how could you let them turn you into a monster?

[ggoyle]

⧼   freddy carter, cis male, he/him   /   float by the neighbourhood + loyalty so true that you will break yourself bending over backwards / knife tucked inside your belt in case you need it to backstab someone first, but your hands shake and you’re too afraid to use it / if you’re the smartest person in the room, you’re in the wrong room / the taste of metal on your tongue, always holding your words back. knees aching from how often you kneel / can you think for yourself? or do you always just blindly follow?   ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that GREGORY GOYLE? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the 27 year old pure blood WIZARD is a SLYTHERIN alumnus who has gone on to be a CLERK AT BORGIN & BURKES [ & provides cursed objects to an associate of bellatrix lestrange. through them, she has ordered a whole manner of things that they have sought out across the globe for her and smuggled back into the country. they resent that the ministry has made their preferred business so hard to conduct with their crack down on cursed objects and new laws implemented regularly, and appreciate that bellatrix pays them well above the asking price for all they source for her. ]. i’ve heard they can be quite DUTIFUL & RESILIENT, but i don’t know… they came off very EGOCENTRIC & SOFT-HEADED in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?   [   M, 27, est, they/them ]

✗ BASICS

NAME: Gregory Gaspar Goyle

D.O.B: June 3rd, 1995

GENDER IDENTITY: Cis-male

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

PLACE OF BIRTH: Bristol, England

✗ PHYSICAL

HEIGHT: 6′0

HAIR & EYE COLOR: Dark Brown x2

GLASSES / CONTACTS: No / No

SCARS: small gash underneath bottom lip, several minor scars on the back of hands.

PIERCINGS: Ears

TATTOOS: the Dark Mark on right forearm, dagger down the left shin, several small stick and pokes around the ankles, barbed wire around right wrist.

CLOTHING STYLE: Modern pop-punk

✗ TRAITS

ZODIAC: Gemini

LIKES: -

DISLIKES: -

VICES: Greed, Gluttony

VIRTUES: Patience, Humility

PERSONALITY TYPE: ESFJ (the Provider)

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Evil

DOMINANT HAND: Left

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Quark (Star Trek: Deep Space 9), Captain Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean), Varrick (Legend of Korra)

✗ LIFE

HOMETOWN: London, England

FINANCIAL STATUS: Upper Middle Class

EDUCATION: Hogwarts Dropout

OCCUPATION: Clerk at Borgin & Burkes (sells cursed magical objects to Bellatrix Lestrange)

AFFILIATION: Death Eater

RELIGION: Atheist, Eclectic Witch  

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: English, Latin, German

✗ HEALTH

MENTAL ILLNESSES: PTSD, Substance Abuse, Bulimia

SMOKING / ALCOHOL / DRUGS: Yes / Yes / Yes

✗ MAGICAL

BLOOD: Pureblood

WAND: 17″ Blackthorne, Serpent core, Surprisingly swishy

FAVORITE SUBJECT: Dark Arts, Potions, Ghoul Studies

LEAST FAVORITE SUBJECT: Muggle Studies

SKILLS: Ancient Runes, Transfiguration, Potions

MIRROR OF ERISED: -

BOGGART: Vincent Crabbe Jr.

AMORTENTIA: -

REVERSED AMORTENTIA: the musky scent of old books, cigarette smoke, rubbing alcohol, patchouli, grapefruit

PATRONUS: Tiger: the largest living cat species and a member of the genus Panthera. It is most recognisable for its dark vertical stripes on orange fur with a white underside.

The tiger is a very strong, independent patronus. They have a fierce personality to them that they show openly, and have no problem doing it. However, there is more to them than just an impression, they have parts of their past that are a bit dark, and that has caused them to grow a bit cynical. They don’t like to show their feelings to others, as they like to maintain the impression for themselves and for others that they are unbreakable. They are not fast to warm up to anyone, but once they do they will protect you with all that they have.

✗ BIOGRAPHY

for biography please click HERE.

✗ WANTED CONNECTIONS

roommate: taken--Kasper Madden.

therapist: taken--Liana Burke

childhood friends: Ottavia Crabbe, Lucrezia Moltisanti, Julius Crabbe, Marcus Flint

enemies to friends

rival

frenemies

unlikely friends

exes

[ggoyle]

hoggleswart​:

‘     I’m  sure  the  people  of  Camelot  would  be  devastated  should  they  ever  learn  Goyle  the  Great  doesn’t  approve  of  their  era.     ’              Lavender  isn’t  even  attempting  to  hide  her  sarcasm  anymore.   Customer  service  has  never  been  her  area  of  expertise  and  Markus  knew  that  when  they  put  her  in  charge  of  this  dumb  booth.   In  truth,  Greg  is  right.   She  is  just  as  bored.   Just  as  fed  up  too.   Enough  that  gaze  is  eyeing  the  temptingly - taunting  handful  of  galleons,   contemplating  his  offer.   It  doesn’t  take  her  long  to  decide.            ‘      Fine.  Double  it  and  we’ve  got  a  deal.  I’m  due  a  break  anyway.      ’             Enchantment  is  cast  as  Lavender  speaks  and  half  a  minute  later,   she’s  passing  back  his  caricature     —     the  one  that’s  now  successfully  flipping  off  whoever  looks  at  it.          ‘      But  for  the  record,   I  don’t  do  butt  tattoos  and  I  definitely  don’t  ink  other  people’s  names.   I  don’t  need  the  stress  when  whoever  it  is  inevitably  dumps  you  and  you  want  the  damn  thing  removed  for  free.   Still  interested?      ’

“Like I give two shits,” Greg huffs, arms crossed over his chest. A satisfied grin spreads on his thin lips, but only momentarily, eyes widening at the prospect, “Double? Now you’re breaking my bollocks here, Brown.” He takes his caricature back, impressed with its animation, but he won’t admit that aloud, and folds it to stuff into his pocket. “That’s too bad, I was ‘bout to ask you to tatt ‘ Lavender ’ on my right arse cheek as a commemoration of this moment between us.” Greg juts his bottom lip out in a pout, fist shaking up near his eye like he’s crying in mock hurt. “Guess I’ll have to settle for something else instead. How good are your spiders? I’m thinkin’ of one right here,” Goyle points to top of his right hand, the space in between his forefinger and thumb.

[ggoyle]

chacswins​:

The box needs to go in a bag or something, Alexander can’t believe he’s allowing something so personal and valuable be out in the open. He holds the silver box so gently in his hands, until it topples over onto the sidewalk and all the jewelry inside pools out. 

“Shit…Shit, shit, shit.” He mutters, collapsing on his knees to start collecting. But some gets kicked away as people walk and he has to refrain from cursing at them or taking his wand out and casting a spell he can’t take back. “Don’t! Don’t touch them.” He stops them before they could help.

It’s delivery day, meaning the newest shipment of cursed objects and other oddities were to come into Greg’s possession. The merchant had told Greg to meet him in the alleyway behind The Coffin House, where Greg was heading when he notices the commotion, several shiny objects clattering to the ground. Goyle’s fingers twitch in the inside of his jacket pockets, itching to touch and he bends down, pretending to tie his shoe ( but really trying to sneak the nearest jewelry ), but is caught mid-grab. His brow raises high on his forehead, the urgency in the other man’s voice causing Greg to stop and straighten. Instead, he taps the point of his shoe on the pavement next to the jewelry. “Why’s that, eh? Not gonna fall into a coma if I do, will I?”

[ggoyle]

graciieux​:

“i’m no gambler, goyle. i don’t know these things.” her words are accompanied with a gentle push on his arm that can only be interpreted as playful before she shakes her head, gaze shifting back to the game playing out before them and the disgruntled patrons that keep losing. thank merlin for the drink in her hands that has quelled any nerves she WOULD have - she knows all too well the dance of not KNOWING how to navigate a conversation with an old schoolmate after most actively avoided her after vincents passing. luckily, however, she doesn’t have to do that dance with greg, it seems. “i don’t - but i’m told i’m a quick learner.”

He rolls his eyes, swaying from Grace’s push, “For Salazar’s sake, why does everyone keep saying that? What’s the fuckin’ point of coming to a casino night event if ya aren’t gonna gamble?” Their gaze is averted to the losing patrons, Greg having been one of them hours earlier before he actually picked up on what was really going on. And if there’s one thing that Greg is good at, it’s numbers. “Good. There’s four steps in counting cards. Blackjack is the easiest to count. I’ll show you, let’s go to that table there,” He nods toward the next table target. There’s a pause, Greg’s gaze finding Grace and lingering over her, eyes narrowed almost as if in suspicion. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been up to? Besides the usual torment of Otto Crabbe. You laying low? I heard what happened at the memorial.”

[soffocamentos]

status: open to all

location: knockturn alley

maybe it had not been smart to walk about ALONE. but being stuck in a room with people she disliked irked to no end. so walkin about knockturn alley seemed the only acceptable choice. (yes, she knew how dangerous it was.) everything had gone well until someone bumped into her. merlin. with a tight hold on her wand she tried to keep walking, but the figure blocked her path. "move" gods iris, why can't you just keep your mouth shut?

[ggoyle]

soffocamentox​:

status: open to all

location: knockturn alley

maybe it had not been smart to walk about ALONE. but being stuck in a room with people she disliked irked to no end. so walkin about knockturn alley seemed the only acceptable choice. (yes, she knew how dangerous it was.) everything had gone well until someone bumped into her. merlin. with a tight hold on her wand she tried to keep walking, but the figure blocked her path. “move” gods iris, why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?

Greg preferred the night shift at Borgin & Burkes. It was during his shifts he would hear more about the moves Lestrange was making, the threat of another war still looming above them. It was also when Greg would make the most sales of the collection of cursed objects he’s managed to snag, from bartering all the way to pickpocketing. Tonight, he’s not in a good mood and is even more peeved when some bird knocks into his side and utters just one word. Move. Greg’s upper lip curls and he squares his shoulders when he faces her. “Why don’t you make me?”

[ggoyle]

endeavorisms​:

“No,” she echoes his sentiment–the one she already stated–just to have something to say. It all feels a bit silly now, hindsight being what it is. It was one kiss, after all, it wasn’t like they’d done anything genuinely intimate, right? There was no reason to implode a friendship that had lasted this long over one drunken mistake. Two months without talking feels silly in this moment, where things are maybe a little tense but mostly fine. And then he laughs. She can’t stop herself from looking up at him as he does, chest tightening at the way amusement looks on him, even as it fades quickly into something more embarrassed. Par for the course, she averts her gaze again but it’s harder to keep down this time, like she knew it would be. It hadn’t occurred to her even once that he couldn’t get a date, though she’d put a lot of effort within the last few minutes into avoiding the thought that he might. But the fact that he doesn’t have one, that he’d been unable to think of anyone he’d rather be here with…. that familiar itchy panic starts in her hands. Just to calm her ever-fluttering nerves, Otto takes a long sip of her drink and nods, gaze drifting from her drink to his, following the lines of his fingers. “I’d have asked you… if we’d been talking. Just…” She shrugs hopelessly, emotions all aflutter. “I wasn’t really sure if you wanted… to see me. After… y’know.” 

He averts his gaze, chewing on his bottom lip. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her or didn’t want to see her. In fact, it was quite the opposite. But they have known each other for so long, endured so much together, that it was terrifying to think what a simple kiss could turn into, if anything. Not to mention Greg knew he wouldn’t ever be romantically good for her, Otto much deserving of someone else, but perhaps Greg was getting too ahead of himself. Friends kiss, it’s not a big deal. But why did it feel that way? “I did,” he says, “I mean, I do. You’re one of my closest friends, Otto. I wasn’t gonna ghost you just because emotions were high and we kissed one time.” Saying it out loud makes his stomach flutter, unless it’s from all the booze in his system. “But I ended up ghosting you anyway, which was a shit move on my part. I’m sorry. I just,” Greg lifts his gaze, meeting Otto’s eyes, feeling incredibly pathetic and vulnerable. “I care about you, Otto. And I don’t wanna do anything to ruin that. We can just forget about it.” Easier said than done.

[ggoyle]

graciieux​:

a loaded die ? this is an added confusion for a mind that is learning ; grace is not one for games of luck ( if you asked her she has none ), but she attempts to humor them in the name of charity. that is, until greg intervenes. “uh-” she struggles to conjure up anything articulate, even if just for a second. can she be BLAMED ? likely not. not when speaking to someone who was once very familiar, even if just tangentially. “that’s a bit fucked, isn’t it ? but… with that knowledge, could you not use it to your advantage ?”

Gracie Moody was a name and face Greg hadn’t come across in a while. It’s been years since they’ve last spoke--since Vincent’s funeral, the reception a sad little gathering which made it nearly impossible not to speak to each other. Otto had mentioned her little blind Valentines Day date with the other girl, but other than that, Greg wasn’t sure he’d ever see Gracie again. He rolls his eyes, “Is the sky not blue?” If it were eight years earlier, perhaps Greg wouldn’t have even thought about using that knowledge to his advantage, but since then, he has certainly learned a thing or two. “It’ll always be in favor of the house. D’ya know how to count cards?” He doubts it, “Now that’s something we could use to our advantage.” 

[ggoyle]

endeavorisms​:

She feels his eyes comb over her, top to bottom, and Otto’s cheeks flush just the slightest bit pink. Blame it on the booze or the heat or the crowd or what the fuck ever. Blame it on anything but the truth. Eyes flit up to meet his for a fraction of a second, smile turning a fraction more earnest and less tense. He orders for them and she lets him, sure she wouldn’t be able to stop him even if she tried and less sure that she wants him to. After all, they’ve been dancing around this for a while and… well that thought leads straight to Valentine’s Day all over again. To the kiss that sent them both running in opposite directions for the next two months. To the way he walked her home even when they could’ve both apparated and then didn’t see each other until just a few moments ago. I would’ve came with you. Despite herself, despite everything, Otto laughs just a little. “We weren’t exactly, um, talking when I was making plans.” Her hand reaches out for the drink, eyes following it rather than looking at him again. Now if she can just avoid looking back up, maybe she can spare herself some embarrassment. It seems Greg’s doing a fine job of filling the silence on his own, anyway, and she’s content to let him go until he stops. “Are you, um…” She pauses, still staring at her drink, unsure if she even wants to task this. “Are you here with anyone?” 

He tries not to be jealous, he really does. But Greg has always been somewhat of a jealous and envious person, and now that Otto and his relationship has taken on a new meaning, it’s impossible not to feel some type of way, regardless of the fact she was only here with Finch-Fletchley platonically. “No, we weren’t,” He agrees with a breath. And shit, he should have said something to her after what happened on Valentine’s Day, shouldn’t have avoided her just because he uncomfortable with intimacy ( let alone, intimacy with one of his closest friends ), but there was no use dwelling on that now. After taking a long sip of his drink ( which will either help or obliterate this interaction ), Greg’s brow raises at Otto’s hesitation before he promptly bursts out into a snort. “Merlin, no,” he should’ve been much smoother about that and the realization has the grin wiped off his face in an instant. “I mean,” he clears his throat, recollecting himself and failing, “It’s not like I can’t get a date and shit. I just--” Greg pauses, unsure how to finish his own sentence. I couldn’t stop thinking about you sounds so stupid. This is his best friends sister! "I couldn’t think of anyone else I wanted to show up with.” A confession without being too outright was perfect. After all, they were still navigating---whatever this was---between them. Another pause before he adds, “Plus, I really didn’t feel like holding anyone’s hair back while they vomit, it’s a real mood killer.” 

[ggoyle]

dolors​:

dice     aren’t     anton’s     vice     of     choice     ,     normally          /          not     a     gambling     man     to     begin     with     ,     far     too     SHREWD     to     leave     it     to     luck          &          chance     𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎     .     apparent     lack     of     interest     doesn’t     stop     him     from     winding     his     way     around     varying     tables     ,     carrying     himself     with     all     the     inbuilt     arrogance     expected     of     him          !          carved     features     have     been     schooled     meticulously     inscrutable     ,     but     greg’s     𝐓𝐈𝐏          (          if     one     can     call     it     that          )     is     just     enough     to     have     the     beginnings     of     a     feline     smirk     edging     up     .          ❛          so     it     seems     our     gracious     host     is     a     liar          &          a     cheat     .     should     we     have     expected     anything     less          ?          ❜          not     a     stone     thrown     ,     no     ,     he’s     the     last     person     who     should     be     doing     anything     of     the     sort          —     -          that     stony     gaze     comes     to     appraise     his     unlikely     benefactor     ,     one     brow     ticked     upwards     .          ❛          you     have     a     GOOD     EYE     ,     i’ll     give     you     that     .          ❜

Greg does a double-take in disbelief, nearly choking on his whiskey and clearly star-struck. How did he not recognize the Minister for Magic? Not that they have ever spoken, but Greg has seen him in passing and working so closely with Ezekiel Burke made it hard not to overhear certain things. The Karkaroff’s were a powerful family, enough for Greg to be taken and almost jealous. Getting in on their business matters could mean great things, something Greg wasn’t going to pass up. This was his opportunity. “Minister,” he bows his head slightly, averting his gaze as a sign of respect which allowed him a moment to recollect himself. He clears his burning throat, “Thank you, sir. I do like to pay very close attention to detail. I am, after all, a business man,” A pause and he holds out a hand, “Gregory Goyle, sir. Are you enjoying your night?” 

[ggoyle]

LOCATION: casino night / belby estate! STATUS: open @startertms​

"Be careful. The die is loaded,” Greg mutters, a drunken and satisfied smirk on his lips as he leans over the persons shoulder, observing the craps table. He’s been watching the table for some time now, having made a few of his own bets before picking up on the way the dice landed and pulling out the moment he realized he was being cheated ( an art he was quite familiar with and would not be taken advantage of ). Perhaps he should have kept it a secret, but the booze loosens his lips and with the knowledge he does have regarding gambling, he’s eager to share this tidbit of information. “You can tell by the way they land. See? Those sides are favored.”  

[ggoyle]

endeavorisms​:

–

She looked at him, and now she’s sort of stuck doing so. Partially because of social norms and partially because frankly, she’s having a hard time looking away. It’s all a bit stupid and she wishes more than anything that she’d just looked at the bar or back at the crowd or literally anything other than at him, but here she is anyway. Nimble fingers play with the sleeve of her jacket as her eyes trace over the line of his jaw, the cleft of his chin. A smile pulls at her lips, perhaps only because she feels like it should, bashful and shy as it may be. “I guess I have to let you then, hmm? Since I’m the one who spilled yours.” She hates it as soon as the sentence is out of her mouth, half-flirtatious and half-anxious. Entirely ridiculous. Wait til Justin hears about that one later. “Oh. Uh…” It hits her squarely in the chest that she’s not sure if he’s asking to be conversational or if he wants to know for… other reasons. She’s more than a little afraid to ask. “No, um. Not a date. But I did convince Justin to come with me, and I can’t leave him alone in the crowd for too long, or he’s get himself into trouble somehow, I’m sure. Take an elbow to the nose in an impromptu moshpit or something.” An awkward laugh filters past her smile. “So…. yeah.” 

Greg’s gaze slides over Otto, “My thoughts exactly,” He’s grinning and he does nothing to hide it. In his state, it doesn’t even register until there’s a dull ache in Greg’s cheeks. Are they flirting? The thought strikes him as he motions for the bartender to put in their orders. She was checking him out though and Greg wasn’t exactly subtle doing so himself. Otto’s hesitation has him raising his brows, for a moment thinking that perhaps she was here with someone else and not in the platonic sense. But then she has his brows furrowing, the wheels in his brain turning to figure out who the hell Justin is, but when he remembers, it’s a little, well--uncomfortable. Greg clears his throat, swallowing his prejudice and jealousy despite Otto clearly stating it wasn’t a date. “I would’ve came with you,” The words slip from his mouth, the bartender handing them off their drinks and Greg meets Otto’s gaze again as he hands her the glass. “But it sounds like your friend has the right idea in mind. I would say if you lose ‘em, you could find me, but I’ll probably be the one starting an impromptu moshpit. Have you seen any sets you like? I gotta say, that Borgin bloke was pretty good.” Despite feeling himself rambling, Greg cannot stop. 

[ggoyle]

endeavorisms​:

She wants to kick herself ten times over. Of course he’d be here. Of fucking course. And it’s not like she has to avoid everything he goes to for the rest of time–not over some fluke of a kiss that probably didn’t mean anything, right, that would be ridiculous–but they managed two months of no contact and now… literal collision. And she’s managed to spill his drink all over his hand and the side of his cup and, by default, the floor. Clumsy doesn’t even begin to cover how she feels right now. “Hi,” she says again, as he murmurs her name with a kind of weight she’s afraid to put too much thought into. Frankly, Otto’s afraid to look up. To catch his gaze. To feel like a silly little girl with a silly little crush. Falling for her siblings’ friends? That’s not new to her. But it’s been years, she’s an adult now, she’s supposed to be over this kind of shit. And yet somehow, here she still is, with maybe possibly kind of feelings for Greg. Her dead, psychopathic brother’s best friend. Maybe it’s better if she’s a silly little girl with a silly little crush. The alternative is hard to consider. “I feel like I should probably buy you one, actually. Since…” One hand gestures to the spilled drink in his hand. Finally, gut wrenching, she looks up at him. “I owe you that much.” 

The surprise that initially shocked him subsides, replaced with something that feels a little like shame. Greg was never one to be bashful, and yet here he was, an awkward pause stretching between them, both of them too afraid to look at one another. “Hey,” He breathes in a chuckle before peering down at the drink now dripping down his elbow. A nervous laugh escapes him and he shrugs, “It’s no big deal,” It wasn’t up until Greg realized just who it was that bumped into him in the first place, if it had been anyone else he surely wouldn’t have brushed it off. He downs what’s left of the drink, the glass clanking onto the counter when he sets it on the bar. Another awkward pause as he swallows, the sour taste of booze on his tongue. “I’d rather get you one. Are you,” He trails off, trying to lean coolly against the bar, but he feels almost ridiculous. “You gotta date or something, or did you come by yourself?” Yeah, that sounded real cool.

[funnytwittertweets]

[ggoyle]

endeavorisms​:

location: the white wyvern; knockturn alley status: closed for @ggoyle​

She’s only meant to get a drink, straying from the company of one Justin Finch-Fletchley to find something to calm her nerves. The pub is quite full of people of all varieties, and while this generally helps in her feeling less like a stand-out and more like a face in the crowd, there’s still a bit of concern gnawing at the back of her mind. Solution? Some firewhiskey. Or honestly whatever the bartender will hand her first. And Justin’s company, of course, as he’s been a great friend for coming with her in the first place when he’s equally if not more uncomfortable being here. It’s as she’s stepping up the the bar that she knocks into someone, shoulders colliding, and apologies spill profusely from her lips as she rights herself. “Shit, Merlin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t–Oh.” It’s not that running into Greg here should be such a shocking thing. Hell, he’s more likely to frequent the place than she is in the first place. But it’s been quite a while since she saw him last and it’s not exactly been an absence that went unnoticed. Her cheeks immediately flush a bit and she looks down at her hands. “Hi.”

Greg was getting a refill at the bar for the next set when someone’s shoulder collides with his, the drink in his hand sloshing around down the side of its cup. "Fuckin’ hell!” The curse falls from his lips before he can stop it, before he realizes who’s bumped into him. The sight of Otto shouldn’t have caught him by surprise, but even still, he’s eyes widen and his face flushes, and he thinks he might be just a little too drunk for this. “Otto,” he breathes her name as he attempts to recover, now not even so much caring how sticky his alcohol drenched hand and wrist is. His gaze slides over her briefly before he has to remind himself not to so openly check her out. They’ve been doing quite well in avoiding each other and avoiding to address what happened on Valentines Day. It was just a kiss and they were both lonely, weren’t they? It didn’t have to mean anything. Right? His lips part, tongue tied for a moment, paranoid he’ll say something terribly stupid. Greg gestures toward the bar, “Can I get you a drink?”

[ggoyle]

frcgilis​:

( 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 ) — a muggle coffee shop (ignore that all my non-event starters are in coffee shops) ( 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 ) — open ( @startertms​​ )

“um,” adora said, walking up to the table she sat at during lunch. she tried to fight the blush that crept onto her cheeks but it wasn’t long before her face was hot and red. “this is a stupid question because this was a few hours ago, and i should’ve made sure i put the book in my bag before i left but it didn’t.” she stopped, took a breath. “but did you, um, see a book on the table when you sat down? i forgot it. when i left. and i was sitting there. earlier today. before i left.”

There’s something to be said about muggle coffee houses. They are terribly slow, taking their sweet times making beverages and not to mention the mistakes made during rush hours. There’s not much Greg actually enjoys about them, but they are a space to go to when he needs a place he won’t exactly be recognized in. At least, that’s what he thought. He doesn’t notice the book beside him at first, but when it does catch his eye, he flips through the pages, brow furrowed when he finds himself becoming immersed in it. At least, until someone pipes up and he glares at them from over the pages. Greg’s gaze softens when he sees it’s Adora, shutting the book closed and holding it out to her. “Y’know, you should be more careful with your things.” He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the seat. “Some people might not be as honest and would keep it for themselves.” Which had been his plan before knowing who the book belonged to.

[ggoyle]

endeavorisms​:

It’s incredibly safe to say that Otto is overwhelmed. Between the alcohol and the sudden change in atmosphere and the way Greg’s touch lingers on her skin (how long has it been since she’s been touched like that? She doesn’t remember now), it’s hard to keep her head on straight. There’s a blaze of heat across her skin everyone his hands have grazed, from her hip to the small of her back, to the hand he clasps in his own. There isn’t time to overthink it now, with the environment, the vibe if you will, changing rapidly around them. Fear ripples through her, hand gripping tighter around Greg’s. Even through the haze of fear and booze, there’s an impulse, an immediate tug in her gut, to find her sisters. Despite holding his hand tighter, she starts to pull away, eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces, lips parting in the beginning of something she’ll never finish. 

But she’s better off here, now, with someone she knows rather than charging off into the crowd alone. Surely Luca will find them both and everyone will be safe and it’ll all be fine. Surely nothing bad will happen tonight, and so long as she stays right where she is–well, there’s a better chance of being found than all three of them running around like chickens with their heads cut off, right? She looks up at him, expression stricken, and wonders how just moments ago all she’d been able to think about was wanting to have him closer. That same impulse flutters just under her skin now, still present but squashed down by current circumstances. There’s a part of her, a small part that’s unhindered by what’s happening around her, that wonders how long she’ll be able to keep it squashed. Or if it’ll rear its head again soon and cause her problems. 

“My sisters–” She starts, pauses, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as the whispers around them escalate, people becoming more aware, more anxious. “I’m sorry, I know we’re–” How does one even finish that sentence? “I just need to make sure they’re okay. Do you see either of them?” 

...

Otto’s hand grips his tighter as the atmosphere in the entire club shifts, the amorous mood and stirring within him gone. The apology on Otto’s lips is dismissed with the situation at hand now,  the whispering rumors growing, the room in an anxious panic. 

Curse the Crabbe’s for being such a massive family. Greg swears underneath his breath, back straightening as his eyes scan the room, neck craning as his head whips this way and that. Luca would surely be looking for their sisters as well and if they could find her, they surely would find the rest of their siblings. 

“We’ll find them,” He tells her though with the many rooms Amortentia has, it’ll be a challenge in figuring out if they are in this particular room at all. And if they aren’t--are Otto and Greg even allowed to leave? To exit one room and enter another? The question is a fleeting thought--fuck being allowed, when did that ever stop him before? He doubts they are able, but the liquor and panic does not mix well within him and if he has to fight then so be it. “We’ll have to get to Luca, it’s our best bet right now.” A pause as he looks at her, his lips pressed together. Greg squeezes her hand again reassuringly, “We’ll find them, I promise.” 

[ggoyle]

hoggleswart​:

Teeth  grind  and  though  Lavender  tries  desperately  to  remind  herself  the  customer  is  always  right,   it’s  clear  from  narrowed  eyes  that  she  doesn’t  believe  it  for  a  single  second.   This  wasn’t  exactly  her  idea  of  fun  either.   She  dislikes  drawing  caricatures  just  as  much  as  Greg  apparently  hates  having  his  drawn,  believe  her.          ‘     Do  you  do  anything  besides complain?     ’          His  own  question  is  fired  back  at  him  and  she  can  already  hear  the  lecture  it’ll  earn  her  from  the  boss  later.   They  aren’t  around,  but  somehow,  they  still  hear  everything.          ‘     You  haven’t  even  given  me  a  chance  to  enchant  it  yet.     ’          Hand  reaches  out  in  an  expectant  manner,  hoping  he’ll  pass  it  back  for  the  finishing  touch.          ‘     Something  tells  me  Camelot  probably  wasn’t  an  avid  supporter  of  tattoos,  so  you’d  probably  be  shit  out  of  luck  there.   You  could  always  shoot  your  shot  with  Markus,  but  I  don’t  think  you’re  their  type.    —    If  you  really  can’t  wait,  you  can  come  to  the  shop  later.  I’ve  got  some  late  night  appointments  available.     ’

His eyes roll exaggeratedly, clearly unconcerned with Brown’s clear annoyance, and thoroughly unimpressed with the festivities of the faire as a whole. For Salazar’s sake, maybe if he were ten years younger he would have found something to be entertained by ( stuffed his face with sugary concoctions, pulled a prank or five ), would have even found the enchantment of his caricature charming as he hands it back into Lavender’s open hand, but his mood has been sour all day. Maybe he wasn’t day drunk enough for this. “Whatever, I don’t even care about Camelot. The Middle Ages sucked arse anyway.” His arms cross over his chest, “Anyone could be anyone’s type if getting head is an option. Look, right now, you look as bored as I am and I know for a fact you’ve got the equipment. And,” Greg pulls a handful of galleons from his pocket, “I’ve got the cash. Tell ya what, give me fifteen minutes of your time and I’ll even throw in a little extra. Whadda say?”