Odin Had A Great Time At Playing Catch With The Baby Dragons And The Baby Thestral Today. Morcant Couldn't

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.

who: morcant and elowen @nobelandloved where: nott library, nott manor

The clock ticked by the second in one of the paintings. It drove Morcant to the edge of insanity, once. One step from the void—the void looked back at him, he felt it. But then... Something pushed him to the abyss, maybe it was his father —familiarity breeds contempt—, maybe it was the inbreeding —none of them escaped the madness—. but he guessed it didn't really matter. Show me one pureblood who isn't a mad bastard, and I'll show you the face of a filthy liar. Or something. He knew it was true enough for the Nott family, but if anyone was safe enough from the dangerous type of madness, that person would be his little sister. He liked to believe that. Morcant would do unspeakable things to protect his sister—pun intended, since he was an Unspeakable for the Ministry. Morcant sat between two massive shelves, hidden by the grandiose and enormity of the library. Piles of books and parchments surrounded him, which wasn't a strange sight for someone like him. Neither was the crazy glint in his eyes, or the bags under his eyes of someone who didn't have a good night's sleep in years. Disrupting his intense study session, he saw Elowen's feet getting closer before he saw her face. — Something is about to happen, and we need to make precautions in case one of us die. — Morcant didn't say hi, or hello, or any blasé form of greeting. He didn't think it was necessary, with the two of them. Making small talk was left for high society sycophants and sucking up to powerful people. Not for your other half.

GOSSIP GIRL (2021-) 1x02, “She’s Having a Maybe”, dir. Karena Evans

MORCANT ELDRITCH NOTT — the chain-breaker

Comment your character’s name for an aesthetic based on our plot!

"do you seriously think you're above the rules" the stupid ones yeah

PINNED POST !

this is a private roleplay account written by silver (they/she), for morcant nott, in the universe of @wingardiumfm.

i do not support or agree with jk rowling in any way, shape or form. none of her views reflect my personal views. in addition, the characters views on certain subjects might not reflect my views, as they're fictional characters inserted in an ongoing plotline.

THREADS [ 021 ]

drafting reply [ felicity, barty, severus, melis, alecto, valerian, bryony, amycus, cassian, arden, sirius, andromeda, dolores, regulus, elowen ]

waiting for my turn [ winnie, arden, bryony & valerian, alecto, narcissa ]

morcant's links

character intro / aesthetic tag / musing tag / wanted plots

pinterest board / spotify mixtape / nott family lore

MORCANT'S POV UNDER THE CUT -- (i'm considering it's his first fiancée, not bryrony!)

How pathetic was he, again? Morcant was supposed to be happy for Valerian. It was his best friend's engagement party, he was going to be the best man. The best man at his best friend's wedding.

The man Morcant had been in love with for years.

But the worst part? That wasn't even the reason why Morcant was sad about the whole thing, no. He already came to terms that he can't be in a relationship with Valerian, that his best friend didn't like him back and it was impossible. So no, he wasn't devastated for the whole unrequited love situation.

He was devastated because Valerian looked miserable.

Maybe he could try to fool someone else, but not Morcant. The way his eyes danced across the room, as if looking for a way out, somewhere to run. His hands resting on the abs Morcant knew he had, but not for any biblical reason, but because he was the best friend. It was like Valerian was trying his best not to puke.

It wasn't obvious, it was just... Morcant knew Valerian more than anyone else.

From his bed hair in the morning, to the way his bright eyes narrowed when he was sarcastic, to the shape of his lips when he said Morcant's name. He knew everything. Or so he thought.

He wasn't stupid, his best friend wasn't getting married for a burning love towards his wife. It was duty. But, still... Why was he looking that miserable? Did something else happened?

Morcant wanted to cradle the Parkinson's face in his hands, caress his cheekbone with his thumb and feel the warmth of his forehead against his lips. Oh Merlin, it felt like a punch in his gut.

"Of couse I'm going to be the best man, are you kidding? They look great together." Morcant replied to the other person, as if his gut wasn't tearing itself into shreds.

And he was good at it. Acting like his heart didn't belong to Valerian, like he didn't want to press him against the wall and show him the filthiest sounds a body could make.

Morcant was the best at lying through his teeth. He even lied to himself.

for valerian: what is something or someone you know you can't afford to lose? how far are you willing to go to make sure you don't lose it/them?

Valerian had drunk too much, but he didn't think he could be blamed for that. It was a party after all, his own engagement party. He was allowed to celebrate. It was definitely the alcohol that made him sick to his stomach, not the thought of marrying this woman. They'd been together for years, why would the thought of the engagement make him feel like he wanted to run, and then keep running, until no one could find him.

His eyes drifted, not for the first time, to the other end of the room. He had never been good at keeping his eyes off his best friend. They sought him out against his will. It was easy between them, with a look he would know, know if both of them were engaged in mind numbing, banal conversation, or if one needed rescuing from an overbearing relative. The worst times were when he didn't look back. When Valerian was left to wonder what the person had said to capture his attention, if this would be the one to steal him away. It was so easy, in those moments, to imagine pulling the other into a side room. Whispering all the unspoken things, demanding his attention and more. But then more images followed, of rejection, of things going horribly wrong, of Valerian left alone, without the only person who knew how to care about. Those images terrified him far more than simply allowing things to remain as they were. Someone approached Valerian from behind, evidently having noticed his mood. "Everything ok?" They asked, a hand settling on his shoulder. "Yeah man, I'm fine."

who: morcant and regulus @impcrios where: room of prophecies, department of mysteries, ministry of magic

Neither of them knew, but both Morcant Nott and Regulus Black had already been fucked over by narrative before they were even born. Perhaps they knew, in the same self-aware arrogance where they fished they self-loathing, bit by bit. They didn't know what the Moirai would spun for them in the fabric of fate. Since they worked for the Room of Prophecies in the Department of Mysteries, some would call that poetic justice. The Nott heir stood by one of the shelves, watching the long line of prophecies with the intent of someone listening to music. Crystal balls that looked inofensive enough, but he knew people that had gone crazy while working there. Lucky him, he was halfway there, maybe that's why he almost didn't feel the pull. Working there during midnight was peaceful and eerie, which was his mood of preference when studying their cases. You couldn't be too comfortable over there. — Black. — He nodded to Regulus as he saw him. For someone with the social skills Morcant had —you get more flies with honey—, not knowing how to approach the topic was disquieting. He couldn't exactly be blatant and outright ask him what he wanted to know. — Did you see anything missing or out of place in your hand? He asked, looking closely to the other's face with a somber sort of respect. It was the best resemblance of friendliness he could emulate in the present circunstances.

who: morcant and alecto @ofcarrowismswhere: delirium.

Alecto Carrow had a first-row chair for the savagery hidden in his heart. The rage, the fury, the blind thirst for destruction. She understood like few people, all the vicious heartache that came with having sharp edges. Except his came with no warning sign and a boyish charm—hers came with silky, flaming hair and blood red lipstick. — We want to invest in the bar. Parkinson and I. — He said, sipping his second glass of firewhiskey. It should burn, he thought, but it didn't. He wondered what that said about him. Maybe the same thing that explained why he couldn't call the man he was in love with by his first name. He couldn't, it would show in how entire face like the miseable, sappy bastard he turned into after Val had gotten married with Bry. — I'm fucking sick and tired of having to deal with angry mudbloods while I just want to have a drink in peace.

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.”