queen;

emma vanity. death eaters. gold cage, hostage to my feelings.

[e-mmavanity-blog1]

date: after kidnapping location: emma’s apartment status: closed to @n-arcissablack

​Emma had been awake for nearly an hour before she felt Narcissa begin to stir beside her. A small smile came to her lips, and she moved so she could press a few kisses into the back of her lover’s shoulder. “Good morning, beautiful,” she whispered in Narcissa’s ear, letting an arm drape over the woman’s middle to pull her closer. Their stolen moments together were what kept her going, keeping her from crumbling completely under the pressure.

What had awoken her so early? Certainly not the sunlight that was just now starting to peek in through her curtains, falling on the woman beside her and giving her an almost angelic glow. No, she couldn’t help but have her mind full of thoughts of the two men in Narcissa’s basement. After visiting Peter, she wondered how much longer the men had. Perhaps talking about would alleviate some of the weight, and Narcissa had always been willing to listen to her.  “I visited Peter earlier this week,” she finally murmured, figuring that Narcissa was the only one who would understand what that meant for Emma. “Do you know what the...the plan is for him?” she asked hesitantly, wondering if she really wanted details. Bella, of course, had a hand in the kidnapping and she didn’t doubt she had a hand in the rest.

[e-mmavanity-blog1]

evelynrosmerta‌:

To see Emma Vanity enter the Boulevardier was a surprise. Evelyn had never seen the woman around in the bar and it only made her curious to why she came over. She looked on from a distance as the young woman ordered a drink but then took place at one of the tables in the back. She let the bartender behind the bar know that she would not have to bring it over and that she would do it herself. It was never bad to get talking with new people. It was in the end how she often managed to get them to stay or return for another time.

Evelyn took the drink and brought it over to the table in the back where Emma was seated. She pulled back a seat and sat down. She raised her eyebrows for a moment and smiled a second later. She placed the drink in front of Emma and leaned back in the seat. “Since it is my own bar, I imagined that an invitation was that necessary. And I brought your drink. I can take it with my again if you would like.”

As the woman spoke, Emma turned to finally glance at her new companion. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to insult the owner of the bar, so her lips curled into a small smile. A hand grasped the drink, pulling it closer as she tried to decide exactly how to proceed. “My apologies. Evelyn, was it? I’m Emma,” she said, trying to recall all she knew about the woman. 

After taking a sip of the drink, she glanced back over to Evelyn. She found it a little odd that the owner was running drinks to customers, though perhaps it wasn’t every day that the bar was graced by a celebrity. “The place is wonderful, Evelyn, really,” she said with a small smile, wondering if the woman wanted anything out of Emma or if she was really just this friendly with patrons.

[e-mmavanity-blog1]

strcetrat‌:

“not gonna lie to you, ems,” peter started to reply, smiling at his own use of a pet name he knew she’d hate, coming from him, before falling into a fit of coughing that was followed by a short bout of hacking, all punctuated off by him needing to spit up blood to the floor. it was a disgusting practice, and one that he normally wouldn’t engage in in private property, but there already was a small pool of blood around him, it hardly made any difference if one speck more would be added to it. after all, most of it was his: peter had taken to being more vocal and more aggressive than he would have in such a hopeless situation, all in the hopes of drawing the violence away from remus. “was kinda hoping i wouldn’t if this is still what i was gonna come back to… and now you’re here too, what a treat.”

his eyes darted to the plate and glass she placed next to him, and in that short moment where emma had to bend down to pass it over, peter took the opportunity to see for himself the truth behind her visit: surprising even himself with the speed, his arm darted out, ignoring the pain that it made run though his torso, just so he could clamp a hand on her wrist and hold her in place, enough so he could look into her eyes. that same steely coldness, making recognition but refusing to acknowledge it all the same. there was no sympathy there, only pity and disgust, making peter glad that when he released her, there was a red imprint of his hand on her arm.

good. she made her bed with demons, now she had a mark to prove it, to show that she had seen what they were doing, was aware of who suffered, and had done nothing against it.

“they’re gonna kill us eventually, i don’t think it really matters to them if we get a proper meal.” despite the gnawing hunger in him, peter held back from touching what she offered. at this point, after having found out rabastan was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and that amycus was more dangerous than he had previously thought, he couldn’t put it past emma to try and poison him. it would be a nice escape from the pain, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of having been the one to finish him off, and he couldn’t die yet without having ensured remus would be saved. he pulled himself up into a sitting position against a wall, not even knowing then that he was close to one, a hand holding on to his aching stomach. “what d’you care? the fuck d’you want, emma? cause if it’s applause you’re looking for, i’m kinda shit all out.”

Emma couldn’t help but wince as a nickname spilled from his lips. There wasn’t anything she could do for him, she kept telling herself, even though she knew that wasn’t true. She wasn’t putting her place in the group, her normal life on the line for his pathetic one. The Death Eaters were capable of terrible things, and perhaps it was fitting she was a part of them. Watching as he coughed up blood, she had to look away. There was no telling the injuries he had already received, and she knew that their final plan for him and his friend was death. They both knew that. 

When his fingers clasped around her arm, Emma jolted back. She hadn’t come down to hurt him, but anger coursed through her veins. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed, pulling her arm to her chest. There was a part of her that knew she deserved far worse than a few bruises on her arms, but she wasn’t about to admit that to the man. Hadn’t she warned him? The Marauders were foolish, at least in her eyes, and Peter a fool just the same. Perhaps he didn’t exactly deserve this kind of treatment, but it came with the game he was playing.

There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that their plan was to kill the men once they were done with the interrogation, but to hear Peter say it out loud made her let out a small huff. “It’s not poisoned, or whatever you think I’d do to you. Or you can save it for your friend over there, be my guest,” she said, a laugh spilling out from her lips. This wasn’t a funny situation, but she found it to be so ridiculous. “I wanted to know if it was you,” she said, her voice coming out softer now. She didn’t want to show him any weaknesses, however, so she continued with more biting words. “I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to get caught, honestly. Do you think your friends are coming to save you? Do you think they even care that you’re gone?”

[e-mmavanity-blog1]

strcetrat‌:

date: 22nd june?, 1925 location: black estate basement party closed to @e-mmavanity​ 

trigger warnings for torture, violence, blood, gore, suicidal thoughts

it truly was one thing to have lived the entirety of his life always with the looming, invisible fear of death — from hunger, from crime, from disease, from poverty — and to have it be so tangibly close that it practically clung to his skin now as much as his shirt did… if it could even still be called that, unsalvageable amidst the caked and dried up blood, sweat, tears, and spit all intermingled on its surface. sleep hardly came to him now and when it did, it was merely brought about by beating after beating until the darkness along the periphery of his eyesight closed in and shut down his body, gasping at straws for rest, for a chance to breathe and function before once more going through the same motions, being asked the same questions:

where do you get your goods? who helps you, who works for you? who do you supply?

on and on and on, cut only by threats that peter found himself wishing they’d just follow through on because if they didn’t, he might as well take matters into his own hands just so he could be free of this. there was a sharp kick to the leg of his seat followed by another one to his knee when that failed to wake him finally made him stir, looking around groggily through stinging eyes for the culprit. with the black surrounding him, it was hard to tell, he didn’t even know if he was being tortured by the same one person or the whole gang of death eaters, who knew with them…

but that scent. he didn’t know if it was because of their last encounter at the boulevardier or if it was something that had been stashed to the back of his memory after their fallout, but peter was sure he recognized her by the smell of her alone, that heady mixture of perfume and what he could only assume was arrogance and anger made manifest. or maybe he was just imagining her there, because who else would show up to make him sink even further when he was already at his lowest point?

“had a feeling you’d show up down here eventually,” he greeted emma with a smile, or as much of one as he could muster what with the pain radiating on his cheek whenever he moved it. “come to take a crack at me too?”

Emma had kept enough of an eye on Peter to know what he had gotten up to; after all, it was hard to avoid the gangs when they seemed to run New York. Often, she tried to avoid the uglier sides of the Death Eaters, and since Orion had passed, she felt as if she was only part of the group for Narcissa’s sake. None of this kept her from hearing the whispers about the horrors happening in the Black’s basement. She wasn’t foolish; she knew exactly how the group got most of their information. It was a nasty way of making a living, and she was ever so thankful she could rely on easier jobs. 

However, when she heard whispers of a Peter that was being kept, being tortured for information, she couldn’t help but be curious. She normally wouldn’t dream of stepping foot in the basement, especially when God knows what was happening below ground, but she had to see for herself. The man curled up on the ground, knocked out cold, perhaps should have tugged at her heartstrings. She could see the cuts and bruises marring his body, the labored breathing even in his sleep. 

A thought echoed in her mind: she could leave right now. There was nothing saying she had to speak to Peter ever again. She refused to have blood on her hands, and the Death Eaters had far more influential ways of getting information out of their two prisoners. She was sure, after a time, they both would become just two more bodies in the river. But she had come with a plate of food in one hand, a glass of water in the other, and she figured she should at least say something to the man. “Wasn’t sure you were going to wake up,” she said, her eyes taking in the pathetic sight in front of her. “I wasn’t sure if they were feeding you,” she continued, her voice wavering as she set the plate beside the man. “I didn’t know you already had company,” she said, her eyes falling on the other figure who seemed to be out cold. 

[e-mmavanity-blog1]

☔✿☕

☔: my muses reaction to opening their front door and seeing yours drenched in rain

As soon as the storm kicked up, Emma had been fretting about Narcissa’s arrival. It was an easy walk in most circumstances, though tonight the nightfall had brought with it a nasty storm. She heard a knock on the door and rushed over, finding her lover absolutely drenched. “Oh, Narcissa,” she said, ushering the woman in with a sense of urgency. “Let’s get you out of those clothes, hm?” she said, taking her hand and pulling her towards the bedroom.

✿: my muse’s reaction to leaving a cut on your muse’s body

Emma honestly hadn’t noticed her grip had become so tight, tucked away in the closet as the maid came around to clean Narcissa’s room. How they both had forgotten today was cleaning day was beyond Emma, but once they stepped back into the room, she saw the blood on the woman’s hands, cuts from where her nails dug far too deep into skin. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, sure the maid was still somewhere close. “We should get that wrapped up, shouldn’t we?” she asked, gently pulling the woman’s hand up to her lips to press a gentle kiss into the back of it. “I’m sorry,” she murmured again, hating the very idea that she had caused even a little pain for the woman. 

☕: my muse comforting yours after the death of a loved one

Perhaps it was suspicious, for Emma to show up at the Black household so soon after Andromeda’s death. When she received the call from Narcissa, however, she couldn’t imagine leaving the woman alone for much longer. She didn’t know how long she’d been there, curled up in Narcissa’s bed with the woman’s head resting on her own chest. She’d stay there for days if her presence helped the woman even a small amount. A hand gently ran up and down her lover’s back, though she was truly at a loss for words. She knew nothing she could say would make it hurt any less, so she hoped being a shoulder to cry on was something. The loss hadn’t sunk in yet, not for Emma. She knew they were involved in something dangerous, something larger than just themselves. She just never thought sweet, sweet Andi would be taken from them so soon. 

[e-mmavanity-blog1]

n-arcissablack‌:

Compliments were usually worth so little to Narcissa. They came easily, fawning men and women who wanted a taste of the Black family wealth, or desired a taste of the youngest daughter, and so she grew to dismiss them, considering flattery merely a tool of acquisition, rather than a genuine expression of emotion. But somehow, with Emma, it was different, the slightest praise bringing a flush to her cheeks, a smile to her face, and this time, it was no different. “Yes, let’s.” She tiptoed up the stairs, dark eyes shining with enthusiasm, the need for secrecy bringing a thrill to this already delightful moment.

“Darling, I’m named after them. I adore them.” She glanced up at the other woman, a smile easy on her lips with Emma’s presence. “And, of course, I adore you.” She curled a strand of Emma’s hair around her fingers, gazing up at her, in a way that Narcissa was certain made her look like an absolutely love-stuck fool. She didn’t care. Perhaps she was a fool, to care for Emma, to trust her so, but – she couldn’t imagine anything else, anything that would feel quite so right as to be in her arms. “I’m so glad you’re here – I’ve been fretting. And what a wonderful distraction you are.” She kissed Emma’s collarbone, pink lips to soft skin, inhaling the scent of her perfume, at once familiar and exciting.

Emma still wasn’t entirely sure how she had gotten so lucky, how she had come to woo the woman standing in front of her. Their relationship had begun as many of hers did; with silent judgement and sparring words. However, if she had to thank the Death Eaters for anything, it would be that the group had brought her closer to the best thing that had ever happened to her. Setting the flowers on the vanity they stood beside, Emma let both of her arms wrap more securely around the woman. 

It had been a long week, but even just these few stolen moments with Narcissa were already allowing her to relax. She was unable to keep herself from smiling brightly at the woman’s adoring words, and worried for only a moment that she looked foolish. “What are you worrying about, darling? Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her voice filling with worry. There wasn’t much she had the power to do; her sisters were far more influential in the group, but she could offer a listening ear. “Unless you just want a distraction,” she whispered in the woman’s ear, before peppering a few kisses down the woman’s neck. 

[e-mmavanity-blog1]

strcetrat‌:

“did i say i think i’m better than you? you’re the one who came in here with judgement dripping from every inch of your body, calling people lowlifes and riff raff, and, what? you  expected them, you expected me to just sit here and take it? fuck you, emma.” and though the curse was intentionally said, there wasn’t any real weight in it, his chest wasn’t rested against his words. they were said more for the sake of other people who found themselves in similarly dire circumstances like  he did – the orphans, the street beggars, the runaways, those who had  to throw together the bare bones of a life from what they could cobble together from scraps – who did not deserve such condescension. it was ridiculous to think, to even have to be so protective, when emma should just be one of those people who were sympathetic, emphatic even, because she once stood and lived in the same shoes. maybe there really was no hope for their friendship anymore. “and fuck you for thinking that my life isn’t worth just as much as yours, just because you’re some fancy actress now and everyone knows you. i’ve done enough, i don’t have shit to prove to you, and i sure as shit don’t owe you anything more than my being here right now, alive and kicking. worry about your own friends, cause i know mine are tried and true.”

did he have a problem with lucius? no, although he certainly kept a wide berth of the man, because something about his slick and suave nature reminded  peter of all those rich men he’d seen around the streets of new york, each one of them worse than the last, shady in all regards, and arrogant to boost. he wouldn’t have a problem with wealthy people if they didn’t make their personalities revolve around the fact, and didn’t brag about their unearned wealth to the rest of the world. peter knew that no matter how good of an actress she was, that ultimately emma’s engagement was a matter of convenience, a quid pro quo: her glitz and glamour for his money and security. it would be sad if it wasn’t so on brand to the type of person emma now was.

“i’m gonna be real honest with you here, emma… i don’t care a dime about your engagement, and i sure as shit am jealous of absolutely nothing about you, that’s the god honest truth,” he held one hand to his chest, while the other he raised like he was making a solemn pledge, face reflecting his seriousness. “and since i said god honest truth… i am proud of you for making something of yourself, really and truly. when i first saw you up there on the screen, believe you me, nobody was more proud of you… or at least i was, right up at that point where your spit narrowly missed me outside the premiere of your film, by like thiiis much,” he made a gesture with his fingers, holding his thumb and  his pointer about an inch away from each other, a sardonic smile on his lips. it was a night he’d worked hard to bury in his memoy but also one that refused to be forgotten, replaying in his head with each time that their paths crossed, which thankfully was very rare, because it did wreak havoc on his self esteem and his sense of self worth.

“and at first i thought… did she mistake me for someone else? did i do something wrong? god, did i lose sleep thinking i did something wrong… then i realized i was just dumb for not seeing it for so long. you never even invited me, did you? to the premiere, to your sets, anywhere, never told me what new films you were working on even though you said you’d keep in touch, never introduced me to anyone. took me a while to get there, but i got there, and boy, did that sting. then it took me another long while to accept that it was true, to realize that it wasn’t me and my life that was the problem, cause you sure didn’t have a problem with it when you were still on the streets with me and i was doing everything i could to keep us safe. i’m never gonna be jealous of anything you made for yourself, not when i know that even just for a while, even though you deny it all you want, i had a hand in getting you there. you know what i work for, i work for the people i love, you used to be one of those people. i’d rather have that and what little else i got now than all the something you have now.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one who sat down and started insulting me,” Emma said, her eyes falling down to the table they shared. She wondered if this would be the end of their interactions; the man had only made the mistake of showing up to one premiere, and she surely wasn’t going to return to the Boulevardier anytime soon. With Peter’s cold remarks and Amycus’ interrogation, she had her fill of the regulars who seemed to frequent this bar, and she wasn’t sure why she thought it a good idea to visit in the first place. “Your friends? You mean your silly little bootlegging group that’s never going to amount to anything?” she said, figuring if he was going to fit in so many jabs against her character and her lack of real friends, there was no point in sitting and taking every insult. 

“I’m not sure what you thought would happen when you showed up. No one in their right mind would have let you into the premiere,” she said, choosing to ignore the fact that he kept saying he didn’t care about her, not anymore. If he didn’t care, why was he so insistent on sitting here and insulting everything about her? “You don’t belong in my world, Peter. It’s a sad truth, but you’ll never get there if you keep spending time with the delinquents you call your friends.” Perhaps some of what he said had a sliver of truth: there were fewer people now that she could trust, though she didn’t see why that was a terrible thing. It was a dangerous world, New York, and she had the people on her side that she needed. If that didn’t include Peter anymore, then so be it. 

“I suppose you can continue to keep telling yourself that, hm? That you’re not jealous of any of it? We came from the same place, Peter, and if you worked a little harder, maybe you’d be in a better place too,” she said, her lips curved upwards in her signature sickly sweet smile. “If you think that tearing me down with useless words is going to do anything, you’re sorely mistaken. I feel sorry for you, Peter, I really do,” she hissed, knowing their little interaction was sure to come to an end relatively quickly. Hadn’t he said enough?

[e-mmavanity-blog1]

date: june 1925 location: vin and sera’s home availability: closed to @s-crabbe

There was, of course, a period of mourning afforded for the loss of a child. Emma, though having no desire for a family currently, could understand that the loss could weigh heavily on her friend for weeks. However, it seemed as if she hadn’t seen Seraphina in quite some time, and there was no telling when she’d decide to show her face once more. Perhaps it was time for Emma to get involved. 

It didn’t take her long to show up on the woman’s doorstep, with no announcement of her plans. She figured if she sent word before, the woman would be less likely to come along. Besides, shouldn’t it be a delight to see her friend? “Ah, there you are. Get cleaned up, we’re leaving soon,” she said as the door opened to reveal the woman. 

[e-mmavanity-blog1]

strcetrat‌:

it was the way that she spoke, more than what meaning and intent her words actually carried, that incensed peter further into a fury, although it truly did take as little as emma’s presence to set a fire behind his eyes. though he no longer languished along the streets of new york, even what he had achieved now were still merely small steps away from where he had been, and people saw that and looked at him in the same light… just like emma did now, with her cold, dead eyes, and fingers that seemed to curl at the very possibility of their skin touching.

“condescension’s pretty fucking ridiculous coming from you,” he said with a laugh, a hollow sound and one that he would have let echo around the room were it not full, though at the moment, all peter really could see was the two of them, in their little bubble threatening to burst. “what? you don’t remember when people used to look at you the same way? like you were nothing but the dirt under their nails, gum stuck to their shoe? you got money and your fancy fiance,” peter said the last word with a laden tone, thick with the message of ‘i don’t believe that bullshit arrangement for one second’: first because he refused to believe anyone would actually want to be tied to emma, second because everything else about emma and her life was fake, why should her engagement be any different? “and suddenly you’re the best possible version of yourself? my friends know who i am, i don’t have to hide behind fame and money and a fake background to get them to like me. and if you weren’t so sure you’d fall from your pretty pedestal once the truth about where you came from comes out, why are you so worried about me telling anyone then?”

this is who i am.

with those five words, peter felt as though the door truly had closed on any chance of reconciliation for the two of them. they were kids then, untethered by the constraints and demands of the real world: it was more than likely that the emma that he knew then, the one that he got along with, even called his best, closest, and only friend, could only exist in that space and time. the one seated before him now, this could be who she was meant to be, who she truly was, and their worlds, their personalities, their expectations were too incompatible. “well, that’s a shame. at least you do look like you’re having fun with all your money and clothes and all the friends in the world to spend your time with,” he looked around at the empty seats around then, eyebrows raised in obvious sarcasm. “enjoy watching mary sing, great gal, absolutely the sweetest and the best.”

As infuriating as his words were, Emma didn’t want to let him under her skin. There was a certain fury behind his words, a fury she didn’t think she’d ever seen before. Of course, she remembered plenty from their times on the streets, but the anger was never directed towards her. She was used to being disliked, it came with the job title. She just never expected such anger to come from Peter, of all people. Perhaps that was her fault, or perhaps she hadn’t known the man well at all. 

“Do you really think you’re better than me? With your stupid little group that doesn’t amount to much of anything? What have you done since I left, Peter?” she said, her voice low as if anyone else could hear over the noisy atmosphere of the speakeasy. “Do you have a problem with Lucius?” she asked, genuinely curious. It never hurt to keep up on the whispers about her and her fiance, even if both of them couldn’t care less about what the Marauders or anyone linked to them had to say about them. She knew that she should be playing nice, to ensure what he knew about her past wouldn’t get out, but she wasn’t about to let him walk all over her. 

“You’re just jealous, aren’t you?” she snapped as the man continued, rambling on about her friends and how lovely the singer was on stage. “You just can’t stand the fact that I made something of myself, and you’re still practically slumming it on the streets. Some of us actually had to work for something,” she said, her eyes darting to the stage. She was tired; of this conversation, of the atmosphere in the bar, of everything that had happened tonight. 

[e-mmavanity-blog1]

amcarrows‌:

what would alecto do? he let himself wonder for a moment. she’d probably threaten to take the glass and hit it over emma’s head. but alas, he was not alecto, and he knew better than to make a scene in a public setting, let alone with someone like emma vanity. instead, he kept his eyes on the ring (bad idea) and let out a small sigh at her words. 

“well, don’t bother sending me one. save a penny.” he muttered, looking into his glass for a moment. it would be extravagant, he was sure - like the weddings they held in movies and pictures, with beautiful flowing dresses and sharp suits, hallways covered with flowers. he used to dream about it, too - long before he realized dreams weren’t for people like him. 

but for someone like her - it wasn’t an unrealistic thing. so he sat here, wondering - 

“…why do you do it? why do you stay with them?” he asked, before he could really stop himself. “i mean, you have it all, why do you still…stay with de?” 

“Oh? I thought you and Lucius were...friends,” Emma said, hesitation in her voice. The man spoke of him sometimes, though it wasn’t frequently and certainly not enough for Emma to get any idea of what Amycus was really like. “I’ll be sure to tell him you’ve made a decision already,” she said with a wave of her hand. It didn’t bother her in the slightest; he probably wouldn’t have dressed properly anyway, and there was no point in inviting him just so he could sulk in a corner for the entire evening. 

The next question, however, stopped her in her tracks. She knew that she didn’t need them for anything, but now she was far too entangled to leave. Even if Orion wasn’t present anymore, she felt obligated to stay. Whether that was Narcissa and her sisters or something else entirely, she wasn’t too sure. “They’ve done a lot for me,” she said with a bit of a shrug, a simple answer that may or may not shut him up. “I suppose I just wanted to return the favor.”

[trickormemes]

One Word Writing Prompts

Send me a number 1 thru 50 for a word that I’ll use to write either a headcanon, drabble, or starter. Send 🌀 for a random number instead.

01. — first 02. — kiss 03. — final 04. — numb 05. — broken 06. — wings 07. — melody 08. — rules 09. — chocolate 10. — nostalgia 11. — heartbeat 12. — stranger 13. — confusion 14. — bitter 15. — afterlife 16. — daybreak 17. — audience 18. — endless 19. — fireworks 20. — wishing 21. — birthday 22. — tomorrow 23. — oppression 24. — agony 25. — return 26. — protection 27. — boxes 28. — hope 29. — preparation 30. — beautiful 31. — lies 32. — underneath 33. — hide 34. — diary 35. — unforeseen 36. — conditional 37. — gone 38. — clear 39. — heartache 40. — wired 41. — insanity 42. — foolish 43. — words 44. — study 45. — love 46. — skies 47. — stars 48. — lucky 49. — shake 50. — punctual

[e-mmavanity-blog1]

strcetrat‌:

was this really how delusional emma had gotten? sure, peter had caught glimpses of this ability of hers to twist and bend reality to suit her fantasies when the two of them still lived together at the bottom of the food chain, but back then he could paint it in a positive light, could even encourage it as a means to escape the stark circumstances they existed in… if only he knew then that someday that talent would have its edge sharpened so exquisitely, he wouldn’t even feel that it was already plunged into his back until someone tapped him on the shoulder and told him about it. and that someone turned out to be emma herself, that fateful night at the premiere.

“what the hell would i want your autograph for?” the question came both out of absolute incredulity that she would dare ask him that, and out of genuine confusion. having his position now as informant with the marauders was partly because, he liked to believe, of his resourcefulness, but in truth, there was a practicality to the way peter liked to live his life, and he simply didn’t see having the autograph of an actress as anything useful, especially not when he believed that she would soon get hers for being so callous to the people around her. “i’d sooner stick with my ratty clothes than sell out to the likes of you. that way, least one of us is honest ‘bout who they are.” he leaned across the table, settling his elbow on top of it before resting his chin on the palm of his hand, face directed towards her with a sly smile spread across it. “don’t you get tired, em?” just calling her that old nickname was… ugh. “of being… this? is there anyone who even knows who you really are anymore? do you?”

it was nothing short of pulling the pin on a grenade and lobbing it in the space between them, but that didn’t make his inquiry any less real: wasn’t it exhausting? being this persona? keeping his eyes on her as he started to lean back down on his seat, peter couldn’t really tell which parts were this fabrication of a life carefully curated for the masses, or if this was who emma was all along, and he had just been too young and naive to see it. “it’s a public place. if you didn’t want someone coming up to you to talk, you could’ve just stayed yourself home instead of coming here.” here being his turf, where he could sit with her and chat her up, see how far he could get under her skin.

Talking to Peter after such a long time separated was exhausting. He had done absolutely nothing to get himself out of the unfortunate place they both had been in just a few short years ago other than joining what could only be described as a ragtag, wannabe gang with little actual power in New York, and he seemed to think he was that much better than her for doing so. At least now she had power, the influence to do nearly anything she wanted. What, with the Black sisters and Lucius on her side, she couldn’t imagine that she would get into much trouble. 

“And is this really who you are? What a sad excuse for a life,” she said with a bit of a sigh, her hands pulling her drink closer. He was getting closer and closer, and the very thought of him laying a hand on her like he used to made her sick to her stomach. Perhaps she missed her old life, a simpler time when they could be friends. But wasn’t that the problem? If she had the potential to be who she was now, why would she ever think about who she once had been? If Peter had such a problem with it, than he didn’t need to talk to her anymore. 

“I’m not sure what you mean. This is who I am,” she said with a bit of a shrug, her eyes striving to look anywhere but at the man seated across from her. Every word coming out of his mouth seemed sharpened like a sword, as if he had been preparing this spiel for months. It was nothing like they used to be, and perhaps she didn’t deserve that kindness anymore. But she wasn’t certain she deserved this. “Perhaps I’ll stay home next time. Or at least, I’ll go someplace that doesn’t let riffraff in,” she said with a sigh. 

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gxdhoods‌:

“as you wish, dearest.” he’s grinning, already mixing something in his kitchen before she even has to finish her sentence. two glasses of something tall, toxic, and bubbling slide out onto the table within minutes, and lucius takes a seat across from her, long legs crossing leisurely as he finally settles down enough to properly look at her.

he stirs his drink slowly, waiting to hold it to lips, humming quietly as she speaks, eyes too sharp over the glass to be anything casual. as always, as always.

“do refresh my memory, won’t you, darling? there’s been so much nonsense in this city that i can hardly keep track of it anymore.” he would be yawning, truly, looking out the view of the city from the city. god knows this to be true.

“why, just the other day, i had some new lowlife crawl to me for some new guns in exchange for a favour. as if i’d want anything from scum, though they seem all too rampant nowadays.” his lips curl into a sneer, if only for a moment before reconstructing itself again. “but i digress. the files?”

Only a few moments pass before there was a drink in front of her, and she smiled gently at the man before taking a few sips. It was strong, just the way he knew she liked it, and she let herself relax into the couch before chuckling at his story. “New York is always keeping you on your toes, isn’t it darling?” she asked, a shake of her head accompanying it. They were in very, very different lines of business and sometimes, she was interested in hearing about his deals. Today, however, was not the day. 

“Someone approached the Death Eaters offering information in exchange for a favor in the future. I believe it was the files stolen from the DAs office?” she said with a shrug, taking another sip of her drink before continuing. “Of course, you know Bella. She is always one for those deals, you know? But the file had more information on Orion,” she said with a bit of a chuckle. “I’m not sure why anyone still cares about that old man’s death. It was about his time, anyway.”

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strcetrat‌:

it was impossible not to scoff - and loudly too, exaggeratedly even - at emma’s response, in part because he loved having the ability to get a rise out of her, and because it proved the very accusation that he had thrown at her face: she was living in this world of denial on where she had come from, who she was, and here he was carrying all that knowledge like a grenade with his finger hooked through the pin. if he were any less human, peter would be leveraging this fact against her, it was simply prudence that stopped him. still, as human as he was, there was no denying the times that he had felt tempted, that he had considered it, particularly that very night when emma had turned her back on him…

but he had the marauders now, and as complicated as their relationships were, at the very core of the group was the genuine care and affection that they all had for each other, the very same that he used to have for emma that had turned to ashes in his hands and left a sour taste in the back of his throat. “whatever the hell they please? you mean, making small talk? i doubt you would have any complaints if i had come up here asking for your autograph as one of your adoring fans,” he said the last part with a lilting voice that carried an undercurrent of spite, smiling all the while, reassured that his good reputation around this place would clear him of any wrongdoing. emma, along with his initial experiences with the world, was one of the reasons he found it difficult to trust, to be so open, and he would never forgive her taking that away from him. “what is a hotshot, famous little actress like you doing in a place like this, anyway? felt like slumming it with the rest of us lowly street rats? word of advice: you should be careful, coming ‘round here… someone might mistake you for one, and we don’t want that, do we?”

If she was being honest, Emma would say that Peter had far too much power in their unfortunate situation. Building a new life from the ground up hadn’t been easy, and her old friend seemed to want to make it harder for her to separate herself. His words were biting, uncaring how they sounded in a bar full of strangers. But what else did she expect?

Sure, perhaps the blame was partly on her. There wasn’t a need to cut him completely out of her life, but surely he had to know that there wasn’t a place for him in the public eye. Not associated to her, anyway. “Did you want an autograph?” she finally responded, her eyes sparkling as she crafted a careful response for the man she used to know so well. “Perhaps you could sell it, get yourself something...well, something nicer to wear.” 

There was still a part of her that wanted to know how he was doing, what exactly he was up to, but she knew that it wasn’t her place to ask anymore. “I wanted a change of scenery, but I didn’t think there would be so much...well, interaction with the others,” she said, knowing her words were just leaving more room for criticism, more ways for him to twist them into something that he may want to hear. But she was already tired of this conversation, and was trying to calculate the best way to get out. 

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amcarrows‌

amycus fought an urge to roll his eyes at her attempt to strike a conversation, and instead finally turned towards her and sipped at his drink again. “i come here to think, sometimes. it helps that i don’t know most people here.” 

and he was usually so good at holding his tongue as speaking his mind rarely got him what he wanted, but he was bitter - almost as bitter as the alcohol in his throat. “though i won’t be coming here much anymore, i suppose, now that i know you like to stop by.” 

with that, he downed the rest of his drink and scowled, something rather shiny sitting on her finger catching his eyes. 

“ - when is it going to be?” amycus asked, voice quiet. “the wedding.” 

It was no secret that there weren’t many Death Eaters that liked her. However, the biting words from someone who should have been a companion still stung. She was an actress, the criticism often spat behind her back. She was better and better at taking it every day, but she wondered if this was how most of the group felt. “I wasn’t planning on making a habit of it. This isn’t exactly my scene, you know? Seems more like your crowd.” 

Her eyes fell to the ring, just another example of how good she was at her job. “Oh, we haven’t exactly decided yet. Trying to find the right venue, and planning around filming can be quite difficult, you know. You’ll receive an invitation as soon as we send them out, I’m sure,” she said, her normal spiel when someone in their circle asked. 

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gxdhoods‌:

uncommon, perhaps, but lucius was nothing if not one for the odd - fiances known but not loved, and known that this was so - mutual, they had decided, to keep their relationship as what it was meant to be at its core: transactional. 

still, a key to his place rests in her purse and a key to hers hangs next to his door; still, her voice rings through the rooms with the familiarity of - perhaps not a friend, but an old acquaintance. admittedly, he liked the girl enough, and there were worse people to hold falsities of love in front of cities uncaring with. 

“i’d believe anything you’d tell me, darling - you know that best.” he says, emerging from the doorway of his workroom. the words are soft - endearing, almost - but tones are still ever-cold, all gunmetal. just how they both like it. 

“have a seat, and tell me what news is so ludicrous that i wouldn’t believe it.” he gestures to the living room, already striding past her into the kitchen. “tea, perhaps, to go with it? or something stronger?” 

It was a funny thing, their relationship, but she still smiled as Lucius appeared in the doorway. She didn’t particularly need him for much, but it was nice to have someone to talk to every once in a while, someone removed from most of the madness in her life. “Anything, hm?” she asked with a soft chuckle, taking a seat on his couch and letting herself settle in. 

“Oh, I could go for something stronger. It’s...well, it’s been a long day,” she said, head resting against the back of the couch. Perhaps that had something to do with the hours spent at the Black sisters’ manor, but he didn’t need to know everything, now did he? That was part of their trade-off: they got their own space to be themselves, though she may have taken a few liberties with the idea. “I did tell you about the file nonsense, didn’t I?” she asked, wondering what exactly she had told him about BCJ. 

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tcbedestroyed‌:

“it’d be ideal.” rabastan said, looking longingly at his book for a moment. he didn’t….hate talking to emma. it just felt as if he was missing out on something inside those pages. he glanced back up to her, grabbing a rag and some glasses to clean. if he wasn’t going to be able to read, he could at least be productive. more of bella’s idea of the word rather than his, though.

“you’re always up to more exciting things, aren’t you miss vanity? not like the rest of us.” he saod as he set the glass down. “it’s just beginning sadly. the night shift, you know, it’s brutal.”

“My life is very...different than yours, yes. But that doesn’t mean you’re not...interesting,” Emma said, her eyes falling on the man’s hands as he cleaned the glasses. “I’m sure you could make your life interesting, if you really wanted to,” she said, glancing around at the bar. “Besides, I”m sure this crowd keeps things interesting,” she said with a bit of a smile. 

Though she wasn’t entirely sure she would ever want his job.