#lookwhatbeewrote x xmichaelmyers

[lookwhatbeewrote]

solanum lycopersicum | millie the witch, olive the witch, jason voorhees & michael myers

The squeal from the garden startled Olive so much that she lost track of her spell, her uncrossing candle sputtering out unceremoniously. She got to her feet, wiping spittle, herbs and oil from her palms onto her old jeans and made her way out onto the porch. Millie and Jason were at the very end of the garden in the vegetable patch that the pink-haired witch had crafted and for a brief moment Olive wondered if the cabbage white butterflies had gnawed away the tender leafy greens that Millie had spent months cultivating.

‘What is it?’ Olive snapped, folding her arms across her chest when she realised that Millie’s face was splitting into a wide grin.

‘Solanum lycopersicum!’ Millie cried into her cupped hands.

Olive frowned at the Latin term. ‘I beg your pardon?’ Michael had joined her on the porch, watching in silence as Jason hefted Millie into his arms and carried her with reverence back up the garden towards the small cottage. Millie’s head was covered with a wide sunhat that dwarfed her small shoulders and kept them safe from the glaring summer sun. Jason placed her down at the edge of the porch, watching Michael warily as he allowed Millie to skip up the steps to show Olive the fruits of her labour.

‘Tomatoes!’

Olive’s brows raised quickly. She peered down at a cluster of half-a-dozen tiny red tomatoes in Millie’s dirty hands. ‘Is that what all the fuss is about?’

‘Of course it is! This is my first harvest. The soil here is so full of decay and bad blood that I wasn’t sure if these would grow but they have and they’re so beautiful!’

Millie’s enthusiasm was infectious and Olive couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. Michael had lost interest and wandered back inside to the cool shade. Jason petted Millie’s freckled shoulder and she turned to him, tipped up his mask and placed one of the gloriously red spheres into his mouth. His exposed teeth burst through the skin and the juices poured out of his mouth and down his chin. Millie giggled and wiped it clean before offering some to Olive.

‘Try one.’

Olive knew that it was more of an order than a request and yet she felt no pressure to pluck a tomato from her friend’s palm. She often wondered why Millie had such a fascination with plants and gardening in the mortal sense when she could easily cast spells on the earth around her home to grant it fertility. Perhaps it was the joy that she and not her inherently bewitched blood had caused the soil to bear fruit. Olive placed the tomato on her tongue and crunched it up, her teeth quickly popping the skin and flooding her mouth with the sweet yet tangy taste of the fresh fruit.

Millie bounced up across the porch, her jewellery jingling as she went in search of Michael. She would have some difficulty convincing him to try the tiny harvest but Olive knew that it was unlikely that something so trivial as Michael’s stubbornness would deter the gleeful witch from sharing the bounty of her months of toil.

[lookwhatbeewrote]

is it true you and xmichaelmyers are friends still?

Yes. We apologised to each other for the past few months. We had had a few minor disagreements that built up to yesterday and so though it might have seemed very sudden and dramatic, it was the culmination of a lack of communication and generally just the difficulty of living in different time zones while trying to resolve differences. Friendships are hard and we decided to work at it to make it better for us both. I don’t doubt that Kate will continue to annoy me in small ways but I will do the same to her and we’re alright with that.

[lookwhatbeewrote]

gravedirt | olive the witch x michael myers

(olive belongs to @xmichaelmyers)

Candles flickered, the wax dripping and flecking the floors with pale dots that quickly cooled into constellations in the dark.

It took a long time for the mud to come off. Olive wondered if it had stained his skin and if the smears of dark, gritty grime were permanently embedded in his flesh. She scrubbed him until he was red and sleek from the soap. The bathwater turned from a milky swirl to an ugly sludgy brown the longer Michael stewed in the copper tub. He sat in silence, his knees pulled up and his hands lightly gripping the edge of the tub at either side of him.

Olive sighed. Tendrils of steam rose, curling skyward to disappear in a thin veil of nothingness. She set down the cloth that she had been using to wipe away the mess of gravedirt and plucked a comb from the array of tools at her side.

‘Hold still,’ she said into the silence.

He did.

She kneeled up slightly, her knees aching. Olive began to gently work the comb through the knots in Michael’s damp hair. He didn’t move, even when she thought she had tugged too harshly against his scalp. She wondered if he could feel it at all. When people return from the hereafter, she knew, it took some time to feel human again. She wondered if he felt numb, if he felt only a slight buzzing in his fingers and toes as if his limbs had gone dead from sleeping on them. That’s what she had imagined it to be like. Michael stared straight ahead unwaveringly.

‘You’re safe here, you know. With me.’

He said nothing.

She was undeterred. She had not expected him to talk.

Suds decorated Michael’s skin, glossing his muscles. Bullet holes riddled his torso, puckered and pink and new. Olive couldn’t count on the fingers of both hands the things she had pulled from those. A lesser witch would have shuddered at the thought but not she. Olive worked out each of the knots in Michael’s hair one by one and once they were gone and the comb was gliding through his damp locks with ease, she set it down and wiped away what was left of the gravedirt.

She stood up and held out a towel. She grasped the corners, opening it for him. Michael understood the cue and rose from the murky waters, which sloshed at the brim of the freestanding copper tub. He turned to face her, pausing before he stepped out. Olive felt a smirk pull at her lips, her gaze once again raking with deliberate slowness over her nakedness. It followed the taper of his waist and the v-shape of the muscles in his lower abdomen as well as the trail of dark hair streaking down between his legs.

Olive draped the towel around him once he loomed above her. He smelled of lavender and buttermilk but also of the earth. She had not been able to scrub him of that cool scent and it seemed to be embedded in him; the scent of winter air following in his wake. It filled her lungs as she dried him. Then reaching up to push his hair behind his ears, she spoke to him again in the quiet of the night.

‘Come to bed.’