I wanna contribute to the chaos

[thestrangerabastan]

𝕽𝖆𝖇𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓 𝕯𝖆𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖎 𝕷𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊 aesthetics moodboard (002/???)

🧦 for a moodboard of my muse’s sense of style

[thestrangerabastan]

with @quaenonvidentur​;​

It was a fine sunday morning, and as so it was a given that Rabastan was hungover. He had managed himself to crash at the Lovegood’s but remembering what made him drink at the first place was a task he was postponing to never. So, as all times where he found himself well taken care of when waking up to the sun in his face he would just get up and go make breakfast, on his own he wasn’t very big on breakfasts, but when there were more people around he would go all the way for it. 

But of course, for Rabastan all the way with cooking never meant cooking the muggle way, cooking spells still asked for technique and experience. And putting music aside, cooking was one of the things he actually enjoyed doing. So getting up early to cook was actually something he could find himself enjoying, instead of feeling like he should to out of some unspoken gratitude toward Dora and Xen for having him over despite him being a fuck up — in the best of ways, of course. He was just done with a pile of pancakes when he heard someone approach and turned to see Xenophilius there. “Morning, dear. Fancy some tea?” 

[thestrangerabastan]

pulchrxclade​:

@thestrangerabastan

​From an outside perspective, the relationship Dora had with Rabastian would be a troubling one. How could anyone remain so close to a man they were intimate with? Well, for Dora, it was quite easy. Rabastian was never one to come off as territorial, and he was never going to harm her; so she trusted that he’d stay in her life and offer his comfort. He gave her away at her own wedding, and she treasured the music he wrote for the ceremony. In fact, she was certain that, up until that day, Xenophilius was convinced Rabastian would steal her away from him. 

“I was thinking of having a themed party! Wouldn’t that be lovely? I thought maybe you could help with a theme idea, because it being just a simple Holiday party would be a bit boring, don’t you think?” She was glad to know he was also one to provoke her habit of going over board in regards to the Holidays. “With everything going on, a themed party would help everyone cheer up! And it would give me an excuse to go and get a new gown. I saw a lovely one yesterday; it was so beautiful. I wish there were more occasions that allowed me to dress up.”

Dora feigned a pout before her smile broke through, “Rabby– what do you think about children?” Not with him, of course, not that it would stop the teasing offer if Xenophilius was in the room. But Alice and Frank’s announcement made her rather envious of the couple. Her eyes were on the ideas she had written, but it was clear she was half day dreaming of being a mother. “…Would I make a good mother?”

.

The thing about Rabastan and the people in his life, is that he tended to keep himself attached to them regardless of how the relationship first developed. Although he did spend a long time living abroad, it still felt like his closest relationships never had the time apart. The one with Pandora being one of them. As Rabastan would skip back home whenever she called him before, but now that he was back it was even easier being close to her. Her husband was an added bonus after all. 

“Winter wonderland in space” Was his half-drunken contribution to the theme idea, blurting out the first thing that came out of his head at the mention “Instead of snow we have ice and no atmospheric oxygen.” He rested his head on her shoulder and mused at his empty cup. “I mean, do you need an occasion to wear a gown?” 

He stopped for a moment, he was sure he heard right, so he had to think for a moment, wonder about the image of it for a moment. “Well, if I don’t have one long-lost illegitimate child somewhere I’d be surprised.” Was the whole opinion he could muster about children when thinking of himself, Rabastan could barely take care of himself, looking after someone else would be quite the task. “You’d be a great mother.” He didn’t even have to think much about it at all. “You are already very motherly. If we hadn’t fucked in the past I’m sure you would have adopted me too.” 

[thestrangerabastan]

penny-abbott​:

Where: Iris’s gallery Who: Open 

Penny had been working crazy hours between her work as a mediwitch and shifts at her mother’s gallery in Godric’s Hollow. Anything to keep her mind off of Christmas was good enough for her. There had been a time when Christmas was her favorite time of year, she would start to do her Christmas shopping in June some years, picking up things that made her think about the people in her life. Which was why it was so painful that she had gifts for Hestia and Wendy that she could never give them locked in a box, shoved in the back of her closet. She wanted to forget that they were there but they kept burning a hole in her heart. Her mother had suggested working in the gallery might do her some good, and it had some. But it had been an hour or two without anyone passing through and she was starting to get antsy.

Which was why she perked up when the bell above the door jingled. “Welcome to the gallery can I help you?”

.

Gift buying was never Rabastan’s forté, putting his name under nice gifts was what he excelled at, before he could ask either Rodolphus or Bellatrix to get something for him to give his mother under the excuse he wasn’t even in the country and couldn’t make for the holidays because of work, now? His excuses had run out. So he entered the gallery with his mind set 

“I need something absolutely hideous.” He announced, he was tired and if his requirements felt under deaf ears maybe someone high powered figure from above could hear his plea and strike him for being so unfilial, and then he coul skip the Yuletide due to a coma. “I keep trying to give my mom nice things, but she always hates them. So fuck nice things, right? What do you guys have hidden in some forgotten storage room that would never sell otherwise?”

[thestrangerabastan]

ofcxrrows​:

Alecto had to admit that there was nothing better than being at her bar. She really did not like being at home. Or well, she hadn’t. After she had graduated Hogwarts Alecto had wasted no time in finding herself her own place. There was no way she was staying in her parents house any longer. The only good thing about having a terrible relationship with her parents was the fact that they were not pushing her to get married. That would mean that would actually have to acknowledge that they had a daughter. And so, it worked well in her favour. But Alecto’s favourite place to be was the bar.

She loved being behind the bar, creating cocktails, and manipulating men to spend all their money. There was no denying that the Carrow twins had a successful business. And Alecto was determined it was going to stay that way. “Oh no no…” She murmured, a little smirk on her lips. “I can’t tell you the ingredients. Then you wouldn’t have to come back to me, and that would be a shame.” She teased, a little grin on her face as she spoke to one of the regulars. Taking the galleons from him, she tucked them into her pocket, before moving down the bar to a familiar face.

“I would say I’m surprised to see you. But I’m not.”

.

Rabastan wasn’t one to let himself go of the opportunity of a good time, and be it drinking himself stupid or going home to a messy studio of all the work he was procrastinating with… Well, the choice was an easy to make. He sat down at the bar watching the exchange unfold calmly, he had all night after all. 

“Do I come here that often or is my name running around?” He wondered, a genuine question he made himself, he was a bit of shut in due to the studio remodeling, but every time he stepped out it some sort of damage had to be caused, be it on his own self or his surroundings. “Whisky & Ginger Highball and do you guys work with freelance musicians?” The last one was a matter mostly of missing playing any type of venue rather than needing the gig itself. So far the production business was going okay, perhaps too okay. 

[thestrangerabastan]

𝕽𝖆𝖇𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓 𝕯𝖆𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖎 𝕷𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊 aesthetics (001/???)

I don't know euphoria Would like to meet her someday 𝔠'𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔩𝔞 𝔳𝔦𝔢 I don't feel hysteria She leaves me lonely ℭ'𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔩𝔞, 𝔠'𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔩𝔞 𝔳𝔦𝔢

((spotify playlist))

[whitneywrites]

Moodboard Meme

send one of the following symbols for a moodboard about my muse:

⭐ for a moodboard of my muse’s personality

🎵 for a moodboard of my muse’s taste in music

🧦 for a moodboard of my muse’s sense of style

🥨 for a moodboard of my muse’s favorite things to eat

🐍 for a moodboard of my muse’s biggest fears

💕 for a moodboard of our muse’s romantic relationship

💛 for a moodboard of our muse’s friendship

🍁 for a moodboard of my muse’s favorite season

☔ for a moodboard of my muse’s favorite kind of weather

🎨 for a moodboard of my muse’s interests/hobbies

[thestrangerabastan]

vanityemmx​:

Emma was out in public when she found out, and she found it hard to contain her anger. She’d never felt like this before. She’d never felt angry at what she read in the papers. Okay, maybe she sometimes felt angry when they badmouthed her. But this was different. People were dead. Innocent people were dead. And the knew her family could have done his. Emma knew that was why she felt angry. She’d already been feeling confused about things. Confused about where her loyalty was, and if she was doing the right thing by doing nothing. But, there was little to be confused about now.

“Fuck…..” She grumbled, shaking her head, as she spun around, throwing the paper into a nearby bin without even reading the rest of it. She ran her fingers through her hair, just trying to calm down. 

.

          Rabastan was… Privileged and self-removed enough to not care much about stuff like that. As long as it didn’t involve him directly he didn’t see the point. Everyone was fending for themselves, weren’t they? So the murmurs of conversation around were a constant hum behind him as he made his way through the streets. 

         He spotted Vanity with the papers, quite mad at it, and it was amusing to say the least, as he would believe easily that she would have no problems with the press itself. 

         “What does the little princess gets from being so pissed, huh?” 

[thestrangerabastan]

elise-greengrass​:

x

It was good to see an old friend, one that brought a smile to her face instead of fill her with anxiety. The blonde’s smile grew wider, a feat barely possible. “I’m so glad”, she exclaimed, giving him one more hug. This time a shorter one. “It was dreadfully dull around here without you. No one to keep out of trouble.”

.

          “Finally, the appropriate response.” Rabastan chuckled at the second hug. “Oh, please, I wasn’t half as bad as that. You say it was trouble, but it was just fun times really.” Well, Rabastan was biased towards his own antics and dreadfully loathed boredom. 

[thestrangerabastan]

deputyheadminerva​:

When: Present Day (Game Time) Where: The Three Broomsticks With: Open to all! :D

The Broomsticks was busy and full of students, as it usually was this time of year, but that didn’t deter Minerva from sourcing herself a butterbeer and escape from the encroaching winter chill. Several students saw her and most avoided eye contact and stepped back, a few braver ones wished her a good afternoon and she returned the greetings on her way to the bar. 

“A butterbeer please Rosmerta,” she smiled at the barmaid, “I’ll be at the booth near the back.” The Transfiguration Professor walked confidently to the rear of the pub and slid into a booth. She shrugged off her cloak, rested her trademark pointed hat by her side and with a flick of her wand conjured a copy of the morning’s Prophet; even if the news was practically ran by Death Eaters, there was still a few columns worth reading. 

Not five minutes after Rosmerta had dropped her drink off and she’d lid a cigarette, placed within a golden-coloured holder, she saw a pair of feet approach and, bending the paper down. “Can a woman not read the Quidditch scores in peace anymore? Or will that soon become one more forbidden pleasure?” she asked dryly. 

.

          Rabastan, was one to believe in coincidences mostly, but so he would almost look forward to it. It could be foolish, but at least it gave him a certain awareness to his surroundings, waiting for opportunity to quickly drop by so he wouldn’t miss it. 

         Spotting Professor McGonagall at the pub while he appreciated a nostalgic pint of butterbeer was one of those coincidences, and he took to it quickly, moving seats to the booth his former professor was located.

         “They do say that the forbidden fruit is always sweetest. So maybe you should look forward to it.” He claimed taking a seat freely, if he was so not welcomed he trusted that she would kick him out and that be it. He had not face to save anymore, anyway. “Well, I come here with a purely academic question, not something real at all. If I, hypothetically, transfigured a piece of high density foam so much to the point the entire studio is now overflowing with its fluffier counterpart, should I even try reversing it or just throw the stuff away? Hypothetically, of course.” 

[thestrangerabastan]

greyback-fenrir​:

Fenrir had been hoping his throw away line would stop Rabastan questioning the fence, but on he went about the ward. If he had been in a better mood he might’ve played along and debated the issue. “No. You’re not a permanently invited guest. When I don’t want you here there will be an enchantment. For now a fence will do.” He hoped he sounded authoritative as if that was the last of the issue. If he’d spoken this way to any of the younger werewolves back home they’d have instantly shut up, but he suspected Rabastan was not as obedient. 

“Yeah, well your brother’s codes piss me off. A hand delivered note is fine so long as I’m given plenty of notice. I don’t live my life at his beck and call. Surely you don’t want to either.” Fenrir was not entirely convinced that Rabastan was better than an owl. Owls didn’t stop to talk to him. Owls didn’t annoy him. Although, Fenrir knew deep down the company did him good. “I suppose.”

.

         “Aw, that’s upsetting.” At this point he was mostly playing thn actually meaning the stuff said. “You know Roddie, all up in his head about message interception, it’s easier to do what he asks here and there.” He shrugged, besides he was better kept occupied. “It’s not a matter of want or not, just that I owe him stuff and I’m paying for it.” Perhaps the actual debt couldn’t be payed off, but at least the emotional one was. Fixing balances, Karma and shit. 

          “Don’t just ‘suppose’, I’m a fucking delight and a sight for sore eyes, c’mon!” 

[thestrangerabastan]

dxrcasxmeadxwes​:

—

‘ I’m not crying over anything, I’m just simply frustrated. ‘ Dorcas mumbled, crossing her arms across her chest and bouncing against each foot for half a moment but just watching the man curiously. She didn’t want to get defensive, but she also didn’t enjoy being called about by a random stranger. Of course it felt like there was a dark cloud just following her through the day- but he didn’t have to vocalize it. She followed his eyes and leaned to her left a bit more, trying to see if she could catch the eyes of whatever creature thought it was a good idea to make that- and even more sell it. ‘ No, you’re good. ‘ She nodded, dropping back onto her feet firmly and letting her eyes settle back on him for a moment. ‘ What exactly was it supposed to be? Or do? Did you ask for a potion? ‘ 

.

          “Well, you can if you want to. Could be extremely therapeutic, you know?” He wasn’t a big cryer himself, but he liked to believe that it was mainly attributed that Rabastan didn’t have much to cry about really. At the confirmation no one was watching from back at the store, he pulled his wand out and threw a quick evanesco at the cup to get rid of it for good. “I was too out of my mind to remember what this was. It was given to me, maybe it is poison or something, who’s to tell. But if I’m making enemies already this early back, then maybe I’m doing something right.”

[thestrangerabastan]

gideonprewctt​:

“No, no, it’s right. I’m telling you, it’s easy. Anybody could throw a knife and make it stick, you’ve just got to take the stuff into account while you’re doing it.” As he spoke, Gideon began to root through his messenger bag, looking for a knife. 

.

          “What would be the stuff to take into account?” He asked, taking off his watch out of his wrist. He transfigured it into a silver knife and played with it a bit to check balance. “Like, there’s a right spell for it or something?” 

[thestrangerabastan]

mrsnarcissa-malfoy​:

Narcissa was a pretty decent potioneer. To be honest, pretty decent was a bit of an understatement. She was good at what she did. And because of that, she could be fairly exclusive, and picky with who she brewed potions for. Her reputation kind of preceded her though, and so someone had owled her about brewing some potions. She wasn’t fully sure if she was going to do it yet, but she figured she was going to have some fun with this. It wasn’t as if they actually needed the money. The Malfoys were very well of after all. Most of the brewing Narcissa did was because she genuinely enjoyed potion making. 

And, so sat opposite her potential client, the blonde raised an eyebrow, her trademark Black smirk on her face. “And just why am I the only one that can brew this for you?”

.

          He had been working way too much the past few days trying to get his acoustic spells stuck on properly and permanently. He great well of ideas was endangered of running dry anytime soon if he could just figure this one out. So, he had to appeal to other methods for that. He could look for the muggle way, but honestly, there must be a simpler way and more effective way of solving his problems, he wasn’t seeing it yet. 

         And that’s what took him to stand  before Narcissa that day, after an extensive search through way too many business cards at the manor, hers was the only one at relevance that got his attention. He made himself comfortable in the chair “If you don’t want to you don’t have to brew it. But it would be such a shame to say that I couldn’t get my desired results met because the Madame Malfoy would rather have little old me looking for some subpar potionmaker in Diagon Alley.” 

[thestrangerabastan]

sylarxflint​:

Sylar had had an easy morning - a boring morning - and found himself wandering through the halls for something else to do. He hadn’t been assigned anything specifically, and all the open cases up for grabs didn’t interest him in the slightest. So he’d find something that did, and it’s how he found himself wandering out and about, not even having told anyone he was leaving. And as he walked through first Knockturn and then Diagon Alley, an idea came to him. Just a moment later, he had turned up at Rabastan’s door. Sylar had truthfully only recently come to appreciate the other man - in school he had annoyed him, but now, Sylar understood. And he liked him. 

“Ah, a fresh face ready primed and ready for corruption.” He said by way of greeting, sending Rabastan a smirk. He strolled in without waiting for an invitation like he owned the place, glancing around with a small frown. “How the hell do you get anything done in here?”

@thestrangerabastan​

.

          Rabastan was this close to sending his wall down instead of properly charming it for acustic isolation, his neighbours be damned, they’d have to deal with his havoc, just like his Hogwarts days. Only because the freaking spell refused to work over that specific paint job, like a bitch of a spell. 

         But, before he could actually knock anything down as he wanted, a familiar voice echoed through the place, he smiled as he recognised the voice. Thinking of his Hogwarts days. 

         “You know me, I’ve always loved a bit of degeneracy.” He stepped out to the front, holstering his wand back “Are you questioning my genius methods, Flint?” 

[thestrangerabastan]

heiress--of--slytherin​:

x

Out of all the ideals that her Bunica thrust on her there was one that both could agree on. Traveling by floo was one of the less desirable ways to travel. It was dirty, disheveling, and the sent of sulfur got stuck in her nose causing it to itch something fierce. Like her buni she preferred the more elegant ways of travel, apparition, brooms, and of course carriage. But when in Rome… That was the correct term right? Following Cassiopeia out of the fireplace Tessa tried to brush some of the ashes off of her skirt before rubbing her nose, which only managed to smear some soot onto her porcelain skin.

With her head down, raven hair in her face, Tess followed the women into a dinning room. She’d managed to do as she was taught for quite a while, remain silent, to not speak unless spoken to. To be seen but not heard. When Madame Lestrange addressed her, it was finally time for her to play her part. But when she sat up removing her long dark strands from her face Cassiopeia let out a gasp. Child, your face. She scolded. Before Tessa could even catch her reflection in the silver teapot her Bunica had already dismissed her to wash the soot from her face.

Going back in there was not exactly something she was looking forward to. The girl had a nagging suspicion of what was being discussed in her absence. It was a topic Cassiopeia had been fixated on ever since Tess started her fifth year of schooling. Finding Tessa a pureblooded husband with a fortune and renown to match that of the Black family that she was distantly a part of. Yet many were already spoken for, and those who weren’t were either blood traitors (according to her buni) or had rejected a match long ago. So, the girl found herself meandering down the halls taking her sweet time looking at various different pieces of art around the house before making her way back to the afternoon tea.

Hearing a slightly familiar voice, Tessa turned to see a more familiar face, one that brought forth a grin. Rabastian. He was a welcome delay. She looked over her shoulder, back towards the dinning room. “I am good, thank you. Lady Lestrange”, she spoke, her ancient much more refined since the last time they spoke. “Invited Bunica and myself for, uh, you say luncheon. It is good to see you here.”

.

          He smiled at that. “Well, I’m here more as a semi-unwilling escort.” With his mother there wasn’t such things as free will, if the dignified Madame Mei Lestrange asked you to accompany her somewhere, you'd go and Rabastan wasn't enough of a fool to say no while he was still threading on thin ice with his mother's suspicions over why he really came back home. Besides financial independence couldn’t cover all his artful experiments and the contracts being breached when he felt being looked down upon. Although maybe that she would help regardless, he was still a Lestrange, and he needed to carry on some pride to his name. “But I’m sure glad to see a familiar face who won’t ask how long until I decide to get a ministry job.” 

[nikascott]