music in my veins

Lorcan D'eath. Full time rock star. Part time vampire. Occasional student.

[hopkirk-blog1]

“In all my seven years at Hogwarts, I don’t think I’ve ever been down to see where the kitchens were.” Mafalda shrugged, tucking her hair behind her hair. “I’d love too, but don’t house elves have a habit of being quite the blabbermouths?” 

[royalshacklebolt-blog]

“How have you never been to the kitchens Faldy??” Lorcan scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. “Have you even lived?”

[lorcvndeath-blog]

gwcnogjones:

“Nope, you smoking hot traitor. You cheer for Slytherin, you’re no Ravenclaw.” But there was no heat behind it, and she just ended up poking her tongue out at him. “Oi, need I remind you that there’s a sweet piece of ass on the Ravenclaw team you should cheer for. Two actually. Damn, Ludo is gonna be so hurt.” She teased.

“So tell me, if Hufflepuff played against Slytherin and you cheered for Hufflepuff obviously, are you a Hufflepuff?” He looked thoughtful before he laughed. “Oh I haven’t forgotten about you and Ludo, don’t worry. You needn’t remind me, I was simply warning you so that if you see me wearing green you don’t fall off your broom.”

[lorcvndeath-blog]

gwcnogjones:

“Even if they’re gonna lose spectacularly?” She punched his arm playfully, grinning widely. “As long as you promise, then I guess you can stay my favorite Slytherin.”

"Hey now, no need for name calling," Lorcan said with a chuckle, nudging her shoulder with his own. "I'm not a Slytherin, just got a girl on the opposing team I think I oughta cheer for. Ravenclaw still has this sweet piece of ass."

[lorcvndeath-blog]

gwcnogjones:

“You’re the worst. You know you’re gonna be cheering for me.”

“I gotta cheer on the green side though...” He shrugged and laughed. “I’ll be wearing some blue too, though. Promise.”

[ghostsandgoblins]

[trcshqueen]

[trcshqueen]

aesthetics— VAMPIRES

The world changes, we do not, there lies the irony that finally kills us.

[gwcnogjones]

“Who here is excited for the Quidditch match? I’m 99.99% sure we’re going to win. Well… 100%, but i tried to maintain that .01% of skepticism for my health.”

[lorcvndeath-blog]

“I’m mildly anticipating it, G,” Lorcan said with a chuckle.

[lorcvndeath-blog]

ludobagmcn:

“They’re a real nightmare,” Ludo agreed, grinning easily as he stepped next to Lorcan. “Good for cardio though, I guess?” Lorcan had been away for a while, and Ludo didn’t know exactly how long, only that there’d been a distinct lack of him in the common room. Ludo wasn’t someone who was good at that kind of thing, anyway, generally preferring to laugh than anything so he didn’t know how to approach it—didn’t know if he should.

"The worst!" He said, laughing as he spoke even though a small part of his mind said he knew what nightmares really were and it was the person he became that night. Still - he laughed because he was Lorcan and Lorcan laughed so he did. "Yeah mate, you know I gotta burn off all the blood I binge, full of calories."

[lucindatclkalot]

Lucinda Talkalot, it must be said, was not well-versed in Valentine’s Day traditions. It wasn’t something she’d ever considered a shortcoming—at least, not until she’d found herself out of her depth when she actually received a Valentine. The level of speechlessness it had caused had been alarming at least, and her lack of ease in writing him a response had caused her no little consternation. It was time, Lucinda decided, catching sight of a blood-flavoured lollipop in the Unusual Tastes section of Honeydukes, that she got a grip on herself and tried to balance the scales. She purchased it along with, after a moment’s deliberation, some Pepper Imps—her absolute favourites. Besides, she wasn’t entirely sure if blood-flavoured lollipops were better gags or legitimate gifts, and so pepper imps would at least be edible if necessary.

It was relatively easy to find Lorcan. Lucinda tuned out most students in Hogwarts, and she had a keen knack for locating those she actually registered—and somewhere along the way, Lorcan d’Eath had worked himself into that category. Coming up from behind and slightly to the side—downwind, so he wouldn’t be able to smell her if that was even a thing he did when people approached, but with fairly firm footsteps, stomping through the snow—Lucinda didn’t even bother to say hello, simply brandishing the blood lollipop at him as she leaned against the rail in front of him. “It’s not cherry,” she said by way of greeting, the faintest of smiles playing at her lips, tone somewhere between brisk and wry. “Didn’t know if you’d need any more sugar on your fangs, considering some of the drinks you mix.” That was almost teasing, and while it wasn’t much from most people, Lucinda was aware, but it was companionable from her—almost unprecedentedly so.

@lorcvndeath

[lorcvndeath-blog]

The presence of Lucinda Talkalot seemed to be one that caught his senses in a trap. He didn’t know when that had occurred exactly - after which conversation the shift had happened. He was clueless. Yet, as she approached him, trudging through the snow (which didn’t bother him at all as he stood there in a light sweater) it was as if the entirety of his mind was only on her. And that wasn’t something he was accustomed to. No, he was rather used to being able to focus on several things at once and still be successful in completing all of them. Yet she was all he could see, hear, smell, think about as he watched her, leaning against the railing as well. 

“No fucking way,” he said, chuckling as he took the candy from her. “You’re kidding, you’ve gotta be kidding.” He was still laughing as he took the wrapper off, sucking on it before a smile spread across his face. “That’s amazing. I didn’t even know they had those anymore!” His smile, as genuine as ever, morphed into a bit of a smirk. “So you liked my fangs, then, eh?” He rolled the sucker around with his tongue and grinned again. “Took a lot of hard work and talent.” He didn’t know how he felt about Valentine’s Day. His dorm was full of cards and chocolates from girls whose name he didn’t remember, nor did he care to. And yet there was Lucinda’s on his bedside table, separated from all the others because for some reason, hers meant something. He read it so many times he had the words memorized - the loops of her writing burned into his brain and he smiled again. “Your card was rad too,” he told her with a wink. 

[lucindatclkalot]

Lorcan, d’Eath, Lo I can’t believe how many times you manage to work in referring to yourself as “Bat Daddy” in your life, honestly.

I’ve never sent one either. This is harder than it looks thank you for sen I don’t know what to say Or received, actually. Which probably sounds sad or I’m not meant to say Thea is too busy describing flirting techniques to Reg for me to ask but I’ve never cared bef before. I don’t really know what to say either. I mean 

Thank you. (I decided to start a new line. Seemed less messy. Believe it or not, structure is actually one of my strengths, despite all evidence to the contrary). For sending me that, I mean. 

You’re not a monster. A monster isn’t—you’re not born a monster or made a monster or even one because of something terrible you do. It’s choosing to do it again and again and to buy into it. ( And of course I’m not afraid of you. Exasperated, maybe, but not afraid. Fangs or not, I’ve met real monsters you call yourself Bat Daddy. I’ve met worse. Better ways to refer to themselves, though. Usually just “I”. Surprisingly effective, actually. )

This is alarmingly messy and clearly not my forte and I am going to send this before I set it on fire instead. Thank you. Might have to cash in these vouchers after the next match. 

— Lucinda

P.S. I would draw something, but it seems silly to draw the Captain’s badge and I don’t know how to draw anything tough and Puerto Rican or Welsh except for maybe a Welsh dragon or an angry cookie. I liked your fangs, though.

@lorcvndeath

[lorcvndeath-blog]

the pretty lies & the ugly truth // rita + lorcan

[lorcvndeath-blog]

writingritaskeeter:

It wasn’t as if Rita had intentionally gone looking for something to eavesdrop on - at least not this particular time. She had truly been just making her way from the dungeons, she had more pressing matters in the form of Ludo Bagman to attend to out by the shed the brooms for flying classes were kept in. It was out of her control that she just so happened to hear the overly frustrated sounds of distress coming from the other end of the corridor, the silence in the rest of the hallway making it easier for her to pick up just whom was talking. It was nearly impossible not to recognize the voice of Lorcan D’eath when it rang throughout the ancient, empty hall. Similarly, Rita had noticed the absence of the boy as well over the past few days. With an ego as big as his, it was nearly impossible for someone as observant as Rita to not notice the lack of desperate ‘I’m a rockstar’ type pick up lines, and the ever so humiliating ‘bat daddy’ name he gave himself.

But what she was overhearing wasn’t some plea for sex or him trying to serenade some girl into his bed, no, this seemed serious. With the knowledge of his brief disappearance in mind, Rita made sure to clear her surroundings before she transformed into her beetle form, the small black bug scurrying up and along the wall until she was perched perfectly behind Lorcan and her fellow Slytherin, Lucinda. What she ended up hearing was more than she’d expected - and it was all solid information. She listened through the duration of the conversation, waited until she had assumed both parties had fled the scene and then stupidly transformed back into the petite blonde state that she regularly existed in. “Christ” Rita barked, hand falling to her chest quickly as her heart nearly caught in her startled throat. Hadn’t he gone? She’d made sure of it - she wouldn’t have transfigured herself back into her human state if she hadn’t been one-hundred percent sure. Fuck. How did he know? He couldn’t have seen..

“Listening to what? Jesus, honestly, give a girl a heart attack on her way to the loo why don’t you!’ She snapped back, playing innocent despite her heart thudding nervously in her chest. “Can you move now, D’eath? I’m sure there’s a girl in need of a pathetic pick up line somewhere around here.”

“Tell me, Skeeter,” Lorcan said as he crossed his arms. “Do I look like an idiot to you?” He found himself once again trying to act threatening and he didn’t like how it felt like it suited him. “The loo is that way, and I didn’t hear any footsteps indicating you’d been coming that way. Just a sudden, like, thud of feet,” he told her with an eyebrow raised. “So it’d probably be easier for both of us if you just explained why you’re here, what you heard and how you just... appeared.” Because if she’d heard something then everyone would look at him and see what he’d become. She’d tell them all the horrors that had spilled past his lips. The nightmares he’d weaved with his words.

The monster he really was.

“Besides,” he started. “Whatever you heard I’m sure you heard wrong. You were quite far away. And not everyone is as blessed with vampire hearing as I am.” Because he was trying desperately to keep this a secret. To keep it under wraps. Because oh my god he’d done the worst possible thing and then he went and broke down over it and didn’t even make sure no one had heard him. You keep fucking up, he told himself, running his hands down his cheeks. “I just used a pathetic pick up line on Lucinda, and it didn’t work out. Didn’t you see? That’s what just happened.”

[pettigreww]

      “Gotta love those post-Christmas sales,” said Peter to himself, carrying a box filled with things from Zonko’s and Honeydukes, as well as some supplies for a new banner for the oncoming Quidditch match. 

[lorcvndeath-blog]

“Hell yeah, man.” Lorcan said to the boy who’d passed him. “What’d you get?”

[lorcvndeath-blog]

the pretty lies & the ugly truth // rita + lorcan

@writingritaskeeter

He waited until Lucinda had left, nodded once more to assure her that he was feeling better now, he wasn’t going to go on some sort of killing spree through the school. He was better now. Except as soon as she was out of sight he whipped around on his heel, the hood of his jacket spinning with him as he narrowed his eyes on the direction he’d heard a shift from. A shuffle, almost, something so quiet it didn’t seem to catch Lucinda’s attention, but with his emotions running as high as they were (and his superior genes) he had been alerted to it immediately. So he rushed and he found a small blonde.

Now, in Lorcan’s experience small blondes were typically quite good news, but considering this one - Rita Skeeter - had clearly heard about everything that had happened, it was not going to be fun. So he stood up, crossed his arms. “What did you hear?” He asked her, trying to look menacing. “Why were you listening?”

[tortures]

[expectatvalentines]

To: Lorcan D'Eath, From: Hestia Jones– with Fizzing Whizzbees attached

@lorcvndeath

[lorcvndeath-blog]

“Oh how I missed you, Hogwarts and your stairs that are on a mission to test my patience,” Lorcan said, forcing a laugh past his lips. 

[lorcvndeath-blog]

ain't no sunshine // lorcinda

[lorcvndeath-blog]

lucindatclkalot:

Lucinda Talkalot, by nature, was an observant person. She liked to figure things out, especially without asking for help, because she had learned from a young age that the only person you should rely on was yourself. Observational skills were an integral part of that package. It was fair that a solid percentage of her classmates were unaware of this fact, though, because Lucinda very often did not apply it to them. Lucinda was not interested in unravelling the mysteries of Gilderoy Lockhart’s dalliances, as she did not find Gilderoy a particularly intriguing character, full stop. In fact, she had very little patience for him, and given her general lack of patience with most, this meant that her preferred approach was to disregard him entirely. This was the approach Lucinda chose to take when it came to most of her classmates, it must be said, preferring only to take note of those she deemed relevant or a worthy use of her time.

As a general rule, this meant Quidditch players and the occasional skilled linguist or Slytherin. There were some others that she was aware of, largely due to an irritating frivolity and their habit of exasperating her, but that was a very grudging awareness, sparked mostly by their antics reaching such a level in which she had no choice but to take notice, usually leading to an unimpressed, impatient reaction from Lucinda. Generally, though, the people who took her notice were a select few, and usually, at the least, Quidditch-adjacent.

This is why it hit her so abruptly when she noticed the absence of one Lorcan d’Eath in class. At first, she put it off to skipping, far more concerned with when Lorcan had managed to get off her frivolity radar and onto her genuine radar. Ever since he’d barged into her compartment, she supposed, he’d been slowly becoming a real person to her, which wasn’t exactly an expected turn of events, nor one she knew what to do with. Uneasily, she eventually decided that anyone with whom she could have fun—and she had, at New Years, even if there was alcohol involved, because it was very rare for anyone to be able to convince her to let go; usually, it was Anthea—was someone that made sense for her to be aware of, and returned to focussing on Quidditch. Or so she thought. Because Lorcan d’Eath didn’t show up for any of their shared classes that day, nor the next, nor the next. By the third day, Lucinda was actively scanning the Ravenclaw table, brow furrowed and trying to piece it together. By the fifth, she was highly tempted to just pull Ailyn or Mundungus to the side and figure out if they knew, but there were two problems with that: one, why did she care, and two, she had a policy of not letting people know when she was curious about something. It felt too much like power.

Luckily for her sanity, on the sixth day, as she was walking back to the dungeons, she found him. Or, more accurately, he found her. He was in her path and she was stopping before he even said her name—Lucinda did not stop easily when she had purpose, but she’d been annoyingly aware of his absence for five days, and suddenly there he was, saying her name like it was an exhalation instead of an address. Absolutely none of it was anything she was prepared for, which she usually loathed, but something about the way he looked derailed that. Instead, she nodded and followed him, stopping as he slid down the wall. Hesitantly—she was not good at this, why would he come to her, instead of anyone widely considered to have emotional experience or usefulness?—she sat down beside him, tucking her legs in beneath her.

Lucinda ran his words through her mind and, after a moment, frowned slightly. This solemnity—this disappearing act—was such a departure from the Lorcan she had cultivated in her mind over years of knowing him, from the Lorcan that she knew from their last few interactions—a maddening creature, as exasperating as he was the first day he walked into her compartment, all unrepentant grins and laughter and careless hair flicks, but genuine too, eyes lighting up at the mention of music, humming songs under his breath, grinning at her as he said she beat him at his own game—that she almost didn’t know what to. But Lucinda Talkalot had never not been capable for a day in her life, and she did not intend to start now. She herself had a poor grasp on morality—or perhaps a good one that she elected to ignore when necessary—but even she knew that doing a bad thing didn’t have to make you a bad person. The biggest indicator of that, in her opinion, was the inability to identify your actions as wrong. And so she scooted slightly closer—slightly—and looked at him intently.

“I don’t know what you did—don’t know if you want to tell me,” not that she’d blame him, being one of the least forthcoming people in the castle, though he’d managed to get an alarming amount of conversation out of her over the last two months, “but.” She paused. She was not good at this. She decided to try to be as straightforward and honest as possible. “The fact that you’re calling it a bad thing probably means you’re not a bad person, if that’s any consolation.” Lucinda paused again, struck by an unfamiliar and mildly alarming desire to try help. “Is this to do with why you’ve been gone for five days?” she asked. Maybe he wanted to talk about it. She’d heard that helped. She didn’t know, herself. All she knew was that he looked wrecked and—given her own fairly authoritative classifications of her family by virtue of their sin—if she could help him untangle this knot about doing a bad thing, she would. She would not lie to make him feel better. Everything she had, it’d be honest. If he was prepared for that.

“My dad is dead.” Because he did want to tell her. Even though saying it out loud, releasing the words and the truth to the world meant it was no longer solely his and also brought something like finality along with the admission, he wanted to tell her. “Someone killed him, but the Aurors won’t say anything and the Prophet won’t either.” He didn’t know what to do now, with secrets he’d bottled up for 5 days in his solitude spilled into the air. He pulled his knees up a bit, resting his elbows on them as he ran his hands through his hair. Shaking his head he told himself to breathe. “I don’t want to scare you.” It was a whisper again, because somewhere along the line she had become something more than a challenge like she had been that first day. No - she was no longer a challenge though that would have made life much easier to live. He wouldn’t be so scared of scaring her. Because if scaring her meant losing her he didn’t know if he was brave enough to do that.

“I am bad,” he said, as broken as ever. “I did what everyone expected of me, I broke.” Because he BROKE. He destroyed everything he’d done over his entire lifetime, all the work and all the jokes and all the times he didn’t conform to everything everyone expected of her. He watched it crumble in front of him as he sat there in that hallway, everything becoming far too real in the walls of this castle. “I wanted to kill him, I tried to kill him I-I found the guy who did it and-and…” He lost his breath. He didn’t know how to get it back.

He lost himself and he didn’t know how to get that back either.

But he did breathe, he remembered how to breathe. “I broke him and I-I…” I drank his blood. He nearly said. “I broke my rule.” He actually said. “I don’t want to scare you, I don’t want to scare you I’m so scared I don’t know what I’ve become I’m sorry you don’t need to hear this.” And by then he didn’t know what he was talking about, where he was going with his words. “My dad would hate me.” And then finally a single gasp of a sob passed his lips and shook his head. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry this isn’t who I’m supposed to be. Oh my god, I don’t know how to be who I’m supposed to be.”

Because Lorcan d’Eath certainly wasn’t supposed to be someone who gasped in the hallways over a girl he didn’t mean to like so much because he was supposed to play guitar in the courtyard and joke about biting. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. Putting his head in his hands, he hid in the darkness of the world behind his hands because the world outside was so much darker but his mind was the darkest and there was no escape from that. “You don’t have to stay with me Lucinda,” he said as he stayed hidden. “I just needed to see you and I don’t know why but I did. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”