how can i fuck with the fun if i'm known

bussing more tables than my pussy

[rebelfarley]

maggiemaeking​:

.

Maggie sighed as she pushed into the bathroom, pausing momentarily at Rebel’s statement. “I’m pretty sure Babooshka is a Russian grandmother— what are you talking about?”

Maggie hopped up on the sink, getting comfortable as Rebel covered herself with bubbles. Things had been tense between them for weeks, ever since the reality of magic was revealed and Maggie discovered that Rebel had it. At first, the unease was rooted in jealousy. Magic was something Maggie had always believed in and finding out that it was in fact real and that she didn’t have it, that hurt. 

Once the initial shock of that wore off, Maggie was more hurt that Rebel hadn’t told her. Though their friendship was new, Maggie had been nothing but supportive of the other woman since she had discovered her. 

“Nevermind— I need to tell you about the absolute nutter I met a few weeks ago. I tried to forget about her immediately but I keep seeing her stupid fliers around town and it’s driving me mad. People are taking this whole ‘magic is real’ thing way worse than I did and honestly, they just need to calm down.

.

The cuckoo clock Rebel had installed herself on a very lovely manic night rang out, the clucking of the turkey vulture inside just as viscous at it appeared. She couldn’t help but laugh outright as she always did, whenever it went off. The alarm she’d charmed it go off for was at the same time everyday. Thoughts covered her as much as the lavender bubbles did, submerging her limbs so deeply that the clock went forgotten.

Her giggle came to a halt, tongue tentatively running over her lips. There had never been hesitation alive in her shining, brown eyes, but it stood rather presents these long weeks they now lived together. Eventually, she found her voice and spoke, “You know what that means.” But Maggie could not have, because all the woman ever shared as she made dashes towards the door was that she was running late. Never for where, or what. It was hard to reason with a reluctant witch and Rebel could never blame Maggie or Yari if together they decided to throw her back out into the abyss.

She’d loved living her life as a muggle, but all her skeletons remained with wizards.

That in mind, she utilized her wand once more to bring a towel around her body as she stepped from the tub she wished to never leave. It always warmed her chilly, achy bones in ways people no longer could.

“Bye, Maggie Mae. Can we try this again later?”

It was hard to distinguish true motives, when she was constantly running, but always making so many promises. Rebel just hoped, hoped to God, Maggie was not another person she was trashing around. She hoped Maggie knew she cared.

If only she’d properly show it.

fin.

[rebelfarley]

when: 20 November 1980 where: Oxford flat who: Rebel Farley + Maggie Mae ( @maggiemaeking )

Knock at the bathroom’s door, Rebel gave a small shout to beckon the flat-mate of the hour inside. She purposefully left doors that kept her sheltered inside, unlocked. Anyone was free to enter, because she was safe here. She was safe inside this flat, if not yet her own mind.

“I don’t know who Babooshka is, but I get her.”

Was life not much simpler when doused in lavender scented bubbles and bath salts while fantasizing about Kate Bush and her dancer’s hips? Gone were the bruises that had once scattered her face and arms when she’d come across Maggie for the very first time early October. The kindness of a stranger hadn’t healed her at once, but it had helped Rebel take the sort of leaps she had been procrastinating.

Rebel used the wand placed at the tub’s lip to quiet down the record that turned endlessly nearby. It wasn’t unusual for the witch to lug around the vinyl player if only to listen to music in the tub. It was almost as crucial as the lined up pill bottles stored beyond the mirror’s cabinets. Things were rather rocky here, ever since the day Rebel, without any thought at all due to the stress of the falling world around them, accio’d her meds rather than walking across the room for them. Of course, Maggie had been there to witness it. Hey, the truth would’ve come out sooner than later. Loose lips were Rebel’s thing, but anyway...

This might’ve been one of the first times guilt sunk so deeply into Rebel’s skin, she felt the need to scrub it away with an exfoliating loofa.

“How may I help you, Pegs?”

[kikat1995]

New year resolutions

[rebelfarley]

You don't know me any better than they do, baby My time is run over, so the only time you'll ever see me Is in your dreams, in my black bathing suit Lookin' at me lookin' over at you real cute 'cause

So I'm not friends with my mother but still love my dad Untraditional lover, can you handle that? I guess I'm complicated, my life sorta too I wish you could see to my soul through this black bathing suit

[rebelfarley]

📍 Ministry of Magic, London 🕐 12 October 1980; 9 a.m.

@rebelrebel: Rebel did not show for the filming of her upcoming episode of Fame or Shame on the 7th of October, nor any scheduled appointments following, and has not responded to iFlown messages or owls from friends or family in the following days. Contact auror offices or me (Rebel’s brother) @jakefartly. Thanks. Rebel, come home. xx Jake

[juanitasupreme]

[rebelfarley]

📍 Shutter Up Studios 🕐 30 September 1980

@rebelrebel: you’ve all been begging, of course i’ve heard you loud and clear. the time’s arrived! check out my tell-all spread, exclusively with indie magazine Stars Almanac in tomorrow’s October release. i’m HOT off the press 🔥

[rebelfarley]

bandagedbailey​:

.

“May as well give them one,” said Bailey. “Isn’t that how people stay relevant to begin with? It’s not about the work you’re doing but whether the press still cares about the minutiae of your life. And people do love a good scandal. That’s why most people even know who celebrities are in the first place. You’ll just have to figure out how else you can capitalize on what you’ve started here.” 

Bailey tilted her head. “Don’t know that I know so much about the entertainment business. Besides, she’s in that Star Boy film, so everyone loves her.” 

“Star. Wars.” Rebel annunciated, with an uncharacteristic snort punctuating the sentiment. “Which reminds me how bad I’m craving cinema sweetcorn. I’m going out of my mind bonkers just thinking about it.” That might’ve not been the most comforting thing to say as Rebel backed into a parking stall, but neither was the gasp that escaped her frame. It was a false alarm, as she beamed, “Wicked park job. Not the only job m’skilled in, apparently.” Who needed a goddamned broom, anyway?

fin.

[rebelfarley]

bandagedbailey​:

.

“Because the world runs on money,” said Bailey with a shrug. It was an unavoidable fact of life. There was a reason the saying ‘money talks’ existed, right? She glanced over. “Everyone cares about money. The rich care about money because it funds the cushy lifestyles they’re used to and the poor care about money because they need it more than anyone else just so they don’t starve.” 

She grinned. “Yeah? Would you even trust me enough to not do something completely mad in an interview? See, that’s how celebrities stay relevant. Flash your tits at a camera or get caught drunk and disorderly.” At least she could only assume. Anything she knew about anyone famous was always something like that. She usually didn’t keep up with it unless something truly insane happened and that’s when she cared. “These interviews about what happened and why you would throw away your career just to make a quick buck?” she asked. “Carrie Fisher? Though, she’s American.” 

.

“The thing is, Bails,” where there was a Rebel Farley, there was a nickname to be had for everyone she met, “the press is going to expect some wild story. Something juicier than a George peach.” She sighed, a small, sardonic chuckle following. “All I’ve got to say is I’m greedy. I wanted money I never dreamed of seeing. I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for those meddling kids.” She snorted, glancing over her shoulder as she slowed to a stop, finally ready to give a go at the whole parallel parking shindig.

“Fuck, she’s proper fit. Should have hired you as my manager long, long ago. You know how the entertainment business better than I do.”

[rebelfarley]

nguyencleo​:

aruncorn​:

​.

A.J. leaned against the cold, metal poles that held up the swing set build decades before. Everything about it, about Cardiff really, felt decaying. A withering away of sorts. It was that energy that appealed to A.J. immediately; it felt more like home than any flat or home that occupied the memories of his childhood. His dark gaze landed on Rebel eventually, his brain mulling over the statement she posited, his mouth remaining silent. He didn’t believe in fate, that his life served some grand purpose; it all was random and chaotic. 

.​

Cleo was realistic to a fault, not having the time for believing in simulations, or greater goods, or a life that they were all meant to lead. She worked with what was right in front of her. Skin. Machinery. Tangible objects that allowed her to exert power over something. Never the universe. 

She walked around Rebel, now standing in front of her, gloved hands shoved into coat pockets. “So your life got fucked up. So people hate you. So you fade into obscurity. I hate to break it to you Farley, but none of those are the worst things that can happen to a person. If you’re looking for someone to feel sorry for you, it won’t be me.” Was she being too harsh? There was more than just a little possibility of that. But she wasn’t here to debate philosophy.

“Now, either go lay down and stare at the stars, or get up and walk away.” A practice in patience might have gone far. She just had little time for wallowing when there was much more that life had to offer. Like quick and dirty vengeance.

@rebelfarley​

.

You never wanted to hear what you needed to hear. The proper baby Rebel was, did not meet the eye of Cleo’s, chin slightly trembling no matter how hard she tried with all of that Quidditch might to fight against it. That’s about the only strength she possessed, other than the ability to drink about anybody underneath the table, and she was from fucking England. When you’d had your feelings coddled your entire life, the swift kick to the arse of a reality check really set her off.

Unable to enjoy the swing set, not because the rubber was digging into the backs of her thighs, but because she refused to feel an ounce of pleasure after feeling properly scolded like a child. Cleo might as well have sent Rebel off to a timeout in a quiet corner, the way the petite woman stalked off and away from the park without hesitation. She refused to leave the confines of her own reality. 

Too humiliated by her own dramatics almost instantaneously, she refused to look back at either of their faces. Surely, it’d be easy for them to move on from this encounter as quickly as it’d happened. But Rebel, Rebel would dwell all night long, until she was neck deep into a bottle of vodka at sunrise.

She cried all the way home, running most the way.

fin.

[rebelfarley]

[humorblr]

[rebelfarley]

nguyencleo​:

aruncorn​:

A.J. watched as Rebel charged ahead of them, captured within her own world. Curious; there was too much of her, too much of Cleo as well for that matter, that he had yet to figure out fully. Maybe he never would. A.J. did not need to satisfy his curiosity. Sometimes, he wondered for as much as Rebel sought to escape the eyes of recognition, she also craved it. 

As he followed behind, lingering near Cleo, he reached into his pocket to grab a pack of cigarettes. He placed one between his lips, igniting it—basking in the irony of inhaling something that surely would kill him eventually, despite his medical training. He offered the pack to Cleo, then nodded toward Rebel. 

“Your turn.” 

.

Cleo scowled at A.J., grabbing the entire pack of cigarettes away from them as she marched forward to perform her very best impression of someone who wanted to push people on swings. Never one to dwell much on her emotions, she wasn’t always adept at handling others. That was one of the downfalls of working alone. Most people learned how to play nicely. Cleo lived by her own code, which could at times, be mistakenly cruel.

Without waiting for any further confirmation that this was what Rebel wanted, she pushed hard on her friend’s back. “You’re never the silent type. Which means something’s wrong. You can either tell me what, or I’ll just ignore that anything happened.” No mincing of words. Cleo didn’t have time to dig into other people’s psyches when her own was already a mess of twisted metal.

@rebelfarley​

.

“Are you talking to me?” Rebel faked an accusatory tone, laughing as her legs began to lead her forward, then back, until she was as high as need be. 

She watched smoke rise towards the night sky, burning the hairs at the end of the lit cigarette. Though the familiar sting of tar and tobacco felt to be Rebel’s closest ally, A.J. and Cleo stood before her now. It was unexpected to feel pulled towards spilling her insides onto the pavement below, for the pair to see everything Rebel’d ever felt, or not felt.

Her legs stopped mid-air, the swing slowly easing out of the steep rises, until she could place custom-Harpies converse clad feet flat to the ground.

“Life,” another laugh cut through the air, though this one solemn in sound. Half empty, just like her. Like sands through the hourglass, Rebel was slowly seeping away. It felt unreal. She was not real. None of this was. “It’s got to be a simulation. I wish they’d fix the glitch in my stupid eyesight already.”

@aruncorn​

[juanitasupreme]

[rebelfarley]

bandagedbailey​:

.

Bailey shrugged. “I’m shit at saving, too. Always figure next time round I’ll put some money away, but then a pair of shoes or a new shade of lipstick calls to me and I can’t help but be frivolous. It’s why I draw the line at drinks and make other people pay for them at the pub,” she said. “She hang around Banchory? Bet she could find some start up money, there. People there always seem to have money to throw around.”

Bailey leaned back in the car. “So, what’re you planning on doing now, anyway? Now that all that Quidditch stuff is behind you? Or is being in the league like being in a film? Every time they use your name or likeness somewhere you still get some money from that? What I wouldn’t give to sell my face or body so that I could get a cut for the rest of my life and do the bare minimum. Maybe start my own clinic somewhere.” 

.

“Why can’t we all agree to never have to pay for housing again? That way I could irresponsibly blow all my funds. On fun shite, like your pretty shoes and lipst-- ooh, those are nice shoes.” Rebel could hardly center herself on the task of driving at hand, the words of her mother ringing throughout her ears. It was all she’d ever dreamed of, opening a restaurant, because her father hadn’t always been the most supporting. They hadn’t even been faithful to each other in all of their years of marriage and they did not pretend to be a happy couple, but they remained together. Rebel could be the one to support her mother now, but why in the hell should she have? She was the child. She fought any bad thoughts by laughing at Bailey’s statement about Banchory, “No shit, right?” She used to poke fun at the rich, but she was one of them now, wasn’t she?

“Eh, they can talk about me all they want. Happens when you violate a rule or two in your contract.” Rebel could’ve done with a much better lawyer way back then, but she’d been a kid. An eager one, at that. Fame was all everyone had ever dreamed of, she thought, and she could have it with a signature or twenty or whatever. “I don’t care so much about the money, anyway.” Lie. 

“You feel like polyjuicing yourself as me? Doing a few exclusive interviews? I’ve gotten thousands of owls. M’not even kidding, Bailey, thousands. I could make my own film, but there’s not really an inspiring ending to this one. I wonder what actress would play me.”

[rebelfarley]

nguyencleo​:

aruncorn​:

A.J. grinned wryly and he shook his head, sipping his drink after. He wouldn’t need to sleep with an eye open (if he did manage fall asleep tonight, that is), because— “Shave it off. I don’t care.” Hair grew back; surely, there was a charm to expedite that process. He shrugged nonchalantly, entirely indifferent. “I’d look like shit, probably, but what’s new?” He brought the drink back to his lips, letting more of the liquid slide down his throat. Without verbally agreeing, A.J. found himself game to venture outside to watch the stars. It seemed like a decent enough place to smoke grass, anyway, and after a grueling week, he needed it. “Fine, I’m coming. Don’t yell at me, I’m a sensitive soul,” A.J. in the most sardonic tone fathomable. 

​

.

Cleo grimaced at the idea, never being one for the great outdoors. Much preferring life with a roof over her head, whether that was in a garage, or her comfortable flat, it didn’t matter. “I didn’t take you for such a romantic, Farley.” Stars, staring at them at night, it was all just a little too cliché for her tastes, but she’d make the sacrifice just this once.

“I’m not staying out all night,” Cleo warned, more towards Rebel than A.J., given who seemed to be running the show. She was still processing just how close the pair of them were, with how easily A.J. acquiesced to the request. Even more of a reason to leave early.

​

Rebel heard every word Cleo spoke and went ahead, ignoring them. Sometimes things were better off sounding rhetorical. It was rough edges she took eager leaps to maintain, painting herself into leather and always smelling of weed and tobacco cigarettes. She was not happy, therefore, she never once wanted to put an ounce of that faux energy into the world. Yet something about being called romantic seemingly erased all of the carefully crafted work and walls she’d built up. Rebel could not respond or protest. This was the hill she chose to die on tonight, not many of them left for her to reside. Because A.J. could joke about being a sensitive soul and nobody would take them literally. She couldn’t bear to hear everyone agree with her, least of all Cleo, the toughest one of all.

They wouldn’t be abandoning alcohol for long, because without a doubt there’d be a bottle of vodka stuffed somewhere with an extendable charm. Did she ever leave the house without it? There was a corner park situated only a minute away, Rebel’s pace speeding up to walk feet ahead. She felt the need to hide her face while she could help it.

It wasn’t only the stars she chased, but a chance to get away from a pub of people that surely knew of her face. People had stared at Rebel more than she glanced at her own reflection in the mirror. She was also after the swing set and situated her butt right into one of the rubber seats immediately.

“Oi,” she chimed in, finally breaking through the tension she might’ve been imagining, “a girl needs a bloody push.”

@aruncorn​

[rebelfarley]

nguyencleo​:

aruncorn​:

.

A.J. was a sellout; that, he wouldn’t dispute. All that aside, he appreciated the steady income. “A signature Rebel Farley,” he added gesturing to his hair before reaching for the drink and taking a large swig. At the mention of her tits, A.J. found it hard to keep his eyes focussed away, because—well—they were quite large. He cleared his throat. “How the hell am I going to fix my roots, then?” 

​​

.

“She’s been drinking since before I got here,” Cleo replied, though even then, it wouldn’t matter. Rebel seemed to enjoy knocking back shots as though she were going to die the very next minute. As opposed to Cleo, who sipped at her whisky with all of the control of an artist, attempting to figure out which stroke to make next. “You won’t fix them by staring at her tits. I’d recommend just shaving it all off. If you don’t have roots, there’s nothing to fix.” Whether or not she was joking—she didn’t care either way.

@rebelfarley​

.

Rebel’s tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth, slightly out of cockiness and also because she was imagining Cleo’s vision as she spoke it into existence. “Shave it,” she so declared, grinning at A.J. Surely potions and stylists existed that could do such in a snap and perhaps Rebel would even pay for the experiments herself. Perhaps, not definitely. However, the do-it-yourself attitude was more appealing to her alcohol fueled thoughts.

“If you don’t do it, I would advise you to sleep with an eye open. That’s all I’ll say about that.” She tugged the zipper along her lips, closing securely shut. Of course, Rebel could never keep quiet for too long, “Do you guys want to watch the stars once more before weather takes a turn for the worse?” She actually quite enjoyed autumn and was ready to slide into a different season of life. It might’ve been what she needed most of all. “I’m only asking nicely once. Say yes.”

@aruncorn​