RUN AROUND !, open!

[ARTHUR NOVA SELWYN]

because i am made of scars ,

As if he were a pregnant and/or menstruating woman – God only knows how to differentiate between the two; to Arthur Selwyn it only meant one thing: a walking, functioning, emotional trainwreck and a no-pass zone to the pussy – the young man had a craving for ice cream. Could he have ventured down the street to the nearest muggle establishment to grab some frozen confection from the freezer to enjoy? Yes, he could have, but the young halfblood attempted to disassociate with muggles and their products as frequently as possible. Despite his lack of pure blood, Arthur sided heavily with the Death Eaters – he even killed for the minister and his department heads on occasion – and worked to prove himself a true supremacist whenever the opportunity arose. So, in an attempt to stick to the wizarding world, Arthur found himself taking a portkey (he only apparated upon emergencies due to the neaseau that always followed such an experience) to Diagon Alley. His destination? Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.

The boy was determined to get some damn ice cream, despite the rumors of a Death Eater attack set to take place at some point during the day – he had not been invited to the meeting which revealed the details of said event. He assumed his exclusion from the meeting was primarily due to his age, inexperience with large-scale operations, and blood status. It seemed like every factor in Arthur’s life was determined by his blood status. Why couldn’t he find a pureblooded witch? Halfblood. Why couldn’t he find respectable employment? Halfblood. Why would he never be accepted by his peers? Halfblood. As the spinning of the portkey stopped and the Selwyn’s dazzling blue eyes adjusted to the dirty appearance of the alley around him, the boy sensed something was amiss. Instinctively, he drew his wand and crept toward the opening of the alley that would reveal to him Diagon Alley.

He poked his head around the corner and what he witnessed caused the corners of his mouth to turn upward, revealing a pearly-white smile: blood, masked figures dueling with spectators as well as each other, and utter chaos. He retracted into the alleyway and pushed his body against the grimy wall. Arthur took a deep breath and killed his head: he could smell death in the air and he wanted to add to the mayhem.

WORDS , 392. TAGS , WHOEVER
NOTES , UH, YEAH, BRING IT BIIIIITCH
made by lisha of rcr

[REBECCA EILEEN ROOKWOOD]

I

LET THE BLOOD RUN IN THE STREETS

The Words: a number The Notes meh meh this post was really rushedd. i hope you'll forgive me and i hope it workss

Rebecca just needed a new fucking quill. She had lost her last quill yesterday, probably in a pile of paperwork at her desk, but it was not in her personality to carefully retrace her footsteps to find the damned thing. She wanted to buy another one instead, because it was easier. First time in her life, she wanted to take the easy way out since everything else in her life was a bit too hard for her liking at the moment. Not to mention the fact that she had forgotten to attend the last order meeting due to sleeping through her alarm, she had mountains of paperwork at work that she had to catch up on. It was no surprise that everything seemed to be going wrong.

She walked out of the shop with five quills stuffed into her jacket. That should last her for the week at least the way that her weeks seemed to be going. She was actually in a good mood since she left the shop stuffed with quills and that had been the purpose of the visit. What does a good mood call for? Celebration. Maybe most people wouldn’t celebrate being in a good mood since it’s something so common, but for Rebecca these days, it did at least call for butterscotch flavored icecream cone. She had a smile on her face as she walked towards the alleyway for Fortescue’s.

Then, she was suspended in awe and shock. There were hooded figures everywhere. There were screams. There was blood. She reached for her wand, letting all her five quills fall to the ground. Bollocks. Were they death eaters? Probably. However, there were too many of them. Way too many. She backed away slowly. She wasn’t running away. She was just thinking. Thinking about how she would leave this place alive. Backing up while a bit overwhelmed, she was slammed into another body. She turned around immediately, holding her wand in a dueling position. It was Arthur Selwyn, someone close to her least favorite person. She should have guessed that he was a death eater.

“It’s you. Did you drop our mask or something? You dumb scums decide that you’re not killing enough people, so you just decide to point your wands anywhere? There are children here! You disgust me.”

created by STALK ME REDNECK!

[ARTHUR NOVA SELWYN]

because i am made of scars ,

The screams. The screams were increasing in magnitude at each passing second. The damage that was being done on the streets of Diagon Alley was something that Arthur had not expected, but was pleasantly surprised to see. One would think that a violent member of the Death Eaters, such as Arthur Selwyn, would have been invited to take part in such events. In fact, he actually felt a bit offended that he was not involved, but assumed the main reason for his exclusion was due to the purity of his blood. He couldn’t blame his peers for not fully trusting a halfblood; it pained Arthur every day to think that the people he idolized and yearned to be equal to would never trust him fully. It had been proven time and time again that Arthur would have do anything for the purebloods in the sake of blood supremacy – his loyalty to the Death Eaters mirrored something of a Nazi officer to Adolf Hitler – but it would never be enough. He would never be one of them, no matter how hard he tried.

His mind wandered away from the massacre unfolding before his azure eyes and to the ungrateful purebloods whom plagued society. Those who were blessed with perfect blood, status, and wealth and threw those gifts in the trash for a ‘better life.’ Yes, the worthless blood traitors always said they were more understood by muggles and mudbloods alike and that they judged people based on character rather than status; what a bunch of shit. No: no pureblood could ever really feel that way, it was all merely a ploy to win power over those whom longed for status, pure blood, and most of all power. In that way, Arthur was personally offended by blood traitors. For a halfblood, he surely did have the mindset of a supremacist: his Father raised him well.

Selwyn was brought back to Earth when a body crashed into him. Instinctively, he shoved the body off him and drew for his wand. The fourteen inch cherry wood, with unicorn tail core, was practically twitching with excitement as his opponent settled into a dueling position. A smile passed his lips and he tightened his grip, telling his wand to settle. He knew the little blonde before him, though it had taken him a minute to place a name to her face: Rebecca Rookwood, one of the aforementioned blood traitors. For a moment Arthur questioned if she would recognize him from their school days where she used to ‘bravely confront the bully’ after Arthur had bludgeoned one of her comrades. He had always admired her spirit, but felt instantly annoyed at her in-your-face presence. He did not lower his wand, however, she was an Order member and not a complete idiot, he had to maintain his guard.

”Rookwood, I’m sure you’ve missed me.” He began in a less than friendly tone, but no venom seeped from his voice for he was not yet ready to kill (after all, he had no orders to do so and had to keep up with appearances). As she accused him of being a Death Eater, he had to force a laugh. ”Please explain how a lowly halfblood like me could be running around with the Death Eaters?” While his wand remained steadily aimed at the spot between her eyeballs, he offered her his arm to allow her to check for a mark. He smiled, knowing she would see his unscathed skin under the sleeve of his black cloak. ”Now, play nice. Keep in mind whom is the filthy blood traitor in this situation: last time I checked, that is fucking disgusting.”

WORDS , 609. TAGS , POPPY!
NOTES , <3
made by lisha of rcr

[MASKED MAN !]

NUMBER 3

the masked men are coming by CAN'T EVEN SHOUT, CAN'T EVEN CRY, THE MASKED MEN ARE COMING BY. LOOKING IN WINDOWS, KNOCKING ON DOORS, THEY NEED TO TAKE SEVEN AND THEY MIGHT TAKE YOURS. CAN'T CALL TO MOM, CAN'T SAY A WORD, YOU'RE GONNA DIE SCREAMING BUT YOU WON'T BE HEARD. Number three had decided to lay low momentarily whilst chaos ensued. Preferring instead to remain low key. He became the one many overlooked, the one many took no notice of…because quite frankly he blended in with the shadows. Wordlessly, he flicked his wand at what appeared to be another masked man, but in the chaos of the scene it instead flew into a crowd of passerbys. The dark magic flowed from the tip of his wand causing an innocent to trip into what would be a pool of their own blood the knife like wounds began slicing their way through their skin, one in particular severing deep enough to cut into his gut. He kept his head low, astounded that he had truly thought those passerbys were other masked men, and moved quietly until he heard the conversation near him. The conversation was hushed and made him even more on edge, and in a panic he sent a wordless spell missing ever so slightly as the spell hit just behind them causing a portion of the roof to cave in and slide to the street.

MADE BY PIXIE @ ATF