Much more than muses

Bio and Personality

Audrey II LeFou Cornelius  Hux  Ivy Dolly Walter (Also - add to muse page) Waylon Joker Mr. Freeze.

Personality

Dandy Eileen Edyth Anne Eric Harley Guy Hector Alejandra Luca Leo Hilda Phil

Make less... (You just gestured to all of me)

My plan is to complete bios for all my current muses - even if it’s just something rough, to give a vague idea - and then to ease back into writing again, but capping the number of threads I will do, as I currently let them spiral.

       Heals click across the aged wood floor,        manicured fingers resting on ruby lips.        Many terrible ideas had crossed Jolene’s         mind at one time or another in her short life,        but this by far was the worst.

       Deceit, deception – it’d brought her here.         To the vipers den. Surrounded by death        eaters – her blood status a ruse. Fraud,        chicanery, infidelity – L I E S. Her only true        talent had cursed her.

       A fair arm came to rest across her stomach        – pacing ceased. Icicles on her spine cracked,        and filled her body with splinters of frost        – second thoughts. She couldn’t do this.        She should throw her heals by the door, and        drape her dress across the chair. She should              lay on the bed – retreat to the rushed whispers        and curses, to the sweat, and pools of igneous        need, to the lies.

       Foot steps resonate from the hall. The door        knob turned, sticking slightly as it always did,        before the wood gave way. 

       Her hand – thin and delicate, fell to her side.

       His smile. The one he reserved just for her.        She savored it.

       Jolene’s teeth grazed across her bottom lip –        chapped canyons drenched in lipstick and ruin.

“ Lucius ”        her voice – snow in April oozing honey held        a small quiver. 

       This had gone on long enough for any foolish        dreams of something more to wither and die        – yet his gaze never ceased to send tremors        of static through her. 

“ You came. “

He likes the way she says his name - likes the sound of her voice - likes the other noises he can get her to make even more. He likes to look at her - she is pale and beautiful, like his wife - but she wraps herself in red and while usually, that was a colour worn by those he hated - she always looks resplendent in it. It reminds him - perhaps subconsciously - of the blood pounding its way through his veins... 

And how she makes his blood pound. 

He does not love her - rather like he does not love Narcissa - but he loves her company and, perhaps naively, he thinks it almost the same. 

“Of course I did.” He says warmly, draping his cloak over a chair, before approaching her, hands slipping around her slim waist with an ease and comfort that would be telling to any outside observer that this is not a fledgeling tryst but something long-lived and well practised. “How could I not?”

He would have to discourage her from getting too used to it after all - on the ladder of priorities, after all, she was nearly the bottom rung... And it would not do to have her growing cold or jealous or even dangerous.

Narcissa, he doubted, would leave were his infidelity uncovered - but it would make their uneasy marriage unbearable and the rest of his life difficult, at least, for some time.

“Same as always, I suppose.” She shrugs, her hair a festive pine green ( if only to annoy Moody, who was still stomping around, grumping about it being the wrong month for celebrations ). “Spend the day with my parents, travel to see what’s left of my dad’s family. I’ll probably eat too much and set something on fire again, too.” Ah, fond memories of Christmas traditions - whether they’d been intentionally started or not. “What about you? Going home to see your family?”

[text @ star]: no problem [text @ star]: seriously ani????? [text @ star]: *sighs* love you too. [text @ star]: need anything else besides bagels while i’m on it?

Hanging onto his words as if they were the gospel, Credence nodded almost eagerly.  He would remember that, of course, even if he didn’t fully understand its meaning at the current moment.  You deserve nothing less.  It almost sounded fake, and he would have thought it so had he not known that Percival wouldn’t lie to him.

“I do want to,” he breathed, just barely managing not to stumble over the words, “And - and I’ll try and remember.”  Credence couldn’t lie - he didn’t know how successful he would be.  He didn’t even know how to start or where to start, re-teaching himself how to think - but he certainly would do what he could.

“Good.” He says softly. The promise to try is better than nothing after all - and Percival realises that for Credence it is probably much easier said than done. After all, how do you combat years of abuse and having your worth stripped away just because someone says you deserve better? It can’t be easy - and while the fact that Credence is alive - surviving despite everything is a credit to his strength and resilience and it gives Percival hope that maybe he’ll be able to do so one day.