#familyname

[krvla]

@familyname / LUCIUS

IT HAD BEEN GOING ON FOR QUITE SOME TIME. It had started not long after receiving the mark which Draco bore NOT SO PROUDLY against his left forearm. His attempts to MAIM the mark had only increased since receiving it. Draco had made various amateur attempts , spells , hexes. Even settling upon a popular MUGGLE use of self infliction. A simply blade to skin. Much to his dismay , it did nothing to his own dark mark. It merely left deep white scars against the surrounding skin.

He didn’t know what it was his father had wanted of him. Lately Draco spent much of his time avoiding his father when he could. But when he was called into the parlour room , Draco comes. Reluctantly , but obediently. He sits , his body somewhat stiff , as he awaits to hear what it was his father wanted of him.

‘ . . . yes , Sir . . . ? ’

[pctioneer]

Lucius Malfoy ( @familyname ) liked this for a meme-based starter 

Inspired by: vulnerable confession prompts

It had taken weeks for Severus to find a way of visiting undetected. It wasn't as though he could have asked Dumbledore for help - not when it concerned Lucius Malfoy --&& it was imperative that he had a plausible reason for being in Azkaban should the Dark Lord be made aware of his...initiative. However, it was equally imperative he found a way to arrange a visit. Because he had news about Draco (--&& because he wasn't all too sure Lucius would be able to keep himself standing in a place like this.)

The man in front of him hardly resembles Lucius. Won't even pass for a shadow of what he used to be. Glancing around to make sure he was alone, Severus takes a step closer to the cell the other is being kept in.

"there’s no shame in this-."

He isn't sure why those are the first words leaving his lips - or why he assumes that shame is something Lucius is currently concerned with - but it's the first thing that comes to mind when he sees a man once so PROUD locked in a cage.

[intristitia]

@familyname:

          — Hold me for a while, will you?

      The question catches him off-guard. Had Lucius been looking in his direction, the likelihood of him making eye contact in an attempt to hold his gaze would have certainly been high. Fortunately for him, it would seem as though the moment he had managed to glance over, Lucius had long since adverted his gaze. Wise, he thinks; to guard one’s feelings in times of great sorrow. Though he’s sure the man’s forlorn exterior and downcast gaze weren’t exactly a calculated decision.

     But how to respond — he doesn’t know. He can’t recall a time in his life where someone sought him out for comfort. Consoling someone for any number of reasons — …. He’s not exactly sure how. Granted, Lucius has made the answer quite obvious by making such a straightforward request — he can't help but feel tested to an extent.

As if there's always some sort of ulterior motive, his own experience with loss is perhaps the only thing that allows him to think otherwise. Guilt and regret — anguish and heartache. Those are feelings he knows all too well. Allowing his fingers to unlace and his hands to drop to his sides — his expression is unreadable as he finally responds.

' Is that... what you need? ' There's no mockery in his tone of voice; his query is void of its usual sarcasm. The question is posed simply, his voice quiet, soft.

[eric-sadahire]

Pu$$yLicker_69 that’s an interesting name... Is that Polish?

I think so, my mom knew some poles.

[witchgaunt]

@familyname ♥'d for a starter

Irascibel first suspected something was afoot when she awoke on the shore of the Black Lake around mid-afternoon in, by the looks of it, Spring. Ordinarily, that on its own would have been fine, except it had been late Autumn the last time she checked, not that she remembered falling asleep in the first place. How odd.

Deciding against wasting any more time down by the lake, she hauled her satchel over her shoulder and started trudging towards the covered wooden bridge. It was a practiced route Irascibel took for foraging, day in, day out. Still, there was a distinct feeling that something had changed. The dark trees swaying in the wind appeared older and taller, the path was more worn down, the ferns were growing in different places, and the row boats on the shore had all but vanished, leaving only driftwood and rocks.

Just as she got to the top of the hill where the bridge began, her gaze fell upon a stranger, a student with white blonde hair walking towards her. The young man was clearly a Slytherin, around her age, but she did not recognize him. A new student, perhaps? That did not explain the different uniform though.

"Good afternoon. I don't believe I've seen you around before," Irascibel greets in her polite Scottish accent. "Are you new?"

[lightcreators]

@familyname

He  refused  to  lose  his  father,  it  was  an  thought  who  haunting  him  endlessly.  He  cannot  becoming  an  orphan  of  his  parents  when  it  had  been  him  who  prepared  himself  to  be  the  one  be  killed,  to  be  the  one  holding  consequences  …  They  could  try  attact  him  personnaly,  where  he  would  so  pleased  to  exposing  hypocritical  nature  of  the  members  of  the  Ministry,  they  will  not  regret  that  dangerous  essay  inside  an  doman  who  belonged  to  him.  Naturally,  there  was  an  court  weighting  among  his  head,  when  he  planned  to  turn  it  inside  an  Court  of  Illusions  —  where  revelations  won’t  be  stopped  towards  revelations  over  the  problem  they  dared    'fix’,  when  he  would  exposing  all  truths  that  shouldn’t  came  out,  meanwhile  remaining  unassailable  !    If  Potter  wasn’t  that  much  annoying  to  be  always  behind  his  back  as  mistrust  sign,  he  would  have  enjoyed  that  last  moment  to  bring  most  innocent,  most  unconcerned  features  …  preparing  slowly  an  scene  where  he  would  got  that  acknoweldgement  of  his  abilities.  For  a  long  while,  he  stopped  sleep.  He  didn’t  even  pretending  or  try  some  naps  along  the  day.  Rest  will  be  impossible  until  he  wasn’t  sure  his  father  was  safe  …  Any  other  alternative  would  be  an  unspottable  consequence,  where  he  would  be  far  more  angry  to  care.  Usu  ally,  especially  for  showing  his  face  down  inside  the  prison  his  father  was,  he  would  have  paying  attention  to  that  lack  of  sleep    —  showing  somewhere  that  reassurance  feature  he  was  still  alright,  than  there  was  hope  …  however  he  stressed  about  his  reactions.  What  the  importance  if  he  noticed  he  was  unable  to  sleep  ?    Apparently,  the  Ministry  didn’t  receive  memo  than  when  he  wish  for  something,  it  was  an  implicit  order  for  have  it  !  Nevertheless,  inside  current  experienced  not-yet-finished  pressure,  he  didn’t  wanted  suffering  regrets.  He  had  enough  of  them  already.  He  was  too  tired  of  them  already  …  As  he  presented  himself  in  front  of  the  prison  of  his  father,  for  a  short  moment,  he  wanted  put  his  hands  close  to  these  barriers.  It  sounded  even  more  irreral  to  been  here.  Reality  taste  didn’t  wanted  to  be  experienced  as  a  whole,  and  regardless,  reflection  about  his  own  situation  seemed  to  be  projected  down  his  face.  Differently,  he  was  also  inside  an  cage  …  Differently,  he  was  always  prisonier  of  something  he  cannot  escape.  Distance  over  his  emotions  were  expressed  as  a  security.  He  didn’t  believe  the  beginning  of  that  conversation  will  start  well  …  as  his  father  wouldn’t  expecting  couple  of  details  he  might  confess.  He  had  played  the  illusionist  for  some  time,  nevertheless,  his  childlike  love  for  his  father  was  most  honest  and  vivacious.  He  cannot  lose  his  parents.  He  refused  to  lose  his  parents  !  ❝    Dad  …    ❞

[ringedstar]

@familyname sent in : ❛ clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ❜

crimson stains the white of regulus' button up; sickly sweet rust almost overwhelming. his hand clutches his side, sweat now mixing in with the blood that leaves his skin feeling dirty.

it is not a time to show weakness, regulus black, he's quick to remind himself.

at the sound of lucius, the mask is in place. eyebrow quirked; curious as if he's not spilling on the ground.

❝ afraid of a little blood malfoy? ❞ he pulls himself straight. ❝ i wonder what color you bleed. ❞

[stcllla]

@familyname ♡'d for a starter from Elowyn

There had been a time, though it was very short lived, when Elowyn had been the chosen intended bride of Tiberius Nott. Somehow, perhaps it had been her mothers intervention, whatever agreement Cosimo had with Tiberius had been called off and now she had found herself mingling at the reception of his wedding, a glass of wine in hand as she tilted her head while looking at the bride.

"Lucius," She finally spoke, looking up at the blonde man beside her. He made for good company at events such as these, he rarely spoke, and he would gossip with her somewhat if Elowyn had managed to get him to speak. "Merlin, is the bride... is she younger than me?"

[ofblackskies]

lucius malfoy ( @familyname ) said: “ what makes you think i’m going to help you? ” to harry potter

Harry couldn't keep the annoyance off his scar-painted face in response to Lucius' words. What made him think he was going to help? Nothing. He didn't think that Lucius Malfoy was going to help anything at all. In fact, he thought it quite likely that he would only make things worse, even if he did try to help. That was just what that family did, after all. "Dunno. Figured I'd give you the chance to be a decent person, but I should've known it'd go over your head."

[malfaith]

@iselwyn / from here

Lucius's face twists into something nasty under his mask as he dodges. How she knows it's him isn't a mystery - part of the back of his hood was sheared off, showing white-blond hair. "Your father is rolling in his grave," he hisses at her. That's the worst part of it: Mudbloods and Prewetts might fight for the Order, but Imogen is turning her back on her family. "It's better he's dead, or else he'd die of shame!"

If those dead watch the living, Cygnus has no love for Imogen. He was a man who was loyal to his family to the end, only to have them turn on him as soon as his body turned cold. Disgusting. "Crucio!"

[fallencrowns]

@familyname​ asked:                               you are horribly old - fashioned ,  aren’t you ?

His lips curled upwards in that knowing smirk of his. The other really had no idea just how RIGHT he was. Though he kept up with appearances, learned with the times, he still clung tightly to the past. Gripping with fists as it slipped away time and time again.  ❝  Oh, most AGGRESIOUSLY so. Really not much hope for me at this point but I do study and teach ancient magic. It’s my job to live in the past.  ❞  Though he could keep up with the fashion trends, switching to suits and cutting his hair and adapting somewhat to the language, the mannerisms were still intact. Decades spent using them in his mortality.  And they’d been BEAT into him in his youth. That and how he preferred the old style of decour.  ❝  Though I’m sure some might say the same about YOU. These days those that value blood purity are seen as ‘old fashioned’ themselves.  ❞  

[pctioneer]

Lucius Malfoy ( @familyname )

"Yes," Lucius says, "very well." He stows his wand in his robes, crouching down and trying to figure out how to get Severus up. He settles for hoisting him up by his arm and wrapping it around his shoulder. He pulls Severus close to him with an arm around his torso and stands up. Lucius helps him out of the cell and into the cold stone hall. He shivers a little at the salty draft, but bites back his discomfort. A hot bath with Narcissa when I get back to the Manor . . . The place, Severus included, is filthy. "We'll stabilize you as soon as we can," Lucius says. He has no idea the extent of the damage: he hadn't seen any, but that doesn't mean it wasn't there. "Rabastan, get out of there, that's a corpse - Snyde, hurry up." Just because the Aurors are dead or incapacitated doesn't mean the Ministry won't get wind of this soon. You can never bet on catching every ward.

There are probably few people who Lucius would crouch down in the dirt for,, -- but Severus is grateful he doesn't call for someone else to hoist him out of there. His arms feel surprisingly strong around him, pulling him to his feet without him being part of the action in anything more than spirit. Once he is standing, Severus can feel his legs trembling - knees threatening to give out beneath him and he leans against Lucius even more heavily. He doesn't want to risk falling down -- not in front of Lucius --&& definitely not in front of the others.

As soon as they step outside the cell, he squints his eyes against the sudden assault of light - even if it was only artificial && not by any means to be considered "bright". He also takes a deep breath, drinking in the fresh air desperately. The room he'd been kept in had smelled of deeath when he'd first entered it --&& that had only worsened during his stay. He is certain he gives off about the same stench.

__________

The rest of their escape goes by in a blur -- he walks where Lucius leads him && he doesn't question any instructions given to him. Somehow - he manages to keep himself upright and going. That is to say - right up until the moment they reach the Manor. He hardly makes it past the doorstep when everything around him grows black.

[obscsionada]

@familyname hit the ♡

green eyes stared at the man. tall and regal, as if he was owed the world. and lily potter hated every moment she had to hear his name, or read about him in the papers . while she had lost nearly everything from the war, he had managed to keep his reputation despite his involvement with voldemort. his son seemed to be growing up just the same, everything handed to him on a silver plate and it showed.

"Lucius." a soft smile, polite, meant to annoy him. she was no better than dirt to him and lily hoped acknowledging him would piss him right off. "I hear your son has made the quidditch team, and you bought them all new brooms as a celebration gift. i never knew you were such a charitable man."

[spellwrites]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN !!

NAME : Ivy

PRONOUNS : she/her

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION : discord (available for mutuals) or tumblr IMs

MOST ACTIVE MUSE : right now, it's Imogen! but I've been playing and watching a lot of marvel things lately, so my MCU oc Lucia is coming back strong too

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS : oh boy, let's see... tumblr says I created Lucia's first blog five whole years ago, holy cow

BEST EXPERIENCE : definitely everything involving the little trio of Imogen (me), Udyati (@dvarapala), and Hurley (@beyondclown) when they were writing in the HP universe! <3

RP PET PEEVE : hmmmm... I can't really think of anything big atm, but I'm sure I'll think of something as soon as I hit post.

PLOTS OR MEMES : i like a solid basis of plotting for their initial relationship/dynamic and then running hog-wild with it lol

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : HA. I have this habit of more than doubling the length of any thread I write and then having to justify that to myself, my rp partner, and god

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSES : Imogen definitely has my unquenchable curiosity and habit of diving into incredibly ambitious projects with little or no prior experience... but Imogen's inner fire, her attitude, and her discipline to actually follow through with those projects far outstrips my own.

tagged by: @familyname

tagging: anyone! everyone! YOU!

[aliumvoces]

         「 closed starter for @familyname 」

         It’s been all over The Daily Prophet by now. How the miraculous Boy Who Lived faced The Dark Lord, confirming his return. 

         Admittedly, after the brief surge of exhilaration coursed through his veins at the news, he was brought back to reality by the events that followed: all the previously-deemed lies Potter had told, now coming to fruition. The disclosure of supposed Death Eaters.

         And he’s worried, despite the reassurance that he ought not to be. 

         Sparing sidelong glances towards his parents, hushed whispers are barely audible as they speak to one another out of what they assume would be his earshot. But he’s not stupid. He’s not a child anymore — he hasn’t been for quite some time. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together to figure out there’d no doubt be Aurors at their door any given day now.

         Watching as his mother exits the room — her blonde hair trailing behind her as his aunt leads her up the stairs — his gaze soon falls upon his father. The ever poised, well-established man now stands before him looking slightly grim and worse for ware. He doesn’t want to point this out — doesn’t want to cause his parents any more turmoil than they’re already dealing with — but it’s hard seeing his father this way. Hard watching the man he admires most in this world fall under the stress caused by such nonsense. 

         So he avoids the topic — for now.

         ‘   You’re not going with her?   ’ 

[lightcreators]

@familyname continue from here

Lucius has the slightly absurd instinct to correct his language. Draco is an aristocrat, the scion of the Malfoy family - he should speak according to his station and nothing less. His lips still turn down, even as he doesn’t have the heart to berate Draco for his language. The pain and exhaustion still sits in the back of his head. And the anger.

Draco is barely a Malfoy anymore. He’s a traitor. Lucius can’t forget that.

“Not everyone can be bribed,” Lucius says. His own father started taking him to the Ministry at fifteen - at that age he was too preoccupied with his own matters and had no desire to implicate his son in his criminal actions. A long shot that paid off. Draco will have to learn from his mother. “You cannot control an entire system. You can only put pressure on the right places. You have to find the right people.” With the Ministry overhauling in favor of the Order, it will be even more difficult.

Lucius is caught in the hopelessness of it. He cannot teach Draco what he knows. There is no time, no way, there is only weak words that can be overheard if the wrong person walks by.

“You will not be a king. You will never be. Don’t try to be,” Lucius says. Words his father spoke to him, years and years ago. His father was older than he is now. Older than he will ever be. Lucius paces, catches himself in his tracks, feels his own terror root him in place. Draco is all he has left and Draco has betrayed him. Lucius is damned.

“Forget about revenge. Just survive.” Lucius cannot look him in his face. At least he will not be alive to see his son betray him in every word and deed for the rest of his life.

Temporary, he managed to push behind everything who happened … slight action he never achieved to reach during an entire year, slight desire he cannot touch meanwhile he had been embraced by complete hopelessness . It won't last. It can't last. Regardless how much he could searching comfort inside an comfortable denial, or even pretending nothing of terrible circumstances he was actually experienced actually happening, he cannot undone to had removed himself an prorective veil of delusions. Besides, something changed from course of their conversation. He wasn't interested anymore to win a childish game against his father. He wasn't interested anymore to play an game fullfilled of illusions … If he truly desired to be honest, he wouldn't even care about the future of the wizarding world. Whatever posterity of the wizarding world will came from his own mood … Besides, for embracing another layer of entire sincerity towards his inner feelings --- by the moment he had to check up a promise that could be broken at any moment, the wizarding world asked to be eaten by the underground !

An disagreement gaze exposed an opposite opinion about his father remembrance. There was still a way, hidden far away in the shadows, when no one could refuse him. There were some guys that would be so happy to bring destruction and terror in middle of the wizarding world, where absolutely no one could save them. There was still an option to dealing with another devil, in which, he was perfectly aware, he will never be able to let go. During one year, he did nothing. During one year, he wasn't emotionally in state to track down all the things the press say about him, to correcting every kind of terrible reputation he got --- nevertheless, hungry for revenge, hungry for blood, he would making them pay for every unfortunate words they had written. Giving all the red truth he craved so much gutting them alive second by second to receive all satisfaction of playback. If it's wasn't counter productive, he would galdy torturing some Death Eater inside his prison, and showing to his father becoming that terrible terror in the shadows would be easy. He learned well from the Dark Lord after all, why not bring all his knoweldge in an inner conquest ! It had been an informative question, an curious sentence who had to leave his lips. His father didn't believed it was possible. His father didn't believed revolution was possible. His father ddin't believed he could controlling an entire system. For once, he managed not to react on the matter.

Everyone can be brided. Everyone can be corrupted. Everyone was something to blame. Everyone had secrets. Everyone had little corners of truths they didn't want to be exposed. Simply, he didn't learned enough how to get such qualified skills on that domain … Simply, he always have been mentally too kind for daring starting touch the heart directly --- ❝ Fine. ❞ He finally expressed in a tone which expressed a half renunciation, which was faked. He would need to control everything inside the chessboard of the wizarding world … Thinking about how to have pressure points everywhere, and be enough invisible and oppressive for remaining something others wizards cannot deny … For a short mental instant, he remembered this was new conditions of his hell, of that endless hell that will not end … He cannot anticipate his reaction where he will learn his father's death, however, depending how much he had advanced inside his little domination project, he might be clement. Not requesting all the wizarding world blood in retrubition because the Ministry just wanted a pool of blood. ❝ I will do that then, and cheerfully perpetuate my name in family traditions. ❞ It had been an fruitless wish, nevertheless, mere fact he had been trying his move generated an silent contentement. Perspective changed : if his father, regardless how much he loved him and accepted to be an sacrifice for compromise of the wizarding world, didn't perceived him as a member of his own family and remained the traitor … he just had to show him what a Malfoy he was, forcing him to recognize him as king. Such words … such discouraging words cannot reach his heart. It was too late for that. He decided to becoming the king a long time ago, and becoming supposed sacrifice of circumstances --- Crown of an Dark Lord already had been eaten, in which he take blame partially, it was too late. ❝ I just have to prove you wrong. ❞ He expressed calmy. He wasn't going to speak about the Dark Lord, it was a very bad idea. Would only awakening fire between them and how much he wasn't his son anymore, where he would had wished to have kill the Dark Lord himself … ❝ A wide shining crown is just higher to reach, but being the ones responsible for their careless choice, a thief must well devour them. ❞ Composed tone noticed.

It was following sentences who catch up him off-guard, regardless about not be looked at. Without revenge, he won't have lived that far … Revenge had been the essence that had allowed him to live a semblance of existence for a few years, where once emptied, reason for his existence escaped him. Despair eating him instead, doomed every nook of hope, gently breaking his will to something, breaking his will to live … and he had just received a new dose of gasoline ! ❝ Apart from revenge, would I have something else to hold on to in order to survive ? ❞ These two sentences, he had heard them time and time and time again from Potter lips who didn't wanted him to break apart. These two sentences, he heard them more than he could count. For what finality, for what ? There was no hope at the end of the road. He would be murdered one day and it was impossible he was experiencing normality as he should be. Create a family, be loved ? It was mere dreams. It was delusions at this point. Without revenge, he had no reason to keep going … Nevertheless, it remained another informative question.