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 Posted: Fri Aug 18, 2017 8:57 pm
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Posted: Wed Aug 23, 2017 7:12 pm
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Posted: Wed Aug 23, 2017 8:58 pm
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I wanna be a billionaire so ******** bad
Buy all of the things I never had
Uh, I wanna be on the cover of Forbes magazine
Smiling next to Oprah and the Queen
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Fᴏᴜʀᴛʜ Yᴇᴀʀ || Gʀʏғғɪɴᴅᴏʀ || Hᴀʟғʙʟᴏᴏᴅ
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Darrell was tempted to moonwalk into the Great Hall, but refrained from doing so. Not that it wasn't appropriate for his costume, but he didn't want to be labelled a giant nerd. Well, more of one than he was for being on the newspaper. Though, he figured his costume was completely appropriate. His mum had been a big Michael Jackson fan, and she had been quite helpful in getting the things he'd need for it, even including the wig. He just didn't want to do jheri curls to his own hair. Nevertheless, he strutted into the Great Hall instead, thinking that he might as well grab something to drink while waiting for some of his friends to show up. Clara was bound to show up sometime, and that didn't include anyone else.
Which, speaking of friends, there was Alana. Hadn't she and her group of friends had a big blowup earlier in the year? He was quite positive that was the case, and he made his way over, convinced that at least he could try to be friendly and cheer her up. She definitely looked good in her costume, and he waved as he came over. "Hey Alana. How's everything going? Where's the others?" He immediately winced as soon as he said it, and then decided to change the topic. Maybe she didn't want to talk about it. "Or um, well, nice costume. I didn't mean to upset you or anything."
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Oh every time I close my eyes
I see my name in shining lights, yeah
A different city every night, oh I
I swear the world better prepare
For when I'm a billionaire
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Posted: Sat Aug 26, 2017 12:28 pm
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The Forgotten Weasley Crew
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Posted: Wed Aug 30, 2017 7:36 am
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It's not simple to say
Most days I don't recognize me
It's not easy to know
I'm not anything like I used to be
Although it's true
I was never attention's sweet center
I still remember that girl
𝚕𝚢𝚍𝚒𝚊
𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎
𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛
muggleborn │ fourth year │ hufflepuff
Liddie methodically swirled her punch around in the goblet, pursing her lips and trying not to look too irritated at the same time. If she looked upset, someone might come over and ask her what was wrong, and that was the last thing she needed right now. Trying to explain one of her and Mark's squabbles would be like trying to describe a nasty wreck. It was hard to understand, unless you were there the whole time. She was so irked with him, however, that she had half a mind to go hunt down Chrys and Chance and the rest of them, even Byuch, the little jerk, because obviously that would be better than sitting around here.
But this was supposed to be their first 'thing' as a couple, so she and Mark had both agreed to not force either to endure the other's friend group. Mark found her friends annoying and immature, which she supposed made sense, since he was two years older, although he'd never said anything directly critical of them to her face. She could just tell when he was annoyed by now. And his friends... Liddie felt like such a wallflower around them. They were older and louder and all had equally older and louder girlfriends, and all of them seemed to regard her as a funny little curiosity that Mark had picked up at a flea market. He didn't understand 'what her problem' with them was, but she didn't understand what his deal was with her friends, either, so she supposed they were even.
"Hey." He had returned, equipped with cookies. They were in the shape of black cats, like her outfit.
Liddie smiled and rolled her eyes a little in spite of herself, and scooted over to let him sit, then wrinkled her nose. "You smell like alcohol."
"Simon smuggled in some fire-whiskey in Della's purse. I needed liquid courage to face my terrifying, clawed girlfriend." As usual, his tone jumped evenly from mocking to gentle teasing.
"You're the one who got angry," she muttered, but rested her head on his shoulder. He was (supposedly) dressed as a scarecrow, but it seemed more like a faded flannel and jeans.
"I was just ticked off," he said dismissively. "You've never seen me properly mad."
"Ooh, scary," Liddie teased, and then pouted at the look on his face, snatching up a cookie. "Oh, come on, let's go do something. Like the maze! Or the haunted house!"
"We're not twelve." Mark rolled his eyes, but got up, pulling her to her feet as well. "We can go in the maze if you let me snog you- and I mean really, not those little pecks."
Liddie flushed pink, even under her makeup. "Maybe. If no one's gawking."
She's imperfect, but she tries
She is good, but she lies
She is hard on herself
She is broken and won't ask for help
She is messy, but she's kind
She is lonely most of the time
She is gone, but she used to be mine
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