unyielding--black

[unyielding--black]

You know I ran into my ex-husband last week. He’s actually a good guy, but he was with his new fiance.

[unyielding--black]

name: bellatrix black prewett

species: witch

ilvermony house: wampus

cultural background: born and raised in america; cambodian father, french mother.

age: thirty-four

occupation: member of the prewett family crime ring; co-owner of the white wyvern tavern.

specialties: dueling, dark arts, violence, bartending, no-Maj weaponry, instigating shit.

current angst: annoyed that fabian came back to life as a demon and scared that he’ll out her to the rest of the family as the person who killed him in the first place, effectively robbing her of her place amongst the prewetts.

[unyielding--black]

send me a ⊕ for an aesthetic graphic for our muses - asmodeus prince of hell & shane “legs” madej. eat your heart out @ council.

[unyielding--black]

send me a ⊕ for an aesthetic graphic for our muses - memento mori

Remember...  You will die. 

[unyielding--black]

unholyfirc‌:

There was a distinct grimace of distaste that appeared upon his face as Fabian brushed a palm over the dusty wood the end of one of the pews before settling down upon it and kicking his feet up onto the back of the one in front. He glanced absently across the aisle towards the blaze of her cigarette before regarding the vaulted ceiling with a wrinkled nose. “Oh, I’m sure you’re terribly curious where I go and what I do and who I talk to and how much they know — you always were such a paranoid thing. Paranoid and jealous and messy. Forever wanting to know mine and my brother’s business as if it was any concern of yours.”

 He sniffed, recounting with stark clarity the hauntingly gruesome details of his death like a vulture picking over the carcass of something that used to be a person, remembering vividly the bubble of blood in his throat and more than anything the surprise. He’d been surprised, in spite of it all. Somehow that particular fact still grated upon him.

“There are far worse things in hell and on earth than your talents with a corkscrew,” he replied after a pronounced silence, the heel of his shoe thumping erratically against the pew before him as he considered the quandary of meeting quotas and council agendas and a brother who’d come back wrong even by the shoddiest of demonic standards. If only Hell had done the job properly and stripped away his familial loyalty with all the rest of his cleaner edges he might have left behind this particular worry. And yet. “You’d do well to remember that, Trixie. My business is my business. If you insist on following me every which way I go people might start to wonder why.”

She didn’t like the new Fabian. Granted, there hadn’t been much to admire about the original model, so to speak, but he’d been easier to pick at, an arrogant little scab who came apart with the prick of a finger. What sat across from her on the pews now was made of a much colder, crueler mettle that wouldn’t scuff simply because she gave it a few knocks. Hell seemed to have taken those once shallow spaces and hollowed them out into the finer, smoother edges of Fabian’s now impenetrable expression. It was an aggravating thought: to think that in the brutal taking of his life, she’d somehow been doing him a courtesy by sending him on a path of actual substance.

Well. At least he’d been fried, flayed, and everything else in between. It was enough of a comfort to give Bellatrix pause as she turned the heavy pages of her volume of rage, settling on a familiar monologue. She drew in a smoky breath. “You know, you can think me as big a stain on your life as you’d like but that won’t change the facts. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your brother and sister. Ten plus years seems an awfully long time to be lugging a charity case around out of pity. For one reason or another they thought this messy thing you see before you was worth just as much as you. Read into that whichever way you’d like.”

Her value among the Prewetts was a chip she’d long since carried on her shoulder, though five years worth of distance from Fabian’s goading and the sudden decrease in their numbers had seen her gain a newfound sense of security where her role in the family was concerned. Now that he was back Bellatrix had no plans of ceding her place. There were plenty of other corkscrews in the sea. “Please. Molly’s got her kids and her drugs, Gideon’s wires got crossed -- bang up job on Satan’s end, by the way, the useless twat -- and if you poked a hole in Gruffyd he’d leak out baby oil. No one’s watching what I do anymore than they ever did. But if you want me to cut to the chase, then by all means...” 

She turned in her seat to face him directly, a trail of smoke billowing around her hard expression. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

[unyielding--black]

send me a ⊕ for an aesthetic graphic for our muses - bella & molly

Watch me.  I will go to my own Sun. And if I’m burned by its fire, I will fly on scorched wings

- segovia amil

[unyielding--black]

entrepreneur-prewett‌:

She had to hold back a laugh at Bill’s moodiness toward his aunt as he practically stomped up toward the loft above the Wyvern, his heavy step sending thumps through the tavern and making a few customers look up curiously. Molly waved them off and gave Bellatrix a pointed look as she suggested ridding the family of Bill; she was an awful mother, really, if she had to fight a smirk from showing because of the idea. Three children were a handful, especially as Percy grew older and more curious, but Arthur had come from a big family and Molly was fond of kids for the most part. It wasn’t like she wasn’t asking for it, really.

“No matter how much he might remind you of Fabian, I’m not gonna off one of my spawn because he annoys you,” she lightly scolded, pouring Bellatrix a drink and passing it over without a thought before making her own. Maybe it wasn’t the most professional thing in the world to drink the merchandise while on the clock, but she didn’t really give a shit. “They’d be with their father like Percy is if he hadn’t been called into work. I’m surprised they didn’t make him drop Percy off here before he went in.”

Another wave of customers entered the tavern and Molly bit back a groan, shooting Bellatrix a pleading look. “I know you were out working already, but if you could give me a hand until these drunkards finally leave you’ll be my favorite sister. Please?”

“Now, who said anything about offing him? There’s plenty of other nuisances for us to be busying ourselves with. No need to be setting our sights so close to home just yet,” Bellatrix brought the wine up to her lips, eyes glittering, two black pools basking in the depths of some private joke. “Best you keep those subconscious desires of yours in check, Molls. Merlin knows what else you’ve got locked up in there.”

There was something to the term sister when it came from Molly. Out of Gideon’s mouth it would often sound so matter-of-factly, like a point that had to be made just for the sake of getting on with things. Yes, this is my sister, yes, she’s adopted, but now whose kneecaps are we taking a tire iron to? With Fabian the word was the serrated edge of a blade he’d designed to plunge into her back whenever she found herself standing just a little too tall for his liking. But Molly had a way of teasing out a genuineness from the pair of syllables like no other, and sometimes it was even enough to make her forget that she’d been someone else’s sister once; someone else’s daughter and cousin; someone else’s family.

Bellatrix polished off the rest of her drink, draining any lingering traces of sentimentality down with it. “Well, since you said please... what is it you need me to do?”

[unyielding--black]

Send me a ⊕ for an aesthetic graphic for our muses.

Friendships & Romantic ships both acceptable !! If you’d like it to be as if our muses were in a relationship please add “love” after the symbol.

[unyielding--black]

ben, it’s

my UnderStanding

that there is a

WAR

going on right now— am i.. am i  right  in this??

[unyielding--black]

unholyfirc‌:

Watching the priest abandon his post like he could smell the brimstone wafting off of him was an exercise in patience that Fabian had never really had to spare, however much his soul had been reborn in the lifetimes he’d lived out down below. It was a novelty, he supposed, to feel all those age-old resentments and pettiness well up inside the person he’d used to be. Almost like being human again. Still. 

“Demonic business,” he replied with a wrinkle of his nose as he continued to approach the altar of lit votives, rolling his palm through the flickering flames like if he turned the skin back to him it might be puckered and charred. Bellatrix’s obsessive paranoia regarding his comings and goings was something he’d come to bank upon lately — the merry chases he’d led her upon through the French Quarter a fair testament to exactly how much pettiness had made it through the fire to return with him. “That priest belongs to us.”

He sniffed, prodding a finger directly into a flame and watching it flicker around it. The burn, however much he wished for it, never came. “Or he will, soon enough. I see you’re following me again, sister. Here for confession?”

Even that mocking title seemed to sharpen on the knife’s edge of his tongue. A glance over his shoulder seeming designed to instigate, the irresistible urge to prod and poke at insecurities and hair-triggers one he couldn’t seem to keep in check. He had little reason to want to, particularly when it came to her. “Or are you looking for a good exorcism rite, just in case I decide I need to avail myself of some sins.”

It said something about their dueling personalities that Fabian could be speaking about his demonic pursuits in that strange, new colorless tone of his all whilst calling her sister in the same breath, and yet only one of the two remarks could prompt her lip to curl in disgust. She’d never understand how someone who bore all the same features as Gideon could inspire such profound depths of loathing within her. From the unruliest of dark curls to every last freckle dotting their noses, they were the spitting image of one another, and still, Bellatrix couldn’t reconcile their differences. Where she drew strength and a sense of stubborn fondness in Gideon’s presence, she consistently came up with nothing short of a number of piling resentments where Fabian was concerned, as though she were gathering bitterness from an infinite well of rage that was eager to spill over in chaotic fashion. 

Oh, but it did spill over. It still is.

Bellatrix released a small dribble of smoke from her mouth, expression souring. “There’s not enough holy water in the world to wash my hands clean, brother, I can promise you that. I’m just curious to know what you get up to in the odd hours of the night. You don’t usually bury your dead one day and have them slinking around for souls the next. I like knowing what I’m up against.”

Their eyes briefly met as he turned to glance her way and she cocked her head at the veiled dig. “Is that a threat?” Something like laughter rumbled in the back of her throat as she carelessly flicked ash off her cigarette and took another lazy drag, “... I’d have thought the humbling experience of choking on your own blood would’ve taught you a lesson or two on how to curb your tongue. Suppose it’s true what they say, then. You can lead a horse to water -- or in this case an ass -- but you can’t make the damned thing drink.” 

[unyielding--black]

insp.

[unyielding--black]

♫ the blewetts (individually, altogether, whatever floats your boat)

rocky — the white buffalo ( fabian )

Now he’s got two feet in the graveHe dug himself too deep a holeNo dragons left to slayDevil squeezed out all the hopeOnly one God to obeyReaches down and takes a holdNow he can’t get away

albatross - foals  ( @unyielding–black )

You got an albatross around your neckAround your neckYou got a pile of broken wishbones under your bedAnd you got a hungry green eyed monster that you keep fedAnd it keeps on coming over it wants you dead

the funeral — band of horses ( all )

I’m coming up only to hold you underI’m coming up only to show you wrongAnd to know you is hard, we wonderTo know you, all wrong we were

beggin’ for thread — banks ( @entrepreneur-prewett )

Stooped down and out, you got me beggin’ for threadTo sew this hole up that you ripped in my headStupidly think you had it under controlStrapped down to something that you don’t understandDon’t know what you were getting yourself intoYou should have known, secretly I think you knew

 souls a’fire — matt corby ( gideon )

Oh he got poison in his lungsAnd it will become undoneSome sort of freak that feels no painWalk through the fire like it feels like rain

the great escape — woodkid ( gideon & fabian )

Now we’re finally standing up to the skyLook at me, boy, so what is fate to sayHow things are gonna turn out now?Can’t you see that we’re dead until we wake up

i of the storm — of monsters and men ( @unyielding–black & @entrepreneur-prewett )

If I could face themIf I could make amends with all my shadowsI’d bow my head and welcome themBut I feel it burningLike when the winter windStops my breathingAre you really gonna love me when I’m gone?I fear you won’tI fear you don’t

diggin’ up the heart — brandon flowers ( gideon & @entrepreneur-prewett )

His little sister hugs the tin manTony, she’s grownAnd she’s pretty, in her little black dressHe’s digging up the heartTo know the price he paid

loyal like sid and nancy — foster the people ( gideon & @unyielding–black )

Yeah, you’re walking in stilettos, but your nose is bleeding outI’ve been running from the devil, but the devil’s on my backI’m decreasing, took a leave of absence from the warIf the wall is coming down, then we gotta press the pedalGot my hands up in the air, I’m saying I can’t breathe

family — noah gunderson ( fabian & @entrepreneur-prewett )

And someone lies bleedingSomeone got violent and did not think twiceAnd I watched you my brotherMaking a fool of the moon tonight

the comeback kid — lindi ortega ( fabian & @unyielding–black​ )

When you see my face you’ll think you’re staring at a ghostWell you better be scared if you see that I’m getting close‘Cause I’m comin’ back around and there’s justice to be servedAnd baby what you get is exactly what you deserve  

judgement day — stealth ( all )

Of all the love I have takenAll the hearts I’ve turned to hateHearts are easily broken when you’ve been made in the shadeCrossed every line, broken every boundaryAnd now it’s retribution time 'cause the church that I went toIt ain’t that holy

[unyielding--black]

Fabian! (for either of the name things)

What you/they like best about them

He has all the impulse control of a toddler, so it’s easy to get the better of him. One time I was in the kitchen and had just finished slathering the floor with a gallon of Sleekeazy’s, as one does. I called Gideon over, saying there were fresh caramel puffs on the table from Honeydukes and threw in a threat for good measure -- “lay a finger on them Fabian and you’ll be swallowing your toes for dessert” -- you know, the usual. Naturally, who should come running into the room not ten seconds later? He slipped on all the grease and crashed into the oven, even managed to nick his head on the kitchen counter and land himself with a concussion. It’s the little things. 

What you/they hate most about them

... He has all the impulse control of a toddler. And, listen, I could give a rat’s ass what Fabian thinks of me but sometimes -- well, he has this -- knack -- for knowing all the right buttons to push. And even when I know he’s not worth my time, that he’s only spewing shit out of his mouth to see if something’ll stick, I can’t... I can’t always let it go. He gets under my skin like no else can and, worse, he knows it. 

What you/they’d like to say to them

If you don’t think lightning can strike twice, then you’ve been chasing up the wrong storms. Watch your step.

A strange fact you/they know about them

I know exactly how many times he can stand having a corkscrew plunged into the back of his head before he stops struggling; I know what the color of his blood looks like when it’s mixed in with spilled wine; I know what his last words were and how long it took for his chest to stop heaving and his eyes to go glassy. I know he died surprised, in spite of everything.

I was probably closer to him in death than I ever was to him when he was alive. Shame it didn’t stick.

Your/their best memory of them

Him lying in his open casket at the funeral reception. 

[unyielding--black]

unholyfirc‌:

There was nothing quite so satisfying as the underlying itch that crawled beneath his brand-new, bewildering skin when faced with the instruments of the Church. He hadn’t understood it at first; the urge to seek that familiar unholy burn on newly formed flesh, the one that felt like a distant pang of a long-forgotten injury. But the urge had returned, again and again and so he had followed it, through the crowds and into the dark recesses of the city’s churches amidst the revelry that filled the city streets until he felt those gentle reminders worm their way beneath his skin like a lover’s caress.

Lately he thought that he might even miss Hell.

It was a curious thought.

Still, as he approached the altar and it’s sea of flickering votive candles, his hands twitched, an elaborately carved cross sat amidst them. A shuffle of feet upon the paved floors sounded as he continued towards the altar before a voice: “Can I help you, son?”

Fabian’s head turned and whatever the Priest saw he mustn’t have liked, if the way he recoiled was any indication. He paused, smile breaking across his face beneath the vivid red of his eyes as they faded back to a less remarkable blue. “I’m sorry if I startled you, Father — I found myself in need of a little guidance tonight.”

His eyes caught upon another shadow looming over the priest’s shoulder at the back of the aisle, one that had trailed him in off the streets and his eyes narrowed as he mouthed an irritable, “Fuck off,” their way like it might dissuade them from encroaching on his game for the night.

It was demotivating to think her life had come to this. Trekking through No-Maj territory at the height of the witching hour, boots tracking in mud past the church’s threshold from every charming little detour Fabian had sprung on her in hopes of shaking off his pursuer. When she’d realized St. Augustine’s was the end goal, Bellatrix had very nearly put a stop to their elaborate game of cat-and-mouse just for the sake of being able to hex him from behind for wasting her time. 

She planted herself at the edge of one of the pews with a huff, dark eyes scouring the church in loaded contempt. For all their talk of saints and holy sacraments, the place was nothing more than four walls and a roof she could easily splinter to pieces with a lazy flick of her wand. What on earth her adopted nuisance thought he would find here was beyond her, though considering recent developments in the newfound demonic sector of their household, Bellatrix suspected he was in the market for something prayers couldn’t buy him. 

Her head angled in Fabian’s direction just in time to catch him mouth an eloquent ‘fuck off’ her way. She ignored him and settled back in her seat before treating herself to a healthy serving of blasphemy. “Don’t bother with this one, Father. He’s from the Satanic Temple off 43rd. The only guidance he’s in search of is the way towards your coffers. We’re funding a trip to go burn down the Vatican next month. Care to donate?”

The speed with which the priest turned on his heels and ran for the back of the church almost made this whole venture into hallowed ground seem worth it. Almost. Shaking her head, Bellatrix swiped a cigarette from her cloak and lit it with a measured spark of wandless magic. She took in a slow inhale of smoke, noting that she and Fabian were alone now, save for the marbled saints presiding over them in judgement. “Didn’t peg you for the religious sort. Turning over a new leaf, then?”

[unyielding--black]

♫ Gid! as well!

(bella/gideon)

“Black Eyes” by Radical Face

You’ve burned me, yeah you’ve burned me, yeah you’ve burned me now one too many timesMy thoughts are the cold kind, I got storm clouds that are brewing behind my eyesAnd my heart will be blacker than your eyes when I’m through with you

“Rootless Tree” by Damien Rice

So fuck you, fuck you, fuck youAnd all we’ve been throughI said leave it, leave it, leave itIt’s nothing to you

“Esmeralda” by Ben Howard

Lonely, oh no not me I have a grave to dig, fast moving feetYou gave me light where it once was goneI made a bed, we don’t belong

“O’Sister” by City and Color

Oh sisterWhat’s wrong with your mind?You used to be so strong and stableMy sisterWhat made you fall from grace?I’m sorry that I was not there to catch you

“Blue Light” - Bloc Party

I still feel you and the taste of cigarettesWhat could I ever run toJust tell me it’s tearing you apartJust tell me you cannot sleep

[unyielding--black]

Send “✆” for a MORNING text. Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. Send “☎” for a RUSHED text. Send “⁇” for a DRUNK text. Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text. Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text. Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text. Send “#” for a RANDOM text. Send “@” for a SCARED text. Send “&” for a LOVING text. Send “%” for a CURIOUS text. Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text. Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text. Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text.

[unyielding--black]

Send me a character and me/my muse will answer:

What you/they like best about them

What you/they hate most about them

What you/they’d like to say to them

A strange fact you/they know about them

Your/their best memory of them