#acidgreenqueen

[kingsrustedcrown-blog]

Cicatricem : Scars - tell us about his quidditch scars :D

The night had been one of celebration, regardless of whether Caradoc knew or not. Robert had given him no choices as to whether they spent the night together, barging into Caradoc’s home the moment he’d confirmed Benjy was gone for the night at work. While his bed wasn’t near as comfortable as Robert’s, he would deal for the night. Being with Caradoc was far more important right now than comfort. 

The second the door had snapped closed behind him, Robert more or less attacked Caradoc. If ever there were a reversal of a Dementor kiss, Robert was positive he’d given it to Caradoc. Pouring his soul into the man his heart ached for more with each passing day. 

Today was the best of them all. 

Clothes were strewn from the front door to Caradoc’s, uncared for in the moment as hands reached wherever they could, frantic and ecstatic. More than an hour later, Robert finally lay, entirely spent, but a smile still clear on his face. Skin pricking with excitement each time Caradoc’s finger tips grazed against it. The moments wherein he wasn’t too lazy to open his eyes, the contrast of their skin tones made him itch for Caradoc to be fully against him once more. 

Another hour passed, the two having drifted into an easy nap, before Robert felt himself being stroked into consciousness again -- though not where he desired those taunting fingers to be most. 

Instead, after a few minutes Robert began to realize what Caradoc was doing. 

Up and around the scar along his hip bone, where the Magpies beater had smashed his hip a year ago. The bone had been a pain to mend, so they didn’t attempt to mend away the scar. He’d gotten a few bottles of good whiskey out of that one. 

Up to his stomach and across the smatterings of tiny cuts and scrapes he’d gotten as a kid, playing around outside and climbing up trees. There were even more of those along his legs, along with other scars from broken legs during Quidditch matches. Robert chuckled as Caradoc brushed along another scar, earning him a curious look, but Rob shook his head. 

How many new scars would he earn from being on a team now? Keepers always ended up being the first big target, and rightfully so. Hopefully, once he was a pro they wouldn’t leave such visible scars behind. Like the one Caradoc was now touching along his upper lip. “Not a fan of my Quidditch war scars?” Robert teased, though there was a pit in his stomach as he worried he wouldn’t. He needed Caradoc’s approval, because fuck, if he was going to add to the collection, he wanted him to find it attractive. 

The cocky expression to cross Caradoc’s face made Robert want to sigh with frustration, but the lips that pressed to his kept the reaction at bay. Those wretched, taunting fingers ran pointedly down each area of his arms he knew there to be scars on, until they decided to move down to his biggest one, upon his hip bone, and the actions that followed... well, Robert wasn’t so nervous about his scars present or future, anymore. 

[regaldaffodil-blog]

Witch Weekly: Dawn of a Dynasty

Gowns! Guests! Glamour! For exclusive personal photos from Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’s fairytale wedding, interviews and all the details, pick up the new issue of Witch Weekly, featuring an editorial by your favorite writer Rita Skeeter, on newsstands today. (x)

@acidgreenqueen

[fabianprewettdoesthings]

Winnie’s had been packed that morning, but finally, between the early risers and the hangover quenchers, things settled down. Fabian finally placed his order (the third special, with extra bacon, under cooked) and took a second sip from his third cup of coffee---

BOOM!

The mug quaked in Fabian’s hand, sloshing coffee onto his trousers, nearly unnoticed. He grabbed his napkin and dabbed vacantly at his lap as he turned to look out the diner’s front window.

“---the hell was that?”

[benjysbandages-blog]

Adversi : Mischief - Benji/Rita ;)

Place one of these words and a character/pairing/series in my inbox and I’ll write a drabble about it.

“Your healer, Stroup was it? You see, she attempted to help, but honestly, I don’t think she took my case too seriously, and as you can see--” Benjy opened his mouth to stop the woman as she pulled open her unbuttoned blouse to reveal a very bare chest to him. 

Clearing his throat, he took a cursory glance, ignoring the way she pointedly held herself, and batted her lashes at him. It was very akin to what Dawn would do to him, only... excessively so. “I’m sure Healer Strout did as was proper before. It would likely be better for her to-- Ms. Skeeter, you ought to stay seated,” Benjy added quickly, taking a step back as Rita stood, 

“I’m sure that’s customary, but you see, it hurts to sit. This... rash, if it is that, it’s so warm, here,” Rita grasped Benjy’s hand and brought it to her chest with lightening speed. “Oh your hand feels so lovely, this is the closest thing to relief I’ve had in days!” 

Benjy didn’t know what this woman was on about, but he carefully pried his hand away, not wanting to hurt her. “Please take a seat, I’ll get you something for the pain as you cover yourself again. I would suggest halting using or eating anything you began using right before the rash began. Use that and this ointment--” 

“Oh I’ve already had ointment! It simply doesn’t help, but I must say your hand rather did, you’ve got quite the gentle grip, I’m sure Dawn Withey quite enjoys that every night, does she?” 

“What Dawn Withey enjoys at night has nothing to do with this. Try this potion. If it clears the rash up by tomorrow, you can slowly begin using one thing at a time again. Once the rash shows again, you’ll know which thing is causing it.” 

Benjy didn’t know what this woman was up to, but either way he wanted her out of his exam room and to not see her again any time soon. 

“Would you look at that, your hand, right where it was, the rash is lighter! Could you, for the sake of my comfort, touch the rest of it? It’s almost as if you’ve got healing hands! Imagine that.” Rita was biting her lip in a way that might be fetching to someone else, but it simply made Benjy’s skin crawl. 

“Er-- sorry, but I’m sure the potion will work much faster, and I’ve got other patients to see. If this continues, come in and see a healer who specializes in potion mis-use. I’m afraid my specialty isn’t in skin care.” 

Rita pouted, but with a sigh, closed her robes. “I suppose it would be rather selfish of me to take up more of your precious time. Until next time then, medi-wizard.” She’d gotten up, but rather than heading towards the door, she moved to him, patting his chest, and allowing half of hers to be revealed again, to which Benjy averted his gaze, waiting until she’d left to let out a breath of relief, slumping against the counter. 

“Bloody womans gonna give me a migraine.” 

[hestiajones-wik]

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” Hestia shuddered as she turned her head away from the headline on the abandoned copy of today’s Prophet that had been left on the table before she’d arrived. “An entire family, simply--- Oh, I can’t imagine what their loved ones must be going through.”

[peteswormtail-blog]

(It's this I haven't asked, I'm going nuts) Deathbed of Malfoy!

Drabble List!

Death: I’ll write a drabble of my character with yours on their deathbed.

A whisper of a gasp slipped through Peter’s lips as Lucius Malfoy’s body fell limp in the middle of the Malfoy Mansion foyer. As the Dark Lord slipped his wand into its hidden location of his cloak, he grimaced down at the dying man with disdain. 

“Such a pity. You were never able to give your son the brother you perhaps hoped he’d have. Now he won’t even have a father... truly a pity...” 

Peter couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe this was happening. Near him he could hear the choked sobs of Narcissa, and it took all of his strength not to join her in crying. He couldn’t cry. If he cried, he would die. 

Why did Lucius have to die? 

Peter didn’t like the man, by any means. But as far as Death Eaters went, he was easily one of the most bearable to be around. Frightening, yes, but not cruel for the sake of being cruel. Peter had an odd sort of respect for that. Not that said respect ever would have been returned, but Lucius didn’t go out of his way to make Peter hate himself further either, which was something, at the very least. 

He watched in stunned silence as muscle by muscle, Lucius lost power over his body. Over his very soul. 

Peter assumed he’d never see anything more horrific than the torture the Death Eaters unleashed on muggleborns, but today he’d been proven wrong. He didn’t know what Lucius Malfoy did to earn his sentence, but he’d been forced to watch as a reminder. 

A reminder that failure was not an option. 

“Get rid of these wasteful scraps, would you, Wormtail?” 

A shudder tingled down his spine at the casual words, knowing they were anything but. Numbly, he nodded, shooting Narcissa an apologetic look as she began to plead with him to let her. 

“Jugson, deal with Narcissa. I must be off to do what those who are incapable of have failed at.” 

The moment he disappeared, Narcissa’s thinly veiled grief broke free. Sobbing more openly, she rushed forwards towards Lucius, wand in hand, attempting to heal him, to fix him. And more importantly, to shield him from the two males who threatened to erase him from the planet as far as anyone else knew. 

“Peter, Peter no. Let me. Please, he must be buried properly-- Tristan if you take one more step, I swear, I will not hesitate in hexing you!” 

Peter couldn’t remember ever hearing Narcissa so off balance, so improper, and even more so - he’d never heard her plead in such a way. No matter how much he wanted her to have her way, to give her something to help with the grief, he knew there was no point. Tristan would soon erase all memories she’d had of this day, which left Peter to wonder - why make her watch in the first place? 

Their Dark Lord was sick. Vile. A shared glance between the two males was enough to confirm both felt the same way, but neither had any option but to do as they were told. Both of them directed their wands at Narcissa, Peter to disarm her, Tristan to remove her memories and put her into a deep sleep. 

“I’ll take care of her, you deal with this.” 

Peter swallowed down the bile threatening to rise in his throat as he nodded, bending down beside Lucius, wishing he could do something to fix this. But the reality was, Lucius couldn’t be brought back from the dead. 

“How am I supposed to survive?” Peter whispered pleadingly to him, a tear of his own falling down his cheek. A weak show of emotion he shouldn’t have. Especially not for a Death Eater. 

But if a man like Lucius Malfoy could be killed by the Dark Lord without a second thought, what stopped him from killing Peter? Or having someone else kill Peter? Were they all just faceless pawns to him? Soldiers for a war based on killing as many people as possible?  Peter no longer understood what he wanted out of this. If it were a plead for blood purity, why kill one of the purest, most respected men in the wizarding world? 

None of it made sense anymore. 

[aliceprewett-blog1]

Shop with Rita!

Drabble List!

Shop: I’ll write a drabble of my character taking yours shopping.

“Now really, Alex, this is quite possibly the dullest colour I’ve seen since my Hogwarts years,” Rita grimaced, holding the offending blouse an arms length away. Alice smiled, though offended, the pose was enough to make anyone laugh. 

“Alice,” she gently corrected, “The colour brings your eyes out.” 

Rita shot her a skeptical look, moving to put the shirt back on the rack. “Men hardly care for a womans eyes, young Ali. Even you must know that, what with your… mentor around all the time. Longbottom isn’t it?” she hedged, her innocent act not quite fooling Alice. “You two have been stirring up quite the rumours as of late.” 

Taking the shirt before Rita could completely discard it, Alice tilted her head to the side. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. Personally, any man I would date, would notice my eyes as well as anything else, I would hope.” After placing the shirt where it belonged, Alice began to roam again. “This isn’t about me, however. The man you mentioned earlier, whose eye you’re attempting to catch. I know him. Not terribly well, of course. But enough to know that subtle clothing with a bright personality is far more likely to catch his eye.” 

“But dear, what better to set of a bright personality than – oh now this is a winner if I’ve ever spotted one!” Rita plucked up a dress in the most painful shade of fuchsia she’d ever laid eyes upon. 

“Not quite what I had in mind…” Alice admitted, trying to keep polite, but quickly finding her rope coming to its end. 

Rita hummed thoughtfully before nodding. “Quite right. This is clearly meant for you dear. Come now, cheer up! Frank Longbottom would surely adore this colour on you. How could any man resist? You must try it on. This moment!” How she managed to snap her fingers with her talon-like nails, Alice couldn’t be sure, but before she could fully object, she found herself shoved into a dressing room with said dress. 

Staring at the cloth in her hands, Alice frowned. Frank would most certainly not enjoy this colour on her, nor would she enjoy it on herself. While yes, bright colours were wonderful to look at, it was quite another thing to wear said colours. “I really don’t think this is a good idea– I only came in for work clothes, Rita.” 

“Nonsense, any time is a good time for date clothes, and surely you’ll need something akin to that for the day Longbottom asks you out. Dear me, what if he saw you in this and positively decided he must ask you out? You would have me to thank for your future together!” The excitement in Rita’s voice set Alice on edge. Of course, she’d been seeing Frank for a year now, but if the reporter hadn’t managed to confirm that so far, Alice was in no rush to do it for her. The longer they went out of the limelight, the better. 

“Really, Rita. Today is meant to be about you,” Alice insisted. “Perhaps something in a wine shade would be better? Seductive and subtle.” 

“My my, Ali, here I assumed you’d be too– ahem proper– to think of what may be considered seductive.” The practically taunting tone made Alice roll her eyes as she relented into changing into the dress, figuring she wouldn’t get out of this until she did so. 

“I may dress modestly, but that doesn’t mean I am entirely oblivious to reasons to dress otherwise,” Alice replied, opening the door to her dressing room, having not even glanced in the mirror before doing so. She already felt gaudy just seeing the colour against her skin. Why burn the memory in her mind permanently by seeing the full picture? 

A pleased gasp escaped  Rita as she turned around, positively grinning from ear to ear as she looked Alice over head to toe multiple times. “Now this, is what I would call a date dress. You look positively delectable.” 

“Er,” Alice found herself flushing, hands moving to flatten out the skirt of the dress. “I don’t know about that. Really, this dress, it seems more of your style.”

“No no dear,” Rita tsked, grasping both of Alice’s shoulders, still looking her over as if she would actually attempt to take a bite of her. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll try on one of those whiney colours you insist upon, but you simply must purchase this one as well! My, it would make a perfect photo in Witch Weekly style section! You’d be the belle of any ball you’d go to!” 

“Oh I’m really not the type to--” 

Already, Rita was moving Alice to position her in front of a mirror, standing behind her, smiling over her shoulder into the reflection as Alice’s eyes went wide. “Look at you! It fits better than a glove. Curves for days, my dear. Never would I have known otherwise!” Sighing in Alice’s ear, Rita moved Alice slightly to the side so the girl could get a better look at herself in the mirror. “You would have every eye on you no matter where you’d go.” 

Alice couldn’t deny as much, though her mind screamed that it would be for all the wrong reasons. Worst of all, she couldn’t keep her eyes on her face in the reflection for any amount of time. The colour simply didn’t fit. It didn’t feel like her. 

That’s when she realized that attempting to help Rita into something more neutral and modest was a waste. As much as Alice could never wear this, Rita could never wear something of Alice’s tastes. “I think it would look far better on you,” Alice smiled at Rita through the mirror. “You’re right, dull colours are hardly for you. You deserve to feel as vibrant as your personality is.” 

[rxlestrange]

lucius/rodolphus - brotp x''D

send me a pairing and I’ll tell you who:

falls asleep on the couch: Neither, if they fall asleep anywhere it would be over a table or a desk. In their younger days over homework, in which case the other would charm their hair a different color. Now, over work, in which case the other will knock them awake and tell them to go home.

makes friends with the neighbors: Both of them. Ultimately just to make sure they appear to be the sweet young men who would never be involved with anything nefarious. Image is important ya know?

is the adventurous eater: Rodolphus. Mostly because of his stupid childhood competitions with Rab. 

hogs the covers at night: Rodolphus. There may or may not have been a few sleep overs as children when he ‘accidentally’ kicked Lucius off the bed for trying to steal the covers back.

forgets to do the dishes: This privileged kids have never washed a dish in their life what are you on about?

tries to surprise their partner more often: Lucius, because he’s not a party pooper that hates surprises. 

leaves dirty laundry on the floor: If there’s laundry on the floor a house elf is gonna have a bad day. But overall, they’re both pretty good about putting it in the laundry bin. 

stays up til 2 AM reading: Rodolphus. At least once Lucius and Narcissa tie the knot, since Lucius is actually a good husband who doesn’t make his wife sleep alone.

sings in the shower: Lucius. Who is never able to live it down.

takes the selfies: Let’s be real they would have a selfie stick, and would take turns.

plans date night: Lucius, because he doesn’t trust Rodolphus not to take him to any *ahem* gentlemen’s clubs.