| Open third |
[May. 1st, 2005|11:25 am] |
Frank lay naked on the dormitory floor.
How long had he been there? A long time.
The floor was littered with empty bottles, butt ends, and the scent of human effluence.
He stared at the ceiling, his hands planted flat on the stone surface beneath him.
Sunday. Time to clean yourself up.
Get dressed, walk off the sleep in your legs, drink some strong tea, and then jack off.
Frankie grumbled as he sat up and reached over the footboard for a pair of pants, which he pulled on with a grunt.
He grabbed a Weezer T-shirt--
Is this Adams?
--and pulling it over his disheveled hair walked down to the bathroom. After a nice long piss he made his way to the common room, and out into the hall. He rubbed his eyes as slowly he felt himself come awake. |
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| heh |
[Apr. 24th, 2005|01:13 pm] |
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| Locked for Adam |
[Apr. 24th, 2005|12:04 pm] |
Frank walked down into the front hall, lighting a cigarette. Funny, the last time he'd walked through that area...
The doors were thrown open. It was like the castle was singing "Happy Times are Here Again." Why were all the students singing funeral dirges?
He leaned on the door post and looked out.
How long would it be before they had to go through this ordeal again. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 23rd, 2005|03:54 pm] |
ADAM!
The forest is empty.
Satan has left.
WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHY AREN'T WE OUT THERE?! |
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| HAPPY NATIONAL POT SMOKING DAY |
[Apr. 20th, 2005|03:33 pm] |
Frank was finally out of the hospital wing.
An owl had delivered a small parcle to him at the breakfast table, and uninterested in prying eyes he had put it in his pocket and forgotten until just that moment.
Pot. Lots and Lots of pot.
Frank stopped and stared. He was in the middle of a hallway. Luckily it was late in the day, and likely no one saw.
Why pot? Who sent this?!
There was a note on the inside. He unfolded it and read.
Dear Francis,
Yes, I'm calling you Francis. Happy National Pot Smoking Day. Americans are weird.
-Corky
The hell?
He flipped the note over, but the back was blank.
Is Corky in America? The Americans have a day dedicated to smoking pot?
ooc: Open to anyone who wants to bust me for pot... or anyone who wants to smoke out. |
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| Open to Sixth year backrow kids |
[Apr. 13th, 2005|12:11 pm] |
Frank sat in the back row of his history of magic class. He always sat in the backrow. While on any regular day he would be sleeping, or snorting something he was wide awake, and completely focused. The subject of that focus just didn't happen to be the teacher. It was, in fact, the slip of parchment that sat before him.
He was writing a very carefully orchestrated letter, using the best handwriting that he could muster, which was only part-way legible. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 12th, 2005|11:03 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Your Mom | ] |
Free. Single.
Obey the icon. |
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| Locked, you know who you are |
[Apr. 10th, 2005|08:51 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Walk this Way | ] |
Frankie had sat, alone in his dorm all day. Adam was no where to be found... probably at church.... or worshiping the lesser deity he called Lisa. Frank sat up, tossed aside the butt end of his last, soggy cigarette, and removed himself from the unmade bed. Pulling on his leather jacket, he stormed out of the room and a short way down the hall to the door of the 5th year dormitory. He pounded on it.
"Riley," He hollared, "open up!" |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 9th, 2005|10:54 am] |
( Good adivice for real men only )
Truly I am a master of inner house relations. I've three Ravenclaw friends now, and one of them's my girlfriend. The sorting hat would be proud. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 7th, 2005|04:14 pm] |
( private )
So.... back from break now.... been back for a week.... WHERE THE FUCK IS ADAM?
I mean... he's my fucking roommate for fuck's sake! Has ANYONE seen him? AND WHERE THE HELL DID THE LAST BAG OF JUJAMBORI GO?
ADAM!!!!! |
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| ooc: |
[Apr. 5th, 2005|10:53 am] |
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Hey, I'm a little behind in my posting. Please forgive me, I've caught a bad cold and creative thought kinda... took a vacation. As soon as I'm well I'll give Tonks a nice long 3rd... and I'll do something with Frank. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 2nd, 2005|10:48 pm] |
A cigar in his teeth, a bottle of strong liquor in his fist, Frank Tiereny swaggered out of the fireplace and into the Slytherin common room. He was still dressed in his riding clothes, and his neck and face were extremely red, which only magnified the image of a drunk Irishman, though it was actually because of allergies. He ripped his frilly shirt off in a manner that made him look something like an old school rock star, and flopped down on a leather sofa, kicking off his boots.
He took a long gulp of his ale and let his head flop back on the armrest. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 29th, 2005|03:54 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Death Sex by the Distillers | ] |
Wheezing, Frank dredged up the grand staircase, down the hall and into the bedroom of his childhood. He walked straight past the bed and into the bathroom where he proceeded into the shower, clothes and all, and turned on the cold water. He sighed in relief.
His eyes, nose and neck were red. His arms were breaking out into hives. He sneezed miserably and leaned into the water.
Even in the wizarding world there was nothing to cure the ails of Francis Tiereny's allergies to every animal on earth. Cats... dogs.... rodents..... and, above all else, Horses.
I will die before I ever get back to school.
He stripped to the buff (a considerable feat, considering that his clothes were wet and clung to his skin like a muggle to a television remote), and let the water course over him, and when he was sure the dander was gone he turned off the water, and without even toweling off walked back into the bedroom and past out on the bed.
"Get your rest," Agnese had said, "you're up for another long day of riding tomorrow." |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 26th, 2005|12:19 pm] |
With a cough and a hack, Frank stumbled into the front hall of the Tiereny Manor, a large estate on which pure blood Aethonans were bred, raised and trained. The front room was dark, draped in heavy curtains of maroon embroidered with black. The walls themselves were black all throughout the house, except in the house elf quarters, which were completely bare and painted intentionally a shabby gray to appear oppressive and close. Frank dusted off his school shirt and looked around uninterestedly.
( Read more... ) |
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| Open for business |
[Mar. 20th, 2005|02:35 pm] |
( Owl to Mafalda )
Frank sat alone at the base of a statue of a hump-backed witch. He was riffling through a book of omens, and seemed to be waiting for something. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 12th, 2005|09:31 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Giving Up by The Darkness | ] |
It was very early in the morning. He wasn't really sure how early, except that he's been in the kitchen all night and some of the elves were starting to make breakfast. I say some of the elves, because most of the elves weren't sober enough to actually make anything except perhaps vomit.
Frank was in the heat of a drinking contest with a rather squat elf, whose nose had gone completely red, and whose eyes had bulged out. Frank had amazed even himself with how resilient he was to the alcohol. He had been drinking shots of hard liquor all night, and had, by now, out drunk most of the elves, which was quite a lot of elves if he didn't say so himself. And they were only drinking Butterbeer which apperantly was more than efficient at getting them drunk, because of their low body mass.
It was on what felt like his millionth shot that he started to realize he was very very drunk; drunk enough to find the fact that no one would be getting breakfast on time extremely funny.
So, deciding it probably wouldn't be wise to make any more of an ass of himself, he left the kitchen, and the drunken elves.
He had made up his mind to go to his dorm and pass out for several hours when he suddenly realized he had no idea where he was or how to get back to the Slytherin Common Room. So he resigned himself to wandering the dungeons until he found something familiar, or until some kind soul found him and took him home. |
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| Le Whomping Willow |
[Mar. 10th, 2005|02:07 pm] |
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Frank walked like a man with a purpose to the spot where the great living tree stood. He kept his distance, not wanting to be Whomped, and waited with his hands in his pockets. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 9th, 2005|06:52 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Meet me in the Bathroom by the Strokes | ] |
Francis Tiereny sauntered into the common room like he owned it. He was zipping up his fly and humming the tune to Meet Me in the Bathroom by the Stokes. The t-shirt he was wearing had been magiced to flash the words "Fuck me, I just aced a History of Magic Test."
He walked to where the bulletin board stood against one of the walls and proceeded to cover it with fliers advertising Tiereny Wilkes Co.'s desires to sell their homegrown, performance enhancing "herbs." |
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| OOC: |
[Mar. 6th, 2005|03:04 pm] |
Okay... I took this thinking it would be stupid and I would never tell a living should I actually did it...
I took it while consciously trying to think like Frankie... and it's actually pretty hilarious in that context.
( Please Use a Condom ) |
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