REBEL REBEL.

⧼   john boyega, cis man, he/him   /   the revolution will not be televised by gill scot heron + laughing to feel alive yet speaking up to stay alive, a restless feeling that demands more more more, crying tears from laughter, honesty as your native tongue, scuffed sneakers and jean jackets, playing your dad’s records, a cheeky grin, the powerlessness that comes with grief.   ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that LEE JORDAN? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the TWENTY SEVEN year old halfblood WIZARD is a GRYFFINDOR alumnus who has gone on to be a INVESTIGATIVE RADIO JOURNALIST. i’ve heard they can be quite FORTHRIGHT & CAPTIVATING, but i don’t know… they came off very IRREVERENT & HEEDLESS in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?  

What is your muse better at than most people?

Running his mouth. I mean, can that be considered a talent? I think it should be. Lee can literally talk himself out of most situations, but mostly is just very captivating. I think being able to tell stories well is a pretty neat skill to have, especially when you work in the field of journalism? So yeah, that’s something Lee’s good at: quick on his feet, entertaining, engaging ... moving, if he wants to be. Just imagine his speech at Fred’s funeral: it was both hilarious and heart wrenching, I can assure you that.

What superpower has your muse always dreamed of having, and would they use it for good or evil?

Send a constellation and I'll answer the question attached to it.

Andromeda: What is your muse's favorite name, and what would they name a potential child/pet?

Big Dipper: If your muse had the opportunity to ruin the life of their worst enemy, would they take it?

Cassiopeia: What is a song that your muse can't stand to hear when it comes on the radio?

Delphinus: If your muse could go on a date with any celebrity (or otherwise famous person in their world), who would it be and why?

Eridanus: What is the worst experience your muse has had with a so-called friend?

Fornax: What food could your muse eat for the rest of their life, and what's one they would never touch again?

Grus: If your muse were to be injured in an accident or mishap, would they develop a fear of what caused it or be able to brush it off and try again?

Hydra: What is your muse better at than most people?

Indus: If your muse became the president or ruler of their country, what would they do first?

Lepus: What's something your muse is sure only they or just a handful of people know about?

Mensa: How smart is your muse compared to an average individual in terms of academic knowledge?

Norma: What superpower has your muse always dreamed of having, and would they use it for good or evil?

Orion's Belt: If your muse had the ability to write a guaranteed hit song, what or who would it be about?

Pyxis: How often does your muse take a shower, and how much of an effort do they put into their appearance every day?

Sagitta: If your muse could own any pet, exotic or not, what would they choose?

Tucana: Does your muse have any life goals that are obviously out of reach or will never be achieved, and what are they?

“Oh, that’s just what I needed,” grumbled Lee as he watched dark coffee spread over his T-shirt, wincing slightly at the heat. Today was a bad day. Well, it was a bad week, or months really, but today the world just seemed out to get him particularly. His coffee ( which he needed quite desperately ) spilling was just the cherry on top of a rather shitty milkshake. As the hot fluid seared his skin, he raised his voice as he cursed, “Morgana’s saggy tits.” And then, Lee was occupied attempting to hold the rest of his coffee with one hand, while scrambling for his wand to cast a drying charm. A few more cursewords slipped from his lips, a waterfall of profanity like, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He wished he had three hands. Or a thousand, perhaps, though that might look a little odd. Trying to see if there was a table or something around where he could place his coffee, he let his gaze fly up, and found himself making eye contact with someone who’d most definitely overheard him. “Aye, er - shit. Sorry, pardon my French.”

open starter. her mother’s shop. diagon alley.

“Could you grab those over there, please?” Knox pointed to a crate of stored Gillyweed. It just arrived today and Knox was more than excited to study them after she closes up. “Oh and do be careful with them, you know my mother, she’ll have my head if we screwed this up.” Having help with the new arrivals was strictly against her mother’s wishes. Perhaps she was too proud or maybe she just didn’t want to be pitied by the people that turned against her. Knox had no clue but what choice did she have at this point? “We speak nothing of this, or else she’ll somehow hear about it— I swear she has ears of a werewolf.”