Found Family (2/?)
Hey, so I genuinely expected zero reaction to the first part (because the nysm fandom has cooled down a lot since the second movie came out) but it was great to see people reacting to it! (Even if it was just 2 likes 😅)
Anyway, here’s the next part! To those few of you reading, enjoy 😉.
Fandom: Now You See Me
Pairing: Daniel Atlas x Reader
Warnings: nothing, just you sharing a pizza with Danny.
Part 1 Part 3
The six of you spent the next hour going over the plans and working out the minor details. You and Lula were to make your debut with the Horsemen on the stage at the launch in three weeks’ time. With less than a month to prepare, you were to work with the other three Horsemen on a set for the performance.
Having been a duo for your whole magic career, Dylan suggested you and Lula split up for this first performance and do your acts with Atlas and Merritt respectively. It made sense, considering you were an escape artist, just like Atlas’s last partner had been. Henley.
When he heard what your specialised area of magic was, Atlas looked at you with an unreadable expression. It was a little unsettling and you got the impression you had let him down in some way.
“Okay, let’s wrap it up for today,” Dylan said, rolling up the blueprints.
With a sigh you realised you and Lula still had to catch the subway home.
“Yeah, we have to go now, Lula, if we’re going to get home before midnight,” you said, pulling your leather jacket on.
“Actually, ladies,” Dylan added, making you pause your search for your keys, “It might be easier if you both lived a little closer so we can all stick together. I have an extra room in this apartment for one of you and Danny has another in his.”
“Oh, I call crashing here!” Lula said, flopping onto the couch and giving you what she probably thought was an inconspicuous wink, “I looked around earlier, this place is nuts.”
“I guess that leaves Y/n with me,” Atlas said, catching your eye.
You gave him a small smile, “Thanks.”
“Jack, you don’t live too far from here, do you?” Lula was asking.
“And that is my cue to leave,” you said quickly, grabbing your phone and making your way to the stairs.
“Yeah, me too,” Atlas said, following after you.
Once outside, you suddenly realised you were going to be spending a lot of time alone with Atlas if you were living with him. It was a jarring thought. You also realised — as he climbed onto his motorbike — that you had taken the subway here.
“Um, any chance Dylan has another one of those lying around here somewhere?” you asked, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets.
His quirked his brows, an amused smile playing around his mouth, “Nope. You’re riding with me. Here.”
He extended an extra helmet to you and you took it, quickly placing it on your head and hopping on behind Atlas.
“Hold on,” he said.
Settling your resolve, you held onto his waist.
Unfortunately, you had never ridden as a passenger before, so the minute he pulled away, you panicked and wrapped your arms around him for dear life.
“Jesus, I wish I was driving,” you muttered, making him chuckle.
Luckily the drive took only ten minutes, and before you knew it you were stopping in a garage underneath an apartment building.
“I’ll ask Dylan to uh… acquire another bike for you,” Atlas said as you climbed off and began unbuckling the helmet.
“Acquire…?” You asked, frowning slightly at his strange word choice.
“Uh, yeah, because he doesn’t buy them.”
Your eyes widened, staring down at the bike you were just on.
“Don’t worry,” he added, “Only from big multinational companies who’s profits are barely affected.”
“Well, okay then,” you said, feeling a little surreal.
You followed Atlas to the stairs and the two of you climbed them to the third floor.
The apartment was actually quite nice. There was a couch and a television on one side and a good sized kitchen on the other with a corridor branching off in the middle. You guessed that that was where the bathroom and bedrooms were. You suddenly realised you didn’t have your night clothes with you. Or any of your stuff for that matter.
“Um, I don’t have any clothes or toiletries,” you said softly, feeling a little awkward standing there as Atlas moved about the apartment.
“Actually, you do,” he said, opening the fridge, “Dylan moved all your stuff here. It’s in your room. First door on the right, by the way.”
You were shocked. Not because Dylan had somehow managed to move all your stuff here, but because of your lack of shock that he had. Barely twenty-four hours into being a Horseman and you were already getting accustomed to the abnormality.
“Oh, okay. Thanks,” you said, walking down the hall and opening the door he’d instructed.
Sure enough, a suitcase full of clothes sat on the bed, and two boxes full of books lay on the floor. There was a large window with the curtains drawn and an empty bookshelf against the wall.
All in all, it was probably the best room you’d ever had.
Changing into your tracksuit pants and a spaghetti strap top, you walked back into the main space.
“Did I hear the doorbell?” You asked, padding into the kitchen where Atlas was typing away on his laptop, his eyes focused intently on the screen.
“Uh, yes. I ordered pizza. Got a Hawaiian and a ham and mushroom. I’ll eat either, so take your pick,” he replied, jerking his head at the coffee table where there were indeed two pizza boxes. Your stomach growled in response to the idea of food.
With a grateful smile, you gathered your confidence and said, “You know, since we’re gonna be living together, we should take this brief period of respite to get to know each other.”
His hands froze on the keyboard and he slowly retracted them from the laptop, turning in his chair to face you, “Alright, what do you want to know?”
You shook your head and leaned against the armrest furthest from him, gesturing for him to sit down opposite you, “Come on, Atlas. Don’t leave me hanging.”
He sighed, but it seemed less frustrated and more playful. You grinned as he got up only to plop down next to you. Leaning forward, you grabbed a pizza.
“I’ll eat half of this one, and you eat half of the other, then we’ll swap? Deal?”
He nodded, grabbing the other box.
You grabbed a slice of ham and mushroom and hummed happily at the familiar flavour.
“Okay, I’m just going to get this out of the way quickly so we can clear the air,” you said eventually, tucking your legs underneath your body and avoiding his gaze, “I’m sorry my sister broke into your apartment. I know you and the others aren’t exactly overjoyed to have new teammates, but I promise we’re not just run-of-the-mill, amateur-“
“Oh no,” Atlas interjected, a slice of Hawaiian balanced precariously in one hand, “believe me, you I don’t have a problem with. You seem sensible and probably a necessary addition to the group considering the maturity level you already witnessed today. Plus, you’re an escape artist and our old one left a while back.”
Your expression softened, “Yeah, Henley, right? You guys were together?”
He nodded, “Uh, yeah, but that’s irrelevant. My point is, you I don’t mind. Your sister on the other hand…”
You laughed softly, glad to see the tension seep from the room, “Lula… she’s my older sister, but I’m the one who looks after her. She’s always been unpredictable and a little erratic, but once you get to know her you’ll see there isn’t a more loyal friend you could have. She’s the reason I got into magic, actually.”
Atlas quirked his brow, tilting his head in silent query.
“When we were kids, Lula was obsessed with Lionel Shrike,” you began, aware of his eyes fixated on your face, “She would read every book on magic she could find just to see if there was any information about his tricks in there. She idolised him. I was 7 and she was 9, and while she was gushing over his card in the tree trick, I was frightened by his failed safe. I knew one day Lula was likely to out herself in a similar situation, and unless I learnt how to break her out of anything, I would lose her.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility for a seven-year-old to take on,” Atlas murmured.
You shrugged, fiddling with your charm bracelet, “As I said, she’s the oldest, but I protect her. I always have. Anyway, from then on I began teaching myself magic tricks. While Lula taught me card work and illusions, I took it upon myself to learn the art of escaping. Trucker’s hitch, Bowline, Clove Hitch, you name it, I learnt how to escape from it.”
“So you became an escape artist to save your sister if she ever tried something stupid,” Atlas summed up and you nodded, “But you do like magic right?”
“Oh of course! Somewhere down the line I obviously realised I had found a passion in magic, but that didn’t divert my attention from my main goal,” you said.
“Is that why you decided to join the Horsemen?”
You gave him a bemused smile, “This is a lot of questions from someone who seemed content to sit in awkward silence ten minutes ago.”
He huffed a laugh, “Yeah, well I’ve been known to be uh, standoffish. At least, that’s what others tell me.”
“I get it,” you mused, “I’m the kind of person who enjoys her own company more than other people’s.”
“It’s just easier, right?” He agreed, “You can’t control social situations. It’s like jumping straight in the deep end every time you enter a conversation.”
“Merritt was wrong, you definitely don’t have control issues,” you stated, sarcasm dripping off your tone.
He nodded, “Yep, I stepped right into that one.”
You laughed softly, chewing and swallowing another bite of pizza, “Jokes aside though, I do get it. We might have more in common than we thought, Atlas.”
“You can call me Danny,” he said, “Atlas sounds far too much like Dylan or Merritt. If we’re going to he living together we might as well be on a first name basis.”
“Good point… Danny. In that case just call me Y/n.”
“It’s nice to officially meet you, Y/n,” he said, a small, genuine smile spreading across his face.
“Likewise, Danny,” you replied, grinning. Then, reaching for the deck of playing cards lying on the far side of the coffee table, you shuffled around with them before spreading them out upside down and instructing, “Alright, pick a card, any card.”
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Glamourye (Illusion Magick)
(pic & (most of) post by The Silver Elves)
The Path of the Illusionist is the way of Glamor and Glamoury. Illusionists deal primarily with the appearance of things. We are Masters of the Magick of Sensory Manipulation, and experts at creating just the right atmosphere for any occasion. In the play of life, it is we who create the props, the sets, the costumes, and the music. We are Masters of Mood. The purveyors of the vital elements of setting.
There are surely some who would be of the opinion that the work the Illusionist does is unimportant or even evil. But the Elfin are aware of how much these things add to the success of any venture. It is rather like a play... it is true that a good play with good actors requires neither costumes nor props nor scenery nor any outer accessory, and yet how much is added to the play, how much is its effect heightened, when we have those very things done well?
The Illusionist also has the knowledge and power of camouflage and protective coloring. Often we find these magick workers among those who must frequently go among mankind and other races (raises hand) for they are adept at fitting in and appearing to be just like everyone else. This, at times, can be an important function for nearly all Faerie Folk; however, Illusionists are experts in our field.
It is Illusionists, in fact, that protect Faerie from intrusion or even being found by those who are not ready for the splendor and wonder of that radiant plane of being. Paradoxically, it is also Illusionists who help reveal to those who are ready the illusionary nature of seeming Reality. For we know better than anyone how illusionary that world is. Thus curiously the Illusionist not only performs great feats of illusion, but by doing so makes layfolk aware that they are illusions and that things are never what they seem.
To most folk, Faerie its'elf is illusion because it seems to be a realm born of and composed of fantasy and this has truth to it. But it is a fantasy that has life in the realm of Spirit and Soul and these worlds, while invisible to ordinary sight, are the true energetic reality, and the realm of materiality which seems so solid and real is, in truth, the real world of illusion.
Now for my two sense! As an Illusionist, my power is rooted in Mind Control. Because let's be honest: to manipulate perception you must manipulate the mind. I often get accused of lying or Goddess forbid "not taking things seriously enough." This is because Illusion Magick has consequences. These consequences are us ending up embodying the essence of Glamour, or worse, getting trapped in the Glamours we create. Glamour, while real magick, is still an illusion and therefore subject to trickery. We are often like the Jesters of Old, and many of us enjoy playing pranks (raises hand). And can you blame us? Illusion was made to entertain others! Just because I'm an Enchanter, doesn't mean I can't be serious. My question is this: if it helps & does what we claim it does, does it make a difference if it is trickery or 'real?' No, no it doesn't.
Sources:
• Having a specialty in Glamourye, and constantly accused of things I did not do, being called a fake/fraud, etc.
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