#abraxasmlfoy

[ficra-blog1]

blue

send me a color and i’ll write a drabble with our muses with that color as the theme

Abraxas was an boy made of blue ice. Brilliant, hard, and unbreakable—he would either stay wholly intact or pieces of him would shear off, but never would he shatter. He was wise beyond his years, built up on so much knowledge and nuance all compressed into one being. He was a late afternoon sky after rain, subtle and untouchable. He was navy velvet, vieux riche, luxe and refined and classic. Abraxas was a new bruise, black-and-blue, inescapably attached to the memory of something unpleasant, no matter how hard you try to forget or how much you want to separate the cause from the effect. He was a sapphire, he was the dark blue ring around the iris of a fair-eyed maiden, the endless blue of the ocean deep. But, when Fiora saw Abraxas for the first time—she a first year, he a third—he was framed not by a weeping sky nor was he wearing anything more than his Hogwarts robes and Slytherin colors, and she did not think of him as cold, but rather she smiled up at him—shyly, unknowingly, delicate as the four soft petals of a periwinkle hydrangea and cheeks rounded like grape hyacinths—and met his eyes with wonder. She’d seen blue eyes before, but never a pair that struck her as so piercing. He had eyes filled with such purpose, as though he knew without a doubt the direction he was going, and his eyes were ever looking towards a goal unseen to her. It was a brief moment swamped in her mind alongside seconds just as brilliant to her, but from time to time, when she sees him in the halls, she wonders if it’s just a trick of the light or if his eyes are not longer the same shade of surety.

[kharmalibhatia-blog]

❁ 47

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”

Here!

[druella-rosier-blog]

it's just six words

Blood is binding two familiar strangers.

send it’s just six words for a six word story between your muse and mine.

[veelablck-blog]

white

                                                          ABRAXAS & WALBURGA                                                                   ( little white lies )

          Music filled the room as bodies spun in elegant circles, causing a scene for the ages. Anyone who mattered was in the room with laughter spewing from their lips at jokes that some outside of their superior status would frown upon. They were glorious and infinite in their own right. The music came and went as the band changed pace to match the popular genre of the time. 

          Walburga watched on from her usual corner of the room with the shadows from the staircase hiding her from those she deemed unworthy of her attention. It would have been a night of forgettable memories if she had simply stayed put. Unlike her siblings, she basks in the opportunity for quick change, sending her across the room to fetch some refreshment when a song she absolutely adored began to play.

          She was just about to reach for a cup when a single hand captured her own with a tug towards the area where others were already dancing. Her lips remained lifted as anyone in the room was worthy of a single dance with her, but her throat hitched when she looked up to see the gaze of Abraxas Malfoy taking her in. His hands seemed to melt into her flesh as if they belonged there, and she turned her head slightly to feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, allowing him to smell the fresh rose her perfume gave off.

          “ You look terrible in that suit, Abraxas, “ Walburga purred with a weight in his name as it rolled from her lips that held a deep red stain to them. “ You would do well to take it off immediately. “ Oh, her little white lies filling the air between them as her hand lifted to adjust his collar with her nails running across his skin in a tease. His control of their every move being enough for her to focus on him more than her own steps. She would have said more, but it was his gave that silence her as if he saw right through her — secrets and all.  

[ficra-blog1]

🔸 (lmao)

name: 🐍  Malfoy ⁉️ringtone: Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven

[marvolous]

☼

send more memes [ x ]

childhood headcanon

Tom was always preoccupied with the idea of death, and any given caretaker would recall with some discomfort the questions he posed throughout those early years. Dead things, deceased people, funeral rites, and decay… All fascinated him, morbid young thing that he was. The most striking memory of death—after the revelation that his mother was dead, of course—was watching a fellow orphan catch an illness and wither away. Hardly eight years old, young Tom Riddle being shooed away from their bedside, told to go wash the blood from his hands, to not come near lest he fall ill as well. He recalls the bright crimson of the blood–tossed up a great shaking cough.

❛ And lungs? ❜ he asked sometime after the mourning had ceased at the orphanage. He drew often, as children tend to do, with wobbling lines and a preference for colors. This particular sketch required some details he refused to merely imagine. 

A follow up, more specific: ❛ —what do they look like when they bleed? ❜

[druella-rosier-blog]

ϡ

Druella’s mental state is quite a fragile one, on the surface, but it’s surprisingly resilient the deeper you go. She is delicate, she is gentle and kind and spectacular, but she is also willfully blind. Dru is aided in that regard, shielded from most of the horrors of the world, but even if she sees them for a moment, she cannot bear to look and would much rather bury her head in the sand. Thus, her negative emotions -- anxiety, worry, sadness, irritation -- are tossed aside in favor of remaining perfect, remaining pure. She knows more of her reputation than even she would care to remind herself of.