The Edge @jackprouvaire-blog - Tumblr Blog

the pounding of rain; inigo & jack

The poor boy stuttered something incoherent in response to Inigo’s question, and he only grinned wider, quirking his eyebrows as if to coax an actual response. It was easy to get swept up in this game of theirs’, especially when Inigo derived such potent adrenaline from knowing this boy would probably give the two of them the pins to his bank accounts without them having to put on this show. But this was too much fun. It was easy to forget how little Inigo actually trusted Jack when they were both working toward a common, morally ambiguous, materialistic goal.

Like car keys. The reflection of the light hitting the metal caught his attention, and he quirked his lips at Jack’s deftness. They were good, as expected of Hermes’ incarnate, and he knew Aphrodite loved anyone who could take advantage of their wiles.Take jealousy and distrust out of the equation and the pair could easily run the town - it was such a waste. A tragedy, even.

The boy mumbled something about taking the two of them out for coffee after Inigo’s shift and even offered a business card, and oh, god. He didn’t need to look at Jack to know their reaction. Sweet as the intention was, Inigo and Jack weren’t the types to be wooed over coffee and soft acoustic music and gifts bought with parents’ money. Inigo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he quickly brought his gaze back to the stranger’s face and smiled kindly. “Dinner’s on us, sweets.” He took the check and shoved it back into his pocket, plucking the card from the kid’s fingers. “Let’s play later, yeah?”

And he grabbed Jack’s hand, intertwining their fingers for the hell of it, and dragged them to the back of the house without bothering to look back to see the boy’s reaction. They’d gotten what they wanted, now it was best to become scarce before the kid realized what was missing.

“Is that real leather?” Inigo whispered once they were sheltered by fake potted plants and stacks of dishes. “And car keys too? Are we actually going to borrow this child’s Fisher Price fucking car?” His tone was of pure excitement and adrenaline rather than disbelief and/or mortification.

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Jack almost wanted to feel bad for the boy. He didn’t stand a chance, not when temptation himself wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, promising sweetness and everything he ever wanted with just a glance. Not when the line between what was right and what was wrong was disregarded for personal entertainment and gain. They nosed Richie Richie’s cheek, smiling and opening their eyes just long enough to wink at Inigo.

It was easy, at times like this. To forget what separated them and kept them from being a team that could have charmed Savannah out of all its worth. The jealousy and distrust and subtle dislike. It was the real pity of this life and reincarnation, that they would hate each other so. They could have been the best team together if not for it.

Jack nearly laughed at the comment about going for coffee together after all this. Coffee! It was adorable and full of good intentions and Jack just wanted to break him. They pocketed the keys quickly taking Inigo’s hand and allowed themselves to be pulled along towards the back behind a potted plant, blowing a kiss at the poor boy before turning to face Inigo again.

“It is, fuck. Who actually needs a real leather wallet.” They flipped through the wallet quickly, counting bills and glancing through credit cards and a pitiful student ID. “Fisher Price is fucking loaded.” They pulled the car keys out, dangling them with a teasing smile.

“Hell yes we are.”

#p: inigo #the pounding of rain #BABE THIS IS SO LATE #and so bad #but whatever #lets go steal a car

incorrecttshquotes

These so-called ‘feelings’ are ruining my reputation as a heartless bitch.

Francis Abernathy (via pandsbox)

#everyone is posting sad things and sad quotes so have an awkward cara being weird as hell #musing #not so serious musing

hadesrexinferni

ebrius amatorie || aidan & jack

hadesrexinferni

Thoughts. What were thoughts? They were practically nonexistent to Aidan, which was unfortunate enough especially for a man who used his brain for everything he did. He was an intelligent person, one who thought about consequences before doing them – unless his heart was involved – so being so horridly and stupidly drunk was definitely unnerving. It was terrifying, and being angry wasn’t a valid excuse to drink himself into a stupor.

He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands once the other closed the gap between them; actually, there was practically no gap left. He could feel their breath on his cheek, feel the way their thin fingers pulled at the belt loops of his trousers. No doubt his body reacted accordingly with goosebumps and a smile to match. Aida had no specific opinion on the other person, though he had heard of alcohol giving people a sort of goggles? The ones that made people look far more attractive than they actually were.

But that couldn’t be the case with this person, right? He just couldn’t tell what they were. However, he had some experience with men – some, was the key word. Most of it was forced, most of it was unwarranted, but he still had experience. So whichever this night went, he was decently sure he could handle himself.

“You sure are forward.” Aidan replied with a slur to his words, cheeks pink and sheepish smile on his face. His eyes followed them, and his hands finally lifted to rest lightly on their hips, “I don’t do bars.. But I had a bad day.”

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Getting drunk every night was a bad plan, but things were always at their best on Friday nights. Everyone gets off the work week, pay checks and money to spend. Freshly filled wallets and a far more susceptible disposition to pretty people with batting eyelashes and a drink too many. Everyone always looking for a distraction, a one night stand that guaranteed no strings attached and multiple rounds.

This was some practiced move. Moving closer to the person in front of them, voice dropping and slowing, eyes bright, and a smile that just dared them to do something. They remembered what one of the boys they had danced around in high school had said. That Jack Prouvaire had to be temptation itself in those short skirts and crop tops and bedroom eyes. Oh dear, I’ve met temptation and you can bet your ass it wasn’t him teasing you.

Jack moved slowly. They could take their time with this. The entire night open to them to play around and have fun. An entire night to just take this man apart.

“I’ve never found any use in formalities and hesitation. After all, I think we’re both attractive enough to get laid without too much effort on the whole,” they waved one of their hands through the air by their head, “unnecessary need to buy drinks and put your hand on my ass for a feel.”

They took in the pink cheeks, the slight slur. Hands light on their hips, but not inexperienced. Not in the least. “Well, why don’t I make you feel better, hm?”

#p: aidan #part three in cara's attempts at being sexy via jack #XD #ebrius amatorie

jackprouvaire-blog

Vocal Ink | Jack & Oli

aresincarnated

tw: brief mention of bipolarity

He used to love being an incarnate - following the dream, Oliver experienced the purest joy he could imagine. The strange, seemingly impossible fact that a war god’s soul had somehow interwoven itself into his own was nothing short of comforting, of relieving even. It meant the anger infused into his DNA was natural; even more so, it promised that he was normal, a small but important label Oliver had never received. Downing medication and being shoved from one child psychiatrist (he always shuddered at the fact that those even had to be a thing, that enough children were declared mentally unstable for them to get their own twisted pediatrician) to the next had always weighed him down. A wrong diagnosis weighed him down - he wasn’t bipolar. It was a puzzle piece that just never seemed to fit.

But blessings often have a funny way of turning themselves into curses, and Ares himself had done just that. Oliver now hated the fact that his underlying divinity meant he could never comfortably love Jack. Never hold them close without Ares pulling back. Never feel the same about who Oliver had convinced himself as the love of his life while his star-written soul mate lived five minutes away. It was as impossible as everything else in his life - but he doubted there were any loopholes to getting around Aphrodite.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

The deeper he fell in love with Inigo (not just Ares with Aphrodite, but Oliver with her host in their own melodramatic way) the harder it was to tell himself that he and Jack were destined to be together, at least in the way they’d always promised each other under oak trees, in church pews, in the bed of pickup trucks, naked and high on young love. That felt like lifetimes ago, and Oliver was beginning to feel the arthritic pains that came with maturity; realizing that your childhood dreams are just that - dreams.

Looking up at Jack again, Oliver’s heart nearly broke. But he cracked a smile anyway, squeezing their hand with an eagerness to please. “You’re right. I’d miss you too goddamn much.” Just as he’d miss them as soon as later tonight, when he mumbles some excuse and kisses Jack goodbye, only to go home and bed Inigo, being pathetic enough to text them goodnight as his boyfriend sleeps beside him.

“No,” He laughed, “You wore pajamas, like Kurt Cobain on his wedding day. Messy hair, no bra. As fuckable as ever.” It was still a near-daily occurrence that the older folks of Savannah stopped and asked Oli if he’d popped the question yet, or if he and Jack had discussed kids yet, or which neighborhood they’d bought a house in. Oliver loved to play along, making a fake life with fake marriages and fake kids and even a fake fucking dog, and he’d slowly realized how desirable that life sounded, how life with Jack sounded. But still, he knew it was something he could never allow himself to have (even though Oliver knew if he told Inigo that he wanted Jack, he’d back off, at least after awhile).

His demeanor shifted, his shoulders suddenly stooping and his easy grin melting into a frown. “What? Why would you say that?” Oli pictured their red wagon tattoos. “We’re soulmates, of course I would.”

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Nothing came without a price. If there was anything that old Grandpa Prouvaire had told a young Jacqueline Prouvaire that stuck with them into their teenage years, it was that. Nothing came free. No matter how good the thief, how smart the play, the ball was always due to drop. And damn, didn’t they realize that too soon. At age 13 when Oli whispered to them about his dream of a God of War. At age 16 when they had their own dream, how skeptical they were until they felt the too good pull of a God within them.

But the other ball was due to drop.

The pull away from the boy they had sworn was it for them. The slow realization of the other gods. Of Aphrodite and Inigo. The sudden slap in the face that all those childhood promises and whispers and promises were nothing more than just. The past. Old things being revived for the sake of it. Old words repeated with old smiles and the whispered reassurances that this could be enough.

It wasn’t enough. It’s never enough.

Jack wasn’t as stupid as people liked to think. Not as unobservant and careless as their teachers and neighbors liked to say. They knew when their best friend and self proclaimed soulmate had trailed away and fallen in love. And they knew, it was not just Ares going back to Aphrodite. It was Oli looking at Inigo and feeling love and belonging. It was Hermes scoffing at their heart. It was Jack frowning and turning their cheek away enough to try and convince themselves otherwise.

“What would you even do without me, Lennon?” They smirked, leaning in closer to the older boy. “Would you write me an old Georgia love song?” No. He’d be perfectly fine without you. Shut the fuck up. What? It’s true. You know it too or else you wouldn’t have thought it first.

“Did I now? And what did you wear? Nothing but your boxers? Or flat out fucking naked?” Sometimes, the older people around town would stop Jack and tell them how lucky they are to have Oli. How sweet the two of them are, a pair of Southern sweethearts in a fucking fairytale. Sometimes they’d ask about houses and jobs and kids, always looking meaningfully down at Jack’s stomach when they did. It made them laugh, playing along. They sometimes lost themselves in it. The idea of really living in the life they talked about in the back of Oli’s pick up truck. It sounded like a dream.

They blinked at the shift in demeanor, giving Oli a smile that was a ghost of the smiles grade school teachers gave to the kids who took a little longer to understand the step by step instructions of how to make a card. “Because it’s true. You wouldn’t be able to leave him behind. But you would hate yourself too much to cheat on me. It’s simple.”

#p: oli #vocal ink #IM NOT READY #also this reply hurts even more #with all the stuff we talked about

hadesrexinferni

ebrius amatorie || aidan & jack

hadesrexinferni

Alcohol in public areas definitely wasn’t his favorite type of alcohol, but he had been adamant about causing more chaos than he already done earlier that day. He wasn’t one for chaos, no, that was more Dionysus or Eris’ style. He was the quiet one, the shy one, the one that hid in the shadows while everyone was too scared of his fucking wife.

He was the epitome of lame.

But not that night. No, he was hammered off of his fucking mind and even got kicked out of a bar, which, for the record, has never happened before. He didn’t like people, or social setting, so this was a rare moment for him. This was a moment that should be remembered, but he knew he wouldn’t. There were going to be mistakes made, mistakes he was going to regret if they were made known to him. Part of him hoped they wouldn’t be – he was sure he couldn’t live with himself if they were.

A voice. Female? He couldn’t be sure, especially over the sound of his own laughter. He just knew someone was giving him attention, and in his drunken haze, he liked it. Aidan turned his head down, eyes hooded over; the shadows dropped in mild surprise, but he continued to play with them while the other stepped closer, invading his space.

“Hi.”

Just a simple word could start a lot, and in Aidan’s hazy mood, his smile was warm, inviting. It was a lie, just a mask thanks to the alcohol. He was never this personable, but he supposed enough of that liquid courage would make even the most antisocial man outgoing.

jackprouvaire-blog

Drunk was a good feeling. Buzzed was even better. Buzzed meant you still had control of all your limbs. Buzzed meant you didn’t slur your words too badly if you had the care to try. Buzzed meant you could still do whatever the fuck you wanted that you usually did drunk but have twice the amount of fun.

And Jack never liked having no control over themself. The heaviness and stupidity of being completely smashed. So yes, drunk was a fun feeling. But buzzed was much, much better. Never mind that they were toeing the line between the two state of beings.

They didn’t know the man, couldn’t recognize him from anything important. Someone new, maybe. Someone who doesn’t usually play the field. No wedding ring. Not a nice enough set of clothes. Not a target, but more of something to have fun with for the night. They smiled sweetly up at the older man, stepping in close enough for their chests to just barely touch. Leaning up, their fingers ghosting over his belt, Jack looked up at them with bright blue eyes.

He looked inviting. Drunk. Open and warm. Like he’d be fun for a night. They slipped their thumbs into his belt loops, their smile widening slowly. Their fingers twisted, pulling him just off the wall slightly and closer to them, tiptoeing to brush their lips against the corner of his mouth.

“Hi.” They grinned. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

#ebrius amatorie #p: aiden #HOW DO YOU SEDUCE

shahnazjan-blog-blog

thieves and thruways (Shahnaz + Jack)

Shahnaz Jan did not miss home often. After all, it had never been a particular location for the Jan family. Her place of residence had been whichever fort, encampment, or base her father or her squad had been stationed at for an indeterminate length of time. But “home”? “Home” was an ephemeral, intangible idea: a word on her grandmother’s lips when she spoke of Tehran, a light in her father’s dark eyes when he looked at his daughter, a squeeze of her shoulder while Shahnaz ate cereal at the kitchen table before school. None of those could be replicated in her creaking second floor apartment in Savannah. But home had also been the way the kitchen smelled when Mom’s lamb khoresh was simmering and Grandmom’s barbari bread baked in the oven. That she could do, at least to some extent. Shahnaz had never been a miraculous cook, but her mother had refused to raise a daughter who didn’t at least know how to prepare a decent pilaf and kabab. She had hunted down recipes online – her mother would hardly have broken a four year forced silence in order to provide her shame-bringing daughter with the originals – and made the requisite shopping list. Whether a Kroeger in Savannah, Georgia would have all the ingredients she needed was slightly dubious, but it was better than nothing. Even a weak facsimile of familial comfort would help at a time when the streets outside her window ran with blood and broken glass. The sliding doors of the supermarket gave a cheerful ping! as they opened. Shahnaz pushed her cart towards the dried foods aisle first, searching for adequate rice. She stopped midway down the empty aisle and unzipped the functional little black cross-body purse she used when it was too warm out to wear her utility jacket. Her eyes scanned the list for few seconds. Something – someone – moved at the very edges of her peripheral vision, the ones that only soldiers and paranoiacs train themselves to use.

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Jack, for some odd and unexplainable reason they never cared to go into, liked supermarkets. Despite the obvious flaws of the area (crying children, angry mothers demanding to see managers, could-not-care-less teens who left the freezer door open, workers who tried to berate them for locking said teens inside the freezer), they found something fun in speeding down aisles in a shopping cart and going through a list of things needed to be brought. The free samples helped too.

They hopped from different store to different store like an alcoholic tried different bars for the best deal and hardest whiskey. Kroeger was hardly a new store in Savannah (there hardly were any) but it wasn’t somewhere Jack frequented very often. It was always too...blue.

Shifting down the aisles, they eyed the different customers carefully. Soccer mom with a family of three. Older man who really should not have worn that color shirt. Another teen leaving the fucking freezer door open. A pretty woman who looked down right sensible.

They ran their fingers along the shelves, moving down towards the woman without a sound. As they passed by, they slipped their hand into her purse, quickly pulling out her wallet and pocketing it in their too-large jacket. It had been warm, almost too warm for the jacket if Jack had not gotten used to overwhelming heat.

#p: shahnaz #thieves and thruways

hadesrexinferni

ebrius amatorie || aidan & jack

The morgue was gone. The gods were being released. All H e l l was breaking loose.

And Aidan didn’t know what to do.

Other than him being overly defensive over Clara, and being on guard from the mortals and everyone else, there wasn’t much he could do. Not that he knew of – Clara was what his world revolved around, that and the revenge he was so desperately overdue for. He needed both, and now that Zeus was out in the open, he was sure he could get it some way or another. But for Clara, he wasn’t sure if they was going to be a constant.

What if something happened? Something bad?

Aidan wasn’t sure what he would do if something like that were to happen. He figured nothing good would come to the people of Savannah, Georgia, or his fellow deities. They were family, but if one of them were to ruin them, to take them as his brother had, they would soon feel his wrath. And he knew he needed to be on his guard to take care of Clara, to be completely mentally clear, but the alcohol buzzing through his veins said otherwise.

He had one too many drinks in his system, which honestly, was the stupidest thing for him to ever do, but amidst the chaos, he figured some alcohol wouldn’t do too much harm. No, especially compared to the destruction happening in the town, alcohol was nothing.

The bar had already kicked him out into the cold air.

The night was old, growing into the wee hours of the morning with the moon setting. It was still dark, pitch black, with low hanging clouds. It was beautiful, prime time for Aidan, for Hades, but with the alcohol pumping through his body, all he could do was stumble down the sidewalk, bump into trashcans and lamp posts, and make an utter fool of himself.

Aidan clumsily leaned against a wall, head thrown back, long neck exposed and cheeks flushed. He laughed to himself and played with the shadows, fingers dancing elegantly despite his feet fumbling to keep the rest of himself up.

jackprouvaire-blog

In the midst of all the chaos that had rained down on Savannah like a plague, Jack somehow found it in themselves to not give a flying fuck about it. They supposed they were used to it, always being in the middle of trouble. Both in this life and the next, Hermes and Jack. Always mixing themselves in the ‘wrong sort.’ Always cheating in cards, always nicking the biggest hit.

This new development, the fearsome and ferocious need to cleanse the city of its freaks, it was something almost interesting. Something sprouted from one person spreading fear like the flu, infecting everyone it came near. And then it spread, with accusations flying throughout neighborhoods, certain names coming up too often to be ignored.

Jacqueline Prouvaire, being one near the top of the list.

They couldn’t say they didn’t see it coming, not with their previous recklessness with their ability and line of pissed off neighbors who would not hesitate to throw them under the metaphorical and physical bus. What they didn’t expect was how absolutely thoughtless and violent the rioters would be. With lynching and anger and broken shop windows, it looked like something out of an old history textbook, in the section of the course where the teacher would talk softer and speak about states’ rights instead of slavery.

It was something out of a nightmare. While Hermes laughed and pushed to fly, Jack pushed back and channeled the energy into yelling pointless insults and staying up later in different parts of town, looking for something fun. Even if they were two years under the legal drinking age, they found that batting eyelashes and flirting with the bartenders usually found its way around the rule. Tonight had been no different, and they left the bar pleasantly buzzed and half dancing in their step.

Jack turned, spinning to a pause when they heard another laugh. Deeper. More masculine. They spotted the man, handsome, leaning against the wall with the fumbling clumsiness of someone drunk out of their mind. They bit their lip as they smiled, moving towards him slowly.

“Hey there, mister.”

#p: aiden #ebrius amatorie #late as fuck but it exists

iralmock-deactivated20161013

Daya took a step back from the strangers, only rolling her eyes at their words. The angry crowd wasn’t worth confronting, not when they outnumbered the incarnates by a long shot. As frustrating as it was to admit, they didn’t stand a chance at this point, powers or not. “They’re looking for any excuses to hurt us, they’re scared. Antagonizing them won’t help the situation, our best bet is to lay low for awhile.” she responded, crossing her arms as she stared the other down.

jackprouvaire-blog

“They’ll try to hang us all no matter what we do. The police don’t care about what we said or did before hand, all they know is one less freak to deal with and that’s enough for them to put the case at the bottom of the pile, if not directly in the shredder.” Jack tilted their chin up, some motion of anger and a dare.