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For those of you who are interested, check out my new OC multimuse blog. https://legiicn.tumblr.com/
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Harry Nilsson’s song, “You’re Breaking My Heart”, has officially become my theme song. If you guys have yet to check it out, DO IT!!!
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This is a Michael Wincott appreciation post
First saw him and fell in love with him in The Crow = badass, sinister, darkly charismatic villain.
Saw The Count of Monte Cristo and Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves = villains again, although minor. So I was thinking, “Hm, he must play a lot of bad guys, that seems to be his thing.”
Then I saw Basquiat.
Extremely flamboyant gay guy.
W…WHAT.
After I got over the initial shock, I realized, he was doing it fantastically. He was OWNING it.
The man’s pretty talented! I mean, that was a seamless transition from
“Say hello to the last fella who wouldn’t cooperate with me.”
to
“Suck my pussy, you star!”
He’s amazing.
Anyway, this is getting long, so I’ll stop rambling now.
Basically, I am in love with Michael Wincott.
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oflunarcy:
Invasive diligence intercepts the moonlight’s gaze, her rose tinted lips canvasing the illustration that manifested within her recent manuscript. A single feather dipped in ink lingers on as cursive words are written formally in exchange. At first, dirty blonde brows furrows slightly in confusion. Her fingers tapping onto the table before a sudden breakthrough is made. Her expression transforming merrily as the light of motivation manifest brightly within silver hues. Placing the quill onto the brims of her parchment, her attention shifts naturally alongside. Her whimsical hymn can only be drowned away before slender fingers reaches onto her glass. Her favorite drink traveling onto her cherry tongue as she gently took a sip. For a moment, it was clear that she was perfectly in tune with the concept of her own world; a habit, which has long since existed during her days at school.
And yet, despite all proclamation, her porcelain visage is lifted in response. ❝ —hm? ❞ Dreamlike her voice remains, before an optical exchange was formally made. His darken hues mirroring her own lukewarm orbs. Despite the fact that she has not seen him for so many years, there was no mistaking that she knew who he was. After all, even if they had not been in the same year, they still went to the same school— not to mention, given their prior affiliation… she did, technically stayed at his manor once upon a time. ❝Oh, hello! It has been quite some time, Draco Malfoy. ❞
Although her tone had been polite, there was no denying the familiar exchange that radiated within her visage. A strange women, she was, to have greet him as if they had been old friends– when in reality, they were nothing of the sort. ❝Are you enjoying yourself this evening? If you haven’t had dessert yet, I do recommend the cheesecake. It is absolutely delicious. ❞
“Oh, yes, this evening is most agreeable. You see, it’s my son’s anniversary and we came here because it is his favorite restaurant. A family tradition of sorts.” (Only now it’s just him and Scorpius who are celebrating, since Astoria is long gone.)
She is just as ethereal and kind as Draco remembers her, just as delicate and unassuming... If only the blond would have been able to see behind the gossip of others back in their school days. But no, he realizes, those were times when he was still blissfully oblivious and blind to any decent valor besides those vile ones inherited by birth. There wouldn’t have been a hope in hell that the then adolescent wizard befriended Luna. Merely because he had been nothing but a spoiled, rotten and repulsive boy, foolish in his pride and crooked beliefs.
“It so happens that the cheesecake is Scorpius’s favorite dessert. I rarely eat sweets, but I believe it is high time I tried it for a change.” chuckles the blond, grey eyes regarding his interlocutor with open gentleness. His tone is soft, almost timid, though Draco had never been known for a particularly loud or powerful timbre.
“I am glad to see you again, Luna...You look well.” the compliment, although genuine, sounds week and meaningless. As if there are so many things the blond wishes to say, but doubts she would want to listen, doubts she might even find it bearable to be in his presence.
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kiantrev:
The second wizarding war was left with countless casualties, leaving children parentless and alone in the world. Kieran grew up reading about the wars, the head master of the orphanage he grew up in told him that he should not forget his ancestry just because he is a squib. The young man lived in both the magical and non-magical worlds, finding similarities in fear, greed, and evil. But he also found love and compassion, and he knew then that all he wanted to do is to help the children in need.
Today was any other rare visit from funders. Moghoun, the head master, knew many people. People with kind hearts and intentions, who cared for the children and did all they could in contributing. The guest today is affliated with the Malfoy family, a name of a pure blood family that was stained with dark magic and Death Eaters. Which shook Kieran to the core at first, but with Moghoun’s words of assurance, the caretaker puts his trust in the old wizard, hoping that the family has truly changed their ways since the last horrible war.
Gifts came in piles and boxes, and the children were ecstatic. The older kids went to books, the younger ones to the fancy toys they could only dream of owner before. There are a few journalists who came, only three, specifically, to document the generous charity- Moghoun wanted to avoid the gossip newsreels talk bad about their funder, and the children never liked it when they were asked too many questions.
The caretaker watches fondly as the children played with their toys, the few who has begun their magical schooling showing off the simple spells they’ve learned. Tomas, their youngest toddler, sat in Kieran’s arms comfortably as he coos at the puffskein plush in his hands. “Thank you, mister Malfoy, for your contribution. It’s very kind of you,” the caretaker offers the weary-looking man a smile. “It’s not always that the children gets such gifts.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” he retorts, hand waving in a dismissive gesture. “I have enough time and resources on my hands so as to be able to help out whenever I can.” There is no need for false modesty, nor foolish parading of his riches. There had been almost twenty years since Draco had surmised that honesty is the preferable path in one’s life: To never lie to himself and to try avoiding the temptation of misleading others. Naturally, drawing such a conclusion had required wisdom, which the blond gained only after realizing that his existence had been built on lies and vile ideologies, and that, as a child, he had never had any choice but to believe them and remain locked in the golden cage of an imperfect yet polished upbringing.
“I am glad they are enjoying my gifts. I have discussed with the director and we both agreed that a monthly donation would be more than welcome for the orphanage. Rest assured, the money will keep coming for as long as I can afford it.” His voice is silken, tone casual and grey gaze almost apathetic. There is no glorification of his deeds in Draco’s attitude, if only because he knows this is the best he could do for these children, sons and grandsons of wizards fallen during the War. A war his family helped turn into gruesome and bloodied reality.
“Have you been working here for a long time, mister.....” The blond’s speech is cut short out of sheer ignorance: He has no idea what the other’s name is.
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narcissamilfoy:
“It was made by French elves,” Narcissa raised her glass and produced a charming smile, “they only know how to make the finest wine. They aren’t good at much else.” She held the glass to her lips and sipped some of the liquid down her throat.
Sensing the tension between her son and husband, Narcissa’s cheeks flushed slightly. She made light conversation with Scorpius. Her voice was soft and gentle with the baby of their family; as she particularly adored Scorpius, and handled him with even greater care since Astoria died.
“I must admit, I am very excited for the two of you to open your gifts tonight. I spent all month looking for the perfect gifts for my favorite boys,” If anything, Narcissa was a mother before anything else, and she had a naturally charming motherly instinct to her that only appeared when Draco and Scorpius were present.
“Oh– and Draco, I must ask if you would like to spend another day or two at the Manor? Your father and I were planning on taking a trip up North where there’s real snow. I’m sure Scorpius would like to come…?” She side glanced at SWcorpius and gave him a little wink.
He could refuse...Would do so, if not for the matching pleading gazes thrown his way from both Narcissa and Scorpius. Deadly combination, really, since Draco had never been able to deny these two anything, especially if it meant leaving them utterly disappointed. Therefore, with a gentle shake of his head and a soft smile that soon erupts into quiet chuckles, the blond agrees.
“Of course, mother. You know I can never find it in me to deny indulging your requests.” And even as his velvety voice betrays mild exasperation, Draco’s grey eyes speak of nothing but love and tenderness. He loves them both, what more is there to say. (In fact, the wizard is quite certain he does love Lucius as well, with all the man’s rottenness and foolish price. Not that he would openly admit it to anyone.)
“As for the gift exchange...I myself cannot wait. We too brought presents, and this year, it was Scorpius who chose them. In fact, I find it remarkable that the boy has been able to restrain himself so well until now.” The teasing is gentle, barely there. Nonetheless, his son throws a grimace his way, gesture counteracted by Draco throwing a wink his way.
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the-defected-one:
Regulus paid close attention to Draco’s expression both as he inspected the gift and afterward, when he seemed to be thinking of his next response. There was something of tension in them that Regulus could not place, but such was the nature of his observations. He was almost always the quiet man in the background; although he interacted very little, he heard everything. He saw everything. And, over time, he had learned to piece it together.
The librarian knew that Scorpius belonged to his cousin but he’d thought at least that he’d been mentioned. It was true that he and the boy shared private conversations while at school but Regulus had understood that the child and his father were close…
He realized, then, that his offering might have come off as a bit strange. Did Draco even know where Regulus worked?
“I spend the school year tending to the Hogwarts library–” he explained, idly twisting his teacup to and fro in his fingertips, “I interact with most students who will listen, but I’ve spent a particularly long time speaking with Scorpius and several of his friends.” Mostly the Slytherin students, those who felt outcast in their own school-year home.
“He speaks exceedingly highly of you.” And apparently didn’t speak much about Regulus at all!
Thanking Regulus for this little clarification of how he and Scorpius have met, Draco cannot help but sense the imminent danger of his cousin’s impending displeasure. And trying to delicately avoid a situation which might later cause tension between his son and the other, Draco interjects soothingly. “Oh, you will soon find that my son is an odd duck: He has a friend he deeply cares for, Albus Potter...And not long ago, me and his father briefly agreed that the boys needn’t see each other again. And although this crisis has been solved quite soon, I must admit that Scorpius became more secretive in regards with to companions from that moment on. Therefore, I don’t doubt for one moment that he finds you as engaging and pleasant as I do, but I do empathize with the reason why he has chosen to keep your identity hidden from me.”
That being said, Draco sips from his cup of tea, a pleasant and reassuring smile blossoming in the corners of his lips. Grey eyes fixated on Regulus, he nods towards the priceless artifacts he has just been gifted, gratitude evident upon his composure. “Thank you once again for the books, cousin. I will treasure them even more, now that I know they come from Hogwarts: I am quite certain they will bring back old and treasured memories from my days studying at the castle.”
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anobscurial:
The only thing that Credence knew was that he was no longer allowed to remain within America. It did not matter that New York was the only home that he knew – even with Mary Lou and the Second Salmers tainting every part of that entirely. He hadn’t been able to process the fact until he was piled onto a boat, aurors from MACUSA at both elbows to make sure that he wouldn’t do something stupid like try and get away. As though Credence would be able to – where would he go? Not a family member or friend to be known. Not a cent to his name. The Barebones were poor as an understatement, no matter how many children Mary Lou fed from the streets in exchange for getting the name of the church out and in the open.
So, he was taken to England. The Ministry of Magic decided his fate: he was to stay at St Mungo’s, out of the way of public eyes and away from near enough any civilians that he could possibly come into contact with, until there was someone that volunteered to allow him into their care. Credence never expected to see the light of day again, if he were entirely honest. Whilst he did have the access to roam St Mungo’s, Credence had decided against it. There was too much risk, even with trained staff everywhere. He was too much of a risk. There were too many people. Too many of them vulnerable. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing that he had taken another night – he could barely do so as it was.
Only that’s not something to think about now, looking at the manor before him. It was bigger than anything he had ever been in and a part of him wondered if he had even come to the right place. They had told him where to go, directed him before letting him go on his way and Credence had breathed in air for what felt like the first time in years and went on his way. Knocked his knuckles against the white door and stared at the creature that appeared when the call was answered. A house elf, he knew now from multiple journeys to MACUSA and then to the Ministry. It was something he was adjusting to – this world of magic that he found himself thrown into.
Lips part, but Credence is unable to say anything. Not until another figure appears at the elves’ side, clearly the man that he is meant to know. Mister Draco Malfoy, his mind supplies the answer for him immediately and he tries to remind himself to breathe. “Oh—” is the first thing said, unaware that someone was meant to join him. His gaze goes to the floor, a frown on his face. He’d made a mistake already. “I’m sorry.” It’s instinct taking over, even as the man tells him that he may go inside. Credence clears his throat, stares at the exposed skin of his ankles for a long moment before complying and walking inside. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, something he’s certain is more than clear.
As soon as Credence steps in, Draco takes the little luggage that the boy carries with him, lips parting in an encouraging smile. As he bends down to pick the little suitcase, blond hair spills in a waterfall of platinum upon his shoulders. The young man’s apology, however, prompts grey eyes to focus on Credence, puzzled at first, then softening into an expression of reassurance.
“Whatever are you apologizing for? I am appalled by the lack of professionalism of the staff of St Mungo’s, evident from the mere fact that they have left their charge to find his way to my manor on his own. Not to mention the crass discourtesy of not having called upon me, so I could pick you up myself.” Although displeasure is evident in Draco’s tone, his voice is steady and soft, clearly meant to soothe Credence’s tension. “You however, did remarkably well, arriving at the right address in a country you barely know. And at a most acceptable time on top of that.” Of course, the blond makes sure to praise his visitor for this tiny success, knowing all too well that children raised in abusive households feel a constant need for validation from authority figures. (Although Draco has never considered himself much of an authoritarian.)
“Here, I will take you to your room, and after freshening up, you may join me for lunch in the dining room afterwards. Melly will lead you, of course. After you are done, just ring the bell you will find on your nightstand and she will apparate at your door and take you to me.” Thus explaining, Draco starts climbing the vast marble stairs, slow enough so the boy may follow, then headed towards Credence’s new bedroom. Pushing the door open, he sets the suitcase down then, bowing to the boy once, the older wizard exists the chamber, leaving the other be for now.
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@oflunarcy
Draco sips from his glass of wine with casual elegance, angular features seeming even sharper under the ghastly light of a candle lit chandelier. He is having dinner with Scorpius at their favorite restaurant in celebration of the boy’s sixteenth birthday. Earlier, father and son went shopping in search of Scorpius’s desired gift ( a vintage Nimbus 2000, restored and adjusted to evoke its glory days, which Draco always recalls with fondness).
The locale, tastefully decorated and fittingly priced, is packed with business men and socialites, although it is not as stuffy as usual. However, as the older wizard scans the crowd, stormy grey eyes widen with the characteristic surprise attributed to spotting an old acquaintance among a sea of people. And at a reasonable distance from Draco too.
“Luna? Luna Lovegood?” he asks, soft voice undulating with gentle inflections. “Good Merlin, I haven’t seen you since...” The War. Not that Draco would ever mention the tragedy out loud, simply because he cannot endure the memory of his own foolish mistakes and all the choices he never had. And the mere thought of that cursed battle manages to seed uncertainty in the blond’s gaze: He and Luna have never been on particularly good terms during their school days, although that had been entirely Draco’s fault. One can only wonder what she thinks of him now.
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@vulncrasanentur
“Professor?” he asks, voice soft as nimble fingers knock on Severus Snape’s office door. “You wished to see me?”
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adamstanheight:
adamstanheight:
mood: mads mikkelson being interviewed and then he just pulls out a vodkah bottle deadpanned
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My preshus.
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There are several ways in which Draco Malfoy has tried to redeem himself. Offering the help out an orphaned wizard, host of an obscurial stronger than anything his kind had witnessed before, is among his newest attempts at reaching catharsis. Needless to say, the prime minister had expressed deep concern when the blond proposed that Credence Barebone be left in his care. However, since there had been no one else brave or foolish enough to take on the boy, the permutation process didn’t take long at all.Thus, Draco became an official tutor and protector for the obscurial and its host, a position which entailed that he teach his protege everything about the wizarding society and fund Credence’s education.
And that suits the older wizard just fine, he muses. He has a lot of free time on his hands anyways, now that Scorpius spends most of his days at Hogwarts, and money have never represented a problem for the Malfoy family. Besides, the situation is a win-win: Credence will now be placed in a safe environment where he can experiment and grow into a strong wizard, and Draco will start feeling useful again (sensation which had deserted the blond somewhat once his son left for school).
The boy is to arrive today, however the household is quite serene and quiet. Mostly because Draco had taken care of everything weeks before he even knew the exact date when Credence would finally be left in his care: First, he and the house elves have prepared a bedroom, fully equipped with functional furniture yet bare enough so that the youngster could decorate it to his taste. Then, the master of the house went shopping, making sure to purchase the basic cosmetic supplies and clothes for until when he and Credence could go out and buy more fitting attires.
So, when the doorbell rings, Draco ( who has been reading quietly in the salon) rises from his armchair with casual grace, smoothing his hair and clothes before heading downstairs, where Melly had already answered the door. Seeing her eyeing their visitor so curiously, the master of the house is almost tempted to send her away out of fear that she might unnerve the boy. But as it is, the little creature has always been most attentive and patient with Draco’s and Scorpius’s whims (not to mention the help she had provided to his beloved Astoria during her final days), so he decided against it. Instead, the blond puts a gentle hand on the elf’s shoulder, carefully pulling her to the side so Credence would have enough room to step inside whenever he decides to do so.
“Good after noon, my boy. It is delightful to finally make your acquaintance.” He smiles, head inclining in acknowledgement of the other’s presence. “I see that you arrived here on your own, despite my instructions that you be brought here safe and sound by a qualified wizard.” Not that the blond is surprised in the slightest: The personnel at St Mungo’s, where Credence has been offered temporary residence in a tiny attic room, had appeared to be all too pleased to finally be rid of him (no doubt as a result of the adolescent’s status as an obscurial). “You may come in whenever you are ready.”
@anobscurial
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Headcanon: Draco enjoys having his hair brushed or braided. Extra points if the one doing it is Scorpius, who may or may not have been obsessed with his father’s hair since he was only a few months old.
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“This wine is exquisite, mother.” he smiles, grey eyes settling upon Narcissa with a loving expression. However, the blond barely acknowledges the presence of his father, something that has been happening during family reunions for over a decade now. The only difference now is that now, Draco is accompanied solely by Scorpius and that Astoria’s seat is painfully vacant and will stay so from now on.
Christmas dinners are always tense at the Malfoy Manor, mostly because of Lucius, although Draco himself is another contributing factor to the gloomy atmosphere. But for his son’s sake, he always tries to tone down his hostility and interact with the one parent who had managed to be civil with his late wife, all the while doing his best to ignore the other.
“My compliments to the house elves. The steak is beautifully seasoned.” Sighing, Draco realizes that he will run out of his supply of small nothings quite soon. He can only hope dinner will have been spent by then and he and Narcissa will be able to retreat into the library and discuss in peace afterwards. Scorpius and Lucius will have to make do with each other’s company, and God knows he did his best to avoid inoculating his animosity towards his father to the boy. (Like the man himself did to Draco when he was but a child, prompting him to hate muggle-borns who had done nothing to deserve it.) And surprisingly enough, grandson and grandfather seem to be thick as thieves, despite their differences.
@narcissamilfoy
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Draco enters the shop casually, elegant coat bellowing behind him as he shuts the door delicately. A bell rings above him, signaling the presence of a new customer to the owner, but the wizard pays it no heed. His platinum hair reflects the morning light like silken snow, making him resemble an ethereal apparition, pale and carved in alabaster and ice. Grey eyes focus upon the vendor as a polite yet distant smile lifts the corners of his mouth.
“Good morning. I have been looking for a bezoar stone for quite some time without luck, when an old acquaintance informed me that your shop is well renowned for selling such rare items. I was wondering whether you happen to still have a few in your stock.”
@formidabli
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He had merely meant to take a look around, having stumbled upon the store during his daily evening walk. Curious and attracted by the elegant façade of the shop, Draco was about to step inside when he heard a man’s voice. Apparently, it was closing time, which wasn’t all that surprising since it was well past eight in the afternoon. Therefore, the blond inclined politely, his elegant suit barely crinkling with the motion. Platinum blond hair, neatly combed and left loose, cascaded over his back and shoulders as a gentle evening breeze swept over them both.
“Oh, I was just passing by when I spotted this charming establishment and I felt compelled to further investigate. However, I don’t wish to further stall you, so I will come by again in the morning.”
@superbiadraconis started following you!
“I’m afraid I’m closing up for the evening, is there something you need?”
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