#Kind of like white people using the word gypsy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vivianleighwishesshewasme · 1 month ago

Text

Worth my weight in Gold- part 7

Crossing all the lines

_________________________________________________________

Abe has to confront Mahala.

Chapter Text

Crossing all your lines

______________________________________________

Aberama Gold wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation. In his line of work he was used to people arguing, pleading or lying. Something about it coming from a person you had loved and shared your most intimate thoughts with just didn’t sit well with him.

He’d brought a male kinsman with him to have this conversation knowing there would be a very different conflicting account later.

He knocked on the white Vardo door and looked around annoyed. He already had an audience of curious clansmen and women who were looking out little windows or around the camp, craning their necks to see what he was up to knocking on his ex-wife's door.

Mahala greeted him with her large perfect smile that went to her eyes.

Abe smiled back feeling the tightness in both his grin and his chest. He could feel the warmth of a soft rekindled rage igniting in him. He could deal with that emotion. He hadn’t forgotten nor had time removed the scar on his heart that she’d left.

“Aberama, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” He chuckled darkly at her choice of words, aware that she had glanced across the way, through him to glance at his Caravan. He knew Gypsy was outside taking advantage of the warm day. Gathering their girls about her like little chicks to go find early spring plants for meals and medicinal reasons.

He was grateful she was taking them away from camp for the day. He’d promised to meet up with them later and cook a rabbit or squirrel if he could catch one. He had picked a member of his clan who knew of Mahala’s manipulative ways. He’d wished he’d listened to his friends warning years ago but he hadn’t and he had learned the hard way.

Clearly she still took no accountability for her whimsical actions and how they affected others. That would make what he had to do a lot easier.

“You're crossing all over the lines, Mahala. I know we have some different perspectives on what had happened between us but I remember what happened clearly, even my involvement in it.” He cleared his throat watching her smile disappear slowly then rise again once she realized they had an audience. Just as he remembered her.

“I remember, I was alone a lot Abe and when you were home, you could still be a million miles away. “ She smiled but it was sweet. It reminded him of a snake. Beautiful, and cunning ready to strike when given a clear chance to bite you fatally.

“I admit, as I have since the beginning, that my mistake was leaving you alone a lot and not always letting you know what I was thinking. In truth I thought no issues between us meant just that. We were both young and I learned that my wife can’t read my mind.” His tone was even, firm and velvety.

“I’m not pleased with you singling out our girls when I was away. Nan and Esmeralda are chatterboxes, I know what you said To Gypsy because the girls tattled on you.” He was trying so hard to keep his anger reeled in. He could feel his fists itching to close, his nails wanting to bite into the flesh to remind him to calm down. He took a breath watching her. She stood straight with her head tilted watching him carefully. He knew she was being defiant.

“ You mean to say that your little girl or wife tattled on me.” She smiled at the kidney but her eyes were dark and fierce. She wanted Abe to feel old, he’d been older then Mahala when they’d wed by a few years. Gypsy more so by ten years. He refused her bait.

“Gypsy has many qualities to her, she's thoughtful , kind and forgiving to a fault. I worry about her kindness being taken advantage of when I’m away but she is not a schemer, a liar or malicious. You both have very different qualities to you. No comparison Mahala.” He made sure to punctuate the last sentence a bit more harshly to show his displeasure of Gypsy being brought up in any negative way. His eyes gleamed with a challenge, daring her to continue.

“So since you still can’t take accountability, you want to skew the past to your benefit, no further contact with the girls.” He turned stepping down brushing past the man he’d forgotten he’d brought to pull him back if necessary. He nodded indicating they were done but he didn’t move. Just let his eyes flick back and forth as if telling Abermama it wasn’t done.

Abe sighed and turned around to address her once more.

“What did I say, Aberama, that wasn’t true?” She stalked toward him, walking around to plant herself directly in front of the taller man, forcing him to look at her, challenging him.

He sighed and shook his head. He was grateful he no longer had the daily drama of this woman. He didn’t need his girls learning this.

“You told the girls little names that I had apparently called you. I called you many things Mahala, especially in the beginning. I learned my first two days with you that this marriage would be rough. I never called you sweet things other than my little wife or my little viper.” His clansman snickered behind him. Abe really didn’t find it humorous and it was aimed at Mahala to hurt her. It was however the truth, something that only he seemed keen to remember.

He’d tried back then, he really had but she had gutted him when she cheated and fell pregnant. The math didn’t work out to his benefit.

“They are mine too Abe. She has no right to them.” Her tiny hands were clenched now, venom dripping from her usually honey laced tone.

“When they are old enough to think for themselves and can no longer protect them, then you can tell them everything on your side, until then it's my duty to keep them safe.” He hated this so much. He wished he didn’t have to keep the girls from their mother. He truly did but she was sick and the worst part was that she couldn’t even see it!

“From me? They need protection from me!” She yelled. He rolled his eyes. People were coming out now that she was insistent on giving them a show. He wasn’t going to play on her little stage. He had grown as a person and as an adult.

“If need be. I was hoping time would have changed things, sadly they haven't. I’m done conversing with you Mahala, I truly hope you can heal and grow as a person. Keep away from me.” He turned to walk away. When he was almost past the caravan he heard her strong voice ring out clear as day.

“I still love you Abe.” She called after him confidently hoping he;;d turn around. He knew better but he did anyway. He didn’t need the camp to come to their own conclusions. This needed to end.

“You don't know what the truth is, how can you claim to know love? Don't you have a young child traveling with you. Give her your attention Mahala. We're leaving soon.” He turned picking up the pace and his knife as he retreated to the woods. He needed to see his girls. He was dreading the conversation with him. He was grateful to the women at his side though would be there unwavering for all four of them during this time.

He still had no idea why fate had placed Gypsy Boswell Gold unto his path but it was the kindest thing Fate had ever done for him. He was truly grateful for his women. ____________________________________________

“Daddy!!!!!” Three little girls screamed and chased him almost back into the tree line. He was grateful he’d already found and killed the rabbit or they’d all be starving with such a loud and enthusiastic greeting.

He laughed and scooped them up carefully to keep them away from any blood draining from their supper. Gypsy walked up and took it so he could hug them properly.

He winked at her and smiled, causing her to blush and trip on the uneven ground.

“Careful there Raven, this isn’t a paved city walkway.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. He loved it that she was confident enough to play sassy with him.

He knew he was doing something right because they were both blossoming.

“Girls, I need to talk to you. Can you go sit by the fire, please?” He pointed to the campfire. Gypsy had her back turned, skinning the rabbit. The girls were still squeamish about such things. He appreciated that she didn’t force them yet to learn. They enjoyed the eating but he understood they should stay innocent as long as they could.

“Daddy, look, we were playing with a spider.” Nan held up two sticks with a dainty little web in between them carefully so she didn’t tear the web too much. He was impressed by her strength to not destroy it. “That’s honestly impressive, Nan. Come here please girl, this is serious.” Three very serious little girl faces looked back at him blinking only if necessary. He smiled warmly at them. His heart already ached at what he had to do.

“Girls, I know the recent resurfacing of your mother seems exciting.” He paused for several agonizing minutes as their faces lit up with him mentioning Mahala. They looked so much like her. Heart shaped faces, long wavy brunette hair and her large lovely smile.

“Girls, your mother is still very sick and unable to care for you. I know you don’t understand because she doesn’t look sickly physically…”

“What does…phys.phy..what does that bug word mean?” Esmeralda asked, earning a chuckle from her father.

“Oh, I love your inquisitive mind Esme, I really do. It means she doesn’t look sick, she isn’t coughing or throwing up but she isn’t well here.” He tapped his head hoping they would understand.

“Her mind is puking…ewww….” Three little girls chimed in exchanging grossed out faces each one to outdo the other.

“No.” He was trying to stifle his laughter, it really wasn't funny but their innocence was so sweet and touching.

“ It means her thoughts are…not safe girls.” Gypsy said and looked at Abe hoping she hadn’t said the wrong thing as she added the meat and veggies to her stew.

“Yes, that’s right.” He nodded in appreciation for her tact.

“So that means we can't talk to her anymore?” Esmeralda large hazels watered up ready to spill over. Her large eyes blinked once and the dam broke sending cascading clear tears down her little face and chin falling to the earth in patters.

“Oh, my little doves.” He scooped up all three tearful girls. This hated this part the most. He hated his babies being in pain.

He waited several minutes until the sobs became stifled little cries here and there.

“No, it just means that until you are adults, have a man to help you through your relationship with her, or she gets better, I can’t have you getting hurt.” “We're already hurt.” Nan cried out throwing herself further into her bracing fathers strong arms. Abe looked up feeling the sting in his eyes too.

“I know my little angels, I know.”

___________________________________________________________

Gypsy had helped him carry the sleepy and very full little girls back to camp. Their fire had long since burned out but he couldn’t feel the cold right now. He was numb and not even anger burned in him anymore.

It had been a long and emotional night already.

He purposefully looked down at the ground as he walked, rationalizing that it was so he didn't trip and lose two of his arm loads of children, but he didn’t want to see her right now. Gypsy followed him up into their cozy little home on wheels and closed the door. He felt his lungs give way to a huge sigh. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath.

They get the kids down and tuck them into their little beds. He was aware she's watching him waiting for him to stand.

“For what it is worth, I’m really proud of you. That wasn’t an easy conversation to have..with any of them. But you did it masterfully.” Gypsy's kind and soft word burrowed into his heart. He turned and gathered her tightly into his arms and buried his face into her dark tresses.

“Thank you Gypsy, I had hoped to never have to talk to her again let alone the girls but it had to happen at some point.”

“You're a good man.” She countered his intrusive dark thoughts. He groaned and shook his head gently, careful not to headbutt her in the process. He didn’t feel like one at all.

“Haha, that's subjective with my line of work. I suppose what side you get from me.” He added and pulled back so he could look at her loving face.

“Well I got the good side so that's all I care about.” She said haughtily causing him to laugh and feel some tension melt away. It amazed him that she was slowly healing parts of him he hadn’t even known still carried bruises.

“You bring out the good side. You make the death-dealing monster feel like a man.” He said plainly.

“ You'll never be a monster to me.” He felt his chest tighten. He’d never even thought that. Now he prayed to whatever god was listening that he could live up to her truth.

“I hope so.” He meant that. He didn’t want to ever disappoint her knowing he’d never get that part of her back.

“ Come here. I wouldn’t trust a monster to ravish me. I want you to though.” She shyly grinned at him pulling him into a kiss.

“Oh darling, I plan too.” He sealed the distance and picked her up by the hips carrying her to bed. This was his favorite kind of stress relief, especially with her.

_____________________________________________________ Please comment on if you are enjoying the story and why! I appreciate all of my readers.

#peaky blinders fanfic #original character #gypsy #aberama gold #arranged marriage #bonnie gold #origin story #friends to lovers

1 note · View note

tilbageidanmark · 1 year ago

Text

Movies I watched this week (Year 4, week 2)

Napoleon, Ridley Scott's new sweeping epic. It's assumed that when a megalomaniac filmmaker (Abel Gance, Kubrick) becomes obsessed with the myth of "The Great Leader Napoleon", it's because they themselves are inflicted with delusions of grandeur of some kind. So it's not very interesting or relevant to us mortal people.

This is a beautifully-shot, rich with gorgeous tableaux showing the senselessness and chaos of war. The best thing it did was making me read about the history of French history in the first half of the 19th century. 4/10.

🍿

2 tight French thrillers by Yann Gozlan:

🍿 I feel bored at the moment, and was looking for an intelligent thriller to break out my film lethargy. Somebody on r/truefilm suggested Black box, a French conspiracy thriller, similar to 'Three Days of the Condor' and 'The Parallax View'. I started watching it at 4AM, and gulped it all in one fell whoop. A sharp analyst at the French NTSB discovers small inconsistencies while investigating a plane crash. Terrific! 9/10.

🍿 Burn out was a more traditional crime action story about a semi-professional bike racer who gets involved with a gypsy cartel of drug-dealing goons. 5/10.

🍿

Another thriller, Black Mirror's longest (feature-length), and my most favorite and re-watched episode, Hated in the nation; "The attack of the killer ADI Bees". I knew that it was based on a personal experience that Charlie Brooker himself lived through. "Today I learnt" it was after a 2004 article he wrote, calling for the assassination of George W Bush. A perfect film! 10/10 for the 10th time.

🍿

George Carlin: I'm Glad I'm Dead, my first AI-generated movie! (or rather a stand up). As a long time big fan of St. George, I was very skeptical, and it did take some getting used to. The uncanny valley incongruity of a not exactly right voice, not exactly sharp words as the dearly-departed political genius (Jesus Christ, had it been 15 years already!)

But as weird as it is, you could eventually ease into the rant, and imagine that this - more or less - is how he would respond in 2024 to today's wretched times. F. ex., his descriptions of the Shitting Trump (at 12:00) is right up there with the best of the Real Carlin. If this up-to-date artificial facsimile of his voice, attitude and opinions is all we can get today, I for one am grateful. (AI-generated Photo Above).

Actually, this experience was so unsettling, I had to watch it twice. And to even it out, I also listened again to his Complaints and Grievances from 2001, as well as some 2.5 hours 'tribute mix' of Carlin 'Top Hits', just to make sure...

🍿

I need more Jean Renoir in my life! A Day in the Country is a perfect start. A light tale, based on a Guy de Maupassant story, which feels like a black & white painting by his father, Auguste Renoir. An innocent seductions one afternoon on the banks of the river Seine. So delightful, so nostalgic. 8/10.

🍿

Jacques Demy X 2:

🍿 "We are a pair of twins / Born in the sign of Gemini..."

Another delightful re-watch: Demy's dreamy musical The Young Girls of Rochefort. Colorful tunes by Michel Legrand, and pastel dance numbers performed at the quintessentially romantic square of this fantasy town. The inspiration to La La Land. 9/10.

🍿 Demy's only American film, Model shop, a testimony to his love for Los Angeles, opens in Huntington Beach and follows aimless, young Gary Lockwood, so broke that he drives around looking to bum 100 bucks from somebody, to avoid his old MG convertible from being repossessed. It's considered a minor masterpiece, about two lost souls looking for love, but I found it dull and empty, and devoid of all magic. 2/10.

🍿

“You’re a good man, sister…”

Re-watch, just for fun: John Huston Tough Man fantasy The Maltese Falcon, the original Film Noir. With Gutman "The fat man" as an early study for Noah Cross, and beautiful Femme fatale Mary Astor. The only strange role is Elisha Cook Jr. who didn't look like the Heavy, "Your boy here", under any circumstances.

There were two earlier adaptations of the story, which I haven't seen yet, but I will.

🍿

Re-watch: Wallace and Gromit: A Close Shave, a happy Oscar-winner Aardman studio classic, which first introduced Shaun the Sheep. I've forgotten that Gromit, Like Teller's, never speaks. 100% score on 'Rotten Tomatoes'.

🍿

Coogan’s Bluff, the only (?) film where laconic outsider Clint Eastwood plays a fish-out-of-water in NYC, and the inspiration to Dennis Weaver's McCloud. Half-sheriff, half-cowboy from Arizona, he's sent to bring back an extradited convict. Not as misogynistic and reactionary as Dirty Harry, he's still a sexist He-man, always horny and creepily pushes himself on any skirt around, whether they like it or not. This being Don Siegel, they love it. 2/10.

🍿

2 music documentaries:

🍿 "..You probably wandering why I'm here / And so am I, so am I..."

I was a big Zappa fan since the outrageousness of 'Freak out!' in the late 60's. I even started a Zappa side-blog in 2003 on 'Grow-a-brain' [where most of the links are dead today]. So Alex Winter's moving Zappa documentary was right up my alley. Groundbreaking avant-garde experimentalist, a committed modern composer, who was so beloved in the Czech Republic. 8/10.

🍿 On the other hand, Greenwich Village - Music that defined a generation was bland and uninspired. The story about the part of 60s music that wasn't Laurel Canyon. Based on the memoirs of Bob Dylan's girlfriend, Suze Rotolo, and including snippets of performers, from Phil Ochs, Tom Paxton, Richard and Mimi Fariña, Kris Kristofferson, to Judy Collins, Arlo Guthrie, and dozen others. 2/10.

*Woman Director

🍿

"This is nuclear war!"

The 1967 documentary Oscar winner, the BBC-produced The War Game was more of a Mondo mockumentary. Like 'Threads' which came 2 decades later, it brutally describes the horrifying effects of a hypothetical nuclear attack on Britain. Its bleak hopelessness caused so much "mayhem" in the British government, that it was promptly withdrawn from broadcasting screening. Unvarnished horror, total devastation, destruction & misery, undiluted.

🍿

Always interested in good stories about the 'End of the world', I thought I’ll also try the new HBO series The last of us, knowing full well that I'm not big on zombies, and also never having played 'any' computer games. I soldiered through the first feature-length episode, but found it so uninspiring and mechanical, so devoid of any real emotions, I had to bail out before continuing. An adaptation of a video game, with all the depth of a stupid comic book? Or simply not for me? 1/10.

🍿

4 shorts:

🍿 Krzysztof Kieslowski's Talking Heads, in which he asks a baby: 'What year were you born? Who are you? What do you most wish for?' The baby doesn't answer, so he keeps asking other people, each older by a year or two, until he ends with the answer of a 100-year-old woman. Simple and profound. 9/10.

🍿 The hand, a classic 1965 Czechoslovak stop motion puppet animation film, an anti-totalitarian parable.

🍿 Never Weaken, Harold Lloyd’s last 3-reeler before he moved on to feature length production, and another of his comedies where he dangles from high buildings.

🍿 The babbling book, my first (?) formulaic short with George Burns and Gracie Allen. I guess they were all structured like this, the two meet in a certain locale, (this time in a bookstore), exchange jokes for 10 minutes, she talks fast and delivers all the zingers, and he plays the straight man. M'eh.

🍿

David Ehrlich's annual The 25 Best Films of 2023: A Video Countdown. So far I've seen 12 of them, and was planning to see 6 more.

🍿

3 movies I couldn’t finish:

🍿 Vox published a relevant article this week about Leon Uris's bestseller 'Exodus' (and the 1960 Paul Newman adaptation of it). How influential it was in shaping the views of Americans in regards to Israel and the middle east. I have vivid memories from when I was 8 staying at my grandmother's tiny apartment in Haifa. She listened to the Adolf Eichmann's trial on the radio, and she used to read to me excerpts from 'Exodus', which she received as serials in thin pamphlets printed on cheap newsprint paper - in Yiddish.

So that prompted me to try and watch this 3+ hours long piece of Zionist Agitprop Cheese about the founding of the state of Israel. But even after 3 attempts I could only get 26 minutes in, before having to give it up.

🍿 From the few roles I've seen him, I developed a physical dislike to actor Jake Johnson, but I love Anna Kendrick, so I gave his new Self Reliance a shot. The trailer opened with an amusing scene where Andy Samberg invites the loser Johnson to join him for a limo ride. But that was the only cute or interesting scene in the whole first half of that unfunny 'comedy'. Pass!

🍿 The Diary of a Teenage Girl, an explicit story about 15-year-old girl who becomes sexually active by starting a relationship with her mother's boyfriend, Alexander Skarsgård, made by all-female team. But I went back to it 3 times, and could not watch more than 20 minutes.

*Woman Director

🍿

Throw-back to the "Art project”:

Zombies Adora.

🍿

(My complete movie list is here)

#movies #AI #george carlin

1 note · View note

sp00kies · 2 years ago

Text

How Disney has neutered their villains, an essay by a bored pumpkin

We all love Disney villains, they’re why some of us have a tumblr in the first place. A way to express our favorites to other people and/or give love to underrated villains. They’re also one of the most memorable things about Disney: their ability to create dark villains.

Many villains are so iconic that they show up at the theme parks and especially during October, with the Halloween season. However, I feel that ever since the 2000s, the villains have been toned down to the point where you can’t call them villains, only antagonists and bad guys.

So today, I’m gonna explain why I feel like this and why it’s kind of gotten sad too. Also, this is just my personal opinion, y’all don’t have to agree with me.

Anyways, rambling is below the cut.

First, let’s discuss the difference between a bad guy, an antagonist, and villain, as these terms get confused as being the same due to being similar.

A bad guy is the word that “antagonist” and “villain” namely tie into as they’re similars of it. But the definition that’s commonly used for it is your average criminal you see on the street.

An antagonist, while similar to a villain, is actually what the protagonist lacks and are the creators of conflicts. Think Abuela Alma from Encanto. She’s not the villain, but she’s an obstacle and brings conflict to Mirabel.

Now, a villain is what we’re all familiar with. Their actions are important to the plot; Ernesto poisoning Héctor, Maleficent cursing Aurora, etc. These are the most common of bad guys in media, and over the years, the Disney villains are starting to become the antagonist slightly.

The 30s up until the 90s was where the villains had no chill. The first Disney villain, The Evil Queen from Snow White, literally tried to poison her stepdaughter and also made a sort of blueprint for how villain should be.

Their design needs to be somewhat iconic, their voice needs to be menacing and cool, their deaths are horrifying, and their actions need to drive the plot along with downright brutal.

Exhibit A: Maleficent cursing Aurora as a baby

Exhibit B: McLeach having no issue with attempted child murder

Exhibit C: Scar literally murdering his brother in front of his nephew

And so on and so forth.

Each of these villains have something iconic about them, and their actions are memorable while also very dark. But the villains are also both funny and menacing. You only really need a dark villain when the story asks for it, and in my opinion, there are two villains who do their job right of being a dark as fuck villain.

Judge Claude Frollo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Judge Doom from Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

We all know about Frollo so I’ll give a brief summary of him. Basically, this dude is fucking insane. He also represents three of the Seven Deadly Sins: Pride, Wrath, and of course Lust. He lusted after the gypsy, Esmeralda, basically set Notre Dame ablaze, and tried to kill Quasimodo once as a baby and when he was an adult.

With HOND being a dark story, it makes sense as to why Frollo would be dark and it checks out. He also checks out the blueprints set by Grimhilde: his actions are dark, his voice and design are iconic, and his death is horrifying; literally showing that he’s going to Hell.

Now what about Judge Doom? Why is he so dark?

Well if you remember correctly, Judge Doom is technically a toon. But not just any toon: he is the toon that murdered Eddie Valient’s brother by dropping a piano on his head. And that’s not all.

Doom made a liquid that can permanently kill a toon: The Dip. It’s made out of paint thinners, which are used to erase a cartoon on the drawing board. And when we see that Doom is a toon, you realize: “Holy shit, this dude made something to kill his own kind.”

Doom had NO issue with destroying ToonTown. He wanted money AND to him, he thought it was funny.

And like Frollo, Doom immediately checks out with the blueprints: iconic design, iconic voice, actions are horrifying and drive the plot, and lets just say that, in my opinion, Doom’s death (and Doom in general) traumatized a generation of kids and adults.

These two villains are perfect examples of having dark villains for dark movies. And all of the other Disney villains are perfect examples of being funny and dark for kids movies. However, I feel like the moment the 2000s rolled around, things changed.

The 2000s and so on was definitely a time where people started to get more sensitive and kiddish, and Disney was no exception. Of course, they did make movies that are somewhat hardcore, but the same cannot be said for their villains.

Alameda Slim, Captain Gantu, Bowler Hat Guy. They all fill out the blueprints like their predecessors, but something felt off. They felt more toned down. Dark, yes, but it was definitely very kiddish than what we’ve been accustomed to the previous years. And it should be noted that this was when Disney started to slow down on killing their villains.

The two villains I feel that are like their predecessors are Dr. Facilier and Rourke. Their actions were dark, their whole aura was iconic, but their deaths were also pretty hardcore too.

Rourke was turned into a crystal and was literally shattered onscreen, and Facilier was dragged into Hell/the Loa ONSCREEN AND WE SAW HIS GRAVESTONE.

So, you see where I’m going with this? These two villains felt like they were from the 30s-90s, while everyone else felt like they were just PGd into oblivion.

The 2010s and forward was where the title of “villain” was completely lost. Of course, there are exceptions. King Candy/Turbo was a great comeback and Mother Gothel was awesome too, but that was it. Disney instead turned to Pixar’s motive for villains: twist villains.

The unholy trilogy of Disney’s twist villains are obviously Hans, Callaghan, and the sheep from Zootopia. And this is also where the blueprints set by Grimhilde were lost.

So let’s do this. Ignore Gothel and Turbo and only think of the villains after them. Can you name a single memorable thing about them? Any iconic lines? Can you remember their designs? Yeah, it’s pretty hard. Well, that’s my point.

These villains can only be called “antagonists” and “bad guys” because that’s how Disney sets them up to be. They’re so toned down that it kind of feels wrong to call them villains because what they do, while still dark and drives the plot, is just so kiddy.

Of course, you don’t need a villain with every movie. Encanto and Winnie the Pooh are good examples. YES, Abuela Alma was an ANTAGONIST, but she redeemed herself in the end and that movie was namely focused on the family trauma and Mirabel.

You might be thinking, “Sp00ks. Is this really necessary? Disney is just trying to make things appropriate for younger audiences.”

I’m sorry, but for the past 90 years, if this company has been showing their villains to be dark as Hell and have them be evil evil, yeah I’m gonna notice these changes.

So that’s why I believe that, in my opinion and based on what I’ve been seeing, Disney has been neutering their villains.

I haven’t seen Strange World, so I don’t know if that movie has a villain or not, but at this point I don’t care, which is disappointing.

Disney Villains are so memorable and it’s saying a lot when you can’t remember their villains from 10 years ago, but you can remember their villains from almost a century ago.

#disney villains #sp00ks’ screaming #reblogs > likes #analysis #long post #was talking about this with a friend a week ago and realized that I needed to talk about this #again y’all don’t have to agree with me. this is just my opinion

71 notes · View notes

allbark-no-bite · 3 years ago

Text

Something Holy || Tommy Shelby x reader

summary: in which even the devil can be religious

warnings: brief mention of drugs, mentions of blood, implied smut

word count: 3.1k

author’s note: this is my first tumblr post so please excuse me if i’ve formatted something wrong. in the future, i’ll probably end up transferring some of my other works from wattpad here. thoughts? let me know!

Frantic stable boys scramble out of the way as sharp, heavy hooves clop down feverently upon the cobblestone ground. Hands reach up to snatch at the horse's bridle and then are jerked out of the way, scarcely avoiding being torn off by sheer force. Deep, ragged, labored breathing comes from the stallion's flaring nostrils, and foam slathers the o-ring bit in his mouth. He jerks his head about indignantly before I am able to reach him, synching the curb chain tightly to finally settle him down. The vast whites of his eyes still flash wildly, but the pinching chain in his mouth has busied him for now.

“Tie him over by the water pump behind the stable and cool him down. I'll be over in a minute," I instruct, passing hold of the leather bridle over to a groom.

Still fighting but finally starting to feel the downhill effects post race, the stallion trots along, dragging the groom with him. His coat is such a deep red that the sheen of sweat on his body gives off the unsettling allusion of blood dripping from him as he walks away.

"And I thought only we gypsies used magic charms and such."

My attention drawn away from the horse, I turn towards the man to whom the voice belongs to, my guard rising up at his suggestive statement. A newsboy cap obscures half of his face, which is squared with a sharp jaw and prominent cheekbones. If the glint of the razor blade sown into his cap doesn't give him away, his violently blue eyes do. They're empty and calculating and cold. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his expensive suit lackadaisically, however, his aura suggests anything but. The way he casually walks towards me reminds me of a predator approaching its prey.

"I was raised Catholic, by a preacher in fact," I dismiss over my shoulder as I walk after the groom. "And I don't know what you're talking about."

He follows me around to the back of the barn, watching as I hoist a pail of water over the stallion's broad withers. He pulls a hand from his pocket, letting it rest on the horse's nose.

"You don't, do you?" he asks, drawing his hand away and holding it up to his nose before tilting it towards me. Fine white powder dusts his fingers. "So you wouldn't know anything about snorting a horse with Tokyo before sending him out on the track?"

I freeze, and for a moment we both stand there, observing each other. A groom walks by and I snap my head towards him. At the last moment, Tommy drops his hand back to his pocket, out of sight. When the groom passes, I sigh, returning back to our conversation.

"What do you do for a living, Mr. Shelby?" I don't need him to answer my question. Working for Billy Kimber, I already know who he is and what he does. I already know that the moment he had become suspicious of the game I was playing at, he could have shot me. The fact that he hadn't yet made me incredulous; almost suspiciously so.

"Same as you. I do business with horses," he says. His cold eyes stare intently at me, almost challenging me to imply otherwise.

I look away. "Mr. Kimber is sorting pay outs with the bookies. I can have someone take you to him," I offer, wanting to get rid of him. Dealing with people of the likes of the Shelbys was always dangerous business, and I wasn't looking for that kind of business. Kimber and the men who worked under him were bastards and crooks like all the rest of them. But Thomas Shelby made Billy Kimber look like a saint.

As part of a mutual agreement, I raced and trained horses under Billy Kimber's name. He made sure my horses were the favorites on paper, and I made sure the horses won. Anything under the table, I had no hand in. Anything under the nose, he turned the other way.

"I came to talk to you."

"Just to talk?" The metallic black butt of a gun flashes from underneath his suit, hidden in a holster against his waist coat. A warning.

"You and that horse cost me two thousand quid today. Last week it was a thousand. I'd rather it not happen again. So I'm offering you a deal." His haunting blue eyes haven't left me. He's being very serious.

"A deal or an ultimatum?"

He almost smiles. A short, amused chuff of a breath escapes through his nose and he saunters closer to me. The stallion's breathing is shallow now, all but a quiet whisper in the stillness around us. We're the only ones left lingering behind the stable. The safe distance I had previously put between us, now diminished.

"Smart girl," he comments, leaning towards me. The praise drips with his smooth Birmingham accent. My throat constricts and I swallow. "So here's what's going to happen. I've already staked claims on the five horses running. All you have to do is make sure this horse, and every other horse Kimber has money on, crosses the finish line dead last next week."

"And why would I do that?" Genuinely, I know why: because he's Thomas Shelby and he's not asking. But a part of me wants to know why he doesn't just take care of the situation himself. The rumor has never been proven, but it's not uncommon for the favorite horse to be found, a bullet embedded in its skull, the morning of the race.

"Once I take on five race horses, I'm going to need a respectable name to entice the betting a little. The people here trust you. You'd have shared ownership in addition to protection under my name."

I shake my head, a little taken back by his forwardness. "You failed to mention my change in employers." One moment he's asking me to fix a race, the next he's offering me a job.

He scoffs, "You work for Billy Kimber, is this really such a bad thing?"

"If Kimber finds out I could be killed—"

"[Y/N]!"

Speak of the devil. My sentence is cut off as Mr. Kimber tears around the corner of the stable, heading briskly for us. His weasley accountant follows close behind him. Fearing the confrontation that is about to occur, I look back to Tommy, but he's already gone from beside me. His hand grabs my arm. "Saint Peter's Church. Tonight at quarter to twelve." His mouth is close enough to my ear that I feel his hot breath against my skin. And then he pulls away, dipping his head curtly towards me and makes his exit, disappearing just as Billy Kimber reaches me.

"[Y/N]!”

Kimber, who despite his polished manner, always gave me the impression that he was filthy; both morally and physically by the way he slicked back his greasy black hair over his forehead, likely to conceal a receding hairline. His constant attempts to touch me made my skin crawl. I want to gag when he draws an arm around my waist, jerking me to his side.

"Who was the gentleman you were talking to? I asked you to go up to the bookies' box after the race. Roberts and I were dealing with some business," he says in his nasally voice, chastising me like a child.

I tip my chin away from him, resisting the urge to shove him away. "A Mr. Shelby," I say, feigning cluelessness. "He said he worked with horses."

“Fucking bastard, Thomas Shelby," he growls. "What did he want?"

I pause for a heartbeat. I can feel Kimber fingers digging into my waist through the thick outer layer of my coat. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

“Thomas Shelby never goes anywhere without a reason," he retorts.

————————

If the streets of Birmingham were dangerous during the day, they were deadly at night. Barren of any street lights, the cobblestone walks glisten with foul sewer water against the moon light. Stray dogs with skin stretched over their ribcages trot along alley ways, and men with broad, soot covered clothes loiter suspiciously outside work stations. I'm grateful for the concealment that the dark trench coat around my shoulders provides. I've lived in Birmingham my entire life, but no one is ever safe. The front steps of St. Peter's Church seem to welcome me with quiet hostility. Seemingly a strange place to meet, but no one would suspect us here. Tommy Shelby is waiting outside the door, gold pocket watch in hand.

He opens the door, gesturing me in silently with his hand. I take a few reserved steps past the threshold of the church. The door shuts quietly behind us. It's empty of course, but the flames of lit candles illuminate the altar. Prayer intentions.

Tommy clears his throat. He's taken a seat in one of the pews. Nothing looks more out of place than Tommy Shelby in a church. The wooden pew creaks loudly into the silence as I sit down beside him.

"So I've impressed you, eh" he says simply, and then it becomes silent again while he waits for my response. His empty blue eyes remain forward, looking over the altar at the front of the church.

"What makes you think I agreed?"

"Nothing happens without me knowing it. You removed your usual jockey from the post list this evening." I don't say anything, but he's right. I had to pay off a few people to keep their mouths shut, but fixing a race isn't as terribly conflicting as it may seem. "You'll be a good addition to Shelby Company Limited," Tommy says assuringly.

"Mr. Shelby, I—"

"But you're a terrible liar, [Y/N]," he adds without changing his tone of voice, still sounding very matter of a fact. "No good Catholic girl would forget to make the sign of the cross when entering a church."

I swallow, my throat dry, only just realizing my mistake. "And you're an atheist in a chapel so what's it matter?"

Tommy's thick, suit clad shoulders shrug, and he leans back, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. "The devil does not know he's the devil," he quotes. He balances the cigarette between his lips and cups his palm to protect the flame as he lights it. "Like I said, I know everything that happens in Birmingham. So when some young upstart began winning big races like the Epsom, naturally I checked into you." My mind begins racing, frantically trying to recall anything that he could have heard about me.

"Your father wasn't a preacher."

“No," I say carefully.

There is a heavy pause as I wait for him admonish me for lying to him, maybe even pull out the gun that I know is resting underneath his suit.

I was raised under the roof of one of the biggest drug lords in Birmingham. My father was a dealer for many of the trainers at the race track. He was found dead in the Cut when I was twelve.

Tommy removes the cigarette from his mouth, and smoke floats from his lips. "We'll win the derby the proper way. There will be none of that business like with Kimber."

Softly, I nod. Drugging the horses was never my decision. Kimber wanted to win at any cost.

And then suddenly he's shifting towards me, the pew creaking in protest. Without his cap on, I have an unobscured view of his perfect face. Hollow cheeks followed by a sharp jaw line and cold, dead eyes. His tongue runs over his soft pink lips before he speaks. His voice is soft but dangerous. "And there will be no more fucking around with fucking Billy Kimber," he breathes out. Tommy's blue eyes hold mine, unmoving. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding in my chest. My face is hot with embarrassment and anger.

Finally, I compose my self enough to speak. "Yesterday I was smart, and now I'm Billy Kimber's whore?" I seethe. How dare he.

He leans back again, no longer eye to eye with me. Solemnly, he exhales and smoke leaks out of his mouth. "Everyone's a whore, (Y/N)." We stare at each other from across the pew.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say with my jaw clenched, and abruptly stand up, tugging my coat around my body as I do so. I swear I see him form something that almost resembles a smile when he sees the flash of a pistol tucked into my waistband. I leave him sitting alone in the church, a thousand conflicting emotions inside my head.

————————

Derby day, was perhaps, my favorite day of the entire year. However, today was an entirely different day than what I was used to. I did not hold the usual excitement at the prospect of one of my horses cashing in its weight in pay outs. Every single horse I had trained would either be scratched or finish last. Except for one.

I watch as Tommy Shelby leans in close to his prized stallion, a nightmarish devil of whom I had the pleasure of meeting just about a week ago. Under Tommy's watchful eye, I'd done what I could to make a winner out of him in a matter of days. The horse was magnificent, he just needed to make it onto the track without tearing into a jockey. Surprisingly enough, Tommy was the only one who could handle him.

“Easy, easy," his voice whispers against my ear, his cheek brushing my own. His hand is pressed against my stomach, holding me firmly against his chest as we move forwards, towards the stallion. He guides my outstretched hand slowly towards the horse until my fingers brush its velvet soft nose. The settling darkness of the evening swallows us whole.

I smile, watching as Tommy holds on to the horses bridle, pulling the beasts face level with his own and murmurs something in thickly accented Romani Gypsy. The words are foreign to my ears, but it feels like such an intimate exchange that I clear my throat to gain his attention. Tommy releases the horse's head from his grasp when he sees me and walks over the short distance.

“Listen, there's been a change of plans," he begins, hands in his pockets. "You're going to head up and watch the race with Ada and Aunt Pol. I've got some business to take care of."

The soft smile on my face drops a bit. "Oh. But you'll miss Gypsy Man's debut." My concern has little to do with Tommy missing the race. But I don't know how else to say I can't let you get shot without letting the words come out of my mouth.

Tommy must read the expression on my face because he reaches over to cup my cheek, his palm cradling my chin in a rare act of kindness. "Hey, hey look at me," he repeats softly. "I'll find you after the race, eh?" Piercing blue eyes stare into mine, trying to seal a promise he won't keep.

I won't allow him an answer, instead staring back at him with a sullen, blank gaze. A partial sigh leaves his mouth, and he leans forward, using the palm of his hand to cup my cheek, bringing my face to his. His mouth is so soft and gentle, smooth with whiskey; I can't help but think he tastes like goodbye. Slowly, Tommy pulls away, his eyes meeting mine again before he drops his hand from my face. My suddenly heavy heart watches him as goes.

Tommy does not find me after the race. I cheer his stallion across the finish line alone and drink celebratory champagne with his brothers, John and Arthur, and his Aunt Polly. I go to bed convinced that he's lying dead in a ditch somewhere.

———————

The knock on my door just past midnight forces my eyes open, and I have to look around to recall where I am. I'd fallen asleep on the chair in the living area of my small apartment. Still in my clothes, I don't bother to grab a coat before cracking open the door. The devil himself is at my door.

“Got any whiskey?" Tommy croaks out. Blood leaks from his temple and drips through his dark eyelashes. One eye is swollen, a bursted blood vessel blossoming red around his blue iris. More blood stains his pristine white dress shirt. He looks like he’s been drug from his grave.

“Bloody hell, Tommy," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose, however unable to hide the relief that he's still alive. "God, come in."

Had I been a better person, I would have shut the door in his face. But neither of us were very good people anyhow. And all I have thought about since he kissed me is that maybe even bad people deserve to be loved.

His first steps through the door are unsteady and I have to rush to his side as he stumbles against a chair.

“I'm alright, I'm alright," he says, shouldering my hesitant hands away from him. "Just get me a drink."

Reluctantly, I back away from him. When I return, he's still leant over the back of the chair. "Here," I say and hand him the glass in my hand. Painfully, he straightens up and grabs it, tilting his head back with obvious difficulty to down the whiskey. Closing his eyes, he swallows as if the liquor has breathed some sort of life back into him. He stands there a moment, just existing in my living room.

Finally, his blue eyes come to rest on me. "Your neighbors didn't see me come in," he states plainly.

“Then you didn't come in," I reply.

Quietly, in no particular rush, he walks towards me. I inhale deep into his shoulder when his arms wrap around me, taking in the aroma of cigarette smoke and expensive cologne. Slowly, his large hand wraps around the column of my neck, his thumb pressing against my jaw to tilt it upwards. My unquestioned obedience is rewarded with a kiss pressed to the side of my jaw and then the firm attachment of teeth to the sensitive skin of my throat. Tommy’s other hand rucks up the fabric of my dress.

“Tell me to stop,” he groans, but makes no move to do such a thing. “I’ll ruin you,” he promises. We’re walking backwards now. I already have his shirt unbuttoned, his widely sculpted shoulders tossing it aside, lost amongst the floor of my hallway.

“You already have.”

And then I let him take me, hands grasping at his cropped hair as we move together throughout my dark bedroom. We continue, completely consumed in each other until my eyes are heavy with sleep, and even then Tommy kneels before me, his hand wrapped around the back of my thigh, kissing the inside of my legs like I’m something holy.

Amused, his eyes look up to mine. “Some good Catholic girl you are.”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peak blinders imagine

53 notes · View notes

vinyldoves · 3 years ago

Text

USE IT

Shelby sister

SUMMARY: AT HER LATEST BIRTHDAY, ELSIE REMINISCES AND COMES FACE TO FACE WITH THE ACT OF GROWING UP.

WARNINGS: sombre mood? Other than that I don’t think there are any, message me if you think I should add anything!

Word count: 760

Part of the Elsie Shelby series

Elsie sat silently on the balcony of Arrow house, looking out into the misty night; the sounds of the party, her and Finn’s party falling behind like white noise. Trust Thomas Shelby to host a bloody ball for his youngest siblings' birthdays.

But she was kind of sick of it. The glitz and glamour. The etiquette. The going up in the world which also somehow meant going down. She didn’t know over half of the people in that room downstairs. Appearance was what they were here for. Reputation and promises of future deals. She wanted Watery Lane back, with all of them living in it. Cramped into the little space and sharing rooms. It wasn’t nice, they would dream of this life. But now they had it? Well, Elsie just wanted her family back together in their old ways instead of being miles away in different homes no longer eating chips on the cut or dancing in the streets on the holidays.

She missed them, and she thinks most of all she dreads growing up. It was all too much too soon, she wished life would slow down a bit.

“Knew I’d find you here eh.” Tommy’s voice cut through the silence as he sat down on the cold concrete next to her, rubbing his hands together and frowning. It was February, and his sister's lips were turning blue. She’d make herself sick at this rate. “It's bloody freezing out here.”

“It's refreshing.”

“You just don’t want to be inside.”

She decided not to respond, humming out an old gypsy tune into the wind. “You know, I’m graduating soon.”

Her brother nodded his head, “I know.” He said gruffly patting her back a little bit too harshly. He was too used to roughhousing with john.

She continued on. “And then it's University. Or a job.”

“I know.” Really, Thomas, she wanted to say with a roll of her eyes.

“You're not getting it.”

He sighed in frustration, pulling a hand over his face, he loved his sister but she wasn't exactly direct was she? He had people to talk to and he was starting to freeze. “What is there to get then eh. Little one?”

“I don’t want to grow up. I want to stay like this forever. And I miss how everything used to be, and everyday is a step further away from that isn’t it?”

Now he was getting it. He felt a tug on his cold heartstrings. He didn’t want her or Finn to grow up either. But they were, and there was nothing any of them could do about it. He sighed and pulled her closer, arm wrapped around her smaller frame as she leant her head on the crook of his neck. “There’s a whole world out there for you to explore El. A whole fucking world you wouldn’t get to see if you stayed this age forever. Thought you wanted to see Paris and America? You’ve had those bloody postcards up on your wall since you could walk.”

Despite everything, Elsie Shelby smiled off into the reminiscent night, “Of Course I do, Tom. I do, I really do it’s just-”

“Just what?”

“I miss us all being together, you know? Eatin’ fish and chips on the cut and playing stupid games in the streets and the party’s on the lane and-”

Her childhood. She missed her childhood, and despite what was waiting for her, what Thomas was excited and terrified for her to see and experience, neither of them could get that time of innocence back. It had been too long and their hands too red and wallets too rich. “I miss it too.” He spoke slowly, catching the flash of surprise on the young woman's features. “But you need to grow up, and you’re right. Maybe this new world isn’t entirely ours but that doesn’t mean you can’t use it, Elsie.” His tone turned stubborn. “And use it you will. Use it to go travelling or to university if you want.”

She said the next part slowly, cautiously, “and if I want to help around more in the family?”

He sucked in a breath, but she could make her own choices, as Poll always said. “Then we can discuss that another time, but for now, you have time to decide what you want. We aren’t rushing anything Els; now go have fun.” He shoved her to the door and back into the warmth of the house, catching her before she turned the corner. “Elsie? We’ll always be here. This family. Don’t matter where you are.”

#the peaky blinders #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #polly grey #michael gray #ada shelby #finn shelby #isiah jesus #shelby sister #shelbysisterimagine

145 notes · View notes

inkyblinders · 4 years ago

Text

Together with You

Gif credits to @peakyblinded and @captaindelafere

Pairing: Johnny Dogs x Reader

Requested by: @anythingwriter "I don’t really have a specific plot, but definitely a y/n reader. Ummm maybe where the reader is his wife or something and everyone loves her bc she’s just so sweet?? Idrk lol but I’m sure it’ll be great whatever it is!!"

Author’s note: The story took me a while to plan out because I didn’t want it to be too generic, you know? Also we don’t know too much about Johnny Dogs from the series. It’s a little different from what I’m used to, but I hope you like it! My requests are still open for everyone as well :)

Summary: Johnny Dogs and you spend a day at the Cheltenham Races (555 words).

Warnings: None

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a lovely day for a fair, you think to yourself as you watch the lords and ladies mill about by the refreshment stand. They weren’t royalty, to be sure, but it’s what you and Johnny have grown to call these people, with their top hats and jewels and posh affectations.

You can hardly believe it’s only been a year since you were one of them. But one day you traded your silks for linen and your coiffed hair for sensible braids, and haven’t looked back since.

Just then, three little figures blur past you.

Johnny Dogs tries to chase after them while balancing a drink in each hand. By the time he reaches your table, he is huffing and red-faced, muttering under his breath in a good-naturedly sort of way.

“Little wolf cubs, I tellya. Give them a coin and all of a sudden they forget who their Da is.”

“Oh Johnny, they’re children. And it's a fair day, after all.” You sigh contentedly as you slip the lemonade. It is perfect.

“Let’s take a walk around the grounds,” Johnny stands up, clicks his heels, and offers you his hand in an imitation of a perfect gentleman. You accept with a little curtsy.

The Cheltenham Races. Most of the spectators are already at the horse track, cheering for their favorites and slipping in a bet or two. Normally Johnny would be whooping right along with them, but today he is content just to be with you.

Before long, you arrive in the large white horse tent where you wave a hand in greeting to Johnny’s cousins, who are currying the ponies they’re planning to sell. Seeing the horses patiently standing as their coats are brushed brings back a memory from a year ago. You wonder if Johnny is thinking the same thing.

“Do you remember Tully, my love?” He asks.

“Of course,” you laugh as you lean against his shoulder. “She nearly kicked you in the head while you were shoeing her, right there in that stall.”

“Only because I couldn’t stop looking at your pretty face.” He winks.

“Are you sure it wasn’t the pearls in my hair you had your eyes on?”

“Why no! That horse could have bit my arse and I wouldn’t have felt a pinch, so enchanted I was by your beauty.”

“Ah! So it’s just my beauty that entranced you, then?” You tease.

“Aye, at first, sure.” He admits, “But then it was after that I fell in love with you... Because you were kind and helped me up on my feet when the other lords and ladies just laughed...”

“...Do you regret it?”

Seeing his suddenly earnest look. You realize he isn’t talking about that day, but the year that came after. You sigh in exasperation as you reach out a hand to your husband's face.

“You’re a good man, Johnny Dogs.” You say simply. “A good man and a idiot.” You lift your toes and kiss his cheek. Gypsy life is hard, but there is nothing you couldn’t bear with Johnny by your side.

With his arms around your waist, the two of you follow the scent of cotton candy and popcorn and walk into the crowd.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinder imagine #johnny dogs

91 notes · View notes

delta-roseblr · 3 years ago

Note

Lol, all the new info about the solangelo and delix kids made me want to have a fic just about them. So I was wondering if that would be possible? xD

Hello, Anon!

I know it has been forever since you sent this prompt, but it wasn't forgotten!

I hope this is worth the wait

_____________________________________________________

The Kids

· Because Solangelo and Delix both set down in California, Solangelo in New Rome and Delix stays in Northern California; they see each other a lot, as do their kids.

· The fact that Michael and Lee (Nico and Will's twins) and Mason (Felix and Dean's son) are a little more than a year apart just added to their drive to get together as a family. The kids could entertain each other, and they always got along well. The twins were challenging to entertain when they were little, so this is a big deal.

· Will and Dean always figured the three of them would always get along because, well, that was how they were, but Nico and Felix had their doubts. They figured that as the three got older and if (when) the twins started showing their demigod powers that they would drift.

· Nico and Felix turned out to be completely wrong, and the three just got closer as they got older.

· You would think, since Mason is the oldest of the three, he would take on the leadership role in the group, but that isn't how it works out. Mason is a pretty even-keeled kid. He definitely got Dean's tendency to want to put his head down and do his work. He can and does take the leadership role during team things like sports but not when the twins are involved.

· The twins are a damn handful from the moment they are born, and they never really change. Both of them are outgoing in their own ways. Lee is more competitive and will jump at the opportunity to take on a challenge, while Michael is more social- he can (and will) start a conversation with pretty much anyone he meets. The two are also a perfect storm of trouble because Michael will come up with an idea like they should buy fake ids and sneak into a club, and Lee will view it as a challenge, so he wants to do it, and they will absolutely find a way to talk Mason into joining them. Mason definitely tries his hardest to keep them out of trouble and manages to be at least somewhat successful sixty-five percent of the time.

· The twins love showing up at Mason's mortal school events, so even though they do not go there, most of Mason's classmates recognize them. They are also pretty much honorary members of Mason's lacrosse team. While Mason gives them shit for being menaces, he really likes when they show up, it definitely stops things from getting boring.

· Mason visits New Roman as well, even though not as much because going to New Roman can be a process as a mortal going to New Roman. Still, he has teamed up with the twins and a few of the other children of the seven around their age to case a little harmless trouble on the weekend.

· Btw, Dean has had several conversations with a teenage Mason about precisely what to do if he finds himself being hit on by a horny god (with very specific things to say to Apollo or Dionysus). Mason considers these the most embarrassing conversations he has ever had with his days. It's bad enough that his middle-aged dads still act like teenagers half the time and CAN'T keep their hands off each other. He doesn't want to hear about how Greek gods had tried to bone them back in the day. Grandpa Solace jumping in with "Just remember, Apollo isn't nearly as good in bed as he claims, and you can take my word for it" doesn't help with the awkwardness. He would rather have to go through the birds and bees talk a million times over.

· All three of these boys are NOT STRAIGHT. Michael is gay, while both Lee and Mason are bisexual. It's hard to say that Michael or Lee "came out" because it happened so organically. There was no sit everyone down and tell them moment. Instead, it was just "I LIKE like that boy" or "that boy is really cute" when they were like twelve. Mason takes FOREVER to admit this to himself and even longer to admit it to anyone else. Michael and Lee KNOW way before Mason admits to anything, and neither of them lets him hid from it. Lee tries the comforting approach hoping Mason will admit it while Michael goes more the exposure therapy route- he'll point out cute guys and ask what Mason thinks. He tricked Mason into going to a few gay events without Mason knowing until it was too late to back out.

· FYI, Mason comes out to Lee first, but only because they get into a fight because Lee is flirting with a boy; Mason secretly has a massive crush on (or at least he thinks it's a secret, but everyone can tell). Michael is solidly pissed about this for months, but that doesn't stop him from trying to play matchmaker.

Dribble:

The rain had stopped, and Mason supposed he should have been happy about that, but the lingering sense of tension and danger made it hard to appreciate. He, Michael, and Lee had already walked one block north of Gypsy Bar, and Mason was hoping as they put even more distance between themselves and the bar that sense of unease would dissipate at least a little.

They had been walking in silence for several minutes. That was a rare thing, and Mason hoped it meant that it was one of those rare occasions that his cousins were thinking about how horrible their idea had been, but Lee killed that hope the moment he opened his mouth.

"Well, we had to try," Lee declared.

Mason looked over and up because, of course, Lee was at least three inches taller than him. That would have been more annoying if Mason was at all insecure about his height, but at six foot he was comfortable. Also, he had a couple of inches on Michael, which helped.

Lee's hair looked practically white instead of its usual light blonde under the street lights' harsh glare, and his complexion seemed extra fair. Even his freckles were lost in the artificial light. Not surprisingly, there wasn't a single sign of worry on his face.

Maybe if Mason had Greek god powers, he would have been relaxed too, but he didn't. That call for adventure that Lee and Michael had just seemed like asking for trouble to Mason, the mere mortal. "Not with the worse fake IDs in history," Mason pointed out yet again.

"They were not that bad!" Michael was quick to defend.

This was not the first time Mason had heard that, and it didn't make it any less ridiculous. One of Michael and Lee's dads was literally a doctor that could heal people by touching them. There was no fucking excuse for their inability to see what was right in front of them. Why Michael had even bought the IDs, having seen them, Mason would never understand.

"They looked like they were hand-drawn by a preschool," Mason pointed out, "And the names were ridiculous."

"Pictures didn't look much like us," Lee agreed.

Michael let out a long, loud sigh, pushed a dark strand of hair that had fallen out of his ponytail and into his eye line, and tucked it behind his ear. While Lee looked like the stereotypical California surfer dude, Michael almost looked Mediterranean. He had light brown hair that he had grown out over the last year and now almost exclusively wore tied up, and he naturally had a more tan, almost olive complexion. Even with the differences, it was impossible not to recognize the two as twins immediately. They both had the same sharp facial features, lean and athletic builds, and light blue eyes.

Mason was the obvious odd man out in the group. His hair was somewhere between a light brown and a dark blonde, and his eyes were hazel rather than blue. His build was boxier, and he was definitely wider in the shoulders than his cousins, but that might have been because he had been playing lacrosse since he was eight. His facial features were also a little more square and angular. It might not have been a stretch to believe the three of them were related, but no one was going to mistake them for triplets.

"Okay, that is enough with the pouting," Michael declared with just a little bit of annoyance in his voice. Mason was a little surprised it had taken that long because usually, the more outrageous and destined to fail one of Michael's plans were, the more annoyed he got when it did, in fact, fail. "At least we got a fun story out of it," he stated.

Knowing Michael, he really did see that as a win which was crazy. Mason fucking loved his cousins. They were literally his best friends and really always had been, but sometimes they were crazy to be around. Mason put that on all the demigod stuff. After all, if you have literally trained to fight monsters since you were a little kid getting fake IDs and trying to sneak into a twenty-one and over club probably didn't sound all that crazy.

Mason wasn't exactly a fucking nun. Sneaking into a bar didn't sound completely crazy but trying to get into a bar known for checking IDs with comically bad fake IDs did.

"We are lucky they didn't call the police," Mason pointed out flatly. The bouncer had decided to take pity on them for some reason after giving them one hell of a fucking lecture, and Mason would forever be grateful. "Or worse, our parents," he added with a shutter.

"What are you worried about?" Lee asked with a laugh, "Uncle Dean and Uncle Felix would have been totally cool."

Mason gave Lee a serious look. "Nothing about my parents is cool," he stated firmly, "No matter how many people say otherwise."

"You really are a master of denial," Lee commented teasingly before patting his shoulder and adding, "It's kind of impressive."

The fact was Mason was well aware that his dads were pretty cool. If they had been called and told Mason had been caught with a fake ID trying to sneak into a bar, they probably wouldn't have even yelled at him. Neither of them were big yellers. Mason would have gotten one hell of a disapproving lecture which Mason was convinced was worse than yelling ever could be. He definitely would have lost a whole bunch of privileges for the foreseeable future.

Unfortunately, Mason had been hearing about how cool his dads were since he could remember. The fact that Felix getting early releases of video games all the time helped. Dean always bringing Mason and his friends for ice cream after practice when he was younger didn't hurt. As he got older, he just became the one with the cool parents in all his friend groups. It got old after a while, and that was before the term DILF started getting thrown around.

He would have been more annoyed if it was anyone besides Lee and Michael. They had it just as bad as he did, even if it was slightly different. Uncle Nico was practically a legion among Demigods for all the questing he did as a teenager, and even if he had just sat on his ass, he was still the son of Hades, which was a big thing. Uncle Will didn't have the history with all the questing, but he played an important role in some battle, which was enough to give him some fame. The twins had to deal with their fair share of people going full-on hero-worship over their dads, and then there was the fact that Uncle Nico had worked as a model for like five years.

Mason might not have been truly pissed off, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to flip Lee off for that comment. He did grin as he did it, at least so it was clear that it was all good.

They had walked about half a block as they had talked, and they made it about a block more in silence before Michael huffed. "So what are we going to do now?" he asked. Mason went to answer but barely got an opportunity to take a breath before Michael held up a finger to cut him off. "And the answer of going home is not allowed, so just don't even say it," he stated firmly.

Mason didn't get why going home, playing video games, ordering a pizza, and hanging out was such a bad idea. His dads were out on a date night, so they probably would have had the house to themselves, not that that mattered. According to Michael, that was just not an acceptable way for them to spend their evening, and in fairness, he had made that clear before then. That didn't mean that wasn't exactly what Mason had been prepared to suggest, but he wasn't really surprised that Michael warned him not to before he got a chance.

Mason stopped and looked around to get a feel for where they were. Since they were in West Berkeley, it was more his stomping ground rather than the twins. If it were New Rome, the twins would have a list of places they could go and things they could do, so he guessed it was on him to at least come up with one suggestion.

If he was honest, he only had a vague idea of where they were, and it wasn't a part of the city he visited often, so he didn't have the best idea of what was around. Ultimately, he went with the first thing that came to mind. "There is a really cool vintage bookstore like two blocks from here," he stated, pointing in the direction he thought it was.

It might have been the first thing he had thought of, but Mason didn't think it was a half-bad idea. He had been to the place a few times with Dean because Dean had a radar for little bookstores, and it didn't matter what they were doing or where they were supposed to be; he had to go in. It was such a well-known fact that Felix always looked up where bookstores were when they went on vacation so they could plan when they went. The little bookstore that Mason couldn't remember the name of had actually been pretty cool.

"You found an answer worse than go home," Michael commented flatly, "Why do you hurt me like this?"

Mason rolled his eyes because now Michael was just overdramatic. "They serve coffee and stuff," he informed.

"Coffee actually sounds pretty fucking good," Lee admitted, which was a good sign. Of the two, Michael always wanted to do something big and over-the-top. Lee could be like that sometimes, but he was more likely to see reason when Michael was just suggesting something crazy. Usually, if Mason could get Lee on his side, he had a chance. If Lee backed Michael's idea, then it was only a matter of time before Mason agreed to whatever insanity had been planned.

Michael stared between Mason and Lee with clear disapproval. "We can not go from trying to sneak into a 21 and over club to drinking coffee in a used bookstore," he stated with disgust before just shaking his head with disappointment, "Honestly, what is wrong with you two?"

"Okay," Lee declared, managing to sound just as unamused by Michael as Michael was with them. Lee was infinitely better at dealing with his brother when he was being dramatic than Mason was. "How about we go into that pizza place-" he pointed past Mason toward a small pizza place just across the street from where they were standing, "-and talk to the cute girls that are walking in."

"Well, that doesn't sound like fun for me!" Michael grumbled as he turned and assessed the option for a split second. "Oh, there is a couple of boys that could be cute! I don't hate that idea."

Mason gave in and turned to see what they were talking about and immediately wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "Oh my god, could you too stop staring," he hissed as he turned his back on the scene and hoped no one saw him.

They should have gone to New Rome.

Of course, both Michael and Lee were staring at him, and he knew they were going to ask. Neither of them was precisely known for letting things go either.

"What?" Mason shrugged, sounding more defensive than he meant to, "They are people from my school."

Michael and Lee exchanged a look that was never a good thing. It was one of those weird twin silent communication things they would do, and it usually meant they were about to tag team, Mason. It never worked out well.

"You know them?" Michael asked, although he managed to give the question far more weight than such a simple question should have had.

Lee was even less subtle as he stared at Mason with obvious suspicion, "How come we don't know them?"

Obviously, Michael and Lee didn't go to Mason's high school because they were in New Rome, but they hung around with Mason enough that they knew all of Mason's school friends and a fair number of his classmates. It wasn't necessarily weird that they didn't know someone that Mason knew from school, but it was a more rare occurrence. On this specific occasion, it actually made a lot of sense because they were people Mason only recently started getting to know.

"It looked like Theo and a few of the other kids from the theater club," Mason explained. Mason was not a theater kid. Even if he had wanted to be, he never would have had time with lacrosse and soccer. Since he was a junior and apparently would benefit from diversifying his afterschool activities (so saith his guidance counselor), he joined the AV club and somehow ended up helping with the school play, so he got to know some of the theater kids over the last few months. Not a big deal in the slightest. "And for the record, you two aren't entitled to know all my school friends," he pointed out just to prove a point.

Michael and Lee exchanged another look.

"Theo?" Lee questioned.

"Interesting," Michael commented.

Mason's heart jumped into his throat. Had he said that name? He hadn't meant to, but it must have just slipped out. He was absolutely fucked because the twins weren't going to let that go, and that was the last thing Mason needed. Theo was just a dude with great hair that made Mason feel weird sometimes, and he didn't want to talk about that.

Play it cool, Mason told himself through his internal panic. He shrugged, which felt like the most unnatural gesture ever. "He hangs out with a lot of the AV kids helping with the play," he explained. More accurately, he hung around many band kids helping with the play, and Mason had to adjust the audio equipment a fair amount. After talking a few times, Mason may have invited him to hang out with the AV kids, and the guy took him up on that. There was no fucking way he was telling Lee and Michael that story. "I've learned his name. It isn't a big deal," he stated. That at least was true, and no one would convince Mason otherwise.

Michael and Lee were silent for a long moment, just staring at him before Michael broke the silence. "You know what? Pizza sounds fantastic," He declared before turning on his heels and starting across the street. He was halfway across before he called over his shoulder, "And I love a good theater club. Always fun gays."

Lee patted Mason on the shoulder, which turned into him practically pushing Mason forward toward the pizza shop. "So, which one is Theo exactly," Lee asked in a mischievous tone.

Now Mason wished their wrong fake IDs had worked.

16 notes · View notes

iwannaholdyoutight- · 4 years ago

Text

The way to Emmeline and the story of how Pierrot fell in love with Columbine

Summary: a dead sunflower field, a masquerade ball and a love spell. Witch!H with Fairy!reader.

Word count: around 6k

A/N: This is the first part of my contribuation to @stellarboystyles 3 year celebration. My thrope is masquerade ball.. Btw this is witch!harry with fairy!reader that is an OC because I ended up picturing her in certein way and it became part of the plot (the color of her hair). But this is a very soft story that made me feel very soft while creating this magic world.

Somewhere, right at the rainbows end, you will find yourself walking through the colorful path to Emmeline.

A land where woodland creatures could live without fear of the human race. You see... There was a time where humans and magical beings lived together. But prejudice and fear of the unknown and powerful made people start to hurt those with glitter blood.

That’s when all those different creatures ran away and ended up together.

As soon as you find yourself in Emmeline, you will find a little cottage made out of wood. That’s where all the witches and warlocks live, or, Rhiannon’s daughters and sons, as they like to call themselves. For you to be a witch, you have to be born from a family of witches or fall in love with one. Then a bit of their power will pass to you.

Most witches prefer a life of a Gypsy, never stopping in one place. But the few who like to have a place to call home, they choose Emmeline.

If you walk further into the woods you will find yourself meeting the ones who are born from nature: the fairies.

There are different types of fairies: the ones who are born from flowers, others are born from mushrooms and others from butterflies.

The ones who germinated from a seed will have the gift of nature and poetry. They can grow and heal plants and turn anything into something beautiful. They are always colorful. Nature is their mother, so they all consider each other sister.

The ones who are born from mushrooms, have the power of colors and creativity. Music and dancing are always present in their life. Also, they make a l good tea that will make you see the world even prettier and feel like every single thing is more than it meets the eye.

And, last but not least, there are the ones who are born from a cocoon, kindly called the butterfly daughters. They can fly and that is the reason why they never actually are around.

But that night they were all going to be together because of the masquerade ball in celebration of the magic new year: October 31st, halloween night They celebrate their union, drink and dance all night with enchanted masks that make people not see them and yes the character they decided to dress as. It’s a night of love and friendship because there is no bad blood between fairies and witches.

Except two.

“OUCH DO YOU HAVE TO BE SUCH AN ASS?” Screamed the sweet yet scary voice of Maya that was floating across the room without anyone to help her

“Well you said you needed a witch to help you float the yellow lights to the ceiling… I have no problem if you have no power”

Harry was lying on the floor, enjoying the view of the fairy, using his hands to make her move around the ceiling, together with the little golden stars. Her pink curly hair was all around, with gigant brown eyes staring at him with horror.

“I went to Stevie asking for help because I DO have fairy powers that I was born with it”

And with that she shut Harry’s smile down. Him and Maya were enemies at first sight. She was raised in Emmeline, born from a beautiful pink gardenia that matches her hair. Raised together with all the flowerchilds and Harry was a witch, a very resentful one when it comes to the matter that he wasn’t a “pure blood”: back in the 1500s he kissed a witch during a ball and her power was transferred during the kiss, she didn’t want to be an immortal anymore. But it wasn’t till the end of the millenium - the year was 1994- that Harry found the Emmelime city. Now he was one of Rhiannon’s sons and was very close to one of the eldest witches: Stevie.

She didn’t have a problem with him, only knowing him by name and by the enamored whispers from everyone: “he is british”, “he has green eyes”, “he is so pretty you should go by his little house, he is very receptive”. But it was only his third day in the little village when he ruined one of her plants while high thanks to the tea the mushroom a fairy gave him. He fell off the tree right on top of the new plantation of sunflowers she was rising with her power: her first BIG plantation.

Harry tried for days to apologize: with food, with music, with potions that would make her feel all glittery inside. And her answer was always the same: can you make my sunflowers grown again? And sadly the answer was always no.

26 years later he sort of learned how to hate her - even if he always thought she was beautiful and kind, she was never nice to him and it burned his feelings. Being rejected from all the clans his whole witch life because he wasn’t a “pure” one made him resentful.

And Maya was never able to plant sunflowers again. Every spell, every potion, every prayer. She even tried to plant the seeds with the help of her sister Blanca - a sunflower child: but no success.

So she hated him with all of her pink glittery heart.

Harry got lost daydreaming about their story of hate at first sight from Mayas point of view that he forgot about the girl so he just shook his left hand in a circle then closed his fingers in a fist and gave a little whistle and the fairy fell to the ground.

“Did you have to be so vile? I could have died”

“You’re an immortal, darling, you can’t die”

“I could have been hurt and then I would miss the ball”

“I’m not that heartless, I would make you a potion to fix whatever bone you had broken” he looked at the girl sitting on the floor with a frown in her face “you need any help getting up?” Harry asked with such a sweet voice she almost couldn’t believe he could be so... soft.

“I can get up... what I need is for you to be serious for once in your life and put those damn starry lights I made floating all around otherwise I’ll…”

“You’ll what...call my mom? She has been dead for over 500 years. But sure be my guess she is buried in the small cemetery from my hometown”

“You know what? Fuck you”

She was storming off the gigantic room the masquerade ball would be taking place later tonight when he called her name, the pink haired girl looked back at the the tall man wearing a white tunic with Indian pants. He gave a small smile, snapping his fingers and in less than 5 seconds all the lights she had on the floor were up in the ceiling, making it look like it was a very starry night, just like the painting.

Giving him a nod she left the place and he whispered to himself “if I could only plant those sunflowers with a snap of my fingers”

................................................................................................................................

“And the worst part, Blanca, is that he just made me fall on the ground just like he fell all those years ago over my sunflowers”

Blanca was sitting down on her bed, in her very white room with flowers and glittery light everywhere, from the window she could see the butterflies dancing… those gossip motherfuckers, they wanted to hear more about Emmeline’s favorite drama: Harry and Maya. There was a big bet about when they were going to realise they were actually in love with each other.

“Don’t you think you are a bit too resentful towards him?” she asked while her pink haired friend was fusing over the butterflies, trying to shoo them out of the window “I mean… everybody is in love with Harry, all the fairies all the witches are in love with them, I know a lot of them that always tried to put a love charm on him...and never works.

“That only proves my theory that he doesn’t have a heart”

“Or his heart is already filled with love for someone else, you know how potions and charms work: it can only work if the said person has the soul free to be enveloped by the words of the spell or the mixture of a potion”

“And how do you know so much about witchcraft, miss Blanca?” Said Maya with a flirty tone, already knowing the answer but she would give ANYTHING to change the conversation and not have to talk about no longer.

“You know I’m dating Florence, that witch that also came from London”

Florence got to Emmeline just a few years ago, together with a few friends. She was always kind and sweet, Maya liked her very much. Actually, if the blond girl didn’t share such a bond with Harry - they were very close - Maya knew she would always be around her little cottage, because she loved how it was full of sunflowers, the only plant she can’t create.

“She is very nice, are you guys going to dress up like a couple for the ball?”

“Of course we will… I’m going to be a witch and she is going to dress up like a fairy”

“I can’t believe you guys are going to do this… so cliche”

“Come on… we’re cute” Blanca said with a wink of her eye and a bashful smile “I can’t wait to experiment the power she holds, she is sweet but you know… she has like… a way… sweet yet dominant” Blanca was laying down on the the bed, looking like she was remembering a very private memory “you know we actually we are going to be each other in everything today? Even inside the bedroom”

“God… I miss sex”

“It’s been what… 5 years? The last one was the butterfly fairy, the french one, right?”

“Yeah… he was a attentive lover but it just wasn’t working, he would come here once in a while and we would fuck, it was good, but then I just wasn’t that much into him. I never was, actually, just an easy fuck”

“I think you are too much of a kinky fairy to be with another fairy”

“Yeah but most of other witches have already found their partner and I’m not the one to intrude in one’s relationship”

“I know someone who is willing and if the rumors are true… is a very very very kind and passionate lover, even if it’s just a one night stand”

“Don’t start, Blanca” Maya was back on her feet, looking down at her best friend. “I’m very happy for you and Florence but I do not wish to be in a relationship with another witch, especially if the other witch is… him”

“I don’t know how do you are almost 80 and you still haven’t learn that we do not have a power over what the destiny chooses for us, you could just admit you have feeling for him”

“I do… feelings of hatred. He destroyed my sunflowers”

And with that Blanca gave up helping her friend, knowing that she had to go to the one person that knew of their secret. She couldn’t talk about her knowledge on the matter, so she just had one thing left to ask: “so… what is your costume for the ball?”

Maya gave her a happy and excited smile and started blabbering about her outfit.

At the same time they were having this conversation, just about 1 mile away from them, Harry was sitting in a dark room, full of stones and plants,with candles laying in every single surface, being the only thing lighting up the room. He was playing with a very purple crystal ball, looking at the images that showed up. Ever since he got his first one, back in his early days of witchcraft, a gift from the woman who gave him her powers (till the day of her death she taught him everything about being a witch). The first thing she gave him the purple rounded stone, she told him that was the colors of his soul and whatever he saw in there was what his soul was longing to have. And Harry always saw, one way or another, the color pink in everything and also a lot of sunflowers. Pink like her hair, sunflower like the plantation he destroyed. He knew he had some sort of mission with her.

Playing with the ball in his hands, he looked at his lap, where his familiar sat, a cute little guinea pig called Betsy. It was a welcome home from Stevie the moment he got into Emmeline.

“What is it, Betsy?” she was leaning against the magic artefact “do you want me to make it work?” a little sound… “yes”.

With that, he held the ball with one hand, the other getting one of his plants, to first clear the energy, then he looked at the immensity of the purple before closing his eyes, concentrating. Imagining a white light involving him, from the tip of his toes to his hair. When he felt like his own soul was levitating, opening his eyes he said the words: “aperi pectore expuli, ostendere animae meae”.

Open my heart, show me my soul.

With those words a little purple fog started to leak from the magic artifact, making his dark room glow like the twilight sky during spring, the smell of tulips reaching his senses. Suddenly he saw what he always did: the forest, the flowers, the pink hair, a sunflower field (with flowers that weren’t dead). Normally the vision ended here but this time the fog only got more intense, he felt like his body was lifting, flying over the sky, looking at the happening from the last year. He could feel his own head spinning, trying to make him go deeper and deeper inside his own soul.

There was a path going down, he knew what it meant: he needed to dig deeper inside his own mind. The path was his own story, his own thoughts. His body was separating himself for his spirit, letting him move freely. That was the moment Harry was able to see: a painting of Pierrot and Columbine dancing around, together, in a masquerade ball.

Pulling himself from the immersive spell he looked at Betsy and told her one single thing: “I need Stevie here. Now”

................................................................................................................................

The blonde woman was sitting next to a tree, watching the river reflect the midday sunlight, looking like small diamonds. She stills remembers the time mermaids were alive, before humanity decided that there was no worth in being good, letting the powerful take over everywhere, losing the essence the universe - so kindly - gave them. She is one of the oldest witches from human kind, she remembers everything and even if she couldn’t get old, she put a spell on her, so she could look older than most of her little forest town.

Mother the woods, some would call her. But, the true story was that her heart was always too big, there was always room for another person to be apart of her family. But, she could admit she had a few of them closest to her heart. Like Harry, he looked so lost when he finally found the way to Emmeline. He didn’t have anyone for him, so she decided to be that person. That’s why the moment Betsy came looking for her she just ran to him, she knew he needed her, and what he told her made Stevie so happy: his soul was finally ready for the journey, and it was all happening tonight.

“Did you send for us?” she heard the sweet voice of Blanca, walking hand in hand with her girlfriend, next to a black cat named Luna, Stevie’s familiar.

“Yes, I think it’s time”

“Do you think they are ready?”

“Harry had a vision while questioning the mirror of the soul, he saw Pierrot and Columbine. Blanca, darling, what is the costume Maya is planning for tonight?”

She looked at the girl, who looked paler than usual:

“She's going as Columbine. A white dress with little black hearts made out of glitter”

“And I was helping Harry making his for week now… you two can guess what he’s going as”

“Pierrot” they both said in unison.

“But, Stevie, isn’t the end of this tale sad… like, they don’t end up together?” questioned Florence.

“No, the true story, the one from the italian Commedia dell’arte, they end up together. But that’s not what I’m talking about… they are more connected than ever, Harry’s visions are getting more clear. How is Maya with her powers?”

“She still can grown those sunflowers”

“For someone so smart, she is quite stupid if she doesn’t know they both have a part of each other souls. Harry’s familiar also has a necessity to always go after her, sometimes when she is growing flowers around her house and plants start to grow near him…”

“What spell are we going to use?”

“I know just the right spell,” said the older woman.

................................................................................................................................

She could see the lights and the beams. Everything was shining so bright. Right at the entrance of the ball there was a sign: “may the masks show your true essence” with a potion underneath.

That sounds like mushroom fairies. Not today.

“Don’t you look beautiful” she heard a melodic voice

“Florence you look so pretty as a fairy”

“And you look beautiful as a pantomime character”

“Did you know it’s my favorite tale?”

“Why is that”

“The Pierrot crying because he is in love with Columbine in the middle of the crowd and she is able to sense his pain from far away… it just makes me believe in love. You know? One soul for everybody”

“Aren’t you romantic,” Florence said while using her hands to fix and friends pink hair. While doing so she started to say the words Stevie told her to, the words that would make the powerful spell work.

“You know, if there is one single truth about soulmates: if magic strikes maybe once or maybe twice you have to hold onto it. Because if it’s in the tarot and in the stars, hiding your soul from what it seeks makes you think that love is, in essence, its opposite, which is hate. So, for tonight, I wish for as long as you are Columbine for your soul to outshine your tour thoughts and for you to feel it for everything you always did but couldn’t admit, ille amor consumit te caput ad pollicem”

Let the love consume you from head to toe

“Did you just casted a spell on me, Flo?”

“Maybe… maybe not. Maybe won’t work if you don’t love anyone”

“Well… it’s going to fail but nice little verse”

And with that Maya walked towards the middle of the ballroom, looking at the little floating stars, appreciating the vast colors of the place, pink and blue pastel colors, glitter and the faint smell of lavender.

Suddenly she felt like a rush going through her body, an unfamiliar feeling setting in her stomach, that’s when she felt warm hands on her back:

“So the Pierrot is no longer crying in the middle of the crowd. Who are you, my little Columbine?”

When she turned around she saw the same green eyes she spent so much time thinking about and hating how it made her feel uneasy. But, now, under the fake stars and lights, everything felt different. With his black and white suit and a glittery make up - a little draw of a black tear down his left cheek, adoring the constellation of his freckles.

She knew his name, she knew his smell, she knew of their story. But there was something in the way her heart was beating so loudly… there was something different. Like she couldn’t control. Not anymore.

And she didn’t even know if she wanted to, either.

“Hello, dear Pierrot, how are you on this fine evening?”

“Better now I found a pair so I’m not the lonely Pierrot. And how are you, little Maya . Or should I call you Columbine?”

“Call me Columbine for tonight we aren’t a witch and a fairy who share feelings of hate. We are Pierrot and Columbine. And they are in love”

In the middle of the ballroom, filled with so much laughter and joy, he was the same Harry dressed as Pierrot, looking at Maya, like it was the first time.

“It’s close to midnight, will you join me as my partner for the new year dance?”

She took his hand. Yes.

The New Years dance was the way Emmeline lives the joy and hope of a new year. Instead of a countdown, Stevie would sing for them for the next 3 minutes, while they went around being free and loving every second of it. Normally that was the part Maya liked the less, because most of her friends and sisters had significant others. So she was always alone.

When the subtle sound of the harp began, they started to move. The big clock on the wall, showing the position of the universe with its stars, planets, moons and even black holes, was counting down the seconds to the new year. The world was spinning, everybody was moving around the Pierrot and the Columbine, but, inside their eyes there were only them and the stars.

With bodies moving in synchrony Harry was caught in thoughts of forever, because now, it was clear. He always had this pull towards her. She is his forever and he could only hope his love wouldn’t pass as unrequited. He could not survive this.

If she wanted to, he would make Maya his. His little baby, his fairy, his pink little love. With her shining glory and his red essence. They would be perfect for one another. If she could only see this.

She looked at the clock and then back at Harry, she was feeling nervous but also she had never felt so calm. In his warm body Maya felt engaged by a protection spell and nothing could ever hurt her. But, what changed so suddenly? They were fighting just this morning and now she was clinging to his body. The love spell had worked. She needed to find Florence and ask for it to be reversed, it was wrong, she shouldn’t feel what she was feeling. Because, if the spell worked that meant they were each other’s mirror. And she didn’t do well with that perspective. In that moment she saw the time: 20 seconds to a new year. The song was ending. But a new phase was beginning.

“It’s almost midnight”

“True” he told her while playing with her hair “you know… humans have a tradition” oh “and they kiss when the clock strikes midnight. And I was wondering… if I could kiss you”

She was hypnotized by his smell, his sweet honeyed voice. By his eyes that were always so green that made her shy. He was the closest thing to perfection and now it just made sense why so many witches and fairies had their way with him. Why so many tried to cast a spell on him. Why so many tried to be what she always was.

10 seconds now

“If we kiss I have this feeling that everything is going to change”

“Aren’t changes good?”

9 seconds

“I want to kiss you but I’m afraid of what will I feel”

8 seconds

“Whatever you feel is fine as long as is with me and only me”

7 seconds

“You can kiss me”

With his thumb caressing under her eye she felt like he was trying to call me her down

6 seconds

“Protecto” he whispered and out of nowhere he enveloped then in a purple glittery cocoon. He was making her feel comfortable.

5 seconds

“You are the most fascinating creature I have ever met in my 500 years of life upon this earth”

4 seconds

“And you are the most annoying one”

3 seconds

“Aren’t you a romantic

2 seconds

He got closer, his nose touching Maya’s. The glitter cocoon spinning around them

1 second

There was no going back and she didn’t want to.

“Happy New Year, my pink dove” and he kissed her.

Maya has had her fair share of kisses but nothing ever felt like the feeling of him. Sweet and hungry. A perfect compilation of opposites. The caress of his tongue was welcomed with joy, his hands touching her back, holding her waist, holding so close to him, like she could vanish at any second now. She was feeling his lucious curls, so long and so so soft that someone would believe he an actual prince, not a witch.

With two pecks to her lips he let her go, opening his eyes, heart beating so strong and holding her gaze that was already waiting for him.

During the kiss someone had broken their cocoon and now they both had glitter all over them, but neither was actually caring. They were seeing each other for the very first time. A new year, indeed.

“Would you care to miss the party?” Harry asked “I made blueberry cake and I would love for you to meet Betsy”

“We are eternal, we have many new years to live, lead the way” holding her hand, he walked her towards the exit, turning around only to find Stevie, who gave hum a little wink with her left eye. Of course she was in the middle of this. He knew it was a love spell that made them loose their strings and prinde, finally admiting the true behind their hearts. That was the reason he wanted to get her in a quiet place, if they were going to do this, he wanted to know she was his, beyond any spell or trick. He needed to know if she loved with at least an ounce of what he felt.

The walk was quiet, the full moon was shinning so he didn’t felt the need to cast a light spell. The woods were talking, the wind blowing aganist the trees and the animals, they were happy.

“Is it true you can talk to plants?” he asked her

“Yeah, it’s one of my powers... why?”

“I think the nature is happy today, something in my hearts tells me so, but I hold no power over nature beyond what was given to me” Harry was feeling shy, his curiosity was getting the best of him and he was afraid she would judge him

“Do you want me to talk to some of plants?” nodding his head he took her hand to a bloodflower “you know, this one atracks butterfly the most” she told him

Letting go of his hand she sat on the flor, putting both of her hands on the floor, feeling the soil, trying to see if the flower was awake and if it wanted to talk.

She was awake but she was a bit dry

“Harry before I talk to her, can you put a bit of water on it” she called him Harry, not Pierrot, the spell was faiding and he could only hope their newfound love didn’t fade aswell.

With a snap of his fingers a little cloud was made over the flower, raining a little bit, then vanishing with the wind.

“Hello, are you feeling better now?” Maya asked with a sweet voice, the plant opened more showing its petals as a way to thank the couple.

“How do you actually comunicate with them? Like you ear their thoughts?”

“No, I feel what they feel, and she feels safe here with us. Come one, put your hands here and try to focus with your heart and mind”

“I’m not a fairy”

“Just try, come one. Sometimes I can pronouse witches spells and actually works and I don’t even know why. So with his left hand he carressed the petal but never taking his mind of the pink haired girl and he felt his heart race at the same time he felt like the little red and orange plant was trying to show him something.

“My heart is beating so loud... what does that mean when you touch a flower and you feel this?”

“Love”

................................................................................................................................

After saying goobye to the flower, walking hand in hand, they got to Harry’s little cabin. Made out of woods it had a small living room with a little couch, books everywhere, stones, herbs, charms. Betsy was nowhere to be seen, maybe she wanted to give them privacy. The dark walls were contrasting the pink of her hair but she looked like... home. Like she belonged there.

Turning around to look at Harry she felt this need to kiss him, she was feeling such a strong love for him, she couldn’t hide or pretend anymore, so she want for it. With her hand pulling him towards her, Maya kissed him.

This time with hunger. This time with power. This time to hold onto him in the most intimate ways.

With their height difference being so big, Harry helped her to get on the couch and started to assault her neck. With his hands carresing her neck and her hips.

“Can I touch you” he asked her

“Please” So that’s what he did. Kissing her and letting his hands explore her like the most searched treasure map , slowing coming closer to her breasts, first touching her lighting, then gripping with a strong yet caring hold. Feeling her, trying to read her body. When his fingers reached her nipples he lost it, kissing her neck with intent, marking her, showing her this was it.

“Take off my clothes, please, please” she said in a fant voice, too caugh up with pleasure. So that’s what he did, with his hands he took everysingle piece of clothing they both were wearing. Using his streight to take her to his bedroom.

Maya wanted to analyse every little thing about his home, but at that moment, with his lips making a long waited jorney across her body, she knew she had to to this in the morning.

He kissed, he touched her. She whispered how much she wanted them. He gave her anything and everything. Kissing her tights, her most private parts, using his tongue, and his fingers, using anything to make her shiver to make her want him even more.

When they were finally one, Maya lost a bit of her control over her powers making petals of the same flower they talked earlier fall over them in a shower of love and desire, Harry loved that he made her feel like that so he only encraised his powerfull movements.

In that moment that was only a verb they could conjugate: to love.

................................................................................................................................

The sun is almost up, the spell was vanishing, they were no longer Pierrot and Columbine. They were Harry and Maya.

“Hey, Harry... I think I should go back to my place?”

“Won’t you stay? We can have breakfast together”

“Why should I?vWe can’t be Pierrot and Columbine forever”

“But we can be Harry and Maya”

She looked sad, she knew about the spell.

“But the thing is... we’re not” he looked at her with confused green orbs. So she told him about the words Florence told her.

“You know... that spell does not change a thing, because it only made us say and do what we always wanted to do” he took her hands, playing with her fingers, adoring her white glittery nail polish, trying to keep everything memorized because he knew she was leaving. His visions were wrong, she wouldn’t stay “but if you wanna leave, it’s okay. You can go back to hate me but I won’t hate you, well, I won’t pretend that I hate you when the truth is I love you with my hole soul”

She was quiet, looking around his room. Trying to keep something with her when she left but her legs weren’t working. The way he had deep red walls and paitings from his many years of life upen the earth. The deep black sating sheats and the beautiful naked man adorning the dark satin. And when she looked at him she saw his light, his golden light. She was seeing his aura. That was a power witches held, so why she was seeing his aura.

“You know, even your aura is pink”

“And yours is gold”

Harry understood at that second that there was no going back. They were connected now. One can only see the aura of their true love.She could leave and he would hurt forever for part of him would leave with her. So he decided to try to get her to stay.

“You know, sometimes I daydream that you come into my room and just lay down next to me. And I always feel so happy about it. Because if you ever come and visit me, at any given time, I would let you. I just want you in my life, I have this pull towards you. I just need to get to know you.”

He paused se he could put her messy hair behind her left ear

“When I fell over you sunflowers I felt terrible. Because not only I made you hate me, I thought I lost the chance to be with you. But, if everything we went through is because now we’re slowly walking, with no rush, to a path full of love. I won’t ever hate you. I will always cherish you. Because if you want me, truly want me, let me know, because when it comes to me I just need to tell you that you will have in me a friend, a lover, even a personal brewer when you want some nice potion to make you feel dangly inside”

“You don’t understand. I want to be with you, but how can you be the one to match my soul if you killed one of the things I love the most:”

The sunflowers. It the end it would always be about those flowers. And Harry will hate himself every second of the day for the rest of eternity if he doesn’t fix it

“Will you every give me another chance? Just one? Can’t you see how we fit? You don’t find this anywhere, damn it, it’s so rare for fairies and witches to be made for one another but when they do... it’s perfect. Look and Blanca and Florence. You have my heart in your hands, every piece of it, even the parts I don’t even know about. It’s you, it’s you you you. Everything is for you. Everything is about you”

She was quiet, but she was still holding his hands.

“I will spend the rest of eternity with you trying to grow sunflowers, they won’t be kept in our memory because we will plant new seeds from our love. One chance. Just one chance”

Maya got closer, touching his forehead with her, her eyes golden from the sun that was entering the room from its window

“So... what changes?”

““Everything’s still the same, nothing changes. Except now, I get to hold you, and kiss you, and show you much I love you.”

With that she kissed him, and they kissed till the sun was high in the sky. With her on top they were moving together in the most intimate dance one could ever share. They were one and while they were kissing and making love to one another pink and gold mixed together, healing their pass and plating new seeds for future filled with love.

Maya was the first one to wake up, with Harry’s familiar on top of her, asking for attention:

“Hey, Betsy, what is it?”

The little animal went to the window, so she followed and when she saw it, she couldn’t believe it:

Sunflowers. Everywhere.

She didn’t even knew she was crying till she saw a tattooed hand holding her face:

“My dove, why are you crying”

“The sunflowers. We made them”

“You finally gave your sunflowers”

She gave him a small kiss

“Our sunflowers, my love. Our sunflowers”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING. DON’T FORGET TO REBLOG AND TALK TO BE ABOUT IT AND READ ALL THE OTHER FICS FROM THE CELEBRATION AND GO ON AND GIVE @stellarboystyles CONGRATULATIONS

ps: the last part was not prof read, sorry...

#harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #stellarboystyles3years

69 notes · View notes

tazzytypes · 4 years ago

Text

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 16

Hey guys! So sorry for the delay -- if you follow me on Tumblr, you know that it has been a battle trying to get time to work on this next chapter. Between school and work, the burnout is strong this semester and the senioritis definitely doesn't help. Is it just me or are teachers putting a lot more on our plate than they did last semester? Anyways, here's chapter 17 -- This chapter is shorter than usual, but I hope you enjoy it!

Read more on AO3 or find more chapters on the Masterpost!

Stevie’s voice echoed throughout the salon, the woman standing on the same part the brunette witch had once laid. Emily had yet to decide which was more improbable, Stevie Nicks serenading them or the fact that she had gone to hell and back. She stood on her own in the corner of the room in an attempt to ease her nerves. Having something at her back was reassuring, similar to huddling under your sheets as a child. She wasn’t sure, however, which boogeyman she was hiding from.

They all seemed so unfazed. Hell was but a mid-week grocery run. Stevie singing more akin to listening to your sibling practice for an upcoming recital.

Myrtle, Zoe, and Queenie sat poised in the corner of the room, so still that she might have mistaken them for an oil painting. Cordelia and Madison were similarly stationed on the other side of the room, Madison standing by the staircase and Cordelia standing by the door. Misty sat on her own, directly in front of Stevie with tears brimming in her eyes. It wasn’t hard to see that the woman was obsessed. In fact, it quite surprised Emily that Misty had yet to faint.

Stevie Nicks — The White Witch — sang Gypsy. Emily had heard it a thousand times before in her car, in her room, in supermarkets over the intercom, and she was listening to it yet again. Emily was a witch, she had been to hell, she had fought a demon, found out that her dreams were never really just dreams, and now she was watching Stevie Nicks sing. The fever dream continued and the young witch was just along for the ride.

So still was everything that it was hard not to doubt her own mind. Even the warlocks were perched with bated breath, Behold on the stairs and the others above them. Pennypacker was the only one in motion accompanying the siren that was Stevie fucking Nicks. It was impossible not to stare at her. Still, Emily’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker up to the new Supreme. Blue eyes met hers before flicking away. Michael’s expression was firm and stoic. Her friends back home would have called it “resting bitch face,” but she felt there was more to that expression. However, Emily didn’t know him enough to quite define what.

He had been quiet since Cordelia awoke — not that he was particularly chatty to start with. Michael and Ariel were perched above them on the balcony. The Chancellor’s gloating had yet to clear from his face, his eyes flickering to Cordelia again and again. The former Supreme did not indulge him, keeping her eyes firmly set on Misty as if she might disappear. They must have been close, Emily concluded, for her to look like that.

“I knew you for such a short time, but I have missed you forever,” Cordelia had said. It almost made Emily feel bad for doubting the headmistress — almost.

Emily looked around the salon and grabbed a glass of wine. She doubted anyone would comment on her underage drinking. It was the least she deserved after the day’s events.

The distorted voice of a thousand tongues still rang in her ears and her desire for answers burned her with every breath. Grabbing a second glass, she gave into the fire. Her feet were light as she made her way towards the stairs. No one noticed her leave… all except one.

Michael’s gaze was nothing short of sharp, but there was something else to them. She had seen it in hell, reflected a thousand times over in the mirrors that lined the halls of purgatory. It only flashed across his face for but a moment, but she had seen it clear as day.

Michael Langdon was afraid.

Even now, his back to her as she came to the top of the stairs, she could feel that fear. It was anxious and tense, always on alert. The kind that kept you from everyone and everything. It was a fear Emily was all too accustomed to.

“It’s hardly fair,” She spoke, Michael turning only slightly towards her in acknowledgment of her presence. Holding out one of the glasses, Emily came to rest beside him. Stevie continued to sing and the others continued to watch, unaware of their conversation or pretending it wasn’t happening. “This should be for you. Celebrating your success. They usurped your victory with a victory of their own.”

Michael accepted the glass of wine, nursing it in his hand as he leaned on the railing. “I have a feeling this won’t be the last celebration we’ll have. No offense to you witches, but I’d much prefer something with my fellow warlocks.”

He watched her carefully. What had his father meant? A gift? He was supposed to wipe out the witches, not join hands and sing kumbaya. Her eyes focused on him but quickly flitted away back towards the revelry.

Emily shrugged. It was a fair point. She assumed celebrating with strangers wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time.

“Still,” she said, doing her best to pretend she couldn’t feel his eyes on her, “Enraging, isn’t it… or, at the very least, frustrating.”

“How did Cordelia find you again?” he asked.

Emily pretended not to notice his once-over. Ignoring the question told the young witch all she needed to know. She chuckled and shook her head. “Someone left an anonymous tip. Apparently, there’s a hotline or something… 1-800-is-this-a-witch.”

Michael smiled, a lopsided expression more to signify that he heard her than out of actual enjoyment. Emily’s hazel eyes once again flickered away from his and to the floor before gazing out at Stevie once more. Michael followed her gaze and they rested in a brief, comfortable silence.

“You should be more careful about who you stare at,” She said, so low that the boy-wonder barely heard her speak. Her eyes flickered back to him, the light of the fire accenting a ring of gold around her pupil. “and who sees you doing it. Especially in a crowded cafeteria.”

Zoe had told her about the tip, naturally. It had been one of the many things that ran through the brunette’s brain since she arrived at the academy. A normal person wouldn’t have a good enough sense of witchcraft. Hell, Emily hadn’t even heard about Robichaux before her sudden transfer. Thus, the only logical conclusion was that the anonymous tip was also a witch… or a warlock.

Emily would be lying if she said that the look on Michael’s face didn’t amuse her. She hadn’t been sure at first, but now there was no doubt. Names were something she had always been bad with, but faces? Faces she always remembered. Especially when they were pointed out by a friend as, “that boy who keeps looking at you.”

Michael’s lips twisted and his brows furrowed, his eyes immediately going to survey the witches below. They remained unmoving; eyes fixated on the performance. No one's gaze flickered upward. There were no poorly concealed whispering.

“Do they know?” He noted.

“No.”

Michael finally turned to look at her fully. Either she had something up her sleeve or had yet to learn of the safety that came with dishonesty.

“Why?”

Emily thought for a moment. It was a good question. The coven had been nothing but kind, but something in her gut twisted whenever she thought about baring all her thoughts out to them. She wanted to call it intuition, but it wasn’t as if she could ask Cordelia or even Zoe to confirm that particular assumption.

“They’re very opinionated,” She finally decided,” Everyone is. I need to come to my own conclusion.”

“And what is the question you are trying to answer?”

“What game you’re playing,” she said, surprised when the thoughts spilled past her lips. It was the wine, she imagined. “It’s akin to chess, but I can’t quite place the name of it.”

Michael simply smiled, a detached and unemotional expression. “Maybe one day.”

“Maybe, but for now… congratulations.”

Once again, her words made him pause. She was the first to congratulate him… even among his fellow warlocks. He quickly spoke to hide his surprise.

“To surviving hell,” he said, holding his glass out for a toast. Emily cautiously clinked her glass against his own, the action just as hesitant as when she had taken his hand.

“Did you know,” She spoke again after taking a sip and trying to hide the grimace the bitter drink provoked, “historians speculate that toasts were once used to check for poison?”

“Last I checked you brought the wine, not me.” Michael said, “unless this is a confession to attempted murder.”

Emily looked at him for a moment as her mind comprehended what had just happened, mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. Michael felt almost proud of the result.

“No, that’s not—” She let out a sigh and pinched her brow, “I ramble when I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous?”

“I just got back from literal hell. My nickname in high-school was Satan, but that was just a joke.”

Michael laughed. A genuine laugh, not just the ones you did to fill the awkward silence. He tried to hide the expression, but his lips couldn’t help but twist into a small smile.

“Think of it this way,” he said, leaning a bit towards her as they continued to talk, “you’re prepared for the day your time comes.”

“That’s hardly reassuring.”

She took another drink, not bothering to hide her expression of distaste. Emily leaned back on the railing so that she was facing the stairs as if she were expecting someone to sneak upon them. Looking over her shoulder, she stared at her new Supreme and waited for his rebuttal.

“They all have the power to escape their hell,” he said, looking back at the festivities below, “they just choose not to.”

Emily’s brow furrowed, “How do you know that?”

“Call it a gut instinct.”

A silence lapsed between them, both observing the people around them. On this balcony, everything felt so detached. They were but spectators in their own lives, barely retaining control.

“Hell’s personalized, yeah?” Emily finally noted. Michael didn’t look at her, but she could feel his eyes boring into her. He was probably annoyed with her, but for once she couldn’t bring herself to care. “What do think your hell would be?”

“What would yours?”

“I have a few ideas.” The brunette’s lips twisted a bit, a purple hue now forming on them from the wine. “The never-ending hall was close.”

“What was that about, anyway?” Michael found himself asking before he could think. “You said it was purgatory.”

She could only sigh, her eyes bugging a bit as she tried to think. How crazy was crazy? She didn’t even have a basis for comparison anymore. Better yet, how did she even begin to answer?

“I had a dream once. There was a never-ending hall filled with beings that hadn’t been human for so long that they now looked more like shadows. I had to walk down that hall with a basket of… something.” Emily explained. The glassy fog seemed to appear for a moment in her eyes, but she quickly shook it away. “I’d rather dissect a frog for eternity.”

“You have a surprising lack of sympathy for a witch.”

“I don’t know whether I should take that as an insult or a compliment.”

Michael laughed and shook his head. Emily mirrored his expression for a moment, but it quickly fell as her eyes settled on the stairwell. She must have only been in that hellish void for a moment, but it felt like she had been writhing in it for eternity — screaming bloody murder for someone to save her. The shadows of this place taunted her, a predator that could consume her at any moment. Sleep was not going to come easy that night.

“Pain is relative and so seems is hell,” She said, voice detached and distant once more. The change made Michael perk up, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “She was in pain… I will be in pain. I am simply jealous of the outlet in which that pain comes in.”

“Envy is surprising as well.”

Emily smiled, wry and humorless. “What can I say? We can’t all be perfect.”

Michael didn’t respond to that, his eyes narrowing onto movement below them. He couldn’t see Cordelia from this position, but he could see Madison. The witch looked back with a confused expression as if someone had thrown something at her back. Her eyes flickered back to Stevie for a moment before she took a few steps back and disappeared out of his view.

Emily followed his gaze, seeing the tail end of Madison disappearing below them. “What do you think they’re plotting?”

“You don’t trust your own kind,” Michael said. A statement. Not a question. Emily simply shrugged.

“I’ve known this world for two months,” She said, “I don’t trust anyone.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” She agreed with a crooked grin, “Though I suppose not leaving me there in hell earned you a few points in the right direction.”

“Witches zero, warlocks one.”

Emily made a face, lips curling and head cocking in contemplation.

“You’re about an even tie at this point.” She said.

Once again, the silence consumed them. They had gotten used to it, she presumed. Emily wondered how time worked in hell - things had certainly felt like an eternity. It was enough time to make her feel different, somehow. Her eyes flickered to Michael as he stared into the distance. That was a better question for Cordelia, she presumed.

With a sigh she turned back towards Stevie, allowing herself to be serenaded once more. The song came to an end and they watched as Misty shot up and began clapping. Stevie smiled at her and held out a hand which the woman gratefully took, practically skipping towards the singer.

“You think she’d let me take a photo with her?” Emily asked. Michael gave her a befuddled look, brows knitted and nose scrunching. She didn’t notice the look at first, too focused on the scene below them. When she turned, her face immediately mirrored the boy-wonder’s.

“It’s Stevie fucking Nicks,” she said, tone defensive, “My mom was a huge fan of hers.”

Michael simply rolled her eyes and Emily scoff at his ignorance. Bringing her glass to her lips, she tilted her head back and downed the rest of it. She grimaced and shook her head before placing the glass on a nearby table.

“Come on,” she said, nudging his arm a bit and making her way towards the stairs, “you should get one, too. Hang it in your office when you become Supreme.”

Michael turned around to look at her. “You really have no idea of how things work, do you?”

“A month ago, magic was a distant dream of childhood,” Emily spoke, giving him a pointed look and gesturing to the room around her, “I’m in the midst of a train wreck which is my reality.”

That was enough to make Michael chuckle.

“You’re quite the poet.”

Emily could only laugh at that, rolling her eyes for good measure, “Whatever you say, Mr. Supreme.”

The girl’s change of personality was enough to give one whiplash. She had been so timid before they performed Descensum, barely able to meet his eye and cautious as a mouse. Then again, the drinking probably had something to do with it. Michael wondered what she saw in those few moments she had been alone in hell.

Emily waited expectantly. With a sigh, Michael gave in to her demands. Behold looked to them as they descended the stairs. He had seen the brunette pass him on the way up. The suspicion he had before was still evident in the way he looked at her, but now it was accompanied by a hint of surprise. Witches and Warlocks were natural enemies, after all.

Misty’s back was to them as they approached, the only thing visible of the woman being her curly hair and flowery shawl. She and Stevie seemed to be in a serious conversation. Everyone seemed to be in serious conversation, talking to one another in hushed whispers.

Michael followed after Emily, hands behind his back. He regarded the room, eyes scanning over the occupants as their eyes flickered towards him. It would be harder to sneak around now given his new position. He’d have to adapt. Sparing a look back towards the balcony, he found Cordelia settled into her corner of the room once more. Madison was nowhere to be seen. Whatever conversation they had concluded. His expression soured ever slightly. Emily must have been a diversion.

“Excuse me,” the brunette witch spoke. Stevie Nick’s presence seemed to have sobered her somewhat, timid nature returning. Michael turned his gaze back towards her, feeling the eyes upon them. “I don’t mean to be rude, but could we get a picture with you? My mother is a huge fan — practically grew up with your songs as lullabies.”

Misty was beaming, whatever conversation she had with the White Witch obviously going well. She bit her lip as Emily came to stop beside her as if it was the only way to keep herself from spilling every last detail.

“Anything for a fellow witch,” Stevie said happily. Emily reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Misty happily took it from her as Michel awkwardly stood to the side. With a sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced to his shoes then back up to the balcony. Ariel smiled at him and rose his glass. Michael offered a strained smile in turn.

His attention was pulled away by movement out of the corner of his eye. When he turned, he found Misty waving him over.

“Your turn, Mr. Supreme!”

Michael could only sigh at the nickname but still walked towards Stevie with a strained smile. He was stiff next to the woman, something that seemed to amuse Emily.

“Congratulations on the promotion,” Stevie said as Misty directed them into place, her eyes focused on the camera, “Descensum is a dangerous spell. The last time I visited this coven, it didn’t end well.”

Misty turned to Emily as she took the photo, showing the results to the brunette who smiled and thanked the woman. Michael pulled away from Stevie, the forced smile quickly leaving his face and into something more amicable. Misty showed him his pictures and he just offered a smile and nod before the woman handed the phone back to Emily.

“Where are my manners,” Misty said with an awkward chuckle, motioning to Stevie as she realized the awkward silence building up, “This is Stevie, of course. And Stevie this is—”

Misty paused for a second as she looked to Emily, “Well I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Emily,” The brunette introduced, holding out a hand to Stevie, “I’m new.”

The musician smiled and took Emily’s hand.

“You have a musician’s fingers,” Stevie noted.

“Oh, I’m not—”

“Can’t lie to me, child. Not only am I familiar with these things, I’m a witch as well. What do you play?”

“Only a few things,” Emily admitted, pulling her hands away and allowing them to settle at her side.

“What was your first?”

“Violin,” she said, “tried piano, but couldn’t quite catch on.”

“You’ve certainly fiddled with the devil today,” Stevie noted, turning to smile briefly at her biggest fan, “You were one of the ones who saved our Misty, weren’t you?”

Emily glanced towards the boy-wonder before returning to the woman, “Actually, I was just an unintended side-effect. Michael did all of the work.”

The brunette stood back towards the man as if to guide Stevie’s eyes, biting her lips and looking to him in apology. His eyes flickered from Emily to the other two women, noting their hesitation.

“In that case,” Stevie said, ignoring the way Misty looked between herself and the new Supreme, “Thank you very much. You have done a great deed for this coven. Misty is one of the most powerful witches I know.”

Her tone was cool and icy. Emily couldn’t help watch the two as the tension was drawn between them. It was as if the witches knew something she didn’t. It was infuriating.

“The pleasure is mine,” Michael said, articulate and direct as if he were giving a speech instead of a conversation. The whole interaction felt like a bravado, an act. “Such is the job of the Supreme.”

Emily was pulled away from the conversation as Misty linked their arms together. “So, you’re a fan of Stevie?”

The brunette allowed herself to be distracted, “Not as avid as you — or so I’ve been told.”

“Oh she’s—” Misty said. Her eyes darted once more to Stevie, then Michael, then back to Emily. She squeezed the brunette’s arm for emphasis. “you know how some songs just make you feel like dancin’? That’s Stevie for me.”

Another glance was given towards Michael, Misty’s ever-present smile faltering for just a moment.

“How are you feeling?” Emily asked.

“I’ll be better once I see the sun,” Misty said, pulling her shawl tighter around her, “Anything’s better than this damn candlelight.”

“If I stay down here any longer, I may just go blind,” Emily agreed, doing her best to be reassuring. She tapped the rim of her glasses with her free hand. “Not that my sight was great to begin with.”

Misty smiled at her and squeezed her arm once more.

“So where did Miss Cordelia find you?”

“Georgia.”

“You’re used to the humidity, then.”

Emily nodded, “Too familiar. You from Louisiana?”

“Born and raised,” Misty sang, “Spent most of my life living off the grid in the swamp.”

“Is it more peaceful?”

Misty smiled awkwardly and gave a nod towards Michael and Stevie. The pair were still talking, Stevie leaning back ever slightly and Michael standing with his hands behind his back.

“Certainly has less politics,” The swamp-witch said, earning a small smile from Emily. The two lapsed into silence. Emily was quickly overwhelmed by the sounds around her, head turning a bit to break free of the crackling fire and roar of whispers in every corner of the room.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Misty spoke, pulling Emily from the chaos, “What was your hell like? I’m assumin’ it's different from everyone. I mean, there was a boy in my chemistry class that seemed to enjoy… well, you know.”

“Do they have dissections in chemistry?”

“He was an avid learner.” Misty said, “or, at least, that’s what his parents called it.”

If the horror of childbirth wasn’t enough to dissuade Emily from having kids, Misty’s comment was enough for her to swear them off entirely.

“It’s all a blur, honestly,” she said, returning to Misty’s question, “All I remember is a door by the River Styx then—”

“Styx?” Misty asked, nose crinkling and brows knitting. Emily opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a boisterous voice from above.

“I believe this would be a good time to make a toast,” Ariel spoke from above them, clearly enjoying the control he had over the room, “In celebration of old friends and new…”

Emily found her mind wandering as the man spoke. Misty hadn’t known what she spoke of. Was it because of descensum? No, it couldn’t be. From the bits and pieces she had been able to collect from her fellow witches, Misty had lost her life performing the same task they did.

Hazel eyes flickered back to Michael only to find him staring at her in turn. Emily didn’t know how to feel about that look in her eyes. She had seen fear, but that was the most dangerous expression a person could wear. It meant they would do anything to get themselves out of a corner. Michael was a snake sizing her up. Was she a threat or his next meal?

Madison awoke in the night to muttering. In all honesty, she hadn’t had the chance to fall asleep in the first place. While she wore the title of “cold bitch” with pride, the fact that Cordelia looked to her for such a monumental task was suspicious at best. Well, she was a powerful witch — powerful enough for Fiona to think she was supreme.

Her hand went to her neck instinctively. The swamp-bitch’s shit was enough to remove all signs of trauma, but some days Madison swore the gaping wound was still there. Being strangled to death the second time probably didn’t help the fact. Neck-related trauma seemed to be her shit.

With a sigh, Madison tossed and turned, throwing her sleep mask off the side of the bed. This place was darker than fucking night, anyways.

She had just settled back to sleep when the muttering came again.

“Can you can it, Persephone?” Madison snapped, “Some of us want some fucking beauty sleep.”

“Finis venit,” she heard again, somewhat slurred and groggy, “Ante infinitium.”

“Look, Satan,” Madison snipped once more, pulling her phone off the bedside table and turning on the flashlight, “Go the fuck to sleep before I shove my foot up your—”

Madison wasn’t scared by much. She had been to hell where she worked in customer service and given a hand-job to Harvey Weinstein. However, when the light landed upon her temporary roommate, she was, at the very least, startled.

Emily was almost going full exorcist. Sitting straight up from the blankets in which she had made her bed, her eyes stared lifelessly ahead.

“Fenis venit,” she said again, a drunken-like slurring to her voice, “Ante infinitium.”

Then she fell back and resumed snoring.

“Fucking freak,” Madison scoffed, turning off the light and pulling the covers up.

She should have roomed with Zoe.

“How’d you sleep?” Zoe asked Emily as they all stood outside the academy. Two bodyguards packed their things into the car and Emily could only shift from foot to foot as she watched them.

The younger witch’s eyes flickered between the bodyguards and her mentor. Why did they need bodyguards, anyways? “Fine.”

“With Madison?” Queenie said, letting out an incredulous laugh on Emily’s left, “yeah right. She had you sleep on the floor, didn’t she?”

Emily’s eyes flickered to the ground and her lips pursed together.

“… Maybe.”

“Girl, you went to fucking hell, but you’re going to let a blonde bimbo push you around?”

“It kind of worked out,” Emily said, “She snores.”

Madison, only a few feet away from the trio, scoffed loudly and rolled her eyes. Queenie could feel the starlet’s eyes boring into her back.

“How loud?”

Emily’s eyes flickered back to Madison whose nostrils were flaring as she glowered. She expected the look to silence the girl.

“Like a bear.”

Queenie laughed and even Zoe couldn’t help but snort. Madison crossed her arms and huffed, stomping her heel into the ground in protest. She looked like that dog in 101 Dalmatians — the one in the beginning with its snout in the air pompously.

“At least you don’t have to share a room with her,” Zoe said, leaning in close but not bothering to lower her voice, “Did the earplugs help?”

“Very.”

“Whatever,” Madison snapped, “at least I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“And?” Emily said, finally turning to look at the woman, “that’s quiet… and amusing, if you think about it.”

Madison’s eyes narrowed and she took a few steps towards her. Emily sighed as she recognized the signs of a square-up, the woman coming until she was barely a foot away from the brunette.

“You know they have a saying about bears and sticks,” Madison said.

Zoe took a step towards the two, “C’mon Madison. Can’t you just chill for like five seconds?”

“That you should wave one around at a black bear, but not a brown bear?” Emily asked, crossing her arms and ignoring Zoe entirely, “Really important distinction, I’ve heard.”

Madison frowned and narrowed her eyes. The next thing Emily knew, the end of her skirt was on fire.

“What the hell, Madison!” Zoe yelled, quickly moving to perform a counter-spell. However, as soon as she began to cast it, the fire was gone. Emily hadn’t moved an inch, her eyes still firmly set on Madison. She didn’t… she couldn’t… could she?

“Consider it a lesson,” Madison said, crossing her arms and smiling smugly.

“In what,” Zoe exclaimed, “bitch-craft?”

Myrtle’s voice silenced any further retorts, coming to stand with the group with Cordelia at her side. “Can we wait to start the petty squabbles once we get out of this damnable place?”

“Whatever,” Madison said, clipping Emily’s shoulder as she pushed her way towards the car, “I call shotgun.”

Cordelia spared a glance at the other three witches and they followed Madison’s lead obediently. Zoe squeezed Emily’s shoulder as she passed, offering a reassuring smile.

“How are you feeling?” Cordelia asked once the women were out of earshot.

Emily didn’t have a snappy response for that one.

“Different,” she finally decided after a few moments of consideration.

Cordelia patted her cheek. Her eyes were sad as if she knew what the girl had gone through. Emily didn’t like when people presumed things like that.

“The pain will fade.”

“It’s not the pain I worry about.”

“Then what is?” Cordelia asked, brows furrowing.

“The fact that everything made sense there.”

Cordelia opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a shout from the car.

“Come on, Delia,” Myrtle called, “The plane takes off in two hours.”

Smiling and nodding, Cordelia squeezed Emily’s shoulder. “We’ll talk more later.”

The brunette had barely a moment to think before she felt a weight over her shoulder. Jumping a bit, she turned to find that Misty had swung an arm around her. The girl was all grins, constantly looking up to the sky and spinning around as if she were dancing from the second they stepped outside.

“Don’t worry too much about Madison,” She said as the two sauntered towards the car, “She’s always mean.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Wonder what her hell was.”

“Retail,” Emily said, “or so she said. Kind of generic, don’t you think? Then again, generic would probably be an insult to her. Irony, I guess.”

Misty laughed, “I like you. You’re funny.”

The ride to the airport was eventful. While all the girls were tired and ready to go home, a playfulness emerged from their delirium. Cordelia sat near the front of the car, talking in hushed whispers to Myrtle as the rest of them held an avid debate in the backseats. She would glance back at her girls now and again via the rear-view mirror.

“You should really get that checked out,” Emily said, turning back to the starlet, “Snoring is usually a sign of breathing problems.”

Stationed at the center of the car, the newest addition to her family seemed to be blooming. Cordelia had never heard the girl speak so much. She had worried, naturally, the effects hell would have on the girl's psyche. However, her instincts had been right. Giving the girl something to conquer had done Emily some good and revealed more of the magic in her bones.

Madison huffed. “I don’t snore.”

“Like sleep apnea or something?” Zoe asked, clearly reveling in any conversation that pissed off her former roommate.

“Kind of,” Emily said, “when you snore it's because air can’t get through your air passages properly and causes the surrounding tissue to vibrate… or floppy airways.”

“Hey, Madison,” Queenie shouted between chuckles, looking back to the tiny back seat the starlet had been shoved into, “You got floppy airways!”

“At least I don’t have floppy skin.” Madison snapped before grumbling, “Will probably live longer, too.”

“The fuck did you just say?”

“Actually, the belief that weight is correlated with health is inaccurate,” Emily said, “Correlation does not equal causation. Also, haven’t you died three times already?”

“Here’s a question for you,” Madison said, “Do you know how to mind your business?”

“Depends — Do you know how to not be a bitch?”

Queenie let out a barking laugh. Misty giggled a bit as well, leaning into Emily with a smile.

“Almost always,” She whispered to the brunette.

“What did you say, swamp rat?” Madison demanded, taking off her sunglasses just to glower at the pair. She much preferred it when Emily was nearly mute.

“Girls,” Cordelia finally sang, feeling a headache coming on, “can we please save the bickering for when we get back to the academy?”

“Sorry, Miss Cordelia,” Misty quickly apologized, shrinking in her seat.

Madison was anything but apologetic. “Emily started it!”

“Like hell I did!”

“Girls!” Cordelia exclaimed, the whole car falling into a tense silence. If not for the gentle rumble of the engine, one could hear a pin drop. The silence was quickly interrupted by a nearby car slamming into their horn.

“Still quieter than Madison’s snoring,” Emily muttered quietly, a chuckle leaving Cordelia despite herself. Looking in the rear-view mirror, Cordelia watched as Misty leaned into the brunette and whispered something in her ear. Emily smiled and whispered something back, Madison loudly scoffing in response.

She made the right choice, letting Emily into the academy. Still, something the girl had said was stuck on repeat in her head, “…everything made sense there.” Misty had said the girl had used powers in hell. Emily had told the headmistress of her dreams, but Cordelia had also been to hell. It was no dream, not in the slightest. It was real as anything.

Cordelia’s eyes flickered to the back seat, watching her girls. She couldn’t help but wonder if Michael was the one truly rising or if fate had a different future in mind.

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon

14 notes · View notes