rustyparker

[rustyparker]

When she asked him about why he chose this genre, Russ had to think about it for a second. "I grew up with it", was his main answer. "When you go through some shit, rapping about it is the only thing you can do to feel better sometimes." That, and taking copious amounts of drugs. "My friends taught me that." When she told him she'd never have to worry about being in one of his songs, he laughed. "Oh come on, you know you're hot. You prolly hear it twelve times a day. Why wouldn't I write a song about you?" Sometimes, a pretty face was all it took to inspire him. He had some deeper songs for sure, but he enjoyed the lighthearted stuff. At the drop of a hat, he improvised: "Candy baby, why you lookin' so good? Candy baby, why you got that glass in your foot?"

He was a bit disappointed that the mention of his fans did not appear to arouse any kind of envy in her, but he was sure once she'd see him at one of his shows, she would start feeling him more. It had happened so many times already, he'd lost count. A proud grin spread across his face when she asked for the venue. "The Urban Oasis." It was a bar just a few blocks away, she'd probably been there once or twice. Sometimes he'd go there during work, if he wanted a break. He usually stuck around a little too long. He had quite a history with the place, but since he knew the owner for several years and was always bringing in new people, his group was allowed to play there. "You can bring a pretty friend, it might make me perform better", he joked. "I guess I don't gotta tell you to wear somethin' cute, you always do. You got Instagram?" He took his phone out of his pocket, pulling up his band's insta page. "If you want you can get a preview of our music." Aside from promoting his group, he was also eager to follow her page if she had one. She was kinda hard to figure out, maybe if she had an online presence, it would showcase some of the stuff she liked. Maybe he'd also be able to find her name somewhere. It wasn't even that he absolutely needed this information, but the fact that she kept it so secret was bugging him.

“Hm…” Dark brows knit, Marinette unconsciously biting her lip. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard an electric guitar live.” Or perhaps she had, but hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice. Either seemed well within reason these days. If someone had told her even yesterday that she would be sitting in the locker room with Russell she would have laughed, yet here she was. “Why rock and rap? What about it calls to you? Or does it blend well with your life?” A series of questions spilled forth, none of which were her business, but she was curious. Since her classical dance days she rarely found herself in the presence of those with a love for the arts, especially those willing to make it their life. His line about beautiful people earned a painfully dull expression, though it was quickly replaced by a smirk. “I suppose I’ll never have to worry about being in one then.” To think he would ever write a song about a random dancer was ridiculously comical- unless her breaking glass had been that impactful in which case she’d be curious to see how he spun it.

Despite instances when she wanted nothing more than to drown him in batter, she was always impressed by how little affected him. Any rebuff was handled as though it were water off a duck's back, unable to faze him. Resting her chin on her palm she grinned. “You won’t have to worry about me. I don’t plan on interfering with your fans.” No greater truth had ever been spoken. “I’m happy to simply…see you in your element.” She imagined it was a more enhanced version of what she witnessed in the club, but figured it best to see with her own eyes. Mention of her schedule earned a raised brow though she didn’t comment on it for sake of triggering her temper once more. “I can do that. What’s the venue?” Questions such as dress code and entry fees went unasked with her guessing she could find it online. “Am I supposed to bring other people?” Considering her lifestyle, she didn’t have too many close friends these days, but could name a few people who would likely say yes to live music.

[rustyparker]

"Electric", Russ answered rightaway, only to backtrack a little bit. "But I can do classical. Only thing is, electric is much louder, you can have much more fun with it." At least in his opinion. Half the fun was in playing his music so loud that everyone in the nearby vicinity was forced to hear it. He was convinced that even the skeptics would come to appreciate it after listening for a while. "And yeah, it's mostly rock but I also do rap music. I write my own stuff, about my life mostly. Shit I go through, you know how it is." He said that a lot, but she probably did know. She was working as a dancer, she'd probably seen some shit. "And I write songs about people too sometimes. Beautiful people." He grinned, hinting at the fact that she may very well end up in one of his songs if she kept rebuffing him. He could already envision a title: She Said No. Over the course of the song, her no would turn into a maybe and by the last chorus, it would have turned into a yes. He almost wished he had brought his notebook. When she asked him whether she'd be seeing him perform solo or with a group, he leaned in a little closer. "It's more special just the two of us, ain't it?", he suggested, his hand briefly touching her lower leg but when he was met with a less than enthusiastic stare, he shrugged.

"But you could come see my group, that'd be dope too. I just can't guarantee that I'll have the time to give your fine self all the attention you deserve... It gets crowded, y'know. We got mad fans." While this might be kind of an overstatement, there were at least a few people in the neighborhood who always came to their shows. He knew it was only a matter of time before their numbers would grow exponentially. Maybe Candy would end up being one of them. "How's next Saturday sound? You get off around 11, right? We don't start 'til midnight anyway." He knew what time she got off work because he'd been here enough times to figure out most of the girls' schedules. Also, he may have asked some of the others. "I guarantee we'll make you wanna dance."

Only one way to find out...His remark resonated in her thoughts despite it's cocky nature. Although, who would Russell be without his defining trait? She couldn't picture it. Hence why her questions suddenly seemed irrelevant because as far as she could tell, he was not a reliable narrator whether for others or himself. In his reflection she saw fragments of individuals she'd known: self involved, present minded, void of responsibility... The sort of person one could truly enjoy themselves with, but only for a short while or else they risked getting pulled into the void with him. A rather harsh judgment, yet in light of her siblings sitting at home, it felt appropriate. Weightless compliments only further fueled her renewed hypothesis. He has a tongue of honey. It's no wonder he performs.

"What kind of guitar do you play?" A blend of curiosity and entrenched habits simmered, attempting to shift the topic away from herself. "One of the girls said your music was...'rock adjacent'." Her nose crinkled as she parroted the phrase, unsure what it meant exactly or if it was even correct. While Rock wasn't a genre she often indulged in, she wasn't opposed to it per say. In her time chaperoning school trips she had grown very accustomed to the subgenre that fed into what teachers had described to her as ' teen angst'. "Would you perform without your group? Or would I be going to a show to see you?" The latter was Marinette's preference; finding solace in the provided air of distance between artist and audience. Any alternative seemed too...intimate.

[rustyparker]

Anyone interested in a reality TV/dating show plot with multiple muses??? Please message me if you are!!!

[rustyparker]

"I got you." It didn't surprise him that she had very specific tastes. Luckily, he had a pretty good memory when it came to remembering drinks. He used to bartend for a while and was actually quite good at it, until he got fired for getting drunk on the job one night. When she expressed that she prefer he didn't dance, Russel laughed. "Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it!" He made no attempt to fight the grin growing on his face when she asked him whether he would be satisfied if she were to dance for him. At last, she seemed to be considering it. Maybe she was warming up to him. "Only one way to find out", he teased. It was true that he'd already received private dances from the other girls. Some of them without paying. And it was also true that he had a habit of getting bored quickly. But he didn't have to put in nearly this much effort with the others to get what he wanted. In fact, Candy had deprived him of her act for such a long time now that he was convinced it must be out of this world. Why else would she be so protective of it? Why would she be so picky about whom she danced for, especially when it was her job? He considered himself no worse than her other clients. In fact, he thought he was more interesting. Most of the clients who requested her seemed to be boring business men but he was a fellow entertainer. If anyone could appreciate her performance, it would be him. "But I'll tell you this...your clients...I've seen the look on those dudes' faces when they come out of that room...they look like they just got high." And he would know, he got high on a regular basis. "I've seen that type of look only at concerts. Speaking of which, you like guitar music?" Sure she did. Everybody did. "You don't gotta see me dance, but I think you'd like my music. You should let me play it for you sometime."

You're not like the other dancers, y'know? You're more raw.

A snort escaped her then. Not like the other dancers? Did he truly believe she would ever believe such obvious nonsense? Hell, had anyone over seventeen? Unfortunately for her- she was nearly certain the answer was a resounding 'yes'. Suppressing an urge to roll her eyes, Marinette instead elected to better gauge him; from the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed to the unmistakable shadow of lust in his gaze at the mere idea of a private dance. Noting the chair in his hand she merely raised a brow in silent question; a biting remark on the tip of her tongue if he dared to suggest she dance for him right now of all times. Instead, however, he sat opposite her and for a moment his words fell on deaf ears. If asked, there were countless times she could recall being in his proximity or feeling his eyes on her, yet in the faux privacy of the dressing room...an inkling of understanding took root. The way he casually lounged and how his piercing gaze seemed wholly focused on her...his allure was plainer than she cared to admit. Still, she found herself comparing him to a fickle flame: one which burned hot yet would inevitably follow the next breeze. "I'd rather you don't dance." If I give him what he wants then he'll likely grow bored and go about his way. A rather unhinged idea, but one she found herself suddenly toying with as snide remarks of her coworkers flitted through her mind. It's worth considering, at least.

Warmth of his fingers pulled her from idle thoughts, light hues falling to where their skin touched before meeting his gaze. Had he ever dared touch her before? Likely so, but she couldn't recall any significance. "...Blackberry and Cucumber Mule." A rather uncommon beverage although the club did carry all the ingredients necessary. "Or a Whiskey Sour with the egg white." Her words were low, a soft lyrical lilt becoming more pronounced as she allowed her 'true' accent to come through. "If I dance for you once my foot is healed- will you be satisfied? Will I become just like the other dancers? Less raw?" Each rephrasing of his tired pick up lines planted a seed of pride in chest, though she didn't show it. Otherwise focused on searching for a semblance of truth in his eyes.

[rustyparker]

"Maybe 'cause we're coupled together? We're supposed to be like a team. I know you were with that Jeremy dude last week, and he was messing with all the other girls at the same time, but I told you I'm tryna be serious. We're only here for a few weeks, I wanna spend more time with you. You're the cutest girl here by far, we have mad fun together." Although part of the reason he was here was the money, he wasn't lying when he said he enjoyed spending time with her. And if they spent too much time interacting with other people, the chance that she would become interested in some other dude would also increase.

open starter : m / f / nb. connection : milani is a reality star on a fictional show similar to l*ve island. your muse is coupled up with her, but she's taking things really slow and is unsure if her connection to them is strong or not.

" we've only been here a few days! listen- i really like you, but that doesn't mean i don't want to venture out and get to know everyone else. i thought you were cool with that. why are you switching up all of the sudden? "

[rustyparker]

The more she snapped at him, the angrier he felt. It felt like she was just rubbing her victory in his face. And besides, he did hate losing. Especially this much money. Half a million. That would have lasted him and his coke habit at least half a year. "You seriously think you're so much fucking smarter than me? You didn't win 'cause you're so smart, you won 'cause half the people in that house wanna get in your pants." He was pretty sure most of the guys in the house had flirted with her at some point, including himself. Some of the girls too. He could never tell whether it was real though. Everything was so fake in that house, people switching on each other at the drop of a hat. "I coulda won, I made it to the top three. Too bad I was stuck with two snakes."

It stung, to think that everyone she was in the house with assumed she was a viper. Yes, Alexis did know how to play a game, but she was also not as conniving or cruel as he seemed to believe. "How about you be honest, you are pissed that someone you underestimated outsmarted you." She said as she felt her hands clench into fist at her sides. "You are a sore loser and clearly you are looking for any reason to be pissed at me." She said wanting to remove herself from the situation. "I never said I was an angel or innocent. Maybe I wasn't totally myself but that how the game works. Get over yourself and back off me." Alex snapped back at him.

[rustyparker]

"Nice excuse! They edit fucking everything. Yeah they do, but you're also a great actress! Everyone in the house said so. You know how to play innocent at the right time." It was true that there were a lot of edits, he'd even seen his own words being twisted a bunch of times. At least he thought so. A lot of the time, he didn't remember exactly what he said. He was too drunk, or high. Things got blurry. And he was never great at filtering himself to begin with. But it was too convenient for her to just push everything on the editing team. "I don't believe you, y'know. I see through you. 'Cause you don't win the show by bein' a nice little angel. You play the game well. Just 'cause you're cute or whatever, people think you mean no harm." Okay, so maybe he was still a bit bitter about not winning. He sure as hell could have used the money.

Sure, Alexis knew that the tape looked damning. But she also knew how easy it was to twist and alter something that someone said. Especially from a producer who wanted to paint the daughter of reality royalty to be just as vindictive as her parents. Alexis knew herself, and she knew this wasn't the truth. "That's what you think of me? I told you I loved your music because I meant that. And I wasn't talking about your last album! I was talking about Katy Perry's! They edit it to make it look like I was talking about yours! But I can't believe I'm even having to explain this to you!" She barked back.

[rustyparker]

"I saw you on tape, Alexis", Rusty scoffed, unimpressed by her innocent act. It hadn't occurred to him that the tape might have been edited. He wasn't thinking about that, because what she said about him was so fucked up that his first reaction was simply one of anger. "You're such a fucking snake! Kissing my ass half the time saying how you love my music and then you go and talk shit about my last album behind my back. ON TELEVISION." It had been a while since the episode was filmed, but he only got to see it recently.

open: anyone 21+ muse: Alexis, 23, she/her, bisexual, influencer/reality tv star connection: friend, ex, fling, up to you

Alexis, who was very rarely ever described as serious and quiet was unable to think of what to say in this moment. She blinked at them as she tried to come up with words.

"I'm your biggest fan. I think you're perfect." She said simply. Her stomach twisted as the realization of what was happening set in. "Do you really believe I'd say something like that?"

[rustyparker]

Russ watched as she removed the tiniest shards of glass from her skin and tied up her own bleeding foot, mildly impressed by her swiftness. He wasn't lying about this happening to him one time, but he definitely didn't clean it up that well. There was still a small scar actually, or at least there would be if he hadn't tattooed over it. He wondered if she had any tattoos. If she did, they had to be either on her inner thighs, around her nipples or her lower belly. He had seen everything else by now, he was pretty sure. The outfits she wore around the club were quite revealing at times. She seemed to enjoy showing off her legs almost as much as he enjoyed looking at them. What he wouldn't give to get a private dance from those legs...but he would. He was sure of it. She didn't seem super interested in his money, but that didn't mean it was out of the question - he just needed to find what it was that she wanted. If only she'd be more easy to read...

"I told you why. I like you. You're not like the other dancers, y'know? You're more raw." He was only half bullshitting. He may have used that line before, or something similar to it, but it didn't make it untrue. She definitely kept her distance from him since the beginning and she was the only one out of the girls who did. There was absolutely no better way to get his attention. When she suggested that learning her real name might ruin the illusion for him, he laughed. "Are you kidding? Baby, you're talking to an artist! 'Course I know most of this shit is smoke and mirrors. But you put on a damn good show...I bet it's even better in private." A hint of lust flickered across his eyes as he pulled up a chair and sat down across from her. He leaned forward, resting his arms against the backwards facing seat and supporting his chin with his arms as he stared at her. "What I gotta do for you to give me one of those private shows, huh?" His eyes narrowed and his smirk widened simultaneously. "I can return the favor if you want." He was not a great dancer but he did know how to perform and he was sure that if he could get her to listen to one of his songs, she would be impressed. He was good. He hadn't made it big yet, but he was good. Everybody he knew who knew anything about music would say the same. "At least tell me what drink I should get you next time", he bargained, reaching out and lightly touching her arm. He was testing her a little bit. Because for all of her avoidant behavior, he couldn't imagine she really wasn't into him. She was probably just worried about getting played or looking easy.

Dull remnants of rhythmic bass echoed off stark walls, familiar beats lulling her into a sense of sanctuary amongst an endless sea of reflective make-up stations. Harsh fluorescent lights she used to loath now proved a gift, allowing her to inspect her wound quite easily. From what she could tell, it appeared there were three shards; one large and two smaller ones, all of which weren’t fully embedded despite her walking around. “Thank goodness…” Murmuring to herself she cast a quick glance around in search of a first aid kit. “There must be one in here, no?” But then again, would it be all that surprising to think Charles had cut a corner of two? Not at all. 

Candy, Candice, Candra…

Marinette was certain if she were ever in a coma, hearing that unmistakable voice would wake her in an instant. “He wouldn’t.” Yet even as the words slipped free she knew better. He would. In the next instant he was entering her safe space and all she could do was stare, awestruck. In a way he reminded her of those cereal mascots in commercials- always chipper and never discouraged. Ignoring his question, light hues narrowed at the sight of beverages. Didn’t I tell him to buy the others drinks? Sighing internally she didn’t spare a single word until she spotted the elusive first aid kit. “Ah! Merci!” A genuine smile graced her features then as she plucked the box from his grasp. While the kit was far from fully stocked, it had everything she needed. “I can tie them, thank you.” 

For several moments she fell into a comfortable silence, meticulously removing any remaining shards from her foot. Once certain there were none remaining she began applying rubbing alcohol to the wounds. A low hiss escaped her with every dab, her nose wrinkling against the piercing sting. Easing a soft breath she peaked up at him then, residual anger fading with each new wave of pain. “Why do you want to know my real name so badly?” It was something she had been curious about for a while now. “Wouldn’t it ruin the illusion for you? Make me…real?” In her experience, most patrons were far from interested in learning about anything beyond the dancers’ personas. Then there was Russell Parker- an enigma of the highest order. “Or you could just give me a ‘real’ name you like.” A reference to something she had witnessed a few times; where patrons sometimes created their own nicknames for dancers they were perhaps a bit too fond of. Once her foot was thoroughly cleaned she left it alone to breathe. Despite how she felt about Russell’s sheer disregard for boundaries she caught her attention flickering to the spare cocktail before she finally indulged in a sip. “Whoever told you this was my favorite drink, lied to you.” Still, she took another sip nonetheless.

[rustyparker]

☆ Headcanon Prompts ☆          Love and Romance

💔 = Has your muse ever been heartbroken? If so, explain what happened. 

🌹 = How would your muse react to romantic gestures, expected or not? 

🌷 = Is your muse likely to be the one to make the first move, or would they wait for the other to make a move first? 

🎁 = Does your muse become flattered to receive gifts? 

😍 = Does your muse have any crushes? If so, who are they? 

😘 = Does your muse like to flirt? Do they like to be flirted with? 

❤️ = Does your muse focus on one person, or do they like to go and date as many people as possible?

💛 = In what ways does your muse express their love to their partner? 

💚 = Does your muse get jealous easy? 

💙 = Does your muse prefer a night out or a night in? 

💜 = Does your muse date others based on their appearance or personality, or both? 

♡ = Is there any kind of person that your muse will never date? 

💞 = Does your muse believe in soulmates? 

💘 = Does your muse believe in astrology signs? If so, what sign are they most compatible with? And is this important when considering a date? 

💗 = Would your muse prefer a large, public proposal, or do they prefer a small, private one? 

💵 = Is money an important factor to consider when dating? Does your muse prefer rich partners? 

💎 = What kind of gemstone would your muse prefer on their engagement or wedding ring? 

💍 = Big or small wedding? 

💅🏻 = Does your muse always try to look their best around their partner, or are they comfortable wearing anything around them?

[rustyparker]

You want to make it up to me? It would take longer than a night.

What, like two nights? A week? He was tempted to ask, but she seemed so irritated that he decided against it for now. It didn't matter anyway, she was basically saying he could make it up to her, it would just take a while. That was a pain in the ass but it was fine, he had plenty of time. And he was here several nights a week. Before he had a chance to respond, Candy was telling Spice to take her slot tonight and then limping off to the dressing room. God, even when she was limping she was hot. She just knew how to move in those heels and make it look good, it seemed to not matter that she had a piece of glass stuck in her foot. A true performer, right there. He could tell, he was one too. Maybe they didn't exactly do the same kinda performances but hey, she sure as hell knew how to draw a crowd.

"Damn...", he sighed, still standing in the hallway next to Spice. While he watched Candy disappear into the dressing room, he rolled himself a blunt and shifted his attention to her friend for a moment. "She's pissed, huh?", he chuckled, lighting up his blunt and taking a fat huff. "D'you see that look she gave me? I think she likes me though." With a small gesture of his hand he offered her a hit of his blunt. Spice was pretty cool, and it'd be rude not to share. "Ay, she's your friend right? Lemme ask you something...what kinda guys she into?" He had seen her interact with some of the clients here and while she was charming, there always seemed to be a certain distance between her and them. It wasn't the case with most of the other girls, even Spice he'd become friendly with quite easily. But Candy, for whatever reason, always kept him at an arm's length. When he noticed Spice's hesitation, he shook his head, briefly touching her waist. "You don't wanna talk shit about your friend, right? I get it. Nevermind, don't worry about it. It's cool. I'll go find out for myself. Here, you can have this", he grinned at her, handing over his blunt before he strolled right past her and back to the bar. After ordering two more drinks, as well as the first aid-kit from the bathroom, he made his way towards the dressing room. Maybe he wasn't technically supposed to be in there, but he'd spent too much money at this place to give a fuck about which rooms he wasn't allowed to enter. "Candy, Candice, Candra...", he called out in a slow, sing-songy voice as he gave a knock on the door. He didn't wait for her to answer it, pushing the door open with his knee. "When you gonna tell me your real name?" He stepped inside, holding the two cocktail glasses in his hands up high in the air. "Got your favorite drink. Will you talk to me now, sil-vous-plait? I'm kidding...I got you this, too", he put down the drinks, offering her the first aid kit tucked under his arm. "For your foot. I think there's some bandages in there, you know how to tie 'em? I can do it if you want. I remember that shit happened to me once, glass in my foot, it hurt like a bitch."

Any semblance of reprieve in those initial steps vanished in an instant, Russell’s voice furthering an unrelenting presence. Don’t tell me how to act. I don’t care if you were joking- everything is a joke for you. You do not like me...A flood of retorts she didn’t dare say aloud, her gaze focused on the dressing room door. Is that supposed to be a compliment? Regardless, Marinette knew she’d receive shit for his careless words sooner than later.

For better or worse, Russell was far from an uncommon topic in the dressing room. Often a pivotal character in some sort of party shenanigans- though she rarely heard any complaints. On the few occasions her name had been added to fray; there tended to be a common thread; how she seemed to be "playing hard to get" with him. A notion she found hilarious especially now considering the commotion she'd caused.

The door was nearly in reach when Spice suddenly eased their pace, casting her a sympathetic look. In return Marinette offered silent outrage: Really? For HIM? Perhaps she needed to start copying his mannerisms- it clearly won him most things. With no allies, she resigned herself to perch against the wall, arms crossing over her chest as she focused on nothing in particular. A solid enough tactic until he tried his hand at humor. Gods help me. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, waiting to exhale before looking at him. Rejection was imminent, with her only allowing him to finish out of common courtesy.

Then he spoke French.

"Oui?" In a way she was impressed; both in him remembering any French and being cunning enough to use it on her. A part of her felt as though she was giving him too much credit, doubting he thought much of it, which somehow irritated her further. "That's the point Russell. You want to make it up to me? It would take longer than a night and who can say you'll even remember this come morning? That it won't just be another haze for you where 'what happened, happened'?" She gave him a once over then, a small shake of her head answering questions left unsaid. "So as much as I would love to stay and chat with you, I have to go pull glass from my foot." Marinette feigned a sweet smile, wary of drawing anymore attention. "So I'll be a bit busy, but feel free to buy the girls a round of drinks. They deserve it."

With that she turned to Spice. "Take my slot tonight. I won't be able to dance anyway." Or tomorrow for that matter. Their manager, Charles, was not a fan of injured dancers whether a bruise or a cut- unless makeup could mask it and even then he often decided on a whim. Marinette figured her best bet would be to swap to the bar for the next few nights; if Charles agreed.

"O-okay." Spice nodded. "Do you need help?"

"Absolutely not." Pushing off the wall she hobbled the final few feet to the dressing room, finally slipping inside. At this hour there it was practically empty, most dancers already working the floor leaving her to settle on a bench in relative peace.

[rustyparker]

"I dunno, maybe I woulda played along", he shrugged, an amused grin spreading across his face. He didn't really feel offended by her words, maybe because he was a little high right now. He found them more funny than offensive. Everything was more funny when he was high. But she did seem angry, so he tried his best not to say anything that might piss her off even further. Unfortunately, he had never been great at that. "Hell, you prolly woulda had a point! I can appreciate a good roast if it's done well." Wrong word choice, it seemed, because the expression on her face didn't look any brighter. Then Spice appeared out of nowhere to inform her that she was bleeding - something he hadn't even noticed until she said it - and his face fell a little bit. "Oh, shit", he grimaced as his gaze wandered lower, down to the blood that was drying up on her foot. "Are you good?" No answer, outlook bleak. The moment she looked back at him, telling him that he ought to pretend as though she didn't exist, he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Was she really that upset? It was really just some bullshit to him. He was an entertainer - small lies were par for the course. As she began to walk off with Spice on her arm, he abandoned his post and followed after them, a sudden determination seemingly coming over him. "Don't be like that. Are you serious? Look, I was really just fucking around. I didn't mean it. And you know I like you, I think you're the most interesting girl here." It was true, he did think that. Okay, so maybe it had to do with the fact that she had refused to service him several times but she was also kinda mysterious and he liked a little bit of mystery. Getting rejected also wasn't something he encountered a lot, at least not for such a long time. Even Spice, who initially seemed annoyed by him, had changed her tune after a while and they ended up having fun together. Maybe they didn't have sex, but she did dance for him and they smoked together and made out a few times. He had built some decent rapport with her but with Candy, it seemed like for some reason she was harder to get to and that just made her more intriguing. "Shit...hey! Hold up, hold up, Spice, let me talk to her", he rushed forward to address Spice now, knowing that she was a lot more likely to give him a break. When she slowed down her step, he addressed Candy once again.

"Just listen, okay? I'm really sorry. It was a dumb joke, I'm kinda messed up tonight, it's a problem, trust me I know. But I'm working on that. Anyway, I didn't mean to fuck up your night or nothing. And I definitely ain't gonna pretend you don't exist. You're way too fine for that. Hell, why do you think I'm out here lying my ass off? You gotta let a guy dream sometimes", he joked, but quickly returned to his more serious tone when he realized the joke wasn't landing. "Lemme make it up to you. How about...how about I buy you and your lovely friend Spice a round of drinks, and we can talk about what I can do to make amends. Sound good, oui?"

Continued from here.

for: @rustyparker

...

Light hues never wavered from his, even when she he rose to full height and she had to tilt her head back. At just over 5'5" herself, he practically loomed overhead, yet she remained unmoved. If he thought for even a moment that just because he was a tree he could diffuse this situation easily, he was sorely mistaken. Marinette had no qualms climbing him and smacking him sober. And then there he was, attempting to serve her a fast food apology as though his face alone was enough to sell it. "Do I look like I care whether your sorry excuse for friends will remember this!?" She didn't even spare them a glance. "It's the fact you said it! And don't pretend you were joking. Would it be a joke if I said: Of course he fucked me! He'll sleep with anything. Hell! He'll be too high to notice whether he's sticking it in you or your thighs! Ha-ha! How funny am I!?"

“Candy…” Ellie; better known as Spice, tentatively called her name amidst a sea of onlookers.

“Yes?”

“You’re bleeding.”

A flicker of confusion crossed her features, brows knitting ever so softly. Bleeding? In her adrenalize fueled haze she felt little more than a pin prick of pain. One glance down, however, revealed stains of crimson trailing her leg. “Merde.” With a shift of her weight she tensed, a wince caught in her throat as a shard pierced through flimsy heels into her foot. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she persisted, forcing her attention back to Russell. "From this moment on, I do not exist to you." Slow breaths punctuated each word. "If you see me or hear me- no you didn’t. Do not talk to me, do not look at me, and for the love of your music- do not ever mention me again." Only then she finally retreat, taking Ellie's arm for support on the fastest route to the dressing rooms

[rustyparker]

Some of the color drained from his face when he heard the sound of breaking glass, followed by Candy's voice, loud and brash and grating to a musician's ears. He turned around to look her in the face - oh shit. She was pissed. He'd seen her annoyed before but not this pissed off. It looked kinda hot on her, actually. But he clearly told this story at the wrong moment. "I-", he started, only to be interrupted by a barrage of french. That made him laugh a little bit. She probably had a mad roast somewhere in there but he would need a goddamn translator. He got up, ignoring the group of 'friends' who were now snickering amongst themselves, they were all too fascinated by this scene. "Jesus Christ, fuckin' relax I don't understand what the fuck you're saying", Russ interjected after the second or third insult - he was pretty sure that's what they were. "Did you just call me something? Guys, I think she just called me an asshole", he addressed the group for a brief moment, but kept his eyes on her.

"Aight, I guess I deserved that..." While he didn't think his transgression was very grave, he could kinda see why she was upset. After all, it wasn't really a true story. He had tried to get into her pants, but she was very good at brushing off his advances so far. "I'm sorry, alright? I was just kidding around. C'mon, you know they're not even gonna remember this shit tomorrow", he chuckled as he gestured towards his wasted friends. Hell, depending on how the rest of the night would go, he might not even remember this shit tomorrow. "Your reputation's safe, don't worry."

It was akin to watching a tragic comedy, listening as the infantile prince regaled a tale of his own creation to a faceless crowd of giggling men. With every few words her grip on their tray of drinks tightened, the slight clinking of glasses falling on deaf ears. Ignore him. Let it go. You can let it- 

She let me hit that shit raw!

“Have you lost your fucking sense?!” In an instant the tray was cast aside, glasses crashing against the wall. Once pounding music went silent, but she barely noticed, glass shards cracking beneath deliberate steps. “You want to sleep around, Russell? Fine. You want to take drugs? Go ahead. You want to come to strip club every night? Have a blast for all I care. But you want to lie and say I gave you the gift of sleeping with me!?” A short laugh escaped her then, Marinette forcing her hand into a fist to keep from smacking him clear across his face. “Je préfère me laver les yeux avec de l'eau de Javel et manger des balanes pour le reste de mes jours plutôt que de te laisser me toucher. T'es pitoyable. Et j'ai entendu des histoires sur tes talents au lit. Ça n'a pas l'air très encourageant- t'es probablement trop défoncé pour remarquer le plaisir de quelqu'un d'autre que le tien.” Nearby snickers earned a fleeting glare before she turned back to their dunce of a leader. “Con.”

[rustyparker]

Russ seemed unfazed by Serena's coughing. He had a golden rule - never make fun of anyone trying to have a good time. He didn't remember his first blunt, it had been such a long time and he'd smoked so much shit since then but if he had to take a guess, it probably wouldn't have looked much different. All he remembered was that he was in a bad state at the time, trying to find something that would pick him back up. "Don't sweat it. But you're right, I do prefer blunts. Y'know why?" He paused, grinning from ear to ear. "I know you're gonna say it's 'cause they're cheaper and I ain't about to disagree with you but they're also more raw, don't you think? Easier to carry around too." He took another drag, blowing out a small circle of smoke. "Want me to teach you how to do that?" It was one of the many skills he'd acquired over the years that were fun, but useless on a job resume.

Serena pulled her legs up beneath her, curling into the couch as her own eyes were pulled to the screen. "I've seen Dude Where's My Car more times than I can count," she laughs, nodding at his suggestion, "Friday sounds funny, let's do that." knowing it was already playing. In her experience, Russ wasn't one to waste time. He enjoyed doing what he liked, and that was refreshing for Serena who was always surrounded by individuals who do what they feel they need to do.

Taking the blunt from him, she takes a deep drag and lets out a cough, an embarrassed smile overcoming her face. "Sorry, I'm still a little bitch when it comes to blunts." She motions to the purple bong sitting next to the TV "--I normally use glass, but I thought I remembered that you prefer blunts."

[rustyparker]

Hi, welcome to my RP blog!

If you want to write with me, feel free to either shoot me a message, like one of my starter calls or simply reply to one of my open starters. I also enjoy plotting, so I’m always open for that. It doesn’t matter if we’re mutuals or not, everyone is welcome!

Warning: 18+ only. This blog will contain the subject of drug use/drug abuse.

Here are some quick links: Rules | About | Wanted plots | Open starters

[rustyparker]

ABOUT (MOBILE)

Full name: Russell Parker Alias(es): Russ, Rusty Age: 26-28 (verse dependent) Ethnicity: Caucasian Sexual orientation: Heterosexual Marital status: Unattached (verse dependent) Nationality: American Occupation: Musician Religion: N/A Education: Highschool dropout Height: 6'4" / 196cm Scars: Just a few cigarette burns  Build: Slim Tattoos / piercings: Too many to count Notable physical traits: Bleached hair Positive traits: Creative, charismatic, adventurous, easygoing Negative traits: Unreliable, selfish, prone to addiction, impulsive

Biography

Russell grew up as an orphan in the foster care system, moving from home to home until he ran away from one of his foster homes. At the tender age of sixteen, he joined a street gang but this didn't last long. However, his involvement with the gang and the drug use associated with it left a black mark on his permanent record. Over the years he's developed an addiction to drugs, alcohol and sex, and that is also where most of his money goes. Through sheer luck, he's managed to avoid prison and scrape by through selling some of his music. He often writes and even performs songs about a past girlfriend whom he regrets treating badly, but no one knows what her name is, leading people in his modest fanbase to speculate about her identity or whether she's even real.

[rustyparker]

RULES (MOBILE)

Formatting is not required, I use small text and gifs most of the time but you are not obligated to do the same. Thread length doesn’t matter to me, from short to para/novella threads, all is fine with me! If I do not respond in a timely manner, please don’t assume you’ve done something wrong. Feel free to remind me of my reply.

I like to come up with plots beforehand so I have something to go on. This one is not really a rule because I’m flexible when it comes to this and I’ll answer or write random starters too.

NSFW AND SHIPPING

I write smut but it is not a requirement. This is not a smut-focused blog. Mun is over 25 years old and will not smut with minors.

If you want to ship our muses, tell me! I’ll ship my character if there is chemistry and they are above 18. I mean it, I will not ship with you if your character isn’t at least 18 years old. This blog is multiship and doesn’t force ships on anyone. If my muse develops feelings towards yours, you are in no way obligated to write your muse in a way that reciprocates those. I am perfectly fine with unrequited romance threads.

TRIGGERS

There are a few things I refuse to write about: bestiality, paedophilia, urophilia, scatophilia, animal abuse.

Lastly, I try to tag everything that could potentially be triggering to others but if something slips through the cracks, let me know!