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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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edgar:

“ of course. i’m not going to kowtow to burke as if i’m desperate for every word out of his mouth, “ edgar bristles, rolling his eyes. “ he knows he should play ball or i’ll show up every damn day on his doorstep. “

though thabit raises a good point, edgar will most likely need burke’s help to solve this case. he shouldn’t go destroying a bridge that they might need one day, especially one as useful as burke’s clientele information. “ how about we come back tomorrow, you try him? i should take a step back from the case anyway. i’m taking it home with me. “

he sighed. nodding, strolling off in the direction of a pub they tended to frequent after a long day. “ i’ll pick but i want the next pick too. i’ve read about this new place opening a few towns over, a muggle spot. “

the place might be out of thabit’s comfort zone but edgar had read the name of the owner. a familiar name. edgar wanted to just stop by and check. he doubted they’d even see the real reason for going.

“ i’ll write amelia about it too, see if she’d want to tag along. i think we could use some air away from the office, all three of us. “

he smiled at thabit, a reassuring and genuine smile, mood brightened at the thought of escaping all the darkness for a few hours.

he rolls his eyes as he falls into step beside the other man, a familiar rhythm to the movement that settles his constantly BUZZING nerves down for a moment. “begging,” he lifts a hand, palm up, as if weighing the word against it, “or demanding.” the other hand, lifted, palm up, weighing the two against one another for a moment. “have you perhaps not thought of a THIRD CHOICE ? or do you always operate between two extremes?” really, edgar’s stubbornness was near legendary. it was an aspect thabit both respected and detested in his partner, as he well knows they share this particular trait.

he supposed there is merit to the heedless stubbornness of edgar’s methods. perhaps. and the thought of good old Burke losing his slick composure enough to kick the other man out is one he finds particularly amusing, enough that the corners of his mouth lift, unguarded, for a moment as they stroll in a familiar direction. he sniffs. “is that greed i smell? won’t even wait your turn now?”

the mention of amelia is not enough to make him stumble, but that’s a near thing. the teasing tilt to his lips is certainly gone now, his brows drawing together irritably. “have you really got to invite your sister along every time?”

#thabit being a Whole Brat ?? it's more likely than u think #( para. )#( para: edgar )#also lmao he and amelia Bicker tm like children Always so good luck edd #EDIT: i fixed the format idk what the fuck happened to it wtf ????

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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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it's a good thing you never feared flames because suddenly you're burning alive

#( how dare u do this to me ??? im sending u hcs rn Get Ready )#we are υnυѕυal and тragιc and alιve | andromeda #( quote. )

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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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@rebelleuse

#we are υnυѕυal and тragιc and alιve | andromeda #do i already have a tag for them ?? why yes. yes i do.#( quote. )

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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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his eyes track the hit witch with what could almost be called boredom. annoyance. a sense of time being wasted as the witch had her fun, the crook’s eyes looking past her, towards him, pleading. thabit is unmoved. there is use, after all, in this idle time spent awaiting the witch’s violence to play itself out -- there are questions this man must answer, and playtime with carrow is known to loosen tongues and wills just the same.

eyes half lidded, head cants to the side as he awaits her approach, as her question is posed, smile sharp and cold and violent. he lets the pause hang in the air. he hums. something shifts in his expression, something amused. “as admirable as i find your... passion,” he says, drawn out and slow, “we’d like him alive at headquarters.” pause. deliberate, eyebrows lifting as his gaze met hers squarely. “alive and coherent, carrow.”

i. date, april 1979. ii. location, knockturn alley.

high risk ? how utterly laughable . crook had practically doubled over at the sight of her . knee presses into unforgiving concrete , jagged expanse digging into bone . fingers , pristine and clean , curl into collar of felon’s ragged coat . free hand administers cracking blows to already roughened visage , her knuckles are bloodied and RAW . red sputters from thin , cracked lips . she revels in the sight . “ we take law breaking very seriously . ” she sneers viciously . corrupt is she , onslaught hidden behind position of authority . alecto rises from knelt position , aphotic gaze flickering to corner of alley where another had made themselves visible . imbrued hand brushes locks away from her face , staining side visage with a striking crimson . “ help .. ” felon sputters from ground , grisly appearance a telling sign of exactly what she’s doing . with a horrifying calm , the heel of her boot meets his visage , the cracking of what she can only assume to be his nose echoes almost serenely . femme stalks forward nonchalantly , closing distance between her and the other . full stop , lips slowly upturn into a chilling smile . “ can i help you ? ”

#( para. )#( para: alecto )#( lmaooo i love them already wth ??? )#violence tw

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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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edgar:

the man tries to let his frustration dissipate into the evening air, let it flow out of his fingertips so that he wasn’t holding in this aggression and using it against thabit. it isn’t the younger man’s fault that burke was as talkative as a brick wall, and edgar doesn’t want to isolate his partner- not in times like this, not when thabit could very well be the reason edgar still breathes one day.

“ leave it for now. best to not go strolling in there demanding answers when i’ve already wound him up. “

edgar sighs, kicks at the ground in one last little bout of frustration before pushing his glasses back up along his nose.

“ i fancy a drink now, how bout you, thabit? if you promise to not talk about our cases i’ll even buy the round. “

edgar’s lips lift into a smile, he doubts that there’s any way they’ll be able to go the rest of the evening without a single word of work being spoken. if anything, it’ll probably end up with edgar pulling at his hair- literally.

thabit was much like burke in the essence that sometimes their conversations felt like he was speaking with a brick wall, except that this particular brick wall never seemed to head edgar’s advice and very often dragged edgar along for what was sure to be a slew of wrong turns that eventually led to something that solved the case; but only after nearly turning edgar’s full head into a mop of white.

“demanding?” an eyebrow lifts, head tilts slightly to the side as half lidded eyes shift along the other man’s countenance, still searching for deceit, for signs edgar might know more than he let on. “is that what you did?” a soft sigh that speaks volumes. edgar remains as deceit-less as ever. “no wonder you scare off all the fish.”

perhaps it is unwise of him to keep such secrets from his partner, who might very well be the only thing standing between him and certain death -- but secrets were how he operated, a part of him as surely as green and silver will always remain so, and the times they live in could hardly afford them any leniency.

his head tilts to the side slightly, he hums. there is no notable change in his expression, but the teasing tone to his countenance does not fade. “i do suddenly find myself with nothing to do.” he says, eyebrows lifted as he regards the other man. “i can promise.” he says, deliberate, because that’s all he can do and they’re both fully aware of that. thabit could be described as, perhaps, obsessive about his work, but he knows that edgar is no better -- if less willing to take risks than him, at times.

not the plans he’d had for the night, though he finds himself hard pressed to complain. he nods towards the road, hand stretched out for edgar to lead the way. “your turn to pick the place.”

#( sidbskjlc im???? sorry this is late oops. but also eiufbe i Die i love these dorks so much wtf )#( para. )#( para: edgar )

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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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Xavier Dolan ©Sofia Sanchez and Mauro Mongiello // Numero

#wear yoυr мιnd lιĸe a crown | visage #jdkskjdj cavier dolan fjdakksjd

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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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“There’s something soft in me— / we killed it and it’s rotting.”

— Cassandra de Alba, from “A Barbie Dream House But All the Dolls Are Kitchen Knives,” published in Underblong (via lifeinpoetry)

#ι aм мore тнan one тнιng; and noт all тнeѕe тнιngѕ are good | thabit.#( quote. )

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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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alcohol is not a luxury with which thabit often indulged -- he is not a particularly indulgent person, keeping a lid on whims and impulses best not followed through with, and the idea that his decision-making capacities would be hampered is not one he is terribly impressed with.

and yet. 24 hours of unending work behind him, within the creaky walls of an old pub, a barely touched tumbler of whiskey rests between his fingers. perhaps it is a sign of stress, that he would allow himself to spend such a long time merely seated upon a wooden chair as the minutes tick by. it is certainly a sign of stress, that he does not anticipate the approaching figure until his drink is snatched from his loose grip.

he casts his gaze upon the thief. his eyes squint in clear annoyance. “you are completely unendearing.” he says, tone flat and without infliction. “i hope you know that.” he makes no move to retrieve the glass, however. his eyes take in the state the younger man is in and his jaw ticks in displeasure, hand reaching for his wand as he speaks. “did you perhaps forget that you’re a wizard,” he waves his wand to cast a drying spell, and then a heating charm, “tracking mud and sopping wet like a stray?”

DATE & TIME: APRIL 1979, 7PM. LOCATION: ???

it sounded like heaven itself was breaking a p a r t ; that celestial gash of thunder & lightning that screamed through the gray london sky. yet serenely, sirius black waded through the rain ; COLDER THAN DEATH, but feeling alive —— the storm being his element, the tempest being his kin, the downpour washing away every ounce of his perceived sin. by the time he’d arrived at his destination, the lion was soaked down to the bone —— but the simper that has blossomed upon his cold lips made it apparent that this bothered him none too terribly. “ WHISKY, neat. ” —— it’s his good mood drink.

#lmao listen......... i kno we have another thread more or less but i. couldn't not ok ???#lmk if u want anything changed !!#( para. )#( para: sirius )#also im........... i feel the need to apologize for my difficult child he is TRYING i PROMISE

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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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burke and thabit have an understanding.

of a sort.

it’s the same kind of give-and-take, impersonal and business-like push and pull connections he’d developed first as a necessity in Slytherin, and then more because it was the only way he knew how to do things, later. some lessons Slytherin had taught him he’d grown with, like a broken bone that never quite put itself together right over time. but the never-ending, ever-shifting trade of information in the snakes’ den had prepared him better than anything for what he did now, as the world that lay beyond the walls of hogwarts played to the same rules his dear old house did: everything is a trade. give, and receive.

burke needs information. thabit needs information. they chat. they let things slip.

he’d long since coaxed any guilt he felt over this out of his system. in the end, no information he gives is particularly detrimental to anyone’s life. and the tips he needs would help many. he tries, however, not to rely on this particular, less than scrupulous connection -- burke had been a snake for longer than thabit. this is a fact he carefully does not forget.

the ease with which he slips through the shadows of this rotten space should be alarming. it is not. at least, not to him, and not for some time now -- the figure loitering before the shop, banked by the light of a lamp so as to be a mere silhouette, makes him slow his steps down carefully. he turns his face deliberately to the side so as not to draw their gaze, but the figure speaks, and it is a voice he’d known for years.

of all the places to run into edgar.

“is that so.” he says, carefully, voice without infliction as he steps close enough to see the other man. his eyes flicker towards the shops’ entrance, and back towards his coworker, as he tries to discern what he might be doing here. for a moment, he misreads edgar’s expression as disappointment -- does he know? how could he possibly -- but the frustration in edgar’s face makes itself clear, and thabit breathes out, slowly, lets the hammering of his heart slow down as he glances again towards the wooden door of the shop. “i don’t suppose you’ve left him in a pleasant enough mood for a chat?” he prods, with the flat tone of sarcasm he often opted for, a hint of teasing in his features as he shifts, head cants to the side, brows pinched the slightest touch. “or should i best leave him for now?”

date & time | april, 1979. exactly 7:23 pm. location | knockturn alley, outside borgin and burkes status | open to all

there was always something unsettling about the shadows that seemed to have eyes, tracking edgar’s every move, it seeped into his bones ( ha, still funny ). the eyes could tell an outsider walked among them, a man not entrenched in the dark arts outside of his career. a career that led him into trying to get answers out of caractacus burke who seemed to find a way to talk his way out of any questions edgar asked - working his way into loops that left the detective gripping his notepad out of frustration, knuckles turning white.

without evidence that burke was linked to the disturbing blood soaked, curse ridden deck of cards they had found at a crime scene, edgar was only able to prod the beast for so long before the man demanded that the detective leave the premise. he had left, promising to be back in the morning with documentation.

now, the wind seemed to grow colder, nipping at the back of his neck. pulling his coat closer against his body did little to comfort the man as he scribbled down a few notes about burke’s body language- a few items that seemed sketchy to the detective that would need further probing into when it wasn’t so late into the evening.

body tensed, notepad finally tucked away, his eyes swept the area and landed on someone else approaching. cursed his eyesight for not being able to immediately determine who the stranger was.

“ good evening, unfortunately mr burke has closed up for the evening. i can name a few more reputable stores that can help you".

#( this got too long oops )#( pls dw about matching >>'' )#( para: edgar )#( para. )

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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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wanted plots!! bc im lame and like to establish everything always. but also this gon get a bit rambly and messy af sozz

first of all @ fellow aurors pls............ come plot with this awkward asshole he is the bossiest bitch in the room ok ur muse prolly doesn’t like him v much it’ll be lots of verbal sparring and snark and fun stuff. First Thing To Know about Thabit Colton is that he is Always Right. ok. and if he’s not it won’t be fun for anyone he will make sure of it!! he’s protective af and paranoid af and lives on coffee + bitterness tbh.

his work is his literal life so if u need like. co-workers or rivals or superiors or (akjslaljsk) mentors pls lmk i will Pounce.

catch him tryin to show he cares lmao.......................... it’s a train wreck istg.

ALSO!! exes. bc ofc i need those. also he’s emotionally constipated already so like it’ll be fun.

friends!! bc otherwise whats the point amirite. whether fellow avid readers or ppl he argues with a lot and ‘totally doesn’t like’ who he thinks are ‘just a nuisance’ bc *shrug emoji*

that’s all i can think of atm but if u have any more ideas lmk!! we can brainstorm stuff

#ooc #aksjljkaj #wanted plots

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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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lmaooo. i’m so late fml aslkjksldk OKAY HI HELLO i’m snow and i’ll be playing the grumpiest grouchiest detective with a case of emotional constipation bc slytherin capricorns amirite. i’ll post the rest of my app below the cut and dive into the intro tag and message y’all for plots <33

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ THABIT COLTON ] ! the muggles say he holds resemblance to [ XAVIER DOLAN ]. the [ 26 ] year old [ AGENDER ] was [ FOCUSED & AMBITIOUS ] before the war, but has now become [ PARANOID & PESSIMISTIC ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of a [ DETECTIVE AT THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT, AURORS’ OFFICE, INVESTIGATIONS DIVISION. ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ HALF-BLOOD ] is actually [ NEUTRAL ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet. ( snow, 21, gmt+3, she/her. )

HEADCANONS

⁂ name analysis :

Thabit Colton.

Thabit -- a name that fit him like a bell, like a crown, like a shackle. Fixed, still, unchanging. For someone whose sights are ever set upwards, whose aspirations are always bigger, bigger, bigger, who’s always looking for ways to step up the proverbial ladder and take the prize set atop, Thabit’s stubborn pride and unmoving will have kept him from change. Kept him from moving, from changing, from budging -- he is a prodigy, that is true, a clever mind scarcely seen in this day and age, catching onto meanings and turning variables about and reaching conclusions many would flounder at for hours, but his thick skull and rooted pride have kept him from truly evolving, as a person, despite his many achievements and accomplishments in his field of work.

Colton -- A clearly british name that flows crookedly juxtapositioned with his first: clunky, he feels, when introducing his full name, even now as he’s reached his twenty-seventh year of life. Thabit Colton, half arabian and half british and it feels, to him, as though he is constantly in a battle with identity, as though he is always half something and half not, introducing himself as Colton with the professional air his occupation requires, introducing himself as Thabit when the air is not tense, when he is able to breath long and quiet and not pull his muscles so tautly all the time. Despite this, he is very fond of the culture his mother’s side of the family brings, perhaps more so than he was supposed to be -- the black and white movies she liked to watch so much, the arabian music she played in the background as she relaxed with a glass of wine at the end of a long day, the rice and grape leaves she’d prepared them when they were younger, the trips back to egypt they went on whenever they’d get the chance. it was all a part of him growing up, and he had loved every bit of it. Hesitantly, as though he was stealing sweets from a hidden jar that was not meant for him, but he loved it nonetheless.

⁂ gender and pronouns :

Thabit is agender, though he is yet unaware of this fact. Thus far he/him are the only pronouns he’d considered for himself and it’d be much too long before he would even begin to toy with other options. The concept of ‘gender’ had always been lost on him, like a dark void he can never see beyond but can only speculate at -- he knew the anatomy and the biology of gender, but what that meant for how people “should” act and interact with one another and how it affects the relationships of people had always been a mystery to him. He is frequently irritated by this, as he is always adamant in knowing things, but social constructs and behavior have never set well with him and he had always found it difficult to relate to his binary peers.

⁂ sexuality :

Thabit is demisexual, panromantic. The only times he had ever felt sexual attraction, it was towards someone who he’d developed an emotional attachment to beforehand, and even then his desire for sex had been inconsistent. He is not a particularly romantic individual and has an aversion of intimate relationships of any kind, growing distrustful of affectionate gestures that come from anyone not within his immediate family -- gender is not a factor in how he chooses romantic partners, however.

⁂ blood status :

halfblood. His mother is a muggleborn witch of egyptian heritage, his father is a white british wizard born to a pureblood family. Being a halfblood might’ve been easier on his brother, surrounded as he was with yellows and blacks, but Slytherin provided little room for self acceptance -- Thabit is at once proud of his halfblood status and ashamed of it. He knows his blood has no bearing on his skills and talents and he wastes no opportunity proving this to all those around him. he is rather attached to the culture his mother’s side of the family brings, the tv and the radio and the grounded, solid presence of unmoving photographs. He will not, however, discuss his blood status with anyone, it remaining a sensitive topic he continues to avoid, and will carefully not disclose his parentage to strangers upon their first meeting. or their second. or their third. he’d probably never mention it until you do in all honesty.

⁂ sorting :

Slytherin. This had proven itself to be difficult due to his halfblood status, made more so by his older brother’s placement in hufflepuff, but Thabit’s stubborn pride and relentless ambition would not steer him any other direction -- the Hat’s call did not linger, it’s decision made in mere seconds and leaving the eleven year old reeling upon the stool. he’d prepared so completely to be placed in ravenclaw. It had taken time for him to grow proud of his placement in Slytherin, but the first few weeks have been difficult, to say the least.

⁂ allegiance :

Neutral. Thabit’s views align more alongside the order’s, but his self-preservation and the dangers being an explicit part of this war posed on not only himself, but his family as well, is enough to keep him standing rigidly to the side of the conflict -- despite his line of work throwing him too close to the fire, he still holds fast to the state of neutrality and keeps his co workers at a distance. he is unsure how many of them are a part of this war, and less sure which part they would be on.

⁂ birthdate & zodiac :

December 31st, 1953. Thabit is the least spiritually inclined individual one would find and he will deny this to his dying breath, but the zodiac sign his birth falls under is as accurate as a sign could ever be --- capricorn, sign of the goat. Ambitious, and disciplined, and reserved. Pessimistic, practical, obsessive. These are traits that are so deeply ingrained in him it would be impossible for him to have been born under any other sign.

⁂ occupation :

Detective at the department of Magical Law Enforcement, Aurors’ Office, Investigations Division.

Perhaps there’d been traces of fancy yet to be found in 17-year-old Thabit’s mind, and perhaps the secret wish to be admired and looked up to as more than merely a half-blood Slytherin with a sharp wit and sharp tongue, the secret desire to be liked and to be regarded as something of a heroic figure, is part of what’s led him to where he is now. He’d entered the auror training program at the age of 18, eyes sharp with focus and jaw clenched against rising nerves. He graduated in two years, becoming an official auror at the age of 20, but it wasn’t long into his work on the field before he was moved to the department of investigation, his superior finding his skills better put to use elsewhere.

To say he is hardworking would be a gross understatement -- workaholic, married to the job, obsessed with the success of his career. He puts all his effort and passion into his work and has built his life surrounding it, has gained himself a reputation for being relentless and focused in his pursuits, had thrived on the respect this had garnered him among his colleagues -- he remains an unpleasant individual, however, and while he is respected for his skills and accomplishments he is hardly liked. Not that it matters to him, anyway.

AESTHETIC

Long robes that swing at the ankles; long nights bent over scrolls and books and names; a clever cat padding down in the dark; ink stained fingers; crooked glasses; cups of coffee; a tightrope, a balancing act, a careful way your breath is held; there is no place for you to be something whole; tongue swollen with cruelty and words that only know how to cut; pride is pride is pride is pride -- won’t you ever say you’re sorry? Won’t you see the love there is within you, the love you don’t know how to give? Clever, clever, but there is more to life than you might think.

#noc.intro #ι aм мore тнan one тнιng; and noт all тнeѕe тнιngѕ are good | thabit.

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fracturcs-blog · 6 years

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