#argentcus

Who’s the someone? I wanna know.

Vibrant red dripped from him and to the ground, knuckles slashed with tiny shards of glass embedded in the wound. Catarina thanked her lucky stars she wasn’t one faint of heart or the sight of it might have made her woozy. 

Her lips set into a displeased purse and the line of her jaw tensed before she grabbed for his uninjured arm, fingers wrapped tight around his bicep as she practically hauled him up the hallway like a child about to receive a berating. “ We’re going to get that cleaned up before you ruin the carpet any further. ” Was her short reply, leading him to the closest bathroom and searching for a wash cloth within the drawers. 

“ Honestly, it’s as if you were sent from HELL itself to make my life impossible. ” Anger clipped her tone but for only one reason alone - as a mask for the concern she was barely concealing, for the worry that flickered in her dark eyes as she looked back at him with what was suppose to be a scowl and presented as more of a grimace. 

“I’ve decided you’re the only one I can trust.”

@argentcus:

( From Umbrella Academy Sentence Starters )

“A decision rather lacking in common sense on your part, don’t you think?”

Even the word itself had his fingers coiling in on themselves, the musculature of his back stiffening until it shrieked with unease. He cast his arms over the fine back of his office sofa, trailing the nervous digits over the fine, polished cherry.

He’d not expected Chang to come to him with concerns. Especially not him. The burden of his last name alone, not to mention the absolute curse of a mark that still shrieked his untrustworthiness from its spot bold and dark upon his inner left arm, didn’t allow him the luxury of a trustworthy aura. They’d been schoolmates, yes, but they certainly hadn’t interacted, nothing beyond the commonplace, Quidditch-fueled spat in the hallway and the tense matches on the Pitch, and in both of the circumstances they were nothing less than one another’s enemies; at least, as much enemy as a schoolchild could have.

And yet. He didn’t miss the determined look in her eye as she peered at him, more imploringly than not, from her spot across the squat and shining coffee table he kept in his work office- St. Mungo’s was austere from within, it smelled of harsh cleaning spells and despair and only in Draco’s suite of medic’s offices had he been able to furnish his surroundings to his tastes- and the look of his guest had the fine hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. He recognized that determination from the Pitch, the same look that preceded her nabbing the Snitch out from under him as she had more times than Draco’s pride would allow him to admit.

He squared his shoulders.

“I’m not sure how you think I can possibly help you.” Draco cast one leg over the opposite knee. He let a hand work its way through the air as he spoke. “I’ve little sway where anything where the Wizarding world is concerned, much as rumors might like to imply otherwise. Even less within the confines of the hospital. And I don’t give out loans without a consult with my personal financier.”

The necessary disclaimers.

Draco stood in a smooth motion, circumventing the sofa, approaching the little bar at the far end of his sorely underutilized desk.

“Coffee?” He called back to her. “Tea? Something- stronger?”

He wasn’t the self-assured boy she remembered from the Quidditch Pitch. That boy walked around with the world at his feet, with the world having to answer to him. This Draco Malfoy walked with the guarded stiffness of someone keenly aware that his entire world could be easily lost if he weren’t careful. Of someone wanting to prove himself to a world that didn’t necessarily want him. 

The nosy presuppositions.

"I’ll take a tea,” she finally replied, coolly, stiffening her own back as she sat straighter. “Green, if you have it. No milk, no sugar, thanks.”

It made sense, she supposed, that he wasn’t the same as she remembered, given all that Time and War had so graciously bestowed them. Last she had seen Malfoy, his face had circulated several front pages of the Daily Prophet before the paper finally tired of dragging his family’s name through the mud, and moved on to news that didn’t dredge out the fallout from the Battle. Cho had nearly forgotten him, quite honestly. Flashes of his scrimmage-swept bleach blond hair and permanent sneer of disdain faded from her more prominent memories, with time. Out of sight and out of mind. 

But then his name had made the rounds again, this time in the context of interesting philanthropic developments that forced her to reintroduce him to her mind and ask to meet with him. Urgently. 

She’d been surprised that he’d agreed, let alone responded to her owl at all. 

“Maybe a bit too ambitious of me. Maybe ‘trust’ isn’t the right word,” she began evenly, agreeing, lips pursing at his questioning of her starter. “Your help, then. I’ve decided you’re the only one who can help.”

Draco Malfoy had had an aristocratic look to him, once upon a time. She remembered thinking how out of place he looked on the Pitch, in dirtied gear and one-size-too-big shoulder pads-- a stark contrast to his thin, pointed face and demeanor of having never worked a chore in his life. Now, though, Cho couldn’t help noting the faint shadows under his eyes and the look within them that spoke of a deeper grit, of a history of forced growing up and growing into maturity, that seemed to exchange his once lofty aura for a rougher, broken-in spirit. 

She folded her hands in her lap and drew her knees together, gaze fixing on him as he wandered toward his desk. She wondered what he-- of all people-- was doing, working at a place like St. Mungo’s. “I can’t say that I care much for what sway you have here,” Cho added, drawing out his word of choice.

A present for @argentcus.

Shiko’s feet rushed around the house. She didn’t know this one, never been here before, and she’d been brought without her nanny, so it was like a dream come true. She ran down yet another hallway, ricocheting from one wall to the other one. Her hands trailed over the wallpaper, she felt it move, and twirl under her fingers. She opened a few doors, the ones that were not locked, and peered inside. There were a lot of rooms in this house.

She took a turn to the right, and halted at once. She’d found her grandpa and her aunt, talking on a desk. Luckily, she remained undiscovered. Slowly, she tiptoed backwards, until she was out of sight. Shiko frowned and looked around, confused as to where she’d turned wrong that made her return to the starting point. The hallways seemed similar enough, she’d have to pay attention.

Oh well, she shrugged, and sprinted back from where she came from. One turn, two turns, th- oh! A staircase! She hopped up the stairs. Careful Shiko, you don’t want to trip and fall. You’d have to go to the hospital then. Her mother’s voice chided in her head. She shuddered. She never wanted to go back to the stupid hospital. She gasped, and took a hand to her mouth, worried she could somehow be discovered for having thought of that word. She looked around, and up and down the staircase, it seemed she was safe.

Iroh said that word, she’d heard him. And he said other ones too. Worse ones, because Joanne always told Shiko not to repeat any of them, but the word with F never, never. If her mom heard her- goodness, said Joanne. She giggled when Joanne said goodness, it was a cute word. But Shiko liked stupid. Because it sounded funny, and you could play with it a lot.

Stupid. Stuuupid. stUpid. S. T. U. P. I. D. S-tupiT.

She stopped at the top of the stairs, and realized she hadn’t counted, so she went back down and then back up. Sixteen steps. It was a lot, but she had twenty four in her house, so it wasn’t that much. The hospital had twenty, and then sixteen, and twenty two, and another twenty two, and then you turned, and then twenty, and then another turn, and then Dr. Turner was there! Shiko never got to walk all those stairs, or hop them. They took the elevator. But sometimes when her mom wanted to walk, and talk on the phone, Joanne would take her up. And she counted the steps anyway.

The top of the stairs looked nice. Like grandpa’s house, that had lots of carpets and all the gold stuff. She skipped down the new hallway. This one had three doors only, and they all looked super fancy. The first one was locked, she pouted. The second one had a bed, and bedroom stuff. So boring. She skipped to the third one. It was the coolest room ever!

Shiko looked around the hall, and peered into the room to see no-one was watching, and entered, carefully clicking the door behind her. She was amazed, this room was filled with books! So many of them! And there were a couch, and another couch, and a desk- the desk had a computer! She ran to it, and inspected the screen. It looked like her mom’s. She couldn’t touch that one. Iroh’s either, until he put on some secret code thing. He had secrets in it. She liked playing in the Penguin Club, she didn’t care of Iroh’s secrets.

Her finger moved over the pad, she’d found music, so she put it to play. Play was the button with the sleepy triangle, Iroh taught her that. Shiko bounced around the room to the music, looking at the books, and caressing them. There was one that had the letters all in sparkly blue, and another one all in gold. A lot had letters in gold. There were some tiny ones. Baby books! She picked up one and hugged it, and took it to bounce with her.

The music stopped. “What do you think you’re doing up here, little pest?” Shiko froze on the spot, and turned around scared, she’d been caught.

Azula didn’t care to stop the bothered purse of her lips, nor the face towards the barista; honestly she couldn’t care for anything that was happening today, or the past couple of weeks, with her therapist.

She even felt like fighting his suggestion of the chair, except she had a limit on how much of a child she allowed herself to be while outside. And he knew it, of course he did, and that’s why he always found ways to get her surrounded by people, so that she couldn’t throttle him like she felt like doing.

“I can’t remember where I left off.” She said, eyeing her fingernails uninterestedly, lying with no care for a reprimand. Her eyes travelled to the lighting features on the wall behind him, rolling her eyes at how ordinary all of it was, water pipes and rustic wood, and could it get more hipster than this? Ugh, disgusting.

@argentcus​, continued from here: X

anonymous asked:

(From cursed-and-chosen:) "I heard it's your birthday, so..." Harry held out a wrapped package. Inside was a sports cloak signed by a player of what Harry assumed had to be Malfoy's favorite Quidditch team. Getting his hands on it so easily had been one of the benefits of having defeated Voldemort to make up for the many disadvantages. He figured it was only appropriate to share some of said benefits with the person who had made his victory possible in the first place. "Happy birthday, Malfoy!"

“—What in Merlin’s name.”

Narrowed eyes evaluated the package Potter had so unceremoniously dropped upon his table. Fingers twitched, both wanting to pull it closer and press it away. It was haphazardly wrapped—perhaps of Potter’s own handiwork, before searching the man’s eyes for clues.

Nothing, and the gathering interest of the crowds in the St. Mungo’s cafeteria certainly didn’t help matters, the curious looks from the Healers and even—Draco suppressed a groan—one of his own patients. Of course Potter would elect now of all times to administer such aphilanthropy.

“What is it?” Draco asked, the package decidedly unmoved where it sat beside his salad. “Don’t tell me you hunted me down all the way here to give me a present, Potter.”

It had been a while since Harry had last been impressed by Malfoy's antics and his attempts at antagonizing him and making him look like a starry-eyed idiot whenever he was trying to be nice to him. At times, he still didn't quite understand just why such behavior could be necessary in the first place, and pride alone didn't serve as an adequate explanation. Besides, he had come too far to back down now – hunting him down and finding him at his workplace hadn't exactly been an easy feat – and Harry liked challenges far too much to give up on this one.

@argentcusprincess bride starters || accepting

It wasn’t all too often (and she was glad to note it happening more frequently), but on the odd occasion it was as if he seemed to have forgotten himself. Forgotten the burden he’d carried on his back as a teenager, the stresses pushed on him by adults when he was nothing but a child. It seemed to her that Draco would, for a second, get caught up and for a beat that strain would leave his face, scowl melting away and the bored demeanour he favoured not even enough to hide his emotions. 

Astoria liked seeing him like that. It made her SMILE. 

And sometimes he caught her.

She knew she probably looked MAD; grinning at him for no discernible reason like she had gone and lost her marbles. If anything he looked confused by the jovial shift in her mood. 

“I’ll indulge you this time, Malfoy.”

[ @argentcus

My Opinion on;

Character in general: (This is another copy pasta :P) I used to dislike Draco for a long time thanks to JK Rowling’s *cough*wonderful way of treating characters who are not morally pristine *cough*, but thanks to some wonderful RPers (you included), I’ve been warming up to him more and more and by now, I consider him a tertiary-to-secondary fave of mine :) How they play them: I don’t even have words to describe how much I love your darker, more mature take on Draco. He’s so wonderfully intelligent and three-dimensional and complex he could easily be my second primary HP fave next to Tom Riddle because GOD, does your Draco outshine both canon versions of this character in every way possible O.O Just... please never stop writing Draco, okay?? O.OThe Mun: You’re one of the nicest people I’ve met in this fandom and talking and plotting with you has always been a complete and utter delight <3

Do I:

RP with them: Yesss!! And I couldn’t be more excited about our three threads O.OWant to RP with them: Always. Seriously, if you have any plot idea you’d like to explore, throw it at me hard - doesn’t matter if it knocks me off my feet :P

What is my;

Overall Opinion: I cannot even describe how much Harry and I adore this muse and mun O.O That and your writing is so incredibly vivid and beautiful I couldn’t be more in love with it either <3 Seriously, absolutely everyone who reads this should go and follow this amazing person <3