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lucinations · 4 years

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you – Vivianne Miedema x Reader

prompt: You know maybe a fluff angst imagine ? (Viv ofc)

a/n: okay this is sort of angsty? idk I’m rubbish at angst but here ya’ll go this took forever to write there are SO MANY EMOTIONS

“Come on girls, my grandmother can run faster than that,” joked our coach, Joe, as I ran to intercept a ball for what felt like the 50th time.

“That’s some fit grandma,” I grumbled under my breath, passing it to Daan, and there was a breathless chuckle to my left.

“Bloody hate running,” Viv grumbled, and I nodded. There was a sharp whistle sound and the players stopped running.

“Alright girls, blue team wins. See you all tomorrow, bright and early for game day,” Joe called, and we stopped running, slowly making our way over to the bench for a drink.

“You alright?” Viv asked me as I panted, reaching for my kitbag.

“Give me a sec,” I said, reaching into the side pocket, pulling out my inhaler and giving it a shake. I took a deep puff, holding my breath.

“That bad huh?” Viv asked, and I nodded, smiling as much as I could with my mouth closed.

Slowly, after a sec I let out my breath.

“You’ve done that a lot lately,” Viv said, raising an eyebrow, “You sure you’re alright?”

“Fine,” I said, dropping the inhaler back into my bag and ignoring her worried glance, “Stop worrying, mum,”

She gave me an unimpressed look. “Excuse me for caring about you,”

I smiled slightly at that, feeling my stomach make a few giddying flips.

“Wow? Is that genuine affection in your voice?” I asked sarcastically, “Didn’t know you were capable of that,”

There was laughter from the other girls, and Viv shook her head, leaning over the kitbag to punch me on the shoulder.

As the rest of the group filed towards the changing room and I followed suit, she sidled up to me.

“I was going to ask,” she said, falling into step next to me, “Did you want to come over this weekend? Lisa’s going up to Scotland to visit her parents, and I want someone to yell at the TV with when football is on,”

I had to fight the urge to smile as my heart thumped in my chest.

“Er. . .I was actually headed into London for a shop and dinner on Saturday,”

“Oh. . .dinner? You got a hot date or something?” she joked, and I smiled.

“Nah, just by myself,” I said, and she raised her eyebrows.

“You go to dinner by yourself?” she asked me, and I nodded.

“Sure,” I said, shrugging, “Not always someone available when I want fish and chips,”

“Look no further,” she said, “You mind if I tag along?” she asked, and I raised my eyebrows, surprised as we went into the changing room.

“I mean. . . sure, yeah,” I said, smiling.

“I’ll pick you up? We both know you can’t drive in London to save your life,” she said with a laugh, and I frowned as I stuffed the remainder of my clothes into my kitbag.

“Sounds good,” I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice, “Malin? Let’s go? See you later, guys,”

There was a chorus of ‘Byes’ as I stepped out of the changing room, bag slung over my shoulder and a smile spread over my face, followed by Malin. Since we lived so close to each other, we tended to carpool to trainings and games. My heart felt like it had grown wings that were violently fluttering in my chest, and the more I thought about the fact I’d be spending the majority of my weekend with Viv, the more my stomach did giddy flips.

“Be careful,” Malin said from next to me.

“Hm?” I asked, pulled out of my daydream.

“With Viv, I mean,” she said, as we stepped out of the compound and walked towards the car park.

“What do you mean?” I asked with a frown, fishing around for my keys.

“She’s already got someone, Y/N” she said, “Don’t let yourself fall into that trap,”

“What are you talking about?” I asked with a chuckle, unlocking the car and opening the driver’s side door while Malin went around to sit in the passenger’s seat.

“I see the way you look at her, Y/N. I might be new to this team, but I’m not blind. How long have you been in love with her?”

since I met her for the first time last year. 1 year, 20 days, 7 hours and 30 minutes.

“In love?” I asked incredulously, starting the car, “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not,” Malin said seriously, “You talk about her all the time, and the smile you get on your face when she talks to you Y/N. . .”

She gave me a pitiful look, and I could feel the dread filling me up like a rising tide as we drove.

I let out a sigh. “Is it that obvious?”

“No,” Malin admitted, “But I’ve come to know you pretty well, and I’m pretty observant. So, how long?”

“Long enough,” I said with another sigh, “I’m pretty sick of it if I’m honest,”

“I can imagine,” Malin said, “You’re only hurting yourself though, you know, by hanging around her,”

“Can’t exactly avoid her,” I said, and Malin raised her eyebrows.

“Maybe not, but I don’t think spending your weekend with her is a good idea,” she said, and I bit my lip. I knew she was right.

The truth was, I couldn’t stay away from Viv. I liked her so much it hurt, and watching her love someone else was equally painful, but so far I had consoled myself with the time spent as her friend.

“I’ll be okay. I just have to wait it out, it’ll pass,” I said, and Malin sighed.

“I hope, for your sake, that you’re right,”

* * * * * *

I hated being wrong.

2 years, 120 days, 14 hours and 20 minutes

“Y/N?” Viv’s voice snapped me out of my daydream, “Are you even listening to me?”

“Hm?” I asked, and she smiled as our eyes met.

“Who are you daydreaming about? You’re like a lovesick puppy lately,” she asked me.

You, my brain said.

“No one,” I replied, as the sounds of the restaurant returned to me. We had gone out for dinner with Malin and Lisa, and the four of us were sitting in our favorite sushi restaurant in SoHo.

Liar, my brain snorted.

“Fine fine, if you won’t tell me I’ll just have to find out on my own,” she said cheekily.

I love you, my brain screamed.

“Please don’t,” I told her semi-seriously, reaching for another piece of sushi.

“We actually invited you both to dinner to tell you something. . .” Lisa said, and Viv smiled so broadly it basically covered half her face.

“What?” I said with a chuckle, and when I looked up from my plate of sushi, Viv was holding out her hand across the table.

There, barely a meter from my face, sitting, glittering on Viv’s finger as if it was taunting me, was an engagement ring.

“Oh my god!” Malin said with an incredulous laugh, as Lisa laughed at the shocked expression on her face, “Congratulations guys,”

I could feel Viv’s eyes on my face, and I looked up to meet her eye. She looked expectant, eyes sparkling with excitement and happiness. Malin glanced over at me worriedly.

It felt like somebody had punched me in the face as my breath left me.

“Y/N! Say something!” Viv said with an anxious chuckle, and I had to shake myself out of my shock.

“Gosh. . .” I said, breathlessly, “Wow. . .guys, congratulations!” I managed to bring out, and Viv smiled brightly, chuckling.

“You froze there for second,” she said, and I gave her a watery smile.

“Yeah,” I said, with a weak chuckle.

“I was going to ask you to be my best man. . .well, best woman,” Viv said, and the fist that was closing around my heart tightened.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Malin’s hand squeezed mine under the table.

“I. . .yeah, gosh. . .of course!” I brought out, and my voice was trembling, making Viv frown lightly.

“So when are you planning it for?” Malin asked Lisa, and their conversation fell away as my vision tunnelled. Viv leaned over the table with concern in her eyes.

“Hey, you alright?” she asked, and I nodded. I could feel the tears filling my eyes as I avoided Viv’s gaze.

I desperately tried to control my breath and my facial expressions as my emotions threatened to burst out of me.

“Yeah. . .just hot in here, isn’t it. . .just a sec–”

The sound of my chair grating backwards interrupted my stuttering, and I stood up.

I didn’t even glance back as I headed straight for the bathroom, my heart thumping in my chest and the blood rushing deafeningly in my ears.

I barely made it to the stall and locked the door before the tears spilled from my eyes and my body started to shake with sobs. It felt like every neuron in my body had been set on fire, as white-hot tendrils of pain coursed from my chest, my heart, to the rest of my body. I put a hand on my heaving chest as I started to sob, tears rolling down my cheeks.

She’s engaged.

The words thumped through my brain, like a siren at full volume in my head.

A knock at the stall door made me jump, as I struggled to bring in breaths.

“Y/N?” came Malin’s distinct accent, and I unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal me sitting on the upturned toilet seat, face red and puffy and wet with tears.

She pulled me up and crushed me into a hug, and a renewed bout of tears steamed down my face.

“I can’t watch her marry someone else, Mal, I just can’t,” I said in between sobs.

“Then don’t,” Malin said quietly, holding me tight.

When we pulled away, I nodded, taking a deep breath and wiping the tears off my face.

“You’re right,”

* * * * *

“Do you think I should wear a suit? I mean, we could both wear a dress but I’m not sure I want the whole hassle of wearing one. . . .what do you think?”

I was sat at Viv and Lisa’s dinner table, staring down at the wedding catalogue open in front of me on the table. I wasn’t looking at it really, and I had tuned out Viv’s question.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N? Are you even listening to me?” Viv’s voice shook me out of my daze, and I looked up at her, eyes focusing on her. She was standing on the opposite side of the islands, hands on her hips and giving me a chastising look. She was wearing her favorite pair of grey sweatpants and plain white t-shirt. Her hair was up in her usual bun, the one I loved so much on her.

It physically hurt to look at her.

“Hm? A dress? Not very you, is it?” I said, and she frowned.

“Yeah. . .What’s wrong? You’ve been off since the restaurant two weeks ago,” she asked, “You’ve been failing me in your best woman duties,” she joked.

Tell her.

“I’m alright Viv,” I assured her, and she raised an eyebrow at me.

“You’re still my best friend Y/N, I know when you’re fibbing,” she replied, “Are you okay?”

No.

“No,” I said with a sigh, closing the magazine in front of me. The smiling bride on the cover taunted me.

“Okay. . . Want to tell what’s going on?” she asked, taking a few steps towards me and sitting down on the barstool to my left, so she was facing me.

“I–“

My throat felt like it was closing up. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t tell her.

You have to.

“Hey,” she said softly, seeing the anxiety in my face and putting a hand on my knee, “Whatever it is, Y/N, you can tell me,”

The sudden contact startled me, and I stood up from the chair, putting some distance between me and her.

“I can’t come to your wedding,” I said hastily, going to stand on the opposite sideof the kitchen island and Viv frowned.

“What?” she asked, stunned, “Why not? Are you busy that day?”

“No–”

“ ‘Cause we could always find a way to–”

“I can’t come to your wedding because I’m in love with you,”

The words were out of my mouth before I could even stop them. It felt like they had been sitting at the back of my throat for a long time, waiting impatiently for the moment they could tumble out. I could feel my heart thumping threefold in my chest, could hear the blood roaring in my ears and the anticipation running through my veins.

The expression on Viv’s face was the equivalent of someone that had just been punched in the face.

“I– What? ” she asked, and the shock in her voice wasn’t hard to miss.

I looked straight at her.

“I have been in love with you for the past 2 years and–”, I steeled myself with another breath. “–I can’t watch you marry someone else, Vivianne, I just can’t,”

When Viv said nothing, I went on.

“It would break me, into a million pieces, and–” I said, my voice catching in my throat as tears welled up in my eyes, “–and I don’t think–. . . I don’t think anybody could put me back together again,”

The silence that followed was deafening. We looked at each other, her blue eyes staring into mine.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, hoarsely.

“I couldn’t,” I said sadly, “You were with someone and we both know neither of us are that kind of person,”

“You didn’t even give us a chance,” she said quietly. Her eyes were swimming with tears. “You didn’t even think about the possibility that we could be–”

“Be what?” I asked her, shaking my head, “Lisa makes you so happy, Viv, I see it every day. You are my best friend, and your happiness was so important to me,”

“And what about yours?” Viv said, standing up, “We could’ve been happy, could’ve been something–. . .but you didn’t even try, you. . . you gave up before it even started,”

I gave her a sad smile. “It’s okay, Viv–”

“No, it isn’t!” she shouted, taking several steps forward, and I was startled by the pain in her voice, “You are so important to me, don’t you understand that? I love you, for god’s sake and I–, I can’t lose you,”

Another silence. Her words sunk in, and several tears fell down my face.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, “I really am, but I can’t do this. I can’t be around you right now,”

She sniffed, wiping tears from her face. “I understand,”

Then, in two strides, she was standing in front of me, and she pulled me into a hug. She had done it so many times before, but the emotion in this one made my heart clench. I drank her in, her smell, he warmth, the way her arms felt wrapped around me, holding me. When we pulled away from each other, one of her hands grabbed mine, and we stood facing each other. Her face was inches from mine, breath fanning my face.

“Viv. . .” I said, a she leaned forward.

“Shush,” she said, before her lips met mine.

She kissed me and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be, her hand resting below my ear, thumb caressing my cheek.

When she pulled away, it felt like taking a breath of fresh air. I took a step back, my lips still tingling and the salty taste of tears lingering.

“I really hope you’re happy Viv,” I said sadly, and she smiled through a renewed bout of tears, “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

She nodded, and with a a last smile, I turned away from her and strode out of the kitchen, away from her, away from my anguish and my feelings and ready to start over.

#vivianne miedema #vivianne miedema imagine #woso imagines

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

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Preview: Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Nine

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“Because you just think I’m trying to compete against you.” I say sharply to Tansy.

“No, in order for you to ‘compete’, you’d have to do what I do, as good as I do it, and you didn’t.”

“Oh, I think I did or else you wouldn’t be as upset over it as you are." I hiss back.

"Seriously, can you not get into this right now?" Axl asks us, the guys awkwardly keeping their mouths shut, and me and Tansy ignore him.

"No, Vivian, you're not competing with me, because there's no competition, because this is what I've been doing for a living the past six years. I'm sorry if you regret starting a life with Nikki because you never got to finish school and have your own identity and your own thing going for you--"

"--You think I regret starting my own life?" I ask her in disbelief.

"I think you regret not going to school and being a dancer like you'd planned, because all of us are living the dream we've had since we were kids, except for you, so you feel left behind." She clarifies.

"Who the hell said I'm left behind? I'm still with you guys, I'm still here." I argue.

"Yeah, as 'Nikki Sixx's wife' and 'Tansy Lyn's Friend', and that's why you posed because at least your actual name--you as an individual--would finally be on a fucking magazine, the only problem is you don't think it was worth it, now."

"Girls--" I put my hand up, causing Slash to stop before he starts, and he shakes his head and lets out a breath.

"--Are you sure I'm the one that thinks being plastered naked in a magazine isn't worth it? Who's the one so strung out she's completely projecting her bullshit on to her friend and belittling her to make herself feel like she's won?"

"Won what?! What's the fucking prize, Vivian?!"

"I'm outta here." Slash mumbles, not wanting to be around the bullshit drama, as I yell back:

"Attention, Tansy! Everybody knows the thing that drives you is attention and how other people view you! You're so jealous at the fact that, for onc, guys aren't focused on sweet, little, travel-sized-bed-bunny, Tansy, that you don't know how to fucking handle it! And modeling with your pussy and tits out isn't worth it to you anymore because, yes you've got money and fame and attention, but you are still so fucking unhappy! You're angry and envious because I'm content with the fact I'm naked in a magazine, and you're so sick with yourself for doing the same thing!"

"Viv, c'mon, now." Duff says lowly as he nudges me to cut it out, but I can't. I'm too pissed.

"God, Vivian, you are so fucking privileged!" She starts laughing, tears in her eyes and I raise my brows. "I winded up modeling for these nude magazines because me and mama needed the fucking money! I never got my license because we couldn't afford a car for me so what the hell was the point?! Any 'spending' money was put towards pageants and cheer, and when I got the offer I took it and ran with it because I was tired of being fucking broke!" She yells and I roll my jaw. "You, however, did it just because you wanted to! And I know they gave you a lot of money for it and you're scared of Nikki not leaving you enough money to take care of yourself when you guys divorce--and I'm sorry for you, that sucks--but, Vivian, you didn't sign a prenup so half of his shit is going to you, anyway, and being that he's casually had checks of $600,000 chilling in his mailbox before, you're gonna be pretty fucking set for a while without having the extra $40,000! You are so fucking spoiled and you don't even realiz--"

"--I'm sorry, I'm what?!" I scream, taking a step closer to her, causing Axl to get a little closer as well.

"Viv, seriously, please just leave it alone." Duff begs me and I disregard it as Tansy goes on.

"You literally went from your dad buying you everything you fucking wanted, to Nikki buying you everything you fucking wanted, and you've never had to lift a finger to get any of it! All you had to do was ask your dad for whatever, and now all you've gotta do is give Nikki a blowjob and the world is yours!"

"I don't recall asking my dad or Nikki for a fucking scholarship to Juilliard! I don't recall asking neither of them to fill in for me, dancing for eight fucking hours a day--on my fucking toes--for years, or study for me in all my classes so I could have a high GPA to get into a good school! I might not have a 'thing' right now, but I do know what hard work is and if you want to compare dancing and modeling, we sure as hell can because I assure you, Tansy, you're not where you are because you worked your ass off, you're where you are because you fucked all the right people and got to the top!"

"And so did you!" She exclaims, and Duff and Axl are pulling me off of her a few seconds after my nails are going for her throat.

"Fuck off!" Axl screams at me, getting us separated, standing in front of her to guard her as Duff's got my back against him, his long arms having a steel grip around me in case I try to go again.

Tansy's only got a small, surface scratch over her neck.

"I might have my issues, Vivian, but anytime any of us act batshit crazy and just attack people it's because we're tripping on something and don't know what we're doing! You're so fucked up all on your own without needing anything to bring it out of you!" She yells.

"I didn't start losing my temper and being 'crazy' until you and Nikki and Tommy and Vince decided to become raging drug addicts and alcoholics and then act like it's still all fun and games when two of you OD at least twice a fucking year!" I shriek back. "And I don't feel left behind, yet, but I will when you junkies finally shoot your last fucking cc, and I'm left to plan fucking funerals!"

Her face falls at my words, realizing why I'm such a fucking wreck all the time.

"I don't look at you and think 'model' and I don't look at the guys and think 'Mötley Crüe' because I just see fucked up morons who need help but refuse to fucking accept it, so congratulations, Tansy, at least you found your 'thing', I mean really, I'm so envious that I'm not a sloppy heroin addict, alcoholic, crackhead. You really do win." I finish, getting out of Duff's grasp, leaving and slamming the door behind me.

"The fuck is your problem, Vivian?!" Axl barks, following after me and I ignore him, causing him to grab at my arm roughly, stopping me, and I whip around to face him, seeing Duff coming to us.

"Leave me the fuck alone, Axl!" I warn him.

"Or what?!You gonna hit me?! I wish to fuck you would, you crazy bitch, I'll have you laid out right here!" He cuts back.

"Axl, man, leave her alone." Duff tells him, trying to be calm while he pulls him away from me but Axl sharply snatches away from him.

I see Fred coming towards us from the corner of my eye, Slash and Doc following behind him.

Getting the timing perfect, the palm of my hand is smacking as hard as it can against Axl's cheek, and we're being pulled apart before he can hit me back, which I know he's planning on doing.

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug

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bijoulilou · 5 years

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After TWK part iii

It was surprisingly cool that evening, Jude observes, stepping out of Vivi's apartment. Tom waits patiently as she goes back inside to get a sweater. She reached to grab a slouchy sweater that was abandoned behind her bedroom door but Vivi stops her.

"You're not thinking of wearing that with your dress are you?" Vivi rummages through her clothes, then tosses her sister a denim jacket. It even smelled clean to Jude's surprise.

"I didn't think it was your style." Jude remarked. It didn't seem like Heather's either.

"Its not." Vivi didn't offer an explanation and Jude was in too much of a hurry to ask for one. She tossed her a pair of strappy sandals sandals but Jude declined. She tucked in the laces of her jet black boots to which Vivi nodded appreciatively.

"I'm almost jealous, i could never wear those. Steel toe and all. Very punk of you."

Jude paused, "is that a complement?" She turned to look at herself in Vivi's mirror. Heather had shown her how to apply liner and mascara to make here eyes look bigger. She even dusted the apples of her cheeks with a little color and added a little tint to her lips. Jude was strangely aware of her appearance and very nervous.

"You look great. Now go out there before he thinks you ditched him. C'mon Oak we have to pretend to do homework." Oak glared out the window, down at Tom. Resenting the day he pulled his prank, he scowled at the mortal instructor.

"Don't wait up, I'll be home in a couple of hours to check your homework. And if i forget Tom will tell me tomorrow!" Jude warned as she stepped over the threshold to join her date. When she left Oak stared up at his sister, Vivi.

"Isn't she married to King Cardan? Why is she spending so much time with him?" He holds his pencil tightly as he tries to start his homework. What was all this nonsense with adverbs anyway?

Viv sighed, the lives of her family members were unnecessarily complicated. "Well she is. But its more of a political agreement."

"Oh," Oak mused," I thought Jude was good at making those."

"What made you change your mind?" Vivi turns to the back of Oak's book and copies the answers for him. Making a mistake or two to make it inconsipicuous.

"Well she's here isn't she? I'm here to learn stuff and she's here because she made a mistake. Jude must not be good being tricksy as I thought."

Vivi laughs and ruffles Oak's hair. She wants him not say that around Jude or she won't let him stay up and watch tv anymore. Oak frowns.

"Then again, I don't think the King is good at being tricksy either. Every time I see him, he seems upset. Especially last Friday at paint night." Vivi freezes and stares at Oak, she asks what he means. Oak rolls his eyes, with all these adults around he figured that someone around here would a clue. "Yeah he was here. He talked to Tom and broke his phone. He asks me questions about us but mostly Jude. Sometimes he gives me gifts. He won't be happy that she wears some of them when she spends time with Mr. C."

Vivi stared out the window, she wondered if he was out there now. "Why didnt you say tell us about these secret meetings before? Did he tell you not to?"

Oak shakes his head, " I didnt think I had to. It wasn't anything important. It's not like he was a stranger." He looks at Vivi, "Can we order pizza?"

...

Tom is fumbling with his fork as Jude smiles up at him. She has a little tomato sauce from slurping her spaghetti. She's having too much fun to notice as Tom decides whether to tell her or reach forward and attempt to be romantic. He blushes at the thought and mumbles it instead. Jude dabs it away with her table cloth. Her dark hair moved to either side of her neck, soft waves that complement her olive skin.

"You look very pretty tonight." Tom confesses as the waitress refills their water glasses.

The waitress excuses herself as Jude meets his gaze, " Am I not as appealing any other night?" She's teasing. Tom's ears turn bright red and Jude can't help but revel in the satisfaction.

"Well I'm not sure, I haven't spent that many nights with you to get a general consensus."

Jude mockingly frowns, "General consensus? How many nights do you plan on spending with me?"

In a move that surprised both of them, Tom leans in, "As many as it takes."

She laughs, "Takes to what?" Her face gets a little closer.

"As many as it takes for you to want to spend more time with me." Without much thought Jude sits closer to Tom for the rest of the night. They discuss books. Some that Tom has never heard of but Jude assures him that they're foreign and hard to translate.

It's around closing time that they realize they've over stayed their welcome and leave to continue their date. Tom leads the way to find dessert, he gives Jude his elbow and she happily takes it. As Tom recites poetry from John Keats, enticing Jude with every word a dark figure closes in on them listening to every word.

The Roach had dreaded every moment of tonight, nothing had gone according to plan. Well in his defense, this plan didn't have the consent of the key part of it, the Queen of Elfame. Jude was supposed to end the night early because it had gotten too cold. A courtesy of little magic breeze that only followed then because Van followed them. The food at the table wasn't supposed to be appetizing because he had glamoured the busboy who took out the trash to go back inside and add too much garlic to their food. He even burned their bread. The waitress spilled their drinks, but since it was only water it didn't bother them. As the mortal man wooed his friend with words of promise and romance, Van shivered in disgust. The King was not going to like any of this.

"How is it going?" A voice calls from the shadows and Van turns to see the Bomb step out them. He shakes his head. "That bad?" She leans against the same tree as him to watch.

"They seem to be having a quaint little date." He sighs and takes a bottle of wine from his coat and gives it a swig. He needed something stronger than this.

"That doesn't sound so bad." She takes the bottle out of his hand and takes a drink. Van gives her a look. "What? You cant expect her to sit at home and cry. That's not the Queen we know." Liliver uses their old codename for her.

"Not cry but plot perhaps. That's what she's good at, plotting."

"How do you know she's not getting back at the King for exiling her by dating a human? You don't know Jude like I do." She juts her chin out as Jude nestles up in a little corner of the cafe. Her date brings her two steaming warm mugs topped with whip cream. Jude's face breaks into unfamiliar warmth. Liliver chokes on the wine.

"That doesn't seem like plotting to me. But I have to agree with you, she isn't idly going to sit by and be shamed by Ol' Silver Lips in front of all of Faerie. He knows that too."

"Oh yes , Ol' Silver Lips is well aware of his former seneschal's habits." A cool voice says behind them.

Van sprays wine everywhere, a couple of humans turn to see but it's too dark to make out what's happening. Van and Liliver look around, knowing that voice too well. Cardan throws an acorn from atop the tree they're leaning up against. Where he got the acorns they don't know. Liliver snickers, not even embarrassed to be overheard. She pulls down her hoodie to reveal her white misty hairy and Van grunts, annoyed.

"Your majesty, isn't it unsafe to be far from the kingdom right now? Surely your absence is a miss at some revelry." Van asks, not an ounce of cordial professional in his voice.

Cardan chuckles and throws another acorn at him. It smarts his ear and he hisses at the bite of it.

"No revelry or orgies. As far as anybody else knows I'm in the strategy room with my new advisors. They both look at him questioningly and he sighs," Its you two. Obviously. Congratulations you've been promoted"

"Does it come with a salary raise?"

"If Jude kisses that mortal it doesn't. Consider a demerit coming your way." He reaches out for his turn with the wine as Van hands it to him with a confused glower. "Oh you'll see."

As Van tries to point out the ways he tried to sabotage Tom and Jude's evening, Cardan counts. He counts the many times Tom and Jude smile at one another, when they laugh, when they bat their eyelashes at one another. Soon the bottle of Wine is gone and Van leaves to get another one from a restaurant.

.....

Jude's cheeks hurt from smiling. Whenever the tips of Tom's mouth turn up, her's just seem to follow. When she doesn't know what to say she just nods or furrows her brow. She found it difficult to behave like a typical mortal should. Maybe it was all that time she in faerie and trying to not be seen and keeping her emotions in check. Tom was the complete opposite of that experience. Every moment was narrated by his expressions, his excitement drawn back with his eyebrows or anxiousness highlighted by the twiddling of his thumbs. In a strange way it was beautiful. She observed him as a child would a newborn, in absolute awe.

Tom talked with his hands, maybe it was the coffee or the fact that he couldn't help it. He tried to describe to her the castles he visited in Europe while he was writing his thesis on William Blake. His hands echoed the open halls of the abandoned fortresses and the decaying moss covered stone that held it together. He tried to bring to life his stagnant memories of the open vastness of wilderness that enveloped around it. He said all this hoping to impress her but instead got swept up in reminisces of it all. Little did he know how acquainted she was castles and dwellings of this kind but instead of solitude she was met with a thriving brilliance the like he's never seen. The kind of normalcy that Jude had lived up until this point was stuff of nightmare and fantasy, the kind of scenery that filled up his books and poetry.

When Tom talked of things that excited him, it merely reminded Jude of the fire she once had. Of the now muted hunger that she once carried in her belly. For a moment she got experience that bit of excitement once again.

Tom looks at the clock and her eyes follow, it's late. He has to teach class in the morning, Jude understands and gets up. Tom asks if he could walk her home, she nods. As they walk their hands and elbows bump against each other. Jude clears her throat at the awkwardness and brings her cold hands together to make them warm. Tom, in unlikely bold move, takes them and runs them against his for friction and warmth. Jude thanks him and doesn't let go of his hand as he walks her home.

At the foot of the steps near her front door, he bids her good night. He looks at her, with a question in his eyes and she reaches up on tiptoes to kiss him.

At that very moment, somewhere in the shadows. Cardan Greenbriar's heart broke.

149 notes · View notes

diveronarpg · 5 years

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Congratulations, JENN! You’ve been accepted for the role of CORIOLANUS. Admin Rosey: We read two beautiful, amazing applications for our beloved Princeling -- but ultimately, Jenn, your plots and your voice for Cyrus were so impactful and vivid. He’s winsome, charming and built for tragedy. You were able to elaborate on the different machenisms that make him what he is wihile leaving room for him to grow into his own person, to carve out a place within Verona that is unique to him and him alone. We’re ready for this particular strain of ruin! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Jenn

Age | 21+

Preferred Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | After getting back into the groove of things, I’d say that I’m most active on weekdays! I try to get in a reply at least a few times a week if I have any and if I’m not particularly busy.

Timezone | GMT+8

How did you find the rp? | I’m already in it!

Current/Past RP Accounts | Everyone’s favourite Uncle Cristian <3

In Character

Character | Cyrus Dante Sloane // Coriolanus

THE PRINCELING darling boy with the wind in your hair

A LIGHT SPILLING IN LIKE A FLOOD OF DIVINITY and the sun in your eyes, don’t you know?

WHO GLADY WAGES WAR ON ALL THOSE WHO WILL DEFY HIM everything you want is just past your fingertips

What drew you to this character? | We’d love to hear what about this character’s bio caught your attention! Make this as long or as short as you desire!

Cyrus, oh my darling boy. I took one look at his newly posted bio and realised I had overlooked him, to my eternal error. What a champ!!

When it comes to Cyrus, my favorite part is dissecting his development from boy to man and as a result, it’s going to be a running theme all throughout my app. There is so much I want to pour into that space but I will try to be concise.

I can’t tell you what I love most about him without first giving Vivianne some credit. His life is fraught with uncertainties but he thrives in spite of it and that, I think, speaks volumes about his character and how much he’s like his mother. He’s resilient, resourceful and privileged but starved of the things he really needs like love and affection. I imagine that Vivianne’s nurturing in the first decade of his life was pivotal and that it carried on as phantom lessons that he would often replay in his mind when he was in Cape Town in lieu of actually having her there. But you see, the thing about the human mind is that memories get distorted each time it’s “replayed” and he’s done it so many times that I think he’s started to warp and mimic the worst and best parts of Vivianne. Sort of like how Volumnia manages to influence Coriolanus in the original, Vivianne does it too to Cyrus but from afar and unknowingly.

Let me compare Cyrus to all that’s precious in this world. He’s all the golden hues of sunlight, ringing laughter in a home, a shining beacon wherever he goes. He was a boy whose skin was made of gold leaf, paper thin and easily bruised but now as a man it’s turned solid. He’s impenetrable save for the small crack over his beating heart and therein lies the problem he’s never been able to solve ( and the part I’m MOST eager to explore ). I love irony that as a boy who had relied on his mother for all that was good in his life, he’s cultivated such a burning resentment toward Vivianne. He wants to make her rue the day she abandoned him and that makes her his one undeniable weak spot. After so many years, she still has that effect on him and quite like his canon counterpart, it makes him sort of emotionally stunted to a degree.

So, I see him like a child daring enough to commit all sorts of sins against his mother in the name of retribution. I see him using her as a shield against Cosimo, against the mob, against himself. I see him pushing her as she will undoubtedly push back. It layers him with the kind of duality I never got to enact with Cristian and Howard that sort of evolved Cristian’s character into something he never thought he’d be. In my mind, that had been Cristian’s turning point and we all know how it ended.

There’s so many things that could keep Cyrus on the same trajectory what with his vendetta against Vivianne and all that she stands for. But there’s also so many other things that could deviate him from it. I want to help pull back all the layers as his story unfolds and I think any player would love to be able to take him on that journey of self discovery.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | Where do you see this character developing, and what kind of actions would you have them take to get there? 3 future plot ideas would be preferable.

THE ULTIMATE GOAL

His ultimate goal is very clear to me. He always gets what he wants and Cyrus wants to upend all of Vivianne’s plans, whatever they may be and by extension, Cosimo’s. His mother’s kingdom must fall all around her knees. For this, I want to see Cyrus get closer to the Capulet’s enemies and possibly join them when he’s poised for success. Whether or not he believes in their cause, it would be a blow to his mother either way, especially a blow she might not expect or be ready for when they call for his head.

As he accomplishes his objectives, I’d like him to also get a taste of how his mother has lived without him all these years. I believe he’ll come to find that it bears some resemblance with his life in South Africa — successful but also disconnected from the people they want to be. So, why did she have to let him go? He could have made her proud if she had let him stay. He’s vicious and cruel when it comes to her just as he thinks she is when it comes to him. And I believe he’s willing to pull out all the stops to achieve this ultimate goal. And to get there, he’ll need some help…

THE COMPANY

Whatever his plans are, he won’t be able to do them alone. I’d love for him to build a relationship with Juliana, it would be interesting if he does. And especially since she’s more of his mother’s child than he is, I want to see how that plays out in terms of Cyrus dealing with meeting her again after all those years abroad. What’s he going to say to her? What’s he going to do to her? Eventually, I want him to find a way to ensure that he has some sort of influence over her and eventually some sway over the course of actions that the Capulets might or might not take. Though, of course things might not always be so simple.

Other than Juliana, I imagine a big key in making headway within the Capulet ranks is through Cassian. The man is astute and an expert strategist and that’s the advantage Cyrus sees in keeping his company, in playing the teacher’s pet. I want to see Cyrus trick Cassian into facilitating his ambition but like all heroes in their tragedies, a foil makes things interesting. Cassian has been playing this game of cat and mouse longer than Cyrus has and is likely a better player in the long con. And while he might get the better of Cyrus in the long run, Cassian isn’t the man who has the ear of a Cape Town kingpin.

THE KINGPIN

“The dealings with the Capulets, with his mother, had grown sour with the war that waged in the place that he had been born and molded. Who else would they send to smooth such inconveniences over than the man who had the whole of South Africa beneath his feet?” There’s a reason why Cyrus is an emissary despite only just returning to Verona. It’s unlikely that Cosimo would put his trust in Vivianne’s son, who is essentially a stranger to him, without seeing any advantage in the arrangement. So, I had this idea. I’d like to position Cyrus as an emissary for the mob in Cape Town, as the go-between them and the Capulets. I imagine it’s likely that Cosimo wants something from them to aid his cause in the war of Verona and Cyrus, because of his convenient relationship to his Underboss, is the best candidate to get the job done. I’m open to almost any sort of plot for this but my main concern for his development here is that he begins to parallel Vivianne’s journey in the underworld more apparently.

THE RIGHT-HAND WOMAN

Their weapon of choice is easy enough to acquire but what makes their smiles and laughter so razor is that when they smile and laugh, it isn’t just a grin and a sound. It’s in their expressions, the way their faces twitch, the way their eyes flood with joy so infectious others want to share in it, bathe in it. Revel in it. They make you gasp for air and before you know it, you’re suffocating and thanking them for it. Theirs is a friendship I have do doubt will wreak all sorts of havoc in Verona. They are the monsters your mother never warned you about because surely the heaven sent will do no harm. In time, I want the devastation that Cyrus and Brigette reign in Verona to generate an irreversible consequence. Thus, making sure they learn that even sunshine can turn into wildfires.

LA MAMMA

Things Cyrus will never tell his mother; things he maybe should have; maybe the time may never come when he does: “When you hung up the phone, the dial tone echoes the goodbye you never said. Instead, the last thing I hear is that “It’s all for your own good,” and “Because I said so.” I missed you for a long time so what good did it do me when I had nothing but your ghost to tell me you never loved me. That you never wanted me. That I was a mistake. Whether you like it or not, you made me who I am. And I have become heartless. Where were you when I was still kind? Am I supposed to be grateful to have survived like this?”

Just. Kill me with Viv plots.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | At first I was gonna say yes but after completing my app I just can’t bear to kill him off. He deserves so much more. He deserves the world. But still… I’m gonna have to say come what may.

In Depth

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!):

How many years did it take to build this place? Cyrus wonders as he walks past the tall, dark arches made of steely wood that seem to have witnessed all that has happened in Verona; seen all its tribulations and turmoil and subsumed its spilled ichor. He’s almost sure that if he looks closely enough, he’d see the city’s bloody history written in its grain. The furnishing of the library is immaculately chosen, fit precisely to house a most noble family and its liege. At first glance, he sees an enormous collection of books lining every wall and alcove. The shelves are full and the spines of the books vary in colours from light to dark. He touches them, fingering the well-used titles before picking out a select few on the different subjects he’s studying. At a second, more considering glance, he sees the culmination of an extraordinary legacy. A legacy built on the very bones of Verona.

And for him to stand within a place like this, being who he is and what he represents, will be the beginning of his legacy.

Cyrus is once again new to the city and while not many know his face, some do. So, he finds an alcove away from the busier side of the floor where he might be afforded a little more privacy as informed by his absent host. He knows little about his host but he does know that he’s a man who has had the misfortune to be plagued with a tragedy — a death of a loved one. The very same event that’s brought Cyrus back home at the behest of Cosimo Capulet.

His wrist watch beeps and it has just struck twelve. Cyrus is early, he knows that. Much earlier than scheduled. So, he makes himself comfortable and opens the books he’s decided to borrow. Some time passes before a voice beckons him out of his reverie.

“Cyrus Sloane… Are you ready to begin?”

What is your favorite place in Verona?

Having grown up traversing and discovering the avenues of Cape Town looking for something to help him make sense of his snowglobe-shaken world, the streets had become a sort of solace to Cyrus Sloane. Often, it served as a distraction from his loneliness but mostly because what he saw had been as foreign as he. Like calls to like, does it not? So, Cyrus is inclined to answer the man with his winning smile “The streets,” knowing full well that it wouldn’t be a typical answer. He spent his childhood running down Verona’s cobblestone roads but now the lanes and alleys have become the foundation of a concrete wilderness to him, and he sees an opportunity to begin a new exploration.

But to say that anything was his favourite is to say that he has some attachment to it to an extent. There was nothing he wanted to like about the city, nowhere that called to him nor told him of any story he hasn’t already heard before. It is like all the travel pamphlets say; Verona is a city of love but to him, love in this city has become synonymous with lies, with deceit and betrayal. The implication racks him with bile but he lifts his light eyes away from focusing too hard on a spot on the mahogany table and instead meets the even darker hues of his interviewer. The man looks mildly perplexed at him.

Cyrus is accustomed to elaborating everything at this point, what with the denizens of this idyllic town’s constant waiting for him to speak more, do more, inspire more. Thus, blithely he provides a supplement to his answer, “What? Haven’t you been? It’s your city too, is it not? You’ll get all you need from it if you know where to look, what to ask and, especially, who to listen to. Particularly for the best gossip—” He stopped there despite having more to say. He can’t help thinking to himself if the man knew his mother. His mother and Everett Craven. The gossips say Everett is one of her finest works for the mob. Cyrus doesn’t remember much of it, but he does remember what it had cost.

With a shrug, Cyrus cuts away the underlying acerbity and replaces it with cool composure, akin to the business-like exterior the other man has on. It’s one of the few times where looking too naive, too untested might serve him ill. If Cyrus had a glass of alcohol right now, he’d surely decide it’s time to down it in one gulp. Fluidly, he wills himself to be an agreeable conversationalist. “But really, you’ll find that my favourite place in Verona is where I can get the best deals. And right now, it’s here with you.”

What does your typical day look like?

A half suppressed laugh almost makes its way past his slightly chapped lips. It’s an odd thought that his days are anything typical. Cyrus pours his winsome nature into his casting glance directed at the books arranged on the table and into the way he lifts one corner of a hardcover as he turns the title to his new acquaintance. “You have a good collection here.” He lets it drop back into its place with a soft thud atop the short pile of art, history and mathematics texts splayed in front of the sharp-suit interviewer.

“Signore, I’m quite certain you already know this by now but I’ll say it for my full vindication if you like.” He sits back with relaxed shoulders and leans into the surprisingly comfortable wooden backrest. “I’m a student here. You can imagine what my typical day looks like.” A small jerk of his head sends the other man’s gaze to the books on the table to further drive his point home. “I wake up. I get to class. I go home. Maybe hit up a club or party at night. I hear The Lamberti Tower is fun when the sun goes down. Maybe I’ll see you there some time. You know, typical student life—well, maybe not so typical considering…”

“Really? And what about Cosimo Capulet? I hear you report to him now. I’m sure someone with your standing will have a direct line to the man. There might be something here for you if you can open that line to me.” There it is. Cyrus’ mouth quirks up in a half smile. And everything in him tells him to lie, lie, lie. Not because he is afraid of any repercussions, but because a good businessman knows when he has the upper hand. And his upper hand lies with not revealing everything he knows.

With an amused sigh Cyrus continues with a cant of his head. “I want to say Tuesdays and Thursdays but you’ll understand when I say: how would I know?” There is little leniency in his voice when he says that. “He calls me in at his whims and whenever he feels like having someone to order around. If you want to get to him… I’ll work something out for you if you really need it to be done.”

Cyrus has an idea of how much his new associate is relying on his accessibility to Cosimo. But he could reach Don Capulet as easily as it was for a child to cross the road alone—if he isn’t careful, he’d be run over. No, the real power lies with the company and he’s determined to keep them for his grand designs. Rosaline. Orsino. Juliet. Edgar. Volumnia. They are the keys to the kingdom. Lucky for him, mother dearest will be there to lend a hand every step of the way. He’ll make sure of it this time.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

The other man’s forwardness emboldens him to let his mask crack a sliver. “This is beginning to feel like a confessional, Lawrence. Has the church gotten its claws in so deep?” The Sacrament of Penance performed for a sinner by an equally unworthy priest, so it seems. At twenty years old, it’s hard to fathom that he’d have a biggest mistake to talk about. The way his assessor asks this… It feels as if his whole life should pivot around the fact of this big mistake.

Then… Is it the fact that he’d been born? It isn’t as if he’s had a choice in that. No, it was his mother’s mistake to fall pregnant. It’s her sin to bear, not mine, he reminds himself.

Then… Is it his return to Verona? The land that bore him, made him and then cast him out as if he’d always been an unwanted stray. No, again it isn’t his mistake to bear.

He knows his own wrongs.

He knows that at twenty years old his one grievance to confess is that he is just as much his mother’s son as he’d never admit. He could be as calculative and as clinical as she is ( and as equally and reluctantly vulnerable ). Right now, it is obvious he’d even inherited her wry wit. The man sitting across him had not the time to joke but smile he did nonetheless, saying to Cyrus “We’ve all got our crosses to shoulder, don’t we? I just want to make sure I’m not about to take on a liability. Besides, I’m curious. Tell me… What’s the worst that Vivianne Sloane’s son is capable of, hmm?”

That’s all he is isn’t he? Reduced to being just Vivianne Sloane’s son in this country. It makes him see red, taste the vitriol on his tongue, feel the raging sea beneath his skin trying to carve its way out. He doesn’t let it. With all that he’s amounted to, he’ll never escape her. He’s learned to live with that. He doesn’t let the anger seep into the blues of his eyes. He’s seen it in the mirror and what had been reflected was the image of a boy, the scared child within, the boy who was taught to fight and forced to be starved of the love he had craved. If he lets the anger tint his features, he knows that the man before him will see the pain beneath, clear glimpses of his soul drowning in this persona he’d created to fit this world of indifference. No, he’s too proud to let that happen. Too proud to admit that he was the mistake Vivianne Sloane had tried sweeping under the fucking rug all the way to South Africa. No, he would make her fucking own it.

“It would be highly arrogant of me to say that I don’t make mistakes. So, I will say this: It is in my interests to— lets say, tie my own success to yours. But I can’t do it without knowing what’s in it for me. Convince me that this isn’t going to be my biggest mistake, why don’t you?” Through sheer willpower, this man will do something of worth for him. “Because if you fail to utilise my employment effectively, we’ll both be sinking in the same boat. I wouldn’t want either of us to waste such precious time.” And speaking of time, Cyrus had to go soon. He has an appointment that he doesn’t want to miss.

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

Between the time he was shipped off to South Africa and now? He couldn’t even count, couldn’t even remember.

Everything had been difficult at first but with each task he had found that he could accomplish it all on his own with little more than a smile and a few charming, reassuring words. He picked it up from a man he no longer thinks of kindly, who should have been there when his mother wasn’t. But this thing that he’s doing now though, requires more than words. It’s as much of an interview for his new friend as it is for himself. From all the questions he’s gotten, what he gleans is that the Montagues are desperate for a foothold in Capulet ranks. And Cyrus, the princeling of Verona, the prodigal son, the product of negligence, is their way in and he’s willing to consider playing the part. He wonders, at this juncture, if his mother could be proud of him, of how far he’s come and how far he’s willing to go to achieve something he desires and he desires nothing more than seeing her humbled the way she had humbled him. To bring low a formidable woman such as she, a woman so feared she’s been dubbed a scourge of Verona, will be his most difficult task yet. But it’s not been asked of him by anyone. Except himself.

“Difficulty is subjective I believe.” Getting a plane ticket back to Italy months ago had been a feat. Meeting his mother after years and years of her elusion had been painful and exhausting. Agreeing to meet Lawrence Vernon and subsequently denounce all that the name Sloane stands for, his one link to his past, present and future, had to have been a difficult decision to make. But Cyrus surprised himself when he had found it easy to come here, to a known Montague property dressed in nothing but the slickest Italian fashion and Gucci loafers. And with the gun he’d been strapped with by Cosimo Capulet himself. “But I suppose if you really want an answer… I’m afraid I haven’t been asked to do many of the difficult things you’re probably thinking about.” Kill, torture, maim. “Though I don’t see why you might think I won’t rise up to the occasion. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

A grand finale, that’s what he thinks of it. This so called war plunges Verona’s economy into instability, it’s a wonder how the city hasn’t yet sunk like Atlantis. Granted that the sunken city was probably ill-favoured by the gods but what difference does Verona have to boast? The Three Witches look down from their pedestals and act as judge, jury and executioner. One day, when they decide to leave the city, Verona will surely share the same fate as Atlantis. Sink the stones rather than let new gods take their place. Such is the will and the way. “It’s unfortunate is what it is. Gang violence, drive by shootings, kidnappings and torture. It’s as if Verona has regressed fifty years.”

Sometimes, it’s difficult to believe that these are the times he’s living in. But just as in Cape Town, he’s used to the sight of people painting the streets red under the moonlight. “But hey, you know… If it’s bound to happen, who says war can’t be profitable, right? And that’s what you’re cashing on isn’t, Vernon? That our little arrangement will help make this war worthwhile for you.” For all that you’ve lost. Approval is now apparent in the way the lines around his mouth curves slightly, the way his chin juts out in a righteous fashion. “You’re a smart man, you know it’s all a marketing strategy. Provoke the other team and pretend you’re the heroes when you bring out your guns to protect the people from getting caught in the crossfire. Do you believe there’s honour in that?” To an extent, yes, Cyrus thinks so. Respect only comes from the money or your blood.

He can clearly imagine it. He sees it in his mind’s eye. The chaos and bloodshed — it’s all just cards on the table and he’s willing to play. Even if he lacked the fortune of receiving those Aces, he’ll find someone who has them and maneuver them into laying it out on the table. He wants this war to happen. He wants to be there for its unholy conclusion because when this war ends, and it will, he will be there on the victor’s side.

And just then, his watch begins to beep. It’s 3PM and it’s time for him to go. His contact is already waiting.

So, he begins to respectfully excuse himself as he shoves a history textbook into his bag. With all that he’s seen and learned since coming home, it’s still difficult to reconcile his reality with the memories he has of Verona of when he was a young boy.

Back then, he only knew of gardens of white lilies and black dahlias but as he grew up, he began to understand that even beautiful flowers could grow in ruins. Perhaps that is this war’s saving grace. That the blood and bodies buried in the soil will only make the earth more fertile for new shoots to grow. To make way for a new generation of Veronans, of true kings. He thanks his host for his time as he stands, reaching out a hand.“Our conversation has been…enlightening to say the least. Convince me and I’m all in for this war. I’ll help you end it.” Just the way he wants — with their problems on a spike.

Extras:

These are just drabbles I wanted to write out to illustrate the disparities between young Cyrus and grown up Cyrus. I’d like to make them canon if I can but as usual I’m definitely open to making changes with the input of the other players whose characters are involved! <3

Head / Mind

Cosimo never quite knew the boy, a boy who had an aptitude for solving problems and crossword puzzles. All he had heard was that the boy’s mother was ambitious. He never knew that that same ambition flowed through the boy’s veins.

Cosimo met the man when he was quite grown up, when he had built a name of his own in a country they had sent him to be forgotten. But the man was persistent, he’d never be forgotten so comfortably.

Upon reconnecting, Cosimo now remembers a young boy who he had seen playing with his daughter once at kindergarten. And all too easily, he remembers the boy building castles with the girl, building what may have been the tallest tower in the land. They cried and laughed as the stones of that Lego castle came tumbling down.

Now, he meets the boy-king who understands that they were no more playing in classrooms, a man who had gone to a different land and learned to dispatch kings and gods with no more than a few well chosen words in a few well placed ears.

Heart / Personality

Vivianne loved a boy once, a boy who had a soft face, who had naught but sunshine poured from his lips like water into a bowl. And like water into a bowl, he poured his soul into the things he loved doing in the afternoon. Papier mâché animals and oil pastel drawings. The boy had been happy until he turned around one day and realised he had no one to share that happiness with.

She doesn’t know what to tell him other than he is better off without her.

That boy had never believed her, not once. Not when she let him down by not bringing him home. Not when she never said anything about wishing things could be different. Not even when the day came he realised he loved her a little less.

Not once, until he starts to tell himself that he was indeed better off without her.

Vivianne knows a man now, at least she thinks she does. The man is an older, more cynical version of that boy she once knew. With his face still soft but his eyes now hard and cold as sapphires, he still pours out a part of his soul into his work. Though no more into things he loves doing but the things he must. The man has no more happiness to share for it has dried up when he left it under the blistering sun.

Spirit / Aspiration

More than ten years ago, Everett knew a boy who had enjoyed playing in the rain, running as far and as fast as his little feet could take him. He knew a boy who had enjoyed counting the stars and giggled when he lost count. The child who had said, “One day, I want to become a star. That way, I can always find you no matter where you or mamma go.”

Now, Everett only knows a man who no longer has space for anything that doesn’t move him forward. He knows a man who has no time for stargazing because all his nights have turned cloudy and heavy clouds take too long to dissipate.

He remembers a boy who had been promised the world, who grew up into a man who collects broken promises instead. The man is now an emissary to a cause he never thought he would be a part of but he makes the most out of it. Everett knows this because he knows the look of a man who has had to learn lessons without prior warning.

Everett knows a man who has had the stars in his eyes plucked out, though not by his hand. Does he think it might as well have been?

The man certainly does.

Soul / Cyrus

A boy once knew himself. He knew the man he would become. Like an astronaut that man would sail among the stars even if the distance between them would be cold and unforgiving. He knew he had a fire inside him and he had a darkness inside him, too. So, there was nothing to be afraid of in outer space because he saw it inside himself first.

But the boy could tell something weighed him upon the earth so that he could not fly. Something that clipped his wings, rendering his unable to visit the place in the heavens that he had dreamt of, that he was made of. So, he sought ways to snip away the strings of hopelessness and the tethers of a self-induced guilt that told him he didn’t try hard enough. The boy had found the best way to rid himself of that heaviness was to force it into someone else. Strike by strike.

And the boy flew away.

A man forgets parts of himself and he knows himself well enough to say that he has changed. He has learned that to exist without needing anyone’s approval is a most powerful freedom and living this way will bring the stars to him instead of the other way round.

And the man knows he will exercise that power until the world runs out of light.

#accepted #accepted: coriolanus

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ohpedromypedros-main · 6 years

Text

Run Away

Hey guys! Here’s that waiter!Bill fic I was supposed to post like...over a week ago. Lol! I hope you enjoy it! It came out different than how I thought it would, but I enjoy it a lot.

Author: @bill-skarsgard-writings

Word Count: 3,764

Characters: Waiter!Bill x Reader, some semi important characters

Pairings: Waiter!Bill x Reader

Warnings: mentions of cheating, adult language, smut, angst

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Summary: The reader is forced to go to a fancy restaurant to celebrate her aunt’s recent engagement, but the night does not play out as planned.

(I can’t find a good gif to resemble Bill as a waiter. Lol.)

Reader’s outfit for this fic

You weren't too thrilled when your parents dragged you to some fancy restaurant to celebrate your aunt's recent engagement. Not only did you despise your aunt's soon-to-be husband Randall, but you had already made plans with your girlfriends to go out to a bar for some drinks. Luckily they were cool with you having to cancel, telling you that there was plenty of time in the world to go out for drinks, but it was the sole fact that your plans were ruined that made you upset and stick to yourself the moment you arrived at the restaurant.

You didn't speak a word to anyone. Not a congratulations to your aunt and soon-to-be uncle, not a single word to your parents. Even the entire car ride to the restaurant you were quiet. All you did was stare out the window in a silent anger, just wishing you were with your friends and not on your way to a ridiculously overpriced restaurant.

“Y/N? Have you decided what you want to eat?” Your mother asked.

“No,” you snapped, keeping your gaze on your hands resting on the table.

“Y/N that is not how you talk to your mother.”

“I don't want anything to eat, alright?! I don't even want to be here!” You practically screamed. “I don't even like this piece of shit she's marrying!”

“Y/N!”

“No! No... I'm out of here,” you growled, standing up from your seat. Your father grabbed you by the wrist to stop you, but you quickly yanked free of his grip. Turning your gaze to your aunt who was sitting there in both shock and embarrassment from all eyes which were now on all of you, you spoke one final thing. “You might wanna check your future husband's cell phone because he's been fucking the bitch living next door to you.”

The whole restaurant fell silent as you stormed out the front doors, Randall shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't have a clue as to how you knew he'd been cheating on your aunt, but it chilled him to the core and especially made him angry. Your mom reached over to give your aunt's hand a comforting squeeze, apologetic eyes meeting hers.

“I'm so sorry, Viv. I don't know what's gotten into her.”

Witnessing the entire thing, one of the waiters stood silent in one of the far corners of the restaurant. He remained where he stood for several moments, eyes fixated on Randall while he closely studied his face. He definitely recognized him, he'd seen him there many times before, but not with your aunt. With another woman.

After you had stormed out, the waiter followed you outside to look for you. He found you around back leaning against the building wall with a cigarette tucked between your lips, but not lit. Your eyes were shut and your chest was slowly rising and falling, in a manner as if you were trying to calm yourself. Smiling, he approached you, reaching in his back pocket for the lighter he had with his own pack of cigarettes.

“Need a light?” He asked, causing you to jump with a small gasp. “I'm sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.”

You shook your head with a smile, letting out a quiet laugh of your own. “It's okay. Just didn't expect anyone to be out here. But to answer your question, yes I need a light.”

“Coming right up.” He lit your cigarette for you, grabbing a cigarette of his own from his pack and placing it between his lips. He lit it before taking a long drag and exhaling. You repeated that action. “I usually come out here for cigarette breaks, but I don't always see stunning woman like you back here.”

You blushed at his comment, biting down on your lip as you moved your gaze to his face. This man was absolutely beautiful. It was as if God himself sat there for hours sculpting out the features of his face until he reached the point of pure perfection; the cheekbones, the jawline, the eyes, the lips... God, those lips were plump and looked extremely kissable. It took a moment for you to fully comprehend something he had said and you looked away for a moment with a sigh quiet enough for only you to hear.

“So you work here?”

“I do.”

“Which means you just witnessed my little dramatic outburst?”

“I did,” he chuckled.

“That's embarrassing.”

“Not really,” he remarked. “I mean...you weren't wrong. About the guy cheating. I've seen him here several times before with another woman.”

“Really?” You asked, sort of taken aback. You knew he was cheating on your aunt, but you didn't know he was taking the woman to romantic restaurants.

“Yep. And he always has some sort of a gift to give her. Jewelry, flowers, chocolate, even shoes. When I saw him here with your aunt, I gotta be honest, I was pretty confused. Then when you mentioned him fucking their neighbor, it all made sense.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “I always had a bad vibe about that fucker, you know? Since the moment I met him. It was only when I caught him running home from the neighbor's house almost completely fucking naked that I knew he was cheating. I was going over that day to see if my aunt wanted to get her nails done, but she wasn't home.”

“I'm sorry, Y/N.”

“You don't need to be sorry, uh...” You glanced at his name tag. “Bill. You're not the one cheating on my aunt.”

He laughed softly, giving his head a shake. “No I am not. Never have cheated, never will cheat. I know how it feels to be cheated on.”

This made you frown and as if something else entirely suddenly had control over your movements, you reached for his free hand, giving it a squeeze. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. You're not the one who cheated on me,” he winked.

“I don't see how anybody could,” you whispered. “You're extremely nice and extremely sexy.”

The words came out before you could stop yourself from saying them and you immediately felt your cheeks burn hot with blush. Bill only smirked, bringing your hand up to his lips and lightly brushing them along your knuckles. You felt your heart race, a feeling as if someone was inside your chest pounding against it like it was a door, screaming to be let out.

“So you think I'm sexy, huh?” Bill teased, taking one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground.

“I-I... I've just... I've never...”

“Shh,” he cut you off, pressing the pad of his pointer finger to your lips. “You're blabbering. You've never what?” He asked, moving his finger so you could speak.

“Never met anyone as perfect as you,” you admitted in a whisper, eyes falling to the ground between your feet.

“Feeling's mutual.”

Lifting your head again, you swallowed the newly formed lump in your throat. “Really?” You whispered.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes scanning over the features of your face, taking in every perfection and what you thought to be imperfection. You couldn't move, you wouldn't dare yourself to anyway; not when he was admiring your beauty. “I've never laid eyes on someone so beautiful, so... Brave.”

“Brave?” You laughed.

“Well, you did just completely ruin your aunt's probably now ex fiance's life in front of not only your family, but the entire restaurant attendees and staff. So yeah, I'd say you're brave,” he chuckled.

“Oh. Well... Thank you.”

“You're welc--”

Bill was suddenly cut off by the sound of an angry voice. It made your blood run cold and without a thought, you clung tightly to Bill. The voice was that of Randall and you knew he was looking for you.

“Where are you, you dumb whore?! I know you're out here! No body saw you leave the vicinity! You're dead, bitch! Dead!”

Bill stiffened, not out of fear, but in a more protective manner. He motioned for you to stay quiet by placing his finger in front of his lips, dropping his hand down to the small of your back and quickly leading you over to a car down a nearby alleyway.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Yes,” you whispered, anxiously looking over your shoulder. Bill cupped your face, forcing you to look at him.

“He's not going to hurt you. Okay? I'm taking you out of here. Quick, get in the car.”

Giving your head a nod, you got in the car as fast as possible. You didn't even bother buckling your seat belt. You needed to be ready to jump out of the car in case Randall found you. Bill was quick to get in the car as well, not wasting any precious time in starting it up and speeding out of the alleyway. Bill nearly hit Randall on the way out, not caring to look in the rear view mirror to check whether or not he was on the ground. Instead, he kept driving, driving as far away from the restaurant as possible.

“Are you okay?” Bill asked, glancing over at you from the corner of his eye.

“Y-yeah. A little shaken, but I'm okay.”

“I'm going to take you to my family's restaurant, okay? It's closed at the moment, but it's the safest place I know of right now.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, reaching over to take his hand in yours. He instantly laced your fingers together, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You're welcome.”

During the drive to Bill's family owned restaurant, it began to downpour, but Bill wasn't going to let the sudden change in weather change his decision in bringing you to safety. He was going to drive you as far away from Randall as possible.

You were becoming a bit paranoid, afraid that maybe he was following you and Bill at the very moment, that he was going to get his revenge on your for ruining his relationship. Bill could see how tense you had become, how you nervously chewed on your lip, how you'd glance in the side mirror every once in a while, how you twiddled with your thumbs on your lap. He knew you were still scared, so he placed his hand on your thigh, immediately getting your attention.

“We're far away from him now, Y/N. I promise you you're safe.”

“Thank you Bill,” you murmured, grabbing his hand again. You were silent for a moment, but you decided instead of sitting in complete silence the entire car ride, that you'd strike up a conversation with Bill. “So if your family owns a restaurant, how come you're working at that high end pile of crap?”

Bill laughed, shaking his head with a smile. “Extra money, really. I've been saving up to start my own life. Move somewhere new, maybe start my own restaurant someday.”

“That sounds nice,” you smiled. “I'd eat anything from your restaurant.”

“Thanks,” he laughed. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you want to do with your life?”

“Oh. Well, I don't really know. I've never really thought about it to be honest with you. Growing up with rich parents, they always told me there was no sense in having a job or going off to college. They say I'm 'set for life'.”

“That's...not really a life to be living. I mean, of course I probably don't have a right in saying that, but.”

“No it's fine. Every single one of my friends tell me that. I'm just too scared to stand up to my parents, tell them I want to do things my own way. They're not particularly the patientest of people.”

“Well, if what I say matters any, I'd say you get the hell out of this town and do your own thing. Go to college, find a job, own your own home, live your life the way you've always wanted.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “There's a lot of things I'd like to do in my life, but I just feel held back by my parents. I don't like the rich life, you know? I don't enjoy the idea of having things handed to me on a silver platter. I want to earn things, not be given them just because I'm rich.”

“That's exactly the attitude you need when you confront your parents. Show them you're entitled to have your own life outside of theirs.”

“Yeah... I think I'll say everything I said to you.”

“And don't take no for an answer.”

“Exactly,” you laughed.

After a few more minutes of driving, you finally arrived at Bill's family restaurant where he parked around back and turned off the car. He smiled over at you, reassuring you once more that you were safe.

“Ready to run through this rain?”

“Absolutely,” you smiled.

“Great.”

He grabbed his keys from the ignition and searched for the key to the back door before getting out of the car and running to the door to unlock it. You followed suit, squealing as the rain soaked your hair and dress and as soon as you and Bill made it inside, the two of you were slumped over in laughter.

“Nice, now I'm drenched. And not in the good way,” you giggled.

Bill stood at his full height again, smirk making its way across his face. “Oh? And what way is the good way?”

Your face immediately turned beat red and you were thanking the gods that the lights were still off in the restaurant and that the room was only dimly lit by the exit sign above the door. “U-uhm, well... Like when a girl is aroused and her panties are...soaked. That kind of drenched.”

“Do you want to be drenched in that way?” He asked, his hands grabbing your hips to pull you flush against him.

You took in a shaky breath, clenching your thighs tight together as you felt your arousal already beginning to pool between them. Even though you and Bill had only met well over an hour earlier, there was an obvious attraction between the both of you. And you trusted him, trusted him more than most other people in your life. No other stranger would have saved you from the wrath of Randall like Bill did, though somehow to you, Bill didn't feel like a stranger. He felt more than that.

“Y/N?”

“Huh? Oh. I-I'm sorry. I drifted away there for a moment.”

“It's okay,” Bill started. “We don't have to do anything you're not c—”

You cut him off with a kiss, raising your arms to let them hang loosely around his neck. His grip on your hips tightened and the small moan escaping your throat only urged Bill to pull you even closer to him. You could feel his semi hard cock brushing against you, your lips parting as an even smaller moan passed your lips. Bill took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, letting it flick against your own while also letting it explore around.

“Bill...” You breathed, fingers clutching the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Mm?” He murmured, moving his lips to the pulse point of your throat.

“A-are there cameras in here?” You questioned, making Bill momentarily pause his movements. He pulled away to glance around, obviously having forgotten about the security cameras.

“There are, but I know a place where there aren't any cameras,” he smirked.

“The bathroom? No.”

“No,” he laughed. “One of the utility closets.”

“Hmm... That'll work.”

“That it will.”

He quickly grabbed your hand, leading you down a small hall in the back of the restaurant where there were a few doors. He opened one at the end of the hall and slipped inside, pulling you along with him. It was pitch black in the closet, not a single thing giving off any sort of light source. After fiddling around for a moment, Bill finally found the string to switch the light on, a bright smile on his face when his eyes landed on you. You both were still totally soaked from the rain and by the obvious erection showing through his black slacks, he was eager to be out of his clothes.

“May I?” He asked, gesturing to your dress.

“Please,” you murmured, biting your lip. “I'm getting kinda cold with it still on.”

“Oh I'll be sure to warm you right up, Y/N.”

You were at a loss for words when he tugged off your dress in one quick motion, once again blushing while his eyes trailed over your wet form. You tugged down your panties, letting them fall to the floor. Rubbing your hands over his chest, you worked at unbuttoning his dress shirt and removing his tie, smiling as they dropped to the floor by both your feet. Immediately your hands dropped to the button of his slacks, popping it open before quickly unzipping the zipper and reaching inside the fabric to free his cock. He finished tugging down his pants and boxers until they were at his ankles and he kicked them to the side so they were out of the way.

“Fuck, your cock is huge,” you whispered, eyes taking in every inch and every vein lining his length.

“Yeah? Bet it's got you drenched, huh?” He smirked, lifting one of your thighs so he could rub the leaking head of his cock at your entrance. You only gasped, giving your head a quick nod. “Do you want this?” He asked, stroking his cock a few times. “Want me to bury my cock all the way inside of you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Bill... Fuck me.”

Bill didn't speak another word. He only lifted you up, pressed you against the wall of the utility closet, and pushed himself past your entrance. Gasping at how tight you were, Bill had to take a moment to compose himself and let your walls adjust to his size. “Fuck you're so tight, Y/N.”

“Uh huh,” you moaned, letting your head fall against the wall behind you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, an impatient whine passing your lips. Bill only smirked, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in, burying himself to the hilt. “Fuck,” you gasped, mouth fallen open.

“You like that?” He asked, repeating the motion.

“Yes,” you moaned again, hands gripping his shoulders. “Fuck me hard against this wall, Bill.”

Bill immediately began thrusting in a quick manner, his grip on your thighs moving to your ass where he roughly squeezed both your cheeks. The atmosphere in the closet began to change, temperature rising almost instantly as both your body heat began to increase. Soon the both of you were drenched in sweat, heavy pants and low moans erupting from each of your mouths. Grabbing your face, Bill kissed you hard, his other hand still on your ass and squeezing it every so often.

“Bill,” you gasped. “I'm not gonna last long...”

“Oh yeah? Gonna cum on my cock, huh?”

“Yes,” you whined, rocking your hips against his. “Gonna cum real soon.”

“Cum for me, Sweetheart,” he murmured, dropping his hand to rub at your clit, stimulating your bundle of nerves. You let out a pleasured cry, head once again thrown back against the wall. He continued the motions on your clit and his harsh thrusts until you were shaking in his grip and coating his cock with your cum. He groaned at the feeling, forehead leaning to rest against your shoulder. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside of me,” you moaned. “I'm on birth control. You're safe.”

“Thank fuck,” Bill groaned, spilling his seed inside of you moments later, keeping his thrusts going until he rode out both your highs. Pulling out of you, heavy pants passed Bill's lips and he carefully set you back down on your feet.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I really needed that.”

“You and me both,” he chuckled.

You could only laugh, giving Bill an appreciative smile before kneeling to grab your dress and panties from the floor. You handed Bill his slacks and shirt, keeping his tie in your hand until you were able to put it on him again. Bill watched you in awe as you placed his tie around his neck and tied it for him, loving how experienced you were with it. Not many people were able to get tying ties down, yet there you were, tying his perfectly. You gazed up at him with a small smile, a light blush forming on your cheeks. Putting your own clothes back on, you wrapped your arms around Bill's middle.

“I'm glad I met you.”

“Feeling's mutual,” he winked. He was silent for a moment, gazing at you as he stood there in thought. He really liked you, a lot. He'd never fallen so fast for a girl before, but was he ready to admit it? You only tilted your head as Bill looked down at you, but he soon smiled and reached to cup your chin between his fingers. “Run away with me.”

“What?” You whispered, taken aback by his request.

“Run away with me. I know we've only just met, but... I like you a lot. You're a sweet girl, you deserve a life of your own, not one your parents want you to have, so... Run away with me. I can start my own restaurant like I've always wanted, far away from here, and you can go to college, find your dream job. We can get to know each other better along the way.. What do you say?”

You bit your lip in thought, not having expected him to offer such a thing. You did like the idea of leaving this life behind and living the life you've been wanting to live; and you especially liked the idea of doing it with Bill. After several minutes of thinking, you smiled up at Bill, giving your head a nod.

“Okay. I'll run away with you.”

Tagging: @jadelynlace @libido-of-a-libertine

Bill tag list: @weak-aesthetic @skarsgardtrash @mahomie-sara-9-84 @mango307 @elizabethkatarina @my-fan-girl-life

Everything tag list: @cecesunshine-fanfictions @this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms @scarlett-lehane @jughead-wuz-here @penni-saur

#writing #my writing #waiter!bill #waiter!bill x reader #bill x reader #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard #swedish meatball #bill-skarsgard-writings

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ready8210 · 5 years

Text

Let me in your heart again

3. Something’s missing

Vivian

Los Angeles / United States - Airport

The last view hours of our flight went by unspectacular. After my little comedic interlude earlier today, I preferred to maintain a low profile for the rest of the journey and stay on the sideline.

After almost 12 hours, filled with watching movies, listening music, editing photos and conversations with Roger, we arrived at our destination - sunny Los Angeles.

Roger, the little nosy scallywag he is, didn't insist to switch seats with Phoebe, to, as he called it, sweeten his day with me.

At least time flew and I learned something about the excessive life of a famous Rock band, as he amused me with stories about groupies and parties.

Whereas Freddie fell back into old patterns. After miming the nice guy for exactly two minutes, he was very busy to give me hell, with nasty remarks and potshots, for the remaining 718 minutes of the flight. Asshole!!

„We're standing here for about 30 minutes now, I think you should go meet the guys and head to the house." I say to him, as I dandle from one feed to another, with increasing worry. We were standing at the baggage claim, for what felt like ages, to wait for one of my suitcases to arrive. Unfortunately for the one, containing half of my photo equipment and to make it even worse, when I say photo equipment, I mean my sanctuaries.

After a horrible flight, the nightmare continues. A photographer without his camera, a really great start for my new job. Since meeting this Freddie guy, misfortune haunts me.

Phoebe, who wanted to help me with carrying my numerous suitcases and bags, tries to calm me in his soft soothing voice. "I'm sure your luggage will be here soon. We wait another 5 minutes."

"The others must be really pissed off already. You should go Phoebe. I can handle this on my own. I'll get me a taxi later." I try to refuse his offer. I don't even want to think about the impact, this delay will have on Freddie's state of mind. He hates me already, I don't want to aggravate the situation even more.

Phoebe notices my nervousness and starts to rub my back. "Don't be silly. I'll stay here with you. Don't puzzle your head about it. They can wait a little longer."

"Is everybody in Garden Lodge that stubborn?" A grin forms on my lips and I almost forget about my sorrows for a minute.

"You cheeky devil you." Phoebe smirks and pushes my shoulder.

"I just don't want to incur „the prince of darkness' wrath." I can't suppress a eye rolling, when suddenly Phoebe's cellphone starts to ring. I augur ill as I try to construe his mien.

"Freddie hi......

Wait, wait, wait.....Just give us another 10 minu.....

No, her bag is missing....no with the equipment.....

It's just 10 minutes Freddie....fine, see you in a view." he rashly ends the call, while screwing up his face.

"He already is furious, isn't he?"

I'm honest. I could cry right now.

Phoebe lets out a long haggard sigh „I'm afraid he is."

Facing the floor, I numbly shake my head. "Great. He'll give me hell. We've waited long enough now, I should speak to the airline staff." I declare, while starting to walk away.

"Ok, lets go. Let me take this" he affirms with a smooth smile, as he grabs one of my suitcases and we make our way.

* * * *

„Look who finally arrived. You better have a good excuse. We're cooling our heals for an hour now." A furious Freddie impatiently tabs his feet with crossed arms. His narrowed eyes burning holes into mine.

A weak and almost invisible „Sorry." comes over my lips, as I shamble towards the waiting group, standing in front of the parking van, that would bring us to our final destinations.

"If this is your excuse, you've failed miserably." he hisses, his expression turning even darker, so his eyes look almost black.

"Let's just go." I mumble absently, seeing Roger stepping in front of me, looking at Freddie grim-faced, laying his hands on my shoulders and searching for eye contact, with a worried look on his face.

I have to smile at him shyly, as I feel tears filling my eyes.

That's just wonderful. Don't start to cry in front of Mr Rock God. You have to be strong now.

"What's wrong Viv?" Roger whispers in concern, now patting my shoulder.

"Nothing that a rooftop and an AK-47 won't take care of." I quip.

Freddie slightly starts to chuckle at my reply. Maybe seeing me dead would lighten his mood.

Roger smiles weakly, as the others start to get into the van. „You have your luggage?"

"No, it's lost." I tell him concerned, fumbling in my bag.

"They send it somewhere else?" he asks, as he steps back a little.

Putting out my cigarettes, I face him again. „No, they don't know where it is." I stop him with a wave of my hands.

Yes, I put out my cigarettes. I really don't care if I smell like an ashtray anymore. Mr Mercury hates me anyway and maybe the smell will keep Casanova aka Roger away.

"I'm sure you'll get it back soon." he tries to convince me rather badly, stepping besides me, to lay his arm around my shoulder and rub my arm. Roger seems to be out of words for the first time in history.

Putting the cigarette in my mouth and lighting it, I just let out a weary hum, before taking the first puff.

We just stand their silently for a view minutes, as I hold the cigarette in front of Roger, to break the awkward silence.

"Thanks" he chirps with a wink and takes a puff.

"If looks could kill....we better get in." I mumble, as I notice Freddie shooting me a vicious glare, while stepping into the car with a face like thunder.

The fact, that I only have to survive one last car ride with him today, gives me new confidence. I can manage one ridiculous drive, all I have to do is stay silent and not be provoked by my new pal. Honestly, how hard can it be?

"Congratulations everybody, our personal standup comedian has finally made it into the car." I hear a posh British voice sarcastically addressing me, as I enter the van.

So much for it, my good intentions are already thrown overboard. If he wants war, he can have war!

"I'm pleased you enjoyed my little performance. Considering your omnipresent depressed look, I thought you could need something to raise your spirits." I hit back with a annoyed look, while seating myself between Phoebe and Roger, at the rear seat bench.

Blessedly there was some safe distance between Freddie and me, since Roger performed as a "Buffer", sitting between the two of us.

"You have to remember who you're talking to." Paul, sitting right in front of me, hisses, while turning around to face me.

"Paul, do what you do best and suck up to Freddie." I rumble, rolling my eyes.

Oops, did I really just say that?

In the corner of my eye, I can see Freddie leaning forward and looking at me. As I face him with raised brows, he shoots me a baffled look. Paul already turned around again, grumbling something with gritted teeth.

I'm afraid I may loose my job by the end of the day, but I really don't care. I've reached a point where - to cite Mr Freddie Mercury - nothing really matters to me. The point of no return so to say.

"For fuck sake kids, stop the bickering, we haven't even left the airport." an unnerved Brian exclaims livid, which causes Freddie and me to sit back in our seats and look at him in surprise.

I couldn't imagine Brian ever being so enraged.

For whatever reason, Freddie couldn't care less about Brian's advice and continues to squabble. „Oh, fu** off Brian. The only one acting like a child is her." He spits out, leaning forward again, to await my reaction.

"Says the man, who needs FIVE people to use the restroom." I snarl, looking in the opposite direction. With no sound coming from Freddie, I turn to face him, with the most devastating look I can manage.

"I mean, I do get why you take Paul there, he sticks in your ass anyway...but..."

"You little...." Freddie stifles, desperately searching for some clever words to end his sentence, while Roger has a hard time to suppress his laughter.

"Ouch...!" Roger whines, after Freddie forcefully hits him on the back of his head.

"Yes Freddie? ....Just get it off your chest. I dare him with a confident and defiant smile. My brows raised in anticipation.

Speechless Freddie gasps on his seat, his head turning red in rage, while his mouth twitches uncontrollably, by his hopeless situation.

„You little .... b-brat." he finally stammers, visibly dissatisfied with his shiftless remark. Trying to escape the awkwardness, he quickly leans back in his seat and turns away, to look out of the window.

"That's it? I think I can live with that." I giggle, a pleased smile forms my lips, as I lean back to face Phoebe. "You'll get along well, he?" I jibe. Phoebe just looks at me helplessly, shrugging his shoulders and trying to avoid my gaze.

Roger, still giggling, turns to Freddie. „Wow, that wasn't your best Fredster." he snickers, with a shake of his head.

"Oh fu** off Roger. You just being nice, cause you want to shag her." Freddie snaps, so everybody in and surely a view people outside of the car can hear him. I facepalm at his last comment, to elude Rogers gaze, who now sheepishly smiles at me.

"Is somebody jealous?", he teases Freddie, which results in another slap on his head.

Rubbing it, he lets out a murmur. "I don't hook up with mari...."

„Ouch!!" I elbow him, my eyes widened in panic, as I shoot him a reproachful look. After a view seconds, he lets out a plain "Oh", while shrugging apologetically. At least the penny's dropped.

Poor Roger, playing the buffer must be painful.

"Ok, ok, ok, everybody just calm down." a soft voice from the front of the car reaches out to us. Good old, placid John tries to sooth us with his smooth, serene tone.

The attempt unfortunately fails, as Roger decides, to teas Freddie a little more.

„I think someone has finally met his equal." he sarcastically quips to Freddie, who shoots him a death glare in response.

Considering this last ‚conversation', I really think, we all just went back to preschool.

Trying to relieve some of this gruelling tension, swirling around in the van, I start to make conversation to Roger.

"Will we get to the villa, or drop me off at my hotel first?" I ask casually, fumbling in my bag, searching for my cellphone.

Mr Beach informed me, that I would stay at a hotel, whereas the boys, Paul and Phoebe would be lodged in a villa in the Hollywood hills.

After the cheerful atmosphere between Freddie and me, I was more then grateful.

"Oh, now that you mention it." A now uncertain Roger starts to tell me. "You will be staying with us." He continues, backing up a little and turning his face away slightly, as being afraid, I could hit him due to his disclosure.

"Why the hell is this the current state of play? Who decided this, without even asking me?" I harshly whisper a tad to loud at him, before cussing him with some German swear words (something like ‚Trottel', ‚Idiot', ‚Depp', ‚Scheiße' and ‚Arsch', just to mention a view), my face turning deep red in frustration.

Roger stares at me in disbelief and try's to find the best way, to break it gently.

"Weee........I.IIII" he stutters. "I thought it would be a good idea. The house is sooo big and we get along so we" he tries to sugarcoat our gridlock, as I interrupt him with wrath in my voice.

"Are you suffering from amnesia or something? Did Freddie slap you to hard? You've noticed he devoted his life to hate me?!?!" I get carried away by my overwhelming frustration, before staring into my lap and deciding to ignore just everybody in this fucking car.

Keeping your mouth closed may be a good idea Vivian. I really don't want to spoil things with Roger too.

"Somebody has found a new victim.", an amused Freddie giggles next to Roger, looking at him with a grin from ear to ear. "So much for getting laid." He bursts out laughing, looking out of the window again, while Roger starts to tap my arm, to make me look at him.

I refuse to give in and fumble for my headphones.

Only music can make things right at this point.

With the shuffle mode set, I hit play, while closing my eyes and sinking into my seat.

‚This thing called love, I just can't handle it' It echoes in my ears. „This can't be true" I sigh, as my eyes spring open again. Mr Mercury is everywhere, even in my shitty phone.

‚This thing called love, I must get rou......' I tap wildly on my phone, to successfully stop the mocking sound of him.

‚Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time' , Freddie's voice reaches my ears again.

What the hell is going on here? Please lord, show mercy, I face the roof, sending prayers up, while tabbing my phone like a maniac, without any success, to stop his breathtaking voice. Did I just say that? It happens again. The devil enchanted me.

‚I feel alive and the world I'll turn it inside out, yeah', I let out a long miserable sigh, as I start to beat the phone against my leg, which results in my seat-mates staring at me in confusion.

‚And floating around in ecstasy', he still chirps in my ear, as I give up for a second, to reconsider my next step.

‚So don't stop me now don't stop me', „What the hell is wrong with this fucking phone...Oh noooo, I will stop you now, Mr fuc*** Mercury." I finally make the music stop. "Finally" I sigh satisfied, as I realize everybody is staring at me, waiting for an explanation for my questionable behavior. I freeze by Freddie's words, as I feel uncertainty growing in me.

"I'm pleased I'm such a big deal for you." Mr Mercury hums brazenly, twinkling at me, with a big smug grin, plastered on his face. A face I want to slap right now.

Deciding to just ignore him, I put away my useless, sneaky phone.

Freddie, being disappointed by my refusal, now is incited to start teasing.

"You've lost your camera?" He eagerly chirps.

„Brilliant deduction Watson, you catch on fast, really impressive." I mumble in boredom, not even looking at him.

„Than I have a suggestion for you. Without a camera and the fact you don't want to stay with us, I think it's best for you, to book the next flight back to London. I mean, you are more than useless at the moment." He submits buoyant, looking at me challenging, with his sparkling eyes.

„Fortunately I was smart enough to bring a second and a third camera with me." I retort, while putting on the most plastic smile possible.

Freddie's mood now darkens, as he realizes, I won't be intimidated by his words.

"It would be smart to search for a REAL job now." He spits tamely, looking at me, as if regretting, to not come up with something better.

I smile at him cheekily. "Considering what I will get paid here, I don't have to worry about a "real" job......FOR YEARS." I stifle the conversation.

This answer marks the turning point for him. He lets out a deep growl, pushes his now clenched fist to his knee, before pattering something for the next 5 minutes.

At this point I wish I could just keep my mouth shut for one minute. I still have no clue what is going on here. Usual Vivian already would've been crying several times throughout the day and surely wouldn't have the strength and courage to raise her voice, like I did over and over again.

It's death proof. I will experience hell for the next two years.

Roger brings me back to messy reality. "2:0 for Viv." He giggles towards Freddie.

I give him a slight push again, to make him stop, making things even worse.

„Roger, don't always meddle in my business.", Freddie spits at him, his narrowed eyes fixed on me.

Roger decides to ignore my objections and cheerfully babbles away. "Someone has to and make you stop, you're acting ridiculous."

I take Freddie as an example and sink into my seat again, trying to cut off from the outside world and maintain silent for the rest of the drive.

The other co-drivers follow our lead and drowse after this exhausting flight.

Not a sound is to be heard, as we're getting closer to our destinations.

I am almost asleep, as the van suddenly hits a monstrous pothole. It must have been huge, cause everybody bounced up from their seats.

„Vivian darling, fasten your seatbelt, we are excepting further turbulences. And don't forget to breathe." Freddie suddenly giggles out in his smug, disdainful tone.

„Freddie, do you never get tired?" an annoyed Brian asks him, glancing at him, while I roll my eyes and let out a bugged sigh.

„I hear an annoying, monotonous drowning in my left ear all the time.", I say playfully, while rubbing my ear. "Anybody else here, with the same problem?", I go further, looking around.

Freddie blankly shakes his head and finally keeps silent and stops his taunting for the rest of the drive.

* * * *

The enjoyable and long-yearned-for peaceful silence unfortunately is interrupted, as Roger suddenly speaks up. „Ehm Fred, there's a big fat spider hanging in front of you.", he taps Freddie on the arm, trying to get his attention. Freddie was fallen asleep 30 minutes ago and is now looking around in confusion, almost unable to open his eyes.

„What?", he mumbles sleepy, while stretching out in his seat and trying to find a comfy position.

„There's a big fat spider hanging in front of you.", Roger declares again, pointing at the ugly black monstrosity, hanging right in front of Freddie's nose.

Looking at it with panic filled, widened eyes, vigorously pressing his back into his seat and waving around with his arms and hands, as if to fend a swarm of killer bees, Freddie lets out a high pitched scream. One that sounds, as if somebody just kicked him in his balls. Or more suitable for a Freddie Mercury, his Crown Jewels.

I'm unable to laugh about it, beeing to busy to look panicked and move myself away from the place of action, closer and closer to Phoebe. So close, I almost sit on his lap.

„Jesus Christ Freddie, it's just a spider." , an annoyed Roger exclaims, raising his brows in incomprehension.

„Keep it away, keep it away.....just kill it. Just be useful for only one time and kill this fuc*** thing.", a tensed Freddie presses out, his voice slightly cracks at his last words.

Roger grabs the spider and moves to face me, coming closer....a bit too close. "You wanna take a look?" He smiles at me, before noticing my scared state.

I shake my head like crazy, moving back even more, as I try to breath evenly. "Oh god, are you mad? Just stay away, or you and your hairy friend will not survive this journey.", I hiss at him.

„Oh god, relax. It's a fucking spider, guys." Roger looks back and fourth between the two of us, with pure incomprehension.

Freddie finds his voice again by Rogers words. "It's a disgusting hairy monster.", he hisses at Roger, his face distorted with fear and disgust.

I only can nod at Freddie's last statement. "Everything with more than 4 legs is the enemy. Please just kill it." I plead Roger, my hands clenched in the seat.

You've already heard about my multiple anxieties.....you just discovered a new one.

Those little many-legged creatures scare me to death.

„With my hands?", Roger asks irritated....shooting me a questioning glance.

I can't handle it anymore at this point. Either the spider has to leave this car, or it's me. I will jump right out of the window, if necessary. "Just kill it Roger!!!! Please just get it out of here. I don't care what you do with it, as long as it is out of this car in less than 10 seconds.", I exclaim, fumbling in my bag and putting out a tissue.

"Here....", I say, handing it to Roger.

Roger, being extremely dull at this moment, looks at me disbelievingly. You can see the question marks popping out of his head. "What is this for?" He asks baffled.

„Put it in there and squash it!", I tell him quickly, trying to imitate the 'process of squashing a spider' with my hands.

Roger looks away at his hands, shaking his head with an eye roll. "You two are such babies. At least you've got something in common.", he determines. "Who would have thought that?!"

„Oh yes Roger. It's just wonderful. Now we can discuss our arachnophobia over a cup of tea.", I scoff sarcastically, almost relaxing a bit in my seat.

Freddie's chuckle makes way for his frightened face, as Roger kills the spider with a loud crack, which lets Freddie and me groan in disgust. "Is everybody happy now?"

A satisfied sighing Freddie relaxes in his seat and turns to face the window, as his cheeks start to glow.

I have to screw up my face by the cracking sound. „I think I have to vomit...and it's not because Paul is here.", it rashly escapes my lips, which results in giggles from Freddie, Phoebe and Roger and, of course, a scornful gaze from Paul.

Did Mr Mercury just giggle? I can see a bright future for the both of us.

Chapter 4 coming soon....

Also published on wattpad:

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diveronarpg · 5 years

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Congratulations, LINA! You’ve been accepted for the role of TROILUS with an FC change to Henry Golding. Admin Rosey: I am absolutely HOWLING. So, when I was writing Troilus, I was having an amazing time -- he’s so nuanced and seemingly superficial, but there are so many detailed facets that contribute to his happy-go-lucky attitude. He’s so utterly disarming and charming that, from the interview alone, I couldn’t help but swoon over him. Your development for him promises so much, from the sought-after revelation of Celeste’s infidelity to turning him into a hollow and hungry creature. I’m absolutely over the moon to be putting my precious boy into your hands, Lina. By all means, ruin us all. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Lina. Age | 26 Preferred Pronouns | She/her Activity Level | 5 – Med school honestly wipes the floor with me most days, so I can’t promise daily activity but as I’ve said before, I promise consistency and communication. I’ll request a hiatus if needed, and I won’t disappear or drop-out without warning. Timezone | Finally back in EST (UTC-5:00) Current/Past RP Accounts | —

In Character

Character | Tomas Sabello -> Could I request an FC switch to ether Henry Golding or Godfrey Gao? I love Bob Morley to pieces but I’ve used him as an FC for long enough that I really struggle to dissociate him from the role I played. I think Henry fits Tomas’ gentle disposition best, but Godfrey has more versatility in terms of acting roles/expression which seems more in line with the mood in Verona and what he may eventually become… I dunno! I’ll leave it to you guys to choose the preferred alternate FC in the event that I do get accepted. I’d be happy working with either one.

What drew you to this character? | I really liked how opposite he is to Viv, honestly. He’s so enamored with emotion, and despite the fact that he’s an actor by trade, he’s an open book when it comes to anything that inspires feeling within him. I think Tomas loves the idea of love to such an extreme that there’s no thought to guarding himself from it. No amount of pride could keep him from offering his heart up, not even the threat of rejection. He takes and he takes, but he also gives to the people around him, indiscriminately; even to the most insignificant of passersby who’ve touched his life or inspired his creativity in some brief, ephemeral way. While Viv absorbs and safeguards whatever light she finds, Tomas reflects it freely back into the universe, and I really like that dichotomy.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

*∆* - Ignorance isn’t bliss, it’s oblivion: I’ll keep this point short and sweet; I want Tomas to find out about Celeste’s infidelity and for his heart to get absolutely shattered in the process. It could be sooner, later or whenever, but I think we’re all holding our breaths for that to happen in the story, and I’d love the opportunity to portray that.

*∆* - To fight one’s nature is a losing battle: This is a plot contingent on the arc of his relationship with Celeste and details pertaining to their marriage (how long it takes for him to find out she’s cheating on him, what they do with that information, if they divorce, etc.). But essentially, I’d like to show Tomas’ struggle with his own fidelity because in his bio, he strikes me as the sort of character that doesn’t settle on one lover easily. And he loves Celeste with every inch of his being and right now that’s what’s keeping him faithful, but I think that even if her infidelity isn’t revealed, eventually Tomas will start to feel the strain. He’ll notice the little signs along the way that hint that she doesn’t quite love him the way he loves her. I think those would put cracks in the marriage even if Isabella wasn’t in the picture. I’d like to explore those, and how little micro-tensions crop up in chronic relationships when one partner feels like they’re pulling all the weight. I want to dig into that and cast the lens on a quietly troubled relationship, and I want to see how far it pushes Tomas in response. Does he grow colder? Does he seek intimacy elsewhere? Does he fall into the same temptation and cheat on Celeste, whether physically or emotionally? Let’s find out!

*∆* - Any way the wind blows: I’ve always imagined Tomas to be the unsettled sort, in all senses of the word. His loves have always been transient and fleeting, his decisions (both in leaving Rome and marrying Celeste) seem rash and impulsive… I think capriciousness is a trait of his that extends to all facets of his life. So one headcanon I have for him is that now that he’s on sabbatical from acting, he’d want to try his hand at something new. Activities or careers that he gets excited by every few weeks and actively chases until something changes and then he drops the ball and moves on, certain he’ll find his luck elsewhere. I think it’d be interesting to see him get into all sorts of mix-ups while catering to this instinct, and maybe unintentionally making himself a nuisance to other characters in their line of work in the rp. Just this over-excited dude picking up positions and then dropping them as if life’s his own picnic… It’s definitely going to rub some people the wrong way and I’m here to see it happen!

*∆* - The hardest of hearts: … I’m intrigued by Tomas’ deep resentment of Roman Montague. His bio implies that it’s his acting experience which primes him to look at Romeo as if he’s also an actor, playing a part he doesn’t deserve. But I think it goes deeper than that. I think canonically, even, Tomas’ character seems to have a lot in common with Romeo from Shakespeare’s original, or at least, the earliest version of Romeo that we see. Lovelorn and lackadaisical, an innate predisposition for goodness, and yet undoubtedly leaving lovers a little carelessly in his pursuit of love, etc. So the way I see it, beyond his judgment of Roman as being unfit to rule, I think Tomas doesn’t like him bc he sees in Roman all of the same flaws he recognizes subconsciously in himself. It’s always easier to see our flaws through a mirror. I’m interested in seeing how far Tomas would go to spite Roman in order to avoid having to confront himself. The fact that Celeste is still tied to the Montagues would also be a continuous dilemma for Tomas, who dislikes both mobs. Depending on what plots come up, I might even entertain the thought of getting Tomas tied up in Capulet business, with the singular goal of bringing down Roman Montague.

*∆* - … Destroys itself in the end: In his bio, it’s alluded that Tomas took from both his parents when it came to his nature. He loved as frequently and as persistently as his mother, but destroyed those in his wake as surely as his father; leaving his path littered with broken hearts. I want to see that side of Tomas again. Except this time, instead of it being an accident of youth and of too much ignorance, I want it to be intentional. I feel like heart-break would leave him hollow and hungry, and I want to experience that side of him. I think his capacity for hurt is almost equally potent to his capacity for love, and that’s what makes him such a compelling character in my eyes.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Through a well-developed plot, yes.

In Depth

These interview chairs are always so stiff that Tomas has to wonder whether it’s intentional. Maybe it’s to keep him from falling asleep, but he’d never do that. He likes giving interviews for the most part. Of course, it was easier in his early twenties; when he had very little in the ways of a filter but was blessed with the circumstances in life that permitted him to get away with it. Oh, and an adoring audience. That always helped of course. These days, as a married man in a new city, he has to be more careful with his tongue.

That doesn’t make him any more careful with his smiles, however. And right now he’s aiming one of his most brilliant at the interviewer who’s already started asking him questions. They’re three minutes in, but she hasn’t returned any of his good cheer so far, and that’s uncommon. He’s remembered all his pleasantries, he’s been considerate enough in opening doors and waiting to be seated - but still, nary a smile. He doesn’t mind too much, but it makes his job so much more enjoyable when they do. And as a result, Isabella Gagliano is both a damper and a challenge. But before Tomas can engage her into lowering her defenses, she’s presented him with the next in a series of fan-chosen questions.

“What is your favorite place in Verona?”

”The Two Gentlemen. Certainly the best bottle of pinot grigio that I’ve ever had.” Tomas tells her, lips pressing together as sweetly as the juice from those sticky wine grapes. “You wouldn’t be remiss either if you tried the risotto al tastasal. That’s a real recommendation, you know?” He stage-whispers with a grin, “Off-the record.” But if Isabella takes note, he can’t tell.

The truth is, it’s a lie. A white lie, he consoles himself, because sometimes, the truth is too heavy a price to pay. The truth is that his favourite place in all of Verona is the recently abandoned Multisala Rivoli. It’s a cliche, he knows, an actor finding his second-home inside of a rundown movie-theatre. But it isn’t for the movies that he goes, nor out of any misplaced vainglory. Rather, it’s the promise of nondescript privacy that draws him like a bee to to honey. There, he can meet his new friends beyond the prying eyes of the media. There, he has a clandestine spot to escape the humdrum of the city for a few hours, alone with his thoughts. But it’s not a truth he’s ready to share, and moreover, the Montagues will like this answer better. It’s a nod to their territory; a little more promotion for their best-boasted restaurant. He refuses to join them, he refuses to share in their cause, but maybe sliding in such harmless tips will convince them to lay off of Celeste’s case and stop pressuring her to pressure him to join. Truth and politics don’t mix. Every time a video begins recording, Tomas is well aware of that. But above all, an actor must always remember his part.

“What does your typical day look like?”

“What, like a twenty-four hour play-by-play?” He asks playfully. “No one’s that interesting,signorina, I promise. I remember I was asked a similar question in an interview two or three years ago. I think it was for Sorrisi e Canzoni? Or maybe GQ…. Either way, it was a much more exciting answer back then. Plays, parties, private jets… ” Tomas reminisces fondly, but not fond enough to want to trade it in for his present. “I hate to disappoint, but it’s not the same anymore. I’m a married man on sabbatical now, remember??” He says, directing the question towards the camera before letting his gaze find Isabella once more. His life is quieter now, but happier too. “Not that it’s boring by any stretch. I’d recommend marriage, actually. I know it’s done wonders for me! But if I start talking about her and all the ways she’s changed my routine everyone will be rolling their eyes and complaining about cavities before this interview’s over.” Tomas chuckles, thinking of the myriad of ways his daily life has become synonymous with Celeste. What time she wakes, what time she leaves, when she comes home or when he gets to persuade her out of the house on little dates… He has a life outside of Celeste to be sure, but it’s only around her that he’s really reminded of what he’s working towards. Like Eros and Psyche, he thinks. He loves, but she sets fire to his love and gives it true sustenance. A future, a family, a very happy ending - That’s all he wants these days.

“What has been your biggest mistake thus far?”

He laughs at that, taken aback by the girl’s directness. “Is that really what it says on your sheet??” He cocks a brow, leaning forward as if to sneak a peek. “Damn… That’s harsh.” Sometimes, his fans seem like tiny mosquitoes; hungry for every teeny-tiny drop of his blood as they submit questions as invasive as these. “I have to think about that one…” Tomas admits with a bemused shake of his head. “I try not to think of my experiences as mistakes. Even the ones that might feel like it initially. Everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it? Don’t you believe that?” He looks to his interviewer as though hoping to coax another answer out of her, but she doesn’t indulge him. He’s always preferred dialogue to monologue, despite his choice of career. It takes an exchange of ideas to see the world through new lenses, and he can’t do that while talking continuously about himself. But another pensive, stolen glance at Isabella tells him that she probably won’t care what his answer is, so long as he gives one. He could make it up right here on the spot - something like ‘I’ve started a third gang in Verona to spite the Mobs‘ or ‘I kicked a dog once’, and she probably wouldn’t bat an eyelash. He wonders why. He wonders why she’s so determinedly expressionless.

“Do you play Poker?” Tomas asks without warning. He hadn’t meant for that to come out of his mouth but somehow it does and it takes another laugh and a wave of his hand to dismiss it. “Sorry. But you could! It’s impressive actually - in a good way. To answer your question, I think I’ll have to keep this one to myself.” It’s apologetic but firm, because his biggest mistake is failing his parents. Of all the roles he’s played thus far, that of ‘son’ has always left him most wanting. He couldn’t fix their marriage. He couldn’t inspire their divorce… To this day, his adulterous mother and destructive, ill-tempered father remain tethered to each other. Two rusting anchors, weighing themselves down to the bottom of the sea-bed… Most days, Tomas tries hard not to think about it. But there are some moments, moments when he’s feeling low, that he wonders if he’s responsible for their unhappiness; wonders if he couldn’t have done more to help them find happiness, along the way. Today is one of the predetermined no-thinkdays though. The days he’s giving interviews always are. “Sorry about that… Got anything else on your nifty list?” He prompts her, hoping to move on to a happier topic.

“What has been the most difficult task asked of you?”

This question too, gives him pause. More than he’d like. There’s the shadow of fleeting suspicion as he steals a glance at Isabella, wondering if they’re posing these questions on purpose to throw him off. But what cause would a reporter have to do that? You’re being silly,he chides himself, mulling over the question. Again, he knows the real answer.

Commitment.

It isn’t easy to choose a single person in this life, Tomas thinks. To narrow his expansive romantic inclinations and promise them to one individual and one individual only. But it’s a choice he reminds himself of every morning when he wakes up, when he cracks an eye open only for his gaze to fall on the familiar comfort of Celeste’s blazing red hair, like a halo around her cherubic face. It’s a choice he must remember when he’s comparing paintings with Juliana and hears the clear-bell tone of her laughter echo in the museum. A choice he must remember when his fingers find the soft, unwritten skin beneath Santino’s wrist as they look for stars in a midnight sky. A choice he recalls even as he listens to Paola recount the tales he’s missed in her life; eyes dancing with ferocious passion and he thinks what if, what if…

… But it’s a struggle he dares not reveal. It would insult his beloved wife, it would make a mockery of the vows they took in front of that altar, all those months ago. Worse still, it would surely garner derision from the audience, especially from his most die-hard fans; some of who still count on the failure of his marriage in order to regain the bachelor fantasy they’d attached to their idol. But idols were effigies of gold and silver. He was not an idol, he was a man of flesh and blood and feeling. Do you understand?… You will never understand me like she has, he wants to rebuke them. But there’s an old fondness that he can’t help when it comes to those who loved him first. And so his countenance softens as he answers the reporter’s question. “The most difficult task for me, has been leaving behind all my loved ones in Rome. My friends, my family, my fans…” He presses his fingertips to his lips for a moment before waving them towards the camera, sending the kiss to those who’ll hope for it most, when the interview airs tomorrow night. “I send my love, and I’m humbled by your continued support.”

“What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

“It’s-… It’s insanity.“

Now the Montagues won’t like that. But he feels the answer so strongly, and with so much conviction that he thinks the glassy brightness in his eyes would betray him anyway. Some lies are too big to swallow, even for an actor. “Brutal and unnecessary - do they even remember what they’re fighting for?” He asks Isabella, though he thinks she’s probably no closer to answering that than the other Veronesi. “You know, the stories say that it’s been so many decades now that no one knows any more… Isn’t that silly? To fight over something that you can’t even remember?” But deep down, Tomas knows it’s not that simple. Because mobs don’t need an impetus; not when there’s so much profit to be made in criminality. All the rest is just stories, to play on the sympathies of a winsome public. He should know… He played on that same, guileless sympathy, night after night after night on a front-lit stage. But art is one thing, war is another. And Celeste is tied up in this war, much as he hates to think about it.

“Maybe I’ll go back to Rome one of these days,” Tomas announces abruptly, shifting upright in his chair. There’s an ardent gleam in his eyes because he likes thinking in maybes. They’re so much more satisfying than the limitations of what is or isn’t strictly possible. “I’d like to take my wife with me. She’s never been… Can you believe it?? Never been to Rome… We could start there, then maybe a tour of Europe. Maybe a second honeymoon. I’m sure she’d like that.” He doesn’t know if that’s true, he doesn’t know if he can ever return to Rome, but it has a romantic ring to it nonetheless. And when has Troilus ever been able to deny the sweet-nothing whispers of romance, even as a city tears itself apart around him?….

Never, he thinks… Not even then.

——————————————-

(Thank you for Reading!!)

#accepted #accepted: troilus

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