterested in  the  content.  so  &   so  was  married  to  whomever,  &  some  old  hag  died   — the  minister  was  boasting  high  arrest  rates  given  these  trying  times.  maybe  that  was  interesting.  

words  breathed  with  a  tone  paradoxically  both  theatrical  &  genuine  break  the  silence.  his  fingers  smooth  over  the  pages  of  the  paper,  &  he  finds  himself  folding  it  once  . . .  twice  until  he  can  drop  it  cleanly  onto  the  table  just  before  the  couch.  something  like  a  smile  tilts  at  his  lips  as  he adjusts  himself,  settling  his  back  against  the  arm  of  the  couch  &  chancing  to  examine  the  speaker.  

from  its  home  in  the  hearth,  the  fire  presses  hard  against  the  heavy  cloth  of  his  robes,  creates  an  environment  almost  uncomfortably  warm --  compensation  for  how  cold  the  common  room  may  become  in the  evening.  an  orange  glow  emits  from  the  fire,  too,  &  drapes  itself  over  the  pale  skin  of  his  house mate.  it  makes  him  look  warmer .  .  . but  perhaps  that’s  too obvious  an  observation.  

“ — why’s  that ?   think  i’ll  give  you  an  easier  time  about  shutting  up  &   listening  to  you   than  every  one  else ?   “ the comment  prods  gently  with  well  intended  humor.  he  shrugs  &  shifts,  searching  for  more  comfort  in  his  seating  position.  “  dream  on,  draco.  nice  of  you  to  say,  though.  keep  it  up,  &  i  might  be  able  to  say  the  same  of  you. “  

the  smile  escapes  him  in  full,  although  he  soon chooses  to  hide  it  as  he  reaches  to  unfold  his  paper  once more.  

                                          |    HOZIER  SONG  LYRICS  :  open

[arrogantex-blog]

&. kingkeeper

THIS IS WHERE YOU CHOOSE YOUR SIDES .     whilst not on   friendly   terms with harry   ,   can’t help but to be still   protective   of his best mate .     does not turn his head toward harry when   passing   him in the halls   ,   lips pressed in a   PERMANENT SCOWL .     does not attempt to make   amends .     (   jealousy !     the ultimate flaw to end friendships .     )     bright green badges flashing from all directions   unnerve   him   ,   icy glares directed at slytherins walking past .     (   fucking cocks .     that’s all they are .   )     hard shoulder bump with passing   student   ,   whirling to see zabini there .       ❛      OI !  quit wearing those badges   ,   zabini   ,   they look really stupid .      ❜    

THIS  IS  WHERE  YOU  CHOOSE  YOUR  SIDES ?  hufflepuff  verses  gryffindor …  within  a  larger  competition  for  eternal  glory  ?   HA. it’s  a  stupid  game,  he  thinks.  of  course,  such  a   thought  does  not  exclude  him  from  partaking  —  excitement  burns  in  his  veins  as  he  collects  the opportunity  to  witness  some  tournament  so  HISTORIC.  even so  …  the  tournament  proves  itself  insignificant  to  him  during  ordinary  days  (  time  churns  on,  doesn’t  it ?  ) ,  &  he  has   almost  succeeded  in  tuning  out  repetitive  reminders  of  the  competition;  he  has  almost  succeeded  in  ignoring  the  flash  of green  &  red  letters  that  decorate  so  many  students’  robes.  

of  course,  weasley  had  to  remind  him,  &  frankly  — he  was  right.  they were  stupid  to  look  at.  he  steps  backwards  two  steps,  straightening  his  robes  after  their  slight  collision.  it  happens.  a  poorly  disguised  expression  of  disdain  curls  his  lip  as  he  surveys  the  other.  

“   —  what,  weasley ?  don’t  you  think  they  compliment  my  eyes ?  you’re  not  really  one  to  judge  what  looks  stupid, anyway … are you ?   “   a   bark  of  laughter  almost  escapes  him,   but  he  refrains.   &  as  he  congratulates  himself  on  this  display  of  self-control,  he ruins it  — lets  slip  uninvited &  bitter words :  “ can’t  take  it  off  anyway.  lost  a  damn  bet  after  i  said  they  were  ugly.   “

[arrogantex-blog]

Keith Powers photographed by Mario Kroes

[arrogantex-blog]

❝ there's an art to life's distractions. ❞

IS  THERE ? this  he  considers  with  a  tilt  of  his head,  angling  his  head  towards  her  in  a  show  of  rapt   attention.  you  have  a  way  with  words,  greengrass,  he  almost  says,   almost  dismisses  her  comment . . . but  he  doesn’t;  instead,  invasive  memories  remind  him  of  owls  received  like  clockwork:  once,  twice,  trice —  four  times  a  year  come  letters  penned  by  his  uncle  ( his  father’s  brother,  related  by  blood ).

SOMETIMES blaise  replies.  sometimes  he  doesn’t.  related  by  blood,  but  hardly  family;  certainly  the  feeling  is  mutual.  after  all,  nothing  interesting  loiters  in  letters  about  daily  activities,  about  the  passing  of  gold,  about  some  of  his  father’s  past  proclivities.  periodically  his  uncle’s  pen references  blaise’s  own  travels —  recorded  &  read  in  various tabloids  following  the  exploits  of  the  zabini  family,  of  his  mother.

SOMETIMES  with  these  references  &  with  some  jealousy ( ? ) &  with  some  concealed  criticism ( ? ),  his  uncle  would  wonder  if  blaise  found  that  traveling  built  character — &  later,  he  would  wonder  if  blaise  were  as  shallow  as  his  mother,  if  he  distracted  himself from really living (  as  his  uncle  called  it  ) by collecting experiences like trinkets.  what  an  isolated  perspective. 

his fingers beat slight percussion against the cushion of his armchair; the dancing glow of the fire draws in his gaze, & he studies it for what seems five minutes of silence. he glances up, smiles.

“ —— you know from experience, greengrass, or are you talking about me ? if there is an art, i wouldn’t mind learning it. “

                                          |    HOZIER  SONG  LYRICS  :  open

[arrogantex-blog]

“Forgive me my nonsense., as I also forgive the nonsense of those that think they talk sense.”

he  curses  himself  for  having loitered  in  the  greenhouse  for a  few  minutes  too  long —  the  traffic  of  students  storing   &   restraining  their  pots  of  bouncing bulbs  had  seemed   distasteful  to  him …  &  so  he  had  waited,  leaning  against  a  grimy  window  that  glowed  with  sunlight  &  felt  comfortably  warm  against  his  back.  he  had  waited,  grinding  the  toe  of  his  shoe  into  the  dirt  floor.  it  wasn’t  entertaining,  but  it  was  something.

 when  the  greenhouse  had  decongested  (  FINALLY  )  &  when  he  finds  himself  struggling  to  put  the  pot   away  —  internal  swears  flood  his  mind,  drowning  out  external  sound  &  proposing  aimless  questions  regarding  the  usefulness  of  taking  herbology  anyway …  &  then  he  hears  her -  speaking  as  though  she’s   been  speaking  for  years;  he’s  unabashed  to  realize  he  hadn’t  heard  her  until  now.

so  he  turns  to  face  her,  stripping  the  protective  gloves  off  his  hands  with  quick,  irritable  motions.  vaguely,  he  wonders  if  he  has  any  dirt  on  his  face.  as  he  dismisses  the  thought  &  hopes  that  his  face  was  clean — a  sneer  of  absent  acrid  amusement  twists  his  lips.

     “ — you  speak  like  you’re  a  saint  of  some  sort.  that’s  nonsense  for  you. “

hands  thrust  into his  pockets,  &  he  hastens  to  make  his  exit.

                   |   ROBERT FROST PROMPT: open

[arrogantex-blog]

HOZIER  LYRIC  MEME: PT. ONE

a  compilation  of  various  lyrics  from  my  Lord  and  Savior,  HOZIER.

TAKE  ME  TO  CHURCH:

❝ every  sunday's  getting  more  bleak. ❞

❝  we  were  born  sick,  you  heard  them  say  it. ❞

❝  the  only  heaven  i’ll  be  sent  to,  is  when  i’m  alone  with  you. ❞

❝  i’ll  tell  you  my  sins  and  you  can  sharpen  your  knife. ❞

❝  to  keep  the  goddess  on  my  side,  she  demands  a  sacrifice. ❞

❝  that’s  a  fine  looking  high  horse. ❞

❝  we've  a lot  of  starving  faithful. ❞

❝  no  masters  or  kings  when  the  ritual  begins. ❞

❝  there  is  no  sweeter  innocence  than  our  gentle  sin. ❞

ANGEL  OF  SMALL  DEATH  AND  THE  CODEINE  SCENE:

❝  toying  somewhere  between  love  and  abuse. ❞

❝  shaking  the  wings  of  their  terrible  youths. ❞

❝  no  more  alone  or  myself  could  i  be. ❞

❝  bloody  and  raw,  but  i  swear  it  is  sweet. ❞

❝  and  lease  this  confusion,  i'll  wander  the  concrete. ❞

JACKIE  AND  WILSON:

❝  so  tired  trying  to  see  from  behind  the  red  inj my  eyes. ❞

❝  no  better  version  of  me  i  could  pretend  to  be  tonight. ❞

❝  'cause  with  my  mid-youth  crisis  all  said  and  done,  i  need  to  be  youthfully  felt.  ❞

❝ we'll  steal  her  Lexus,  be  detectives,  ride  round  pickin'  up  clues.  ❞

❝  lord  it'd  be  great  to  find  a  place  we  could  escape  sometime.  ❞

❝ every  version  of  me  dead  and  buried  in  the  yard  outside. ❞

SOMEONE  NEW:

❝  you  knew  who  i  was  with  every  step  that  i  ran  to  you. ❞

❝  would  things  be  easier  if  there  was  a  right  way ?  ❞

❝  honey,  there  is  no  right  way. ❞

❝  there's  an  art  to  life's  distractions. ❞

❝  some  like  to  imagine  the  dark  caress  of  someone  else. ❞

❝  i  guess  any  thrill  will  do. ❞

❝  the  stranger  the  better.  ❞

TO  BE  ALONE:

❝  never  felt  too  good  in  crowds. ❞

❝  all  i've  ever  done  is  hide  from  our  times. ❞

❝  but  you  don't  know  what  hell  you  put  me  through. ❞

❝  it  feels  good  to  be  alone  with  you. ❞

❝  there  are  questions  i  can't  ask. ❞ 

❝  we  should  run  away. ❞

FROM  EDEN.

❝  there's  something  tragic  about  you.  ❞ 

❝  there's  something  lonesome  about  you.  ❞

❝  get  closer  to  me. ❞

❝  idealism  sits  prison,  chivalry  fell  on  it's  sword. ❞

❝  innocence  died  screaming,  honey  ask  me,  i  should  know. ❞

❝  babe,  there's  something  wretched  about  this. ❞

❝  oh,  what  a  sin. ❞ 

SEDATED:

❝  just  a  little  rush  babe. ❞

❝  to  feel  dizzy,  to  derail  the  mind  of  me. ❞

❝  you  and  i  nursing  on  a  poison  that  never  stung. ❞

❝  something  isn’t  right. ❞

❝  i  keep  catching  little  words,  but  the  meanings  thin. ❞

❝  we're  slaves  to  any  semblance  of  touch. ❞

❝  darlin’, don't  you  stand there watching. ❞

❝  free  and  young, and  we  can  feel  none  of  it. ❞

WORK  SONG:

❝  is  that  the  kind'a  way  to  face  the  burning  heat ?  ❞ 

❝  she/he/you  give  me  toothaches  just  from  kissin'  me. ❞

❝  no  grave  can  hold  my  body  down. ❞

❝  i  was  three  days  on  a  drunken  sin. ❞

❝  heaven  and  hell  were  words  to  me . ❞

LIKE  REAL  PEOPLE  DO:

❝  i  had  a  thought,  dear. ❞

❝  why  were  you  digging  ?  ❞

❝  what  did  you  bury  ?  ❞

❝  honey,  just  put  your  sweet  lips  on  my  lips.  ❞

❝  i  could  not  ask  you  where  you  came  from.  ❞

❝  we  should  just  kiss  like  real  people do.  ❞

IT  WILL  COME  BACK:

❝  you  know  better  than  to  look  at  me  like  that. ❞ 

❝  you  know  better  than  to  talk  to  me  like  that.  ❞

❝  don’t  give  it  a  hand,  offer  it  a  soul. ❞

❝  jesus  christ,  don’t  be  kind  to  me.  ❞

❝  don’t  let  me  in  with  no  intention  to  keep  me.  ❞

❝  you  don’t  understand. ❞

❝  honey,  don’t  feed  me,  i  will  come  back.  ❞

❝  that’s  a  kindness  you  can’t  avoid.  ❞

❝  give  me  mercy.  ❞

❝  you’ll  hear  me  howling  outside  your  door.  ❞

[arrogantex-blog]

I am not arrogant. I simply know my place. It’s quite far above yours.

[arrogantex-blog]

HOZIER  LYRIC  MEME: PT. ONE

a  compilation  of  various  lyrics  from  my  Lord  and  Savior,  HOZIER.

TAKE  ME  TO  CHURCH:

❝ every  sunday's  getting  more  bleak. ❞

❝  we  were  born  sick,  you  heard  them  say  it. ❞

❝  the  only  heaven  i’ll  be  sent  to,  is  when  i’m  alone  with  you. ❞

❝  i’ll  tell  you  my  sins  and  you  can  sharpen  your  knife. ❞

❝  to  keep  the  goddess  on  my  side,  she  demands  a  sacrifice. ❞

❝  that’s  a  fine  looking  high  horse. ❞

❝  we've  a lot  of  starving  faithful. ❞

❝  no  masters  or  kings  when  the  ritual  begins. ❞

❝  there  is  no  sweeter  innocence  than  our  gentle  sin. ❞

ANGEL  OF  SMALL  DEATH  AND  THE  CODEINE  SCENE:

❝  toying  somewhere  between  love  and  abuse. ❞

❝  shaking  the  wings  of  their  terrible  youths. ❞

❝  no  more  alone  or  myself  could  i  be. ❞

❝  bloody  and  raw,  but  i  swear  it  is  sweet. ❞

❝  and  lease  this  confusion,  i'll  wander  the  concrete. ❞

JACKIE  AND  WILSON:

❝  so  tired  trying  to  see  from  behind  the  red  inj my  eyes. ❞

❝  no  better  version  of  me  i  could  pretend  to  be  tonight. ❞

❝  'cause  with  my  mid-youth  crisis  all  said  and  done,  i  need  to  be  youthfully  felt.  ❞

❝ we'll  steal  her  Lexus,  be  detectives,  ride  round  pickin'  up  clues.  ❞

❝  lord  it'd  be  great  to  find  a  place  we  could  escape  sometime.  ❞

❝ every  version  of  me  dead  and  buried  in  the  yard  outside. ❞

SOMEONE  NEW:

❝  you  knew  who  i  was  with  every  step  that  i  ran  to  you. ❞

❝  would  things  be  easier  if  there  was  a  right  way ?  ❞

❝  honey,  there  is  no  right  way. ❞

❝  there's  an  art  to  life's  distractions. ❞

❝  some  like  to  imagine  the  dark  caress  of  someone  else. ❞

❝  i  guess  any  thrill  will  do. ❞

❝  the  stranger  the  better.  ❞

TO  BE  ALONE:

❝  never  felt  too  good  in  crowds. ❞

❝  all  i've  ever  done  is  hide  from  our  times. ❞

❝  but  you  don't  know  what  hell  you  put  me  through. ❞

❝  it  feels  good  to  be  alone  with  you. ❞

❝  there  are  questions  i  can't  ask. ❞ 

❝  we  should  run  away. ❞

FROM  EDEN.

❝  there's  something  tragic  about  you.  ❞ 

❝  there's  something  lonesome  about  you.  ❞

❝  get  closer  to  me. ❞

❝  idealism  sits  prison,  chivalry  fell  on  it's  sword. ❞

❝  innocence  died  screaming,  honey  ask  me,  i  should  know. ❞

❝  babe,  there's  something  wretched  about  this. ❞

❝  oh,  what  a  sin. ❞ 

SEDATED:

❝  just  a  little  rush  babe. ❞

❝  to  feel  dizzy,  to  derail  the  mind  of  me. ❞

❝  you  and  i  nursing  on  a  poison  that  never  stung. ❞

❝  something  isn’t  right. ❞

❝  i  keep  catching  little  words,  but  the  meanings  thin. ❞

❝  we're  slaves  to  any  semblance  of  touch. ❞

❝  darlin’, don't  you  stand there watching. ❞

❝  free  and  young, and  we  can  feel  none  of  it. ❞

WORK  SONG:

❝  is  that  the  kind'a  way  to  face  the  burning  heat ?  ❞ 

❝  she/he/you  give  me  toothaches  just  from  kissin'  me. ❞

❝  no  grave  can  hold  my  body  down. ❞

❝  i  was  three  days  on  a  drunken  sin. ❞

❝  heaven  and  hell  were  words  to  me . ❞

LIKE  REAL  PEOPLE  DO:

❝  i  had  a  thought,  dear. ❞

❝  why  were  you  digging  ?  ❞

❝  what  did  you  bury  ?  ❞

❝  honey,  just  put  your  sweet  lips  on  my  lips.  ❞

❝  i  could  not  ask  you  where  you  came  from.  ❞

❝  we  should  just  kiss  like  real  people do.  ❞

IT  WILL  COME  BACK:

❝  you  know  better  than  to  look  at  me  like  that. ❞ 

❝  you  know  better  than  to  talk  to  me  like  that.  ❞

❝  don’t  give  it  a  hand,  offer  it  a  soul. ❞

❝  jesus  christ,  don’t  be  kind  to  me.  ❞

❝  don’t  let  me  in  with  no  intention  to  keep  me.  ❞

❝  you  don’t  understand. ❞

❝  honey,  don’t  feed  me,  i  will  come  back.  ❞

❝  that’s  a  kindness  you  can’t  avoid.  ❞

❝  give  me  mercy.  ❞

❝  you’ll  hear  me  howling  outside  your  door.  ❞

[arrogantex-blog]

au where i actually finish my drafts

[arrogantex-blog]

blaise zabini is here for that gossip, for that drama; apparently, he’s ready to know whom harry potter is nearly strangling in the middle of the three broomsticks. do not kid yourselves blaise zabini is 100% eavesdropping & pretending he does not give a shit -- apparently on his own, too. “lolling against a pillar” is such a posed sounding position too - i’m telling you blaise zabini is enjoying some time alone, some self-care; the only shenanigans he wants are from afar

[arrogantex-blog]

Blaise seemed to be a highly arrogant person, who looked down on nearly everyone and everything.

[arrogantex-blog]

&. dracmal

DRACO’S HANDS CLENCH TIGHT against the cold metal railing of the astronomy tower. He doesn’t need to turn around to recognize Blaise’s voice. && he’s unsure whether it’s PANIC or     r a g e   that hits first.

‘YOU KNOW WHAT THEY’RE SAYING ABOUT YOU.’

It’s a statement. Blaise KNOWS Draco’s heard the rumors. How could he have not? When the misconstrued words of the student body pointed DIRECTLY TO HIM.

There’s sweat beading at his forehead. And he’s only clutching the railing to keep himself from jumping over it toward his UNTIMELY –but deserved,  d e a t h.

He’s rocking his body back and forth. It’s SUBTLE, but he needed some sort of movement to distract from how violently his hands shook.

He never turns to face Blaise. And it’s only minutes after the others arrival that he finally speaks. When he does, his tone is as cold and gritting as if they had been uttered from the Dark Lord himself.

“…well, B L A I S E  ? ? ” He starts, taking a pause to catch a shaky breath. “…do you BELIEVE THEM ? ? ”

the  fact  that  he  is  here,  hearing  this  response  &  enduring  the  piercing  wind  that  often  comes  with  heights all imply  he  does  believe  them . . .  doesn’t  it?  he  shifts  weight  between  his  legs  &  sucks  in  his  cheek between  his  teeth  ( slightly )  so  that  he  might  remind  himself  to  think  before  speaking,  to  pay  careful mind  to  everything  coating  his  response. 

so  he  answers  in  a  moment  of  silence  &  a  raised  brow   --  noting  how  restlessness  envelopes  the  other  like  a  cloud  of  gnats  &  buzzes :  bringing  uncertain  motion  to  rocking  feet  &  to  trembling  hands.   blaise  finds  this  instability  unnerving,  concerning . . .  he  purses  his  lips  against  the  wind   &  shifts  again,  slipping  his  hand  (  discreetly  )  into  the  pocket  of  his  robe  so  that  he  might  retrieve  his  wand   &   -  might  what  ?  he  just  doesn’t  want  to  risk  it   --- there’s  no  need  for  the  dramatics,  he  tells  himself. 

&  so  come  absent  thoughts  of  his  progress  in  professor  snape’s  class,  in  professor mcgonagall’s  --- since  the  introduction  of  nonverbal  spells, expectations  of  their  performance   had  become  increasingly  frequent;  like  the  rest  of  his  peers,  he  still  found  himself  struggling  somewhat  to succeed in  casting  spells  nonverbally  without  practice.  BUT - he  had  become  more  consistent  in  past  few  weeks.  silence  plagues  him  a  moment  more;  his  wand  remains  hidden  by  the  night . . . &  by the folds  of  his  robe.  

          “   it   wouldn’t  surprise  me.  not  at  the  rate  you’ve  been  going   ----  “  he  muses  aloud  slowly.   a  slight  movement  brings  his  wand  up  slightly  ( DISCREETLY )  to  aim  &  he  thinks  :   petrificus  totalus. 

a  temporary  measure.  “ a  precaution,”  he  would  say  aloud, raising  his  wand  further  to  cast  a  following  disarming  charm .  .  .  &  to  cast  mobilicorpus  just  long  enough  to  drift  the  other’s  body   to  the  wall  bordering  the  door.  

so  he   speaks  pleasantly,  with  a  voice  dressed  in  velvet,  &  makes  the  excuse :  “ the  wind  was  a  bit  too  loud  from  where  you  stood.  “  he  lifts  the  binding  curse  &  straightens  idly  --- but  does  not  stow  his  wand.  

[arrogantex-blog]

here are some things i do to keep muse for a character, or keep as reference to look back on to reignite it:

keep an aesthetic sideblog - i dump most of my musings there, it’s kind in character blogging, as if the character was running it without personal posts, more or less. i’ve even had cool popular aes bloggers follow it back! i make sure to state that it is a sideblog for a muse and turn off asks/make an info page so people don’t think the blog is for a real person. 

make playlists - if i hear a song on my shuffle that i think fits them, i add it to a seasonal playlist; big playlists can become hard to manage so i make about 4 a year because that is usually enough time to grasp what changes have been made in characterization.

watch some of the movies they might like, even if it’s not something you are personally interested in - you might learn something new, find you enjoy a new genre, or find new inspiration uniquely tied to this muse because you have no personal attachment to it. my muse likes french films, and i would have never had an interest in french movies if i didn’t have this muse, yet i enjoyed many of the films i watched. 

plan a week of meals - figure out 7 days of meals. do they skip breakfast? do they cook or order take out or hit the drive in a 3am? do they grow their own basil and cilantro? do they cook it themselves or have a spouse or children that cook for them because they are at work? toaster oven or microwave? this sounds boring, but it can help you and others better understand how this person operates by doing something as simple as eating.

do some text message threads / ask memes - these are very simple and can be done in a short period of time, yet can tell others a lot about your muse. do they use emojis, peck like a grandma, upgrade their phone every year even if they can’t afford it? 

make a family tree - this one depends on the muse, but i find it fun to create npcs for my muses even if no one ever reads what i have created. the tree can be used to figure out what kind of relationships your muse formed early in their life and how it affects their relationships with non-family members as they grow older. 

[arrogantex-blog]

&. rcsethcrn

“Boring people visit exciting places all the time,” she reminded him, not the least bit phased by his word games. She paused for a moment and began to blow a bubble with the gum. With a wave of her wand, the little pink bubble separated and began to shift as it floated into the air before them. Soon enough, a plump pink rabbit began to bounce its way about the compartment, following the the lazy flick of Margaery’s wand.

 Another bubble formed on her lips and began to elongate when it joined the other and soon a bright pink snake was slithering through the air in pursuit of the rabbit. It coiled itself around its prey and squeezed until they both burst with a little ‘pop.’ Satisfied with her work, she turned back to Blaise. 

“Come on, now. Indulge me.”

a  part  of  him  resents  the  accusation  ---  that  she  should  threaten  him   with  the  label :  boring.  most  of  him,  however,  recognizes  provocative  irony  in  the  accusation;  incessant  condescension  projects  onto  his  environment a grey & dreary  image.  he  settles  to  let   a  ghosting  breath  of  laughter  escape  his  lips  &  settles to  follow  the  bubbles’  wildlife  adventure  meandering along  the  compartment.  

absently  he draws  his  wand  &  aligns  it  with  the  straight  seam  of  his  trousers.  with  finger  curled  around  its  handle,  angling  the  wand  up  minutely  so  that  he  might  follow  the  bubbles  ---  if  the  snake  hadn’t ended  the  spectacle,  then  he   planned  to  end  it  himself.  of  course,  he  was  relieved  of  this  duty  &  consequently  lets  his  drop to  his  thigh.   “  i  hope  you  can  give  a  more  persuasive  argument  than  that --  i  traveled,  certainly. met  some  characters  in  cairo,  thought  of  investing  in shop  in  moscow  hoping  to  specialize  in  translator’s  spells.  traveled  for  a  national  qudditch  competition  in  bulgaria ,  courtesy  of  an  editor  who  loved  interviewing  my  mother  in  may.  “   his  brow arches.   “   be  satisfied.  “