Morcant Was, After All, A Nott. A Snobby, Arrogant, Stuck-up Nose Pureblood. He Was Self-aware Of That,

It was a silly little thing, really. Odin, his black kneazle, had a morbid curiosity towards thestrals. Morcant's familiar tended to be a stern and proud creature, but the omen of death brought out a completely different side to him. The kneazle could see and feel magical aura, so he was invaluable during Unspeakable missions, and he rarely allowed himself to behave like a... Well, cat.

Even if he truly wasn't one, and merely thinking about Odin as a cat would offend his familiar, but thank Salazar he didn't know Legilimency yet. It was just a matter of time, though, Morcant was sure. Kneazles would still rule the world, Voldemort wouldn't stand a chance against them. Just look at their paws.

"Well, not really. I'm just here to indulge the child. It's not like I can say no to him. Odin has a morbid curiosity towards thestrals, maybe it's because he sees magical aura. Thestrals are truly unique creatures. Well, are you? Getting a ride?"

𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓 | 𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑭𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

The first time Frank had seen one, he was just shy of his sixteenth birthday and had wandered toward the carriages—he had almost gotten into one when he stilled completely. The black leathery horse-like creature peered at him, looking at him as if he had done it countless times—it wasn't the kind of beauty that Frank had been privy to, not until he lost his father.

Even tonight, lanterns lit the pathway as people gathered around - the thestrals were just as beautiful and in a way, the grief was just as raw, even after all these years, but it didn't consume him like it once did. feeling a presence next to him, "are you going for a ride?" a small smile stretching his lips as he looked over.

where: ancestor's lanterns release, samhain festival, hogsmeade when: evening with: open

Morcant really hoped the departed people didn't have access to it beyond the veil. If they did, he was fucked. His heartfelt message to his grandfather, Cantakerous Nott, was along the lines of: "Dear grandfather, thank you for being an even worse paternal figure than my father. No wonder he is a raving lunatic, having you as his father. You are the one who sullies the noble and ancient name of the Nott family. I hope you rot in hell for the entire eternity. Fuck you. A big middle finger, your grandson."

He sighed in relief when the lantern was flying too high to be caugh, and hoped no one saw it. He was about to leave, when he stumbled on someone.

"Oh, pardon me. Sorry, are you okay? I hope I didn't damage your lantern." He asked politely, knowing the ceremony could be a hard time for some people.

WHO: morcant nott & winnie yaxley @anapnco WHERE: st. mungo's hospital, blishwick wing WHEN: new wing at st. mungo's

Winnifred Yaxley was intelligent, funny, gentle, beautiful and came from a good family. She was prime pureblood wife material, and although her blonde hair fell nicely over her face, she wasn't the blonde he'd like to marry. Unfortunately, fate had other plans, and Morcant knew Winnie was as into marrying him as he was (which was, not at all). ━ You know, I'm really grateful you're the one doing this with me. At least you don't spare any punches on your opinions, and I gave you a nice protective jewelry. That's gotta be worth some points, right? ━ Morcant whispered, so only Winnie could hear him, looking at the oppulent necklace around her neck, to her bright eyes.

“Champagne and fur slow dancing at French parties. Money and affairs at cocktail dinners. Smoking cigarettes and laughing in vain cause kings and queens never hurt, they say. Pretty eyes and mouths full of regrets, drinking red wine since the age of 14, cause wine is thicker than blood, and gold coins are running through their veins. Parents travel to Monaco for the honeymoon, only to get a divorce. Poor friends with nothing but money and dope. Call your hot wealthy boyfriend; tell him that you’ve fallen in love with someone too vulgar for your demons to drink a glass of liquor with. Work, bitches work, you shout as if you’ve chew your own gold by yourself. Red dresses and black suits dancing with depression and dying for attention. Oh my baby, with all your money, you couldn’t even buy yourself a soul. And now you pay all the artists in the world to write you a soul. Here you go darling; this poem is your soul.”

— We Call Them The Elite by Royla Asghar (via poems-of-madness)

Morcant: if you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what is one thing you absolutely have to resolve and/or do before then?

Call him crazy, but Morcant had his preparations in place for when he died. That's something only a few people knew about: how fucking paranoid he was. Underneath all the sweet smiles and good nature, there was a deeply neurotic and paranoid young man. He could try to say that it was a byproduct of the environment, but he didn't know how much truth there was in that statement. Elowen knew about it, she had his will in hand and his portrait hidden somewhere safe. He had letters for everyone he loved, telling what he thought they should be happy in his absence. That he loved them, and they should have a long, happy life. He wouldn't run desperately towards loved ones, making confessions that wouldn't have a tomorrow. Why would he tell Valerian and Bryrony that he loved them? He would die the next day, and there would be nothing to do. It wasn't fair to dump that on them and then die, they would have to live the rest of their lives with that in their conscience. Morcant wasn't a good person, but he wasn't about to condemn two people with a life filled with "what ifs". Things were better this way. Quiet and lonely. @nobelandloved @xsecretkeepers @bryonyparkinsons

Gamon looked at the whole exchange with an amused smile in his eyes, as he followed Ted to the exam room.

"I don't know, Healer Ted. Maybe I'm gonna have a sudden case of uncontrollable giggling if you keep being that funny, and that's gonna be your fault." He grinned cheekily, settling comfortably in his usual place.

Most healers in St. Mungus knew his case. The big shot quidditch player who ended his career way too early after he fell from a broom, and it never healed properly. Some medical gibberish about magical injuries, all he knew was that they couldn't heal his broken bones like every other time he fell from a broom. It was the end of the line for him.

It had been a few months since that whole drama happened. He was on the way to recovery, steadily receiving treatments from capable healers, all so that he could dream of getting on a broom again. Not to play, that he knew would never happen again. But he missed having full control of his limbs, thank you very much.

"I'm here for the treatment. I think there was something about checking the progress, if the bones healed in the right places without magic interference." Gamon explained, trying his best to not show how hurt he still was, inside.

setting: st mungo's, third floor: ward for potion and plant poisoning featuring: ted tonks & open !

"You're late.”

That was the monotonous greeting Ted received as he crossed onto the third floor of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies & Injuries, swapping out his signature brown leather jacket for the bright green robes healers wore as their uniform. Pulling out the lollipop he'd had in his mouth, Ted stuck out his tongue, which was tinted an electric blue from the sucker. "C'mon, Healer Boyle — you know, I'm actually fifty minutes early as far as time in Cabo Verde is concerned," he replied cheekily, earning an eye roll as a chart was shoved at his chest.

"Relative to where you are now, Healer Tonks, you're late, and on the day we’re dealing with an overflow of patients from other wards. Room five," the Chief Healer motioned with a flourish of his hand, setting Ted onto his first patient of the day. “And lose the lolli, will you.”

With a sigh, Ted twisted in the direction of the exam room in question, leaving Healer Boyle with a, "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're no fun, Boyle," in a tone that was as friendly as it was sarcastic. Tapping a jaunty tune with his knuckles against the door before pushing it open, lollipop still in his mouth, Ted Tonks gave his patient a large smile. Plopping down onto a stool beside them, he caught glimpse of the Daily Prophet on the bedside table and had to bite down on the lollipop stick hard to keep from grimacing at the sight. That was hardly appropriate for sick people, or so he thought. Especially given what it was reporting on. "Wotcher!” Came a quirky greeting from the healer. “Someone’s having an eventful morning, hm?” Brows rose, clearly not referencing the newspaper and the distress it was causing everyone but instead the fact they were here, in an exam room in St. Mungo’s. “Now then, how about you tell Healer Ted what's going on and I'll see about getting you right and on your way," he spoke with an even and low voice, warm and open so as to break any tension his patient may feel. “Doesn’t look like a case of uncontrollable giggling, so we have that going for us.”

WHO: morcant nott & arden wilkes @ardenwilkes WHERE: st. mungo's hospital, blishwick wing WHEN: new wing at st. mungo's

As friends of years, there were things only Arden and Morcant knew of each other, and one thing nobody else knew was this: they made two Unbreakable Vows of their own. One was that they could never lie to each other, and the other was that they would never leave each other behind. However, there were still things he didn't feel entirely comfortable telling Arden yet. Like his newfound purist tendencies, that honestly scared Morcant himself. So, he brought up the next best thing: Arden's sister's marriage. ━ So, have you seen your sister lately? And Valerian? ━ Morcant asking. He couldn't bring himself to refer Valerian as Bryony's husband, even though that's exactly what he was. Morcant successfully held himself back from making a face, and that would be enough to convince anyone but Arden. ━ They seem to be pretty content.

"Oh boy, if you think you're the crazy one, you're not hanging out with the right people." Gamon joked, as he glanced the book in question, and returned his look to Daisy. He hummed in interest as he picked up the nearest copy next to him, and nodded approvingly. "Sounds interesting, I'm gonna give it a shot."

Gamon was a lover of all things muggle. As far as he knew, his own biological father was a squib and his mother a halfblood. He didn't have memories of them, but the Gryffindor guessed that it should somehow explain why he felt compelled to keep up with technology and comic books. Muggle music, in particular, was very interesting.

"My pet crow is named Bruce Wayne. You know, Batman. He likes to steal shiny things, I think I'm very funny." He shrugged, rolling his eyes at himself, and back at her with a smile. "After I buy right now, can you sign the copy?"

Who: Daisy & Open Location: Diagon Alley Coffee Shop When: Early Morning

Daisy was exhausted. She hadn't been sleeping well, her brain was too focused on everything that had been going on in her world.

This had been her and Jasper's favorite coffee shop to frequent in Diagon Alley. It had been difficult, returning, but everything couldn't stop because he was gone. It was cozy with a few bookcases towards the back and a small sitting area. She wished she could get comfortable, but she had a meeting soon. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she saw it on the bookshelf closest to her. My Year as a Muggle. It was here. It was almost like a sign.

"It never gets less weird seeing my book on bookshelves out and about. It's so cool but still so weird. Sorry, I'm rambling, mostly talking to myself. You must think I'm crazy--" Daisy felt her cheeks flush, embarrassed.

tag dump !!

MORCANT NOTT

(general tag) #morcant nott.

(threads) #morcant nott. threads.

(musing) #morcant nott. musing.

(visage) #morcant nott. visage.

(wanted plots) #morcant nott. wanted plots.

(nott family) #morcant nott. nott family.

(intro) #morcant nott. intro.

(moodboard) #morcant nott. moodboard.

(aesthetic) #morcant nott. aesthetic.

(open starter) #morcant nott. open starter.

(closed starter) #morcant nott. closed starter.

(threads with people) #morcant & muse.

GAMON OLLIVANDER -- DROPPED

(general tag) #gamon ollivander.

(threads) #gamon ollivander. threads.

(musing) #gamon ollivander. musing.

(visage) #gamon ollivander. visage.

(wanted plots) #gamon ollivander. wanted plots.

(ollivander family) #gamon ollivander. ollivander family.

(intro) #gamon ollivander. intro.

(moodboard) #gamon ollivander. moodboard.

(aesthetic) #gamon ollivander. aesthetic.

(open starter) #gamon ollivander. open starter.

(closed starter) #gamon ollivander. closed starter.

(threads with people) #gamon & muse.

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