@celebrityvictimmoved / celebrityvictimmoved.tumblr.com

independent sidney prescott. written by blythe.
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       @celebrityvictim

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     ❛  sidney  prescott  ?  gosh  y’know  ,  it  just  seems  so  crazy  t’me  that  you’re  still  alive  !  haha  .  nikolai  wolf  ,  lead  singer  of  low  shoulder  ,  quite  the  HONOR  to  meet  you  .  ❜  sticks  out  his  hand  .
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             ❛   Thanks....   ❜   Her drawl is flat, low; so much for a normal evening out with friends. Then again, this was her new normal—in one way or another, at least. With little hesitation (she’s come accustomed to masking it), she reaches out for his hand, shaking it likely.   ❛   Yeah, your set, it was—   ❜   contrived? pretentious?   ❛   good. Very Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.    ❜

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             Yeah, not so fast, babe. Hands still deep in his pockets and smirk still on his lips, he takes a quick side step to block her path. He doesn’t really give a shit who she is. Famous or not, her reaction is what spurs him on. At this school – in college – chicks are supposed to be smarter, less boring than back in his crap hometown. But so far, he hasn’t been impressed. So, he’ll take whatever SPARK of interesting he can get.
              “Christ – I touch a nerve or something?” he says, almost smugly. “Look, I can spare a minute to help you out. Maybe even shell out a couple BUCKS on a coffee… But you’ve gotta answer my question first.”
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                She can never catch a fucking BREAK, it seems; the whole point of moving out of state and halfway across the country for college was to escape this; to distance herself from the fame that came with being a central survivor in a murder spree. For the most part, thus far, it’s worked—most of her professors don’t take attendance, and her roommate’s been surprisingly cool. Windsor College had shaped up to be better than expected, only to come crashing down in that moment. At least, just so

                  Her steps skid to an abrupt halt as she stops in her tracks, shoulders rising in surprise, eyes shutting quickly, as if she’s bracing to run into a brick wall or get stabbed. It takes a moment before she can root herself back into reality, remind herself that it’s broad daylight; there are people wandering aimlessly about. If anything dire were to happen to her, it wouldn’t be now. It wouldn’t be there. And it certainly, above all else, would not be because of him.

              ❛   No.   ❜  As shaken as she may be, her tone stands firm. UNYIELDING. She wears a carefully formed, stony expression, determined to hold it together ( lest he see the delicate cracks forming underneath such a calculated mask ).   ❛   I don’t want your money, or your help. Just leave me alone, okay?   ❜

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richeboy
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“So – I hear you’re supposed to be  famous or something. Sorry, babes. Never heard of you…”

@celebrityvictim | SC
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                FAMOUS. It’s laughable to her at best; at worst? Well, suffice to say that she still hesitates whenever she sees a camera or a news van—the thought of a journalist thrusting a microphone or audio recorder in her face, begging for a statement from SURVIVOR AND CELEBRITY VICTIM SIDNEY PRESCOTT still puts her on edge. To be met with such flippancy as this is almost a relief; still, she doesn’t so much smile as she does blink, and scrunch her eyebrows.

               ❛   I wanted to know if you could point me in the direction of a cup of coffee.   ❜  Not that she owes him a response, or anything; yet there it is, her tone flat.   ❛   I’ll find it myself, thanks.   ❜

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