cygnvsblvck-blog

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avgvstvs‌:

When Cygnus’ hand dropped from his shoulder, Augustus realized just how cold he’d been. It was as if, ever since the fire, he could no longer stay properly warm. But Cygnus still felt like a furnace. One Augustus wanted close, wanted the flames to lick across his skin. To hold him and chase the chill away from his bones, and the fear from his shaking fingers. But it wasn’t a desire he allowed himself to voice. He wanted to reach out a hand and run it underneath layers of fabric. Skin on skin. Fire and ice. Close in both their shared experience and in the shadows of the alleyway. 

No. He pushed the thoughts away and buried them deep, choosing instead to lean back against the wall (solid, safe) and shrug his shoulder with its still-lingering heat, “Something out of this rain, of course. But I was sort of hoping you had a suggestion.” With his mind being pulled in a million different directions on a daily basis, it took a lot to come up with suitable distractions each time they met. And with torture being a little less than appealing now, Augustus kept circling around to thoughts better kept suppressed. 

Reaching out, he almost grasped the front of the man’s coat before letting his hand fall back to his side, hopefully unnoticed in the shadows. Perhaps this meeting was a mistake. He needed to escape, but he needed things he knew he could never request of the elder Black. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t been myself since….” The alcohol in his blood certainly didn’t help him keep his mind straight. To distract himself, or perhaps them both, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, offering it to Cygnus once it had properly singed his lungs (an unwanted, but not exactly uncomfortable reminder of the night of the fire).

To say he didn’t feel their electricity would have been an outright lie. It surged through him solely on touch, raced through his veins, propelled him into actions he wouldn’t have previously taken. This sort of relationship was something he had never experienced before and, quite honestly, one that he utterly wished would end. But nothing would get him to stop seeing Rookwood in their nighttime alleyway meetings, the removal of their masks too delicate to throw away for something as silly as reluctance. And, yes, he was reluctant. Nervous to show weakness, hesitant to reach out and grasp for what he wanted. Truly wanted. Because if he did that, then where could he draw a line? How could they ever stop once they had begun?

That was not to say that he even knew if Augustus had the same dilemma, he just felt that connection. Felt the energy pass between them with every moment, with every second they grazed fingers or met eyes - things that had never seemed to matter before. He knew, without a doubt, that their tension needed eventual release. It was just a matter of how professional they would keep their relations, or who would dare to cross that boundary.

“I like the rain.” He finally admitted tilting his head back to demonstrate how refreshing the mist was. “But eventually it’ll become less fun when we’re drenched.” Thoughts came and went, all unspoken, all ideas of how to turn the night and where they would end up. He spotted the raising hand of his friend, watched it drop back down, wondered if he was also having second thoughts. They both should have left, he knew, but he couldn’t manage to turn away.

Augustus apologizing, losing himself for a moment, reminded Cygnus that they were allowed to be normal together. They could drop their guard. And because of that he closed the gap between them, reached out to wrap a hand tightly around the back of the other man’s neck, and rested his forehead against his friends’. A reminder that they were together in this. He ignored the offered cigarette, aware of just how badly he wanted a drag of it, and instead focused on the feeling of their closeness. It felt comfortable, natural. “I know.” He murmured, the softness of his voice almost foreign to him. “I know. I feel the same. I don’t think we’ll ever be okay again.”

the same damn hunger

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florence-wilson‌:

Florence found herself jumpy around most people. At this point, it was a learned habit to move away from people who sat down next to her, or at least to give them a cold, questioning glare. Nobody was to be trusted. Strangers even less so. And sitting in a park in Wizarding London meant that anyone could come up and sit beside anyone else, leaving Florence to worry not only about the typical undesirables, but also about the myriad of other, more sinister possibilities. It seemed that the person who sat down next to her might’ve been some combination of the two. His exhaustion was apparent. He was blinking rapidly and his hands had a bit of a twitch that he just couldn’t seem to shake. She didn’t mean to stare, of course. But as he curled and uncurled his fingers, seemingly trying to place himself in both time and space, she simply couldn’t help herself. Florence closed her book, cautiously sliding it back into the bag that sat by her feet. She knew this man. She knew him from files Aversio had given her and she knew him from the papers. She knew him from stories told by Sirius Black and she knew him from nightmares that kept her from ever having a full night of sleep. Cygnus Black, the one and only, was sitting beside her in the park. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she offered, though the caring sentiment was only a front. “I’ve been through some training to be a Healer – I can get you some help, if you want. You seemed… disoriented.”

In the park. You are in the park. Beside you is a girl, a woman, and she seems concerned. 

Cygnus Black focused, tilted his head to the side to catch a better sight of her, listened to the small voice in the back of his head. It reminded him that he wasn’t alone, that this was a public spot in the middle of the day, that he couldn’t pull his wand or lose his mind. But how pleasurable would it be to falter? He wished he could crumble into a million pieces, he wished he could remember what it was like to be strong - but the madness was heavy and it settled over him so quickly, so gently. Like a warm blanket on the coldest day. It didn’t occur to him that she would have recognized him, because she was a stranger who happened to be relaxing in public, because he often forgot that his name carried weight, because he was losing himself.

Still, he swallowed back whatever irritation he was feeling, and slowed on the curling of his fingers. It’s a park, Cygnus, people will stare, and then they’ll talk. Then where will you be in the Dark Lord’s eyes? Lower than where you are now.

“No one needs to worry.” He responded sharply, tightening his jaw against the bitterness of his words. “I’m not disoriented. I’m enjoying this beautiful day. In this park. With you, er, who are you?” Cygnus didn’t fully expect her to answer, but he paused in case she would, before moving straight on. “Anyway, yes, we’re enjoying this day together. Getting to know each other. I’m so deeply intrigued by you. Tell me something about yourself.” He knew how creepy he sounded, he knew how abrupt - but part of him found joy in it. Make her squirm, make her nervous, just don’t cause a scene.

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whois-gilderoylockhart‌:

Date: August 2, 1979

Writing Challenge: Biggest Fear

OPEN TO ALL!

Standing before his reflection, Gilderoy Lockhart furrowed his brows and crinkled his face, and rubbed at the lines that consequently showed on his forehead and between his eyes with great concern. “I think all this stress is finally getting to me… I look terrible,” He remarked, disheartened. Then, he paused for a brief moment. “Well, terrible is an exaggeration, but I look at least a year or two older.” He turned to his present company. “I know I don’t usually fish for compliments like this, but I would really appreciate some comforting words right now.”

Forefinger and thumb came up to run gently against the stubble that dotted his jaw and chin, watching as the younger man crinkled and complained, silently wondering how he could keep relationships at all. Cygnus had to admit Lockhart was humorous. It was, perhaps, the only reason he hadn’t made a swift exit. But how he held a decent conversation with anybody was a mystery. “It’s offensive,” He began with a deep sigh. “To know that you think a ‘year or two older’ is such a bad thing. I’ll remind you that I’m twice your age.” He wondered if the tailored suit and straight backed posture that he held even made a difference to his growth, or if he truly looked his age. Forty-one years old and feeling it every day. “So, no, I will not give you comfort. But I’ll tell you that you don’t look any older than what I assume you are.” It was the closest thing to a compliment that he could muster.

war wrinkles | gilderoy&open

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aidan-avery‌:

The Death Eaters were losing ground. They were losing ground and worse, they were losing power. It was fucking disgraceful. Even after Aidan had stolen the Death Eater’s own funds and framed Aversio, they had gained nothing. At least nothing of value, not for long enough that it mattered. It was infuriating. One action after the next was being taken against the Death Eaters and that kind of loss of power simply couldn’t be allowed. Aidan had been doing what Aidan always did to try to resolve it. They’d been going one Death Eater to the next, whispering in ears, enticing them into action. Perhaps it would work, perhaps it wouldn’t, but Aidan wouldn’t stand back and watch it much longer. They hadn’t taken the Dark Mark at fifteen to be on the losing side of the war.

They had been wandering the streets of London for hours trying to drum up action. Honestly, there had been too much peace for too long. They were tired of it. Aidan had been sitting back too long. Maybe the Death Eaters had held power for a short while, but at the very least Aidan themselves hadn’t been able to enterprise on it themselves. Maybe this was the time, when everyone was down and the group was losing power. They would make themselves known and present, place themselves forward as a leader within the group to get more power.

It was wandering the streets to find more loyalists that they found a figure in a dark ally alone. Maybe it was time one of the Death Eaters take action again. Maybe they would just rob the poor bloke (they didn’t need the money, it would be just because they could). Or maybe they’d string them up with the Dark Mark emblazoned on them. They smirked, an idea crossing their mind. It had been far too long since they had practiced an Unforgiveable. It was about time to use Imperius, cast doubt on someone from the Order or Aversio, pull power away from them and towards the DE ranks. 

Just when they had their wand raised, the figure before them started pounding against a wall and screaming. Interestingly enough it was a voice Aidan noticed almost immediately. Unfortunately, all their plans went out the window, but they had little doubt they were about to find much more interesting ones. With a flick of their wand and a spoken spell, light poured out of the end of their wand. They tsked their tongue four times, shaking their head in mock disappointment. “Now Cygnus, certainly those bricks haven’t done anything to you, now have they? Is there really any need for that?” A smirk crossed Aidan’s lips. “And really, I’ve always liked that coat, no need to ruin it with your own blood. If you’re going to ruin it with blood stains, at least make it someone else’s.”

The scene would replay a million times over if Cygnus allowed himself to close his eyes long enough to let it. Thick, billowing clouds of smoke, the pain as it tore through his lungs, the fear as the flames lapped at his trousers with little regard to who he was. He could remember grasping at Augustus with trembling fingers, his brain screaming ‘just get the fuck out of here’. His mouth trying to form words but every time he inhaled, the wracking cough would come instead. So they crawled, and they tore at each other, and they escaped. But now he couldn’t get away from the memory, or the burning on the skin around his eyes, and for that he was lost. He was lost and unable to play the games he had come to love. 

The interruption came as a blessing and a curse. 

For one relieving moment Cygnus remembered how he used to be, and thought he could maybe fall into it again with Aidan by his side. Together they were fearless and ambitious, they could conquer the world if only they could become the leaders they were destined to be. But Cygnus feared that letting his guard down in front of the other would only lead to a diminishing respect. And he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle that as easily as he handled other disappointments in his life. Because, truthfully, he enjoyed the time he spent with Aidan. They were so similar, he found it easy to fall into a rhythm of almost silent communication. 

So he turned around reluctantly, allowing his lips to turn upwards in a false smirk. “Yes, well, the wall started it.” Cygnus didn’t like joking, but somehow he thought maybe that could clear the air. Maybe they could pretend he hadn’t lost his fucking mind. His scraped up hand dug deeply into the pocket of his coat, an effort to hide the damage he had done in his little outrage, while his other tucked his wand neatly into the rung on his belt. “You’re right.” He admitted, nodding. “I really need to focus on someone else for a bit. A distraction, y’know?” Though, honestly, he wasn’t sure if he could even lose himself in pain and suffering. He just wanted to drink himself into nothingness. 

But the vibrancy that Aidan brought to the table often filled Cygnus with life and youth - so he didn’t want to scurry away. Maybe this would help. “Any ideas on what I should do?” Or who we should torture?

side effects

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pandora-lockwood‌:

Anyone that didn’t believe the fact that it was dangerous to be alone wandering streets had to be completely naive, and while many believed that Pandora often fell into that category the truth was she knew it was dangerous. It was just the fact that when given so many rules to abide by she often felt trapped by the world that surrounded her. She needed to feel like she had some freedom even if it was merely wandering around the dark streets of a random new town in the hopes that she didn’t run into the wrong person. All that she wanted was to enjoy the evening and what little stars that she was able to make out despite the lights from the city.

It was only a matter of time before she needed to return to the castle, but she figured that she would be able to enjoy a few more minutes of her quiet evening before she was forced into her cage again. A loud noise however caught her attention in the opposite direction. There was no way that if someone was hurting that Pandora was able to just walk away if she could help them in anyway.

She didn’t notice who the man was as she quickly approached him. “Stop, stop, stop!” She exclaimed not risking herself by actually putting her hands on him hoping to avoid being physically harmed but wanting to get his attention. “Hurting yourself is never the answer!”

The world was churning, twisting and tumbling around his peripherals, threatening to knock him sideways and into the isolated street. Despite the burning in his palm, Cygnus pressed his hand harder against the grittiness of the brick, relishing in the pressure, wishing for more if only it would pull him out of his own mind. But there was something wrong with him, he knew deep down, something that had cracked so thoroughly that he understood it could never be fixed. And what control could he pretend to have if he was broken-

Cygnus had assumed he was alone that evening, hadn’t even thought that someone would find him with his guard down. Now his thoughts were solely on how to eliminate the person who interrupted him, despite how soothing her concern might have been. The girl was naive, he figured, to be worried and readily approaching a stranger. Didn’t she know that people were so quickly disappearing? He sighed, his fingers curling into a tight fist, and turned to face her. 

Somehow she was exactly what he had pictured, blonde and radiant, and he wondered if she would know who he was from sight. He straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders backwards, trying to pull himself together despite the obvious reality of the situation. The stranger had seen his breakdown, and for that he wanted to taunt and mock until she left. But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it. You’re a broken man, and even she knows it, why else readily approach you? “What I’m doing is none of your concern.” He responded, his words cold but lacking any passion. “You shouldn’t be out alone. It’s a dangerous world now, wouldn’t want you to get hurt. Someone like you...” Wouldn’t be easily forgotten. “Go home.”

side effects

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@dromeda-tonks

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side effects

OPEN STARTER

Among the shadows of London lurked creatures made of flesh and blood, desperate to taste something copper and foul. They whispered and dealt beneath the fullness of a silver moon, and clawed out at the innocent passersby with hideous intentions. And until a week ago, Cygnus Black had crept within their circles, content to find pain, fire, and mayhem after hours. Those sorts were his family, silent as they were, his drinking buddies and fighting partners and everything between. He lived for their distrust and distaste. His own cold face was no different than their own so they asked no questions, they just traded and drank and stumbled around. Like old friends, he often thought, or brothers. 

But now, now that he did not sleep and could not think, he didn’t return to that brotherhood of darkness. They would sniff out the weakness pouring from his clammy skin. The simple tremor of his fingertips was more than enough of a sign that he had grown old, too old, and that he was not to be feared. Bullshit. Cygnus wanted to scream into the warm night air presently. Fuck that, I’m going to burn the entirety of England to the fucking ground. And then we’ll see who is scared.

He raised his wand to the sky, his eyes squinting at the distant target. To his left was an alleyway he could escape to, should he need a quick exit. To his right sat a small strip of shops. If this were the middle of the day perhaps he would have witnesses. But this late at night - early in the morning, actually - the streets were bare. He tightened his grip on his wand, ready to let the flame fly towards the farthest building - but nothing came. Nothing could. The thought of those orange embers, that blazing heat, had him dropping his arm stiffly to his side. He had broken into a sweat, he was panting from former terror, his heart beating rapidly against his chest. “Fuck!” He shouted, twisting around to slam one open palm into the brick of the alleyway. And then over and over until the fleshy bits were scraped up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

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avgvstvs‌:

Location: Undisclosed Date: August 15th, 1979 @cygnvsblvck

The note he’d sent simply read, “Usual place? - A.” It wasn’t the first of its kind, and therefore required nothing more. The man would either show up or he wouldn’t. No harm done. Not yet, at least. When the two were together, there was almost always some sort of victim, whether the living, breathing kind or their own livers. Because that’s what this was about: distraction. From responsibility, from one’s own mortality, from life itself. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that when together, they didn’t have to be themselves. Well, the selves that everyone else seemed to desire of them. They could just be and not talk about it the next day, no matter what happened. They weren’t friends. Neither even glanced in the other’s direction when in public, unless required to, and that was what worked for them. 

And now it had evolved. Others had brushes with death, but no one else knew how it felt to hear your own hair crackle in the heat, to fill your lungs with the acrid smoke of an old building, and wonder in that moment if there was an afterlife, and if you’d end up in the “good one”, or spend an eternity in the same skin-melting fire that had put you there in the first place.

But Cygnus knew. Facing death with someone forms a unique bond that is both unbreakable and indescribable. As they had both practically carried each other out of the glowing remains of the Daily Prophet headquarters, an unspoken need was passed between them. A need for what? Augustus still couldn’t figure it out. And now he was somewhere East of London’s center, leather jacket pulled tight against the misting rain. His hands began to shake in fear as he caught a slight smokiness in the air, but a CRACK! nearby drew him out of it. Letting out a breath that he had no idea he’d been holding, Augustus pushed himself away from the dripping bricks of the alley as a familiar silhouette stepped around the corner and into the shadows, “I’m glad you came.”

Sleep was elusive and intoxication was dull, but Rookwood offered escape. 

The quickly scrawled note came as a beacon of momentary hope for Cygnus Black. Remaining alone in his darkened study had left the older man sullen and sour, his thoughts consistently returning to the blaze, his eyes bloodshot and fatigued. Had it been a year, or just a few days? He couldn’t remember. All of the passing hours became a blur of consciousness, fading out, and blinking back into reality - flames, churning, fear. Rinse and repeat. He couldn’t quell the shaking of his hands or the twitching of his legs. Couldn’t force himself to light a cigar and reach for a book, or do much of anything other than think. And, fuck, he wanted it to stop. He longed for his brain to break in two, to separate the horror of that night from his memory. But it didn’t, and it wouldn’t, and thus he began longing for Augustus instead. 

Their evenings together were electric. Cygnus didn’t need to hide the shaking or the fear, he didn’t need to speak about the events or explain his own actions. Together they became one; one horror show, one monster. Even drinking a bottle of scotch together seemed more effective than when he was alone, churning and angry in his study. He ached for the companionship, a desire he had only felt with Orion in the past - though he admitted this was different. Because Augustus had experienced it with him. They had almost died together, and somehow that created a bond that he would never allow himself to lose. They weren’t friends, no, they were something new entirely. 

It didn’t take long for him to tidy himself and appear around the familiar corner of their normal meeting spot. But seeing the other man standing there, approaching him, caused him to suck in a breath. They needed this. Cygnus would consider the meetings close to an addiction. He clapped a hand tightly over the other mans shoulder, and let the corners of his lips twitch upwards - just slightly. “When have I ever let you down?” He squeezed, let his hand drop reluctantly, and pulled his draping coat tighter against the mist. “What’s the plan tonight, my friend?”

the same damn hunger

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florence-wilson‌:

Letters to the editor were worthless these days. The Prophet was being run by the Death Eaters – or at the very least, people who were sympathetic to their cause. Florence knew that wasn’t a fair assumption to make, necessarily. Some of the writers at the Prophet preferred to keep their articles politically neutral, knowing that rocking the boat could lead to them losing their jobs. She’d seen it first hand, with the firing of Hestia Jones and then her being taken in by the Aurors. It was a dangerous time to be a public dissenter. Then again, Florence couldn’t think of a time when she’d been anything else. She sat in the park on one of the benches, trying to take in the sounds of every day life, reminding herself that in the midst of all this chaos, there were still small remnants of normalcy hidden throughout London. It wasn’t until someone interrupted her that she looked up from her book, a stern look on her face.

There was something wrong - a disconnection, a break - in his brain. He had trouble calming the shake of his hands, or the nervous twitch of his legs when he sat, or the rapid blinking of his eyes. These things had never happened before, had they? Or perhaps, he thought with a split second of fright, I’ve always been this weak. Cygnus shoved away the thought with as much force as he could muster, blinking back into reality, realizing he was in a park instead of his original destination, and paused. This kept happening as well. His body would lead him to places he had never meant to be, or never cared for, and then he lost the memory of where he was originally going. Where had he set out to go? Cygnus wracked his brain but couldn’t find the words or images, his fingers curling and uncurling against his palms, the frustration turning to fatigue. And then, quite suddenly, he was sitting on a bench next to a stranger, unsure and angry, the bubbling threatening to boil over. “What’re you looking at?” He snapped, his hands shaking as they came up to run through his already slicked back hair. 

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               I can tell, you’re a sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴏʀ

    When you’re sᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ, your hands 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍                                        And your shoulders 𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖊 

              But your eyes…                             It doesn’t show in your eyes.                                 That’s how I can tell,                                     Those eyes have seen things.

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“DAMN.” Questions for Muses.

BLOOD. -What types of injuries has your muse sustained? What was the worst? 

DNA. -What was your muses home life like?

YAH. -Something your muse agrees on 100% of the time.

ELEMENT. -What is your muse “made of”, what is their character like? Courageous, loving, scared, etc.

FEEL. -How does your character react to a persons touch? A random stranger’s? A loved one’s? A friend’s?

LOYALTY. -Does your character have any loyalty to any group?

PRIDE. -What is your muses biggest flaw?

HUMBLE. -How does your muse handle praise?

LUST. -Who does your muse find attractive?

LOVE. -Does your muse have a “special someone”

XXX. -What’s the raunchiest thing your muse has ever done?

FEAR. -What are your muses biggest fears?

GOD. -Does your muse believe in a god? If so, describe it.

DUCKWORTH. -Has your muse ever thought about committing or committed a crime?

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Percival Graves / Gellert Grindelwald in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them

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#grounded

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character aesthetics: modern-day greaser