* EXTINCT. @svrenscall - Tumblr Blog

@delirixms sent 🎵 for me to shuffle my playlist and use my favorite line of the next song as a starter ( this train don’t stop there anymore by elton john )

“ yeah, i don’t believe in miracles anymore. “ the words fell out of his lips casually, ignoring all the baggage in them. alastor stared at the little house in front of them, a small scene of normalcy if it wasn’t for their presence there and the witness holding onto her broken arm next to the front door. her boyfriend had disappeared amidst the robbery along with the thief and attacker, but she insisted with him that he must be alright. perhaps he fled. perhaps some miracle. the word had echoed in his head for the past twenty minutes, he but hadn’t had the heart to deny her such comfort. “ when i think about it, i don’t i never really did for sure. “ miracles were innocent thoughts, belonging to a more innocent time - like the current one, he kept trying to remind himself. miracles were misplaced in a war. they were no longer in one. “ we’ve got hits and trainees doing a search.“ the auror wouldn’t share such detail with other departments unless it was necessary, but diana was a friend. they’d done enough scenes together to have any formality between. “ muggle neighbours had no leads, right ? poor lad. took everything to not tell her that, realistically, he probably held onto the robber as he apparated and either splinched and is bleeding out somewhere or is dead in some corner. “ there were nicer options, he hoped, but such wishes were buried under layers of experiences that were anything but kindly miraculous.

#❛ ALASTOR . | you don’t know this new me — i put back my pieces differently ; threads .#death tw #❛ | timestamp ; june 1984 .#❛ | threads ; alastor ft. diana .

cruciatvs:

Mary let out a huff of air. “Those two are very different,” she said pointedly, although she knew that wasn’t what Alastor meant. She was just tired, and any mention of the imperius curse tended to put her on a bitter edge. “I’m afraid all the time, and you still don’t see me joining the ranks of You Know Who.” Mary chuckled, then, stuck between amused and cynical. She seemed to be stuck between those quite often, nowadays. “Not that they’d have me. They’re missing out.” Frustrated, she realised that she was deviating from the original topic — trouble focusing wasn’t rare, nowadays. In quiet moments, at least. “But yeah, I suppose. Voldemort’s kind of the devil, anyway.” Another chuckle. As if it was all a hilarious joke.

She got up to pour two cups of coffee, returning to her desk to retrieve a bottle of scotch. Mary let Alastor’s questions echo for a moment, lost in thought. Her parents would think it was the devil, that was pushing her – if they knew, that was. She would have thought so too, had she not seen how cruel people could be over and over and over again. “I think they are missing something, yeah. Humanity, for one.” But that couldn’t be just it. She sometimes thought she was lacking in humanity, too, and yet she wasn’t as monstrous as the Death Eaters were. She had to be. “It’s what motivates them,” she said. “That makes them different, their actions worse. Even if we both kill.” And then Mary sighed, pouring a considerable amount of whiskey in her and Alastor’s mugs. “Fuck knows where their prejudice and willingness to contribute to genocide comes from, though.” She got up, handed Moody his cup. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand such cruelty. Don’t want to, any way.”

The auror nodded, trying to imagine Mary with a dark mark and a different body count. His creativity wasn’t up to par. When Mary returned, the senior auror put the documents down, his attention mostly on her ( but it had been so long since he’d allowed himself to focus on only one thing, to not look behind him all the time and run scenarios in his head ). His eyebrows raised a bit at the quantity of whiskey but he had no audible objections. “ It’s a funny thing, right ? How our job would benefit of us understanding it, but the moment we do, we shouldn’t be allowed to do our job. “ Moody took a sip from his mug, eyeing her after the first taste with a brief smile. It was visible that somewhere behind his eyes cogs were turning in a short but rather heavy silence that he broke with a yet another sigh. “ We aren’t there yet. “ They walked a thin line, had done so especially in the past year, but after careful consideration, he’d decided that their sins were worthy of absolution. The expression on his face was not quite as certain as his voice, almost as if asking Mary to pardon them too. “ We’ve been close. “ A pause to scan the bullpen for an unwanted listener. “ Locke. “ He put that mostly on his back, though. “ But not there. I expect you to report me if I slip down, y’know ? “ If Moody would be able to do the same was a whole different conversation.

#hello this is short but ily #❛ | threads ; alastor ft. mary .#❛ ALASTOR . | you don’t know this new me — i put back my pieces differently ; threads .#❛ | timestamp ; september 1981 .

leave-me-colourless

#❛ HONORA . | and the queen of peace always does her best to please ; musings .

diego-hargreeves

“I’ll kill you. Not even worried about it.”

#❛ ALASTOR . | 'don’t people call you al ?’ ‘how dare you’ . ; crack .#death eaters: exist #alastor:

caryled

#❛ ALASTOR . | those scars are proof that you’re paying for whatever sins you’ve committed ; mirror .#hello good evening

sectumscmpra:

she’s slipping and it’s a thought that stains his mind no matter how much booze he uses to scrub it away. this lack of control is sickeningly familiar. a chain around his neck that’s liable to tighten and loosen as it pleases. maybe it’s because dorcas is frighteningly close to daiyu in age and demeanor, both girls fighting ( fought ) violence and injustice that nik can’t ( couldn’t ) protect them from. in the year leading up to daiyu’s death, she distanced herself, stopped replying to letters for weeks, didn’t show up in their usual havens. and then she was gone. without a goodbye, without knowing of the funeral until weeks later. nik fears the same fate will fall upon the girl he’d welcomed into his home.

a possibly excessive amount of charms are set up around the apartment, one to ward off muggles, another to reinforce the walls but possibly the most important, is the incantation that gives his wand a gentle yet noticeable shake when someone or something walks up to the highest level of the apartment block. nik readies himself for an attack, deadly and ANCIENT curses on the tip of his tongue. but when he swings open the door, there is no threat on the other side. instead, a sad looking ghost of a girl sits on his doorstep. “dorcas. merlin.” lowering his wand in an instant, his shoulders drop from their defensive stance, sucking in a labored breath. he opens his mouth to demand where she’s been, ask her what she thinks she’s playing at with her increasingly worrying disappearing acts. he thinks of daiyu again, how he wishes he’d been more understanding and instead settles on a different line of questioning. “coffee?”

her name. she hadn’t heard that in quite some days, not her real name. such an unnecessary lie that slipped from her lips with unimaginable ease - clara, lucia, annie, barbara, lily; they all felt so real that her own got lost among them. she reacted slowly and with much delay, once her mind was able to process the moment and push words out. “ can i sleep here ? on the inside but here could do too, i guess. “ she patted the floor next to her, fingers with a slight tremble, nails bruised. her own words made her giggle a bit but the corners of her mouth dropped as quickly as they rose, her mind wandering off once again. reality was hard to keep track of. after a few seconds she looked up at him with her wide eyes and wider pupils, taking him in for a bit before waving her hand, asking for help up.

#matching? dont know her #❛ | threads ; dorcas ft. nik .#❛ DORCAS . | what do i do with such an unlovable core ? ; threads .#drugs tw

the teashop seemed to be far from rush hour when dorcas came in, so she didn’t mind bothering the barista for a bit. she wouldn’t have minded either way. “ i’ll have the pecan-lemon bar and an irish coffee. “ she was quite certain the latter wasn’t an option at the family-friendly madam puddifoot’s teashop, but her smile as she leaned on the counter gave that away. “ sooo, how’s the first week? “ he hadn’t exactly told her yet about his new gig yet, but dorcas always found things out even when they didn’t have time to meet. “ lost all will to live and are ready to burn the apron and go back to morocco or something? we could get you fired in a blazing glory. i mean, you are plenty able of doing that yourself, “ a quick wink to tone down the sharpness of the comments, “ but i have the afternoon. “ // @gideonprew

#❛ | timestamp ; ?? 1979 .#time is fake #❛ | threads ; dorcas ft. gideon .

ofhotheads-blog

Want a random starter?

spitfircs

ofhotheads:

Send me a symbol…

🎬 for me to use a line from the last movie I watched as a starter 📹 for me to use a line from my favorite movie as a starter 📚 for me to grab the book nearest to me, flip to a random page, and use the first line of dialogue I see as a starter 🎧 for me to shuffle my playlist and use the first line of the next song as a starter 🎶 for me to use my favorite line of the last song I listened to as a starter 📺 for me to use a line from the last TV show I watched as a starter 💻 for me to use a line from my favorite TV show as a starter 🎵for me to shuffle my playlist and use my favorite line of the next song as a starter 💋 for a shippy starter 😡 for an angsty starter 👊 for an argument/fight starter 🌈 for a random encounter starter 💀 for a dark starter 🍬 for a fluffy starter

#hello my dudes #only doing stuff for dorcas n alastor bc i NEED to go do the rest of my intros but oh well #hmu

seventeen days, she’d done the maths some hours earlier. dorcas had been gone for seventeen days, no tracks to follow. it felt simultaneously like just a weekend and half a year. a loud song played in her mind, leading her to forget again and again that she was sitting on the floor next to nick’s front door - the mix of concoctions, mostly magical, half of which she could not recall anymore, certainly did not help. her disappearances weren’t unusual, but they were often shorter, at least when it came to HIM. they were often rejuvenating, just an escape ( what happens in manchester stays in manchester ). yet, for a few months already, she’d been taking longer to reappear, and rarely returned in her best of states. those who could often follow her were more often left behind, just as clueless as the rest. her hidden life was muddled with dorcas meadowes, order member, ministry worker, not the pale figure on the floor leaning her head on the door like a stray dog. why here? the more she needed to run, the less she appeared at his house, the less she tried to need him. the song kept getting louder whenever she tried to piece together her way to his building or the internal reasoning for it. the bass covered up the steps going up the floor. the drums how fast her heart was beating, painfully almost. her eyes were fixed on her backpack, secure between her knees. // @sectumscmpra

#❛ | threads ; dorcas ft. nik .#❛ | timestamp ; april 1980 .#drugs tw

cruciatvs:

@svrenscall asked me to shuffle my playlist and use my favorite line of the next song as a starter ( paradise circus – massive attack. ) meme. – accepting.

It was another late night at the auror’s office, and Mary MacDonald was feeling particularly cynical. “Oh well,” she began, her feet kicked up on her desk, as she looked at Alastor Moody. “The devil makes us sin.” She believed that once, her knees on the benches at church, hands folded, eyes closed in prayer. And while she still prayed now, she knew it wasn’t the devil that made people sin — it was people themselves. And so sarcasm laced her voice, her eyes moving away from her mentor, towards the pictures of suspects.

She stared at them for a moment, considering the possible Death Eaters. A sigh spilled past her lips. This was useless – they were both exhausted ( or, well, she was confident enough to assume Alastor was too, but who knew what went on in that head of his? ) and they weren’t going to get anything done. Going home felt useless, though. “Imagine if they pulled that card, in the Wizengamot. Fuck.” A dry chuckle. “Can I get you another cup of coffee? I can spike it.”

The devil makes us sin. The unexpected words made him chuckle, head shaking as he leaned against the empty desk next to hers. Most of the heart of the office was empty ( not the offices, the seniors often under the same pesky habit of sending the younger aurors home while they spent most of the night on their own desks - his blue eye did a quick check just some minutes earlier ) so the sound seemed louder, misplaced almost. “When they do, Radfort will owe me three galleons.” It was a bit like playing bingo, all the possible excuses building up to a victory. Yet it carried no triumph or cash prize, just more anger with no possible release. “In a way, they have, though. Imperius? The Dark Lord scared me into it?”

There was bitterness in his voice, the few seconds of laughter dead and buried. In his mind all the trials so far played out, years of excuses and admissions. With his head hung back, the auror exhaled deeply as if all that anger and all that exhaustion was trying to crawl out of his throat. “Aye. Why not.” Alastor sat on the chair next to him, rubbing his eyes closed for a few seconds before pulling himself back to the warm light of the office. He reached for the photographs, reviewing them once more. “If not the devil, what does it? Is it just some missing bits in them?” He didn’t ponder much about the moralities of the other side, his own already far too much for his head. “‘Cause we can all kill. We can all damage and play revenge but I reckon there’s still a line - so it’s not from that. So what gives?”

#moody at 11pm: what makes bad bad #❛ | timestamp ; september 1981 .#❛ | threads ; alastor ft. mary .#❛ ALASTOR . | you don’t know this new me — i put back my pieces differently ; threads .