#imagine this on stage performin his ass off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xolotoofficial · 4 years

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Recorded in Advance

> “Alright, babe,” Marvus’ manager starts, making sure the bandages around his chest are well visible under his jacket, but not as visible as the layers of gold chains sitting on top. He smirks and pats him on the shoulders, eying the golden diamond-shaped studs in his ears. “You’re looking pitiful enough. Go out there and make me and your clown buddies proud.”

Marvus feels way better now that he’s had a couple of days to heal. If he was, oh, Jade, let’s say, it would probably take much longer for him to heal, but he slowly swaggers into the interview, feeling like a million but walking like he’s still injured, but healing. The stab wounds on his body were closed up at this point, and the scarring was already looking pretty minimal, but he looked like he was being held together by cotton and stitches under all the wrappings.

The day he woke up, he let them photograph his chest, and it was emblazoned across every magazine - a clown, martyred at his own show, bloody and pitiful, tore the fuck up and still devastatingly hot. Gore was barely a kink on Alternia.

The cerulean woman in her pencil skirt and killer heels splattered with warm blood sits with a notepad in her lap and a winning smile. She was a familiar site. They had done interviews before, and she was very efficient. “Are you ready? Do you remember all the questions and answers we’re going through today, Mr. Xoloto?”

He smiles and nods, feeling the cameras on him again. It’s familiar, and he can honestly say he missed it. “Yes, I remember. It’s a steel trap up here, even if it’s been knocked around a lil’ bit.”

She feigns concern and they both cackle with each other. She was easy to win over, as easy as anyone else, but at least she had fun with it.

“You’re such a messy bitch.” She croons, recrossing her legs, one set of eyes looking at her notes and the other staring into him with glee. “Alright, everyone shut up and start rolling!...” She herself smiles into the camera. “Hello and welcome to all of you at hive watching, this is Krayvt Terrox, of course. Today I’m joined by one of the most masterful jesters this side of Alternia in an exclusive interview. Known for the size of his crowds, the size of the bloodshed, and the size of him… well. Marvus Xoloto, it’s so good to have you here, and so soon after this grizzly attempt on your life.”

He smiles and nods lazily, moving very little. “Only by motherfuckin’ grace, sister. It’s great to be here, Kravyt.”

“Let’s start with the obvious - your attacker isn’t a stranger to the disciplinary system, and according to multiple sources, he’s been on the cull list for some time for abandoning his duties and past violence on trolls of higher blood. It’s rather stupid of him to brazenly walk on stage when common knowledge among us who actually use our pans that you like to keep a certain amount of attention and cameras on you. I have to ask, did you know Lanque Bombyx personally?”

Marvus shakes his head. “No. We had some mutual acquaintances once upon a time, but I didn’t know him, or about him, or get any warnin’s on his violent ass nature. We’ve attended some same parties, but other than that? Nada.”

“Oh, interesting. Let’s start with those acquaintances. Did you have any altercations or issues with those mutual acquaintances?”

He shakes his head again. “Oh, no. It’s funny, the only people we both knew seemed to either not want much to do with him, or just didn’t have nice things to say. I take care of my friends, ya know? And that includes listenin’ to em, so I did my best.”

“Of course, Marvus the Great wouldn’t be associating with such base criminals. I’m sure the people who lost him to the cull list were very disappointed.”

Marvus laughs. Thinking of Daraya being disappointed in Lanque’s crimes tickled him. “Can’t say fer sure since he came up so rarely, but I’m sure they were pretty g-d bummed.”

Kravyt’s eyes narrow and she leans in. “Now, about the parties? What’s the secret there?”

“Oh, god, ain’t no secret. They was jus’ meetin’ ups I was havin’ with some of my siblin’s. He was there at the same time, in my ass and all that. The only secret I might think was there was that he was followin’ me. Ain’t uncommon, but ain’t impressive on me.”

His interrorgator simply laughed, flipped a page in her paper. “Gosh, this is a funnier story than I expected. Here we all were, thinking he was some sort of hired hand or a wronged quad, but he’s really a jealous nobody. So, what happened that night? Why does Marvus Xoloto lose to an overly desperate fan like that? It’s not every day that someone attempts on a clown’s life, let alone escapes from the scene, and a Jade blood on top of that. A well-trained subjugglator would be expected to win that match up, easy.”

“Well, I ain’t subjug trained, I’m laughsassin trained. We more like a clown utility knife, less of a club to the face, ya dig?” One hand plays with a chain around his neck, the other hand waving away the last statement. “Not disparagin’ of course, I love the heavy hitters in my family, but I ain’t made to maintain that kinda rage all long term and shit. After a bumpin’ ass night of performin’, ya could guess that I was tired a-f. Ain’t help that on top of tired I was all cocky and shit - I’ve always been the type for spectacle, and I ain’t thought that through much at the time. I was jus’ tryin’ ta stop him, wound him all for-life-like, put on a show, and I got blood in my eyes for just a second and, well, I got the beatin’ I well up and deserved for bein’ a show-off, durin’ the fight and durin’ that long-ass slam session.”

Marvus takes a pause. He stops his fidgeting and his eyes cut to the ground. Clowns don’t show shame, but he does it regularly on global television. Even Kravyt, who knew what the questions and answers were ahead of time leans in while the camera does the same on his face.

“But I wanted to make my fans all happy, you know? Shit, they show was gettin’ ruined, and I wanted to give em another to make up for it... That was my b. If I knew he was such a criminal I woulda been more on toppa dat shit, but I ain’t sure it mattered much. Like I said, I’d been performin’ for a long time at that point - like, i-d-k, almost 3 hours?” He pauses though, stage whispering to the woman across from him. “And don’t tell nobody, but I mighta been a lil’ slack on my training. Gotta get that fixed now, don’t I?”

Kravyt nods in understanding, swinging her foot. “Thank you for that, Marvus. I’m sure that was difficult to talk about. Let’s move onto something a little less clinical - how are you feeling?”

Marvus beams for the camera. “Aww, thanks sis. I’m doin’ pretty okay. I should be all healed up sooner than later. Then I can get back to all that good” - and sometimes illegal, you know how it is - “work I’m motherfuckin’ known for.”

He winks through Kravyt and she blushes, but it wasn’t really for her. That one was for the cameras - the rebels he had been helping for the past two sweeps. The clubs he bought out. The performers he had been recruiting. He wasn’t out of the game, and he wanted them to know that.

“And what about the church? How are they feeling about all of this? What about your friends?”

Marvus nods sagely at her question. “Well, my family ain’t to happy. Last I heard they were makin’ their own moves about this. Somethin’ about uppin’ security every-motherfuckin-where, and they hired some kickass to the case? Wild a-f. I ain’t all involved or nothin’ cuz, ya know, I’m a motherfuckin’ loud mouth and alla dat, but they’ve been supportive of me. And as for friends...”

He smiles a little, face as neutral as usual. “Well, they’re goin’ a lil’ SHITHIVE. I get it though. Somethin’ terrible happened to one of their friends, all because of Lanque. He’s gettin’ all sorts of people hurt with these weird motherfuckin’ antics. Who knows who’s gonna be all in the path next? Can’t imagine how hurted his cloister must be - they be their own sorta family, and I kinda feel some kinship about that. I know most trolls ain’t gettin’ what clowns got, but I know, if I up and imagine, it would suck if I fucked up and got a sister of mine hurt, you know?”

And that one was for Lanque.

“How kind of you to empathize with the associates and friends of a criminal. But that almost sounds just as juicy as this -”

“None of that, sis. This is just me havin’ my own fun. I mean, the church got him covered - I get somethin’ of my own, I think. I just wish his family the best.”

“You really have a gilded heart, don’t you?”

“Aww, I don’t know about that…”

“And so humble.” She giggles. “One last question, then.” Kravyt nods and finishes her scrawling. “It’s really good to see that you’re alive and well. Is there anything else you’d like to tell the good people at home?” Marvus turns to the camera to his left and gives another best winning smile. “I’ll be going on a whole new tour in three nights from now to celebrate my good health! Tickets are available now, and locations are listed up on my website. While you’re there, if you’re feelin’ up to it and know anything at all about the location of my attacker, there’s a text form you can submit, only available to people who’re signed up to my Fanclub.”

“It was lovely to have you on tonight,” the smiley four-eyed woman chirps pleasantly, offering her hand. He leans forward with an exaggerated wince, reciprocating the action. She looks at him with her own over-acted pity. “Thank you again, Marvus.

“...aaaand cut it! Start shutting this down. Good job, Marvus. We’ll get these all edited up and it should be going up as soon as it’s done. A day or so. You were wonderful as usual - only took three takes to get all the footage we need.”

Marvus stands and stretches, clapping his hands together once. “Glad we could do this, f-r. Hey, don’t be a stranger, sis - maybe we’ll get to talk without me actin’ like I ain’t ever been stabbed before, lmaooo.”

She shrugs. “I suppose it might be good for ratings - people really are obsessed with you. Who knew that a person could capitalize on their powers like this? Like, shit, I don’t get it, but clearly huffing your voodoo-vibes or whatever is better than coke.”

#Word Count | 1861 #xxxtras! | unstreamed actions #drug ment //#injuries //#ask to tag //

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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To New Hytes (Group fic) 2/? - Mac

AN: Again, this entire work would not be possible without my lovely betas Meggie and Grapefruit. You girls keep me young!

Summary: Blair and Kameron find themselves bonding over their respective passions, Brooke loses her cool at Vanessa, and Nina and Monet think they all should just make out.

Blair sat back and admired her work.

Vanjie - or as the young dancer has insisted - Vanessa, looked like a vision in gold. Blair patted herself on the back mentally for the fringe that hung off of her small frame ever so delicately.

“Now I know she said you ain’t performin’ for a few weeks, but thought I’d get your measurements and stuff done heada time.”

Vanessa gave her a winning smile.

“I don’t mind pretty girls like you takin’ my measurements.”

Blair blushed and ducked her head a bit. The young costume designer wasn’t used to getting compliments often, so she tried to ignore how her brain short circuited at the statement.

“What about shoes? You good in a heel?” She tried to change the subject.

Vanessa nodded. “Nothin’ too tall though. Can’t be breaking myself out there.”

Blair laughed lightly and turned to the closet on the far wall. She rifled through a few boxes before coming back with a sensible heel.

“I’m a size six.”

“I know.”

“Who told you?”

“Nobody. I just got a gift for knowin’ people’s sizes I guess.”

“Pretty and smart, huh?”

Blair blushed again. “A dancer and a flirt, huh?” she shot back.

Vanessa laughed, loud and unhinged. It took Blair aback for a moment before she let herself laugh too. It felt freeing in a way.

“Not to rain on your parade or nuthin’, and I appreciate the compliments, but I don’t date dancers.”

“Oh yeah? Too many broken hearts?”

Blair nodded firmly and Vanessa didn’t press the issue.

“Oh well.” Vanessa sighed overdramatically. “Guess I can settle for friends.”

Blair smiled. “Friends it is.”

…

Kameron never imagined she’d end up here.

Maybe she was torturing herself. Being so close to the thing she loved. The thing she still craved like a drug.

It didn’t happen suddenly either. She had been with the company since the beginning. When it was just a thought Brooke tossed out one drunken night.

Brooke, Nina, and Monet had gone over to Kameron’s place with the thought of going out and letting loose, but had ended up on her worn down furniture passing a bottle of wine around in a circle. Nina has been too focused on Monet’s antics to really hear the idea, but Kameron jumped up as soon as she heard it, albeit she jumped up gracelessly and almost fell back on her ass.

She smiled at the memory now. She doubted anyone knew that she was one of the original co-founders of the now acclaimed company. Not that she cared much for the recognition.

She had spearheaded the whole process, looking into spaces to rehearse and business laws. It was a lot of work and long nights. Brooke had been right there with her through it all though. It had been nice to have a friend, a sister almost, supporting her and putting in just as much work.

Nina and Monet had thought they were crazy. Off and running with this idea that was never going to pan out.

They were all fresh out of out of NYU after all. They were baby adults, living off of ramen noodles and Red Bull, but still…No one expected them to make it.

That was when Kameron had the idea. A YouTube channel. They could rent a dance space for a few hours and bang out three to four videos. She and Brooke performed duets and solos, any style they wanted. They had fun. Kameron sometimes would miss those days before their lives got so hectic. When she and Brooke would pass out on a studio floor because they had filmed in one night enough videos to last them a week.

The channel grew slowly, and then not so slowly. Almost overnight they had amassed enough followers and garnered enough views to buy their own studio. It was teeny tiny and run down. It needed a lot of TLC for sure, but it was theirs.

Almost overnight the dance world was looking to them for the next big thing. It was incredibly intimidating, scary even, but Brooke and Kameron were ready.

Nina agreed to stage mom duties as well as marketing, and Monet enthusiastically accepted the offer to take pictures, dusting off her old camera.

It was all starting to come together.

Then it all went wrong.

Kameron quickly pulled herself out of those thoughts. The memory of a too bright stage light still burned her eyes.

“Are you ok?” came a small voice to Kameron’s left.

Kameron had been so lost in thought that she hardly realized she had been sitting on the floor for nearly ten minutes now, back leaning against a large speaker.

Kameron sat up immediately and looked at Blair. The sweet girl was looking at her, concern creeping into the reassuring smile she gave.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well, your nose is bleeding a bit there.”

Kameron’s hand shot up to touch lightly at her aforementioned affliction. When she pulled her hand away, bright red coated her fingers.

“Come here, darlin’, come sit with me.”

Kameron bit back her reply that this happened all the time, curiosity getting the better of her.

Blair took Kameron’s hand and the older girl surprisingly didn’t jump at the contact.

Blair weaved through the backstage area like she had done it a million times before. Kameron supposed she had. The costume designer rarely made it out on stage, except during rehearsals to solve a fashion emergency, so moving around in the shadows must have been a frequent pastime of hers.

Blair opened the door to her small office space off near the side exit of the theatre. It was cluttered with half-finished garments on every surface and sketches that lined the walls. The mannequins looked passively at the two as they made their way to the stools near the back of rows of costumes.

Blair tilted Kameron’s face up with the pads of her fingers that left sparks in their wake. Kameron looked up at her as the young woman searched for tissues in the crowded workspace.

Kameron let her eyes wander around the office until they fell on a nearly finished sketch hanging out of a notebook on the desk.

“What’s that one? It doesn’t look like any of the girls we have on tour.”

“Oh that’s nothin’.” Blair quickly shoved the paper back in the notebook, but winced at the crinkling sound it made.

She came to stand in front of Kameron, eyes trained on the red liquid still fresh around her nose. Blair dabbed at it hesitantly, almost as if she were scared to hurt Kameron. Kameron’s heart surged at the thought.

Blair studied the area closely, but avoided eye contact. She resolutely kept her eyes trained on the afflicted area, and no higher. It made the tension in the room raise noticeably.

When Blair was satisfied with her work, she sat down in the stool across Kameron, their knees would be touching if Blair hadn’t pulled hers closer to her body, almost unconsciously.

“All better.”

Kameron smiled at her and Blair smiled back. It was a rare moment of silence. Of peace.

They both started laughing at the same time. Breaking the silence and the ice between the senior stage crew member and the costume designer. They must have looked crazy. Sitting and laughing at each other like old friends.

They hardly knew each other, really. If you didn’t count passing greetings in the hallway they were perfect strangers. Still, Kameron hadn’t laughed this hard in a while. It was refreshing and terrifying that this person, this stranger, could bring a part of her she thought she’d lost, to the forefront.

Kameron stuck out her hand. “I’m Kameron, but everyone calls me Kam.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Kameron. I’m Blair.”

“Oh, I know who you are. I’ve seen you around before. Never said ‘hi’ or anything ‘cause most people treat us crew members like we got the plague.”

Blair suddenly looked seriously at her. “I’m sorry for that. Y’all are the reason the whole show is possible, I imagine it’s frustratin’ not havin’ your hard work appreciated.”

“You’re one to talk! The costumes you make, you make from scratch, yeah? All of them original and come from your head. That is a talent that goes underrecognized, I bet.”

Blair blushed and looked down, avoiding eye contact. “Well, yeah, I suppose. But I’m not in it for the recognition. I just love designin’, ya know?” Blair looked up, meeting Kameron’s eye finally. “You ever had that thing you love more than anythin’ else in the world, and nothin’ could ever take you from it. Like even if you tried you couldn’t give it up?”

Kameron nodded. She did have something like that once.

“Show me your favorite design then. Something you wouldn’t give up for anything in the world.”

“Oh, I don’t have a-”

“Don’t give me that. I know you’ve got one. C’mon, I’m sure it’s just as phenomenal as all the other ones, if not more so.” Kameron winked.

Blair blushed and looked away again. Kameron thought she looked even more beautiful with color high on her cheeks.

Blair stood up and turned back to the notebook Kameron had eyed earlier. She opened it up and Kameron saw every page covered in different outfits on the same model. The model girl looked nothing like any of the dancers they had in the company.

As if sensing her question, Blair quickly rambled out, “She isn’t supposed to be anybody in particular! Just a model for the outfits. I don’t know why she keeps popping up in my head, but when she does, I sketch out a costume for her and send her on her way.”

Kameron looked up at her with a goofy smile.

“I’m not crazy! I know I sound it sometimes,” Blair defended herself.

Kameron laughed. “You don’t sound crazy at all. But you are lying to me.”

Blair looked taken aback for a moment before Kameron explained. “She is somebody in particular. Who is she?”

Blair sighed. “You’re good at that, ya know? Readin’ people.”

“I know,” Kameron answered confidently.

Blair laughed but it was with less joy than before. “Her name was Brianna. We dated for almost three years. She danced and I did her costumes.” Kameron nodded along, encouraging Blair to keep going, if she wanted. “We worked well together, ya know? One of those couples that just worked.” Blair took in a breath. “And when it stopped workin’, we just didn’t mention it. We pushed on for the sake of her career, and mine too, but mostly hers.”

“Wait, Brianna Palandrani?”

Blair groaned. “Yup. That’s the one.”

“She married that Giovanni guy right? The heir to that million dollar makeup company?”

“They got married a week after we broke up.”

“You’re kidding! Oh my god Blair, I’m so sorry.”

Blair shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s really not. That’s horrible.”

“Her career was important to her, I always supported that, but then it became more important than me and my feelins.”

“I’m so sorry, Blair. You deserve better.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

Blair swallowed heavily, the tension was suddenly back, but it felt a bit different this time. “What’s done is done. But I made a promise to myself that day: no more dancers.”

Kameron’s heart sank a bit at that. “So you decided to surround yourself with them every day of your life? Seems a bit counterintuitive.”

“I’m puttin’ my career first. For the first time, I’m being selfish and focusin’ on me. Gettin’ my designs and name out there.”

Kameron smiled wide. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Kameron.”

“You can call me Kam, you know, everyone else does.”

“I like Kameron. It suits you.”

It was Kameron’s turn to blush.

Their little bubble of peace was suddenly broken by a disheveled Yvie slamming the door open, looking around the room wildly.

“Kam. We may need you onstage.”

Kameron looked at her quizzically, but followed after the contortionist. She shot one last apologetic look at Blair before the door shut silently behind her.

…

Never in her life had Brooke yelled at someone like this. Let alone one of her dancers.

“You can’t speak to me like that, I’m your boss!”

“You sure don’t fuckin’ act like it. Gettin all mad and shit from a little comment. Not very professional of you, mami.”

Vanjie was calm, collected, and cocky, which made Brooke lose it even more.

“What the hell would you know about acting professional?”

“Clearly a bit more than you, since I’m not currently screaming at one of my employees.”

Brooke was seeing red. She wanted to scream some more, wanted to put the fear of god into Vanjie. Wanted to wipe that smug fucking smile off her face for good. And suddenly it hit her like a ton of bricks.

It took all her willpower not to smirk triumphantly. She breathed in and out and suddenly, Brooke was composed, calm, yet predatory.

“I’m sorry, Mateo. That was out of line.”

Vanjie’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. Everyone’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. Was Brooke Lynn Hytes, the Head Bitch herself apologizing? To Vanjie of all people?

Vanjie didn’t have a response. Didn’t have any words.

Brooke let herself smirk at that reaction. She wasn’t going to give Vanjie the fight she was aiming for. She was going to give her the opposite. Two can play at Vanjie’s game. And Brooke hated losing.

Brooke turned her head to her other dancers and raised her eyebrows expectantly. “The show must go on, ladies. Up and at ‘em. Let’s go.”

The dancers quickly made their way up the stage, shock still clear on their faces, but the boss was still the boss, apology or not.

Brooke surveyed them for a few minutes before she decided to cool down in her office. She made her way up the stairs but paused when she reached the office door.

She heard muffled voices through the wood.

…

Nina sat in her and Brooke’s shared office. Brooke liked to think of it as her own office, but as Nina did all the heavy lifting, she considered it a shared office.

Monet was sitting in the armchair across from the desk looking through photo after photo from the camera around her neck. Nina watched her. She found herself watching the younger girl a lot these days. Call it mere exposure effect, call it fate, call it the lack of girlfriend, Nina didn’t care. She liked looking at Monet. Liked how the younger girl carried herself. Liked that she put others first.

“Any salvageable ones?”

Monet smiled, still looking down at her camera. “Hmmm, I dunno. You tell me.” She hopped up from her seat and came around the desk to stand next to Nina. She pulled out her memory card and some device Nina still couldn’t figure out, although she was sure Monet had explained it to her many times over. Monet plugged the device into the computer and they waited in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before the pictures popped up.

Nina clicked on the first few. They were of Violet, of course. Monet had admitted once that Violet was her favorite to take pictures of. “She gives so many good angles, and there’s not a flaw to be seen on that bitch.” Nina had rolled her eyes.

Monet pulled up a chair and the two sat side by side scrolling through pictures. Most of them were incredible, as always, a few were silly candids. The one that caught Nina’s eye though was a picture of herself.

It was of her backstage, with the stage lights in front of her. It was clearly edited with a black and white filter over it, but it didn’t look staged. It looked organic. It captured Nina in her favorite spot, just offstage. Supporting her friends and their passion. It looked like some artsy film project from college. She looked majestic. Nina paused on it for a minute.

Monet looked at her worriedly. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s beautiful.” Nina meant it.

Monet shrugged. “I had a lot of beauty to work with.”

Nina could have snapped. Could have acted on the growing attraction they both had been feeling for the past few months. Could have just leaned over right then and kissed Monet senseless.

She didn’t.

Monet broke the suddenly thick tension with a cough. “There’s more.” She reached across and clicked to the next picture. It was another picture of Nina, this time, her face was visible and she was looking off - probably at one of the dancers - she looked so incredibly happy. Monet blushed and clicked through what must have been at least twenty more photos before finally coming to one that wasn’t of Nina.

This one was of Brooke standing with her arms crossed looking up at an equally cocky looking Vanessa.

“I think you captured their dynamic perfectly.”

Monet laughed again, effectively breaking up the tension a little more. “Honestly, I’m waiting for one of them to snap and just start sucking face one day.”

“Me too!”

“No way, you were getting that vibe too! God, I swear they just need to fuck some of that anger out of each other, maybe it would make Brooke less uptight.”

“Hey!” Nina said defensively.

“Oh bitch, we all friends, don’t pretend she hasn’t been a stick in the mud since she became the boss.”

“She’s just stressed,” Nina insisted, less forcefully this time as the smile started to eat away at her face.

“Know how she could get some of that stress out?”

Nina laughed and it echoed around the room.

…

Brooke’s mouth hung open so long she was surely going to swallow a bug.

Did her friends really think she was into Vanjie? Sure the girl was hotter than hell. Sure she met every one of Brooke’s comebacks with an equally snarky one. Sure she had wormed her way into Brooke’s mind from day one. Sure Brooke thought about her all the time.

DidBrooke like Vanjie?

“Fuck.” Brooke was pulled out of her thoughts by the door to her office being swung directly into her face.

“Oops! Sorry, B!” Monet apologized immediately, then she paused. “Wait, how long have you been standing there?”

“Since you two started flirting, so, the whole time.”

Monet blushed but pushed past Brooke and headed for the stairs she had just come up. “Well, you know what they say about eavesdroppers,” she spoke over her shoulder.

“What do they say?” Brooke called after her.

“They only ever hear the truth.”

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