#i dug through my camera roll and found a shirtless man

[applesfallingfromblondehair]

(x)

[monochromemedic]

The amount it took me to write this while my mind was blanking is astonishing.  So take this shit story.

Ever since a strange accident involving the Black Dragon, an artifact called the Shatter Dagger and me; I’ve been shoved into the hell that was the world of kombat. I’ve been training with Earthrealm forces, trying to save my world from all sorts of bullshit I couldn’t imagine in my wildest dreams. Not to mention my own personal struggles dealing with the fact that if I wanted too I could create that Omen scene with the glass pane at anytime on anyone. Sure it was cool but it hasn’t been exactly easy to say the least. Hell, It’s been down right torturous at times. But even then I’ve manage to crawl out of bed every day, work my ass off with people 10 times more talented and experienced then me, and go back to sleep just to do the same thing in the morning. I mean that weird dagger chose me to be a warrior for some reason... so either that thing was wrong and the placebo effect is real  or there really is something more to me then a shy, chubby idiot that can barely talk to a cashier. Not like I could go back to normal life now, my life was different. I was sought after for what was in me, what I could do. If I didn’t learn to fight, everyone I knew and loved would be killed at the hands of anyone that wanted to get what was inside of me. And there happened was a lot of those as of late. But I had to admit, even through all the weird shit that i’d been through, I didn’t expect being at the filming of a new movie to be a ‘strategic move’. I mean that’s what Sonya called it, but I think she just wanted someone to look after Johnny while he was away. Not that anyone would go after him but, it never hurt to be cautious now adays. Outworld was getting bolder, looking for openings to take down the people they saw as threats and weirdly enough, Johnny was one of them. Just one at the bottom of the list. A low priority target. So why not send a low priority person just incase shit hit the fan. Hell if something did happen back at home, two people that weren’t much of a threat in the enemies eyes wouldn’t be a total lost. They still had hard hitters to protect what was important. I would’ve been more heartbroken knowing I was basically a crisp 5 bucks on Outworld’s most wanted list, but I was 20 feet away from like 4 major celebrities, and sitting in one of those fancy actor chairs with Johnny’s name stitched in it. I wasn’t too torn. “Excuse me, miss. Who are you?” One of the runner’s asked, a nervous look on his face. “People don’t seem to recognize you, and I just want to make sure you’re suppose to be here.” I paused, panic beginning to rise in me before remembering what Johnny told me to say. “I’m Mr. Cage’s plus one.” I dug in one of my pockets and pulled out a belt buckle with Johnny’s last name on it. “He said this should be proof enough.” “Ah... yeah.” He took a pause, observing the very gaudy engraved buckle, “ I’ll inform security then. They were getting a bit antsy.” The runner stumbled off without another word towards a large, menacing man blocking a door, whispering something to him before being called elsewhere on set. The large security man rolled his neck and nodded towards my direction, picking up his walkie-talkie to talk to presumably, the other security members. I turned back around, sinking into the rather uncomfortable chair. So glad to know that I was just mere inches away from being beaten to death by security and the only thing that made them stop was some belt buckle worth more then my life. “How’s my favorite Glass Slipper handling Hollywood?” A familiar voice rang out from the dark corner of the set. I turned my head and watched as a rather oiled up, shirtless Cage bounded over, a half drunken cup of iced coffee in hand. “Did you show them the belt?” “Yeah they were 2 minutes away from throwing me out so... “ I paused, staring at his chest for a few seconds. “You... look like someone dipped you in a fast food grease trap.” “Yeah, the audience goes crazy for oiled up guys. When the lights hit your body and the camera catches the glare just right? Cinema gold baby. You don’t wanna know how many fancams are just me drenched in baby oil and fake blood.” He gave a flex of his bicep before grinning wide. “Hell you seem like the type to make those things. You a secret fan?” I raised an eyebrow as I got up from the chair, cheeks staining pink. “No, I’ve probably only seen about 3 or 4 of your movies.” “Makes sense why your not freaking out more. You’re in the lap of luxury! Do you know how many people would kill to be where you are? Not the glass stuff... I mean here on a movie set, next to me, next to other actors! You’re gonna be watching the next big blockbuster in the flesh!” “I... I mean I am freaking out. This is alot I’m just not fangirling. I’m more just... alert.” I muttered, beginning to trail off as Johnny grabbed the script from under his chair, muttering to himself softly about ‘not respecting the art’ or something akin. Johnny was interesting to say the least. An actor turned fighter for Earthrealm all because of a misunderstanding. Even when he found out that it was a fight between realms and not just some fighting tournament that was way too into roleplaying, he stayed, finding out in the process that he had been from a long line of warriors with powers. And even though all of that happened he was still... him. Cocky, rude, arrogant. You’d think that something that life changing would... well change you but not Johnny. Ever since, everyone’s just sort of put up with him and his antics, even though I could see how close they were to decking him the face when he spoke. Most of the time, I was one of them but other times I could see something else in him, something more besides the douchebag he presented himself as. How suddenly nice he could get, how protective, serious. But those moments were few and far in between, especially when they were paired with moments like this. “Can you hand me a highlighter? Just over by the food table.”  I nodded, getting up and avoiding people with large bulky equipment that would easily put me into debt if I even thought of scratching it. I came back, handing the highlighter to the man. “Here you go Mr. Cage.” He raised an eyebrow as he grabbed the highlighter, a small laugh leaving his lips. “Mr. Cage? What are you my agent? You can call me Handsome, Sexy... really any adjective to describe a really good looking guy, Adonis maybe?” I could feel my cheeks get brighter, unsure if he was flirting with me or just trying to boost his own ego. What was I talking about, he wouldn’t flirt with someone like me. It was just him being an ass!  I turned my face away from him, beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable the longer I stood there. “Oh come on, that was funny! Don’t get your panties in a twist.” “A...are you serious? My panties in a twist? I’m not going to call you those things, especially here, someplace I’m not comfortable in!” I hissed under my breath as a passerby gave us a questionable look. ”Why? I’ve been called way dirtier things on and off the stage. These people are all use to it! I think that boom operator has even seen me get hot and heavy with a few actresses between takes. Honestly, I’m just trying to help you out, make you fit in with the crowd instead of looking like a little lost puppy like you always do, Hon.” He huffed, lowering the script on to his lap to highlight a few of his lines. His eyes didn’t meet mine once as he spoke, more focused on the movie then the insults and remarks he was slinging at me. “W-What the hell is wrong with you! Do you talk to everyone this way or just the people you see lower then yourself?”  “Trust me you aren’t as special as you think you are.” I felt a pin drop in my stomach as he spoke, a rage boiling deep inside of me that I had suppressed for far too long. I was never confrontational, always avoided verbal arguments if I could but having to deal with seeing him do this to everyone, to do it to me when I saw something in him. In a place surrounded by celebrities, by people who worked for him, in a place I felt like I didn’t belong. It felt like one straw too many for the camel’s back.  ”I can’t believe I ever saw something deeper to you then some shallow fuckboy with an ego the size of Mt. Everest!” I snapped, my voice echoing around the suddenly still sound stage. Even with the rest of the crews eyes now on us, Cage didn’t look up. Didn’t even flinch from what he was doing. His only response was a slow lowering of the marker in his hand as the eyes of hundreds of workers bore into my soul.  I couldn’t stand it. I dipped my head away, walking past the security guard that blocked the sound stage door to the outside. No one tried to stop me, to slow me down. Even before I reached the door I could hear them all return to what they were doing, like it was a normal occurrence there. I suppose it probably was when it came to people like him. Didn’t make it hurt any less though, to find out I was just another person on the long list of people he upset. I paced in circles outside the door, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. If I went back in there I knew I’d be stared down, both by Johnny and the movie crew, but if I stayed out here it could be just as bad. Besides wasn’t I suppose to be watching him? Suppose to have his back in case of any danger? Hell even if I hated his guts I wasn’t so petty to leave the guy in a dangerous situation where he could get killed. Or I could get killed. Not like I had a ride, I’d be walking the streets of Hollywood like an idiot. No map, no money. It was dog eat dog world out here even if there wasn’t dangerous mercenaries wanting to rip me to shreds. As I turned around for the umpteenth time, my eyes caught something at the other end of the building, something familiar slipping through the door frame before being blocked by the large metal door. I stopped in my tracks, face furrowing as I tried to piece together where I remembered that kinda clothing, that face. Big boots, something like knives strapped to his body, shaved head. I felt a chill run down my body as it finally clicked, the words of Sonya echoing in my head. ‘See this guy? I’ve been tracking this piece of human garbage for a while. He goes by the name Kano, and he’s the head of the Black Dragons, the same ones that brought that artifact to Earthrealm that changed you. If you ever see him, run. He plays dirty and even if you think you have a chance, you aren’t because he’s got a squadron of goons not far behind.’ “Johnny...” Without thinking I ripped the door open, sprinting into the sound stage only to be confronted with my worse fear. The crimson spray of blood from Cage’s mouth splattered across his body, droplets falling to the floor as Kano readied another punch.  “Johnny! No!” My voice was shrill, and harsh, as I ran towards the enemy, the one I was told to run away from. All to save some ass I told not 10 minutes ago that I saw no good in. As I closed in, I readied a punch, aiming for the cybernetic eye to hopefully bash in with a single decisive strike. I didn’t need to beat him, I didn’t need to win. All I needed was a small advantage for me to get Cage out of danger. My fist was stopped by Johnny’s hand, his face frantic as he stepped into my sight. “ACTING. ACTING, WE’RE ACTORS. LITERALLY ON A SOUND STAGE. DON’T DECK THE GUY TRYING TO GET A PAY CHECK!” “W-what? No that’s- your-” “Blood capsules. Fake blood.” He hissed, letting go of his tight grip on my hand to wipe the red dye from his face. “And that guy, isn’t Kano. He’s a guy I made the director add to movie BASED on Kano.” I felt my hand fall to my waist, turning to face the surprised actor I was mere seconds away from decking. My embarrassment flooded my body, stumbling back a few steps before the director began to scream from off set. “What the hell is going on?! This crazy broad walking on set, nearly hitting my stars, Johnny, baby, what the hell are you bringing to my set? Ya know I thought this bitch would be way more calm the the usual models you bring here but at least those don’t do this shit!”  The older man got up from his chair, megaphone in hand as he approached the actor. The rage emanating from him was palpable, making the air heavy and thick. I moved closer to Johnny, shamefully looking to the actor for guidance. I saw his eyes flicker down to me before giving a cocky look to the old man. “Excuse me? Are you... questioning the people I bring here? Me. Johnny FREAKING Cage? Award winning actor, multi box office record setting STAR... of who he brings on the set? Do you WANT a goddamn strike?” The director’s tone completely flipped at the boisterous words, slinking back into the shadows of the set. “Johnny, baby please-” he began. “Don’t you BABY me. You know my name!” “M..mr. Cage.” “That’s right. And you will address me as such as long as you wanna keep feeding that family of yours with this fat paycheck your getting from working with ME. So you keep your mouth shut about whoever the hell I bring here. I’ll bring a fucking live tiger if I damn well please and you just point your stupid little megaphone, give a big bright smile, and play along. GOT IT?” “Y...yes sir, Mr. Cage. Of course.” Johnny flashed a smile to the rest of the crew as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pushing me into his chest. “Now how about you all give my friend Jenna, a great big ‘Sorry’ and we can get back to working huh? Come on don’t be shy! ‘Sorry~ ‘come on, SAY IT!” He screamed, face turning red as the sound stage went hush. Slowly but surely a wave of monotone, ‘Sorry, Jenna’ erupted from the darkness of the sound set, culminating in the most unenthusiastic, forced apology from a group of grown ups I’d ever heard. It if wasn’t for the fact I could see them, I could of sworn that these were elementary school kids being yelled at by a principal for being too loud at lunch time. Johnny’s arm gave me a small reaffirming shake as he turned me toward him, a lip curled in smug pride. “There, ain’t that just the best medicine?” “What are you doing?” I whispered, hand going to touch his still oily chest. “It’s called acting. I figured if I’m the asshole, no one will shift the blame on you and the fact you just tried to bitch slap a B-list actor. After all if I’m a prick, might as well play the part.” He whispered back, giving a quick wink toward me as he patted my back. “Also, you called me Johnny. I gotta admit, that’s got a nice ring to it.” He placed another small pat to the small of my back and led me back toward his chair, giving the stink eye to a few people that glanced in our direction. “So. How bout we take it from square one huh? Come on, let’s get going people, hustle hustle, hustle! I ain’t getting any prettier! ” He began to clap his hands feverously causing the others to begin to run around for another take of the scene. As I reclined in the chair, watching the chaos beginning to start up, I couldn’t help but overhear people begin to bitch under their breath about how much of an ass Johnny was, completely forgetting about what just happened with me. At least Johnny was right about what would happen, making himself the target to absorb the hate. Who would care about some no name when everyone could tell their friends and family how shitty a guy Cage was for bringing the girl in the first place and acting like it was no big deal after all? He wasn’t an idiot, he used his arrogant nature to play people like a fiddle and people were none the wiser. All except for me, who saw the kindness break through the mask. Maybe I was too cruel, or maybe he was just doing it to prove he wasn’t a complete jackass to me. Either way, I was grateful. He didn’t need to do that, but he still did, much like most of things that happened with him.  I watched a makeup artist clean the blood off of Johnny’s chest, reapplying any patches of oil or foundation that had been ruined by the fake blood. Our eyes met from across the stage and with a cocky grin he flexed an arm, throwing a finger gun at me before barking an order at the makeup artist to further reassure his status of a dick. Jeopardizing his status in his inner circle all to make me feel better. What a guy.

[emospritelet]

Manifesto prompt : dat handshake in front of press.

I’m really enjoying writing these two. Happy to take more prompts!

[AO3]

x

Belle was nervous, and irritated with herself because of it.

She told herself there was no need; whatever came of the evening she had already made her point. News programmes were covering the story; the BBC and Sky had already started running pieces on the state of local authority funding and municipal libraries, and the clip of her confronting the Prime Minister was all over social media. It was likely that the next day’s headlines would provide more coverage, and she was pleased that the news outlets were talking about the issues that affected real people in real towns, rather than the usual infighting at Westminster. She was aware that it was probably too late to save Avonleigh’s library, but while there was a glimmer of hope, she was determined to keep fighting.

To that end, she used the little time she had before book club to dig out the research she had been doing when trying to plead for the library’s continued funding. Everything was still in the colour-coded binder she had put together for one of her many meetings with the Council. She even had the presentation she had designed, prompts on a handful of cards to accompany the Powerpoint slides saved on a memory stick, although she very much doubted the Prime Minister would want to see it.

Belle thought she would have difficulty concentrating in the book club, but given that the members were more interested in talking about her impromptu television appearance than about Little Women, it didn’t really matter. Merida even showed her a YouTube video of her rant, edited to include captions of what Sutherland was allegedly feeling at the time. Which seemed to alternate between being outraged and turned on. The other club members thought it was hilarious.

“You’re my hero,” said Leroy, grinning at her above his bristling black beard. “Look at Sutherland’s face! I’m willing to bet no one ever talks to him like that.”

Leroy was short and stocky, a gruff hospital porter with a heart of gold and a secret, burning love for Astrid, the pretty nurse who worked shifts and could only attend book club every other week. He always looked around for her eagerly whenever he arrived, and the look of disappointment on his face when she wasn’t there made Belle’s heart melt. 

“Gave it to him with both bloody barrels!” chuckled Merida, tossing fiery red curls over her shoulder. “Serve the bastard right! Like he has the slightest clue what goes on in towns like this! Bloody London elite! They’re all the same!”

“He’s Scottish,” Belle pointed out, and she sniffed.

“Yeah, but he’s posh Scottish. They’re a breed apart, Belle, you mark my words. Plus he’s an MP. They go down to the House of Commons and check their morals at the door.”

“They can’t all be like that,” said Belle, wondering why the hell she was defending politicians when she had spent years cursing them out.

“Maybe not all of ‘em,” acknowledged Merida. “But our MP definitely is. Bloody Leopold White. When was the last time you saw the bastard in this town?”

“Last election,” said Leroy. “Came to the hospital and got in the damn way. Bet he does the same thing this year.”

Merida snorted, shifting in her seat.

“Someone should unseat the bastard,” she said, and her eyes widened. “Hey, Belle! You should run!”

Belle sighed.

“I have zero interest in running for Parliament,” she said. “I just want to save the library, and I probably won’t even be able to do that! In two months’ time I’ll be out of a job!”

“Just keep the pressure up,” said Merida. “They’ll have to do something, it’s all over the news!”

“Yeah, and in a few days’ time, they’ll have moved onto the next story, and no one will care,” sighed Belle. “I’ll just have to make the most of it while I can. I’ve done some interviews, I’m speaking to the Prime Minister tonight, and I’m going to contact the Council tomorrow, see if public opinion has changed their minds. I doubt it.”

“Maybe we should protest,” suggested Merida. “Keep the momentum going. I can make placards.”

“I can wave the placards and yell stuff,” offered Leroy, and Belle pursed her lips.

“Alright,” she said. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I’ll let you know what Mr Sutherland has to say for himself.”

“Just don’t let him sweet-talk you,” warned Merida. “These politicians are masters at wriggling out of their responsibilities. They’re all great at talking without saying anything, you know? If he makes any promises, get them in writing. Or on camera. Or both.”

Belle grinned.

“I’ll try.”

x

She was surprised not to encounter any cameras on her short walk from the library to the Swan Hotel, but there again she supposed none of the reporters wanted to miss the meeting. Anna met her in the hotel reception, smiling briefly and gesturing towards the corridor behind her.

“We’re in the Marchland Suite,” she said. “The press are crammed into the room next door, waiting to capture the two of you meeting. They’ll probably fire questions at you, but don’t feel you have to answer.”

Belle nodded, suddenly, painfully nervous. She fingered the strap of her satchel, in which the folder containing her research was sitting. Her bag had already been searched by two large men whom she presumed were Sutherland’s security team, and the formality of it all made her very aware that she would shortly be in a room with the most powerful man in the country. It made her feel tiny, insignificant, and she took a deep breath, trying to draw courage into her lungs. Anna gave her a sidelong look as they mounted a flight of stairs.

“Chin up,” she said. “He doesn’t bite.”

Belle nodded wordlessly, and the next moment they were stepping through a doorway into an opulent room decorated in pale cream and sage green, filled with waiting reporters. Anna led her through the throng towards a set of double doors, rapping smartly three times with her knuckles. Cameras started whirring, a ripple of flashing lights exploding in the air, and Belle could feel her pulse thumping in her throat and behind her eyes as the doors opened and the Prime Minister stepped out, nodding to the waiting reporters and smiling broadly as he adjusted his cuffs. 

The flashes of two dozen cameras were creating a strobe effect that was making Belle want to squeeze her eyes shut. It was all a little overwhelming, and she felt herself freeze in place as Sutherland stepped towards her, reaching out with his right hand. He was dressed in a different suit to that he had worn earlier, but it was just as expensive, and fitted him just as well. His tie was blue, his shirt crisp and crease-free, the cuffs just poking out from beneath his jacket to display gold cufflinks. To Belle’s great surprise, she found herself imagining what he looked like first thing in the morning, unshaven and dishevelled with heavy eyes. The image that came to her mind was also shirtless, and her eyes widened as she wondered where the hell that had come from. Her cheeks flushed a little, and she told herself to get a bloody grip.

“Miss French,” said Sutherland, smiling as he grasped her hand. “Good of you to come.”

His hand was warm and smooth, his fingers closing firmly around hers, and he used his other hand to pat and squeeze her upper arm, as though sending her some sort of reassurance, or holding her in place. It made her eyes narrow, but she nodded a little stiffly, shaking his hand. He had a politician’s smile, white teeth and fake warmth that didn’t quite reach his eyes. They were nice eyes, though, and she wondered what he looked like when he was greeting someone he actually wanted to meet.

“Prime Minister,” she said cautiously, and his smile widened a little.

“I’m grateful that you took time out of your busy evening to meet with me,” he added. “Hopefully we can have a constructive discussion.”

“I hope so, too.”

The flashes were off-putting, making her feel somewhat dazed, but Sutherland didn’t seem to notice. She supposed he was used to it. He was still shaking her hand, and she realised it was so each of the cameras could catch the perfect shot. He was clearly adept at working the press to his advantage, and it made her very aware that this encounter was as much for his benefit as for hers. Probably more so. It also made her want to pull back, but she stared into his eyes, feeling her jaw tighten as she stood firm. Eventually he let go of her hand, and she resisted the urge to rub her palm against her thigh.

“Well, if you could come this way,” said Sutherland pleasantly, gesturing to the room behind him.

“Belle, what are you hoping to achieve tonight?” called a reporter, and Belle blinked, her brain suddenly blank in the face of flashing cameras and thrusting microphones.

“I - uh…” she faltered. “I…”

“We’re just opening a dialogue,” said Sutherland smoothly. “Miss French raised a number of interesting points in our last meeting, and I want to make sure that the people’s voices are heard.”

Our last meeting? Interesting way to say I yelled at you in the marketplace. Belle swallowed hard, her throat dry, and lifted her chin. Come on, you can do this!

“What’s your opinion on the Government’s record on public funding?” asked a balding man with thick glasses, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“I believe my opinion on that topic is already doing the rounds on social media,” she said dryly. “Maybe you missed it.”

There was a ripple of laughter. Sutherland had placed his hand on her shoulder, a light pressure that she knew was designed to get her walking. She dug in her heels, shoulders lifting a little.

“Do you still believe the library can be saved?” asked another reporter eagerly.

“I’ll believe that until they lock me out of the place,” she said, and there was a babble of voices as they all asked questions at once. A woman in a bright pink coat shoved forward a little.

“Belle, do you think this is a genuine overture on the Prime Minister’s part, or just a photo opportunity?” she asked.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” she said. “I’m not holding my breath.”

Sutherland’s expression was blank and impassive, but a tiny muscle twitched in his cheek. She felt his fingers tighten a little, and the white-toothed smile slithered back into place.

“Right, well, I promised Miss French a private meeting,” he said. “If you could excuse us, please, we have a lot to discuss.”

There were more shouted questions, but Anna stepped into the line of sight, motioning to the reporters to move back. Belle allowed herself to be steered through the double doors into a plush meeting room, a shining mahogany table and eight chairs on one side, and a squashy leather couch and two armchairs around a glass and chrome coffee table on the other. The doors behind her closed, shutting out the noise from the waiting press, and Sutherland stalked to the table, placing his palms on its gleaming surface and fixing Belle with a dark-eyed stare.

“Well, Miss French,” he said, his voice a little lower and rougher than it had been before. “I believe we have things to discuss.”