#darkmarkedmen

[qceensofkings-a]

@darkmarkedmen liked for a starter from Isabelle

The brunette had been curled up with one of the hellhounds in bed when she felt the wards around the manor falter. Isabelle propped herself up on her elbow, glancing around her room. It was the dead of night, probably three in the morning or so. Diamanti poked her head out of the covers, her gold eyes glinting in the moonlight that streamed in from the windows. 

Isabelle muttered the incantation that activated her tattoo so that her steps were silenced and her personal wards were strengthened. “Stay.” She whispered to the hellhound who whined softly, shifting impatiently on the bed as her mistress climbed out of bed. Rosco, the other hellhound, remained curled on the bed, his hair standing on end as he stared at the door.

Her bare feet lightly skimmed the cool hardwood floor as she grabbed her wand and blades. She slowly opened her door, shutting it behind her smoothly. It was fair to assume that she had snuck around this house before.

Working her way cautiously down the hall, she walked silently down toward where she had felt the breach. Perhaps she was just paranoid, but she had never had her wards broken. Whatever or whoever had done it probably wasn’t a friend and she couldn’t leave her home unprotected for very long as there was a rather lengthy list of people who’d love to have a shot at her. 

Brown hues, already accustomed to the dark, scanned ahead and occasionally behind her. Once downstairs, she stopped in front of the front door which she found to be wide open. She glanced around before closing it slowly and carefully as to not make a sound. 

There was little time to debate recasting the wards around the house. If she did, there was a strong chance that she had just locked someone in with her rather than out. But perhaps that would be better than having more uninvited guests show up. A faint lavender light passed her hand and enveloped the manor as well as the land around it before it dissipated, looking as if nothing had happened.

Lips pursed as she looked around, feeling a chill shoot down her spine as she continued her patrol. Finally, she walked into the dining room to find a cloaked figure lingering at the head of the table. “It’s quite rude to show up in someone’s residence unannounced.” Isabelle mused, a delicate move of her hand so that the room was lit with blue flames that came to life in the hearth of the fireplace and spread to the torches on the wall.

[tnott]

meta topic: what makes theodora angry, and why

@darkmarkedmen​ || meta meme || accepting

A lot of things make Theo angry, but she tries not to show it; she’s more the type to swallow her anger and be quietly resentful without ever blowing up.

She’s angry at the way Slytherins are treated by the other Houses and by many of the professors. She’s angry at Dumbledore’s blatant favoritism towards Gryffindor. She’s angry at the way he award the House Cup to Gryffindor in her first year at Hogwarts; she thinks it was unnecessarily cruel towards her House. She’s angry that no matter how hard she works in her classes, she’ll always be stuck in second place behind Hermione.

She’s angry that her father was arrested and taken away from her. She’s angry that she was thrust into a war that she never wanted while she was still a child. She’s angry that she and the other Death Eaters’ children were ignored by the adults in their lives instead of offered help. She’s angry that her father valued Voldemort’s cause more than he valued keeping their family intact. She’s angry that her father put her in a position where she had to choose between keeping terrible secrets or betraying her only family.

She’s angry at her father for cutting off her mother’s family after her mother died. She’s angry at her mother’s family for not trying harder to reconcile with him or to establish contact with her. She’s angry at her aunt and uncle for expecting her to be someone she’s not, and for being disappointed by the person she is. She’s angry at her aunt for burning her music, and she’s angry at her uncle for hitting her.

She’s angry at Voldemort for tearing her world apart and destroying her family. She’s angry at the Carrows for hurting her and hurting her classmates. She’s angry at the people who judge her for not fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts – she would have had to fight either her friends or her family, and that’s a choice she refused to make. She’s angry at people who try to hold her responsible for her father’s crimes.

She’s angry at people who don’t take her seriously. She’s angry at Wizarding academics who refuse to consider new ideas. She’s angry at herself for having so much trouble connecting to people. She’s angry at the universe for taking her mother away. She’s angry that she has depression, and the worst part about that is that there’s no one for her to be angry at.

If someone ever got her to unbottle all her anger, it could probably be used as an alternative fuel source.

[threadpull]

@darkmarkedmen  //  peter  //  liked for a starter! (accepting)

It’s during that time of the month, the full moon rearing its head on Remus, and he’s found in his usual spot by the fireplace.  He looks more disheveled during these periods, tired, and generally has a sweater or blanket with him regardless of the temperature.  The internal temperature of the wolf is supposed to be higher, but it’s harder to maintain while he’s in human form.  So here he is, hot cup of tea in hand, within the Gryffindor commons.

Though it may look like he’s staring at his tea pensively, he’s been inspecting his hands.  Bite marks.  Still new, from the night before.  It always makes him anxious, and he tends to blame them on the roaming pets (cats just don’t seem to like me, he always says, but I still try to pet them like a fool, I do).

When Peter sits, it takes a moment before Remus realizes who has joined him, looking quite dazed.  He offers a somber, sleepy smile.  Then, after glancing around the commons to be sure that no one is around to hear, it slips away.  He murmurs:  “Do you think it’s obvious?”

His hand is held up now.  He really can’t help it, the worry.  How couldn’t he?  His parents had ingrained such a pervasive fear in him, self-loathing, since his childhood.  They may not have meant to, only protecting him, but they would be foolish to think it didn’t affect him.  After all, their paranoia was so severe that they wouldn’t let him speak to anyone else.  He didn’t have a childhood, not like the others.

So now he’s here.  Remus often thinks that they all really comprehend the weight of it.  He’s thankful that Peter, James, and Sirius have accepted him, of course, but his nervousness tends to be glossed over.  Not understood.

“It’s just — people have been asking more questions lately...”

[lucklessladies-blog]

The winter @darkmarkedmen

She hated these kinds of get-togethers. She hated these pretentious people with their lies, flattery and fake smiles. They remind her of peacocks. And she had never been fond of animals...

Walburga Black finished her drink and floated the empty glass to a tray on a small table covered with black lace. She stood up with a deep sigh. She had already talked with all the potential business partners and now she was just killing time; she knew she had to stay a certain amount of time to avoid the whispers and rumours. 

She walked next to the buffet and tried to figure out, which wine she should try next when a man with some familiar features floated in her sight. He was a Malfoy for sure, everyone would recognise that hair made of gold and eyes full of ice but Walburga couldn’t get the name of him to her head. 

But she was sure of a one thing: she hadn’t talked with him this evening. And Malfoy was rich and almost ancient family so who knew what kind of treasures they would hide in their mattresses? 

“Could you maybe help me? I can’t decide between the Superior Red and Arrogant Frog...” she smiled at him. Not with her usual cold smile but with her ‘let’s talk about your antiques’ grin.

[worth12malfoys]

Does your character or their family own a House Elf?

Wizarding World Questions ( accepting // @darkmarkedmen )

Neville’s gran never had one, but some of his extended family have one. House elves are just very normal to him, and he doesn’t see much wrong with having one, provided you’re not mistreating them. They’re doing work for you, and you’re giving them food, shelter, etc. in return. It seems like a fair arrangement to him.

[lucklessladies-blog]

@darkmarkedmen

The night had started like any other night: They were fabulous. They were beautiful. They were the Malfoys. The whole ballroom stopped and gasped when they walked in. The green in their clothes was the deepest green one had ever seen and the silver was glimmering in the light of thousand candles.

Narcissa had pictured the whole evening: first a glass of cold white wine from a crystal cup, then Lucius would bow and ask her to dance. She would of course blush a little bit before taking his hand to hers. Then they would get lost in the music and in each others eyes, maybe share a little, tasteful kiss.

The part where they have a glass of wine was a... Mild success. One became two, two became five and so on. Narcissa sat there, looked at her husband finishing a drink after another. She tried to ask him, if he wanted to dance but his cold glare silenced her. 

“I’m going to powder my nose” she sighed and left Lucius with his collection of empty glasses while heading to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her before turning the tap and letting the water run through her fingers. 

‘He is turning into his father.’

She sighed and rubbed her neck with little bit of freezing water. She had to calm down, she didn’t want to make a scene. Her reflection stared at her, judging the way she had given up her plans for the evening. It looked tired. That couldn’t be her, right? Sad and tired image.

Narcissa almost rushed out, this was the first time she had actually hated the way she looked. She grabbed a glass from the closest tray and drank it half empty before returning to her husband. And then he said it. 

“I think you have had enough”

She had had enough? She stared at Lucius who almost couldn’t hold his eyes open not to even mention the fact that she was sure the man couldn’t stand without help. 

Smack. The sound echoed in the room, silencing every single witch and wizard in the party. 

Narcissa hold her hand, looked at the red mark on her husbands cheek. She knew she had crossed the line, but she was so angry. So... Disappointed. 

[lucklessladies-blog]

The villain @darkmarkedmen

Her fists had punch the rock millions of times, like she was trying to get out by using pure strength. So the one time the whole wall exploded when her fist met it, she was sure that it had finally gave up. She jumped in the cold water, she didn’t care if the waves swallowed her, she just wanted out. 

Her head was almost empty, even her thoughts seemed to echo between her ears. They had almost took her soul. But one thing had remain, one thing she had hold tooth and nail. And that thing was a cruel laugh of a cruel man. Xavier Avery was and always had been her best friend, a man she loved but didn’t seem to have a chance with. 

Now he was all she had left. So she swam until she passed out. A muggle fishing boat saved her and took her to the shores of England. She remembered the route to the manor of the Avery family like it was yesterday and not over a decade. When the sun started to rise and made the drops of dew shine, she had climbed to Averys window, like she had done millions of times, opened it and jumped in.

Just like she had always done.

[lucklessladies-blog]

The good son @darkmarkedmen​ 

The house hidden in the street of Grimmauld Place had turned into a quiet one after the heir of the House Black stormed out, leaving the room reeking of smoke and burnt tapestry. Day after day Walburga just sat and stared at the wall, at the stain of the family. Sleepless nights carved dark circles under her eyes and the peak of her cheekbones turned purple and blue. Sirius had really meant that punch.

When a week had passed she finally rose from that chair and climbed up the stairs. The sound of her heels against the wood sounded almost haunting. She stopped behind his door and knocked, tried to listen the voices of her youngest - no, her only child.

Sirius had maybe left the house, but she still haunted her in her heart. She wanted the pain to stop, she wanted to erase the stain once and for all.  But she knew she was too weak. She didn’t want to admit it but that didn’t change the truth. Sirius had once been her first born, and once she had loved her more than her own life. 

“Sweetie, it’s me. Can I come in?” she said, voice like velvet, before opening the door. She tried to smile, she really did, but it looked like she was in pain. “I am truly sorry that you had to be part of such... Brutal conversation. Are you alright?”