#survivor au tbt

[serialreporter]

" Wouldn't do that if I were you, " The journalist warned lowly. Honestly, he doesn't know why he even bothers. Half the people in this place clearly didn't have what it took to outwit the killer. That said... his chances of survival depended on them, much to Danny's displeasure. He shrugged his shoulders, turning away from the generator. " You get that thing running, and you're locking us all into a dead zone. C'mon, follow me. " And he promptly started moving towards the killer's last known location.

[roseguidedarc]

@chrmatiica ASKED,   “ 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒆? “ / 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒚

        𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒, && 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄   a little when brain comprehended it.   body relaxes as best as it can against hospital bed,  all of the tubes && wires having been removed since waking from the medical coma.   a entire month had passed since she last opened her eyes && she had no idea . . . the camp nightwing massacre was still fresh news, but seemed to be fading.  parents mourn their children, they ask why && yet no one has   𝙰𝙽𝚂𝚆𝙴𝚁𝚂   for them.   (  && they never will.  no one will know the truth,  not the truth she knows.  she’ll let it die, cindy’ll bury it inside of herself. . try && move on.  )     ;      brows draw together slightly, a breath taken into her worn lungs as hand instantly reaches out for his. a gentle squeeze is given to tommy’s hand,    ❝ why would you say something like that?  ❞  asked cindy, voice still a little hoarse.   tears prick her eyes, blurring vision just slightly as head gives a little shake:   ❝  i could never hate you , tommy.  what happened. . it- . . it wasn’t   𝔂𝓸𝓾.  that person could-could never be you. ❞   because she knew who he was⸺that parts she loved about him, the parts of him that loved her or made her feel like everything was alright were still there !   it’s evidence enough of just how often he stayed by herself, in how he looks at her now.   so much guilt for something not of his own accord.   ❝  i know who you are, thomas slater.  you’re sweet && you’re kind.  you’re the best person i’ve ever known. ❞   cindy smiles at him, warmly.  

[schmdts]

cαηση   ᵒᶰᵉˡᶤᶰᵉʳ   𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍,   accepting.             @judyblumed​.​

❛   i’m   getting   out   of   here.   off   to   𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑚   𝑚𝑦   𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒   among   the   STARS,   bitch.   ❜

[toujoursfleurea]

semi-plotted starter  ╳ SIRIUS BLACK ( @fullofaces )

╳                         Oh, but Narcissa hates this house; how she despises Number Twelve Grimmauld Place! The blonde still isn’t certain what has possessed her to come here, the copy of the Prophet and Sirius’ crumpled face still clutched in her hand as she passes her wand over the twisted silver serpent that adorns the front door. It doesn’t even occur to her that she won’t be allowed in; that the Black blood flowing through her veins isn’t as potent as ever despite her marriage. No, this house - and all the other Black properties - had a way of calling to the blood, of drawing one in with the intention of keeping them there forever. It was positively suffocating.

Pale fingertips trail along the wall of the long hallways, catching here and there on the peeling paint and the decaying frames of her ancestor’s portraits. The blonde cannot say that there isn’t something poetic about the rot that has taken over the place, a ghost of its former glory. She also cannot say that it doesn’t hurt to see it this way, no matter her hatred or the bitter memories that swirl in the depths of her stomach. If she remembered what it was to cry, she might have recognized the stinging in her eyes.

Narcissa doesn’t speak, lest she rouses one of her many painted family members out of their slumber. None of them are the ghosts and shades that have brought her here, none of them really matter anymore. Instead, she quietly makes her way to the drawing-room, mind whirring and alive with memories of holidays and family gatherings past. It is hard to believe that at one time laughter had, in fact, filled this room despite it all. If she squints hard enough she can still see them all - Bella, Meda, Sirius, and dear, sweet little Regulus - the last time they were together.

The witch sniffs, impatient with herself, as she turns her head harshly away. This time her gaze falls on Aunt Walburga’s prized tapestry, feet carrying her the short distance to the ugly thing. She hesitates for a moment - fingers curling mid-air - before touching the wretched tree. Fingertips trail over the branches, gathering dust and the soot of charred family members along the way. She pauses on the hole where her sister used to be, the memory like a phantom pain...a knife twisting in her gut. If only she had left with Andromeda then, or even Sirius when he too had asked the same.

What good had come from staying for the sake of family when there was no family left?

❝ You know, I distinctly remember you swearing that you’d never come back. ❞ She doesn’t need to turn around to know that he is there. In any case, she can’t bring herself to look at him just yet. Not when she’s been caught in such a rare moment of vulnerability. ❝ Trading one prison for another, are we Sirius? ❞

[magtitude]

✿ + if Lorna hadn't died??

au headcanon thingy | accepting | @mrbisected

OH BOY–

Sole survivor verse. ( At least for this set of headcanons. )

Lorna would’ve been absolutely ridden with guilt, remembering very little of what actually happened to her friends, but covered in blood and sluggishly-bleeding scars. ( A lot like Danny in canon, really. )

She would withdraw for a while from everyone, especially under the weight of guilt and the questions from everyone, especially relatives of her friends, about what happened. Even worse if they don’t believe that she doesn’t remember.

Kind of, sort of reconnects with her twin brother, Alastair, at some point, when she starts to recover as best she can.

She also contemplates going into the movie business – probably editing rather than acting; she was into both before The Incident, but would take editing for relative anonymity. More than likely, she would not work with anything that is based on a ‘true story’ for her own peace of mind.

There may be a point in time, sometime down the line, where her dead friends come back, angry and grieving for the loss of their own lives and the things they’d faced.

Might still meet Kenny after that, and be like, when / if she finds out he’s dead, “oh shit you’re dead as well? D: I’m so sorry my dude.”

Surviving with Danny ( @luckcursed ) AU, however…

Getting out of the place with Danny only to be met with the same hostility and suspicion by everyone else.

While retreating from everyone else – this includes Danny; they may end up parting ways, at least for the time being.

A little further down the line, they may end up working on the same film projects.

[shininglions-a]

* tags ! 

[flyingupward-a]

@glorixna​ said: ❤️- For a secret crush

       ❝ my lady.... i...i have something to tell you, and i hope it won’t upset you too greatly or cause you much distress. i know it’s not necessarily proper, but kat and i have become rather... ❞ the former queen cleared her throat, searching valiantly for the right words. FUNNY, how a woman who prided herself on her writing now couldn’t think of a thing to say. ❝ we’ve grown closer. rather...intimately. i realize this puts you in a rather odd position, and if you’d rather i find lodgings elsewhere, i’ll understand. but we both care about you too much to keep this A SECRET from you. ❞

[the-irish-mayhem]

Oooooooooooh, you have some sw fic outlines. Please, please tell me! I'd love to know.

Oh jeebus. I have a lot of them. While I was reading over these again/condensing for purposes of the ask, I realized the reason I probably haven’t finished any of them is because they’re all so plot-heavy and god knows when I start writing something with plot it’s gonna end up AT LEAST 20k.

I put this under a cut because it got long and apparently I am having lots of Star Wars feelings tonight and because I love you anon :D

A) There was the one Clone Wars-era fic where I literally created an entire race of aliens inhabiting a small planet not unlike Hoth and their entire culture was based off of ice carving. Like, they had massive ice cities and ice sculptures and stuff and there were whole celebrations and coming-of-age ceremonies related to ice carving, and even the prefixes of their names had to do with their specific family tradition of carving/where they were from because that influences their style of carving. for some godforsaken reason the separatists hone in and start terraforming the place to be warmer/melt the ice (I say ‘for some godforsaken reason’ but the actual reason is because in its liquid form, this ice isn’t water, it’s some sort of valuable starship fuel [this gives the ice unique properties, and figures into carving traditions, and makes it more hardy than normal ice]) and even though this is one of the good ol Neutral Systems, the Republic gets word of this and is like ‘well shit, we can’t let the Seps get all that fuel’ and Padmé Amidala is sent as a diplomatic emissary (partly because her coalition fought for it, but also because in the back of her mind she knows what it’s like to have your peaceful planet invaded by those who want to exploit it and so she packs like her whole arsenal of blasters because she may be a pacifist in theory, but she’s also fucking pissed.) Padmé also sees an opportunity when the Senate requests she accept Jedi protection on this mission, and she humbly suggests Jedi Knight Skywalker and Padawan Tano accompany her, because they have worked together in the past and will mesh more smoothly with her own security. Cue the shenanigans, with Anakin and Padmé poorly concealing their relationship from Ahsoka, political trickery and corruption, fighting Separatists, aggressive negotiations, and the Republic wins the day.

B) With his padawan gone and his legion falling apart in the waning months of the Clone Wars, Anakin Skywalker wonders what will come after. Or, the Chosen One ponders peacetime. Set post-Fives’ death. (A look at how Anakin feels about losing the people he trusts the most. He 100% has a conversation with Rex about it. Address the “nightmares” Fives mentioned. Talk about clones as “property” and what will come after. Bonding over it.) first line: Fives’ last words stick in Anakin’s head like an itch he can’t scratch. It’s a flutter, a prod in the Force that he can’t understand. (also like. yo. if this turned into a multichapter, imagine Anakin and Rex prodding at this issue and the plot starts to unravel and after like 8 chapters of misdirections Anakin realizes the Chancellor is behind this and yo. YOO.)

C) Fives shoots the probe droid off his back. Everything changes. I have a lot of feelings about this Clone Wars episode cLeArLy and also come on Fives isn’t a shiny he’d KNOW he was being followed. Anakin and Rex are drawn into Fives’ investigation. Anakin is leery, but in the end, much like the previous fic, they unravel the web and everybody lives! (or at least most of them do)

D) Anakin and Obi-wan crash land on a Separatist-occupied planet. Anakin is severely injured because no one can ever legally say I don’t love Anakin-whump, and Obi-wan mother-hens and is trying to keep this idiot alive and it’s part survival, part thriller (because they gotta avoid the Separatists and keep it way on the DL that they’re Jedi), and lots of whump. Ideally, this fic ends in a catharsis moment that, down the line, will lead to Anakin NOT falling to the Dark Side, but I DIGRESS.

E) So, there comes a Breaking Point™ and Anakin leaves the Jedi Order, and Padmé leaves the Senate. Maybe the kids came early, and it just became ardently clear to both of them that Luke and Leia were their priority, and they both just dip outta Courascant and fuck off to Naboo to live happily ever after….kinda. They both love their kids, but they both feel guilty for leaving. (Oh, and Aunt Ahsoka comes to visit, because she left the Order and she and Anakin stayed in touch and it gave him another person who wasn’t Palpy to lean on outside the Order. Uncle Obi-wan also drops in from time to time, when he’s on leave.) So yeah, they both feel guilty, Padmé still teleconferences with Bail and Mon, consults on bills and proposals; Anakin still offers advice to Obi-wan, battle plans (and here Obi-wan would laugh because Anakin when do you ever stick to a plan.) and they both generally just keep up with what’s happening in the Republic because they’re SO DESPERATE to know that everything would be fine without them. And then it becomes very VERY evident that things are NOT all right when Palpatine moves forward with his plans, executes Order 66, and shit is just CHAOS. Idk if he like…. sends some people for Luke and Leia on Naboo, because in this outline I hadn’t decided how much he knows about their departures from their positions/their marriage/the twins, but anyway when he declares himself Emperor and the Jedi have been nearly wiped out, Anakin and Padmé know they can’t just sit idly by. So they both become Rebel leaders, building the Rebellion to what we know it as in A New Hope. Anakin, Obi-wan, and Ahsoka all try to suss out where the surviving Jedi are, all while evading Palpy’s Sith agents. It’s clear Palpatine still wants to turn Anakin. Padmé runs things politically along with Bail and Mon’s help, building a galactic support network. The twins are brought up on Rebel bases, learning the ways of the Jedi from all the survivors, not just a single master. (Though, if they were to get particular about it, Leia is Ahsoka’s padawan, and Luke is Obi-wan’s. The latter was accepted with some grumbling One Skywalker was enough for several lifetimes but changing his tune when Luke turns out a lot more like Padmé than Anakin.) They don’t ever plan on having more kids–life in the Rebellion is stressful and not to mention dangerous, but as these things go, there’s a whoops and there’s now a third Skywalker child when Luke and Leia are in their mid-teens. Boy or girl, I’m not sure. If it’s a boy, they name him Jinn Skywalker (because tbt to that fake vision Vader had in Lost Command) and if it’s a girl? I don’t know. I don’t think it would be Shmi. Padmé 1000000% suggests it, but Anakin says he doesn’t think so. Anyway. Lots of spying and battling and military-ing and propaganda-ing and politicking and lightsaber dueling and Rebels winning later, the Empire is defeated! (Probably after a hella intense battle between Anakin and Palpatine, or his Apprentice of the Week, and Luke and/or Leia have to be there to help him and ground him maybe? Don’t know for sure but it would be TENSE.) Luke and Leia are in their early twenties, Jinn/not-Shmi is ten-ish? Timelines. But they did it! They beat the Empire!

F) This one is sparse, but like…. what if Cleigg freed Shmi and Anakin before Padmé and company found them? Or they just don’t find them until Anakin is a moody teenager, but now with Better Emotional Control because he wasn’t raised a Jedi, and has a loving family? So basically he kind of teaches himself how to use the Force, because he literally has such an intense unconscious connection to it. Eventually Someone Comes™ but I don’t know who this would be or what their reason would be, but I mostly wanted a reason for Owen to be Salty™ that Anakin left the farm. Because in this fic they would be proper brothers, ok. Also, Anakin wins a shit ton of pod-races and becomes semi-famous on Tatooine for being the only human to win not only one race, but a fuckin BUNCH.

G) Your classic Anakin-Gets-Thrown-Forward-In-Time

H) Your classic Luke and Leia-Get-Thrown-Back-In-Time

G) Not sure if this counts, but there’s like…….a massive Star Wars/Avengers Fusion AU that I’ve got going on. I’ve written like… thousands of words for it. Steve is a Jedi, trained by Jedi Master Peggy Carter. His best friend, former Padawan Bucky Barnes fell to the Dark Side after being captured by an enemy (either Separatists or Empire, but I’m thinking Separatists), but Steve still believes that Bucky can be saved/doesn’t believe his falling was purposeful. Cue Jedi rhetoric about falling to the Dark Side, and Steve goes rogue and tracks down Natasha Romanoff, a former Jedi-turned-Sith assassin-turned-bounty hunter whose wise-cracking, flyboy partner goes by the name Hawkeye and is allegedly the best shot in the galaxy. Nick Fury is Mace Windu but with an eyepatch and more justice given to his story. Thor is the prince of some rich planet in the Core (or maybe Mandalore) who was found to be extremely Force-sensitive as an infant, but his powerful family covered it up in his medical records so he wouldn’t be noticed by the Jedi. Jane Foster is a Jedi healer who kind of finds him out.

These are just the ones I have google docs for; this isn’t even counting all the notebooks that definitely have plot-bunnies written in them.

[erchommainothere]

“i will shoot you if you try to escape.”

threat sentence starters.

          The threat echoes throughout the empty hall, cells lined up with shadows and unoccupied spaces save for one. His voice is loud and even ; no tremor in his words to provide any hint of hesitation and for a flicker of a moment he sees HIS ALEXANDER and not Alec. Not the boy he had stolen away but the man he had honed into his weapon. His right hand. His lover. 

           GUILT LASHES OUT AT HIM LOUDLY for the thought; constricting throat and shoulders and spine where he sat back against the wall and legs stretched behind him. He considers, stupidly and irrationally, for a moment how easier this would be if he’d just stand up and do just that. Green eyes boring into silhouette of arrow raised with flames dancing behind him –– and then the protruding darkness of marred skin and unheavenly runes. His corruption of a good man. 

            Where there was once pride, now lingers only suffocating blame and he sees now why his fire burns brighter than the flames of the torch. His anger so visceral now he would have applauded it if his own hadn’t been extinguished in his death and resurrection. All the angels have left him is lungs to breathe with and nothing else. Too human to even process the humanity they had shoved back into him without permission; a second chance to suffer through the repercussion of MADNESS his father had passed onto him; of cruelty LILITH had entrust upon his shoulders; of RUTHLESSNESS his mother didn’t even know she’d left. 

           “ I know you will. “ But he won’t try. He can’t leave even if the loneliness that throbs in him so severely prompts him to with each passing seconds; even if the bars and the darkness reminds him more of HOME than the outside world. Because Jonathan doesn’t have anything, no where to run to and nowhere to hide. Grip tighten on the frame of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor as he pulled himself up; launching himself towards the bars that ring lightly from his weight when hands wrap around them. “ Do it. They’ll be taking your arm away aren’t they, Alexander? You’ll be human again after today. No longer bound to a man that has ruined you. Do it. The world will not blame you. “

@dnteverdoubtme

[roseguidedarc]

@chrmatiica ASKED,  [ 𝑷𝑼𝑳𝑳 ] :   𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. / 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒚

          𝐈𝐓’𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋, 𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐃  moved out of shadyside into her new house.   a house she && tommy share, a house that they plan to build a family in.   she stands in her future && nothing had ever felt more  𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃   than this moment . . than the last six months of her life.��   (  after nightwing, cindy had doubted if she’d ever be able to have what she wanted.   if she’d be able to move on,  but thankfully, with the help of her sister && tommy, she’d begun to accept everything/move forward.   )    the pair of them had decided to watch a movie together, unwind from a long day before going to bed.  cindy had been cuddled up to tommy’s side, eyes trained on whatever he’d picked out.  getting up to get something to drink one moment && the kiss planted on his lips had turned into   𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖊𝖑𝖘𝖊.    her kiss lingered, pulling away only lean forward once more . . the encouragement of tommy’s hand on her back pulling her closer only fueling the sudden spike in desire dwelling inside her chest !    it’d always been there, she remembers even from camp days. . . she wanted to give herself over to him, but things got so   𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝   up && it’d never been the right time.     ;      [  no one had made her feel as safe && comfortable as tommy had.  cindy had never thought of going further than kissing with any of her other boyfriend,  yet tommy had been the exception.   her heart wanted him, had him,  && apparently so did her body.  ]    body shifts until she’s laying on her back, still fully clothed, as hands remain connected to either side of tommy’s face enough to bring him on top of her.  kisses have grown more intense by the minute,  breath warm against his skin when she has to pry herself away for breath:    ❝  i want you. ❞   holds a new meaning this time,    ❝  i’m . . i’m ready for this, if you are.  i want you in every way i can have you . . another way to show you i love you. ❞   && what’s more natural than   𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰  your body with the person you love?

[roseguidedarc]

       𝐈𝐓’𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑:  𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋.    volume is raised, cindy feeling like her stomach had fallen through the floor . . off to the side her six year old plays without a care in the world.  nick goode stands beside reporter, speaking on the subject,  && cindy swears her ears are ringing.   it’s happening again, it’s happening again, it’s happening- . . . . mind immediately snaps to her sister,  concern filling her chest like it had that entire night in 1978.   it felt like a   𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭  𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂    once,  but it seemed to be rushing forward at top speed again.   the curse strikes again . . seven might be dead now,  but it won’t stop there.  remote is sat down,  hand coming to touch against the crown of her sons head:   ❝  stay here, jordan.  mommy needs to call someone. ❞     ;      body moves away from boy toward the kitchen where phone resides on back wall leading to the garage.   shaky hands take hold of phone, fingers punching numbers as quick as she can manage.   chest tightens,  cindy tries to take calming breaths.    ❝  pick up, pick up.  c’mon, ziggy!  ❞   another agonizing few seconds alter of waiting with bated breath,  the phone’s answered.   cindy doesn’t even give her sister a moment to speak,   ❝  ziggy!   are you alright?  have you seen the news?  what-what happened at the shadyside mall has made national news. . ❞   / @survivedhim​   gets a cindy berman starter  + survivor verse !

[roseguidedarc]

@checksider​ ASKED,    ❛ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖. ❜ / 𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒚

          𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒? 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃?   nothing is timeless about a traumatized girl, about someone who’d been through something no one should ever && managed to survive despite it.   jennifers remark makes the berman woman try && stifle a very bitter laugh, the movement of her chest still causing slight aching from healed over scar.   (  that scar is her only reminder that any of it was real && not one big nightmare.  then again, wasn’t it a   𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙴   regardless?   come morning dozens of dead children lay about camp grounds, slaughtered && cold.  their blood soaks into the earth, leaving a wicked mark.  those who survived, cindy && ziggy alone, will bear that night in mind for the rest of their lives !  )     ;      ❝ timeless isn’t the word i’d use, jennifer. ❞   says cindy as her legs are tucked back against chest, back rested against chair propped up to drawn curtains.   the leaves pale now, fall time settled into the bones of the world as if what happened was in the distant past.   camp nightwing is fading from the minds of those not effected && she can’t help but feel a little bitter about it.   they get to move on, cindy can’t.     ❝  i’ll never forget that night.  i still remember the screams, the-the bod- . . ❞  sentence trails, eyes closed momentarily.  ❝  it’s seared into my memory . . i’ll never get rid of my guilt for   𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌. ❞   face turns away from the other to gaze out window.

[roseguidedarc]

        𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄 𝐓𝐎  𝐑𝐔𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌, 𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐏𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑.  𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄,  an old black && white show is overpowered by national news taking its place.  a reporter stands outside of what appears to be a grocery store, solemn expression taking over painted, young features.  eyes glance up momentarily in interest, brows pulling together slightly as cindy notices the array of police men, the yellow tape, the body bags being carted out of front doors for all to see.   another plate is sat aside on the driving rack to her left, last one being grasped between fingers to start the cycle all over again.  a male’s voice over takes the reporter now, sheriff  of whatever town this supposed   𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙳𝚈   had occurred in:      ❝  we’re here with sheriff nick goode of the shadyside police. sheriff, can you tell us what happened last night? ❞      ;      as ears pick up on the name uttered, the town finally listed, cindy suddenly freezes.   blood runs cold, eyes fixated on plate nestled in her hands as chest tights.   widened eyes are quick to shoot upwards at the tv, body moving on its own as she ‘rounds the corner to stand in open area between living room && kitchen.   it’d been nearly   𝓼𝓲𝔁𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷   𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼   since camp nightwing, sixteen years since she’d even thought of that night at camp.  the same night she was butchered,  but managed to survive . . the same night that she, her sister, && tommy were hauled off to the hospital with nothing but dead children surrounding them !      ❝ . . . two shadyside teenagers, kate && simon, were murdered last night.  it appeared to be some sort of drug deal gone wrong.  ❞    gentle gasp leaves cindy’s lips, the plate in her hand is dropped && shatters at her feet.    hand comes to hover over her mouth,   ❝  oh my god⸺  ❞  / @mahssacres​   gets that wishlist starter i promised 

[toujoursfleurea]

✉ ➟ @faultyconscience sent:

∟     “ what’s holding you back in life ?”

 a c c e p t i n g  ✓ ✓ ✓   DRUNKEN CONFESSION TIME

╳                          His question causes her to pause, brows furrowing as she stares down at her own murky reflection in the drink she holds between her pale hands. For all intents and purposes, she was a woman who had nothing that she felt she could justifiably complain about. She had wealth, fine things, and - most important of all - a beautiful, brilliant son whom she would move heaven and earth for with only minimal prompting. As a Malfoy there was nothing that she couldn’t buy if she wanted it; as a Black, there was nothing that could frighten her or stand in her way.

But what about Narcissa?

❝ I don’t like this line of questioning, ❞ she warns before finishing her drink, the fire quickly coating her throat as she stands to get a little movement - something, anything - going to fight the anxious, pent-up feeling suddenly plaguing her. Oh, but it was easier to live her life without too much introspection or deep diving into the closet of monsters, ghosts, and old bones that kept her awake at night! Had it been anyone asking she might have simply scoffed and walked away without so much as a by your leave - a drink or two before or a drink or two more and she might have hexed him. 

She holds up her left-hand wordlessly as she paces about like a caged animal, Lucius Malfoy’s ring a lovely little shackle on her finger. It was as good a symbol of her captivity as any; of her past, the things and people she had lost along the way. ( Bellatrix had been the greater loss...even before her sister, her cousin, and her husband were locked away in Azkaban, a piece of herself - her very soul - lost to madness and mania just as Andromeda had been lost to her through stupid pride. ) Without her son - even without the unlikely companionship she’d built with Remus - Narcissa was alone and mostly isolated from the rest of the world. 

Not that she cared about other people, not at all. But it certainly did limit the scope of things she could do on her own when she was constantly being defined by sins and actions that were not wholly her own. Narcissa was constantly allowing her past and the past of her family to cloud the future.

This was the curse of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black - they were all of them stupid, mad, incredibly cruel and remarkably self-sabotaging! 

❝ I don’t - ❞ The confession is right there on the tip of her tongue and she stops her pacing long enough to look Remus in the eye. For a brief moment - a small glimmer in time - she allows herself not to be some pillar of strength or some unfeeling marble creature chiseled by the hands of others. A sigh escapes her as she rolls her shoulders helplessly. ❝ I don’t know how to do anything for myself. ❞ 

And she didn’t mean that she wasn’t capable of living on her own or making it in the great wide world. That was absurd and she most certainly was better at surviving than the average witch or wizard. She meant that she’d spent so much of her life living for others that she didn’t know - she couldn’t fathom - what it meant to do something solely, selfishly for herself anymore.