cities in dust

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[regulusregno-blog]

@dxgstarblack​

               i saw you in the street on sunday, you were the barista at my coffee-shop, a crooked grin and a teasing word, a piercing in one ear that shone when it hit the light. i paid and i left, and it seemed to me that you caught my eye as i went out the door.

               i saw you again on tuesday, in the back of a man walking on the high street- with a briefcase and in a suit- but i couldn’t help staring at the dark hair, at the way the cigarette smoke drifted in the air. until you were gone, and i was still standing, and when i looked down my palms had crescents carved down in the skin.

               i saw you today, in the cracked shards of a mirror, hanging on the bathroom wall                you were a mess, your dark eyes crying, but i reached out, and could only cut my fingers on the edges of your reflection

[purebloodperfection]

She wanted to ask if he was sure but doesn’t for the fear that he would change his mind. “Good,” instead she smiled and squeezed the hand holding hers, “I will add your name to the guest list then.” It occured to her to ask him then if he wanted to walk her down the aisle, but she decided to wait a bit. They have to get to know each other all over again.

There were so many things Narcissa wanted to say, wanted to ask. But where to start? “I was recruited by one of the top law companies in Britain. I start working there in a month.” Maybe that would interest him. After all, he had been the one who pushed her to go study in the first place.

[regulusregno-blog]

“A law company,” he repeats, as if he had not already known. But it sounds realer somehow, coming from Narcissa herself, and the smile that tugs on his lips is somehow terribly sad. Maybe it’s the nostalgia suddenly coming along again, but there’s a slight pain in his chest, something insidiously crawling inside and leaving itself there in all the small spaces that are weak to the vulnerability of the moment. There’s no reason for it, no reason at all. At the realization he’s still holding Narcissa’s hands Regulus pulls back, draws away enough that the distance between them is respectable once more.

With a slight shake of his head the unwarranted sensation of aching is gone, sinking back into the murky depths of his subconscious. “It... looks like a lot of things have changed, since then. I’m glad for you.”

[iminlovewiththisfeelingnow]

[regulusregno-blog]

iminlovewiththisfeelingnow:

Sen Mitsuji for Empolham FW 16

[regulusregno-blog]

so uh? how late is this particular ooc message? I guess I should at least have one on here. just for the record, right?

I’d like to say 1 year anniversary, but this is a whole nother blog, and I kinda left for like 7 months in between, so... haha. \o/ at least I can say it’s 1 year to when I first joined fn \o/\o/\o/. FN is like. Idk. The first and only RP group I’ve been in for any long period of time- maybe it’s the only real RP group I’ve been in as well, ahah. SO MANY MEMORIES. ALL THE SHIPS. ALL THE FEELS. ALL THE LOVE

this blog is still gonna be around. and im still gonna be around. AND IMMA POUNCE ONTO EVERYONE AND GIVE HUGS UNTIL THE WORLD IS A HAPPY PLACE YES

and tbh beth made this all come to life and you guys made this such a great place and tbh maybe its just me getting attached to the only tumblr rp group i ever properly was in but IM GOING TO HUG ALL OF YOU. ALL OF YOU. FOREVER. I WONT LET YOU GO

errrrrrr my personal is inactive, but you can follow me anyway for when I get back to it! (It’s mostly a writing/fanfiction/community thing blog anyway). 

back to work ahaha

[prestigiousrosier-blog]

Evan had recognised the young Black the moment he walked through the door, and the harsh comments were meant entirely jovially, a broad smile on his face when Regulus turned to him. “I’ve always had a wonderful sense of humour, it’s you that never learned to take a joke.” Vaguely related through marriage, Evan had never really forgiven Regulus for dropping out of Oxford when he did. It had been understandable on the death of his father, yet still, there was something about an Oxford education that did wonders for a man. “Are you here on business or pleasure?”

[regulusregno-blog]

In truth, he’s always been a little envious of Evan. His way with people, the easy charisma that came so naturally or it seemed to Regulus, as if the man had never needed to learn his charm. It’s a relic from a long period of envy and inexplicable dislike that worms a disparaging comment onto Regulus’ tongue, one he swallows back in favour of a sigh.

“Both,” he responds, and after a pause he approaches Rosier to pull up a chair, a wan smile on his lips. “Though my appointment hasn’t turned up yet. Yourself?”

The classic problem with the upper class, he reflects. Business for them always had to be tied in with pleasure, and perhaps Regulus should just be grateful it was here and not at some less proprietary establishment.

[purebloodperfection]

“That’s a pity,” she said in earnest, “but I am sure the right one will come along soon.” The glint in his eyes told Narcissa that he longed for somebody as well. Maybe even needed somebody at his side. If there was one thing Narcissa knew, it was that the Death Eaters was a lonely business. People feared, not loved. It changes people until they become monsters.

She sat forward in her chair, watching Regulus expectantly. Of course he would come, she was his Cissa. He wouldn’t allow the business to keep him from the most important day in her life… Would he?

The longer the silence stretched, the more her fears started eating at her. They wouldn’t be there. Nobody would be there. Not Bellatrix or Regulus or Sirius.

She looked away, had to look away otherwise he would see the tears glistening in her eyes, “Forget it.” The words came out softer than she had meant it, with less conviction. “Forget I asked. It was silly.” For a lack of a better distraction, she looked around for a waiter, not that she wanted to order anything. It just helped her keep her eyes dry.

[regulusregno-blog]

"No-” he says, and doesn’t have the time to be surprised at himself for how quickly he speaks. Nor time to wonder at the faint desperation that has crawled into his voice, pathetic and low. It feels like so long since he’s seen Narcissa, so many years, so many things that are different. It feels like no time has passed at all. “No, I’ll come. I would like to come.”

It’s impossible, in that moment, how much he wants to reassure his cousin of that, and without thinking he’s reached his hands across the table, has taken her hands into his own, needing to give her something, a sign, anything- something to tell her what he’s trying to say without needing words for it. It’s not even about the invitation, now, it’s about something else, something more- even if he doesn’t know what.

He shakes his head minutely, “I’m sorry, I just...” he licks his lips, and he doesn’t know how to explain it, the hesitation, the stutter of apprehension that had overcome him. He smiles instead, a little pained, “Yeah... I’d. I’d be honoured to go.”

[devoted-carrow]

Keep reading

[regulusregno-blog]

Regulus lets himself be manhandled into the alleyway- there’s a hint of a breathless smirk on his lips when his back lands against the wall with a thud, and he knows already there will be bruises on his side come the morning- but bruises that will never come to the light before they fade.

He can feel the cold of the wall through his thin layers of clothing, and it’s as if there’s nothing between him and the brick scraping into his spine. But all of that is secondary to the heat pooling in his belly, the heat of the moment and the heat of Amycus who is too close to him, too close and not close enough, and Regulus presses every inch of him that he can against the man, feels the aching emptiness inside him and needs for it to be filled. There’s something almost carnal, almost primitive in the desire Amycus had stared at him with, something that forwent recognition and conscious lust, and his eyes- his eyes had stopped Regulus up short for the barest instant in time, the look in them that made him feel like prey.

It’s odd, that. He always notices something else- something different about Amycus, every single time. The first time had been the voice, the easy roundness of it that had drawn Regulus to him in the first place, made him notice the man- he had memorized the cadence of that voice, the sharpness lurking underneath the smooth words, had memorized it all that night without realizing. The second time- that had been when he’d noticed the softness, the soft of the skin that had lingered under the stubble on Amycus’ cheek, the softness of the features under the cold eyes and the razor-edged smile- he could still see it now, under the shadow that was cast over the other man’s face. Right now though- right now it was the eyes. Funny, Regulus hasn’t really noticed his eyes before- almost muted in their colour, not something that ever stood out in the light of the sun. They are shining now, in the darkness. He wants to pull Amycus’ head up by his hair and look at him- really look at him, memorize the blue-gray of his gaze, the glitter of them that is almost unnaturally bright, lit by some overhead window.

And he wants, more than that, to stop thinking about anything and to lose himself in the feeling. It was easier to forget things in the morning, when you didn’t take them into yourself in the night. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back instead, until he can feel the hardness of the wall against his head and his neck is an arch, and it grounds him to the moment. He’s already half hard, and as one of his hands finds its way to the back of Amycus’ jacket, tightening a fist against the small of his back, the other curls its fingers into the brick of the wall, ignoring how the chipped edges and rough corners drag at his skin. He lets Amycus do all the work, content in his impatience to rut against him for now, the layers of clothing between them too tight, too restrictive.

[purebloodperfection]

“No girl yet?” At least if he had somebody to take care of him Narcissa could stop feeling as guilty. They were supposed to look after one another – Sirius left, Bellatrix left. Regulus had been all she had left, and vice versa. Then his parents died and it all went down the drain. He was supposed to leave with her, start a new life somewhere else.

Remembering the coffee, she picked up the mug, drinking a bit before answering his question. “I have been… Well. I suppose. Life is good.” She still had nightmares – moments where Amycus had to wake her up and hold her otherwise she would freak out completely. But they were just that, nightmares. It was no longer part of her life.

“Not yet,” she shook her head, “we are waiting for things at my work to settle before finalizing plans. I do hope it won’t take longer than three years though.” Although he didn’t say it, Narcissa was sure Amycus was waiting for a more decent career before having her take his last name. It wouldn’t place her in a good spot if she, state’s prosecutor, had a husband in jail. With a lot more hesitation than normal, she asked, “If I invited you… Would you come?” Perhaps he could walk her down the aisle.

[regulusregno-blog]

He smirks, half amused, half wry. It’s an expression more honest than he’s been in a long time. “No,” he responds, and wonders briefly- a bitter thought, if going out and finding one-night stands in shady bars and alleyways counted as having relationships. He’s envious of Cissa, just a little. Engaged. He wonders what her Amycus is like, wonders what kind of life they have, and absently opens the lid of his frappuccino, takes a sip of the semi-liquid. He’s fairly sure it’s going to melt if he doesn’t start drinking it.

He almost asks where she’s working- there’s already curiousity deepening on his features, even though he already knows where she works. He doesn’t know what she’d think about him keeping up with her affairs. Either way, it’s... it’s probably best to just pretend he’s been completely out of touch. Out of her life, maybe.

If I invited you... would you come? If she invited... his thoughts stutter to a halt. Stop. If.

She’s inviting him to her wedding, he thinks. Him.

Yes, yes I would come. Of course I would. Of course. Of course.

But the words stick in his throat- he opens his mouth, and the words stick there, on the tip of his tongue, not coming out.

[purebloodperfection]

For a moment his words caught Narcissa off guard, “What?” she looked down at her ring and it struck her that Regulus wasn’t even aware of the engagement. What does it say of a family when nobody knew each other anymore? “Yes, I am. Thank you.” A hesitant smile formed on her lips, “To Amycus… Carrow.  I don’t know if you can remember him.”

Narcissa and Amycus had met in their teens. He was the first real friend she had and they had bonded over terrible fathers and overall unhappiness. To say that she loved the man would be a lie - not in the way a woman was supposed to love her fiance - but in their own twisted way. They needed each other to fill the void. And the sex more than made up for what they lacked in heart.

Her eyes traveled over her cousin once more. Now that the initial shock was gone, she could take in more. No ring, so woman yet. He looked good, handsome even, clearly the Black genes served him well. “How have you been?”

[regulusregno-blog]

Amycus.

Regulus doesn’t remember him. He doesn’t think they’d ever met each other. He doesn’t think he even knows the name (not the one Narcissa means, anyway). But...

Amycus- no. No. Now... that he thinks back- hadn’t Cissa mentioned him, before? Hadn’t she talked about him, just once- maybe twice, a mention in a sentence that was gone as fast as it came. He remembers being fairly curious, remembers putting it out of mind. But they had never met. They had never... met.

There’s a cold feeling, in the pit of his stomach. A cold feeling that isn’t going away.

How rare was a name like that. A name like Amycus.

“I’m well,” he responds, automatically, and takes the chance to cut off that train of thought there and then.

Is he well? Regulus doesn’t know, in all honesty. He’s thriving- or, at least, the business is thriving. He knows he shouldn’t talk about something like the business with Cissa. A long time ago, this might have been the point where he bit his lip and started a confessional. He might have talked about school. About ‘life’. About his friends. But he’s not in school any more. His life is the business. And friends... he can’t remember how long it was since he talked to one.

Maybe, Regulus thinks, suddenly wry- he might have told her about how the Plan was going- a rather too secretive nickname between them for how he was going to go to Uni and cut off his ties with the family- he’d even had a whole scheme for how he was going to devolve all the power until he could just up and leave (it was fun to pretend, though at the time he hadn’t thought of it as pretending). Now of course... things are different.

“Not much has been happening, but I’m doing well,” he says, to fill in the gap of silence, and then adds, “How are you?”

And a moment later, because there’s still a nagging feeling inside him, he asks, hesitating, covering up the hesitation with idle curiousity- “Have you settled on a marriage date?”

[purebloodperfection]

Narcissa pretended as if the slight tremor in her hand was not because of her cousin - a man whom she had once confided in. “Regulus.” She greets in an equally soft tone. For what seemed like a very long time, she just sat there, staring at him. When had he grown so big, his voice so deep? 

As had become habit when she was nervous, Narcissa twisted her engagement ring between her fingers. “You look good,” she finally managed slowly, “it is good to see you again.” While she knew Regulus had stayed away to preserve her reputation and not worry her career, Narcissa couldn’t help but feel that he had abandoned her as well. After all, that was all she knew, wasn’t it? 

[regulusregno-blog]

He doesn’t speak until she does- perhaps equally just studying Narcissa, relearning her features, marveling at the bright of her eyes that had never been captured quite right by photographs on a shelf and sketches he had drawn in the night.

She looks beautiful, he thinks, and it’s the only thought that sticks. Like she’s... grown up, and maybe so has he, and suddenly he does not know if they can even be cousins any more, if they even know each other like this. He reminds himself a moment after that they have not been cousins for years already- that it might as well be that they are strangers.

Funny that- they had all left. Sirius. Narcissa. Andromeda. Even Bellatrix. Regulus was the only one left.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice is steadier than what he feels, steadier than how it maybe should be. It’s good to see you again. He knows she doesn’t mean it, he looks at Narcissa and he can’t blame her. He should leave now, maybe, invent some excuse and say ‘I have somewhere to be, maybe we’ll see each other again’ and it would be a lie, and both of them would know it.

At the slight motion, his gaze flickers to the ring on her hand- he had not seen it, not until she inadvertently drew attention to the thing, and surprise briefly sparks in his mind- a quiet, helpless sort of surprise that isn’t really surprise at all. A ring. An engagement ring. So many years, and so many things have changed. It’s not unexpected, he tells himself, and swallows back the grittiness on his tongue, and it’s rough on the sandpaper that feels like his throat.

“You’re... engaged.” It’s almost a question, almost a statement. Almost just something to fill in the silence, the blank drawn in his mind. A smile flickers onto his lips, and Regulus isn’t sure if its real or not as he adds, “Congratulations.”

[purebloodperfection]

April 10, 2016 Coffee Shop {regulusregno}

Narcissa scowled down at the paper, scratching the note she had just written. “Focus, Black.” she muttered to herself before writing something else. She looked up, wanting to take a sip of coffee but the figure heading her way made her froze. Regulus. She hadn’t seen her cousin in years and, if she had to be completely honest, feared him now more than ever.

[regulusregno-blog]

It has been a long time since he’s seen Narcissa. He can’t remember how long- just... long enough it has and had felt like forever, and now that he’s seeing her again (it’s unmistakable, the golden hair and the pale skin and he can feel it- it’s her)- and he doesn’t know what to feel.

But part of that is a lie, he knows the exact date he had left her life for good, the evening they had parted with a fond ‘I’ll see you’ and he had not seen her again.

He still kept up to date on her affairs, of course he did- just... not through the usual channels of social interaction and talk. He checked up on her, enough to be aware she was doing alright, and didn’t let himself go any further looking and prying into a life that he was no longer a part of. And now... mabe this is fate. Or just coincidence. He’s torn between going up to her, sitting in the chair opposite and making whatever conversation he can- or simply leaving, coffee in hand, nothing left but to think back on it later at night and wish he had at least tried.

When he does approach her, he approaches her out of- nothing more than curiousity (also a lie: quiet longing, less than quiet)- and just a glance, he thinks, persuades himself. Just a moment, she won’t even notice him, he’ll sit at the back, and nobody will ever be the wiser. And that... goes out of the window when she looks up from her papers and her gaze fixes on him.

A moment of hesitation, and then he’s in front of her, pretends to himself that the gaze she looks at him with is not one of apprehension or fear, that nothing is wrong.

May I sit here? He almost asks, and does not, almost laughs at himself for the incredulity of it all- as if he is a stranger and he does not know her, and there are no other seats free. The former might be true, he considers. (besides, if he asked, would she even say yes?)

“Narcissa,” he says, softly, and his eyes don’t leave hers when he sits, every movement slow, as if some of this is surreal, as if he’s being careful, gauging her reaction to him.

[prestigiousrosier-blog]

April 28th, 2016 The Tyche Club 3.24pm

Evan had been going over some of the more recent Rosier estate purchases, more out of boredom than necessity, the glass of whiskey in front of him keeping him more than comfortable in the quiet atmosphere of the exclusive club. Exclusive, however, did no longer mean private and so the entry of someone drew his attention. The smile was an easy reflex as he called out to greet them. “You know, I had a feeling this place was losing its reputation but if they’re letting people like you in, I might have to look into changing clubs sooner.”

[regulusregno-blog]

At the sudden (and familiar sounding) words that must be directed towards him, Regulus’ eyes almost flicker down to look at his clothes, wondering if it’s something to do with his attire (is it rumpled? is a button broken?)- and it’s sheer willpower that makes him turn his gaze to the man who had spoken out instead. Besides, he knows there’s nothing wrong with his outfit. It takes him a moment to place the man, but when he does a smirk slides onto his lips almost on reflex, “Rosier, it’s been awhile. I see your terrible sense of humour hasn’t changed.”

[regulusregno-blog]

`devoted-carrow:

[OPEN] {9th of April} {late night/early morning} {outside}

Stumbling out of a club or an alley wasn’t a big deal. Not for him. However stumbling out of an alley wiping away barely visible traces of blood wasn’t that common an occurence, even for him. At least not buzzed as he was, riding a high others did when eating too much sugar. Although his high was of a more sophisticated nature. His cold eyes and colder smile were a testimony as to how much he cared for others to see him like this and his mind sparked, eliciting small fires behind shut doors as he wanted, needed, craved…

It’s a jarring moment between seeing someone he thinks he might recognize- (a moment of sparking adrenaline, there’s something bitter clinging in the air and his fingers are twitching towards the inside of his sleeve, breath stilling in his throat)- and then suddenly he’s being crowded into and kissed by the stranger stumbling out of the alley.

He stiffens for all of a moment, torn between a strange familiarity and the sheer danger screaming at him- but it’s the blonde hair and the eyes that give it away, the feeling of lips against his that he remembers- and when the connection clicks, the tension bleeds away from his shoulders almost without him meaning to.

But that was fine- wasn’t this what he’d come out here for in the first place?

A moment later, indecision going out of the window, and he’s kissing back- tentative at first, before he forces the apprehension away and grows bolder, hands reaching up to grasp at the hem of Amycus’ jacket, drawing him in closer. He doesn’t know how or why Amycus is here now- doesn’t even want to, he can smell the blood in the air and it’s a metallic smell, drying musky and bitter beneath the sickly-sweet- and yet it only makes the want that’s been buried in him all day flicker and flare up, insidious in the taste it leaves in Regulus’ mouth, in the bitter and honey-sweet he can taste on Amycus’ tongue. It’s unavoidable maybe- all of this- it’s why he’s even out at this time of night, searching for a shady bar or the corner of some alleyway.

He presses his body up against the other man, searching for every inch of skin he can touch, every molecule of heat he can reach- he’s so aware of the heat suddenly, so aware of the cold around them.

A moment later- or maybe a minute- and it’s the dizziness that makes him pull away, the dizziness that makes him realize he hasn’t been breathing at all except for the air in Amycus’ mouth, and he takes a gulp of the chill air, almost flinches when it goes down his lungs freezing. “I- wall,” he mutters, an invitation or an order- potentially both- and he’s still light-headed, not quite remembering what else he should say, or how he should phrase the sentence. Already, there’s a shiver of cold on his spine, and he wills it away as he stares at the other man.

[jamespotter-x-blog]

midnight / convenient store [open]

“You want a donut? I know…I know. Totally stereotypical of me. But I WANT one, need to boost my sugar intake around this time and get a coffee. What are you doing up this late? Up to no good?” he was teasing, though with James he always spoke in a way that clearly meant he wasn’t entirely playing around. As an officer who worked mostly nights he found himself always needing to be on alert. Even when making coffee in a gas stop– but that didn’t stop James’ personality to seep through and make everyone around him some how lured to his side. He was always seen buying the homeless treats, and making them sandwiches. The nice guy vibe unavoidable. 

“Come on– my treat. Speak up so people can hear ya! What do you want?”

[regulusregno-blog]

Regulus stares at the man, utterly nonplussed for a moment, before accepting reality and realizing this was the kind of person you met at midnight in a convenience store.

He’s not entirely awake- not after having been up for the past thirty hours. In fact, he’s slept for two hours in the past three days. It’s maybe an easy decision- and one made with a little relief, that he doesn’t need to keep up the alertness here. On the other hand, at the first instant of that thought most of his guard just goes away. The sheer tiredness creeping in can only really combated by unconscious overcompensation.

Regulus stares at the donut display, having already forgotten to question the man’s intentions by buying him a donut. As a matter of fact, the donut display feels too bright to look at. He firmly keeps his gaze fixed on it and away from the sherbet lemons in the sweets section.

“Sugar donut,” he mumbles eventually, a little indecisive. But also very certain. The green one with sparkles doesn’t seem natural. Too neon.

But. It was sparkly.

And there is- he notices quite suddenly- a purple one. Which is even less natural. But it has  sprinkles too.

He pauses, torn.

[regulusregno-blog]

Medium

if you had one chance to speak with the dead, who would you speak with? what would you talk about?

@prodigious--skill

“I’d say I loved her. That she was a sister to me, that... she was always there for me, that I’m grateful, that I’ve always been grateful.”

[regulusregno-blog]

Veteran

have you ever harmed somebody on accident? did you regret it?

"I don’t know. I regret many things I’ve done. But not much of it was accidental.”

[regulusregno-blog]

Consigliere and escort

consigliere: have you ever uncovered a dark secret of somebody you know?

“No. It’s their choice to keep anything secret, I wouldn’t pry into it.”

escort: is there anyone that you love unconditionally?

“I...”

Dark hair, dark eyes, a smile that was given unreservedly. Warmth. So much of it. But he’d rejected him, hadn’t he? Shunned him, cut him away from his life- hollowed out the space that was left behind and ignored the emptiness. As if he had never existed. As if he’d never had a place in Regulus’ heart.

“No.”