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mundungus can’t quite remember how many times he’s tried to get sober, but he knows one thing: he’s always failed. this time, too --- since benjy and sturgis’ deaths he tried, really, and then the news of the list hit and ... well. so what if he’s a little stoned, while tensions fill up knockturn alley? he’s just dealing with his anxieties, like any other person is, and so if you ask him, there’s not much he’s doing wrong.

well, except for one thing: he’s not eating ice cream, as hestia ( @tiajoneses ) is. eyes fall on the other as he moves through knockturn alley -- a place that feels like both his office and his home -- and a grin curls his lips when he sees the food in her hands. “that fortescue’s?” he inquires, rising his eyebrows. fucking munchies. “looks damn good, that does.” 

he wonders, for a moment, why she’s there. he wonders why he is. worry about either of them he doesn’t, however, his focus mostly reserved for ice cream and getting it, escapist tendencies always taking control in situations like this. “what flavours did ya get?”

#; * ! hestia ( 004. ) ; #; * ! hestia ( chat. ) ; #; * ! the list ( event. ) ;

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riley:

“Agh!” Riley’s head shot up from the table as it was shaken. She couldn’t tell if it was by someone sitting down or shaking it, but it didn’t matter. “Can’t you let a poor nurse sleep? In a public place? At…eleven-thirty in the morning?” The witch sighed and finally sat up, peeling a piece of hair that had stuck to her face. “My tea’s probably cold now…”

A guilty grin lingered on Mundungus’ lips as he watched Riley startle before he feigned innocence. “Whoops!,” he said, rising his hands. “Didn’t mean to startle.” Being at St Mungo’s was both boring and excruciating, memories of the attack still fresh on his mind. He was desperate for distraction. “Maybe you shouldn’t be sleeping on the job in the first place, though.” He leaned back a little. “Or you should just ... find a better place to do it, like a hospital bed or a closet. Plenty of those ‘round here.”

#; * ! riley ( 001. ) ; #; * ! riley ( chat. ) ;

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ariel‌:

          by 12:53am, ariel was certain she had heard at least twenty different people whispering about the list. it might’ve been something exciting to talk about, had she not grown tired of it hours ago. the topic was surely exhausted. have you heard about the list? do you think they’ll reveal it? who do you think’s on it? bullshit. she didn’t care anymore. if it was a big deal, then it could be worried about later, when it actually became a problem. worrying about something that might not even be true was a waste of time — there were PLENTY of other things to be concerned about anyway. rolling her eyes away from the eighth patron to ask her about it, the blonde got to work drying off a glass as she moved down towards the other end of the bar.  ❛ please don’t tell me you want to talk about that fucking list, ❜ she moaned to the patron sitting at the end of the bar.  ❛ i’m real tired of hearing people’s opinions on the matter. ❜

    mundungus was handling the news the only way he knew how: by drinking and forgetting about it. IF the rumours about this list were true, and it were to come out ... he was screwed, and not planning on staying around any longer. but for now they were merely rumours, so mundungus tried to ignore them until something real popped up and just drank. in a disguise, that day, as he’d just come off a job and his face was still mildly transfigured ( plus, he was wearing a fake mustache --- just as a fun touch ). it’d be a waste not to use it any more, he figured, and so he’d positioned himself at the bar, his upper lip itching. “nah, i’m not a big fan of speculating,” he said, shrugging as he sipped his beer. some of it got stuck in his mustache, and he wished to rip the thing off. why did people bother with facial hair? “it’s boring and a waste of time, ya know? why stress ‘bout something that i don’t even know everything about.” he wondered if ariel recognised him, supposed he didn’t care too much. “wanna talk ‘bout something else, then?”

#; * ! ariel ( 001. ) ; #; * ! ariel ( chat. ) ; #i cant believe i added that mustache to the icon anyway #im a serious rper

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emma‌:

work in the beast division is not quite as busy as that of an auror in their current climate, but never does a day go buy that emma’s sat idly by. it just so happened that she’d just finished a job — there had been a shop in hogsmeade that a particularly nasty ghoul decidedly took residence within. the second she finished the task at hand and sorted everything out with the owner, her sights were set on hog’s head inn. firewisky in hand, eyes fall on a familiar face among the masses. curiosity killed the cat, which absentmindedly led her to them. stopping just short of their table, she clears her throat to catch their attention, an uncharacteristically sweet smile following. “hate to trouble you, but do you mind if i sit here?” a quick gesture to the rest of the place is made before carrying on. “my other choices for company are… tragic, at best.”

eyes fall on emma and mundungus grins. “sit down, you,” he says, nodding to the empty chair across of him. he’s surprised that she wants to share a table with him --- most people have been avoiding him like the plague. he can’t really blame them; it’s not like he’s showered in the past few days, and he’s on drink number i’ve-lost-count already. “what a day it is, if i’m the best choice of company.” the comment is made with a wink and mundungus downs his drink, not caring if emma judges him ( he supposes she does almost all the time, any way ). “quite hectic here, innit? i suppose the recent news has got everyone wanting to get drunk. can’t blame ‘em. and you? here to drink your sorrows or to celebrate?”

#; * ! emma ( chat. ) ; #; * ! emma ( 001. ) ; #alcohol tw

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marlene‌:

❝ munnie, ❞ a feigned nickname said in a pretend warning as eyes glimmer with amusement. elegant hand soon reaching out to grab his that had just hit the table with such force that the glasses had moved. ❝ i never meant to break your heart, but you know that i’ll never be anyone’s ❞ hand letting go of his as she takes a sip from her champagne flute again. leaning back and giving him a faint fake-apologetic smile. ❝ i’m sorry but that is all i can give you. ❞

“lene ...” he says, a bit disappointed with the nickname he gives her. this is improvisation, though, and there’s no going back and fixing his mistakes. “please don’t do this.” mundungus tries to make it sound as his voice breaks, and he looks down at his hands before finishing his glass of champagne. “i beg you --- let’s just try it, at least.”

#; * ! marlene ( chat. ) ; #; * ! marlene ( 002. ) ;

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rita‌:

         she looks annoyed, glassy stare becoming duller by the minute. less and less attached… closer and closer to snapping. but she forces another semi-sweet smile onto her lips ( though it’s a little sharper than it should be ), and folds her arms across her chest in an effort to distract her hands from the urge of clawing him. “ my mistake, “ she says, through gritted teeth, her words still dipped in a sugary honey that doesn’t reach her eyes. instead, gaze becomes a little more tired. “ sorry — i think you must have be confused with someone else. hookum, maybe, “ she says, a little breathless, not quite her usual, vibrant self. when a bag is thrown her away, it quickly slips into the pocket of her coat, and she seems to draw a breath of relief. her entire demeanor relaxes, becomes a little less rigid, a little more soft. “ see —– lovely. couldn’t you just have done that to begin with? “

   mundungus isn’t a particularly power-hungry individual, but knowing that people depend on you is still a rather exciting thing. he supposes that everyone searches for things like that: little pieces of evidence that your role on earth had use. that his happens to be supplying people with stimulants and other drugs was something he didn’t think shameful. “daisy, a liar? c’mon now.” he shakes his head at the mention of his friend -- one of few. “either way, what’s so bad about lying a little, ‘specially when it’s about the likes of me.” lips curl into a grin, body language never tensing up throughout the conversation. he’s glad rita’s quick, that she slips the bag in her coat so easily --- some of his customers aren’t half as handy. “because you’re more fun when you’re a bit on edge, skeets.”

#; * ! rita ( chat. ) ; #; * ! rita ( 001. ) ;

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#; * ! alisa ( tbd. ) ; #fuck off : D

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alecto‌:

    Alecto’s eyes studied the deserted alley cautiously, pupils glimmering under the dim light of the distant torches along the walls. With a stoic expression and an unfazed facade, the brunette reached into her robes’ pocket and withdrew her wand, tip pointed at the remotest corner at the other end of the corridor; with a swift flick of her wrist, she cast her a successful silent spell on the fire burning furthest away from her. The flame swirled on its own axis for a brief moment before vanishing, a proud, sly smirk curving the woman’s lips upward, her eyes still focused on the now dark point in the distance. “Bloody brilliant,” she flattered herself in a low voice, twisting her wand between her fingers confidently.

Mundungus felt most alive in the dark. It was when he was most invisible, when he could move the most quietly. He worked in the dark, moving stolen cauldrons from one place to another, nicking expensive necklaces from muggle shop windows and meeting other people, as shady as him. And when he didn’t work, he roamed streets, finding comfort in the silence and the sound of his boots, and the way his highs felt better when the world was a little darker. He’d stopped trying to be sober, when the news of that damned list had hit, his body too tight with stress for him to not move around with something in his system. That night, he was pretty gone, his body filled with a new potion that he wanted to bring to the market. When he saw someone literally playing with fire, he could only watch in awe. “Holy shit, dude,” he muttered, when he heard a voice. “Do that again --- that was brilliant.”

#; * ! alecto ( 001. ) ; #; * ! alecto ( chat. ) ; #mundungus? a mess

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gareth:

“not particularly, no,” gareth admitted, chuckling.  “i mean, i suppose he looks young as much as someone can look young at eighty, but … ”  he trailed off with a shrug.  “ — sure.  that’s certainly a name for him.  i guess mundungus is rather hard to forget how to pronounce once you learn it, isn’t it?”

“he looks younger than old dumbles, and he’s around eighty, isn’t he? i don’t even know. am shit at guessing ages. for all i know, you’re either fourteen or forty.” he was rambling, somewhat joking, and his shoulders shrugged. “oh, absolutely, and still people resort to calling me dung. me mum cursed me, i swear to merlin.”

#; * ! gareth ( 001. ) ; #; * ! gareth ( chat. ) ;

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marlene‌:

❝ calm down, darling, don’t make a scene ❞ not noticing the glass her company has ordered in for himself she waves to a waiter for a bottle for them to share. enjoying the little game the two created between them. a welcome breeze of normalcy and the way the journalist leaned closer meant that they were listening eagerly. ❝ we’ve talked about this ❞ she chids, hand gently touching his over the table. ❝ monogamy is a farce. ❞ 

“don’t make a scene?,” he exclaims, slamming his hand on the table, feeling that in reality, marlene wouldn’t mind a scene. “you’re breaking my heart, marlene --- how can i not make a scene?” it’s fun, to use his natural skill in deception and pretense for something this lighthearted. besides, he’s always wanted his name to be featured in witch weekly. he pulls back his hand when she touches his. “i don’t care about that ... i just want you.”

#; * ! marlene ( chat. ) ; #; * ! marlene ( 002. ) ;

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task 007: wardrobe.

mundungus’ clothing style is a clusterfuck and i dont get it.

basically?? he likes funky prints. rly enjoys flowery shirts, tbh, and no one knows why? it’s just. nice. theyre fun when youre stoned out of your mind as well lmao.

usually wears his doc martens, which are super worn out, but will resort to wearing his other pair of shoes, which are his sneakers when he needs to be sneaky, as theyre more quiet.

got a second hand ugly af windbreaker one time and hasnt been able to part with it and he loves it. first pic.

he sometimes steals fancy af clothes off purebloods like that nice embroidered jacket.

The Coat ™ is iconic and was also stolen off a pureblood. like. i got it off pinterest and it was like multiple thousands of dollars so the hc was born that The Coat ™ was stolen. it’s real fancy and real worn out. he’s got a few enlarged pockets, in which he basically stores everything. from his drugs to his second pair of shoes to his shitty windbreaker to his art supplies to his money and his comb.

we love the coat. i love the coat. mundungus sleeps under this coat at the world cup in ‘94 after he propped it up on sticks. its multifunctional!!!!!

#maraudrshq:tasks

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marlene:

she shouldn’t be surprised by his antics, but she is. perfectly sculptured brow raised quizzically at his innuendos and obvious attention to the journalist close by. BUT she doesn’t deny the rumours mundungus’ gives flourish too. instead, a smile soon spread over her lips as she sips her champagne. ❝ mundungus, we’ve been over this. i am not a one man kind of gal. ❞ a soft blow made with a smirk. his behaviour only causing amusement within her and a thankful thought given as he helps her keep her cover waterproof. no one could find out who her true secret was. it could mean the end of both. 

he lets his lips curl in the slightest of grins when she plays along, and he orders a glass of champagne for himself ( assuming she will pay --- she’s the rich one, after all ). “that isn’t what you said the other night, marlene,” he says, not caring if he comes off as desperate to the journalist. mundungus’ reputation isn’t the most important thing, not when it comes to these things. “or were you lying?” he amps up the desperation, amused by the dramatics they’re both bringing to the table. “am i not enough?”

#dssfkjsdfh wrkejs mundungus is such a dfkwur #im laughing this is so sTUPid #; * ! marlene ( 002. ) ; #; * ! marlene ( chat. ) ;

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rita:

her margarita remains untouched in front of her, and she watches him from underneath thick eyelashes, blinking slowly against the dim light. appearing a little out of it, a little lost. “what loss?” she replies, pretending like she doesn’t UNDERSTAND, that she doesn’t fully understand what he means. because surely, this isn’t what their relationship is like, what it has come to. “i’ve never been better. why?”

“i’ve lost colleagues too, ya know.” he’s not sure if he’s talking to fellow criminals, friends of his dad, who’d died on the job and he didn’t care about, or benjy and sturgis. “it sucks.” eyes glide over rita’s face, and mundungus wonders if he’s the more sober one of the two. that’d be a FIRST.  he doesn’t want to probe -- that’s not his thing, that isn’t their thing -- and so he raises his hands in defense. “just being polite and all.” mundungus fletcher, polite? bullshit.

#; * ! rita ( chat. ) ; #; * ! rita ( 003. ) ; #death tw

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gareth:

“ah, well.  suppose that makes me feel a little better.”  gareth chuckled, cocking his head at the next comment.  “it was a joke, mostly.  grandfather’s shop, actually.  my dad’s mostly the business guy but … we’re really here thanks to gramps.”  he couldn’t help but smile proudly whenever he talked about his grandpa.  “gregorovitch?  yeah, that’s a hard pass.  we’re all better off.”

“everyone’s a bit absentminded these days, eh? causes a lot of bump-ins,” he says, shrugging a little. “grandfather, right. he just looks so young that one, doesn’t he?” mundungus had, in all fairness, forgotten about the ollivander family dynamics --- it wasn’t his specialty to remember such things. “gregorobitch, right, right. what a sucker of a name, that guy has. i mean, i’m not too lucky, but at least people can pronounce my name, right?”

#i honestly have no clue what he's talking about he's so messy #; * ! gareth ( 001. ) ; #; * ! gareth ( chat. ) ;

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bellatrix:

    her nail tears at his skin, digging into his neck. still refusing to break eye contact, forcing him to look at her. “ i’m sure you are, “ she replies, amusement in her tone, but the same darkness still apparent in her eyes. it almost gives away how close she is to killing, how he’s on the brink of death. how little self control she really has. “ i didn’t have to break in. contrary to you, i’m supposed to be here, “ she says, her voice softening, becoming lowered. almost like she’s talking to a child. quickly noticing how he’s about to flee. “ actually, my friends are coming here too, in a bit. surely they’d love to meet you…. so i wouldn’t do that if i were you. “ hand moves from his neck and instead grips around his wrist.

fuck. she has friends coming, notices how he reaches for his wand, practically has him in her claws. mundungus feels his heart beat against his chest, wonders if this is where he’ll die --- because of bad timing, because of a dumb mistake. “i kinda have ‘nough friends already, so i’m good, really,” he says, still managing to feign some kind of nonchalance. he sees no ways out of this besides talk --- physically and magically, the other could easily beat him, and he has no chance of getting to his wand, with her nails digging in the skin of his wrist. “besides, i’d hate to bother them, ya know? so maybe ... you can let me out of here, before they come, and i owe you one? like i said, i’m handy.” he’s good at striking deals and not following up on them ( he’s been running from a bunch of goblins for about two years now ), and he gives the other a slight grin. “anything you want.”

#; * ! bellatrix ( 002. ) ; #; * ! bellatrix ( chat. ) ;

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alice:

alice notices the way he startles ever so slightly, but she sits anyway, figuring they could both use the company. “the meetings are exhausting, i don’t blame you. i feel like all this information and planning is just going straight over my head at this point.” she almost laughs, but it was getting harder and harder to concentrate, especially when there was a small human constantly kicking at her stomach. but she would spare him the details.  “same as you, honestly. felt like i should be here instead. i kinda felt useless just sitting at home waiting for something to happen, y’know ?” she glances at him as she shuffles over to the refreshments table, beginning the preparation for tea. her hands move over the instruments carefully, almost mechanically at this point, as she speaks.  “i was actually coming in here to take a nap, believe it or not. but then i realized - i can rest after the baby is born.” it’s unlikely that would be the case but it’s something alice kept telling herself, an excuse to continue spreading herself too thin in times of need. “are you doing okay ?” she pours the hot water into two mugs, steam filling the air as she carries them back to the table, nudging one towards him.  

“it’s so much information, and so recently after ...” he doesn’t finish his sentence, clears his throat a little. “not that that means that we should take a breather, of course --- we need to be more active. but it’s hard, ya know? to focus. anyway, i’m just tryin’ to retain the shit that i need to remember.” mundungus was usually scatterbrained, but these days? his mind barely felt like his own, now that it was so much more often in a sober state. “yeah, and i figure it’s better to be in a central place, with the others, if something were to go down, ya know?” mundungus feels himself calm a little as he speaks, alice’s presence always a calming force. he’s not much of a talker, usually, but as he’s not dulling his mind, he has to deal with it in other ways --- normal ones. “alice, you deserve a nap. you ... you’re like bursting, man. we can nap together, i won’t tell on ya.” if he was pregnant ( which was something very unlikely to happen ), he’d be using it as an excuse to take some time off for sure. the fact that alice wasn’t, made him respect her only more. “yeah, yeah, i’m fine. just trying to stay clear headed and stuff.” sober, he means. “it’s all a mess, innit?”

#; * ! alice ( 001. ) ; #; * ! alice ( chat. ) ;

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james:

“ soldiers don’t enjoy war, “ he says, but the smile on his lips tells a different story. missions that make his blood pump are like a high to him, a drug that he is dangerously addicted to. it’s what he keeps coming back to, no matter what. one day, it might be his undoing. smile shifts into something more mischievous, becoming a little lopsided, grin widening ever so slightly. it’s almost as if he has forgotten what the meaning of war is —– what horrors they’re truly facing. maybe it’s because he grew up in it. has never known anything else. groomed to be a soldier from the day the war began. “ but will you come along, next time? promise to have your back. if you got mine.”

“then what’re ya smiling at, potts? my gorgeous face? i mean -- i wouldn’t blame ya, i’m a damn looker, but it just ... doesn’t seem like the time to admire this whole thing, right?,” he asks, gesturing at his face with a wiggling finger. he doesn’t get the way james seems to be grinning, the way he seems to be running on a high. mundungus isn’t big on adrenaline and risking his life: he prefers sneaky jobs, and doing them on his own. but he wants to do more for the order, and so he shrugs. “sure, sure, i’ll see how being all soldier-y fits me. always got yer back, though, and those of the others --- that goes without saying, doesn’t it? kind of our whole thing, to have people’s backs.”

#; * ! james ( chat. ) ; #; * ! james ( 002. ) ;