#noc.intro

[rabastvns]

hello ! i’m admin petra ( *jack sparrow vc* BUT YOU HAVE HEARD OF ME ), twenty-one, operate in the cst timezone and go by she/her pronouns. i, like the rest of you, am an absolute HP H O E. a fun note: you can find me supporting maximum angst and problematic scenarios with deplorable outcomes ! i hope to plot and speak with you all soon; my IMs are always open ( as well as discord if desired ) !

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ RABASTAN LESTRANGE ] !  the muggles say he holds resemblance to [ MATTHEW DADDARIO ]. the [ TWENTY-FIVE ] year old [ CIS MALE ] was [ CAUSTIC & DAUNTLESS ] before the war, but now have become [ APATHETIC & LETHAL ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of a [ HIT WIZARD ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually [ A DEATH EATER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

* law and order noise *

wicked grins and cataclysmic smirks; donning a crimson, cracked crown. a sharp does of unforgiving. to move hell and earth to obtain what he wants, obliterate all in his path. isolation and volatile, unpredictable nature. emotions are distractions and a waste of ability. a cynic with acidic bite. vengeance and the killing blow. nephilim, a black blake, shards of glass, old scotch, rare steak, chilling mists, dark alleys, dark chocolate, bruised knuckles, expensive wine, leather jackets, late night make out sessions, broken bones, dark clouds.

rabastan rowan lestrange.

6′3 & demisexual.

wand: ebony, phoenix feather, thirteen Inches, unyielding

amortentia: rain & pine, blood & chocolate, fire & smoke.

death eater ( does have the dark mark, was forced to take it ), once a keeper in quidditch ( scar through his left brow from an accident ), once part of the slug club & astronomy club.

a hit wizard / auror ( because j.k. sort of meant for them to be the same thing ? ). quite the assassin in his department. actually wanted to be a professional quidditch player until the war began, but his specialty is combat, and the dark lord wouldn’t have let his occupation turn out otherwise. as a hit wizard, he’s also been able to break out dark wizards from azkaban for the dark lord. however, he imprisons them just as quickly ( it’s best not to get on his bad side ).

he’d sacrifice himself for his brother, rodolphus; which is currently why he’s more interested in being a death eater ( for the fact he wants to make sure his brother survives ).

he likes to keep a cigarette tucked behind his ear, also likes books and can be found with quite the variety.

he’s good at war, and an expert on hate. because of this, it made it easy to get involved with dark prophecies despite if fully sharing the view. he’s rather insurgent, not one to be held beneath another, and the dark lord keeps a close eye on him for this reason.

truly, he probably doesn’t care about your blood status – not completely. it depends on the individual, and whether they’ll piss him off.

he’s particularly skilled at the DARK ARTS and MARTIAL MAGIC.

HIS PATRONUS IS THE WOLF. the wolf is a bit of a darker and mysterious soul, with the strength of a fighter. a person with this patronus has had a lot happen in their life, and do to that they wear a mask over their emotions. they do not trust or tame easily, and since they have been made cynical over the years this can be difficult.

he MURDERED his parents at the end of his seventh year, as his father was a fan of using the cruciatus curse on both sons to ‘ build character ’ throughout their years at hogwarts. you can read this HERE.

honestly there’s s o m u c h hmu ily xoxo admin petra

[edithchang-blog1]

hiii everyone! i’m ottie. :-) i’m so pumped to get started and write with you lovely people. here is a little about page for edith, but i’ll also include some more info under the read more. 

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ EDITH CHANG ] !  the muggles say she holds resemblance to [ NI NI ]. the [ TWENTY-SEVEN ] year old [ CIS FEMALE ] was [ OBSERVANT & ASSERTIVE ] before the war, but have now become [ CALCULATING & ALOOF  ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of a [ DEPUTY HEAD OF THE IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually [ A SPY FOR THE ORDER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet. ( OTTIE, 22, GMT+10, SHE/HER. ) 

recent recruit to the order, currently attempting to insert herself into the death eaters’ world. for security purposes only a few people high up in the order know she is actually a member. 

also deputy head of the improper use of magic office.

was head girl for the 1970 - 1971 school year.

was in the slug club.

so the potential connections between her and your character are endless!!

for some reason (sexism) she grew up in the shadow of her younger brother, who (in her opinion) was pretty average compared to her. her parents praised his achievements over hers so eventually she sought the approval of her professors and peers instead. 

edith is an adept occlumens, but you don’t have to be practicing legilimency on her for her to shut you out from her thoughts lol. 

she’ll act according to who she is around and whatever the situation calls for. probably an oscar winner in an alternate universe. 

she’s not cruel, but definitely not a cinnamon roll.

takes her work very seriously, a no-nonsense kinda gal. 

this is.... not great but it’s 7am ok!! i’m bad at intros to begin with.

[grevbacks]

BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE SECOND CHARACTER~ hello ! i’m admin petra ( *jack sparrow vc* BUT YOU HAVE HEARD OF ME ), twenty-one, operate in the cst timezone and go by she/her pronouns. i, like the rest of you, am an absolute HP H O E. a fun note: you can find me supporting maximum angst and problematic scenarios with deplorable outcomes ! i hope to plot and speak with you all soon; my IMs are always open ( as well as discord if desired ) !

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ FENRIR GREYBACK ] ! the muggles say he holds resemblance to [ SEBASTIAN STAN ]. the [ THIRTY-FIVE ] year old [ CIS MALE ] was [ INDOMITABLE & TACTICAL ] before the war, but now have become [ BARBARIC & INSURGENT ]. though they were once a part of [ DURMSTRANG ], they now have taken up the position of the [ LEADER OF THE WEREWOLF ARMY ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ HALFBLOOD ] is actually [ A DEATH EATER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

* law and order noise *

full moons, bloody hands, lone wolves, the colosseum, pompeii buried under meters of ash and pumice, the catastrophic event of mount vesuvius, a confessional aflame, gunmetal, winter’s barren tundra, vermillion stained canines, blinding fog, the howl before the scream, scarred flesh, black fur, a decaying forest, melting glaciers, a scratched leather trench coat, whiskey, black coffee, shadows.

fenrir lycaon greyback.

6′1 & demisexual & bulgarian.

for quite some time, he was the top of his class at durmstrang, and was expected to go quite the ways in the wizarding world. he also had an immense passion for the wizarding world’s creatures.

at thirteen, fenrir witnessed a werewolf attack his ten-year-old sister. though he defended her, he ended up bit in the process, and also witnessed his sister’s death.

at the next full moon, he wiped out the remainder of his family due to the curse.

for a long time, he despised what he was. the wizarding world made sure to place werewolves at the bottom of the totem pole, and eventually he decided he’d no longer allow his species to be placed low.

you can often find him skulking around knockturn alley with a few of his highest ranking wolves, including in pub where only werewolves may enter.

he does not fully support the dark lord -- nor does he hold the dark mark or support the purist movement -- but is a very valuable ally in which the dark lord requires. in exchange for fenrir’s aid, the dark lord considers him a death eater for the sheer purpose of keeping him in his inner circle.

fenrir hopes to achieve werewolf equality through the war, and has chosen darker means to obtain it. throughout his life, he’s been driven by vengeance.

he often attacks those who speak wrongly of his species ( consider why he attacked remus, due to his father saying that all werewolves deserved death, were vermin, etc ).

however, fenrir has also changed people of their own request as well as providing them an alternate route if death is approaching. of course, they must be a part of his army if they choose to accept. he’s been known to destroy anyone who dares defect.

the alpha of his pack, fenrir actually holds immense respect among the wizarding world’s werewolves. if you manage to befriend him, he’s quite the ally to have by your side.

HONESTLY THERE’S S O M U C H HMU ILY XOXO ADMIN PETRA

[dclohv-blog]

howdy everyone, i’m lara (like the croft) and this is my gutter dumpster boy ANTONIN! he’s horrible, but i’m going to try not to be; i’m 23, use she/her pronouns, and live in the central time zone. college and my job keep me up into all hours, so i’m always around to make life interesting. under the cut, you’ll find my application (which is so long and doing way too much, so bless u if u make it all the way through), in addition to which i’m also trying to whip up a good full biography page, though my proclivity for procrastination probably isn’t going to make that an easy task. please come give me all the plots, and come yell at/with me, because i’m super excited and up for anything and everything !!

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ ANTONIN DOLOHOV ] !  the muggles say he / she / they hold(s) resemblance to [ GASPARD ULLIEL ]. the [ TWENTY NINE ] year old [ MALE ] was [ MAGNETIC & PASSIONATE ] before the war, but have now become [ CONTROLLING & VIOLENT ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of a / an / the [ RUSSIAN LIASON TO THE DEPARTMENT OF INTERNATIONAL MAGICAL COOPERATION ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually [ A DEATH EATER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

HEADCANONS

1) patronus — Snow bursts     from beneath the feet of his steed, plumes, waves like a powdered sea,     settling into his hair, dampening his shoulders; a strange cacophony of     sensations this is, to be flanked by friends, to sit astride a steed known     from birth, to chase after a family of deer with such plebian fervor – but     to do so while wielding such magnificent power. Wand rolls between gloved     fingers, cutting down branches and bursting birds into plumes of smoke and     feather as he passes, the master, the pointed lead of the deadly formation.     All it is, is fun – they give no thought to slaughtering deer, to gutting     them and leaving them to bleed upon the snow simply for their amusement;     Antonin cannot help but wonder if his horse has some sort of moral     objection to chasing such a close cousin to its death – but the thought     only makes him laugh. Long before he killed the poor boy whose last sight     would be the walls of Durmstrang, he finds his release in the bloodshed of     animals. After all, they cannot really     fight back, can they? Perhaps the mountain lion can, the bear, the     cougar whose skin now serves as a rug in his mother’s boudoir, but never     the deer. And there is something almost erotic about complete and total     domination. Surely his comrades smell his power, even now – they’ve seen     it before, and they’ll see it now, even if the prey has neither the power     nor the foresight to fight back. But this is joy in its essence – a band     of brothers, warriors, like-minded personifications of violence itself who     kill not for the pride, the purpose, the profit, but for the thrill of     watching blood spill over an untouched bank of snow. Antonin throws a wild     grin, a haphazard glance, over his shoulder to one of his comrades, who     thrusts his wand in the air. He looks to the other, who does the same. He     looks forth, wand thrust forward and battle cry, a flurry of     indiscriminate curses slipping from chapped lips, and urges his horse     forward.

  The first deer falls with a whip-crack and a plume of red light, and -

   From his wand, in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, amidst a classroom full of onlookers, bursts a Snow Leopard, snarling, slinking about the circle until it comes to curl     about Antonin’s legs, broad nose prodding at his calf. With cyanide lips     curled upward, he looks down upon his creation and knows – this is his soul.

   In common lore, the Snow Leopard symbolizes Intuition, Solitude, Secrets,  Allure, Sexual Prowess, and PURITY. A solitary animal, it watches, observes, and collects information, striking only when beneficial. It cares well for its own, and is often associated     in legend and lore with self-discovery through excruciating trial. It is only appropriate, then, that Antonin produce such a manifestation of his own soul, for his own trial by fire (or ice) is ever burning.

2) amortentia —  “But the real question – does your Amortentia smell of me?” The subtlest hints of     Antonin’s amortentia change quite regularly, but the base is always the     same. Pine, sometimes fresh, sometimes crackling at the base of a dying     fire; red wine, surely just fresh poured; roses, but only just – perhaps     no more than a few petals upon a bare collar; the salt of the sea, quite     like the Baltic coast, for its smell is different than any other stretch     of ocean he’s come upon; the distinct smell of sex –sweat, musk, the faintest floral of a familiar perfume.     Amortentia is not something that Antonin likes to dwell on – love is a strange thing, ever changing; he     would much rather fuck than     love. But he cannot help but be torn in a thousand directions upon     catching a whiff of his perfectly brewed Amortentia – home, the woods     surrounding the small (“small”)     manor to the north used as a vacation home, the sea… and familiar beds, familiar whiffs from upon familiar     locks. Familiar perfumes and colognes upon sheets – the familiarity of a     head of raven hair and a pair of strong hands. It always changes – but love remains ever constant.     Constant – and unwanted.

3) boggart — “I fear     nothing. Why would I? It is I who     should be feared.” Antonin would rather die than admit any sort of weakness – and fear is just that: weakness.    And perhaps that is indicative enough of his truest fears, that he     cannot admit weakness, that he cannot admit fear, or humanity if he possesses any at all. Failure, in truth, is his greatest fear – rejection,     incompetence, impotence; he got a taste of it in the form of doubt, doubt     and the knowledge that his omnipotent darkness, that his overreaching     power has its limits. Fear that even he     is mortal, that even he can     fall to error. Antonin does not fear death; to fear death would be to fear     the skin into which he was born. But he does fear failure, as cliché as it sounds. Failure would     mean disappointment; failure would mean letting a legacy fall to ash and     ruin; failure would see a hall of proud portraits, proud men, proud names     to uphold, smolder, burn, and fall to irrelevance, disrepair, and shame. His boggart sees this, of     course; where Antonin assumed that he would face a boggart and see it shrug, it grows, expands to a     hundred times its size. It is a wonder that it fits in the room in which     it’s contained, upon facing Antonin, for where a nondescript shape once     stood, a burning manor now stands. A raven-haired woman (“Mama?”) falls into the ash,     clutching at diamonds with one hand and what remains of a picture frame     with the other. A hunched figure stands over her, a man, a familiar back     which has never shut him out until now. He calls out to them – to his     mother once, twice, thrice, then his father (but only once) – but they do     not turn, for they do not hear him.     Perhaps they choose not to – or perhaps they simply cannot fathom any     sound but the burning of their house, the dismantling of their great     legacy. And all because of him.

4) wand —     ELM; What is truly ironic about this     wand wood, in particular, is its reputation for never making mistakes.     When Antonin drew his first blood, committed his firstmurder, his mother, for a time, did     her very best to pass it off as a mistake, a misfire, a malfunction of the     trusty wand which was made to be     precise at all times. ‘Elm wands     never make mistakes’, Gregorovitch had said. Elm wands never make     mistakes – and they certainly never lie,     either. Antonin, of course, stood by his wand, and his choices, and     his actions which disproved his mother’s claims; there was no use lying     about something as honest as his wand, after all. And why would he lie?Shame is an unfamiliar sensation.     Elm is a particularly fitting wand for Antonin, in addition, because it     notoriously prefers wielders with innate purpose and dignity; an elegant     wand for an elegant purity, and highly capable of all that Antonin will     doubtlessly ask of it.

5) LITTLE BLACK BOOK; I know it’s cliché, and I know that it makes Antonin seem a bit too much like Joey Tribbiani for comfort, but he actually has a little black book of past conquests. A small leather booklet, he keeps it in a slide-away panel within the trunk at the end of his bed. It is a rather sordid little thing, with comments, notes, likes, dislikes, sweet spots all listed upon crisp pages. He writes in his thick book of consumed hearts with only the finest ink, and treats its maintaining like ritual. It grows more often than it remains stagnant, and has seen many a night alone in the common room, pages flipping near dangerously dripping candle wax, spine pressed open while ink dries; Antonin is a studious lover, and should he ever return to a past conquest, to a page in his book, he will know them like a well-memorized song. No one knows of this little black book, for he does not flaunt it, nor does he wish to share its contents with anyone. At times, he makes vague, suggestive, allusions to it, calling it his box of hearts, but those who listen simply assume that he is simply talking into the darkness to satisfy his own ego – little do they know, he has more than just intent.

6) MOTHER KNOWS BEST; Antonin is, for lack of a better phrase, a giant mama’s boy. His mother is his entire world; from the very beginning, he was more devoted to his mother than to anyone else. He’d pick her flowers from the garden (“From my garden, Ant? Those were mine to grow.”), follow her about during her rare afternoons spent painting in the solarium, and generally worship at her feet. Of course he loves his father unabashedly, but the love he feels for him is something more akin to fear for comfort. He feels a great deal of pressure in his father’s presence, but in his mother’s he feels nothing but warmth and encouragement. She was never a traditional mother, hardly giving him the outward affection so many other boys received, but even the slightest pat of approval atop his boyish head was reassurance enough. He would kill and be killed for his mother – she gave him life, and he would gladly give or take it at her command. He will build a legacy, an empire, and will build a castle at the heart of it all for his dear Mama.

7) WHEN THE ANIMALS SMELL A PREDATOR…; There was very little like time spent in the stables, amongst the horses, in the quiet of early dawn before the birds awake and the snow outside is greatly disturbed. Antonin is an accomplished equestrian, and knows a great deal about the care of horses and the technique associated with all equine areas of interest. He is quite fond of the steeplechase, and of hunting from horseback, but there is merit to a simple ride through the woods to clear one’s head; the horses are unjudging company who expect nothing of you, they are easily controlled for the most part, and they make Antonin feel innately powerful simply by being. Sitting astride a horse is elevating in more ways than one – but what is most notable, perhaps, is the way that, for the slightest moment, as Antonin pushes open the barn doors in a flurry of powder and cool air, the horses go silent. Horses are notoriously noisy, demanding creatures – but for just a moment, in a space no longer than a breath, a blink, a beat of the heart, they are entirely still, with big brown eyes upon him, watching, waiting. But then the noise resumes, for they know that this predator is on their side.

8) GOD HATES WITCHES; A small incident in the life of a magnate, an iron prince, a legacy in flesh, but a small one – on regular family trips to Moscow, he disappears for an hour at a time; his parents worry not for his whereabouts, for they know that he is more than capable of wielding the streets of Moscow on a tight leash. Upon the steps of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior he sits, black jacket billowing in formidable breeze, a cigarette between his lips and a smirk playing at their corners. It is a personal joke he shares with only himself; he once heard, as a boy, a man preaching on the steps of this very cathedral that all wielders of magic and might, anything contrary to the man’s God was an abomination, that should they step foot inside the cathedral, they would burn on the spot. And so he sits on the steps, tempting fate, tempting expectation, teasing the myth that so many muggles seem to believe so fervently. Of course he believes it not – but the symbolism, the irony, and the chance to smoke in the face of a deity is too much to pass up.

9) OF OLD KINGS AND DEAD REGIMES; Antonin’s favorite subject to study is history – history of magic, and certain facets of European muggle history, specifically. He has a collection of old history books hidden away beneath his bed, sorted into meticulous categorical piles; needless to say, he’s read through the lot of them time and time again, for they never cease to amaze and fascinate. Antonin has a particular proclivity for cruel kings and long-standing empires with bloody histories; his own family history is one that he knows like the back of his hand, their legacy of domination, terror, and omnipotence being something to behold and something not easily forgotten or passed over in the annals of magical history. He excels in History of Magic, though he, during his studies, was not the sort to openly speak out in class; his knowledge, no matter how insatiable and overreaching, is one best kept silent. His aloofness is only magnified by time spent alone in the library, reading by candlelight in his usual armchair, with quill between his teeth, and notebook and historical tomes spread on the table before him. He could list every king of every notable dynasty from the beginning of time – and he takes pride in the knowledge that his name will share a page with the lot of them soon enough.

10) NAME ANALYSIS:

ANTONIN: “beyond praise, priceless”; A fitting name for a boy of such high caliber. His ego and his expectation linger just above the clouds; Antonin was born to be great, to be praised, to dominate. He is priceless, he is without compare; his mother and father were fully aware of the connotations of their heir’s name, and he has certainly lived up to it thus far. Of course, he intends to go above and beyond the expectations laden upon his name, for he is beyond praise,and he is beyond compare.

SVIATOSLAV: “he who worships the light”; Antonin’s middle name is such for Czar Sviatoslav I of Kiev, who was known largely for his merciless and effective conquest of two of the greatest and most potent powers of Eastern Europe. He was known for his insistence upon being surrounded by nobles, and like, war-minded, individuals for the entirety of his adult life, and for his ceaseless determination to dominate in all fields. He was considered a decent ruler; very little is known about his personal life, as he was private in most things aside from his political campaigns, but persists in history as a key expander of the empire as a whole. Antonin, needless to say, is quite proud to flaunt such an accomplished name.

DOLOHOV: “of the Dolohov dynasty”; The Dolohov name is one that does not need explaining. The Dolohov name is one implicitly known, one feared and loved and revered – and rightfully so. The strength of the bloodline is paramount; the potency of the Dolohov name, the family tree and its ever-reaching roots, the legend riding upon the back of each patriarchal male born under such a name, is all that truly matters. Family and honor above self; pride and respect above personal ambition. The name comes first – the heart is secondary.

AESTHETIC

The sound of leather shoes on freshly waxed marble, chipped china shoved to the back of a dark cabinet, too-strong cologne, popped buttons on a crisp white shirt, velvet tassels with golden chain, bruises hastily covered with mother’s white powder, snow stuck to the bottom of a thick fur coat, the click of a lock overshadowed by a loud scream, hickeys in provocative places that never seem to fade, whiskey and honey in a silver flask, hidden tattoos in different languages, sitting still and stiff for a family portrait, blood splattered across snow, the groaning hull of a salty old ship, soft words reserved only for mother, history books in stacks upon old leather armchairs, halls and halls of portraits that never smile, the rush of adrenaline after giving a hard punch, a cigarette tipped between pouting lips, commanding fingers wrapped about a lily-white throat, the smell of sex on black silk, wine dribbling down a split lip. You are an old king in a new body, and you will devour their gods to make room for your own. You are loyal to your blood as it spills, infects, sublimes.

EXTRAS: 

- basically, he went to Durmstrang first, but was expelled because he got involved in some shady business that ended up getting a bunch of people hurt - but does he care?? noooo

- he’s a total playboy, and a charmer that’s more snake than charm; he’s loyal to voldemort, but his own interests always come first. he’s the ‘spoiled prince from russia’ who likes to have the violent kind of fun, and thinks that the sun shines out of his butt, basically 

- has an enormous Machiavelli complex. It makes him doubt if he should be a follower or not; and it makes him wonder if love is a waste of time, and if fear should replace it all

- he’s just !!!!!!!!! A DOUCHE !!!!!!!!!! but he’s fun and good in the sack so ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

- he’s also v bisexual (”my sexual preference is often”) and likes to drink people under the table. 

- currently working at the ministry, but mostly in an honorary position since the russian ministry really wants like... nothing to do with anything to do with anyone else. but he feels very uppity about being a ‘liaison’, for what it’s worth

- antonin dolohov is what happens when joey tribbiani goes to the upside down, thanks for coming to my ted talk 

[mollynotmargaret-blog]

hello hello !!  i’m reyna and i’m fuelled by iced coffee. i’ll be playing the lovely molly prewett -- i adore molly and i’m very excited to write her with my own twist, and of course with all you talented people! i love to plot and honestly am down for mostly anything so!!!! feel free to reach me through IMs if you’d like to chat or cook something up. let’s get down to business!! 

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ MOLLY PREWETT ] !  the muggles say she holds resemblance to [ LEE SUNG-KYUNG ]. the [ 24 ] year old [ CIS FEMALE ] was [ TRUSTING & KIND ] before the war, but have now become [ OVERBEARING & PARANOID ]. though they were once a part of [ GRYFFINDOR ], they have now taken up the position of a [ HEALER ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually [ A NEUTRAL, ORDER ALLY ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet. 

BASICS ! 

her name is molly -- just molly. try calling her margaret and she won’t give you the time of day.

born on the thirtieth of october, making her a scorpio.

gryffindor alumna.

her wand is nine inches long made of mahogany wood (strength, safety, protection), a unicorn core, and a springy build. 

golden retriever patronus ! 

the youngest of three siblings, three years behind twin brothers that are simultaneously her biggest headaches and fiercest loves. 

molly stands at five foot two inches of whoop ass. 

HISTORY ! 

TO BE LOVED. molly knew she was adopted as soon as she was old enough to understand — after all, she was starkly different from her parents and brothers, from the slant of her eyes to her stature and the way she always seemed to stand out. she doesn’t know much about her biological mother apart from the fact that she passed away not too long after her birth and the prewetts took her in soon after.  there was a fair bit of gossip that surrounded her adoption, everything from hushed whispers to biting remarks at social gatherings, questioning the legitimacy of her pureblood status because how would you know for certain after plucking your ‘daughter’ from stranger’s arms? the prewetts did their best to shield molly from these cruelties but they couldn’t shelter her from everything; for every tear shed there was a tight embrace, for every judgemental glance, they matched with proudly showing her as their bonafide and beloved daughter and sister. this was her first lesson in true, unconditional love, and she seeks to emulate it for the rest of her life.

ALL OF MY KINDNESS IS TAKEN FOR WEAKNESS. it’s easy to see molly, her stature, and baby face and think of her as all soft -- in reality, she’s a firecracker wrapped in cotton wool. unbeknownst to many, molly was a part of the duelling club in her years at hogwarts. she makes quite the formidable duellist given the chance (she insists she would rather not, laughing off her past passion with duelling as a mere hobby) — nowadays her wand work focuses primarily on healing magic and charms. 

BUT FIRST YOU MUST LIVE. molly cannot bring herself to join the order. martyrdom to a horrific war is something she just can’t justify, no matter how much she believes in the cause and loves the people out there on the front lines. every time she entertains the brave voice in her head that invites her to jump in the fray, her heart shouts i’m not strong enough, i haven’t even lived enough. there’s an entire life she has envisioned for herself; marriage, children, surrounded by all of her friends and family – safe and sound. however, molly also simply can’t put it all on the back burner, not when there’s so much at stake. she funnels her energy into being an ally to them, tending to their injuries and providing somewhere safe and warm for shelter. it frightens her to see her loved ones so willingly throwing themselves into the war, and it has become a terribly touchy subject.

AESTHETIC ! 

burning your tongue on a hot cup of tea, a house that truly feels like home, dancing barefoot on kitchen tiles, putting others’ needs before your own, standing on tiptoes, reassuring words spoken into existence, a lioness’ warning roar, clean dressings on a weeping wound, waking up to sunshine peeking through the windows, forehead kisses, tears of joy, tears of relief, tears of frustration, constant reminders to dress warm & eat well & be safe, off-tune lullabies composed on the spot, crossing fingers and toes for good luck, a white-knuckle grip, drizzling summer rain, to see the glass as perpetually half full, a love that never runs out.

inspo / associations: april kepner (grey’s anatomy), jane villanueva (jane the virgin), the goddess hestia (greek mythos), katara (atla). 

WANTED PLOTS / CONNECTIONS ! 

friends!!!!! give molly all the friends. she’ll be fussy and (s)mothering but dear god will she love you with all her might.

it’s always the ones who try to run away the farthest that get tangled up the worst. molly hates the thought of the war and what it’s done and continues to do -- she will help, she will care, but she will never get directly involved. she feels as though she has to be the one that stays grounded and clearheaded, not wrapped up in ideals of being a martyr, soldier, hero, or whatever else. molly wants to hold her own, protect all of her loved ones and keep them safe and sound. talk to her about the war, dig a little deeper -- also an open invitation for trouble to come find her. 

let her patch you up after a mission / tussle / miscellaneous injury. it’s essentially guaranteed you’ll get an earful about being more careful next time, though. 

assumed connections are also!!!!! very much welcome. friends / old friends / old flames (woot!) / person(s) of dislike / etc ! 

[colovariias-blog]

* GANG GANG GANG *  it’s lily , i’m 20 and a capricorn ( important ) and i clearly don’t know what i’m doing ––– but fuck wit me anyway !! i’m on a 70′s music binge rn and if you wanna come and talk to me about eric clapton OR if u wanna.. u know .. plot .. u can hit me up on d*scord at mattybraps official#8735 ( hide your girlfriend... i’m headed out for the day ) ––– under the cut you will find all the info that i should’ve put on my bio page but didn’t :^) enjoy !

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ AMELIA BONES ] !  the muggles say she holds a resemblance to [ EIZA GONZALEZ ]. the [ 26 ] year old [ CISFEMALE ] was [ BRAVE & CARING ] before the war, but have now become [ AUSTERE & JADED ]. though they were once a part of [ HUFFLEPUFF ], they have now taken up the position of a [ AUROR ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PURE-BLOOD ] is actually [ NEUTRAL ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet. 

          i. amelia is the youngest of the bones siblings ––– a wizarding family originating from sunny méxico !! and by originating i do mean g e n e r a t i o n s back ,, they’re a long-established pureblood family ( not blood-purists though. major key ) within the british wizarding society

          ii. most people who knew amelia from back in school may still remember her as a very sweet girl, brave and caring without ever letting herself be trampled on –– believing in that noble notion of  ‘  better to have been betrayed than never have trusted  ’  which uhhhh yeah that’s not how she rolls anymore but ! it’s important okay . she was the embodiment of a capable hufflepuff girl, house pride & good behavior. fucking #tbt 

          iii. because of her work ethic and talent, her teachers suggested that she should pursue a career as an auror which, in all honesty, was never really something she considered ,, she knew she wanted to work for the ministry, one way or another, but she never thought she had  ‘  it  ’  in her ––– whatever it was. but as it turns out, you can get very far on work ethic and determination !!

          iv. the thing is , her parents weren’t stoked about this. they already had edgar going around trying to do good, and while they recognized that what amelia was doing was commendable, they didn’t want her in the line of fire. she’s still their youngest, their littlest girl & prized company. amelia went through with the auror training anyway, spitefully sticking to it even when she felt out of her depth

          v. now, years later, she’s one of the aurors working through perhaps the greatest crisis in ministry history –––– bureaucracy is a nightmare as is, imagine trying to manage everything as the proverbial ship is rapidly sinking. her office is a mess of papers, her apartment looks the part of a bachelor pad which sees more quick in and out visits than it does peaceful nights at home, and her parents are more worried than ever 

          vi. but amelia’s years as an auror has changed her, from naive and insecure to capable and austere. she’s headstrong, a formidable duellist, and still, inevitably, scared. though she may have realized some time ago that shutting everyone out and locking yourself into work won’t help her, she’s yet to figure out what might provide her with some peace of mind in these trying times 

           vii. not to say that she’s gloomy or anything,, she’s just very acutely aware of the turmoil around her, even though she hasn’t managed to grasp the full extent of it all yet. she still loves to hit the pub every now and then ... sip some drinks ... bump some jams ... you know

          viii. she only recently started being more open about her support for bagnold for minister of magic ––– amelia is not a fan of talking politics

           ix. what she is a fan of is books, animals, fucking.. candles i guess. idk . she likes MOST THINGS tbh she’s just needlessly edgy about it unless you call her out. 

          x. is she a pessimist ? cynic ? probably not really, but she sure acts like it ! a poor man’s rust cohle from true detective meets .. samwise gamgee .. i guess??? like she’d carry frodo up the mountain and fucking kill gollum but she’d be an asshole about it 

          xi. forest jasmine. weathered vintage fringe suede jackets. messy, high ponytails and raspberry-stained lips. eyes watering in the sunlight. crime and punishment.  knee-length boots. a commanding presence; capable and self-assured. desperate times calling for desperate measures. hufflepuff pride.

[rosetamed-blog]

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ DOMITIUS ROSIER ] !  the muggles say he holds resemblance to [ DAN STEVENS ]. the [ THIRTY-ONE ] year old [ CISMALE ] was [ RESOURCEFUL & DEVOTED ] before the war, but have now become [ ADAMANT & IMPATIENT ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of an [ OBLIVIATOR ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually [ AN ORDER MEMBER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

after spending the whole day ( quite literally ) suffering and looking for themes and trying to get my shit together, HERE I AM? QUITE LATE? I’M SORRY? anYHOW, hello! i’m jae ( s/h ), currently in my mid-20s crisis, proud ravenclaw and absolutely trash can. i’m also in that timezone that rarely someone else is ( brt, or gmt-3 ) and you will see me online in different and weird hours since my working schedule? will soon? not be very fixed? bUT I WILL BE HERE A LOT ANYWAYS. y’all will notice i am overly excited about a lot of shit almost all the freaking time and rarely remember to turn off the caps lock. very sorry for that already. under the cut you can find some crack version of dom’s hcs ( which you can read for reals here, if you like more extensive and well explained stuff! ).

** i will continue to read other intros soon and also go on everyone’s ims soon, so pls like this post if you’d like to plot with my trash and traitor son.

he is a rosier and you all can guess what this means — one of the 28th, “important”, family pride, and stuff. ya know... dom had it all, and he ACTUALLY was proud of his name? like, very full of himself and very narcissist, he really was very prejudiced and rich fuckboy vibe.

poor were the souls who crossed his path in hogwarts, truly?? he was a freaking nightmare to be around, a bully, with some heavy pranks. he also wouldn’t hesitate at calling people out on their blood status bc he was like that.

his relation with his dad was quite poor, so that adds on his wanting to be a troublemaker.

ah, of course, how could i forget... he has anger issues. so like?? can you imagine him when he is mad? because i can, and it ain’t pretty, kids. i’m 110% sure he got into physical fights even with “friends” when he was younger.

truth be told, had things not turned badly for him, it’s possible he would still be on that same path and be a death eater. but things DID turn badly for him and yet?? it was good?? plot twist indeed.

so, when dom was around 21, he had an incident. more like a planned attack tbh — remember when i said he was a bully? so, yeah, one of the bullied decided to make him pay lmao: he was attacked by a werewolf and everything went downhill ( in theory ) from then on.

you see... domitius loved his face ( i mean... me too boy... ) and? scars? across his face? his body? Not Pleased at all. he got even worse on his anger issues, not gonna lie. but ya know who wasn’t up for his shitty behaviour? elizabeth hepburn. so not up for his shit she actually managed to put him in his place, wow *claps* you go girl

elizabeth was basically this very very pretty healer who “tamed” him, and the cherry on the top: a muggleborn LMAO, and of course he HAD to fall for the girl, bc trashy boy. he is terrible but i suppose he has a heart that could be cured bc here he is now:

not dead, not a werewolf, very heart eyes at his wife ( yeah, he married lizzie, bc when you find a woman who can kick your ass and put you in your place, you marry her ), very amused with their children... and what about his pureblood prejudiced family? well... THEY say domitius was disowned and kicked out of the family and is far from welcome there. but TRUTH IS he was the one to walk away first. he is still called a traitor to those who know the rosiers but is very chill and sipping his tea about that tbh ( actually burning in rage on the inside, but he gotta to keep himself in control after all )

he current lives with his wife, children and muggle father-in-law. actually happy with this settling? his prejudiced ass fell in love for muggle stuff, man, it is Amusing to say the least. so much he enjoys his job as an obliviator to a whole new level.

he is sided with the order for both being dragged by lizzie and because he has to defend the only family who cares for him, hasn’t he? BUT I’M PRETTY SURE NOT EVERYONE TAKES HIM SERIOUSLY, i mean, he is a rosier and a former slytherin, and straight up bullied muggleborns and halfbloods through at least 65% of his life... this combination doesn’t seem very... order profile, right? so i would LOVE people from the order who doubts him and doesn’t trust him. give me thiS, PLS?

also open to any connections, so come @ me

idk what else to say tbh, i would strongly advice you to read my serious and actual stuff bc this is shitty and written half asleep so like... Mess.

[alvvayspure-blog]

hello & good evening everyone ! my name is monse, and i have been awarded the privilege of writing with you. this is bellatrix ( bella, for short ) and so under the cut you’ll be able to find more details about her. here you can find her pinterest board and her musings blog. // EDIT: i love plotting, and chances are that i’ll be down to write mostly anything. i’d love to flesh out connections, i’m super chill with going witht he flow, i’m happy to write your own plot ideas -- like i said, i’m happy to write a lot of things ! i’ll be contacting you ( probs tomorrow ??? ) but still, if you’d like for us to plot, HIT ME UP ! feel free to send something through the ask box or tumblr dms, or discord ( monse / bella 🕷#7358 )

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ BELLATRIX BLACK ] !  the muggles say she holds resemblance to [ CRYSTAL REED ]. the [ 29 ] year old [ CIS-FEMALE ] was [ SKILLFUL &  PERSEVERANT ] before the war, but have now become [ MALICIOUS & UNBALANCED ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of a [ METAL CHARMER ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually [ A DEATH EATER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

                                                                                    𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆...  

( THE BASICS )

.—  name: bellatrix black

.— age: 29 years old

.—  wand: 12¾", walnut, with a core of dragon heartstring

.— profession: metal charmer working at some dodgy establishment in magical london. however, it’s a mere mask used to keep suspicions away -- the only ‘position’ she dedicates herself to is that of a death eater, she’s fully committed to the group.

.— amortentia: humidity, copper, old wood

.— height: 1.73

.— gender: cis-gender female

.— sexuality: pansexual demiromantic ( but closeted due to her family’s beliefs )

.—  previous house: slytherin.

.— boggart: the two most important male figures in her life ( her father & her master ) being disappointment at her

.—  patronus: * is unable to produce one *

( THE AESTHETIC )

.— moonlight seeping in through dark curls ; black velvet ; sharp citrus perfume ; bruised and bloody knuckles ; ‘you’re better than them’ muttered into a young girl’s ear as her mother combs her hair ; laughter echoing down a dimly lit hall; dark shades of lipstick ; wood burning in a fireplace ; smirks that whisper ‘i know something you never will’ ; cold, empty rooms ; self-made haircuts ; thunderstorms ; a hatred for all things sweet ; a beckoning void ; dimly lit alleyways ; taste of copper in the mouth ; mysterious knocks in the middle of the night ; curling your hands into fists to keep the tears from falling ; a sheltered heart ; the chilling glint of a pair of eyes amidst the darkness ; your father’s daughter ; ‘you’re purer than them ’ ; heels hitting the elegant marble floors ; ignoring opinions foreign to your own ; a mother’s disappointed looks ; boxes and boxes of jewels that will rot away with rust ; the smell of the burning tapestry on the wall ; deceitful grins ; ‘i’m better than them’ ; treasuring the sister you’ve got left as though she’d been the only one from the beginning ; feeling as though there were something lurking in the shadows ; a starless charcoal night sky ; inked skin ; power’s taste so fresh and addictive on the tongue ; mocking thoughts and voices clouding one’s mind right before going to bed ; a child infected by her parents ambitious ; bottles and bottles of liquor kept inside the night table drawer ; ringed agile fingers with ; black lace ; dead flowers ; and candles on bedside table ; the smell of incense ; the half-moons engraved on the palms ; eyes that were raised never to cry ; talk back, get slapped ; long dark gowns ; ‘ always pure, always better ’ ; wicked sisterly love ; unparalleled devotion ; blood before family.

( THE HEADCANONS )

.— you were the firstborn, the eldest daughter, the one to set the examples. that didn’t mean your parents’ slaps on the cheek and disappointed gazes hurt any less. you came first, and although many would think it’s the firstlings who experience new parents’ clumsy mistakes, this wasn’t your case - you were modeled after what your parents believed in, shaped to their liking by feeding you their wicked ideology like it was gospel. they vowed to raise you as perfectly as possible, and perfect was pure. “don’t mingle with them, bella. you’re better than them,” your mother said to you over and over, and although young, you were perfectly able to see past the soft, motherly tone and absorb the warning, the so-called ‘truth’ you’d follow later on in your life. your upbringing was stained by opulence and wealth, your family displaying you and your sisters like rosy-cheeked porcelain dolls. your father’s daughter, you became far too much like him. your youth was not yours, but his and your mother’s to mold like clay. you frequented balls and events with your family, gatherings you’d never care for or worry over. this was the only good you knew, the only truth, so you never blamed them for what you turned out to be, for what they turned you into. much too absorbed by the mirk, your distraught urges caught up with you - but you let them. you let your shadow friends embrace you and carry you. the darkness was light to you - so tempting, so satisfying to the touch, so addictive -,  and so you’d eventually make your home amidst the fog.

.— ever since you were young, you’ve always shown brilliant skills in whatever it is that caught your attention. your parents enrolled you in violin, harp, and piano lessons. it was a matter of a handful of years before you were playing like the most prodigious of musicians. you mastered italian and french, and calligraphy. you began displaying signs of magic at an early age - flickering lights, shattering vases with a look -, and so your parents could not be prouder at the sight. you’d always been talented, skillful, and determined to excel at whatever you got your hands on, so it was only expected of you to thrive during the time you were to study at hogwarts. you had an enviable knack for charms and transfiguration. admittedly, your parents never doted nor coddled, but you found pride and fulfillment in the envy projected by your fellow classmates’ eyes. your mother’s words were a self-fulfilled prophecy: you were better than them, after all. 

.— you couldn’t shrug off that mixture of frustration and confusion when you first managed to boil a successful amortentia potion. your classmates were in awe, describing scents like poppy flowers, cinnamon bread, cardamom – all you smelled was humidity. similar to the scent of moist soil, you couldn’t help but feel perplexed at the scent. it seemed miserable, dull. you managed to pick up other smells - old wood, like the one your family’s piano was made of, and copper – you were annoyed, mostly because you couldn’t comprehend what these scents indicated, and secondly, because you felt as though they lead you nowhere. to this day, the smells haven’t changed, yet you’re still puzzled by it.

.— you’ve been known as one to have a short-temper, but nothing had set you off like the inability to produce a corporeal patronus did. you felt the others’ gazes engraved on you as you tried and tried to achieve it during class, each attempt more frustrating than the previous one. you took in a deep breath each time. your mind always projected an image of your family - so noble, so strong, the only support you knew and had -, of your mother. you saw her singing to you as you practiced the piano, yet the memory soon became bitter, as it was followed by her getting upset at your mistakes and scolding you to no end. you thought of your father, the powerful, intelligent man he was and the massive shadow he cast on your path, yet all you could think of were his words about those less pure than you, words expressed at every gathering, words him and his inner circle constantly shared and nourished you with. you thought of your sisters, of andy and cissy, the three of you playing outside your family home. nothing seemed to be enough, and so after what seemed like an infinite number of attempts, you ended up throwing your wand across the room. many years later you tried, the first two memories resurfacing and soon becoming stained by the torment that followed those moments, yet you landed in the same place. now you couldn’t think of your siblings without feeling disgust for andromeda take over you, her carelessness, stupidity, and stubbornness costing you a sister. the image of her would be forever stained, and so you found yourself out of memories to use to try cast the spell effectively. you treasured your youth, you weren’t raised an unhappy child – were you? you told this to yourself over and over, and for a couple of moments, it eased the sting of pain failure had left you with.

.— a boggart managed to sneak into the garden adjacent to your family’s house one afternoon, while you and your sisters were out enjoying the pleasant weather. it hid behind a nearby bush, catching your attention. you didn’t scream when you saw, you simply froze, too consumed by fear to move or make a sound: you saw your father’s figure, with bloodshot eyes that showed the clearest shades of disappointment and hatred, his head shaking in discontent. “i thought we’d compromised, bella,” he said, approaching you in a way you found menacing and terrifying. “i thought we’d agreed you’d do your part…” and right then, the monster before lounged forwards, making you lose your balance and fall down. the creature seemed confused, changing form in a tornado-like way, and it was until you turned to look at one of your sisters, who had just approached and had managed to throw the boggart off. you shrugged off their worried inquiries and pushed the memory to the recondite of your mind. years later, however, the two of you met again: it’d hidden in an old, dusty closet, and so as you unknowingly went to open the door, the figure stepped outside. it wasn’t your father anymore, however. it was a different silhouette, with different features, the creature no longer taking after the man who’d fathered you. it was no stranger, and this time, you found yourself slipping and crawling away from it in the most pathetic manner. you whimpered like an injured animal as tears welled up in your eyes. “i thought we’d compromised, bella,” it was the same sentence you’d heard as a teenager, that day in the garden with your sisters, but before stood the man you’d developed a fascination toward, the man who’d managed to corrupt you more than your family ever did, the man who’d implanted himself amidst your thoughts and ideas, the man you were completely and utterly devoted to, the man you referred to as your lord. the distorted features showed you nothing but disapproval and discontent, the pale, waxy skin glimmering and planting fear in your heart in a way you’d never experience. you sobbed until a foreign noise sent it storming out of the room, your limbs still shriveling. 

.— there must be something in the water, or rather, in the way children of the black and lestrange families are raised, something that plants in them an attraction to the dark. despite having a seemingly-calm exterior throughout your earliest years, you always knew there was darkness inside of you. like a void holding what you desired the most, whispering to catch your attention and draw you in, you grew up with a fascination with matters that were too complex and far too obscure for a girl your age. your family made no effort to cease these thoughts, but rather, they fostered them, encouraging you to believe in exactly the same things as they did: purity and destruction. it was a matter of time before your malice bloomed - you were shoving your playmates aside, finding amusement in their suffering; you’d stare at the hues in the bruises and scratches you gave yourself in fights and duels, much too amazed at the unnerving yet pulchritudinous allure. it was the force and power you exercised over others, the thought of your judgment determining their state and place, that what you’d always lacked and thus that you could not resist upon getting the opportunity to experience. it was the electricity to the pain what kept your heart beat fast and your temples pounding & what caused you to develop a tolerance and fascination for it. you’d find ways to entertain yourself and encourage the growth of this evil within you, and so it was no surprise you joined the death eaters upon leaving hogwarts.  

( MISC. )

character inspirations: anakin skywalker ( star wars ), elena de la vega ( zorro ), elizabeth swan ( pirates of the caribbean ), nebula ( guardians of the galaxy ), harley quinn ( dc comics ), o-ren ishii and gogo yubari ( kill bill ), magenta and riff-raff ( the rocky horror picture show ), count olaf ( asoue )

TO BE CONTINUED...

[mericmulciber]

evening, everyone —- i’m grey (cst, he/him). stoked to be a part of a harry potter roleplay ??? i’ve always loved this fandom, but never had the courage to indulge in it so deeply. i fully expect to drown, and i’m okay with it. i will be playing two characters, but my main creep is mr. meric mulciber. a problematic, patricidal death eater whose claim to fame is leading a nefarious merchants guild with interest in supplying the public and underground markets with dark, dangerous curios. oh —- he’s also a werewolf smh. 

** IF YOU’RE INTERESTED IN WRITING WITH ME OR CAUSING TROUBLE WITH MERIC, PLEASE HIT ME UP !!

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ MERIC MULCIBER ] !  the muggles say he holds resemblance to [ MILO VENTIMIGLIA ]. the [ 38 ] year old [ MALE ] was [ DOGGED & RESOLUTE ] before the war, but have now become [ RUINOUS & UNPREDICTABLE ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of a [ VENTURE CAPITALIST ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually [ A DEATH EATER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet. 

( A E S T H E T I C )

he is the devil-gleam of still water. something dark and nameless moving in the deep. he is the black banks of crooked rills where river’s silt washes bones clean. he is the guttural, bending note of a lonesome howl ringing, spectral and suspended, over the unvisited swales. he is patricide and broken picture frames. he is regret and calculated self-loathing. in the chambers of his heart, there are curios and contraband that twinkle dully; there is an inventoried mayhem, glass shelves lined with telestic treasures, each tagged and priced with nefarious intent. peeling damask and stained wainscoting line corridors stretching longer than shadow, and he is the lycanthrope that paces them. the rooms of his home are lonely and soundless as tombs and the blank spaces echo the voices of pureblooded spirits. timepieces keep measured time. black loam adheres to monstrous paws, leather jackets hide rising hackles and scars. through swarming, beating wings bleeds the milk white of a vacant sky —- and the dark mark calls him. he is no man’s thrall, but he is no man at all.

( P A R T I C U L A R S )

✗. patronus: black stallion. ✗. wand: blackthorn, unicorn core, 11 3/4″, brittle flexibility. ✗. amortentia: motor oil & mint & black leather & petrichor. ✗. height: 6′. ✗. sexuality: demi-romantic pansexual. ✗. house: slytherin. ✗. boggart: his mother’s impending descent into madness.

( H E A D C A N O N S )

i. meric murdered his father for his infidelity and for his constant physical and mental abuse. he was 14 years old. edgard hoof, house mulciber’s very loyal servant, helped him cover up the murder, but the reality of it did not come without consequences. though his mother, igora, professed her forgiveness, her soft mind and sensibilities have begun to cave over time. she now lives in rural england in her family’s cottage and though meric tries to coddle her and keep her safe from harsh realities, it’s only a matter of time before she loses herself to madness.

ii. the merchants of death is the name of his notorious merchant’s guild. he leaves most of the bookkeeping to edgard, but still calls the shots. he has a small group of witches and wizards in his employ that scour the natural world for powerful ( forgotten ) wonders he can sell for a high price. they report to him with their findings and his merchants place them discreetly on their dusty shelves. his clientele are desperate and greedy. 

iii. meric has a small fascination with muggle cars and motorcycles. this isn’t something he openly shares with anyone, but he has a garage where he stores and tinkers on them. when he feels all eyes are off of him, he enjoys taking long rides through the country.

iv. his work as a death eater feels natural. while he doesn’t like being a pawn or feeling like he has to answer to someone else ( it goes quite harshly against his personal, moral code ) it proves a great outlet for the darkness that lives inside of him —- a passenger, an entity, a spectral being that follows him. there is some cognitive dissonance here, but he prefers to indulge in the less human parts of himself as it is far less painful for engaging with the parts of him he buried alive long ago.

v. being a werewolf was something he resented at first. he has now accepted it and relishes in the excuse to lose himself in the glare of a full moon. this reality no longer feels like an illness or an affliction but a part of who he is.

TBC.

[chosebravery]

me, late? you can (troy bolton vc) bet on it!!!!11!1

good morning / afternoon / evening, my children. my name is tea (or t, or anything you want; s/h pronouns) and i have been struggling with a flu for over a week now and things,,,have been difficult but i'm going to power through because i already adore this rp (the writers in here are no joke???) and i ought to present yall my daughter. i will babble a lil about her under the cut and if you want me to reach you out, like this post!!

 * △ — the dark lord has targeted [ ELIZABETH ROSIER NEE HEPBURN ] !  the muggles say she holds resemblance to [ ALICIA VIKANDER ]. the [ TWENTY EIGHT ] year old [ female ] was [ WARM & HELPFUL ] before the war, but have now become [ STUBBORN & SELF RIGHTEOUS ]. though they were once a part of [ GRYFFINDOR ], they have now taken up the position of a [ HEALER ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ MUGGLEBORN ] is actually [ AN ORDER MEMBER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

the only child out of a quite unlucky couple, elizabeth was born in a household where people made gold out of grass. her parents were poor and unfortunate, but they loved each other--her father still claims so, even after her mother's passing when the girl was just three. mr. hepburn's optimism was what supported them--that and his gig at a pawn/repair shop at linlithgow; while he went on that and any part times he could find to keep up rent and put his daughter through school, said girl would be at home, holding onto what needed to hold and distracting herself with tales of other worlds.

as the daughter of an immigrant and an outsider, elizabeth grew to be peculiar, standing out from the rest of the people in the small town she came to live on after her mother’s passing. on the mid fifties, on a scottish town where nothing happened, people didn’t take very kindly to strangers disrupting their routine, but it was where elizabeth was to grow nevertheless; with a few years, name calling was something she learned to become unfazed by. despite however isolated and shunned she was then, she never imagined the magic of her books could become reality--the butterflies in her stomach were both of excitement and nervousness, a mix of feelings she would come to feel many times over the rest of her life. for good or bad, she was different (and this, too, would follow her for the rest of her life).

when her letter came, what she assumed to be a well conceited prank turned out to be her new astonishing reality. as she went through a wall and boarded a train, she was both terrified and amazed.

soft spoken, quiet and isolated, with a preference for long books and a tendence for distraction, elizabeth hepburn was hardly the model person for a gryffindor--she didn't think of herself courageous when the hat was placed on her head either, but there are all kinds of courage in this world, she was told. in the seven years to follow she had never watched injustice go free, nor she backed out when someone (anyone) needed her; beneath honey and unfailing kindness, in moments necessary, her voice was like thunder and her will unbreakable.

of course, sometimes it wavered--many were the times she almost gave up the wonderful magical castle when she thought of her father, all alone. he has refused this many times: she was meant for something more than a small town with ordinary people who did not appreciate her, mr. hepburn would tell her.

those years away at hogwarts installed a tradition of very long letters, written at least twice by week--flowery, extensive and very descriptive, they are still kept to this day by the old hepburn, and its sight is enough to make the daughter blush and smile sheepish. she is a sight when excited, all who know her know her passion.

her career in “wizard medicine” was a suggestion by a professor, who was aware of her excelling in herbology and potions, and her people skills (ironically, since she, then, was not the most social kid & her willingness to socialize and reach out was belated). despite over ten years working on st mungo, she still aspires for something more; her husband & her shares a dream to open a book shop of their own, but due to more pressing events, it keeps being pushed forward.

she married domitius on the spring of 72, about 26 months after they bonded while she nursed him back to health. her interest in men -- or relationships in general -- had been nonexistent until then, so it was a surprise not only for his prejudiced pureblooded family but also for those who knew elizabeth. regardless, she claims he is first her best friend, her soulmate, then her husband--he is also father of her children: five year old twins daniel and isolde & little cosette, not much older than a year old. if you catch fictional characters names in there, you’re spot on (she is a nerd even as a mom, yes--fitting too, as her own name had come from the iconic austen heroine).

currently she works at the janus thickey ward as its healer in charge, although her presence is often required on the dai llewellyn ward due to her experience with some incidents’ injuries; it’s not uncommon to see her reading the newspapers, books and letters to the patients.

however, it has been over a year since she last stepped on st mungo. her youngest child was born on early 1978, so elizabeth has been on maternity leave since then; as much as she loves her children (and she does, overwhelmingly so), the life of a stay at home mother does not agree with her anxiety so she is very eager to return to her routine, even if it means she has to stay away from her children for more than she wished she would--she takes as advantage her father is so good with them, and always willing to crash in their spare bedroom.

she is virtually incapable of staying still--if not with her nose in a book, it’s likely she is walking around, doing whatever needs to be done around wherever she is (and this does not only apply to her own house, much to her friend’s dismay). her nervous tics include tapping her fingers, tucking her hair behind her ears and biting her lips; fiddling with her clothes and her wand also apply so it’s not uncommon she is keen to hold people’s hands to prevent the anxiety to be too transparent.

elizabeth’s ethical code is incorruptible, which is one of the main causes for any friction she may create with others--another would be her inability to stay still in face of wrongdoing; blindly, she will not admit she is a bit of a nosy judgmental holier-than-thou. thankfully (debatable for some), all that makes her just right to fight for the order.

elizabeth has an intimate knowledge of muggle mechanics, due to her father’s main line of work during her childhood years; even now, when she has lived most of her life in the wizard world, she is still curious and eager to learn and be connected with the muggle world and often finds herself doing things the muggle way.

EXTRAS (ish):

she is a saggitarius!! which is not what people first think of her, but elizabeth is just like um don’t judge a book by its cover ok. but i don’t blame people who take her as a virgo because ya know, girl is kinda....very virgo lmao (it is her ascendant anyways shhh). she was also born on 1950, which makes her a grandma tiger; she graduated hogwarts on 1968 (i don’t think there’s anyone who could have been classmates w her but,,,i’d die for this so pls bring me more old people!!!)

her wand is made of laurel wood & phoenix feather; it is quite bendy and is 10 3/4 in size. overall, i found it all very fitting!! laurel wands are said unable to perform a dishonorable act, and it does not accept lazy owners, who are often on a quest for glory -- it combines rather well with the flexibility, fitting for a woman who can not stand still / doing nothing / saying nothing for more than ten minutes.

her patronus is a weasel! people with this patronus tend to be ruled by instincts and very intuitive, and to be polite, honest and hardworking. (source)

her amortentia’s scents are old manuscripts (she is passionate about books, but she adores old editions because of how personal they are), fresh ink (she is often writing something, and always carries both quills and muggle pens with herself), the first batch of bread of the day (she just,,,loves bread. it is a very nostalgic scent for her, remeting from her childhood), geer oil (her father is a mechanic, and often she helped him), chamomile (known for its calming effects, the rosier plants chamomile in their garden & it is elizabeth’s husband to go choice of tea).

talking about scents, homegirl often smells of herbs. her husband keeps telling her she smells so good and like, yeah, he is cheesy as hell, but i’m pretty sure she does smell like heaven.

also about scents: she hates coffee and is the founder of coffee sucks society ™ . expect dissertations about this on my writing.

pretty much all else i can say / know about her are on the many profiles i’ve sent on my app. you can find them here if you don’t mind the length ( 1, 2, 3, 4) & her aesthetics here + a weheartit collection (aint nobody got time for that other site) here.

[fracturcs-blog]

lmaooo. i’m so late fml aslkjksldk OKAY HI HELLO i’m snow and i’ll be playing the grumpiest grouchiest detective with a case of emotional constipation bc slytherin capricorns amirite. i’ll post the rest of my app below the cut and dive into the intro tag and message y’all for plots <33

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ THABIT COLTON ] !  the muggles say he holds resemblance to [ XAVIER DOLAN ]. the [ 26 ] year old [ AGENDER ] was [ FOCUSED & AMBITIOUS ] before the war, but has now become [ PARANOID & PESSIMISTIC ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of a [ DETECTIVE AT THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT, AURORS’ OFFICE, INVESTIGATIONS DIVISION. ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ HALF-BLOOD ] is actually [ NEUTRAL ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet. ( snow, 21, gmt+3, she/her. )

HEADCANONS

⁂ name analysis :  

Thabit Colton.

Thabit -- a name that fit him like a bell, like a crown, like a shackle. Fixed, still, unchanging. For someone whose sights are ever set upwards, whose aspirations are always bigger, bigger, bigger, who’s always looking for ways to step up the proverbial ladder and take the prize set atop, Thabit’s stubborn pride and unmoving will have kept him from change. Kept him from moving, from changing, from budging -- he is a prodigy, that is true, a clever mind scarcely seen in this day and age, catching onto meanings and turning variables about and reaching conclusions many would flounder at for hours, but his thick skull and rooted pride have kept him from truly evolving, as a person, despite his many achievements and accomplishments in his field of work.

Colton --  A clearly british name that flows crookedly juxtapositioned with his first: clunky, he feels, when introducing his full name, even now as he’s reached his twenty-seventh year of life. Thabit Colton, half arabian and half british and it feels, to him, as though he is constantly in a battle with identity, as though he is always half something and half not, introducing himself as Colton with the professional air his occupation requires, introducing himself as Thabit when the air is not tense, when he is able to breath long and quiet and not pull his muscles so tautly all the time. Despite this, he is very fond of the culture his mother’s side of the family brings, perhaps more so than he was supposed to be -- the black and white movies she liked to watch so much, the arabian music she played in the background as she relaxed with a glass of wine at the end of a long day, the rice and grape leaves she’d prepared them when they were younger, the trips back to egypt they went on whenever they’d get the chance. it was all a part of him growing up, and he had loved every bit of it. Hesitantly, as though he was stealing sweets from a hidden jar that was not meant for him, but he loved it nonetheless.

⁂ gender and pronouns :

Thabit is agender, though he is yet unaware of this fact. Thus far he/him are the only pronouns he’d considered for himself and it’d be much too long before he would even begin to toy with other options. The concept of ‘gender’ had always been lost on him, like a dark void he can never see beyond but can only speculate at -- he knew the anatomy and the biology of gender, but what that meant for how people “should” act and interact with one another and how it affects the relationships of people had always been a mystery to him. He is frequently irritated by this, as he is always adamant in knowing things, but social constructs and behavior have never set well with him and he had always found it difficult to relate to his binary peers.

⁂ sexuality :

Thabit is demisexual, panromantic. The only times he had ever felt sexual attraction, it was towards someone who he’d developed an emotional attachment to beforehand, and even then his desire for sex had been inconsistent. He is not a particularly romantic individual and has an aversion of intimate relationships of any kind, growing distrustful of affectionate gestures that come from anyone not within his immediate family -- gender is not a factor in how he chooses romantic partners, however.

⁂ blood status :

halfblood. His mother is a muggleborn witch of egyptian heritage, his father is a white british wizard born to a pureblood family. Being a halfblood might’ve been easier on his brother, surrounded as he was with yellows and blacks, but Slytherin provided little room for self acceptance -- Thabit is at once proud of his halfblood status and ashamed of it. He knows his blood has no bearing on his skills and talents and he wastes no opportunity proving this to all those around him. he is rather attached to the culture his mother’s side of the family brings, the tv and the radio and the grounded, solid presence of unmoving photographs. He will not, however, discuss his blood status with anyone, it remaining a sensitive topic he continues to avoid, and will carefully not disclose his parentage to strangers upon their first meeting. or their second. or their third. he’d probably never mention it until you do in all honesty.

⁂ sorting :

Slytherin. This had proven itself to be difficult due to his halfblood status, made more so by his older brother’s placement in hufflepuff, but Thabit’s stubborn pride and relentless ambition would not steer him any other direction -- the Hat’s call did not linger, it’s decision made in mere seconds and leaving the eleven year old reeling upon the stool. he’d prepared so completely to be placed in ravenclaw. It had taken time for him to grow proud of his placement in Slytherin, but the first few weeks have been difficult, to say the least.

⁂ allegiance :

Neutral. Thabit’s views align more alongside the order’s, but his self-preservation and the dangers being an explicit part of this war posed on not only himself, but his family as well, is enough to keep him standing rigidly to the side of the conflict -- despite his line of work throwing him too close to the fire, he still holds fast to the state of neutrality and keeps his co workers at a distance. he is unsure how many of them are a part of this war, and less sure which part they would be on.

⁂ birthdate & zodiac :

December 31st, 1953. Thabit is the least spiritually inclined individual one would find and he will deny this to his dying breath, but the zodiac sign his birth falls under is as accurate as a sign could ever be --- capricorn, sign of the goat. Ambitious, and disciplined, and reserved. Pessimistic, practical, obsessive. These are traits that are so deeply ingrained in him it would be impossible for him to have been born under any other sign.

⁂ occupation :

Detective at the department of Magical Law Enforcement, Aurors’ Office, Investigations Division.

Perhaps there’d been traces of fancy yet to be found in 17-year-old Thabit’s mind, and perhaps the secret wish to be admired and looked up to as more than merely a half-blood Slytherin with a sharp wit and sharp tongue, the secret desire to be liked and to be regarded as something of a heroic figure, is part of what’s led him to where he is now. He’d entered the auror training program at the age of 18, eyes sharp with focus and jaw clenched against rising nerves. He graduated in two years, becoming an official auror at the age of 20, but it wasn’t long into his work on the field before he was moved to the department of investigation, his superior finding his skills better put to use elsewhere.

To say he is hardworking would be a gross understatement -- workaholic, married to the job, obsessed with the success of his career. He puts all his effort and passion into his work and has built his life surrounding it, has gained himself a reputation for being relentless and focused in his pursuits, had thrived on the respect this had garnered him among his colleagues -- he remains an unpleasant individual, however, and while he is respected for his skills and accomplishments he is hardly liked. Not that it matters to him, anyway.

AESTHETIC

Long robes that swing at the ankles; long nights bent over scrolls and books and names; a clever cat padding down in the dark; ink stained fingers; crooked glasses; cups of coffee; a tightrope, a balancing act, a careful way your breath is held; there is no place for you to be something whole; tongue swollen with cruelty and words that only know how to cut; pride is pride is pride is pride -- won’t you ever say you’re sorry? Won’t you see the love there is within you, the love you don’t know how to give? Clever, clever, but there is more to life than you might think.

[scllwyn]

It was bound to happen eventually, honestly I’m surprised it took me this long to make a second character if I’m being honest with you all. But here I am, and hopefully they’ll be easier to plot with as Charlie is a much more social person than Emma. 

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ CARLOTA ‘ CHARLIE ’ SELWYN ]  !  the muggles say they hold resemblance to [ ANA DE ARMAS ]. the [ TWENTY-FIVE ] year old [ NON-BINARY ] was [ ALTRUISTIC & MAVERICK ] before the war, but have now become [ CRASS & PATRONIZING ]. though they were once a part of[ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of a [ DRAGONOLOGIST ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually [ AN ORDER MEMBER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.  

AESTHETIC. 

boots & jackets, reggae music, mascara stains, iced coffee, stargazing, rebellious streaks, thunder storms, firewhiskey, cigarettes, dragons, magical creatures, thorned roses, hook-ups, ripped jeans, danger, feminist, the ocean, salt water, peppermint, the beach boys, leather jackets, petrichor, elephants, cinnamon, peppermint, autumn, cabins, getting lost in the woods, traveling

QUOTE:  wolves don’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep

pinterest can be found here. 

SOME HEADCANONS: 

favorite flower

Lignum Vitae, it’s the national flower of Jamaica, a place they’ve dreamed of traveling to for quite a while, and just they’re so lovely?

how charlie takes their coffee?

Iced. Charlie drinks everything cold, and can’t stand the burn that comes from hot drinks, even in the middle of winter, they takes things iced. The only exception they’ll make is for mulled wine, or any other kind of alcoholic hot toddy, but even then they prefer things cold. But they love coffee, with a few shots of espresso, little bit of cream filled with excess amounts of ice, sometimes a scoop of ice cream to make things even more exciting.

the stupidest gift you’ve ever given to someone.

When Charlie was five, and visiting their uncle for the first time in years, they had met a boy that lived nearby, a muggle boy at that. Unlike them, the boy was unaware of the sweets Charlie was raised on. So, one day, Charlie had decided to surprise the boy with a box of Bertie Botts every flavoured beans, somewhat hoping to impress him along the way, that unfortunately was not how the tale ended. After being unfortunate to receive a vomit flavoured one, the little boy was convinced Charlie was trying to poison them and unable to explain the truth, there was little Charlie could do to resolve their horrid mistake…which unfortunately to them never speaking again.

amortentia.

Crowded Concerts - think sweat, cigarettes, bodies pressed together, liquor filling everyone’s nostrils, this was something that brought a rare peace to Charlie Selwyn, closing their eyes and enjoying the bliss of loud music roaring around them and each and every scent that came along with, that was something that they loved.

New Leather - Something about the scent of a new jacket, a new car, you can’t go wrong with. Maybe it was because wearing leather, being surrounded by it was such a sin in their families’ eyes that their was drawn to the scent. That and the aroma that struck their nostrils, always gave them an overwhelming amount of confidence. Not that they needed more.

Campfires - Summers by the lake, lost in the sounds of birds chirping and roaring fires, what was better than that? Nothing, absolutely nothing.

how is charlie as a friend?

Once you have Charlie as a friend, they’re there for you for everything, they might not be one to open up about themselves, but they’ll listen to what is going on with everyone else, offer advice and a shot of something strong…or just walk with them through the grounds and they’re fiercely loyal…but if you do them wrong, lord have mercy on you…because they won’t hesitate to drop someone that breaks their trust like a fly.

what charlie is most proud of?

Becoming their own person despite having everything and everyone working against them, not becoming another carbon copy of every pureblood Slytherin, every Selwyn before them, just becoming…their own personand accepting people for who they are rather than what they are.

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGER WARNING: abuse, rape mention.

Purebloods in the wizarding community often found themselves superior to those that weren’t, this proved to be the case within the Selwyn family. The parents, Raúl and Penélope Selwyn a picturesque sight like no other, beautiful and poised as they made their name known amongst their peers. They were certain to mingle with the best, and nothing less. When their first was born, a beautiful son by the name of Camden, nothing changed aside from them having yet another beautiful face to show off to the rest of the world. He was the perfect child, obeyed as requested and did nothing but what they asked. He spoke like a well-mannered child, charmed the socks off every little girl that he was told to befriend. Then some years later, another was born, this time a beautiful baby girl and the two parents couldn’t be more than thrilled. Penélope had always spoken of wanting a little girl, and once presented with one, they gave her the same love and attention they did Camden, however the attention Camden was so used to receiving started to drift away from him and focus solely on Carlota . She was the new light of their lives, treated like the little princess they believed her to be but while they weren’t around Camden took it upon himself to punish her for taking his parents away. With each punishment, Carlota started to find herself despising not only Camden, but her parents and their views along with. She wanted nothing more to distance herself, so upon being introduced to her first of pureblood parties, Carlota found herself drawn to another boy that seemed equally as disinterested about being there. Befriending him instantly, she suddenly found herself with a new state of mind, a new outlook on everything around her and more. because this boy, unlike the rest of the pureblood boys was not cruel, at least not in the traditional sense, he was more along the lines of the comedic cruel which she found herself enjoying. So, quickly she found herself fighting back against her brother with pranks and jokes alike. Her parents despising what was happening, warned her to keep her distance from this boy but she didn’t listen.

Eventually this resulted in Carlota remaining at home while the rest of them went to parties, Camden once again becoming her parent’s favorites while she was given lessons. The lessons were what they hoped would help turn her into their definition of a proper lady, but eventually just made her worse. Carlota continued to act out, sneak out during the nights they were away and even the nights they were own, all tucked away in their beds. Sometimes Carlota would find herself in the heart of wizarding towns, meeting new and friendly faces, ones that she knew her parents would be highly against.

Finally, like every other wizard and witch in the United Kingdom, the young girl received her Hogwarts letter and attended. Starting off fresh, she found herself seated happily on the train next to this boy among others the two had never encountered. But then, everything came tumbling down the moment she took her place on the stool in the Great Hall, an instant look of uncertainty as the hat roared the house she would spend the next seven years of her life in to everyone. How of all things did Carlota find herself in Slytherin, it was the last thing she expected it but surely her family and brother would be pleased, her brother even more so considering his toy was now unable to escape him by going to another common room.

Carlota however, did not let this change who she was shaping into and found herself spending more time outside of the common room. In the Great Hall she would rebel further by sitting at the table she wanted to, typically the Gryffindor table but that sometimes varied as she found herself growing close to people from other houses. She didn’t care if it led to mockery or worse in the common room, she’d deal with that, but while she was out she loved having her freedom away from them.

Years into Hogwarts, Carlota became known as the Slytherin that defied all the norms and rules. It wasn’t until the summer before her 6th year however that everything changed, she’d snuck away from home like she had so many times before, but this time she found herself in a darker place in town and a few drinks too many. A man, a much, much older man found her in her vulnerable state and took advantage of her and with no one around to help, she ended up waking up in the bed in one of the rooms at Hogs Head. That’s when everything changed for the worse, Carlota snuck out more and found herself developing more of a drinking habit and eventually smoking. The girl slept around with people despite knowing it was wrong and it wasn’t until her brother Camden discovered the truth while out one night that she was caught.

Disgusted, her parents found only one way to solve the problem and that was to find her an immediate solution, a betrothed. Not speaking of her indiscretions, it was easy for Carlota ’s parents to find someone quickly. After all, the girl had an appeal to her that not all purebloods had, she was in the very least stunning and would produce a healthy, beautiful looking heir and that was most important to the families at the time. Carlota thought she hated her parents before, but now the hatred grew into a downright loathing, the boy they had chosen for her being someone despicable in her eyes. Carlota hated it, he was cruel beyond imaginable, treated her nearly like he would scum, like her brother often treated her but there was very little she could do while still at Hogwarts.

[rcdolphvs-blog]

— i’m mimi, i’m here, i’m queer and a little hyper on coffee right now ( when am i not ? ). gotta say, i’m feeling super amped ( and lucky ) to be here and write with you all and down for any plots you wanna cast my way or discuss ! a bit about me, i’m twenty-one, living in the GMT+9 timezone and keep a...hella weird schedule because college courses rule my life and sleep is an enigma. under the cut you’ll find subpar aesthetics and a few arbitrary headcanons for my trash son, though it’s not a conclusive list and i’ll be making a separate post for his history and events that have led him to this point in his morally-questionable life after i’ve finished fleshing out his character ( and have laid this current damn college assignment to rest ) !

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE ] !  the muggles say he holds resemblance to [ BEN BARNES ]. the [ THIRTY ] year old [ CIS MALE ] was [ STRATEGIC & UNDOGMATIC ] before the war, but have now become [ GREEDY & MASOCHISTIC ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of an [ UNSPEAKABLE ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PURE-BLOOD ] is actually [ A DEATH EATER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet. 

content warning for: implied parental/child abuse.

STATISTICS

full name: rodolphus miroslav lestrange ( rodolphus is the latin form of the name rudolph, a germanic name deriving from two stems: rod or hrōð, meaning "fame", and olf meaning "wolf". miroslav is a slavic masculine name meaning “peace and glory, peace glorifier” or even “a person praising the land / area" ) .

age: thirty.

sexuality: bisexual, demiromantic.

date of birth: the fourteenth of september in nineteen forty-eight.

gender: cis-male.

fixation: smoking.

strategic: though he doesn’t...doubt his abilities, he’s a forward thinker and doesn’t seek to leave much to chance for the sole reason he can. he will analyse a situation and strip it apart and then account for every possible route and consequence that could occur...not necessarily to choose the safest or easiest approach ( since he rather likes a challenge and indeed performs well under circumstances that are considered more difficult or challenging ) — but merely for the sole point of knowing.

undogmatic: a problematic one, maybe — a little hesitant and unwilling to accept authority or dogma as gospel, seeking to find fault in all inklings of power presented to him. rodolphus is the type to question and pull apart every facet of information presented to him...though facades and guises and pretending to agree paint another picture. it goes both ways, for he does not willingly accept or agree with the ministry’s rule...though the dark lord’s is hardly faultless, too ( and has...on occasion, been routinely picked and pulled apart by yours truly ).

greedy: insatiable, never satisfied, selfish at the best of times - rodolphus is always in want of more...and solely focus is on obtaining it. less so in tangible, material matters ( he couldn’t care less about wealth or possessions ) — and more in considering the intangible, with a habit of demanding and expecting too much from others: and in want of prestige, sublimity and respect for himself...even if he is undeserving of such. 

masochistic: self-explanatory. maybe on account of his increased exposure to pain in his youth...he’s developed, somewhat a taste for it. maybe part of it is lingering thought and conditioning that it is deserved and normal after what the lestrange parents did to their sons — or maybe he’s always been a little twisted and had a mind for the unsavoury and sordid. self-inflicted or not...pain in its varied intensities ( and the odd case of humiliation ) is often met with a...tortured groan and followed by a pleasured grin — a sure-fire way to capture his intrigue, his attention and...rouse him a little ( but you didn’t hear that from me ).

AESTHETIC

dirt under fingernails and the hesitation before touching hands. hanging cobwebs and ticking clocks in a darkened house of inherited insanity. glowing embers and the throw of candlelight. ‘one’s aches and pains are all one’s own.’ a crowd of people dressed in black. pulling at loose threads. a collection of quills and a dying candle on a table. ink smudged on parchment and sleeves. unanswered knocks on doors. lonely footsteps in the dead of night. tapping fingers and the imprint of nails pressing into palms. broken, reflecting shards of a mirror. ‘legacy. what is a legacy?’ inexplicable drafts and the sound of tearing paper. obscurity and hastily-averted gazes. polished leather and neatly folded shirts. the taste of blood and touch of protruding, barely-healed scars. strewn sheets, slowly-falling feathers and fallen moths. ‘i am nothing in my soul if not obsessive.’ charcoal eyes, melancholic lips and a blunt, grating voice. iron-forged signet rings and silver bands. grey linen and black leather. a lone, carved chair in an empty, dimly-lit room. deteriorating pages of old tomes. an unsettling feeling and byronic boredom.

HEADCANONS

i: amortentia — his amortentia is an…odd mix. a blend of peppermint leaves and fresh snow. wood varnish on an old piece of furniture and the lingering hint of never-quite fading cigarette smoke. the gleam of sweat on skin after a dalliance and sheets that have been slept in.

ii: physicalities — it seems that above average height runs in the lestrange family. though he’s slightly shorter than his brother (only by a little, though enough to cause comical chagrin being the elder of the brothers), rodolphus still stands at six-one which is tall enough as is. complete with his lean frame, near-black eyes, a mystery scar that can occasionally be seen peeking out from the collars of shirts and obsidian locks of hair slicked back precisely: his entire visage is…intimidating and relatively formidable…one he takes pride and care in, if only to balance the more rough aspects of his appearance with that which he can control and perfect ( born out of insecurities he neither voices nor acknowledges ) …all which often works in his favour. though, when paired with charismatic words and an occasional teeth-baring grin…exactly what he thinks about you and where you stand is anyone’s guess. like his brother, he also bares the dark mark on his left forearm, routinely concealed beneath the multiple layers he wears when at work. 

iii: blood — they say family comes first…and while…to an extent, that is true: even that has a limit. in rodolphus’ case: such a saying extends only to his brother. rodolphus has always been the less proactive of the two, a little passive and one to bide his time…too long - evidenced by the fact it was rabastan the one to kill their parents, after the years of…questionable parenting the two endured. this...has always been somewhat of an achilles heel for rodolphus and left never-quite quelled guilt in the wake of it, that rabastan had to take matters into his own hands, that he didn’t help, that he didn’t do it in lieu of his younger brother, wasn’t even there when the lifeblood of the lestrange parents finally was spilled, no less — onto the wooden floor of the family home. if only furthered by the guilt that he couldn’t protect rabastan from their questionable parenting and that he never retaliated or acted against them in those years of their youth ( that sicker, more macabre part of him, maybe...revelling in the pain of maltreatment they received and forgetting to protect his brother from it )...he’s changed his tune a little and made more of a point to put passivity aside for rabastan, in some ways trying to atone for failing his brother the first time. he would without hesitation lay down his life and/or do what was necessary to protect his younger brother in this war - and out of it. dangerous perhaps, for his loyalty to rabastan far proceeds his loyalty to the…cause they both serve and to the dark lord, too…and  should occasion arise…his actions, if pushed or necessary, might reflect that. of course, that ambiguity is only for him to know.

iv: unspeakable — at present, he works in the department of mysteries. this is less out of personal interest in the matters he deals with and only slightly out of the allure of both the secrecy and confidential…happenings he has a hand in: and taken more as a position of advantage, working in close proximity with other members of the ministry, working within their field and handling more…delicate information…which loose lips let slip for the dark lord. he initially started with investigations and research in ‘thought’ when taking up his position there years ago, though was later…promoted to a position under the hall of prophecies and study surrounding that field instead. surprisingly…within the workplace…he is well-liked and respected ( maybe a little feared, too...though that’s only speculation ), adept at his position, despite a more…austere and stoic exterior. alas, he knows how to turn on the charm and the charisma when necessary, to bite his tongue and put that clever wit of his to use in the more…unassuming of ways. he seeks to maintain his role there, if only to keep himself ( and his brother ) in the dark lord’s favour by remaining useful.

v: literary — a lesser known…detail about rodolphus ( one he does not seek to discuss, either ) is he is quite the bibliophile, a guilty-pleasure which took root in his youth, carried him through schooling, a less-than-loving home and beyond. note, the nature of the texts he reads…might be considered questionable, dealing in dark magic and concepts more often than not — but when not partaking in morally ambiguous pursuits nor at the beck-and-call of the dark lord, he will often indulge himself and be found tucked into a moderately-comfortable leather armchair with a weighty text in hand.

vi: patronus — rodolphus’ patronus is a raven. ravens in some muggle cultures are considered to be a signifier of bad luck, death or ‘the underworld’ - though that’s not all the charcoal-feathered bird symbolises and not what makes it an accurate fit for rodolphus. they are also…vocal and unconventional, unpredictable and knowing, quiet and observant watchers, calculated and precise when it comes to revealing themselves. know how to remain hidden and are charismatic when in want or need. simultaneously seeking liberation and victim to a horribly greedy nature. emotional though able to surpress and ignore it. it is memories of his brother, the only truly positive ones he has, which enable him to conjure the patronus.

vii: wand — larch wood, rougarou hair, fourteen-and-a-half inches, unbending

EXTRAS

link to a playlist here and pinterest board here !

[rebelleuse]

( damn reyna, back at it again with another disaster daughter ) -- but HELLO it’s me again, this time with andy black herself. don’t be fooled by that sweet face, there’s a storm brewing beneath her skin!! andromeda as a character is very close to my heart ( she was one of the first muses i ever wrote for ! ) and i’m very excited to pick her up & put my own spin to her this time around. i welcome all the plots, come love us !!

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ ANDROMEDA BLACK ] !  the muggles say  she holds resemblance to [ ADELAIDE KANE ]. the [ 26 ] year old [ CIS FEMALE ] was [ WARM & FAMILIAL ] before the war, but have now become [ SECRETIVE & DETACHED ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of an [ APOTHECARY POTIONEER ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually a [ NEUTRAL ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet. 

THE STORY:

warnings: ( parental abuse tw, self harm tw )

SISTERS CUT FROM THE SAME STAR. the second of three sisters, andromeda had taken up the role of being the glue that held them together from a young age. she sought to emulate bella’s intensity and narcissa’s grace, hoping to become middle ground and to be loved by both in equal measure, because without a doubt did she love them with all her heart. love is not something andromeda takes lightly – growing up in a home in which there was a love drought, non-existent in the marriage of their parents’ and intangible in their noble house, andromeda struggled with the concept of love and fought tooth and nail for the scraps of it she could find. in her sisters, she found it in abundance, and for the first fifteen years of her life, andromeda safeguarded their bond with a passion. she was never too far away from one or both of her sisters, in tutoring lessons, in leisure, and in due time in the walls of hogwarts as well. there was a time when andromeda was content with the idea of forever continuing to disguise herself as aperfect pureblooded woman if it meant holding her sisters close for the rest of her life.

WHY BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS?andromeda has always been a people pleaser, especially towards her parents. she always feels like there’s something she lacks in and feels the need to prove her worth. as a child, perfection was one step closer to gaining her mother’s affections and two steps away from a verbal or physical lashing; as a student, andromeda vied to be at the top of her classes ( whatever it took to get to the top – andromeda definitely was not past bribing fellow students for answers, using honeyed words to get some leverage, and outright cheating ), as well as presenting herself as a pristinely as possible. she wanted to be a good reflection of her family, to see her parents’ iron-fisted way of child rearing as a twisted form of love. though she had never been the brightest ( after all, she much preferred the arts, literature, languages, and practical subjects like potions ) she was good at pretending and mastered it like an art form.

somewhere along the lines, the desire to please her parents and family ebbed – before, andromeda wanted nothing more than to make them happy, make them proud, and perhaps in doing so she would earn their coveted affection. but as the years went on, her parents grew colder, harsher, more heavy-handed than the years prior – and she never seemed to reap the benefits of all the love she poured out to them.

they do not love me, and i do not have to love them.

SHE’S GOT YOU HIGH. in her later years at hogwarts (and continuing well into her early twenties), andromeda was her own brand of trouble. newfound liberation and the sweet taste of quiet rebellion were some of her favourite things – in addition to the fact that she was, in some way or another, attempting to garner all the good attention she never seemed to command back at home. it was exhilarating to sneak out of the dormitories and classes and more “important” things to do, just to be shoulder to shoulder with the very same people her parents would never allow her to be caught dead with. to make a name and reputation for herself outside of the one pre-determined for her was a high that she never anticipated she would want.

CREATURE OF HABIT. she has always had a habit for biting and picking at her nails, born from nervousness and fear. it brings her some kind of comfort when she’s in a state of unrest or numbed blankness. the sensation, the firm press of teeth to nail and nail to nail bed is as delightful as it is hurtful. as a child, she was often reprimanded for doing so – druella black made a show out of a weekly inspection of her nails, more often than not finding an unsightly scene of scarring, bleeding, and the most unladylike of hands. for a brief period of time, she managed to make andromeda stop (or so she thought – instead, andromeda turned to picking at other, less visible parts of her; scratches on her thighs, pinches on a delicate stomach).

PAWN LEFT STANDING. andromeda has been deemed the sister hardest to marry off. between her stints of rebellion (and the far from pleasant rumours those incidents circulated) and the intense way she carries herself at social functions, she is far from the ideal, demure wife that her family wants to pawn her off as. andromeda has a lengthy history of failed engagements (all of which she has found a way to sabotage one way or another) and at twenty-six years old, her parents are still working tirelessly at finding her a match. this is something andromeda is wholeheartedly against and if at all possible, evade completely – she is working her way towards totally leaving the black family and pureblood society as a whole, but it is always easier said than done.

PRESENT DAY. andromeda works as an apothecary potioneer, hoping to make a living out of the only “rigorous” subject she excelled in while in school. she still lives at the black family manor, being unmarried and notoriously trouble-making, cygnus and druella intend to cage her in until she leaves with their blessing. unbeknownst to them, andromeda has been making quiet work out of trying to bring herself as far away from the blacks as possible – she hopes to make connections, allies, and friends that she can trust and who trust her back, so as to have support and a safety net to fall on. it proves difficult to trust her, though; total neutrality one day, surrounded by pureblood elite the next, and then the week after she is rumoured to be fraternizing with those her family deems as dirty blooded – andromeda black has become nothing short of an enigma.

AESTHETIC:

skirts hiked up just a little too high, wildfires ablaze in the summer heat, the intense craving for love, selflessness and selfishness intertwined, scrubbing your hands until they are red and raw but still never feeling clean, laughing at the demons nipping at your heels, “a golden cage is still a cage”, piano music in at the end of an empty hall, secrets whispered in the dark, toeing off high heels at the end of the day, bourbon poured into a champagne flute, cracks and damage on an ornate statue; a star turned supernova, destruction and rebirth.  

WANTED PLOTS: i’ve been super swamped irl this week BUT in the coming few days/week i’ll definitely have time to catch up and write so!!!!! <3

family drama. good ol’ most noble and ancient house of shit constantly hitting the fan.

friends !! in both the pureblood circles ( did anyone call for angst? ) and on the neutral/order sides. 

old friends ? old flames ?? 

bethrothed -- either previously ( because andromeda has a bit.. of a track record of spurned arrangements ) or the engagement is in the works. i love complication, drama, and all the angst this plot will bring. 

everything else in between! <3

[littlckings-blog]

            guess  who’s  back,  back  again?     i  don’t  know  why  i’m  suddenly  singing  songs  from  when  i  was  four,  but  i’m  all  out  of  clever  vine  references.   now  that  ted’s  out  of  the  way,  here’s  all  the  juicy  details  on  reggie  black,  the  human  personification  of  this  vine.   if  you’ve  forgotten  in  the  two  minutes  since  i  posted  ted’s  intro,  i’m  teddy,  (  nineteen,  est,  she/her  )  and  my  discord  is  fuck this ‘shitsburgh’ team#6050  for  all  your  plotting  needs.

i.   the  basics.

the dark lord has targeted regulus black ! the muggles say he holds resemblance to thomas hayes. the eighteen year old male was vigilant & conscientious before the war, but has now become callous & pugnacious. though they were once a part of slytherin, they have now taken up the position of a socialite. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the pureblood is actually a death eater, but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

ii.   the  aesthetic.

cool marble halls, murky lakes. black coffee in the morning, firewhiskey burning down throats. midnight flights going nowhere, feet skimming over tree tops. a shining prefects badge, perfect owl os. crescent bags under hooded eyes, weary with more than simple fatigue, hands that shake in the morning light. a tight lipped smirk, a king toppling with checkmate, velvet sheets and chapped lips, crumpled letters, the melancholy notes of a piano song. a pale throat, a green tie twisted tight around a finger. nights in a drafty tower, a house elf awaking him just before dawn. gloomy forests, branching trees. bitten nails, a rough laugh, anger like a coal in his chest, the smoke thick enough to choke. porcelain tubs with claw feet, dark hair drifting upwards from under the water. black ink, black heart, black blood.

iii.   the  story.

this is how regulus enters the world  –  a baby’s cry splitting the air, echoing against the marble ceilings. there is little warmth to the way his father’s eyes sweep over him, assessing, to the sigh his mother gives. it’s barely minutes before a house elf sweeps him away.

the elder blacks are ever cold, ever fearsome. though his brother incurs most of their wrath, regulus learns quickly how to hide. at times, in the literal sense. a kitchen cupboard where kreacher will smuggle him sandwiches, in the dreary attic listening to the shouts from down below. at others, in plain sight. children will be seen and not heard, as his mother says. regulus doesn’t fidget, hardly speaks. a darling, a visitor calls him once. perfectly polite, he smiles.

the first words regulus ever remembers saying are ‘ sirius, don’t, ’ and that is largely indicative of the rest of his life. as a child, regulus is rarely seen away from his brother’s side. which is why, when sirius begins to rebel it shakes him so. regulus has never been lonely, before.

by the time regulus’s letter arrives, orion and walburga have all but given up on there eldest child. it falls to regulus, then, to make them proud. he should be happy, he knows, to buy his first wand  (  rowan wood with a dragon heartstring core, twelve inches, supple  ), to have a snowy owl in a cage. instead, he finds, he is mostly scared.

slytherin, to no one’s surprise, and the pleased letter from his mother is almost enough to forget the sight of his brother, all the way across the hall. he makes few friends, save his cousins and the pureblood he has known all his life, but he excels in classes.

in second year, he joins the quidditch team as seeker. dueling club in second, prefect in fifth, head boy the year he turns seventeen. the bags under his eyes are near permanent, and the nurse clucks at the way his hands shake, but to his parents  –  it’s not enough.

nothing is, until the day two weeks before his sixth year begins, when the dark mark is branded on his arm.

[firecrackcrs]

             shows   up   fifteen   minutes   late   without   starbucks.     this  group  has  been  open  all  of  a  day,  and  i’ve  already  designated  myself  the  neighborhood  disaster.   hello,  hello   !!   i’m  teddy,  i’m  nineteen,  and  i  never  fucking  learned  how  to  be  on  time.   i  had  a  minor  pet  emergency,  i’m  very  sorry.   but  at  long  last,  i  have  arrived   !   i  know,  i  know,  hold  the  applause.   i  have  two  whole  characters  to  introduce  to  y’all,  and  the  deets  on  my  boy  ted  are  under  the  cut.

i.   the  basics.

the dark lord has targeted edward ‘ted’ tonks ! the muggles say he holds resemblance to kim jisoo. the twenty-six year old male was audacious & boisterous before the war, but has now become fickle & scatterbrained. though they were once a part of hufflepuff, they have now taken up the position of a healer at saint mungos. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the muggleborn is actually an order member, but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

ii.   the  aesthetic.

warm butterbeer on a winter’s day, a woolen sweater with too long sleeves. sunshine dappled through autumn leaves, a blur of redorangeyellow. teeth bitten into eraser caps, quills scattered forgotten in a trunk. ( they look nice, he can admit. but pencils are much more convenient, even especially when a pureblood jeers. there is a time to cower. there’s another for quiet rebellion. ) hugs that last just a little too tight, a jersey ( chaser, captain ) just a little too big. rumpled hair as if he’s just rolled out of bed, a loud laugh booming through the halls, a pen knife scraping patterns across wood, down the handle of a secondhand broom. hushed giggles and a secret wink. cheeks red with firewhiskey and glee, eyes blazing ever bright.

iii.   the  story.

this is how ted comes into the world  –  to warmth. a mother’s smile, a father’s tears, a hand woven blanket curled close. from his first moments, he knows little other than love. they call him edward, for an uncle, and it takes but a week for the nickname to follow. ( ed, his father suggests, but his mother shakes her head. aunt marie likes eddie, but her wife prefers ward. it’s his grandfather who calls him, one day, as soft as a teddy bear, and the name sticks. )

they call him a terror as a child, affectionately, and it’s almost true. he’s  –  rambunctious, is the word, his mother decides. energetic, and curious, and full of adventure. sticky fingers, a broken glass, his first full sentence goes like this  –  i didn’t mean to ! they child proof the cupboards the next day. when they’re all open by the hour, as if by magic, well  –  kid are smarter than we give them credit for, right ?

it’s small things, at first. open locks there, an itchy sweater shrunk there. they brush it off. after all, there has to be an explanation. doesn’t there ?  he’s eleven the day the cat gets caught up a tree, and it takes an hour to wake grandmother after she faints dead away, the sight of him levitating too much to bear. two months later, they get the letter. the world starts making sense again.

ollivander’s (  larch wood with a unicorn hair core, thirteen and a half inches, supple flexibility ), then flourish & botts. a whole new world  (  a dazzling place he never kneeew  ), and he delights in it. the teacher they’d sent to help warns him  –  the wizarding world isn’t as rose tinted as he thinks. there’s a certain grief to her voice, a weariness in her eyes. he doesn’t notice. that is  –  until they stop for ice cream. the student at the next table, brand new robes and books stacked high, takes one look at his proffered hand.  (  well worn jeans, paper money. eyes alight with wonder, a jaw nearly slack. ) MUDBLOOD.

record scratch, freeze frame. what ?  they shuffle away, sundaes near forgotten, and the guide explains. his mother gasps, his father’s jaw clenches. ted ?  he moves on. the only korean child in a lily white town, he’s long been used to people disliking him for what he can’t control. no matter, he thinks, watching sparks shoot from his wand. it’s worth it.  ( still  –  extra muggle clothes in his trunk, new packs of pencils. his mother’s cat, instead of the owl he’d wanted to beg for. he’s never been ashamed of his family. he won’t start now. )

in other life  –  he may have been a gryffindor. in this one, he falls to hufflepuff, to kindness and to loyalty, to a little bit of home. he picks up magic easily, makes friends easier. he learns how to fly, the best time to sneak into the kitchens, how good he is at exploding snap. it takes all of summer to convince his father of a broom, but in his second year he makes chaser. in seventh, he makes captain.

it’s his sixth year that he stages a pickup game the week after christmas, a stray bludger crashing into the infirmary's window. broken glass litters the floor, moonlight playing off shards, and headmaster dumbledore tells him to assist the healer for the next month. this is how he falls in love with healing   –   legs swinging from a bed as he watches madame brew a potion, head bent as he heals a sparrow’s leg for the first time. he writes his mother, ink splattered across parchment in his hurry, thrilled with the thought of knowing his future.

he never joins the order, not really. he’s not like them, anger curled in their chests like coal, the smoke thick enough to choke. there has been far too much fighting, as of late. he’d much rather prefer to heal.

the war goes on. so does he.