#❛ : ( threads; rita. )

[haveyouseenthismovie-poll]

[talesofourworlds]

@cataclysmus liked for a starter with Rita!

These visits to Dahngrest were becoming more and more commonplace in Rita's life. She shouldn't have been surprised, really. When it was convenient for Brave Vesperia to use it as a meeting place, of course she would come all the way there to meet them. This was one such day, but at the same time Rita was there to share what she'd been learning about potential replacements for the blastia. Progress was, admittedly, slower than she would have liked. A small amount of progress was better than nothing, and she was eager to share what she'd learned.

Of course, some things never really did change. Just as it had been when Rita had first set foot in the guild city with the others, Dahngrest proved to be as lively as anything. By then, Rita was used to navigating the streets and avoiding colliding with others. Such was the benefit of needing to come to Dahngrest as often as she and the others had. She strode forward with confidence, dipping and moving about to avoid various guild members. That was, of course, until someone caught her eye for just a moment.

There, moving in the opposite direction to her as the crowd thinned, was someone clad in a mage's cloak. Their hood was covering their face just enough so Rita couldn't immediately identify them as she walked closer to her destination. For just a heartbeat, Rita looked back and decided it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Rita wasn't the only mage out there, even if she didn't often don her mage's cloak. Maybe it was just another mage getting ready to go somewhere else in Dahngrest. That was the thought process, at least, until Rita thought more about the encounter.

She squinted. The more she thought about it, the less sense it made. She liked to think that she knew at least a majority of the mages that hailed from Aspio. Even the ones who had been scattered by what had happened to their beloved city when Tarqaron rose should have been recognizable to her, but she couldn't put a name or face to this stranger. Assuming they were a mage at all, of course. Was someone parading around like a mage? For what purpose? Rita's mind raced, and she did the only thing she could think to do. Her pace picked up as she started to follow the stranger. Something wasn't right.

"H-Hey! You!" It was the first thing Rita could even think to say. Not so genius mage of her, she knew, but she was caught off guard. Somehow, she managed to catch up and tried to get in front of the stranger. She was right back to squinting as she looked him over. "Pretty sure there aren't any mages from Aspio living around here. And I think I'd know a cloak like that anywhere. So who the hell are you?"

Already, Rita could imagine some people thinking she was leaping to conclusions. Maybe she was. She couldn't help it in this case, though. When she felt like something was off, surely it made sense for her to pursue it. Right?

[fcrox]

who: open to all where: flourish & blott's when: late afternoon

Browsing books seemed to have become yet another one of her jobs. While reading was still very much something she did for leisure, at the same time each page seemed to have become much more of a source of inspiration and information and, in some rare instances, a source for potential articles. For once though, it wasn't all about the art of writing, the stories her enchanted quill could spin within mere moments. No, it was simply about browsing the latest editions, those other colleagues of hers had already done the work on. What was the harm in trying?

For a while the witch busied herself with the admiring of cover art, only to pick up a conversation here and there without ever seeming just like she was quite listening enough. After all, the back of a book could keep one occupied for quite a while. Truthfully there was always something one could turn into a source for a much bigger bang. Footsteps approaching, whether aimed for her or simply something behind her caused the blonde's attention to shift, eyes drifting to scan the other. "Something I can do for you?" Brows perked, yet a seemingly almost neutral expression on her face. Rita had her ways.

[xantoninxdolohovx]

Where: the Daily Prophet Rita Skeeter's office

Who @fcrox

Antonin made his way into the office before knocking on the door. "Miss Skeeter? I hear you are the one to talk to about getting things done swiftly and discreetly at the prophet." He took in the woman herself, formidable enough to deserve her reputation. It was a hard thing to trust anything to reporters. He gave a small nod, but didn’t extend a hand. “I am Antonin Dolohov, I doubt you’ve heard of me, but who can say for sure given your profession.”

“Something small, a personal ad to be run without edit or question. A serious matter involving socks.” He held a small envelope between them. “There is a date enclosed for it to be run unless I contact you to cancel the need for it. I know such things are beneath you, but I would count it as a personal favor.”

[movie--posters]

[royalbred]

Rita was excited about another staff member being hired in the Williams estate. She bounced along as she went to check out who @theresastargirl was. "You're prettier than what they said you were." The Viscountess leaned on the doorway to the small office.

[bellaaegis]

who: @rxskeeter where: seating area in one of the towers

However many times had she found herself chatting away at the latest gossip, reveling the chaos that came with it. Was any of it ever the truth? Oh, but it hardly mattered. It was the reactions that made the whole thing fun. Of course, there was the added benefit of having gained someone Bellatrix at the very least would call a friend. A silencing charm had long been placed. No one would dare come and disturb and area chosen by someone such as them.

"Tell me you've had a good summer! I'd hate to hear it didn't live up to expectation." Bellatrix had spent her time in France, brushing up on things as well as making sure much rest was gained from her time away from the walls of Hogwarts. There were things at stake that went beyond the school. There was a whole world, just so much bigger than any of them and she was very much determined to find her place in it.

Bellatrix leaned forward with eyes that sparked with a need to know, a curiosity to hold the knowledge only the other possessed, that ever daring hint of mischief. The witch was ready to cause chaos yet would much rather leave it up to the other to actually bring about the chaos that they all seemed to enjoy so very much. "Tell me, what interesting deeds does this school have to hide? I'd hate for my last year in this place to be the most boring of them all."

[thxnymph]

Closed Starter

Rita let the clock get to six until it was time for her to clock out of work and head home. The agent let her feet guide her to the door, as her mind was preoccupied with something else. On her latest mission, a hit on a scientist by the name of Edgar Solomon, she was attacked by what she supposed was a rival agent. Everything was set in place, until this new player entered the scene and screwed everything up.

Later, once she made it back to base and patched up her wounds, she got a chance to look at her attack more clearly. The rival agent managed to get a good slice on her arm, it required stitches. If that wasn't problem enough, the identity of the agent shocked her to the core. It was Marcel, her husband of five years. Her husband.

Rita needed to keep herself together, despite the heartbreak and anger. She entered her home, luckily the house was empty. She went about making dinner, despite the pain her arm. As she placed everything together, she weighed her options. Her superior, the leader of her agency, gave her exactly 48 hours to 'clean the scene'. She needed to kill him, she needed to. Even if it killed her as well. // @xlostparadise

[lcmos]

a mini lyric starer for rita @skeeterscribbles

" don't you tell me what you think that I could be "

his voice was sharp - his eyes piercing as he looked at her. of all the places....... he had been wandering the fair when he ran into her. "i will not listen to that poison tongue of yours , skeeter." he hissed at her. "you do not know me." looking down towards the daily prophet in his hands. "i assume you are here to write some more nonsense."

[llimerrence]

“One day I’m going to date someone, and I’m going to have to bring them home.” Rita sighs, “And I’m going to have to in all seriousness introduce them to my father, my twin, and my pet that’s half goat-half pig named Wompers.”

“And knowing this family, I’m going to be dating a demon, or a cryptid.”

 “God, why is my life like this?”

[notdelicatc]

Any outing in a traveling cloak was usually an outing during which the witch was hoping to avoid running into others yet knowing that nothing like that was ever truly possible. Not in a world such as theirs, where their society was so small within certain circles. Now, Emmeline was hardly trying to go out of her way to avoid company, to avoid bumping into those faces she herself would recognize. Sometimes it simply couldn’t be helped.

And then there were those encounters that would bring out her mask, the smirk lighting up her features when she spotted Rita. Even though the brunette tried to stay out of the drama that could at times take hold of certain parts of society, the whole idea of it rather amused her. Many a day had been spent with her browsing the newspaper simply to find herself chuckling at one thing or another; most likely the misfortune of others. Not in a cruel way, no. Simply in a way that questioned another person’s sanity, or level of intellect.

“Ms Skeeter. What can I help you with?” The words slipped out, ever so easily when she saw the blonde moving toward her. Either she was heading for her, or she hadn’t noticed that another had entered the pub behind her. Somehow the second option seemed less likely; especially for someone who usually walked in shadows, hidden and out of sight. - @gxssipwitch

location : leaky cauldron interaction : open !

the dim, smoky interior of the leaky cauldron buzzes with hushed conversations and the clink of butterbeer mugs. rita sits in a shadowy corner, her quick-quotes quill poised over a piece of parchment. her jeweled eyes glint in the candlelight as her eyes dart from table to table, hungrily seeking out the next juicy tidbit of gossip.

a smirk plays on her lips as she overhears snippets of conversation – whispers of ministry shake-ups, rumors of dark magic resurfacing. her quill scratches furiously, embellishing each morsel of information with her trademark flair for the dramatic.

suddenly, the pub's door swings open, admitting a gust of chilly air and a figure shrouded in a traveling cloak. rita's eyes narrow as she recognizes the newcomer – a potential source, or perhaps her next unwitting subject. she takes a sip of her gillywater, mind spinning.

with a practiced flick of her wrist, rita tucks away her quill and parchment into her handbag. she stands, smoothing her top and plastering on her most beguiling smile. time to work her magic – after all, the truth won't sensationalize itself.

[fcrox]

who: open to everyone where: diagon alley, in front of the daily prophet office when: early afternoon thread counter: 001

A crazy day for the papers, much like any other and yet filled with a little more drama than usual simply because of all the events going on in the world. Hardly a step could be taken without some ripple turning into a tidal wave that would sooner later come to swallow one or the other whole. Rita, of course thrived from such events even if she held those opinions closely guarded. At best one would see the witch smirking lightly. No, her duty was done, and her work done for the day. Mere minutes before had she finished for the day and was looking forward to an afternoon off; off to bring about the mischief only someone like her could handle.

For a moment she stood by idly, observing the movement within the busy street. Diagon Alley hardly ever seemed to slow down. The rustling off paper next to her, as well as the snort that followed caused her to turn, as though disturbed in her reverie. Whoever it was certainly must have good reason, caused her to be forced to give them whatever valuable time of her day was left. “Can I help you?” That, or perhaps a piece of mind. The witch did not bother to check just yet who it was. “Something funny in the papers you don’t agree with?” A polite smile that could hide daggers followed.

[hattiewritesalot]

Poison

Azriel x Reader

Summary: At an event hosted by High Lord Beron, Azriel's closest friend Y/N seems to be incredibly wasted. The only problem? Azriel knows that she doesn't get drunk. Ever.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, poison, vomiting, a drunk love confession, a bit of angst but it is all in all quite fluffy

A/N: So this may or may not be inspired by the scene in Wicked King where Cardan gets poisoned... enjoy!! :3

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N is, as always, on high alert as she follows Rhys into the ballroom. Something combined with her dislike for social events and her lack of trust for the High Lord of Autumn meant her eyes and ears were everywhere, keeping constant watch over everything. Azriel’s large hand gently splays over her bare back, the rough fingers a gentle reminder that he’s there, and possibly to tell her to stop being so tense. She shoots a glare at her best friend, who responds with a badly-concealed smile.

She’s dressed in black, they all are, as is custom in the Night Court. Her dress is floor length, the black satin offering a nice hold around her figure, the neckline a low plunge, and the slit on her left side allowing her some freedom. The fabric is littered with silver threads and diamonds, meant to represent constellations, and also to match the sparkly heels on her feet. She looks pretty. She feels it.

A servant welcomes them warmly, almost immediately offering the group a drink of champagne, which she takes. Cassian snorts, and teases her for taking the only glass that the poor servant had, but she rolls her eyes and takes a sip.

She rarely drinks. She doesn’t like it. She’s seen enough of the boys’ drunk shenanigans to be put off it for a lifetime. She usually stays sober, if not tipsy, whenever they go to Rita’s, opting for escorting a stumbling Rhys back to Feyre rather than being the one stumbling.

But one drink won’t hurt. Not tonight. Tonight, she’ll need it.

The Inner Circle split up around the room, Azriel hot on Y/N’s trails, scarred fingers just barely tracing her bare shoulders. She sighs, leaning against a wall, him doing the same. “Time check?”

Azriel snorts. “You’re the one with the watch.”

She clicks her tongue, and checks the time, leaning back with a groan. “Two more hours of… this.”

“Always a ray of sunshine.”

“Says the shadowsinger.” she grins. Azriel was the first person she’d met in the Inner Circle, and coincidentally, her closest friend. They’d been attached at the hip the moment she’d introduced herself. They know everything about each other, inside and out. 

She’d never admit it, but her heart longed for the Illyrian. He was always so clever, so considerate. And, not to mention, his sharp features and hazel eyes made heat rise in her cheeks; hot, blissful, lovestruck heat.

“I think Cassian wants me for something.” Azriel muses, tipping his chin towards where Cassian was very unsubtly gesturing for him to accompany him. Y/N narrows her eyes at the redhead he’s standing with, and laughs. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that were Eris Vanserra. Good luck, Az.”

Azriel groans, playfully tugging her hair as he walks over to his brother.

All alone, now. She drinks her champagne, downing it almost immediately. She liked champagne. It never got you too drunk, never made you too irrational. “Enjoying the festivities, Y/N?” Beron’s voice purrs out from behind her. She forces a smile.

“I’d say yes, but it appears I’ve run out of champagne.” The High Lord cocks a brow at her words, and offers her another glass with a different, more vibrant liquid. “Try this. It’s exclusive to the Autumn Court. I believe you’ll enjoy it, it’s not too strong.”

She eyes the glass, before taking it, taking a sip. It’s a subtle flavour - fruity, slightly bitter. “Thank you, my lord.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he walks away. 

Cauldron, this drink is good. She drinks every last drop, and places it down on the table next to her, looking for a bottle of the same-

Oh. Oh. This is fun. Fun, fun, fun!

Why isn’t she having fun! Tonight is amazing!

An uncontrollable giggle tears from her throat, the sound throwing her off slightly as wave after wave of lucid dizziness hit her. She laughs, clutching her chest. This is so fun!

Where’s Azriel? Is he having fun? Oh, she loves him. Loves him so much. Where is he!?

-----------------------------------------------------------

Azriel cracks his neck, obviously not wanting to engage with the eldest son of the High Lord, who clearly would rather be anywhere else. Cassian is long gone, with the excuse of seeing Nesta, and now Azriel has been left to deal with Eris. This could not get any worse.

Until it does.

Y/N beams at him, tripping over her feet to get to him, stumbling as she slumps into his arms, snorting and giggling. He freezes. Eris chokes on a laugh. Her hands reach up to grab his face and tug at his hair.

“Y/N?” he murmurs, taken slightly off-guard by her strange behaviours.

“Azzy!” she squeals, laughing and kissing his cheek. Eris cocks a brow. “Looks like your little Y/N’s had too much to drink.” His words echo around Azriel’s head. No, that can’t be. Y/N doesn’t like drinking. And why would she get drunk here of all places? And why-

His heart sinks. Her pupils are dilated. Her body is trembling. Her skin is turning clammy. 

This isn’t alcohol. It’s poison. 

His eyes go wide as he pulls her form into his arms. “Y/N?” he mumbles, a little firmer now. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, silly!” she squeals. Eris laughs again, and Azriel’s head whips towards him. “What the fuck did you do to her!?” The eldest son’s eyes widen at his harsh, almost growling tone. 

“Me? I’ve done nothing. She’s just drunk, shadowsinger.” He sneers at him down his pointy nose. Azriel clutches Y/N closer, ignoring all of her babbles as she squishes his cheeks and tugs his dark locks like a child. 

“I love you!” she squeals. “I love you sooooo much. So much. I wish we were mates.” she slurs. Azriel takes a shaky breath at her words, and Eris gestures to her flailing form. “See? Drunk.”

“She’s not- she’s not drunk, she’s- fuck, where’s Rhys?” His tone is desperate as he searches for the High Lord. Y/N’s knees start to buckle, but he wraps her arms around her thighs. “Stay with me, sweetheart, you’re gonna be okay.” He manages to catch the attention of Rhys, whose eyes go wide at the sight of Y/N’s slumped form, and he rushes to them. “What-”

“She’s been poisoned.” Azriel chokes out, panic surging in his veins as he hugs his girl as tightly as he can to his chest. ��We- we need to get her out.” Rhys takes a breath, and seems to send a message to Feyre, because she starts to round everyone up. “She’ll be okay, Az, just calm down-”

“I’m not going to calm down! She could die!” He snaps. Rhys backs off at the protective gaze in his brother’s eyes. “Get her back to the Night Court, I’ll sort out here.” Azriel hooks one arm under her knees and the other on her back as he closes his eyes, winnowing back to Velaris. 

She squirms, shoving herself onto the cold floor of the Moonstone Palace, and she pukes, gasping and gagging. He shushes her gently, his shadows swirling around her and stroking her hair back as she retches. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Get it all out.”

As she vomits, his mind can’t help but flick back to what she said in the Autumn Court. ‘I love you!’ ‘I wish we were mates.’ His heart flutters at the recollection, but he silently growls at it to shut up. She’s been poisoned. Her head isn’t right. She was probably just saying words for the fun of it. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean it.

But still…

No, heart, stop it.

He pulls her up against his chest when she’s finished, gently rubbing her back. She sobs, slurring unintelligible words. He kisses her sweaty temple and carefully carries her up to her room, murmuring sweet nothings to keep her calm, but her body thrashes. Her eyes are rolling back. His hands are shaking. 

He just about manages to get her writhing form onto the bed when Rhys arrives, Madja hot on his trails. “She’s been poisoned?” she asks. Y/N screams in response. Rhys winces at the noise, but the expression worsens at the fury on Azriel’s face.

“Azriel-”

“Go on.” He growls. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t storm back in there and kill them all.”

“Because first of all, that’ll be a lot of paperwork for me, and second of all, I don’t think Y/N wants you to leave.”

Rhys is, frustratingly, right. Y/N has taken it upon herself to latch onto Azriel’s arm, clutching him and mumbling profusely, cheek squished against his bicep. He sighs, and gently pats her hair, shooting a glare to the High Lord of Night in the process.

He sits with her the entire time Madja treats her, his fingers tightly intertwined with hers. The healer concludes that she’ll be okay, but not without side-effects. She says he was clever to get her home so quickly. It wasn’t out of intelligence, it was out of fear.

She gives Y/N a sleeping draught, just so her aching body can get some rest, and then she leaves. Azriel stares at his best friend’s face, and figures he should do the same. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead, smiles at her fluttering eyes, and moves to leave.

Standing in the doorway, however, his eyes flit back to hers, the hazel of his irises connecting with her soft hues.

And then he feels it.

Like a string pulled taut, it snaps within his chest, flooding his veins with the pure bliss of finally having something to protect, to care for, to love. It roars throughout his body, his heart burning with the golden flames of the bond.

Mate.

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PART TWO HERE!!

lol hmu I write for acotar now

[royalbred]

❛ you'll have to excuse them. they're idiots. ❜ (to rita from henry @ bridgesbcrned)

"Rude." Rita was tempted to stick her tongue out at her youngest cousins who threw a piece of cake at her. "Remind me never to have children. They're demons." She made a face at the two twins who ran off at their mother's request. The woman shot her a look though making her cheeks red. "Sorry, how are you Hen? Have you seen Nicholas."

[fcrox]

Florish and Blott's was about as crowded as one could imagine it to be on any given day that someone decided to publish their book. The book in question? Something about cheese. Oh, Rita knew how to be nice when it came to down, knew how to smile when it mattered to a point she wondered if one day the blonde would fool herself with it.

"Yes, I do recall." The journalist couldn't help the small chuckle. "And I've brought you this." Without another moment wasted she pulled out a copy of the next day's Daily Prophet. "You've earned it." A decent sized article, mentioning the book and effort that had gone into it. A promise was a promise. After all, no matter how silly the witch may have thought a book about cheese could possibly be, Rita held no grudges against the young witch. "You absolutely have to sign a copy for me. If you have the time, of course." Who was she to judge. Success was success. She could respect as much. - @gretascatchlove

location: florish & blotts status: open for everyone

Today was the day. Her book had hit the shelves. Weeks upon weeks of testing and tweaking recipes and months of research had lead to this moment. Her excitement was palpable as she looked at the books displayed on the shelf, huge grin as she took a step backwards. Straight into another person. Greta winced. "Oh my, I am so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going. You see, my book came out today and I was just caught up in looking at it- I didn't hurt you did I?"

[bellaaegis]

who: @rxskeeter where: the streets of hogsmeade

Minutes had turned to hours and those hours had stretched. What had begun as fun, eventually turned into boredom as those she considered worth her time had dispersed and moved off into their own corner within the village to do whatever it was they were doing. The Slytherin didn't care much, they all needed their space; herself included. Drink in hand she'd eventually come to wander the streets, browsing the shops open during the late hours, sipping the liquid within her cup. It had been an offer on one of the stalls along the path, some fruity that she couldn't quite place but certainly had an interesting aftertaste. All, while hoping to find someone who'd peek her interest and keep her company before Bella would finally make her way back to the castle.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes! Looking good but that's no surprise." Somewhere in the crowd she'd lost her sisters. Bellatrix didn't mind. Surely her family wanted to enjoy the celebrations as much as she'd come to enjoy them. Her face lit up with the hint of a smile. "There's been quite some chaos going about. Some Hufflepuff kid's been shooting arrows at people and there's been at least one fight at the Three Broomsticks." Chaos, it was the one thing she enjoyed the most.