THE BREAKFAST CLUB [OPEN]

[style=width: 416px;background-color: #b1b198; color: #989884; font-family: arial black; font-size: 9px; text-align: right; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; padding-top: 3px; letter-spacing: 4px; margin-bottom: -1px;]I DON'T NEED YOUR FUCKING HALO[/style][style=width: 416px;background-color: #b1b198; color: #d4d4b4; text-shadow: #814a4a 1px 1px 0px; font-family: georgia; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 15px; text-align: right; font-weight: bolder; text-indent: 2em; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-bottom: -3px;]can't you see i'm no one's angel[/style]

[atrb=style,border-top: 8px solid #333333; border-bottom: 8px solid #333333; border-left: 3px solid #b1b198; border-right: 3px solid #b1b198;][bg=7b3636][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,420,true][atrb=width,20%][atrb=vAlign,top] [style=width:100px; height: 100px; border: 3px solid #333333; opacity:0.9;filter:alpha(opacity=40); margin-left:3px; background-image: url(http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l11/DevilishSeductress/Ren/0xCsr.jpg); -moz-border-radius-topright: 40px; -moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 40px;] [/style]   [style=width:100px; height: 100px; border: 3px solid #333333; opacity:0.9;filter:alpha(opacity=40); margin-left: 3px; background-image: url(http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l11/DevilishSeductress/Ren/0xCsr.jpg); -moz-border-radius-topright: 40px; -moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 40px;] [/style]  [style=width:100px; height: 100px; border: 3px solid #333333; opacity:0.9;filter:alpha(opacity=40); margin-left: 3px; background-image: url(http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l11/DevilishSeductress/Ren/0xCsr.jpg); -moz-border-radius-topright: 40px; -moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 40px;] [/style] [style=margin-right; 19px; margin-top: -360px; height: 375px; margin-left: 115px; margin-bottom: -5px; overflow:auto; background-color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size: 9px; color: #e1dbc2; padding-top: 16px; padding-bottom: 19px; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 10px; text-align: justify; -moz-border-radius-topleft: 10px; -moz-border-radius-topright: 10px;]Since he was eleven-years-old – just another short deceptively innocent first-year, fresh-faced at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry – Asher had never played nicely with the prefects. Fifth year prefects, sixth year prefects, seventh year prefects, headboys and headgirls. It didn’t matter. The way that they wore their stupid badges so proudly and acted as if they were superior to others had never failed to aggravate Asher, and he would respond by teaching them exactly how wrong they were. For several years he had found satisfaction in defying them, aggravating them, tormenting them. As Asher figured eventually they would understand and leave him alone. It hadn’t happened yet. Which explained why Asher had been sent to the detention chamber. Again. Asher Rousseau being sent to the detention chamber was a weekly occurrence. But it was the first time that he had been sent there on the charges of vandalism and indecent behaviour. Ok. Not really. But he’d never enchanted a toilet into life before. It hadn’t been that difficult really. Sneaking into the prefect’s bathroom, transfiguring the expensive toilet to burst into life as soon as somebody sat their bare cheeks down upon its seat, in which case the unpleasant thing would immediately respond by biting the unsuspecting prefect. And by biting, the toilet seat and lid would snap together. Hard. Asher thought that it was funny. And he still insisted on his brilliant humour even when the spell had been traced back to him, earning him another week’s stint in detention. Apparently he was supposed to feel remorse over having sent a Ravenclaw prefect to the hospital wing with minor fractures and a few missing layers of skin. Guilt wasn’t an emotion that Asher felt that often though. Entering the room calmly, glacial blue eyes made no effort to acknowledge anyone else who might have been sentenced to detention as well. Not even the overseeing professor. Dropping his expensive leather bag on the ground, Asher pulled out a chair near the back of the room, sat himself down and balanced his feet arrogantly on the desk in front of him.[/style]

[style=width: 416px; background-color: #b1b198; margin-top: -3px; color: #212121; font-family: arial; font-size: 9px;] words:: 350 ♠ tagged:: OPEN ♠ notes :: Feel free to join and do whatever [/style][style=font-family: courier new; letter-spacing: 4px; font-size: 10; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;] template by synchronicity[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] Asher Rosseau was a... difficult boy. Marcus looked up from his article and offered a smile as the tall, blonde Seventh Year came into the room, surprisingly punctual for his detention. Well, it wasn't too surprising, actually. Asher had been such a frequent guest of the detention hall that Marcus believed the routine to be deeply engraved in the boy's mind by now. "Mister Rosseau," Marcus greeted as the youth took his seat. "Good morning to you," he said, choosing to be ignorant of Asher's obvious defiance. The corner of his mouth made the tiniest twitch with the teen lifted his legs onto the desk in front of him. Well, that too was typical Asher. Did it bother him that Mister Rosseau insisted on appalling manners that (in Marcus' eyes) shamed him as a pureblood? Yes, it did. Did it bother him that it was one of his own students that Asher had sent to the hospital wing? It certainly did. But Marcus had long learned that playing hard-ball wasn't going to work with this student. Like many children born into wealthy and prestigious families, Asher Rosseau was a boy who did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted and took personal delight in aggravating any form of authority. In a nutshell, to be angered was to fall straight into his game. Many pureblooded students shared Asher's arrogance. It was just a pity Asher didn't share the pride of maintaining one's family's reputation that most of them had. On second thought, perhaps he did. Only the poor lad had the misguided idea that the kid with the largest stick in the neighbourhood commanded the most respect. In any case, that was irrelevant. Asher would learn in his own time what a grave error that was. As it was, Marcus had... other obligations to see to. Namely, seeing the youth pass his N.E.W.Ts Marcus cleared his throat. "Mister Rosseau," he began, his tone light and amiable. "In light of your coming exams, I thought we might use our time together a little more productively this year." He gestured to the pile of half-transfigured objects on his desk. Marcus' smile widened a little. "Given the incident brought you here, I'm sure you will find this well within your capabilities. It takes quite a bit of skill to be able to pull off a prank that elaborate," he continued thoughtfully. Had he just praised a student for his wrong-doing? Well, yes and no. There was nothing appropriate about what Asher had done. But as he mentioned, the ability to sneak into the prefect's bathroom and the spell involved in transfiguring the toilet weren't feats Marcus would expect from the mediocre student Asher had made himself to be. Ironically, the feat itself was one that suited Asher as a pureblood if one viewed the prefects to be those whom Asher considered as enemies (and Marcus had no doubt that he did). No, the boy could be said to be quite gifted, if only he would apply himself in more appropriate ways.

[style=width: 416px;background-color: #b1b198; color: #989884; font-family: arial black; font-size: 9px; text-align: right; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; padding-top: 3px; letter-spacing: 4px; margin-bottom: -1px;]I DON'T NEED YOUR FUCKING HALO[/style][style=width: 416px;background-color: #b1b198; color: #d4d4b4; text-shadow: #814a4a 1px 1px 0px; font-family: georgia; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 15px; text-align: right; font-weight: bolder; text-indent: 2em; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-bottom: -3px;]can't you see i'm no one's angel[/style]

[atrb=style,border-top: 8px solid #333333; border-bottom: 8px solid #333333; border-left: 3px solid #b1b198; border-right: 3px solid #b1b198;][bg=7b3636][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,420,true][atrb=width,20%][atrb=vAlign,top] [style=width:100px; height: 100px; border: 3px solid #333333; opacity:0.9;filter:alpha(opacity=40); margin-left:3px; background-image: url(http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l11/DevilishSeductress/Ren/0xCsr.jpg); -moz-border-radius-topright: 40px; -moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 40px;] [/style]   [style=width:100px; height: 100px; border: 3px solid #333333; opacity:0.9;filter:alpha(opacity=40); margin-left: 3px; background-image: url(http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l11/DevilishSeductress/Ren/0xCsr.jpg); -moz-border-radius-topright: 40px; -moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 40px;] [/style]  [style=width:100px; height: 100px; border: 3px solid #333333; opacity:0.9;filter:alpha(opacity=40); margin-left: 3px; background-image: url(http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l11/DevilishSeductress/Ren/0xCsr.jpg); -moz-border-radius-topright: 40px; -moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 40px;] [/style] [style=margin-right; 19px; margin-top: -360px; height: 375px; margin-left: 115px; margin-bottom: -5px; overflow:auto; background-color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size: 9px; color: #e1dbc2; padding-top: 16px; padding-bottom: 19px; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 10px; text-align: justify; -moz-border-radius-topleft: 10px; -moz-border-radius-topright: 10px;]If there was anything worse than a prefect it was a professor. Just as Asher had come to despise the prefects as a first year, it had been at an early point in his magical education that he had realized that most of Hogwarts’ faculty were hopeless. To be perfectly honest, he learned more about magical practice and theory when he was home in France then he did within the aged castle. And that was something that Asher felt was due to the professors. They looked down on their students, and chose to believe that certain lessons were out-dated and unnecessary to be learned. Asher didn’t consider Dunesworth to be the exception, which explained why the golden-haired lion ignored the professor’s greeting. Choosing instead to turn his glacial stare up at the low ceiling, as if even it offered more interest than the head of Ravenclaw did. What was he going to do about Asher’s attitude? Punish him? Asher was already in detention. Take away house points from Gryffindor? Asher didn’t possess enough team-spirit to actually care whether or not his house won the house-cup at the end of the year – it was only a rusted over-sized goblet and a few crimson banners anyway. Dunesworth couldn’t do anything to Asher. They both knew it. And so false niceties were pointless. The Dunesworths were an old pureblood family and the professor’s pride over his ancestry was common knowledge. Though the Dunesworths didn’t match the Rousseaus in influence, wealth or power, a pureblood’s pride might have offered the two of them something to bond over. But Asher didn’t possess that sort of pride. He took advantage over his cosy position as the Rousseau heir. Everything that Asher owned was blatantly expensive and the spoiled attitude of those who never hear the word “no” was forever obvious in his manner and speech, and should anything become the least bit uncomfortable Asher’s first response was to contact his father. Forever certain that Aramis would “fix” the problem and allow his son to continue his carefree selfish lifestyle. But Asher didn’t feel any pride toward the centuries upon centuries of pure magical blood that ran through his veins. Nor was he interested in the activities of his ancestors or even maintaining the purity of the Rousseau bloodline. Muggles, muggleborns, half-bloods, halfbreeds, purebloods. All those terms were simple titles to Asher. Being filthy rich, reasonably attractive and dominating those who might attempt to try to push him into submission were what made Asher superior to others, was the blond’s opinion. Not that incestuous relationships, racism and honour killings were ripe within his family. At Dunesworth’s voice, Asher reluctantly turned his cold blue eyes onto the professor. Bow-shipped lips frowning in clear displeasure at the professor’s suggestion. After all, this was supposed to be the detention chamber, not the transfiguration classroom. A subject that Asher didn’t even like at the best of times. Dismissing the objects by allowing his gaze to drift elsewhere, Asher shrugged his broad shoulders gracelessly and made no effort to stand. ”You’re wrong, prof. The prank was child’s play for all its brilliancy. But I’m not in the mood to perform in front of you right now. Maybe next week?” To further his point, the tall Gryffindor proceeded to tilt his chair back and closed his eyes, as if he were preparing to doze off. In seven years one would think that the professors would have understood Asher by now. He only participated when he wanted to, a desire that only came about in subjects that he enjoyed. Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures. Sadly, not Transfiguration.[/style]

[style=width: 416px; background-color: #b1b198; margin-top: -3px; color: #212121; font-family: arial; font-size: 9px;] words:: 609 ♠ tagged:: OPEN ♠ notes :: Asher is such a brat [/style][style=font-family: courier new; letter-spacing: 4px; font-size: 10; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;] template by synchronicity[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] There were many things that could be said about Mister Rosseau's reply. Surprising wasn't one of them. As it always did, it puzzled Marcus that the boy seemed to enjoy being in the detention hall. So much so that he had an apparent need to see that he would return each week. Wasn't there anything else the boy would have preferred spending his Saturday mornings on? Or anyone else for the matter? The Rosseau heir had made no secret of his affections for a certain dark-haired Hufflepuff. At least, not to the point where Marcus wouldn't notice it. Not that the Transfiguration Professor approved of it in any way. Words like scandalous and downright disturbing couldn't quite cover it. Marcus' smile remained unfaltering despite the youth's appalling display of rudeness. Like most children accustomed to being spoiled, Asher likely believed (and quite accurately so) that the school, or more specifically it's professors, held no power over the adolescent's behaviour nor his demeanour. While Marcus and the other teachers had a partial responsibility towards the upbringing of the younger students of Hogwarts, Asher had already come of age. In other words, Asher (no matter how childish a rakehell he was) was to be seen and treated as an adult. "The prank was child's play only because you had adequate skill with which to execute it, Mister Rosseau," the professor said amiably. It wasn't as though Marcus thought of him as a bad person. Asher had shown that he was capable of being quite the caring gentleman towards those he liked. Regardless of how personal Asher chose to phrase his verbal jabs, Marcus had long decided not to take them too personally. Asher had the potential to be as brilliant at Transfiguration as he was at Charms or the Dark Arts. Only he lacked the interest to try. Perhaps the only thing that truly disappointed Marcus was that he had failed to inspire love for the subject in the youth. But then, to each his own. Asher's strong-will had both its advantages and its short-comings. "That is a shame," and it truly was, "although I wouldn't have condescended to call what I had in mind a performance." Marcus turned back to his pile and the smile was replaced by a light frown. "It appears I shall have to work this out on my own." He placed his knuckles to his hips. "I've always had trouble with dragons you know," he spoke, mainly to himself. While Marcus had little trouble producing realistic statues of other magical beasts, he was never quite able to accurately reproduce the exact proportions of dragon body-parts. That was why Marcus never displayed dragons. "Transfiguration, in its most principal form, is the projection of one's vision onto a physical medium." It was the main reason Marcus loved the subject so; Transfiguration was an area of magic that offered infinite possibilities. "I've found it particularly challenging when one has never actually seen a dragon in real life. One can only garner so much from books. And I've heard that you were quite the expert on the topic." If one were to pay closer attention to the small mountain of miscellaneous 'junk', one would see that it consisted of mostly scaly disfigured chunks wood. Marcus reached out and choose a piece from the pile. He pressed the tip of his wand to the block and with a mental command, set the block to its original form: a rough chunk of wood. Seating himself, Marcus again pressed his wand to the wood and uttered a curt incantation. At once, the object shifted, forming a small serpentine figurine that was decidedly... abstract. Marcus held back a sigh. He would try again.

It was completely ridiculous! There was really no reason for her to end up with detention! No there really wasn't or so she thought on her part. She should have been used to getting detentions by now honestly. She should also know by now the reason she kept getting detentions over and over again.

She was a natural hothead or that's what her father called her but he had no room to talk in her opinion. He was a hothead too so that was probably where she had gotten it. Her mother was too prim and well manner to be a hothead although it would silly to think it wasn't rubbing off on her. It seemed their family was pretty much full of them though or perhaps not really. Her youngest sister was developing her own temper though.

But, yes, this natural hothead always got in trouble for the same ol' reason again and again. It was almost like her trademark one could say. She was an over protective friend and older sibling after all and the usually resulted in her getting into fights. Physical fights as she didn't quite care to be proper and use spells. It wasn't always over defending her friends or family though because sometimes it was just her temper exploding.

Again. She was a natural hothead so it wouldn't be much of a surprise her temper exploding. So it was almost pointless to say it was completely ridiculous that she was getting detention. She had sent the very person to the hospital wing after all and it was amazing that she never got into more trouble than detention for it. She pretty much had her own permanent residence in the detention chamber since she was in there so much. It was pretty funny that she hadn't be expelled yet actually.

There she was walking into the detention chamber with her backpack hanging off her shoulder. It contained a few things she needed to finish her homework and then it had other busy work for afterwards. Mainly her sketch book as well as her pencils to go with it and a book just in case she got bored of that. She'd even go for sleeping if she got that bored in the detention but her attention usually stayed on drawing for a while. She noticed Asher had managed to get himself landed in detention as well and went to take the seat in front of him.

Breanna dropped the her backpack onto the desk and pulled the chair out so she could sit down. She barely gave the front of the room a glance and gave a slight nod to the professor at the front. Sure, she was a good student but she didn't have excellent relationships with the professors. Most of them only believed her to be nothing but a hothead Gryffindor that was probably cheating on her homework or something to get good grades. She turned in her chair to face Asher as soon as she sat down and had a grin on her face.

"So, Ash. What'd you do to get detention this time?" Breanna knew her blonde friend quite well and he was in detention almost as much as she was.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:100px; background-color:#eee;][style=margin-left:8px; background-color:#ddd; border-right: 2px dashed #ccc; height:408px;][style=margin-left:8px; background-color:#bbb; border-right:1px dotted #aaa; height:408px;][style=width:400px; height:108px; font-family:georgia; font-size:15px; color:#f1f1f1; font-weight:bold; -webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); -o-transform: rotate(-90deg); float: left; margin-left: -140px; margin-right:-200px; margin-top:150px; text-transform:lowercase;]you descended, i amended and i need it like a hole in the head, i need it like a hole in the head. you took me to the lion's den and waited for the beast to begin...[/style][/style][/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:300px;border-right:8px solid #eee; border-top:16px solid #eee; border-bottom:16px solid #eee;][style=float:center; background-color:#fff; color:#dedede; height:380px; font-family:arial; overflow:auto; padding:15px; text-align:justify; color:#000; font-size:10px;][style=float:left;height:100px; width:100px; border:3px solid #222; margin-right:3px; margin-bottom:-3px;][/style]The day that Xerxes had joined the student population was his first “criminal” act. He had punched some other kid his age in the face, trying to assert his dominance over the other eleven year old. This was before he had even been sorted. It wasn’t Xerxes’ fault, no, that he had turned violent. It was the other kid’s fault, that he ticked the blue haired boy off to the point where he did actually punch someone in the face. Granted, that was, right after Xerxes had left Greece with the news that he was cut off from the enormous wealth that the Aaron household had in the bank. Though, he later learned that it wasn’t even necessary for him to even carry money around. So, why was Xerxes Aaron, four years later walking into the detention room? Well, Xerxes’ appearance was certainly expected daily. He was just one of the kids who, no matter how hard they tried, couldn’t stay out of trouble. Xerxes didn’t even try, so just imagine how much trouble Xerxes got himself in. So, what did he do this time? Simple really, he simply lit his desk on fire, along with all the papers, books, and textbooks on it. Why? The head of school asked him, Xerxes just shrugged it off with a simple, “Simply did not feel like working.” Thing, and decided to spit at the head of school. Punishment? A months’ worth of detention, not like Xerxes would even attend a majority of them. He was late walking in there, anyway. So, of course, the blue haired male walks in, like he owns the place, because let’s face it, detention was his kingdom. He was king, and every other fucker who opposed him could fight him for the title. King of Detention, not a title a lot of people would actually be proud of, but we’re talking about Xerxes here. He’s the proudest mother fucker out there. He slams the door open, the smuggest grin he could possibly muster on his face. “I’m here.” With that he scanned the room of its residents, pleased to spot the face of the person he liked most in this world, in the next, in any universe. “Hey, Ash..” He chuckled. “Let me guess, prefect prank?” He pulled up a seat next to him, completely ignoring the professor who he was talking to, completely ignoring the redhead whore. He turned the chair around, so the back was hitting the desk, and sat down on it, his head hitting the top of the rest. “Well, anyway, I am late, no apologizes, because this is wasting my time anyway, you're wasting my valuable time, Dunes.” He said casually, to Professor Dunes, which he personally had no major issue with at all. He just happened to have had detention that day. Xerxes wasn’t respectful, and he thanked those invisible gods in the sky, that may or may not exist, that Aphrodite wasn’t here. No, that bitch probably talked her way out of every detention she ever had. WORDS: 510 TAGS: DEM BAD KIDS. [8 MUSIC: 96neko-orange. NOTES: LOL, HE'S KING OF DETENTION, SUP PEEPS?[/style]

[style=font-size:8px; font-family:georgia;]made by RIVER! of BV and OTE![/style]

Although being what some would consider aggressive, Charles was never one to actually start fights. His aggressiveness tended to show most prominently on the Quidditch pitch as well as in wizard duels, where he’d keep his opponents constantly on their toes. The reason as to his present detention visit was related to the former. In one of his usual crazy aerial maneuvers, he avoided a Bludger and flew straight for the Snitch. At the same time he was being chased by a much younger Slytherin Chaser while on a head-on collision course with the Slytherin Seeker, both of them gunning for the Snitch. What seemed like an impossible situation had worked itself in Charles’ favor when he nosed down and braked hard, seemingly floating up slightly with his broom pointed straight down while the Chaser behind him overshot. This caused said Chaser to collide straight into the Seeker before he could grab the snitch. It was a miracle that there wasn’t a foul called, considering that Charles had no intention of colliding with anyone. With his brilliant tactic successful, he went on to claim the Snitch and win the match. The Chaser, feeling humiliated for falling for Charles’ ploy, decided to confront him a few days later, to which Charles certainly obliged, though the setting was less than ideal. He had tried to get the jump on Charles, only to end up getting hit with Slug-Vomiting Charm.

This wasn’t the reason Charles was given detention. All of that actually happened, but it wasn’t the reason. No, the actual reason was that Charles was testing a variation of the Shield Charm he had been working on for some time, one that was meant to deflect only wind and small objects like insects. Being in between classes and rather bored, he decided to try it out in one of the courtyards. Upon casting it, he casted a Ventus jinx, creating a strong gust of wind that impacted the Shield Charm. Given the relative strength of the spell, it separated streams of wind traveled farther then he had predicted, bouncing off of other things and generally blowing everyone’s robes up, especially the girls. It wasn’t a serious offense, but it was enough to land him in detention due to the amount of commotion it made and the mess created when those affected dropped their things.

It was no big deal really, at least not to him. Compared to other things, Charles had gotten off lightly. No suspension from Quidditch, just a detention. After this, he’d probably just test out new spells in the Room of Requirement, or just do that in the halls for shits and giggles. Either way, he entered the detention chamber in a relaxed and nonchalant manner, almost without a care in the world. He brought his book bag with him and some assignments as well. But given how horrible of a procrastinator he was, they probably weren’t going to get done then and there, unless he was seriously that bored. But more likely than not he’d fall asleep if he was that bored.

That was until he noticed the other people sitting in the detention chamber. The first person he saw was Breanna, and already he knew things were going to be fun…as much fun as detention could be. The feisty, fiery red head had a thing for him, and it was obvious, painfully so. He also noticed his Quidditch team’s Beater, Asher. Despite the fact they worked closely on the field, Charles didn’t really know much about him off of it. Apparently Asher didn’t think much of him, though this did not bother Charles one bit. He didn’t care what others thought of him as they didn’t know him well, or at least didn’t bother to try. There was more to him than the lazy, perverted Gryffindor captain with a knack for showing off his skills on the broom or on the dueling platform, that much was certain. And then there was Xerxes. Charles himself had no problem with Asher’s cousin, though he found him to be a just a tad creepy.

Either way, Charles gave a nod to Asher and Xerxes, greeting the two with a polite, “Hello Asher, Xerxes.” He took a seat next to Breanna, glancing over to her with a kind smile and a chuckle. “Guten Tag, Bree. What poor creature have you sent to the infirmary today?”

[style=width: 416px;background-color: #b1b198; color: #989884; font-family: arial black; font-size: 9px; text-align: right; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; padding-top: 3px; letter-spacing: 4px; margin-bottom: -1px;]I DON'T NEED YOUR FUCKING HALO[/style][style=width: 416px;background-color: #b1b198; color: #d4d4b4; text-shadow: #814a4a 1px 1px 0px; font-family: georgia; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 15px; text-align: right; font-weight: bolder; text-indent: 2em; letter-spacing: 1px; margin-bottom: -3px;]can't you see i'm no one's angel[/style]

[atrb=style,border-top: 8px solid #333333; border-bottom: 8px solid #333333; border-left: 3px solid #b1b198; border-right: 3px solid #b1b198;][bg=7b3636][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,420,true][atrb=width,20%][atrb=vAlign,top] [style=width:100px; height: 100px; border: 3px solid #333333; opacity:0.9;filter:alpha(opacity=40); margin-left:3px; background-image: url(http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l11/DevilishSeductress/Ren/0xCsr.jpg); -moz-border-radius-topright: 40px; -moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 40px;] [/style]   [style=width:100px; height: 100px; border: 3px solid #333333; opacity:0.9;filter:alpha(opacity=40); margin-left: 3px; background-image: url(http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l11/DevilishSeductress/Ren/0xCsr.jpg); -moz-border-radius-topright: 40px; -moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 40px;] [/style]  [style=width:100px; height: 100px; border: 3px solid #333333; opacity:0.9;filter:alpha(opacity=40); margin-left: 3px; background-image: url(http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l11/DevilishSeductress/Ren/0xCsr.jpg); -moz-border-radius-topright: 40px; -moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 40px;] [/style] [style=margin-right; 19px; margin-top: -360px; height: 375px; margin-left: 115px; margin-bottom: -5px; overflow:auto; background-color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size: 9px; color: #e1dbc2; padding-top: 16px; padding-bottom: 19px; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 10px; text-align: justify; -moz-border-radius-topleft: 10px; -moz-border-radius-topright: 10px;]Cold blue eyes remained stubbornly closed even as Dunesworth kept talking. After all, Asher had no intention to do anything that the professor suggested. But at the mention of the word “dragon”, long feminine golden lashes fluttered open and glacial hues were immediately alert. Asher loved dragons. If that had ever been a secret then it was the worst-kept one in all of Hogwarts’ history. And that was saying something. The blond adolescent’s love for the fire-breathing beasts was near to the point of obsession. After all, the few pieces of literature that Asher would ever bring himself to read often mentioned dragons, and many items of clothing – particularly his underwear – featured dragons displayed upon the fabric. There were hundreds of facts that Asher could recite about dragons off the top of his head, he had actually seen a few during his month-long explorations with his magizoologist mother as a child, and he had already decided that he would dedicate his adult life to the study of dragonology. Even his own lover, Damien Li-fen, Asher took to calling “dragon.” And yet no other professor, with the exception of Dunesworth, had attempted to use that obsession against Asher. Which is why Asher watched, making no attempt to disguise his interest, as Dunesworth transfigured the block of wood into what should have been a dragon. But looked more serpentine than anything else. Frowning, Asher clicked his tongue in annoyance, finding himself compelled to show Dunesworth what a dragon should look like. However, before Asher could do more than shift his feet off from the surface of his desk, a familiar red-head claimed the desk in front of him. Immediately claiming his attention in her loud familiar voice. ”’Sup, Bree?” Asher smiled back at the lioness. His bow-shaped lips parted to answer her question but the loud impact of the detention chamber’s door striking the wall violently interrupted him as effectively as the shout “troll in the dungeon!” cleared out a room. Rather than feel irritated Asher couldn’t help but to beam at the long haired male, strutting in with obvious confidence, as if he owned the place. Asher wasn’t going to dispute the claim: Xerxes was the detention king. ”Xerx.” Grinning, Asher held his palm out to hi-five his younger cousin and undeniably favourite family member in greeting as Xerxes claimed the desk beside him. ”No, not perfect. I’m still young so there’s always room for improvement, yet I’ll still say that I did an awesome job,” the blond smirked, deliberately layering on the dramatics. ”As I was about to tell Bree, I snuck into the prefect’s bathroom and transfigured one of the toilets into life … well, temporary life. Enough so that when somebody sat down on the seat the lid came down hard enough to remove skin, and wasn’t going to open without some real convincing. And that’s how I came to be here this morning,” Asher snickered. ”How about you guys? If your story’s better than mine, Xerx, I’ll supply this Thursday’s round of fire whiskey.” It was at that point that Charles Falke, Mister Gryffindor Quidditch Captain himself, entered the room. Asher arched his golden brows, moderately surprised as the tall seeker wasn’t a common sight within the detention chamber. Or at least not when Asher was in attendance. Which was often. ”Falke,” came Asher’s cool response, nodding his head in stiff greeting before he proceeded to ignore the guy entirely. Charles might have been the one making the orders on the quidditch pitch and he might have been one of Asher’s boyfriend’s closest friends, but that didn’t mean that Asher thought highly of him. No, Asher was determined to believe that Charles was a hunk of over-toned muscle absent a brain. Cool blue eyes paused on Dunesworth’s failed statue and the same earlier compulsion struck Asher once more. A need to demonstrate what a true dragon looked like. Stubbornly, Asher bit down upon his lower lip and remained where he was. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.[/style]

[style=width: 416px; background-color: #b1b198; margin-top: -3px; color: #212121; font-family: arial; font-size: 9px;] words:: 672 ♠ tagged:: DUNESWORTH, BREE, XERX, CHARLES, OPEN ♠ notes :: Sorry for the late reply guys T.T [/style][style=font-family: courier new; letter-spacing: 4px; font-size: 10; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;] template by synchronicity[/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] Teenagers tended to have a view of morality that differed from that which is set by adults. In fact, Marcus might even go as far as saying that their perspective was deliberately twisted from the one required by the norm. Their defiance was understandable. It was around their age that people started looking for their sense of self; when they started building an identity for themselves. For that purpose, boundaries needed to be pushed and tested. Marcus was sorely reminded of this when their number was joined by one other: the only Slytherin that frequented the detention hall as much as a couple of his Gryffindor peers. "Mister Aaron," Marcus greeted with a smile. "Professor Dunesworth, please. You might find it a mouthful, but I'd appreciate it if you could afford me that small courtesy," he added cordially. Impertinence was to be expected from this crowd, he supposed. Ah well, he'd been a rake once upon a time. It was a phase he'd grown out of and though he would never articulate it, he wished the same for his students. Of course, he had faith that each student would mature in their own good time. He made no comment on the conversation that went on in the room. It looked as though no one felt guilty for the wrong-doings that had brought them this afternoon of detention. In fact, each seemed fairly proud of themselves. That was fine too. Just as long as it didn't threatened the well-being of the other students. Besides, had these children realized the error of their ways, they would not be in detention, would they?Marcus also took note of the mention of 'firewhiskey'. There was certainly not a Hogsmeade visit arranged for the coming Thursday. He made a mental note to be weary on that day. A little alcohol among young people was fine just as long as the situation didn't get out of hand. The professor returned to his project, a light scowl gracing his features as he went into deep thought. He was keenly aware of the icy blue orbs - disdainful and knowing - that flicked briefly on his attempt. Marcus didn't press again. Asher could share his input when he felt ready. Hm, dragons were said to be lizard-like, with large bat-like wings. Their legs resembled that of an elephant's except they possessed talons that rivalled even the most powerful hippogriff. They had heads shaped like a horse's- no, a camel's. And inside their gaping maw, they were said to have rows of sharp teeth... just like that of a Grindylow. With an idle flick of his wrist, six half-transfigured blocks removed themselves from the pile and transformed into the animals he had envisioned. He turned his palm parallel to the ground and the flawless figures of a lizard, a bat, an elephant, a hippogriff, a camel and a grindylow landed softly on his desk. Hm... he hummed in his mind. His black irises studied the figures with an intensity that could ignite flames. Marcus made a gesture of grabbing something from the air in front of him and another block floated from the pile. Another gesture, this time a spreading of his fingers and thumb, caused the block to double in size. Marcus began moulding. "That doesn't look right at all," he muttered grimly to himself after he was done. The figure had all the parts he had imagined. It was scaly all over, though the scales were so small, they resembled the leathery hide of lizards. It had a whip like tail that tapered - just like a lizard. And just like his lizard, it was a deep shade of khaki. It had a long snout, but the head looked far more camel than it did reptilian. It had sharp teeth - two rows lining each jaw and coming together in a scissor bite. The fore- and back-limbs were stubby like an elephant's and twisted smoothly into raptor-talons at the end.The wings looked thin and leathery and much too small in proportions. Compared to the first 'dragon' he'd made.. this one looked positively horrendous! Maybe he should stick with the book illustrations?

It seemed after her arrival everyone else that was supposed to serve detention just sort of showed up. Glad to know she was the one that would get the others to show up somehow not that she was proud of that fact. It was just funny how everyone else showed up after her. Not that she would laugh about it either. No, the other two were annoying.

Or well, one of the other two was annoying and the other one was a pervy perv perv who hung out with the other pervy perv pervs. She might have spoken to Asher again had Xerxes not walked in and struck one up with him first. She wasn't accustomed to just completely ignoring people but then again he owed her his reason for being in detention. It was okay though because Asher proceeded to tell the both of them even addressing that he had been about to tell her; take that you sexist whore.

No, she'd never seriously say that out loud to Xerxes just because she was friends with Asher and Xerxes was his cousin. Bree let out a laugh at the reason Asher had gotten detention and grinned at him. It sounded completely dreadful and she was kind of glad she wasn't a prefect. Don't get her wrong she got awesome grades and could probably manage being one but would you trust her as a prefect. No. She's too much of a hot head and has always been landing herself into detention because of it over the years.

"So did they tell you, which prefect met your toilet wrath?" Breanna asked truly curious and amused by it. "Me? Ash, you should be fully aware of what landed me into detention. Or at least by now I would hope you would know." She continued answering his question although not at with what she had done; he should have already known what it was.

It was just after she had finished off answering Asher that Charles had walked in. All the people for detention just showing up right after her, still amused and partially irritated her to no end. Charles was greeted by Asher first only stating his last name and nodding to acknowledge that he was in the room or that's what it seemed like. The other blond male did the same to both Xerxes and Asher before taking a seat next to her. She glanced over at him slightly when he started to talk to her but his words were pissing her off although she did take note that he knew why she was in detention; she appreciated that.

"Does it matter? They deserved it." Breanna said in response to him huffing and folding her arms across her chest. "Shouldn't have been running his mouth like he was especially not to me." She continued only hinting that it had been a male running his mouth; her parents were getting a owl about the incident however.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:100px; background-color:#eee;][style=margin-left:8px; background-color:#ddd; border-right: 2px dashed #ccc; height:408px;][style=margin-left:8px; background-color:#bbb; border-right:1px dotted #aaa; height:408px;][style=width:400px; height:108px; font-family:georgia; font-size:15px; color:#f1f1f1; font-weight:bold; -webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); -o-transform: rotate(-90deg); float: left; margin-left: -140px; margin-right:-200px; margin-top:150px; text-transform:lowercase;]you descended, i amended and i need it like a hole in the head, i need it like a hole in the head. you took me to the lion's den and waited for the beast to begin...[/style][/style][/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:300px;border-right:8px solid #eee; border-top:16px solid #eee; border-bottom:16px solid #eee;][style=float:center; background-color:#fff; color:#dedede; height:380px; font-family:arial; overflow:auto; padding:15px; text-align:justify; color:#000; font-size:10px;][style=float:left;height:100px; width:100px; border:3px solid #222; margin-right:3px; margin-bottom:-3px;][/style]“Charles.” Xerxes greeted with a short headbob, not like he had anything against the guy… personally.. He just hung around Greene, fucking Greene needed to be put in his place. Fucking guy walked around like he owned the place, that shit wasn’t going to fly. Please do understand, one has to know that Asher and Xerxes ran this school, not the bloody fleabitten wolf. He looked over to Dunesworth. Xerxes eyes narrowed for just a moment, until they widened again, his face forming a scowl. “I will bloody call you what I want, okay? Make me, Dunes.” Xerxes had no respect for the Transfiguration professor. Though, his attention quickly flipped to Asher, a smirk forming back on his face as he listened to Asher’s prank. Fucking prefects deserved it, they had to butt into everyone else’s business. Xerxes didn’t feel sorry for the guy who ended up sitting on the toilet, how could he? It was a riot, fucking funniest thing he had heard all week. But did it beat Xerxes’ story? No, it didn’t. “Well, you better be ready to buy next Thursday’s rounds, Ash.” His smirk turned smug. “What did I do? I lit my desk on fire, with all my work, and all my textbooks. The teacher threw a fucking hissy fit. Why? Because I just did not feel like working. It bought me a month’s worth of detention.” Xerxes shrugged his shoulders, and let out a chuckle “So, you are buying, right?” He raised an eyebrow at his cousin. He couldn’t really help but to think how attractive Asher looked today. Oh screw the idea that he was his cousin, inbreeding was done in their family for centuries. The only issue was that dirtbag that Asher was with now, fucking Li-fen. Xerxes knew deep down, he couldn’t have his cousin, but if that Li-fen broke Ash’s heart. No matter how many years that boy had in training, he could consider himself dead. Xerxes didn’t care for himself at this point; his life was pretty much meaningless to him now. His brother gone, the only family he had left was Asher. Or at least, the only one he considered family. He was willing to die for his cousin, and he wasn’t afraid to let it be known. Xerxes didn’t bother to listen to the redheaded whore. She had a big mouth. He was sure he’d hear more of it later. Detention did go on for quite a while. WORDS: 412 TAGS: DEM BAD KIDS. [8 MUSIC: deco*27-egomama NOTES: such a late reply. OTL[/style]

[style=font-size:8px; font-family:georgia;]made by RIVER! of BV and OTE![/style]

"I dunno, does it?" Charles chimed. "It seems like you know the guy pretty well. Is it your brother you've given a ticket to the infirmary to?" He chuckled, genuinely relishing her fiery spirit. He more or less ignored the other two. Asher seemed to have some sort of vendetta against him, for what reason escaped him. It was perhaps his usual confidence that led him to theorize that he was possibly jealous of him, but for all intents and purposes, he was probably wrong in that regard and Asher just didn't like him. As for Xerxes, he didn't really interact with him much, though there was a joke that his good friend, Damien, had cracked about him. Something about Xerxes being the most used hole in Hogwarts, a joke that left his and Blaine's sides hurting immensely.

"Y'know, I should really start putting together a list of people you've sent to the Infirmary, grab a school roster and mark down everyone you've beaten up." he joked. Charles pushed back on his chair, resting it on the heavy table behind him and placed his feet up on the desk, getting comfortable in detention, though his efforts would most likely see him being chided by the professor for "improper conduct," something he genuinely did not care about. Though as soon as he did so, he placed his feet back on the floor, and righted his chair. Charles leaned in towards Bree, placing his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his hands as though it was story time and she was the one sharing. "So what did he do this time?" he wasn't exactly sure if it was her brother she had beaten up, so he was more less acting on a good hunch, as this wouldn't have been the first time she had beaten the crap out of him. Actually the same could be said for many of her usual victims.

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