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[bloodserpent]

I wish this fucking house would shut the fuck up.

All I hear, every 15 minutes, is screaming, crying, yelling about some shit that doesn't even fucking matter. I mean, seriously. If that stupid little Jasmine thinks that getting fucked over by Elias Mitchells is the worse thing that'll happen to her, then she just isn't paying attention.

When did the

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[theworldofvain]

I walked into a closet to get my coat and there were two third years tangled in it. And they weren't exactly doing their homework. All I know for sure is that I am never, ever leaving anything that belongs to me in that closet again, lest it be covered in udentified fluids by the next morning.

When did Slytherin house get so...raunchy? Our generation was at least subtle about it. Sometimes.

The children of the convicted handle their stress with drink, I see. Still, I'll bring up everything I can find, which includes the infamous pink liquid and the violet sludge.

[bloodserpent]

Probably Elias Mitchells. Sometimes I feel proud of that boy. He claims to be fire-hydrant like so keeping coats away may just be a good idea.

Miss Parkinson, you are not the person to claim subtlety. Tables, alcohol and pretty young boys...?

Good, good. If tomorrow should offer either hangovers or more questioning, I'll have to take the hangovers. If that makes sense. And I'm not sure it does. I used to be a master with words. Look at what the Ministry has done to Blaise Zabini. Fuck them.

[theworldofvain]

Er...I've no recollection of any tables. Alcohol, surely. And I have had my share of pretty young boys. But not all together. Certainly no lampshades involved, either.

Fuck them indeed. I'm not sure if I've completely broken down or have just started to care. Nothing makes sense anymore. Cheers, I suppose.

[bloodserpent]

Cheers. To the Ministry, to our parents, to the whole fucked up thing.

Cheers.