lovely words

Rabastan Lestrange || 25 || Diplomat

[diplomccy-blog]

About Rabastan - Stats, Full Biography & Wanted Connections

[ BASICS. ]

Full Name: Rabastan Hermes Lestrange Nickname(s): Rab Age: 25 Gender: Cis-Male Preferred Pronouns: He / Him Birthday: April 9th Astrological Sign: Taurus Place of Birth: tbd Residence: Bloomsbury, London, United Kingdom Species: Human Parent(s)/Guardian(s): ~ Lestrange (father), ??? (biological father) ~ Lestrange (née ~) (mother) Sibling(s): Rodolphus Children: none Pet(s): none Spoken Language(s): English, French, Italian, Russian, German Sexual Orientation: Homosexual Romantic Orientation: Homoromantic Religion: Atheist

[ PHYSICAL. ]

Hair Color: Dark Brown Eye Color: Brown Height: 1.69m Weight: 59kg Build: Slim/Petite Dominant Hand: Right Glasses or Contacts: Glasses Tattoos: none Piercings: none Scars: n/a Physical or Mental Illnesses: n/a Allergies: n/a

[ PSYCHOLOGICAL. ]

Dreams: tba Skills/Hobbies: Reading, Painting, Public Speaking, Academic Writing, Travelling Habits: Messing With His Glasses When He’s Agitated Interests:  Politics, Spell Research, Mythology, Art, History, Geography Likes: Expensive Wines, Books, Sweets, Dogs, Maps, Pretty Stationary, Lace, Satin, Organisation Dislikes: Muggles, Mess, Bugs, Coffee, Peas Phobias/Boggart: His Father Positive Traits: Diplomatic & Eloquent Negative Traits: Manipulative & Elusive

[ HISTORY. ]

Had Sex: Yes Smoke | Drank | Done Drugs: No | Yes | No Education: Hogwarts     Occupation: Diplomatic Attaché for the International Confederation of Wizards Occupation they wanted as a child: Unspeakable  Criminal Record: none

[ OTHER. ]

House: Slytherin Year: Graduated Patronus: Unable to produce a corporeal Patronus Blood Status: Pureblood Alliance: Death Eaters (Member) Faceclaim: Xavier Dolan

Full Biography

Under Construction

Wanted Connections

Under Construction

[diplomccy-blog]

@bitchtricks

Rabastan Lestrange’s Flat, Central London // Early Evening

He's rarely ever home and almost never has visitors. The flat is more a workspace than anything else.  He's been accused of living in a library before and it's not far from truth. The ceiling-high dark wooden bookshelves cover almost every inch of wall completely and yet he's running out of space to put the books that steadily continue to fill his home. Rabastan likes it, in fact, he is quite fond of his place. The décor is much more his style than that awful dungeon his sister-in-law has turned the manor into. He really ought to spend more time here than there.  Why he doesn't, Rabastan can't say.  It is so much more quiet, after all. Or, it is quiet until he does have a visitor. To say he's pleased would be a lie. Appalled is more like it. “Bellatrix. So kind of you to visit. How did I ever get so lucky?”

[carrowe]

“ —– couple reporters more or less. what’s the difference?” he says, tossing the daily prophet to the side. doesn’t exactly take the publication SERIOUSLY, but reads it nonetheless. if only to see what nonsense is published that day – see how deep their corruption runs. he finds it amusing. almost as amusing as its reporters being killed off like flies, but that’s a different story. which he SURPRISINGLY did not have any hand in. though he kinda wishes that he had, now that he can see the outcome. maybe next time a reporter puts their nose where it doesn’t belong, he can have some fun too. an embroidered silver spoon is stirred in his tea, and he takes a bite out of his scone, all the while ignoring the chatter of the three broomsticks’ breakfast crowd. doesn’t bother him. neither does his table companion, so he doesn’t spare them a second look as he spreads more raspberry jam onto his bread. his voice remains cold, quiet, barely audible. “too insensitive? i can feel you staring, but we both know that i’m right. reporters are like cockroaches. kill two, three new ones appear.”

[diplomccy-blog]

He keeps his face carefully neutral as the thoughts are racing in his head. Show no emotion, he tells himself. Not here. He shouldn't be phased by the murders, shouldn't be surprised. Maybe should have been able to do it himself. He's heard the whispers. Coward, they call him. Weak. He has yet to prove himself, to kill for them, in order to show that he deserves his place. That he is more than just Rodolphus' little brother, the soft one, the talker. “No, you're quite right,” his own tea and lemon tart remain untouched. “Only I can't help but be a little bitter -” Two women pass by their table and he falls silent. It is risky, to speak of these things, here but still, they're only words, aren't they? When the witches have moved out of earshot again, Rabastan continues, voice even lower than before. “Would it have been too much to ask for that Skeeter woman instead?”

[peacvcksss]

there was nothing QUITE like sipping fine wine with someone who appreciated it as much as he did. lucius often found himself in company who couldn’t do that exactly, who called the simplest merlot a good wine — it was tiring, especially when he expected so much better from his acquaintances. luckily, rabastan ( @diplomccy ) did not belong to that category. like lucius, he seemed to be good at appreciating the finer things in life, and it was thus with him that lucius often found himself sharing an evening on which they tried a bottle of wine that cost more than some people made a month. “i have to admit, i find this one a tad disappointing,” he said, draining his first glass with a slight frown. “it’s good, but not as good as i would like it to be.”  a sigh slipped past his lips as he cut himself a slice of french cheese. “either way, how have you been? i hope hasn’t kept you too busy.”

[diplomccy-blog]

Bland wine was, in Rabastan's eyes, one of mankind's greater sins. He'd been served a great variety of wines in his life ever since he'd gotten a taste for it when he'd been allowed to have his first sip at age fourteen. (and then had spent the next years sampling his way through the family's wine cellar in secret). Mostly the events he attended served at least one or two bottles of decent quality. Lately however, he'd been spending a disproportionate amount of time at various Ministry functions and given the champagne he'd been forced to drink, their financial situation was worse than he'd thought. So yes, he'd certainly expected more of this bottle. “A shame,” he didn't even bother to finish his own glass, setting it aside on the table. “It's been dreadful. I'm a glorified nanny for balding men in their mid-sixties. And let me tell you, those continental ambassadors are just awful. But enough of that, there's little that's less exciting than my work. How's fatherhood, Lucius?”

[diplomccy-blog]

TASK #4 - This or That

tea or coffee ?

lace or velvet ?

wine or beer ?

flying or apparating ?

quills or pens ?

summer or winter ?

muggle music or wizard music ?

hot or iced ?

moon or stars ?

honeydukes or florean fortescue’s ice cream parlour ?

beach or mountain ?

shower or bath ?

solid or patterned ?

cuddling or kissing ?

forehead kisses or cheek kisses ?

roses or lavender ?

night or day ?

fiction or non fiction ?

transfiguration or & potions ? 

concert or play ?

robes or muggle clothes ?

introverted or extraverted ?

socks, slippers or barefoot ?

rose gold or bronze ?

bright or pastel colours ?

small or big house ?

library or bookshop ?

quiet or loud ?

truth or dare?

dragons or thestrals ?

thunderstorm or sunny ?

vanilla or honey scented ?

silver or gold ?

radio or newspaper ?

vocal or silent spells ?

garden or forest ?

bag or backpack ?

tea leaf reading or tarot card ?

celestina warbeck or OMEN ?

neat or messy handwriting ?

lower case or all caps ?

pancakes or crepes ?

bertie bott’s every flavour beans or chocolate frogs ?

hogsmeade or diagon alley ?

over the word count or the bare minimum ?

ghosts or werewolves ?

cloud watching or star gazing ?

countryside or city ?

witch weekly or the quibbler ?

fresh fruit or fresh flowers ?

sweet or sour ?

big spoon or little spoon ?

rooftop or balcony ?

nearly headless nick or the grey lady ?

lemon or lime ?

flobberworms or imps ? neither. they’re both pests.

satin or flannel ?

pearls or diamonds ?

dinosaur kid or fairytale kid ?

poetry or prose ?

cats, owls or frogs ? dogs

[roleplaymemesforyou]

Send 💬 + a rumor and my muse will react to it.

[kol-calamity-blog]

ANONYMOUS PLAY TIME! (or not, up to you)

Send me one of these and I’ll answer.

HYE have you ever?

FMK fuck marry kill (with three names)

KHC kiss hug cuddle (with three names)

AMA ask me anything

HON hot or not? 

WWY well would you?

WYR would you rather? 

TOD truth or dare?

SMW ship me with? (send me ships)

TOT this or that?

WIS who I ship? (with myself, or with others — specify) 

[dirrtymercy]

@diplomccy

she waltzes into his office like she owns the place, and throws herself in the chair opposite his desk. place looks a lot different when she’s in her human form ( mostly, it feels SMALLER ), but she doesn’t let her face reveal that she knows the space like the back of her hand. that she has spent countless hours on its walls. legs cross in front of her, and she gives him a long, evaluating look. crimson red claws dig into her knees and dark eyes gain a razor sharp focus. “been a while,” she says. though it has only been a week since her last EXTORTION —- that is long enough. time for more. “did you get the information that i wanted on your sister in law?” she asks, and a smile appears on blood red lips. it’s about as sharp as her quill. "would be a shame if someone were to publish what i know about you and your dear, dear older brother.” lips form into a pout, and an eyebrow raises, challenging him. 

[diplomccy-blog]

It's really the last thing he needs today and probably because of that it's exactly what he gets. He hates the press, hates every single one of those pesky leeches with their quills and their questions and their neverending looks of suspicion as id nothing he tells them is ever good enough. But most of all he hates her. The way she holds herself, walks, talks as if the world owes her something. They don't – he most certainly doesn't. And yet, she's managed to get her claws in him, managed to make him want to flee his own office as soon as she enters, eyes nervously searching for exits where there are none. He doesn't know how she came to know what she does and it doesn't matter anymore now. Should he tell Rodolphus? Definitely. Had he ? No. And that, too, she seemed to be sure of. “What you call information is nothing but lies and slander.” Years of practice and training keep his voice steady and his expression free of emotion. “Miss Skeeter, are you certain you want to head down this road? Drag the reputation of a respectable woman – a Lestrange at that – into the dirt, fully knowing what it'll do to your reputation once my family proves this to be nothing but a disgusting rumour? You sought to know, we do not take kindly to liars. Those in our favour however, who prove they can cooperate, have always been most generously rewarded.”

[leonardoflint]

may, 1972. hogwarts. 

careful eyes inspected the corridor before he closed the door, throwing a couple of silent spells at it ( not all stuck, as he was still training those ). the dorm room behind him, a place he’d called home for almost seven years, was empty but for the one boy in it. he was certain his roommates wouldn’t come back any time soon and, like they always had, it was in a stolen hidden moment that they brought out their warmth, their LOVE. leonardo was tired of hiding such an enormous part of his life, rabastan, but what was yet another secret in a life so full of them ? back agaisnt the door, a soft grin coloring his expression, leo gave the other one long silent look before he rushed towards him, hands on the sides of his face, lips clashing softly against his. “ i’ve missed you. “ they’d been together all week, but with no time for those hidden minutes. the grin grew wider at his own words before leo moved to his bed, lying there in wait for rabastan, for their usual image: one with their fingers brushing the other’s curls, soft kisses, more daring each time, juvenile talks about school and family and confessions, confessions, confessions. // @diplomccy

[diplomccy-blog]

It would have been easy to feel out of place between all the blue and bronze. Rabastan stuck out like a sore thumb in his green and silver uniform. He should have been more uncomfortable, more appalled at the thought of what they were doing but Leo wiped that all away with a single smile that made his insides flutter and his cheeks flush. He'd have thought this would have gone away by now but no. Leonardo still managed to wipe away any last shred of rationality Rabastan had with a single grin and a kiss. “You too.” And how much he wished he could say more, be better, bolder, brighter for Leo. Put everything he felt into words. But such wasn't the Lestrange way and that was still just what he was and always would be. Instead he tried to say with actions what he couldn't confess out loud when he joined Leo on the bed bodies pressed together and faces only inches apart, one hand finding the other boy's and intertwining their fingers, so close their noses brushed lightly against one another. The other hand somehow found a lock of dark hair and wrapped it around his finger absent-mindedly tugging and playing with the soft strand. “I missed this. I looked for you after lunch to see if you wanted to go to the library together but you were gone already.”

[diplomccy-blog]

// @viiolentminds

// Lestrange Manor // Late Noon

The beast was taunting him, Rabastan was sure of it. Evil eyes glinting up at him, tail slowly whipping from side to side it lay on his files that he'd just organised into a perfectly neat pile based on importance with the most urgent one on top. He needed that file now or else he wouldn't be able to finish his notes on the proposal for restrictions to cross-border apparition they were going to present in the morning. And as if he knew, as if he'd planned this – which Rabastan wouldn't put past him – Lucifer the literal cat from hell had jumped onto his desk and planted himself right across his files, messing up his perfect pile as he did so. “Lucifer, I swear, one of these days I'm going to turn you into a fur coat!” He'd never, of course. His brother was fond of the bloody animal. Rabastan angrily pushed his glasses back up and ever so slowly reached out for the pile. “Alright, listen-” the cat growled lowly. “Don't do that! I'm a friend for Merlin's sake! Come on you hellion, get off my work and I'll give you some nice tuna. How do you feel about that?” Lucifer hissed and lunged at Rabastan's hand. The claws dug deep and Rab quickly pulled back to see a few drops of blood already forming. “Ow! Fine! Have it your way!” With still a bit of a flourish he stormed off and down the hallway towards where he'd last seen his brother. “Rod!” The door swung open with maybe a little too much strength behind it and crashed against the wall. “You cat is bullying me again! He won't let me work in peace!”

[diplomccy-blog]

alaslor:

Empty folders, DMLE stamps, envelopes. Alastor repeated the list of stuff he was looking for in his head as he moved within the narrow space of the musty supply room, in his hands already a bunch of files. Bureaucracy, the worst part of his job, by a long shot ( he certainly complained about it more than the scars and regular nightmares the auror position had given him ). The search was a peaceful but time costly break, and would certainly only take longer once the other man was inside. Alastor’s immediate reaction to the sound of the door closing so abruptly was to reach for his wand in silence, but the voice was, sadly, recognisable enough to not justify some accidental reaction. With a sigh, the older man turned around the cabinet to face Rabastan Lestrange, always an unwelcome sight. “ What the hell are you hiding from, Lestrange ? The law ? “ The slight smile on his lips was full of hatred and he’d gladly admit that seeing the other that frustrated was a very fun experience.

Rabastan flinched visibly. Of course the room wasn't empty. Just his luck today as it seemed. And his luck it was Alastor Moody looming over him like a particularly ill-tempered rain cloud. Pushing his glasses up on his nose Rabastan pulled himself up to his full height - not that it made much of a difference. “That, Mr Moody, is none of your concern I believe.” He let all the privilege he'd known all his life seep into his voice. Even if the other wasn't technically wrong. But he needn't know that. Rabastan estimated that the number of people who actually suspected him to have any involvement in the recent attack or any kind of Death Eater activity was vanishingly low. Most simply didn't think he had it in him. It was all rather convenient.  “I was unaware this room was occupied now or otherwise I would of course have knocked. I see they've finally found you a suitable office then. How... quaint.”

[diplomccy-blog]

Those who spared a second glance at Rabastan Lestrange as he rushed by noticed a somewhat haunted look in his eyes. as if he was being chased of an entity of unknown origin. And it wasn't too far from the truth albeit in his case that 'entity' was a corpulent man in his sixties with more hair in his nostrils than on his head who'd spent the better part of the day making Rabastan utterly miserable. Why they had tasked him of all people with entertaining the German ambassador in between meetings was beyond him. It was a punishment no one, and especially he did not deserve. Rabastan was a patient man but even he had his limits and when those limits had been crossed he'd fled. Better to take a break than to stab their honoured guest with a paper knife. Turning left and then right again he ducked into what he remembered to be a mostly empty supply closet, sagging against the door as soon as it had closed behind him. “Fucking shite, Merlin's fucking arse. What a bloody wanker!”  

[diplomccy-blog]

Well hello there. ‘tis me, CJ the Murder Elf. Today i bring you a special sinnamon roll so grab your snacks and gather ‘round the bonfire of people, here’s all you need to know about Rabastan Lestrange.

Once upon a time a posh lady named Mrs Lestrange fell into bed with a man that was definitely not her husband. Nine months later she had a cute little baby boy and thank Merlin Mr Lestrange was bad at math and didn’t ask too many questions. The child was named Rabastan Hermes Lestrange and his mother buried the truth so deep she might have forgotten about it herself.

Calling Rabastan a delightful child would have been a lie. Annoying was more like it. Once he started talking he never stopped asking questions and once he started reading and writing, he also began to correst other people's orthography. He was a horrible little know-it-all who threatened other small children with the wrath of his brother if they refused to do what he wanted. It worked like a charm every time.

Always more of an observer than an activist Rabastan was perfectly fine staying in his brother's mighty shadow. Chances were that he'd be overlooked and left to his own devices. He mostly did as he was told and kept a low profile.

Yet he was clever and good with words and that didn't go by unnoticed. And so it was decided that he would be a politician one day. Rabastan would much rather have been a researcher or an Unspeakable but then why would he have an opinion on his own life?

Through some stroke of luck hes managed to avoid being forced into a marriage so far and that is his greatest victory. If they drag him to the altar he will of course obey as always. Until then he'll do his best to fly under the radar and say 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir' and generally be a good boy. It's worked so far, why shouldn't it now?