got a secret?

Rita Skeeter. Seventh year Slytherin. Future journalist

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

rosiiers:

          “i think it’s quite fun, don’t you? i mean, of all people, i’d expect you to have the most interest in sending the less fortunate a bit of a ‘gift’ i suppose. not from you, of course. you don’t have feelings. and if you need money to make someone miserable, you can always tell me. i’d be more than happy to oblige.”

“Well of course I think it’s entertaining, but I could care less about gifting anything to anyone. WHat, did you send any, Rosier? Although I reckon it would have been a little fun to send some fake ones. Could you imagine sending, I don’t know, little Miss Woodrow something from say, our good from Amycus? Genius. Although if you’re feeling generous you can just start putting it towards my birthday gift. Start up a little fund.”

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

islagoldstein:

“Actually, you’d be surprised by how many people do end up getting laid after sending a simple piece of paper and a piece of chocolate. I’d say it works for me, but I get laid regardless.”

“But are they people in relationships? I’ve gotten my fair share of valentines but honestly there’s nothing remotely attractive to me about some stalker confessing their love for me. Any other day of the year like sure, flatter me, but don’t do it because you’re forced to. Although I’m not surprised, I’m sure you have to be selective with which Valentines you accept.”

[lorcvndeath-blog]

the pretty lies & the ugly truth // rita + lorcan

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

lorcvndeath:

@writingritaskeeter

He waited until Lucinda had left, nodded once more to assure her that he was feeling better now, he wasn’t going to go on some sort of killing spree through the school. He was better now. Except as soon as she was out of sight he whipped around on his heel, the hood of his jacket spinning with him as he narrowed his eyes on the direction he’d heard a shift from. A shuffle, almost, something so quiet it didn’t seem to catch Lucinda’s attention, but with his emotions running as high as they were (and his superior genes) he had been alerted to it immediately. So he rushed and he found a small blonde.

Now, in Lorcan’s experience small blondes were typically quite good news, but considering this one - Rita Skeeter - had clearly heard about everything that had happened, it was not going to be fun. So he stood up, crossed his arms. “What did you hear?” He asked her, trying to look menacing. “Why were you listening?”

It wasn’t as if Rita had intentionally gone looking for something to eavesdrop on - at least not this particular time. She had truly been just making her way from the dungeons, she had more pressing matters in the form of Ludo Bagman to attend to out by the shed the brooms for flying classes were kept in. It was out of her control that she just so happened to hear the overly frustrated sounds of distress coming from the other end of the corridor, the silence in the rest of the hallway making it easier for her to pick up just whom was talking. It was nearly impossible not to recognize the voice of Lorcan D’eath when it rang throughout the ancient, empty hall. Similarly, Rita had noticed the absence of the boy as well over the past few days. With an ego as big as his, it was nearly impossible for someone as observant as Rita to not notice the lack of desperate ‘I’m a rockstar’ type pick up lines, and the ever so humiliating ‘bat daddy’ name he gave himself.

But what she was overhearing wasn’t some plea for sex or him trying to serenade some girl into his bed, no, this seemed serious. With the knowledge of his brief disappearance in mind, Rita made sure to clear her surroundings before she transformed into her beetle form, the small black bug scurrying up and along the wall until she was perched perfectly behind Lorcan and her fellow Slytherin, Lucinda. What she ended up hearing was more than she’d expected - and it was all solid information. She listened through the duration of the conversation, waited until she had assumed both parties had fled the scene and then stupidly transformed back into the petite blonde state that she regularly existed in. “Christ” Rita barked, hand falling to her chest quickly as her heart nearly caught in her startled throat. Hadn’t he gone? She’d made sure of it - she wouldn’t have transfigured herself back into her human state if she hadn’t been one-hundred percent sure. Fuck. How did he know? He couldn’t have seen..

“Listening to what? Jesus, honestly, give a girl a heart attack on her way to the loo why don’t you!’ She snapped back, playing innocent despite her heart thudding nervously in her chest. “Can you move now, D’eath? I’m sure there’s a girl in need of a pathetic pick up line somewhere around here.”

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

“It makes me nauseous to think about how many sickles must have been wasted this week to send all of these damn valentines. I mean, it’s quite entertaining to watch everyone make fools of themselves thinking they’re in love, but really, if you like someone, man up and just tell them. You’re not going to get laid by sending some anonymous card.”

[rosiiers]

holy ghost / evanita

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

rosiiers:

rita skeeter did not spook easily. this, evan knew. she was never afraid of anything;; not dementors or mcgonagall or HIM. but he could hear it in her voice ( or lack thereof ), the fear that laced every WORD, the little stop that seemed to somehow — by some MIRACLE reach his ears. the only thing he could hear was his heartbeat, the rest of the world muffled, even rita’s soft voice, even the swirling winds that seemed so ALL CONSUMING. she was afraid. she was afraid of him. that meant something much more than rosemary being afraid of him that night;; he frightened the fearless. he had become such a monster, so CORRUPTED, that he had truly scared her speechless. 

he felt the sudden, striking, ODD compulsion to reach out and hold her;; to wrap his arms around her and protect her from it all. but it was HIM she needed protection from. he ran a hand over his mouth ( the one that wasn’t bleeding, thankfully ) and sniffled slightly, stumbling backwards and falling into a seated position on the hard ground. he pressed the butt of his palm against his eye, head pounding, world still spinning.

                    “fuck,” he whispered, mostly to himself,                      but maybe also to those stars that                     reflected him in all his cataclysm. “fuck,”                      he said, a little more forcefully, tugging                      at his hair.

She was on the tail of leaving after what had just occurred. For once in her life Rita didn’t know how to feel, and it was a feeling she despised. She hated having a lack of control over anything, but not having control over her feelings was a new low for her. She felt vulnerable and Rita usually prided herself on being stronger than average - really anything but vulnerable. This was new and uncomfortable and she didn’t like giving anybody any type of power over her, especially not Evan. Especially not like this. He was already power hungry whether he’d admit it or not, and usually he wouldn’t because he was Evan Rosier and he didn’t need to have a hunger for power - he already had it. Just the way he walked in the halls, some intimidating figure, a mere myth to first and second years. He was known...but for what? That was where Rita had her advantage with him - there was nothing superior about him, there was nothing for her to fear in his shadow. There hadn’t been before now.

Rita watched the boy dance in his madness, an internal war occurring within the barricades of her chest. He stopped laughing maniacally; he stopped screaming at her small figure. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost as he stared into her eyes before he stumbled back until he finally collided with the ground and started to fall apart. She wasn’t the only vulnerable one after all, and whilst her heart was pounding in her chest, hair raised on the back of her neck from both the cold wind and her stricken nerves, she felt pain for him in herself. Just as the boy she’d seen a mere sixty seconds earlier was someone that she’d never met before, this version of Evan was another stranger. He wasn’t just drunk or strung out, trying to hide his pain through intimidation and malice. No, this Evan was.. genuinely hurt. “Evan..” Rita breathed out in sympathy, but the name that fell from her lips was barely audible to even herself as she watched the boy have some sort of revelation with himself. She couldn’t just leave him here like this. He was capable of doing so much harm in this state, especially to himself. She couldn’t walk away when he so clearly needed someone. Again, it wasn’t like Rita to stick around and express any sort of care for others situations unless she profited from their pain in any way, but this was Evan. This was her person.

She shook her head slightly, subconsciously running her tongue across her chapped lips. “Ev..” she breathed out again as she took a slow few steps towards his diminished figure. Should she keep her wand at bay just in case? Rita swallowed, throat dry from the mixture of cold air and yelling as she cautiously rounded behind him, slowly bending down so she was crouched to his side but at a safe enough distance for her to draw her wand if need be. “I won’t leave you here like this.” she spoke quietly, using the hand that didn’t rest by her wand to slowly take one of his hands, the one with the gash right through his palm. She looked at the cut knowing she’d need to read through some books before she figured out just what spell to cast over the wound. “I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him in a soft voice.

[carrow-amycus]

writingritaskeeter:

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[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

It should have been less of a surprise to Rita when Amycus declined being on the receiving end of any foreplay - he was always rather dominant when they had their not so ‘one-night’ stands, but surely she expected to at least give him some oral. However she wasn’t going to complain - Amycus’s generosity when it came to sex was one of the things she liked best about their friendship. He was definitely one of those guys who got more turned on by the thought of making the other cum rather than himself. She moaned lightly as his fist tugged her long hair, pulling her up straighter while her hands held firmly against the wooden desk, letting out a soft breath of pleasure as his mouth worked down along her neck yet again. “How can I refuse an offer like that?” She laughed lightly as her eyes shut at the feeling of his length pressing against her core. “Shut up,” she muttered as he teased her about her wetness, meaning it in more of a ‘fuck me already’ tone than her giving two shits about being teased in that moment. Simultaneously, Rita lifted her hips so she was bent more so over the desk than she had been, her body language telling Amycus to give them both what they wanted - what they needed desperately. A sharp breath escaped her pink lips when the stronger one suddenly pushed into her with force, her painted nails grabbing at the surface of the desk to help balance herself from the force of his thrusts - all of which she welcomed. “Fuck,” she moaned out loudly as pants began to fall from her lips. The girl pressed her palms harder into the desk as she rocked her hips back to meet his thrusts, “fuck, Am,” she cried louder as his hand tightened in her hair, pulling her further as she ground back against his length, nothing but both his deep grunts and her loud moans and the sound of skin against skin filled the room that smelled suddenly of sex. That was one of her favorite things about hooking up with Amycus. Sure, they dirty talked a bit more when it wasn’t something as desperate as this booty call, but there was something so pleasurable about not having to try - they knew what they wanted and that was sex. No bullshit and frills. “Harder,” she let out forcefully, knowing he always enjoyed being rough to the point of climax.

[rosiiers]

holy ghost / evanita

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

rosiiers:

he’d known rita since her first year and his second. they knew each other inside and out like the workings of two twin clocks, always keeping perfect time. but it seemed that something in him had switched. perhaps the minute hand was broken, or the second hand just ten too quick. whatever it was, their timing just seemed a bit off. his inner workings had been switched around, screws loose and gears reassembled, leaving her to pick up all the missing pieces. he felt guilty that she had to, but he wasn’t sure how to make it stop. his mind festered and bruised, rattled and shaken by all of the commotion around him, by the vile words that seemed to slip past his own tongue. he felt like what she would call broken, but inside he knew that’s just what he’d been built for. evan rosier was made to be less man and more machine, with pieces that didn’t quite fit together, giving the illusion of a perfectly ticking clock face at the front. but inside, the gears ground together and sparks flew, dissonance running through his veins and chaos through his bones. he watched discourse bleed an inky reflection of the stars onto a piece of glass.

                    his body was not his own as he turned around                      and let out a cackling laugh that broke the sullen                     air around him. he let the bottle drop as per her                     instruction, taking a few steps forward, running the                      bloody hand over his right temple. evan pivoted                      quickly, the noise he had made ending all too                      abruptly. “FANTASTIC! MUST MEAN I’M A REAL                      BOY AFTER ALL!” he yelled, cutting off the end of                      her sentence, his voice coarse and unrehearsed, as                      if he had forgotten how to talk properly. the smile                      finally dropped as if it were the curtain of a broadway                      show. “YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME,” his voice                      ripped through the air, through the swirling, seething                      wind. “SO STOP ACTING LIKE YOU UNDERSTAND                      BECAUSE I CAN PROMISE YOU YOU DON’T.” he                      said, and his chest rose and fell with unsteady breath.

his throat was hoarse, a sour taste in his mouth like he had been vomiting the pure, unabridged blood of chaos that reigned within him. he kept harsh eye contact with her in the metallic night, the only reassurance he was still even alive being the puff of white breath that seemed to be escaping his lips.

When Evan’s bleeding hand released the remnants of the bottle he’d finished off Rita assumed the worst had come and gone. He was being agreeable, which for Evan was saying a great deal. She opened her mouth to speak, to try to stop him before he ran his bloody hand over his face, Rita swallowing nervously as she watched the bright red substance stain his skin, glistening as if they were jewels and his body were a throne and then suddenly - a scream. Rita dropped her hand, heart thudding and catching in her throat as all sense of having any sort of dominance in the moment vanished. His screams were mechanical as he made a mockery of her own words, each breath he took turned the following word into a louder one. She wanted to reach out to him and take his hand, calm him with soft, reassuring words, stroke his hair and comfort him but all she could feel was something new. This feeling wasn’t one that she was used to and it was something she couldn’t remember feeling for a long time. It was if her mind suddenly went dark, her stomach dropping and the hair on the back of her neck stood tall. She felt as if she were being consumed by the darkness he was exerting; as if she could see the ten foot monster that he claimed to possessed standing tall behind him. She was feeling fear - something that had only been foreign to her until now. “Stop,” she stated in his general direction though the words didn’t carry, not in comparison to his that echoed out onto the lake.

But Rita was small, in both stature and at that moment, voice. Evan towered over her in all senses, only getting bigger and bigger with each sharp breath he drew. His words cut her in a way that Rita hadn’t imagined she could ever be cut. Evan was someone she trusted - or someone she thought she had trusted. But this wasn’t Evan. This was the shell of her friend, clearly inhabited with demons of his past that she had never come to know. Why hadn’t he told her about this before? What was this even? “You don’t mean that!” She yelled back over the sound of his screams and the wind around them. But he continued to tower over her, body tense and buldging as she found her own shrinking. He bared his teeth, eyes narrowed on her small frame as his chest heaved rapidly. The hand she had previously extended to help him was now withdrawn to her chest, the other rubbing it as if he had struck it and caused it physical pain. It shook with the rest of her body, originally from the cold of the night but now from the boy in front of her.

How many times was she going to do this? How many times was she going to try to help a boy who refused to be helped? Maybe Evan was right - maybe she didn’t know him. She knew that if this was who he was then she wanted no parts of it. She got enough trouble from people she didn’t consider friends, she didn’t need it from him too. Rita had come down to help him but she was quickly learning that maybe he was beyond the point of return. This wasn’t her friend. Never had he yelled at her -  at anyone-  like this. “Okay.” She breathed out quietly enough that it could have been interpreted that she’d meant for nobody but herself to hear it, voice as small as she felt. “I’ll go.” She tried to nod her trembling head as she stumbled backwards as her feet collided with the ground that went from flat to hill. She had wanted to help Belle; she had wanted to help Evan. But now she had to help herself and surrounding herself with him in this state was nothing but the opposite of that.

[rosiiers]

holy ghost / evanita

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

rosiiers:

he didn’t have to wonder what she was talking about. this wasn’t the first some someone had had to come and save him from himself;; rescue him from the salt water that seemed to be sloshing around in his lungs. she referred to his ADDICTION, but that wasn’t quite the right word for. it was more similar to salvation. it was the only place he could find it. he knew rosemary found hers in god, even with the blood of christ between her teeth, and rita found hers in writing, where she could bleed ink until her skin was pale, but evan had yet to find something half as cathartic. and so he tried to drown it out. he tried to quiet his own voice in the back of his head, step on his anxiety like a bug, be away from the world he so detested for just ONE NIGHT. but then things like this kept happening, and he struggled to take hold of the situation.

rita’s voice was familiar on his ears, the harsh intonation and silken cadence like honey and ichor spilling from her mouth. he wondered, briefly, if she had always looked this savagely beautiful;; if she had always had this golden fleece pouring down her shoulders, or those lips that looked like they’d been stained by pomegranate. he wondered, absently, if she had always looked this GODLY. there was something RAW about her that he’d never seen in anyone else; something true behind cold eyes. she was magnificent and fierce and doused in faded moonlight, her breath coming out in puffs of white cloud that dappled the air around her. he’d missed seeing her.

his palm ached dully as he staggered forward, looking down to see blood dripping onto the frozen ground. he clenched his fist, the gash stinging, though it didn’t seem to betray itself on his face. there was a wicked madness to him, as if he’d walked straight out of the witching hour, bathed in black night, speckled with exploding stars, CATACLYSMS dancing across his skin. his body was a ballroom dance of catastrophe, dissonant music from his mouth and broken hymns on his tongue, the echo of a laugh tracing his lips. he was so BROKEN it played across his face like a damn movie. he sniffled, though he didn’t even realize he seemed to be crying, and grinned at rita.

                    “daddy’s money?” he asked, but it sort of                      hissed through his teeth like the tail end                      of a prayer. “DADDY’S MONEY has nothing                      to DO with my life being fucked.” his voice                      rose without his permission, a bit hoarse and                      callous on the edges. the smile still dripped                      from his lips though, white and sharp and                      split in half. he started to laugh. “you don’t                      know the HALF of it, skeeter.”

There had been numerous occasions and various states of sobriety that Rita had witnessed Evan in over the past seven years of their friendship, but never had she seen something like this. The blonde had witnessed instances of him doubled over a toilet, throwing up more than just vomit and angry words due to some illicit potion he’d come upon one way or another. She’d watched as he’d drunkenly tried to persuade fellow Slytherins into going up to his empty dormitory with him, or some attractive student of another house to find him down by the greenhouses, sometimes succeeding and other times being so flat out rejected that Rita had spat out whatever drink she’d been nursing a few feet over in order to laugh. Some nights she’d find his intoxicated body asleep by the fire in the common room late at night, not having been able to get his body far enough to the stairs in the dungeon they lived to make it to his dorm and therefor leaving the girl to drape a blanket over his body before retiring to her own bed. But in seven years of reckless partying together, Rita had never seen Evan in a state such as the present. Was he even that drunk, or was this something more than firewhisky?

From her spot perched at the bottom of the hill Rita watched, body idle as he staggered forward slowly, the grimace that spread across his face as he balled up his fists and Rita swallowed minimally, brows knitted together while her eyes sported an unamused glare in his direction, not letting her eyes move from his face as he croaked out heinous cackles. Then came the tears. This wasn’t Evan - this wasn’t her best friend. “Ev-” she started as if to interrupt him but then his voice broke through the crisp air, a loud scream of words escaped him angrily but his face continued to bear his malevolent smile. He sounded as if he were purely mad. “No?” She called back as he questioned just what she knew. “I know that you act as if you weren’t born with a silver spoon up your arse and as if you have a million and one reasons to be mad at the world.” She retorted with the sound of pure annoyance coating her throat. “What’s the meaning for all of this, Evan?” She yelled over the sound of the wind which was now picking up in speed, Rita pulling her jacket tighter over herself as her teeth chattered. “You know I’ve never done anything but help you and all you’ve ever been is an ungrateful shit for it.” 

She brushed a strand of her long hair from her face, blown and stuck on her lips from the wind before she took a few somber steps towards Evan’s figure, noticing the broken shards of whatever bottle top he was clutching in his bare hand reflecting the moon above, noticing the metallic reflection of the stars on the droplets of blood that began to pool on a broken piece beneath where his hand rest idly.  “Evan, you’re bleeding,” she announced, head motioning towards his hand as she tried to steer the conversation away from the pity party he was throwing himself as she dropped her arms from around her chest as she started slowly walking closer to him. “Toss that,” she told him, head motioning once again towards the sharp glass he held in the cut hand. The last thing she needed was to try and stop him from hurting himself even further. At this point - seeing as deep into self-destruction he so desired to be in, she wouldn’t rule out the possibility. “We can finish talking about this inside,” she suggested. “Now will you just let me - “ she started as she stepped within arms distance, reaching out a steady hand, asking for his injured one so she could mend something.

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

carrow-amycus:

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Her breath hitched slightly in her throat when Amycus gently caught her wrists, pushing them to her sides as he gave her that teasing smirk, letting her last name fall quietly from his lips before she felt his strong hands traveling up her thighs to the top of her panties, his fingers hooking underneath the top of them and pulling them from beneath her skirt. She kept her eyes on him as he lowered himself, the girl drawing her lower lip into her mouth, biting softly in anticipation as she knew what was coming next. “Always such a gentleman,” she teased in a hushed voice as her lifted her legs over his shoulder, the blonde sliding forward slightly on the desk. She followed his head from above as he moved his mouth further up her thigh, his light touch already seeming to drive her towards full on needing to feel him. A soft moan escaped her throat as he began fully sucking on the skin after his head had fully disappeared beneath her skirt, his name barely audibly falling from her mouth as if she were telling him to hurry the hell up, and just like that she got what she craved. “Fuck,” she muttered softly as her eyes shut and her head fell back, both hands trying to clutch onto the wooden desk as Amycus generously pleased her with his mouth. Her body subconsciously inched forward with each passing minute as if she needed to feel his tongue deeper, one hand moving from the desk to his hair, fingers snaking through the strands and tugging as her hips bucked forward, louder moans escaping her now. Who would have thought the boy she’d de-virginized three years back would be making her feel this good on such a regular basis. Practice makes perfect. They stayed that way for a good while, Rita being more than happy to be on the receiving end of his generosity until her legs were shaking so hard that she thought she might already climax. Tugging his head back with the same fingers laced in his hair, Rita chewed eagerly on her lip as she locked eyes with Amycus, her hand moving from his hair to the collar of his shirt, pulling him back to his feet and in between her legs. Without uttering a single word Rita moved her hands back to his belt, this time Amycus not stopping her as she unbuckled the belt and button, reaching her hand in underneath the fabric of his briefs, her delicate hand wrapping firmly around his already hard length, a devious smirk playing at her lips as she began to move her hand along him, slowly at first but with each pump came increasing speed. “Tell me what you want, Am.” She breathed out softly, their faces near each other but Rita not bothering to try and lean up and kiss him - they didn’t do that, and she was fine with it. “Tell me how I can make you feel good,” she continued, her thumb running over his tip.

[rosiiers]

holy ghost / evanita

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

rosiiers:

@writingritaskeeter

evan’s brain rattled around in his head with every stumble and pivot, unkempt and riddled with tragedy. his mouth was a pluming fountain of hot white breath, spread across the winter air like the ghost of his coherent thoughts. his nose burned a blue sort of cold, spreading to the hollows of his cheeks and the crooked knuckles of his fingers wrapped around the whiskey bottle. there was a certain familiarity in the chill;; the sharp phantom scent of vanilla and sea salt pressing itself into his skin. it reminded him of his mother and he suddenly felt an intense pit forming in the bottom of his stomach. he could see her in images of belle’s face ( HADN’T SHE JUST BEEN HERE A SECOND AGO? ) where her eyebrows met the bridge of her nose, or those eyes that haunted him;; both sets BRIMMED with transparent tears. he shook his head with a quivering breath, trying to rid himself of the memories. his mother was a crumbling EMPIRE. he could see it in every lie she forced through her teeth, in every smile she coaxed onto her lips. he could feel it in the too thin fingers that touched his face, in the broken voice that told him MY HOW YOU’VE GROWN. and she was once so magnificent.

his body twisted before he could think about it, hands clinging to the neck of the bottle as he brought it against a tree trunk with a SMASH. the glass shattered around him, and he saw himself remaindered in their ranks as he backed away from it slowly, pieces crunching beneath his feet. his eyes moved quicker than he felt they usually did, darting about the scene in front of him, searching for some semblance of reality within it. the world bent and twisted around him, though the distinct burn of alcohol or fuzzy clouds of a potion were absent from his head. THERE. he thought. IT MUST ALL BE MY MIND. but the realization did nothing to soothe him;; in fact, it seemed to do just the opposite. he knew he was breathing but he wasn’t sure how. if this was all in his head then there was no way to FIX it. rosemary couldn’t use some type of healing spell on this;; it was his responsibility. and he was terrified.

evan’s lips twisted into a broken smile, his teeth woven with thickets and brambles. his tongue felt heavy and like it was made of silver. he’d never gone to CHURCH, but an air of judgement buzzed around him. he knew, in his heart of hearts, especially when he looked into rosemary’s eyes, he was going to burn. his scar tissue was built on sin, every HEARTBEAT, every breath contradictory of virtue. but it confused him, see, because JUST as he thought he’d seen god in that little mouse of a girl, with that accent that sounded like a HAIL MARY every time she spoke and those eyes like an olive branch, he saw the same in the girl walking down the path. 

he could tell just by the way she held herself;; the weight of the world resting between her shoulder blades, perched on a rigid spine. evan watched GOD walk down towards him, wrapped in a thick winter jacket. he stuttered through the eerie grin he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face, puffs of white breath that scattered themselves through the air.

                    “RITA SKEETER!” he said as if he were a                      cartoon, loud and through a grin that was                      only halfway rooted in reality. “lovely day,                      isn’t it?” evan laughed, but it was just a                      note off from usual, as he gestured to the                      dark, cold night around them.

Not everyone realized that to be a journalist you also had to be an actress. Rita pretended to be a lot of people that she wasn’t - kind, generous, warm - none of which were adjectives that the blonde would ordinarily use to describe herself. But she was kind when a potential subject couldn’t find a partner in class to pair up with. She was generous when a subject was a few sickles short to purchase that second butterbeer down in Hogsmeade. And she was warm when someone she needed something from was hurting or lonely and needed that shoulder to cry on. Rita possessed these character traits when she was after something, masterfully skilled in the art of deception and manipulation. She stopped at few lengths to discover the truth. But it wasn’t fake warmth that she pushed onto Belle when she came frantically scrambling into the Slytherin common room, first a somber face playing at her face as she found Rita curled up, enjoying the near silence of the room and reading by the fire.

The younger Rosier looked as if she were on the verge of tears, or as if she had just been expelling said tears, face pale in all areas aside from her cheeks and bright red nose and she’d just come in from outside in the cool winter night. The kindness she bestowed on her was far from fake as she tried to coax complete sentences from her, hearing bits and pieces about Evan and down by the lake and drunk or mad. It was enough for Rita to understand without hearing more than those few words what was happening, and something similar to a fire had sparked in her stomach. “Shh,” she cooed genuinely at Belle as she stood up, trying to place the younger girl down in the spot she’d just been. “It’s okay, it’ll be fine. I’ll talk to him, don’t worry.”

Rita was angry; half-blood blood boiling within as she quickly fetched a thicker jacket and her wand, muttering in annoyance to herself as it was the black of the freezing cold January night and the last place she wanted to be was heading down towards the black lake where the air was surely to be full of chilly winds from the eerily dazzling water. She wondered if Belle’s first thoughts had been to come and find her. Had she just been the first one she came upon due to the lack of anyone else in the common area? Had it been anyone but Belle perhaps she would have shrugged off her concerns, telling them that Evan was more than capable of taking care of himself. But it was Belle and she could see that she was scared and Rita had a soft spot for her. She didn’t want to have to go berate Evan yet again this week; they had yet to speak since that afternoon in the hallway and Rita had no interest in speaking to him again either. Not yet, at least.

She followed the dark trail down to the lake, the only lighting coming from the lights of the castle from above and the moon and stars in the sky. It was freezing out and there was certainly no way that they were actually allowed to be here this late. Rita could spot Evan wandering in circles around himself, stumbling and hearing his voice as if he were laughing to himself and she found herself growing even angrier. “Christ, Rosier, you just can’t say no, can you?” She yelled from the edge of the path rather than following into the dirt ‘beach’ between the path, lake, and forest, wanting to keep her distance. “How dramatic are you going to get? We get it, your life is so tough and you don’t know know what to do with all of daddy’s money. Must be tough! Now can we go inside? It’s fucking freezing and your sister’s worried you’re going to drink yourself to death and I’ve got half the mind to tell her she’s probably right.”

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

carrow-amycus:

With a roll of his eyes, he looked over at Rita. “Don’t worry, Skeeter, you’ll find that this walk will be worth your while.” Amycus smirked and kept leading her farther into the dungeons. It was late enough that all of the classes were all let out, so he knew there would be no trouble in finding an empty potions classroom. It wasn’t the most comfortable of locations, but it would do. Besides, he and Rita had often found themselves in places even worse than that. After he brought her through the threshold, his wand was withdrawn and he locked the door with a spell and charmed the windows so it would look as though no one was inside the room at all. His wand slid back into his pocket, and he turned to face the girl. Without a word, his hands found her hips and he was walking her backwards until she was pressed between him and the wall. The gasp that fell from her lips only made him smirk more before he ducked his head down to press heated, needy kisses along her neck. His teeth nipped at her skin, and if his mouth wasn’t occupied he would be grinning at how her body immediately reacted him. It was hard to believe that his first time had been with the girl who was now practically moaning in his ear. She was his first and only kiss– and she knew better than to come back for more of that. They were friends with benefits, and had been every since he lost his virginity to her during fourth year. Since then, he’d become very well acquainted with her body and what she liked– exactly what to do to make her legs shake and her knees weak. “What were you saying about being in the middle of something?” Amycus chuckled as he grazed his lips up her neck to her jaw then straight to ear. “I’m sure you’d much rather enjoy if I was in the middle, between your legs,” he whispered huskily, knowing that would only make her more eager for him to get on with it. Amycus pulled his body back from hers, and brought her over to where the professor’s desk was. With one hand he lifted Rita onto the desk and grinned, “Unless, you’d rather go back to whatever it was I tore you away from?”

Rita mused a fake ‘hah’ at his confidence as she followed him farther down the hallway towards the end of the corridor where there was a severe lack of occupancy. Between his words and the obvious empty direction in which he was steering her towards Rita was starting to put two and two together. “Carrow..” she started to say, a small smirk playing at her lips as he showed her into an empty classroom, watching as he charmed the lock on the door and before she could even turn her head back from the door to Amycus she felt his hands grasp onto her hips, roughly walking her back until her back pressed against the blackboard, a sharp breath catching in her throat as he pushed her blonde locks aside, instantly pressing his lips to the sensitive spots of her neck. Rita swallowed as she let her head tilt backwards, eyes shut as she let out a dry laugh. It wasn’t often that Amycus Carrow joked around or showed much of having a sense of humor at all, but Rita knew just how playful he could be when it came to doing activities such as this. “Fuck, Carrow,” she muttered as she tilted her head to the side to give him more access, letting out another sharp breath when his teeth tugged on her ear. “Your timing sucks,” she told the boy who was more than happy to have pulled her from her work. She felt a familiar sensation of warmth from inside her as he growled out naughty suggestions in his deep voice and Rita laughed in the slightest, willingly allowing him to pull her by the hand over to the professor’s desk. There were a few pieces of parchment and books scattered on top of the wooden structure as well as a few glass viles that Rita pushed to the edge of the desk when Amycus effortlessly lifted her with one hand. “Shut up already,” she muttered, reaching forward and tugging him closer by his belt buckles, this time leaning forwards herself to nip at the skin on his neck, sucking a bit at it whilst using her hands to expertly unfasten his belt buckle.

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

carrow-amycus:

Amycus felt like his stress levels had even more ever since the night that Rosemary had found him in the chapel. He didn’t want to think that she had motives behind wanting to be his friend, but it was starting to seem that way. Normally, when you befriended someone it was because you already liked them, not because you wanted to change them. The Gryffindor girl definitely seemed to want to change him though. He was a soldier covered in steel armor, it protected him from attempts of trying to mold him into any other way, and he had to be more careful to leave his armor on when he was around her. Especially since she didn’t trust him. Now Rodolphus was going through his own personal hell and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this stressed out. He didn’t mind sometimes taking on the role of caretaker when his friends had done that plenty of times for him. But right now he needed a distraction. Amycus wanted all thoughts out of his head and knew exactly who could help make that happen. “Hey,” he said to a seventh year Slytherin girl, stopping her in the common room before she could head up to her dormitory. “Can you grab Skeeter for me?” Amycus requested and she gave him an uncaring nod. Normally, he’d wait for her to just happen to come down but he was too tense to be patient. When she emerged from the stairwell, he fought a smirk. “Evening, Rita. Care for a walk?” He nodded over to the exit and before she could reply and he started to lead her out.

@writingritaskeeter

Since New Years Eve there had been so much happening throughout the castle and Rita felt pressed for time to get out her next time sensitive piece before it all surpassed without the school knowing her views on it all. For some reason students seemed to care about whatever ‘B’ had to say whether it was regarding news as big as death or as small as what new school couples were coming about. Rita lay down on her stomach, legs up and ankles crossed, kicking absentmindedly in the air as her eyes followed the words her bewitched quill was scribbling across the piece of bewitched parchment floating in front of her face when the door to the seventh years dormitory opened and she was greeted with the call of her own name. Disliking any disturbances during her writing process Rita tore her eyes from the parchment, the bewitched quill freezing in place as she eyed the girl with obvious annoyance. “What is it?,” she snapped. She should know she didn’t like to be interrupted when writing - that was a known fact. “Sorry..” the girl mumbled, “it’s just Amycus was asking for you.” Rita sighed heavily, rolling her eyes as she let the bewitched parchment and quill drop to her bed as she pushed herself up, smoothing down the wrinkles in her uniform sweater before stashing the piece of parchment in her trunk before locking it. The last thing she needed was one of these girls exposing her ass. As she headed down the stairs from the girls dormitories Rita spotted Amycus awaiting eagerly at the foot of the steps. “This better be good, Carrow,” she warned her friend with a hint of warning annoyance in her voice as her feet hit the common room floor. “I’m in the middle of something!” She told the boy as he’d clearly already made up her mind for her.  She rolled her eyes as he motioned towards the passage way out of the dungeon, Rita going through first, arms crossed over her chest. She felt the strong hand of Amycus against the small of her back as he ushered her quickly through the hallways. “You’re in quite the hurry there, Carrow.” she commented with the hint of an amused chuckle because for once he didn’t seem so broody.

[uselesspaparazz-blog]

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

rcsiier:

The oof, the thud and the curse of pain all reached her quickly. The castle was a dangerous place of course but it was rare she saw anyone fall flat on their face, without having been tripped anyhow. “You should be more careful.” she lilted, not moving to help them.

“Jesus, Belle,” Rita murmured towards her young friend as she stepped eagerly over to the poor student, extending her hand to help pull her up. “Don’t worry, love, happens all the time. Trick step there, you’ll get the hang of it with time,” Rita wore a fake smile, looking down at the girl as she patted her back, sending her off before stepping back to Belle’s side. “You should always know who you’re insulting before you insult them. That girl is the daughter of the head of the committee for the disposal of dangerous creatures in the ministry. She could have access to some top secret information for yours truly to learn.”

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

ohdeerevans:

“Just as soon as I write up your detention slip, love,” Lily said wearily, doing just that. Sitting on eir bum, indeed. “You can get right to your dorms. Will you be needing help getting back?”

Rita couldn’t help herself from rolling her eyes at the teacher’s pet trying to give her detention. “Christ, Evans, who put the stick up your ass? I’m on my way back right now, that’s all. Let’s not make this an ordeal.” She tried pleading with this girl as if she were really worried about another detention. Although if she did give her one, Rita was sure she’d find something about the other to expose.

[rosiiers]

using; evanita

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

rosiiers:

he held crashing tides behind his teeth. evan was drowning, slowly, waiting for sea water to spill from his mouth with every lie he’d ever told and swallow him whole;; drag him into the abyss of the ocean and strangle him with tossing waves. the water filled his lungs, his veins — they DANCED merrily behind dark pupils, singing a taunting song as they rolled behind his eyes. he wanted to tell her the truth. she was the only one that had ever known him in the first place;; the only one who had ever CARED to dig deep enough to see anything more than face value. she was the only one who had ever trusted him, ever attempted to understand what it was like inside a WARZONE mind without just trying to fix him. because in the end, he didn’t need to be fixed, as he wasn’t broken in the first place. he was BUILT to be a slaughterhouse. on the outside, he could be anyone, but his insides were woven with thorns and death and destruction;; a true DEVIL IN DISGUISE, with a silver tongue but pointed eye teeth. and rita skeeter had been the only one unbothered enough by fear to take a step inside. he swallowed and averted his eyes.

                     “nicked it from him. i got desperate, skeeter,” he said                       with a head shake. “technically i did pay for it, but he                       also didn’t sell it to me.” 

and then she was lifting up his shirt, and his hand had caught her wrist before her could even think about it. her skin was soft under his palms, pressed so flush to his he could almost feel her heartbeat. he searched her eyes, trying to come up with some explanation for them;; there was nothing he could say without getting her into more TROUBLE, and lord knows she already got herself into enough, poking around in places she didn’t belong. his voice lowered and his face darkened, eyes steady against hers now. their faces were close, and he could feel soft breaths stuttering against his skin, but he paid no mind.

                     “this is not a discussion i’m going to have with you,”                       he said, his voice serious and thick. “it’s in everyone’s                       best interest that you stop asking questions.”

In that moment Rita Skeeter found herself wanting to laugh. She wanted to laugh at his pure stupidity, whether or not it was a lie, although she knew which way she was leaning. “You got desperate,” she repeated, brows lifting as she cocked her head, a small chuckle of amusement escaping her thin pink lips. “about as desperate as you must be right now, digging deep for excuses to give me, is that right?” She continued, green eyes narrowing on his as she shook her head both in disappointment and disgust. The blonde often found herself wondering why she gave a damn about him when clearly he didn’t give a damn about anyone at all, especially not himself. She’d assumed this responsibility over him and she hated it. She didn’t want to be responsible for anyone but herself. She had no allegiance to Evan Rosier other than in terms of winning points for the house cup by not getting points deducted for questioning their professors. But that was where their alliance ended. “Then maybe you are just as dumb as you want people to think you are,” she hissed, both of them knowing that she knew she was right.

When his hand caught her wrist before she could unsheathe his wounds, her breathe caught in her throat, a sharp sound escaping her. It wasn’t that he was hurting her, but that he was interfering. His grip was tight on her small wrist and a part of her wanted her to beg him to try and stop her, give her something to throw his miserable ass on the ground for, continue to provoke him so she had a reason to just stop him. They stood close together, his hot breathe blowing through what she supposed he considered his intimidating voice against her face. She stood almost against him, eyes locked on his hazed over, tired eyes with her hand raised up by her face, his firm grip holding it there. She blinked up at him a few times, her angry grimace dropping from her face as she cocked her head, hazel eyes widening with a hint of innocence as she let him hold her arm in his tight grip. “Were you... you couldn’t possibly be trying to... intimidate me.” Her voice had changed from a hissing anger to the sound of calmness.  “Evan, I thought by now you’d know that that won’t work with me.” Rita pouted her lower lip out as if she were sympathizing with him before yanking her hand out of his grasp, eyes narrowing once again. “You don’t scare me, Rosier. There’s nothing remotely scary about some washed up seventh year repeater who feels the need to live every moment of his life fucked up. And I say that with love, really, I do. We both know I love getting high just as much as anyone, but really,” she leaned in as if going to whisper in his ear, “it’s a little pathetic.” Rita pulled back and took a small step backwards, he face dropping once again. “I’m never going to stop asking questions. Not about this, not about anything. And I will find out what happened to you, for your own good. That’s a promise - from one friend to another.”

[writingritaskeeter-blog1]

aaron-avery:

Aaron cocked his head to the side, a delighted smirk forming on his lips. “To be quite fair,” he defended with a grin, “I’ve been sitting here for quite a while now and you didn’t even notice me until you nearly tripped over me. And you’re in the exact same bushes I am now. So I’d say that scolding me about my sensibility for sitting behind the bushes near the entrance where I’m actually very well hidden doesn’t really make sense.” His shoulders lifted slightly in a shrug, “I was hoping I’d tire myself out here. Why were you stalking that couple?” Aaron asked, because he’d have have to been oblivious to not notice what she’d been staring at after stumbling over him.

Rita had no choice but to chuckle at his fighting words. Clever, she hadn’t even given him the benefit of the doubt. “Touche,” she mumbled, not really one to like admitting defeat. “Although I was merely passing through,” she shrugged, glancing down at the boy. He looked rather sad just sitting there all alone.  “Besides, it’s a little pathetic just sitting here out on your own. If you’re really having that hard of a time sleeping why not just make yourself a sleeping potion. They’re like, first year stuff.” Upon asking about her business Rita refused to show any emotion in her face resembling any sign of having been caught. She could play dumb, ask about what couple he was talking about. But he didn’t look all that threatening.  “I was not stalking. Shouldn’t you be minding your own business?” She snapped at the boy, a hint of a glare forming on her eyes.