OBLIVIATE!

celebrity is as celebrity does. gilderoy lockhart. twenty-two. author.

[gilderoyal]

               era aesthetics *!

BOLD all that apply!

MEDIEVAL: tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening to the bustle of the city. unmade beds. loose ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards. dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock. hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.

RENAISSANCE: freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks. drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your socks on.

BAROQUE: dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you. intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colourless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.

CLASSICAL: chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair. watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble sculptures. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading about mythology.

ROMANTIC: compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors. attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles.

[anselelgrt]

Ansel Elgort for L’Express Styles

[gilderoyal]

quillskeeter·:

most of the time, rita can feels his gaze on her. truth be said, she always feels people’s eyes on her, but there is something about the way gilderoy looks at her that feels different – it feels warm, almost fluttering. she never allows herself to think of that, however. she cannot. when he speaks up, rita cannot help the way porcelain cheeks burn a shade brighter. “and that is the first lie you have ever told me, gilderoy”, she replies – a sweet smile making its way to ruby lips. “because that? that is far from spinning straw into gold. that was a ridiculous attempt. i can do much better – i should have done better”, rita whispers. it crosses her mind that she is never quite able to open herself up like with anyone else, but gilderoy is different from all others. it is frustrating, in most days, how easily the man can get a smile out of her. but now, when rita is feeling like such a failure? his charming self is more than welcome – and she allows herself to wonder what it would be like if he was always around. at his compliment, the golden-haired woman cannot help but stand on her toes so that she can whisper in his ear. “i may have been inspired by your roses”, she admits, pulling away as her teeth dig into her bottom lip. she may be playing with fire, flirting with him in public, but he is the distraction she has been hoping for. “you look incredibly handsome as well.”

He knows better than to acknowledge the rare moment of authenticity she discloses. Instead, Gilderoy privately celebrates the victory — an exclusive look at the Rita Skeeter behind the facade. And in a public forum, no less! “Unfortunately for my craftsmanship, I fear those roses have met their match this evening. Gold is most certainly your color. And mine, evidently.” A twinkle in his eye as he examines his own formal ensemble. From his auric accents, to the shimmering cascade of her gown, they made a complimentary set — beautiful and deadly in the most ardent way. It made him wonder why they had chosen to attend individually when the obvious choice was plain as day.

Flagging down a house elf, Gilderoy procures two glasses of fine champagne and presents one to Rita. He’d been pacing himself throughout the night in anticipation of this moment. “I must confess, I’ve been a bit naughty.” Words wild with insinuation, he pauses to sip from the flute — intentional as ever. “Say someone, in his travels, happened to catch a glimpse of an auction roster. Purely accidental, of course, but at the sight of a certain name... why, he simply was unable to tear his eyes away.” Only now does he lower his voice to an inaudible murmur, just within eyeshot of the luminous woman. “As much as I appreciate the act of endowment, my services are at your disposal. No fare required.”

[gilderoyal]

bartycrxuch‌:

Barty hadn’t been expecting company but he didn’t mind it if it came in the form of Gilderoy Lockhart. At the very least he could count on him to keep things interesting. He had needed a small break or the next time some old woman asked him if marriage was on the cards for him, he just might react a little too strongly. Now that would be one hell of a scandal. Barty nodded, after all who didn’t like ice cream? He would have bet on it himself if Alice Fortescue hadn’t been so insufferable. “Well good luck to you still,” he said pulling on his cigarette and choosing to ignore the look Gilderoy had thrown him. “Oh yeah, this has been a blast. And all for a good cause too,” he added, “I bet on the weekend and the alcohol basket,” he paused for a moment before adding with a nonchalant shrug, “As well as Skeeter’s book.” 

Just like that, he is once again that precocious little fourth year, watching from afar as the saga of Rita Skeeter and Bartemius Crouch unfolds before his very eyes. He didn’t know her then as he did now, but the image of Rita coming back to school for her sixth year, more untouchable than ever, is one he’ll never be able to shake. Mindful to not let his features divulge his emotions, Gilderoy selects his next words carefully. “Ah, yes. Miss Skeeter’s literary debut — one of the year’s most anticipated new arrivals. Or so I’ve heard.” The temptation to boast about having snuck a peak at said piece is immense, but he couldn’t risk Rita discovering his moment of weakness. Instead, he prattles on — praising his fellow wordsmith in a completely unbiased manner before steering the conversation into more comfortable territory. “Now, you can’t put a price tag on charity, but I suspect it will be one of the night’s top sellers. Preceded only by my dinner, of course. Have I mentioned I’ve rented out the entirety of Madam Puddifoot’s for the occasion? She’s a dear friend.”

[gilderoyal]

dcgstar·:

merlin, even the cover of the book screams of posturing. sirius runs a hand along the spine of “break with a banshee” before flipping it open. he’d been curious before, about what makes this book so popular. but then as now, all he sees is a sea of purple prose. it’s about enough to make his eyes ache. never mind that there’s about as little point to this event as there usually is with these sorts of social functions, because that’s when he hears it. the thing is, sirius has a good ear for voices, even among the crowd – something about padfoot that’s carried over into his everyday life. so he knows, even before looking toward the source of the sound, that it’s lockhart. 

sirius grits his teeth. the other thing is, this is exactly the sort of setting where it’s hard to remember he’s an auror now, and that causing scenes is more likely to get him taken from active duty than he is to land a good one right on lockhart’s pompous – 

but dorcas is the wound that’s still new, and isn’t anger better than any of the other alternatives? sirius turns around before he can stop himself, book still in hand, and says, loudly, “you know, some people don’t like when some wan – some egotistical showboat’s dragging a dead girl’s name into an event that’s already for charity. dorcas – she’s not a publicity stunt.” 

Surely his ears have deceived him. Sirius Black, making such a flagrant scene where there were so many photographers present? He’d been following the recent society scandals through Rita’s column and was well aware of Sirius’ estrangement from his family, but never in a thousand millennia did Gilderoy think he’d show such reckless abandon on a night such as this. “I beg your pardon?” The sheer gall of the statement is enough to send smoke flying from his ears, but dragonskin loafers remain firmly planted as Gilderoy awards himself a moment to concoct an appropriate response.

Doe-eyed innocence soon becomes the affectionate chide of a disappointed parent scolding their young for misbehaving in public. “I’m choosing to ignore your crude insinuation, because I believe that is what Dorcas would have wanted, but I advise you choose your words more carefully from here on out. I’d hate for them to be taken out of context!” There is no menacing edge to his rebuttal, only the grand delusions of a man who genuinely means well. As offensive an accusation as this was, he’s chosen to give Sirius Black the benefit of the doubt this time around. It was the honorable thing to do!

[gilderoyal]

GREEK GODS & GODDESSES.

GILDEROY GOT : HERMES.

Hermes is considered a god of transitions and boundaries. He is described as quick and cunning, moving freely between the worlds of the mortal and divine. He is also portrayed as an emissary and messenger of the gods; an intercessor between mortals and the divine, and conductor of souls into the afterlife. He has been viewed as the protector and patron of herdsmen, thieves, oratory and wit, literature and poetry, athletics and sports, invention and trade, roads, boundaries and travelers.

[gilderoyal]

narcissatic·:

     She stood back, listening with arms cross and head cocked at the pretty words and the awe of the crowd around Gilderoy; she couldn’t help but admire him for his particular brand of witchcraft. He certainly knew how to charm the coin out of any witch or wizard, but she knew a thing or two herself and she wasn’t quite as easily bought. Still, she had to admit, she appreciated him all the same. 

     “Do you mean to tell me I have to buy your affections now?” She battered her eyelashes for only a moment before chuckling and letting her posture relax, hands clasped in front of her as she moved around him, looking at the line he spoke of. “You’re right, though. It seems everyone here has placed a bid.” Looking at him, she grinned. “Since they’re all so busy, why don’t I just keep you company now?” 

The last time he saw Narcissa Black, he had hardly recognized her beneath the London alleyway’s grime, lovely visage streaked with tears. Tonight, she looked much more like the tabloids presented her — dressed to the nines, aristocracy dripping from her petite frame. “You, Miss Black, mustn’t concern yourself with mundane things much as auctions and bidding. If you wish to bask in the glow of my ubiquity, you need only ask!”

Delight blooms across his features as he catches the eye of a Daily Prophet photographer. Merely interacting with one of the illustrious Black sisters was a treat in and of itself, but a picture — well, he wouldn’t be Gilderoy Lockhart if he allowed such a blatant opportunity to pass him by. Making a conscious effort to position his good side towards the shutterbug, his glittering regard never leaves the woman before him. “It appears we’ve stirred up some buzz. And in record time, no less! Shall we indulge the masses?”

[gilderoyal]

ofrosier·:

Evan hated waiting in lines and usually, he was able to combat the inconvenience by cutting through them if he was able to. But in an event such as this, it would be unprofessional and highly rude of him to do that and so, he was forced to stand idle for five insufferable minutes. Until he saw Gilderoy Lockhart which was fairly easy considering how commanding the man was with stealing the spotlight. By the time Evan approached the crowd gathered around the man, he was able to catch only the tail-end of his speech but he wasn’t disappointed.

His mouth curved with amusement unbidden and he almost succumbed to genuine laughter when he saw how shamelessly Lockhart had dropped Dorcas Meadows’ name. This man was truly one of a kind. Evan lingered in the background until the crowd dispersed before approaching the man of the hour. “Hello. Indeed, I have,” Evan said, smiling politely. “Oh, I have no doubt that it is.” He was surprised that he actually meant it. It had been so long since he was genuinely entertained by something and he found Lockhart to be so incredibly amusing. “Evan Rosier,” He reached out to shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Lockhart.”

Gilderoy examines the new arrival with a glimmer of intrigue. A megawatt attorney from what he could only assume was a good, old money family, Evan Rosier was a regular in both the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly’s list of Most Eligible Bachelors. Though he hadn’t the privilege of meeting Lothario The Litigator in person, Gilderoy recognized him from the latter. His own name had popped up on that very list these last few months, albeit further down the chain — something he intended to rectify as his star power continued to rise.

A moving image of Evan posing for a tabloid photographer or ferociously defending a client in the courtroom hardly did him justice. Frankly, Gilderoy was expecting someone more along the lines of a Lestrange, but the man standing before him seemed pleasant, brimming with interest as he stuck out his hand. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to have the Ministry’s best counselor in his pocket, should the day arise where he might need a favor. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Rosier. I’ve followed your career for quite some time now! It’s an honor to finally meet the truth-bringer in the flesh.” Years of practicing his signature handshake in the mirror come to a head as he grasps his neighbor’s palm. “I would be absolutely tickled if you’d allow me to personally escort you to the bidding table.”

[gilderoyal]

%

Send “%” for a CURIOUS text.

[ sms ➸ sirius ]: Are those your onyx curls I spy in the Witch Weekly style                           section, sporting a piece from Quintina Paisley’s new line?[ sms ➸ sirius ]: It appears we share some common ground after all. For                           I own the same coat, only in beige houndstooth!

[gilderoyal]

♀

Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text. 

[ sms ➸ alecto ]: I’m afraid the rumors are true, Miss Carrow.[ sms ➸ alecto ]: My publicist has pulled the plug on my heavily anticipated                          book tour due to security issues. I sense malarkey afoot.[ sms ➸ alecto ]: No matter. Care to help me drown my sorrows?

[gilderoyal]

quillskeeter·:

date: july 14th, 1979 time: 5:49 PM location: zabini estate status: open

delicate fingers circle back and forth on her champagne glass, a disinterested gaze gracing emerald eyes. she had never expected a gala to be such a bore – especially not one she is supposed to write a gossip column about. rita is so desperate she is considering causing a drama – if anyone can do it, it is rita skeeter. the blonde looks down at her golden gown making its way to the floor, eyes focusing on her sandals – eyes sparkling with a bright idea. at the first sign of incoming, rita sticks her foot out slowly. within a few seconds, the disaster has taken place. her victim has fallen on the floor and dropped champagne on everyone nearby – including one of the vases on auction that night. clearing her throat, rita makes her best concerned face as she leans forward to help the other. “oh merlin, are you alright?”

In theory, tonight’s event was an affair for the everyman — as far as Gilderoy was concerned, the real guest of honor had finally arrived. He watches with doting eyes as she sends relationships crumbling and cocktails flying with little more than an extended heel, waiting until the flushed witch scurries off before making his grand entrance. “Your gifts of spinning straw into gold never cease to amaze me, Rita.” Just the sound of her name on his lips feels incredibly intimate. Surely they were well past the initial formalities following their last moonlit encounter, but even still — just being in her orbit made Gilderoy feel undeniably stripped. Like those enchanting emeralds could peer right into his cavernous soul. “Forgive my candor, but you look absolutely stunning tonight. That gown is exquisite on you.”

[rpmememaker]

Send “✆” for a MORNING text. Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. Send “☎” for a RUSHED text. Send “⁇” for a DRUNK text. Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text. Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text. Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text. Send “#” for a RANDOM text. Send “@” for a SCARED text. Send “&” for a LOVING text. Send “%” for a CURIOUS text. Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text. Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text. Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text.

[gilderoyal]

bartycrxuch·:

date: 14th july 1979 time: 8:00 pm location: zabini estate status: open

Barty was in much better spirits this time around than he usually was at one of these things. Still, he had stepped out for a moment and for once, the air was warm and pleasant rather than chilly. There were a few people milling around but the grounds were vast enough to accommodate them. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips as he looked up at the clear sky, his eyes easily tracing the constellations. He heard footsteps behind him and turned around, blowing out the smoke before speaking, “Bid on anything?”

As the Weird Sisters launch into one of their more rowdy numbers, Gilderoy takes it upon himself to examine the outside terrace for any last minute stragglers in need of swaying. Young Bartemius, standing proudly at the helm of a thousand stars, was just another name on the long list of society darlings he planned to schmooze that evening. “I thought I’d toss my hat into the ring for Florean Fortescue’s item, but I fear the competition is a bit more fierce than I’d anticipated.” A slight frown pulls at his features, one he’s quick to replace with an amiable grin. Premature wrinkles? He’d have nothing of the sort. “All in good fun, I suppose! How about yourself, Mr. Crouch? Has anything inside tugged your heartstrings?”

[gilderoyal]

reguluslegatum·:

Regulus hadn’t been listening to half of the speech, really, they’d been more concerned with adjusting the sleeve on their robe or some piece of lint or…. Anything, really. Anything was more interesting than Gilderoy Lockhart pumping up his own ego. However, once the name Dorcas Meadowes came up, Regulus was immediately listening and disgusted. Was this guy really using the death of a girl to make himself more appealing? They did suppose that not much would make him more appealing, so maybe he had to resort to such measures, but even so, they couldn’t bear to listen to any more and tried to move away from the crowd of people.

But then, there he was, in front of them, grinning and shining. Regulus sighed and tried not to look at him, instead looking over his shoulder, so as to make themselves seem like they weren’t as interested in the conversation. “I’ll see if I have two knuts to spare at the end of the night. Then I might bid on you. For charity.”

To say he was delighted to find Regulus Black standing before him would be an understatement. Two knuts would hardly cover the profits he was expecting to make that night, but the sentiment surely came from the heart — and more importantly, from a Black. While Regulus wasn’t the ideal candidate for his immersion into Pureblood society, Gilderoy hadn’t had much luck with their cousins and reckoned it might be time to rethink his game plan. Perhaps it would be better strategically to start with a smaller fish like Regulus, working his way up to the Andromedas of the world in due time.

“No matter how big or small, your contribution to such a noble cause will be much appreciated!” He practically sings his response, visions of white teeth and humbled host. While he’d had little to do with putting together tonight’s festivities, Gilderoy was certain his presence provided quite the draw to those in attendance. “What an important time it is for we, as a society, to band together for the sake of unity. And speaking of — is your mother here tonight? I would love to finally introduce myself to the mythical Walburga.”

[gilderoyal]

alectxisms·:

So far, the evening had been rather boring, but then again, she’d only been around for about half an hour so maybe she shouldn’t write the gala of just yet. And just as she was thinking this, she picked up on Gilderoy’s last words which conjured an amused grin onto her lips. “Well, you’re certainly enjoying yourself aren’t you?”, Alecto responded cocking up an eyebrow as she took place in line right behind him. Casually she tug a a loose curl, that had found its way out of the updo, behind her left ear. It had been a while since she’d last seen him, but at least with Gilderoy Lockhart you could always count on things being the same. After all, it was downright impossible that a person so in love with himself would ever change. It was nice, especially considering how much things were changing at the moment. Not that  she’d ever admit that outloud. “Is it though? I mean your pleasantness of your company is without compare, but a drink would make waiting in line much more pleasurable.” 

She’s the picture of belonging, clad in formal wear with scarlet tendrils pinned high. Every guest, regardless of blood status or financial means, had arrived dressed to the nines that night. Even still, in a crowded ballroom lit only by candelabra and magic, Alecto Carrow commanded a certain presence that boasted authority clear as day. “What can I say?” he inquires, grinning broadly at his companion. Sharing a sober moment with the fiery-haired witch was rare occurrence indeed. It was almost as if they were meeting for the first time. “I’m a patron of the arts, Miss Carrow. Music, dancing — the opportunity to mingle with wixen of all statures. It feels like my first trip to Honeydukes all over again.” A musical chuckle tails the end of his sentence, eyes crinkling merrily at their corners. “If you’re implying what I think you’re implying, it would be my honor and privilege to personally fetch you a drink.”

[gilderoyal]

ofbelltrix·:

Bellatrix has kept her eyes on the auction items, and not for a selfish reason. Money can easily buy her anything that was being auctioned off if she so desired. But Bellatrix placed her bid on one item as though it was her duty to ensure that her name was on the list. Winning was not something she cared about but rather, who wins the prize is something much more intriguing. Though that will just have to wait until later that day.

Head turn towards the crowd surrounding the wizarding world’s biggest prick and her eyes instantly roll. Nothing in this world could make her like such a man and those who do, well, clearly they are deranged. Bella pushed through the crowd, trying to get past this item and on to the next. Let some poor sap have to deal with Lockhart for that night, she feels sorry for them but what she certainly does not want at all is his voice being directed at her. Bellatrix turns toward him with annoyance written all over her face. He didn’t even have to say a word, and she was already annoyed by his appearance. “ Oh I’m sorry, you are not Rita Skeeter. I’m placing a bet on her item. But yours? No. I highly doubt that you are worth anything. ” Cruel, yes. Needed to be said, absolutely.

A pang of envy surfaces in his gut at the woman’s harsh take. Nobody was more aware of Rita Skeeter’s talents than Gilderoy, but the blow to his ego was not a trade he’d come prepared to make. Smoothing the fine silk of his golden robes, he plasters on a grin in the face of adversity — he’d be damned if he let a critic, albeit one as upheld and well-regarded as the eldest Black sister, tarnish such a special night. “A comfort to know the remarkable Bellatrix Lestrange is a witch of both vast beauty and infinite taste. Rita is a dear friend of mine and her premiere volume, much like my own, is bound to be a best-seller.”

It is an uphill battle to will baby blues, trained on the polished marble of the Zabini estate, to meet her almighty stare. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised if he turned to stone the moment their gazes met. “In my most humbled opinion, whoever earns the privilege of sampling her work is a very lucky lamb! Now, if you’ll excuse me...” Placing a hand on her shoulder as means of goodbye was likely a careless mistake, but he’s too focused on slipping into the nearest powder room for a pep talk to consider the consequences.

[gilderoyal]

#fashion icon