[ This blog post is viewable to friends only ]

[ This blog post is viewable to friends only ]

[ This blog post is viewable to friends only ]

[ This blog post is viewable to friends only ]

[ This blog post is viewable to friends only ]

03/25/2021 11:23 PM  stung - dransy poem for vitriol. 0 Comments

12/16/2020 07:50 PM  A very Malfoy Christmas. A very Malfoy Christmas. 1. describe your character's bedroom in the form of a drabble.   Christmas Day night, Malfoy Manor; Draco L. Malfoy - age thirteen. Holidays at the Malfoy Mansion were always something to look forward to for Draco, although he didn't really have too many friends his age (at least not ones that he could truly say were genuinely his friends because they wanted to be, more like, because their parents knew each other, and well, the children had no other choice but to mingle with each other as well), he did have many expensive gifts to keep him company. And when one had material things, who needed actual friends, really? Once the festivities were over, Malfoy ascended the staircase towards his bedroom; pushing the door open and entering. Immediately, his eyes scanned the vastness of his room, watching as the shadows of the lit fireplace danced upon the slate gray walls, contorting in places where exposed stone peaked through. One would say his room was far too spacious for an only child, but Draco needed all the space that he could have. Besides, he enjoyed having a big room. He would never have to worry about running out of space or having to move anything out of it to make room for more. He could have all that he wanted, and always have the space he needed to move around freely. Draco liked it this way. He couldn't imagine himself living in anything smaller. "Lumos!" he uttered, waving his wand; he brought his room to complete brightness. The sconces on the walls flickered to life and the five-armed ornate chandelier that hung from the middle of his ceiling joined them - glass and pewter glittering against itself. His room itself was elegant in decor, it surely reflected his riches and the privileges of being a Malfoy. It was nice and tidy, everything seemed in perfect place - thanks to his house elves, of course. Draco, himself, wasn't a very neat person, despite his appearances. Why, earlier this morning his room was a mess, socks thrown about, toys and others things left out of place. But, he wasn't one for manual labor. He would never dream of having to pick up after himself. That's what the elves were for. Someone of his caliber would never be caught lifting a finger to do such a thing as housework, not a single finger... except to check for dust of course... Draco's thin index pressed to the top of his vanity, dragging it along its surface, before bringing it close to his face. Gray orbs gazed at his finger closely, narrowing his eyes to inspect and making sure that not a single speck of dirt would be seen atop the tip of his perfectly clean finger; for if he spotted some, he would have to let his father know of the incompetence and that house elf would have to be punished for doing a horrible job at cleaning. Some would call such a thing cruel, but was it really? That's what house elves were meant to do. They prided themselves in such work, didn't they? And so there was no room for mistakes. A house elf that made mistakes, was a useless house elf. Draco rubbed his fingers together and perked a brow, "Hm." He frowned slightly, almost disappointed that there was nothing there for him to complain about. Not a speck of dust, nothing at all. Although he was glad to know that his room was spotless, it was much to his dismay that he wouldn't get to see someone else in trouble. The misfortune of others usually brought him joy, but perhaps some other time? For now, he had a ton of new and shiny gifts to play with and find joy with. He sauntered towards the pile of opened gifts that had been transported to a corner of his room and he grabbed a small matte black box that was placed on top of the other gifts; he opened it and admired the silvery ring with an onyx stone that was inside, a smirk on his face. Parkinson had good taste. However, he wasn't surprised that she knew him so well. She was quite the observant one. There was never a gift from her that he disliked. Draco slipped the ring onto his right ring finger, before tossing the empty box aside and turning his attention back to the pile, grabbing the biggest box and carrying it with him towards his four-poster bed. Most of his gifts from his parents had been opened earlier, but there were others that came afterwards from family members and acquaintances, along with letters that he had to go through and read. Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate frog, unwrapping it and stuffing it into his mouth. It was going to be a long night, but he wasn't complaining. And why would he? Spoiled with so many gifts that he'd have to be up all night if he was going to go through all of them. Draco loved Christmas. 0 Comments

12/10/2020 06:30 PM  Nobody can help me. (for gingernsnap) Nobody can help me. 6. write out an angsty scene between your character and whoever requested this prompt. / requested by gingersnap | 1359100.   Hogwarts; overthrown and under the indirect control of Lord Voldemort. "Malfoy... I know we've had our differences, but things have changed now. I can see what you're doing. I can see that you're trying to change. I've noticed it all. Why keep helping them then? Why not just fully switch sides and help me and Harry aga-" "Help you and Potter? You must be delusional, Weasley." Draco interrupted, a sneer appearing upon his face. His gaze was cold and gray, his stance was stiff. He watched her as she stood before him, ever so brave. Wasn't she afraid that he'd rat her out for sneaking around the castle at night doing god knows what? That he'd get her another long torture session with the Carrow's? Draco couldn't even count the many times he had dragged her down to the dungeons for her punishments. Did she enjoy getting beaten for her disobedience? Why couldn't she just follow the rules? Why did she make him do this? Was the Weasley girl asking for death? She wouldn't be of much help to precious Potter or anyone else for that matter if she were dead. Did the stupid girl ever think of that? Even now, she stood here speaking to him of such nonsensesthat could surely get her into a heap trouble. Trying to convince him to switch sides. Now, she wasn't wrong about the things that she had noticed, but how was she so sure that she was right? What made her think that Malfoy would be so quick to admit his own rule breaking? Previous scars that were still healing could be seen upon her visage, a bruise still lingered below her left eye. No, Draco Malfoy knew better than to choose their side. And he knew very well the dangerous game that he was playing whenever he'd look over certain things purposely. If he were to get caught or raise suspicion towards him, he would end up just like her, or even worse for betraying the Death Eaters, for betraying Lord Voldemort. He was one of them now, the mark that burned dark against the flesh of his inner left forearm was proof of that. There was no going back. No matter how many regrets he had. He had a facade to keep for self-preservation. If he wanted to live, Lord Voldemort's side was the right one to be in. Even if he no longer seemed to agree with what it stood for. "Draco..." Ginny uttered. Draco's brows furrowed, and he felt himself shiver for a moment. The heaviness in which she had said his name in made him falter for a second. Suddenly, his mouth had gone dry, and he found himself licking his lips. This had been the very first time that he had ever heard her speak his first name, and Draco was no longer sneering. Instead, he looked down at her, confusion flashing within his vision now. She was just a young girl, not much younger from his own age. They all were just young kids. Afraid and lost. Just doing what they all thought was best to do to survive. Draco was a proud Death Eater, once upon a time, but that was all before he knew the horrors that came along with the title. The terrors that came with serving someone like Voldemort. The fantasy had all dissolved away into nothingness, Witnessing death could truly change a person's life forever, and before all of this, Draco had never suffered through such losses or witnessed such things. Seeing innocent people be murdered and tortured was definitely not something he was prepared for. The images of Dumbledore and Professor Burbage would never leave his mind. The chaos that he brought upon the school upon letting the Death Eaters in would always lay heavy upon his shoulders and bury him down into the ground below him. After living in such a fantasy world where everything was perfect, where his childish slurs and ignorance hurt nothing more than just feelings... knowing the weight of them now, and understanding the horrid consequences that could come from such hatred and bigotry truly shook him. He was disheveled, cracking under pressure, but he knew better. He couldn't let his family down; loyalty to his own tied him, and fear held him in its grip, suffocating him. "... Please, let me help you. You can change, I know you can. I know you want to. I can see it... just..." Ginny couldn't tell what came over her then, but she reached for his hand and held it within her own. Draco's confusion only seemed to increase. He tensed up and clenched his jaw, his eyes shifting between her pleading gaze and her hand in his. However, Draco didn't seem to pull away from her touch as quickly as he would've any other time. By now he would've spat his venom at her, called her out for the audacity of her even daring to touch him. She was dirty, she was poor. But no words seemed to form within his mind, no poison fell upon his tongue to lash out upon her. For a moment, for a single moment, he welcomed it. It felt warm, it felt safe; brave and courageous, nothing at all like he was - no, he was coward. And then, just as quickly, he snapped out of it. His eyes searched wildly at their surroundings. What if someone had seen them?! What if someone had heard them?! How would it look if he were caught holding hands with the enemy? How could he defend himself against the words that accused him of helping her?! He couldn't... The Carrow's would begin to piece things together, and they'd know... they'd know... and they'd kill them both. Once again, he sneered at her, snatching his hand away and swiftly gripping bruisingly at her upper arm. He gave her a shake and looked down at her with anger, brows knitted, stormy gray eyes as cold as ever. "Have you lost your bloody mind, Weasley?! You're pathetic." He spat in hopes of hurting her, and hopes of angering her enough to never have her come to him in such ways again. In hopes of erasing the thought away from her mind. "Hopeless. I will not join your side, and if you were any smart you'd realize that fighting back is just a waste of time. I swear, Weasley. You must love getting punished." Draco did something between a scoff and a snicker, as he began to drag her along with him, he needed to get rid of her, take her to the dungeons as punishment for her rebellion. He needed to do what he had to do. What he was assigned to do. Unless he wanted to get in trouble along with her. "You're the one who's pathetic, Malfoy!" Ginny fought back, wiggling in his grip. "Fighting back would never be a waste of my time, even if I die trying! At least I wont be a bloody coward like you!" Her kind demeanor had flipped over; her words hit him like daggers, pierced right through him. But, she didn't understand. She couldn't understand how things just weren't that easy. She had her loyalties to those that she loved, and he had his. Even if he did want to help her... even if he was helping in his own discreet and passive way; he could not just switch sides in one fell swoop. It would be reckless, it would be dangerous, and he surely was a coward, as she claimed him to be. Draco Malfoy was much too deep, and he knew that such recklessness could bring him death. Something that he was greatly afraid of. He wouldn't let his guard down, not around her. At least not in the way she wanted him to. He would never be on her side. He was one of them, and she needed to realize that. Ginny eventually quieted down by the time they had reached the dungeons; the silence between them was deafening. Draco brought her to a cell and tossed her inside, and she turned in anger to scowl and glare at him through the rusted bars of the cell door - tears teetered at the edge of her eyes, her cheeks flushed red. Malfoy returned the gesture as he locked her in. He knew that if she had the chance, she'd punch him square in the face. She was holding herself back, but why? It was because of him that she was constantly being put through pain. Or... did she believe that his guilt was enough pain? Slow and growing... it would consume him. Did she see it in his eyes and believed that to be a much greater aching than any strike that her fist could make? "I can't believe I actually thought I could help you." Ginny finally spoke through clenched teeth, breaking the silence between them. She stepped closer to the cell door. Draco shook his head, shifting his eyes downwards for a moment, before looking back up and fixing his hard gaze upon her own. "Nobody can help me, not you, not anyone..." His words were uttered with a cold hopelessness in his tone and before she could say anything to him, Draco had turned and began to walk away. Ginny's angry facial expression had softened again and her brows knitted. She frowned, watching as he turned his back to her, walking away, leaving her here as he had done time and time again. Ginny usually had something smart to yell back at him, but this time, she couldn't find the words to say. Not with the events that unfolded between the two tonight, not with the words that he had left her with. A cry for help that she couldn't seem to answer to - she knew that he'd reject her helping hand, although she knew very well that he needed it, wanted it... yet, Ginny knew that she couldn't save everyone, and at the moment, those who were on the side of good needed her help the most. Perhaps, eventually, she could reach him... maybe... but if she knew anything about him was that he was just as hardheaded and stubborn as she was. If she was being honest, she felt bad for Malfoy. A sigh fell from her lips and that sudden sinking feeling in her stomach began to appear. She knew Draco would be telling the Carrow's that he had found her sneaking about. She knew they'd be here soon, jovial and excited to make her suffer once more. Her hand reached up to grip around one of the bars from the cell door, and she leaned her head against it... and then... the gate rattled... and pushed... and slipped open. Ginny's brows furrowed again, her lips parting a bit in surprise. She stepped back for a moment, unsure if she was really seeing what she was seeing. Ginny stepped forward again and gave the cell door a push, and it swung forward slightly. But... how? Did Draco forget to lock her in... by accident... or on purpose? This wouldn't be the first time he had "accidentally" helped her, although no one ever believed her whenever she would voice her suspicions about it. Would he even tell the Carrow's at all? Something told Ginny that he wasn't going to... Ginny pushed open the cell door enough to slip out, and carefully she made her way out of the dungeons back to the mission in mind before she had bumped into Malfoy. If only he could see the good in him... 0 Comments

11/16/2020 09:47 PM  flowers q/a. flowers grow back even after they are stepped on... ... so will i.   confection queen chose... snapdragon -- favorite mythical creature? My favorite mythical creature? Clearly, I adore unicorns. Isn't that just so obvious? -Perks a brow, smirks.- No. Being serious now, my favorite mythical creature is actually something even more obvious. I like dragons. I'd never want to meet one face to face in any given situation, but they're beautiful fearsome creatures. Also, it's what my name means. vitriol chose... carnation -- does true love exist? Does it? I mean, I might not seem like the romantic type... but I've witnessed my mother and my father's relationship. He might also not seem like the romantic type, but my father truly loves my mother deeply. He'd do anything for her, for his family. Their love is true to me, therefore, yes... I believe it does exist with the right person. Someday, perhaps I'll find the right person to share a love as deep as my parents with. (What do you think, Parkinson? Think it could be you? -Smirk.-) undesirable chose... narcissus -- your best physical feature? Can I pick two? I'm picking two. I believe my best physical features are my eyes and my mouth/lips. Honestly, I'd say all of me, because, well... just look at me -Is full of himself.- But... I suppose I'll play fair this time around. Or whatever. -Dismissive hand wave.- madame bones chose... peony -- do you put more value in honour or truth? Well... isn't this a tough question? To be a truthful person, you must be honourable, and to be honourable you must be truthful. I'd lie if I needed to, and sometimes depending on the situation my loyalties might change. I think you have to value both or none at all... but if I must pick, I suppose I would go with honour, at least in the sense of credit or distinction. I'd want to be an honour to my father and family name someday. fxck off and die chose... tulip -- lucky number? Number six and twenty-two. gingersnap chose... sunflower -- sun or moon? Well, I do like to take long walks at night, in the quiet, just myself and my thoughts, so I'd have to go with the moon. Something about it seems mysterious, cold. The way it can affect the earth when it's too close, and how it can affect people and emotions. I guess you can say it fascinates me a bit. None of that astrology rubbish though. I'm also not too fond of sweating and I get easily sunburned if I stand too long in the summer sun, so there's that too. hermione chose... gladiolus -- who do you look up to most? I hold my father in very high regards for many reasons, and I look up to him for many reasons as well. The way he loves his family, the way he loves his wife. However, I would say that I truly look up to my mother the most. She is strong, she is brave, and I've learned so much from her as I grew up. She makes me feel protected, and would give the entire world to me if I asked for it. Her love for her family is fierce and her heart is warm, despite her public personality and outer appearances. I see her, I know her, and the day I have a family of my own, I can only hope to be as strong and caring and protecting of them as she was of me. daffodil chose... daffodil -- which colour suits you best? Dark colours, but I specifically think forest green, black, deep grays; surprisingly, all white doesn't look too bad on me either. My go-to colour is usually black, however. It's the colour my wardrobe mostly consists of. It's sleek, it's simple, but elegant and everything matches with it. (Sure I'm telling you nothing you don't know already, mother.) 0 Comments

[ This blog post is viewable to friends only ]

Previous12Next

View All Posts