#dizzy treamine

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Ginny Gothel prompt: “I have such soft hair and nobody is playing with it!”

Obviously involving disaster threesome.

@humaforever I’m tagging you here since you asked for similar prompt, hopefuly you don’t mind.

Anyway. Ginny Gothel. If you were wondering what’s wrong with her, she’s massively iron deficient, through definitely absolutely NO fault of her mother’s. (She’s probably also high, but psst.) (She’s not okay.)

I didn’t mange to write Harriet into the actual plot, she’s only mentioned, but this is very much disaster threesome story. Just saying.

I hope you enjoy!

„My hair is so soft,“ Ginny sighs, pulling at one of her curls and then letting it spring loose. And again, and again. It’s pretty.

„Mmhm,“ mutters Mad Maddy in obvious disinterest. If she didn’t run her „Apothecary“ as she did, Ginny might have considered poisoning her. …Then again, it might not have been effective anyway. (Don’t ask, you’re better off not knowing.)

„My hair is so soft,“ Ginny repeats, lifting her head to look at Maddy, who is still sitting opposite her, which is neat.

„And?“ Maddy finally answers.

„And?!“ Ginny squeals in exasperation and sits up fully, which has the unfortunate effect of making the world spin in front of her eyes. „My hair is so amazingly soft, Maddy, and no one is playing with it!“

„Well, that just sounds like a you problem,“ Maddy says. To make the matters worse, she is playing with one of her broken dolls, running her nails through its tangled hair. Which is very mean of her, and Ginny tells her so. But Maddy only preens in response.

Yeah, Ginny was going for that, totally. After all, Maddy is her dealer.

So Ginny bites her lip and continues playing with her hair herself, which is extremely unfair and heartbreaking, really. She sighs audibly every few moments, hoping to get a more sympathetic reaction out of the other girl.

„For fucks sake, Gin!“ Maddy finally snaps, „Go annoy someone else! Harriet or Anthony! You’re being a horny bitch in my Apothecary, and you know the rules!“

„The rules are “No kissing in the Apothecary”!“ Protests Ginny.

„The rules are “No kissing or fucking in the Apothecary, and also no traitorous purple headed fae”, and they’re being updated!“ snarks Maddy back, „Besides, Junior and Trois said they’d be coming in the evening, and I don’t need you scaring off customers!“

It is dim already, but it is dim always. Anyone’s guess when „evening“ is. Or when the Gaston twins think it is.

Ginny makes a face: „And what are the rules being updated to?“

„No being a whiny horny bitch,“ concludes Maddy triumphantly, and raises her doll to the face level. Ginny makes a face at the doll too–

„Out!“ commands Maddy, pointing at the door with her free hand.

Ginny stands up abruptly, and fuck, the world whites out for a moment. She hisses through her teeth, and knows that Maddy doesn’t even look at her; her hand shots out against the wall, to steady her, and her nails leave incisions in it.

Neat.

„Fine,“ she says as she rakes her nails along the wall for greater effect, „I didn’t wanna stay here anyway.“

As she leaves, she almost runs into the Gaston twins by the door – they only just step away from her way, which is good, because otherwise she’d fall and she might not want to get up again.

She steps into frigid Isle air and behind her, Maddy yells at the twins: „Well what are you waiting for? One of you go with her! If something happens to her, Harriet will throw a temper tantrum and it’ll be my problem!“

Needless to say, Maddy does not wish to deal with angry Harriet Hook. Unfortunately, Ginny – if she says so herself – doesn’t need a bloody bodyguard.

She whirls around as fast as she dares and tells Trois so, with her dagger pointed vaguely in the direction of his neck. As if that would do any good – she aims the dagger to a significantly lower place. Trois pales a bit.

He doesn’t tell her to relax or calm down, which earns him a small insignificant plus.

Ginny narrows her eyes at him anyway.

A broken doll flies through the still open door and whacks Trois in the back of the head: he drops her voice to barely more than whisper: „I’ll go behind you. Respectful distance. You won’t even know I’m here.“

Silence. Her knife doesn’t move.

„Come on, Gin, we both know the next thing she’s throwing at me is gonna explode–“

Yes, and it would likely ruin both her clothes and her hair, which would be absolutely unforgivable – And she simply isn’t talking with Maddy anymore, thank you for asking. So without another word, Ginny turns back around and marches straight ahead; her head protests the sudden movement, but hey. That’s fine. She’s not smelling ozone yet, not really, and as long as she’s not fainting, she’s good to go.

She takes a moment of her precious time to curse her mother and her dubious rituals – Auradon and it’s fucking Barrier.

Trois stays in respectful distance, as he promised, but Ginny can hear him behind her all the same. She ignores him. She doesn’t bother hiding her dagger.

It doesn’t take her long to cross the Isle to Anthony’s saloon, not with that look in her eyes and Gaston’s son at her back. Just the last corner – she exhales loudly and waves Trois away. He can only now leave without Maddy yelling at him (His fault for being a horrible liar, really.)

However, Ginny finds she’s hard pressed to care.

Instead, she checks her reflection in the dark window: A cape of the colour of fine dark wine, and the lipstick to match, smudged just enough to drive Anthony crazy. A dagger in her hand – she should probably hide it now. (So the knife disappears, though not before she checks her reflection in it too.) (Her eyes are open wide.) She pulls at her hair and watches as her reflection’s curls spring back into place.

She is jealous of her reflection.

With a resolute shake of her head, (her hair bouncing all around), she stops looking at herself and walks into the saloon. „Anthony!“ she exclaims over the awful wind-chimes that Dizzy loves and that give her an instant headache.

To her eternal annoyance, no one comes.

„Anthony–“ the doors click shut behind her and she allows the slightest hint of whine to slip into her voice.

Finally, footsteps – though far too light and perky to be his. Ginny grimaces and pulls at her hair.

She doesn’t bother hiding the grimace as Dizzy Tremaine rounds the corner, only narrowing her eyes at the younger girl. Which effectively freezes her mid-greeting, which is good, since she’s always so annoyingly cheerful and the world is so rude and unjust.

Dizzy’s accessories are sparkling in the lacklustre light of the saloon and it’s giving Ginny headache, too. She closes her eyes for just a second, just to stop looking at little Dizzy’s honestly offensive jewellery.

„Holly evil–“ When Ginny opens her eyes again, little Dizzy is standing right next to her, her hand hovering over her elbow. „Come sit down,“ Dizzy says as she guides her to the worn out sofa.

„I wish to speak with Anthony–“ protests Ginny quite fruitlessly, as the little Tremaine has disappeared already. Finding little usefulness in going to look for her, Ginny sinks into the once–decadent pillows – It’s Tremaine’s saloon, isn’t it? Anthony will come to check sooner or later. She is tired.

Dizzy reappears, holding out a glass of clear liquid for her to take: Water. Probably. Possibly. Poison. Bleach. Ginny reaches for the glass and brings it to her lips, almost, almost – She tips the whole glass down, lets the liquid pour down and the glass clutter uselessly on the floor. It doesn’t break. She stares at Dizzy; Dizzy stares back, for barely a heartbeat. Then she sighs, bends down to pick up the glass, and says: „Alright. I’ll go get Anthony for you.“

As she bounces away, Ginny pulls at her curls. „You’d be such a dear for that,“ she manages to say as the little Tremaine bounces away, just the right level of saccharin in her voice.

If she’d care to listen, she might have heard the Tremaine cousins talking and giggling upstairs, Anthony disciplining them. His steps as he walks downstairs. No annoying chimes this time.

„Ginny?“ She looks up at him, and abruptly stands up. Her world goes white again, and she tastes metal for just a heartbeat, „Sunflower, what’s wrong?“ In another heartbeat, he’s hugging her tight, which is probably a good thing. For closely unspecified reasons. She clings to his shoulders, tightly enough for her nails to hurt him even through all the layers he is wearing, and breathes in through clenched teeth. Then again. And again. If she’d have to guess, she’d say that the world has returned to its miserable true colours by now, but, you see, checking would require her to lift her head from his shoulder. Which would be a shame.

She breathes in again and loosens her grip on him. „What’s wrong?“ he asks again, as if the answer wasn’t „Every-fucking-thing,“ or, alternatively, „Existence.“

Instead, she leans away a bit, his hands moving to her hips, and slowly answers: „I have such soft hair, Anthony–“

He smiles: „I know. I did your hair just this morning, remember?“ As if that was relevant just now.

She swats at his shoulder lightly – don’t interrupt me! He presses his lips together in an exasperated expression, holding it only long enough for her to notice. Which is, of course, why she pretends she didn’t see.

„As I was saying,“ she starts again, „I have such soft hair,“ („Thanks to me.“), „And no one is playing with it!“

„Oh?“ he flashes a half-smirk at her and runs his fingers along her scalp, „That better, then?“

„Much.“

Ginny would be content to stay like this for quite a long time, so she’s understandably quite annoyed when she realises Anthony doesn’t agree. Selfish traitor.

„Ginny, what did you do the whole day?“ he asks, as if it was any of his concern.

„Visited mother. Then Maddy,“ she answers anyway, because he is playing with her hair and because it is nice. She hides her face in his neck again.

He mutters something like „I’m gonna kill both of them,“ but his fingers are still in her hair, so it takes her a moment to react. „You leave Maddy alone–“

„Perfect,“ he says with a teasing smirk, „I’m gonna tell Harriet we’re free to take a go at your lovely mother.“

„No!“

„Why not, though?“

Well, for starters… Ginny presses closer to him and says: „If you’d both go track my mother down, I’d have no one to play with my hair. Again.“ She keeps the absolutely genuine betrayal and hurt and accusation clear in her voice.

He tugs at her hair: „And we can’t have that.“

„Exactly.“

Now he’s getting it.

Though, one must say, Harriet sure looks hot when on the warpath.

It’s quiet for a while, save for some giggling girls that are quickly glared away.

„You feeling better now, Sunflower?“ he asks finally, „I’ve got work to do, you know?“

Ginny leans away and summons tears to her eyes: „Ditch,“ she breathes out.

„I can’t–“

„Fuck your grandmother. Ditch,“ she looks up at him, leaning closer, and his grip in her hair tightens, „I want to see Harriet.“

He swallows heavily, eyes at her lips and the smudged lipstick, which is probably printed into his shirt too, now, and moves his hand to her cheek. „Okay,“ he says, „Let’s go find Harriet.“