CLEVER AS THE DEVIL

fire on her tongue. god trembles before her: (she is man-eater, woman and beast) she is god-killer, rusted blood, and she cannot be tamed

[dohertywrites-archive]

Adelaide Kane & Taron Egerton as requested by @shallcwgrave

[reigningbass-blog]

Text  → Open

Eric: i'm going to get a tattoo for my birthday this year.

Eric: help me pick?

Eric: also, where should i put it?

Octavia: On your back. As for the tattoo, you should let me tell the tattoo artist and it can be a surprise.

[gildednathaniel]

People put the weirdest things on resumes. Who knew taking photos for tourists was a skill– but apparently lots of people consider it to be. 

[reigningbass-blog]

“They’ve surpassed pathetic and gone straight to desperation. I have zero pity for them, these days they’ll put any old crap on there if it means they can get an interview.”

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

If there was one thing in his life that Fletcher possessed any pride for, it was his car. It had nearly taken years to build up from the ground, countless hours alone in a garage that had kindly let him use their tools if he agreed to work for them part-time in between his classes, kickboxing, and sleeping. He had lived and breathed for the vehicle until he was able to scrounge up enough money for all the parts he needed, finally able to restore it just the year prior to this. His hard work did not sit in the garage of his Brooklyn apartment as though it had simply been a pet project after he had been done rebuilding it, he took every opportunity to take it out, washed and waxed it every chance he got. It was his most prized possession, the proudest achievement he had ever had, the only thing that truly mattered to him. It was everything that he had poured his frustration and his anger into, manifesting it into something far more beautiful than she would ever be to him.

The way she looked at the classic set his insides ablaze, she thought herself so smart and so accomplished at the tender age of twenty-two. It was clear to see that Octavia thought herself to be so far above him that she wasted no time sparing his feelings, she was only concerned with herself and how this relationship could benefit her. His gaze hardened, something resembling anger shining in his forest hues before they flickered back to the car. The shiny finish only soothed him, his expression softening once more as he let out a bark of forced laughter. “Do you think I’d risk my own life driving her if it wasn’t safe? I value my life, even if it doesn’t seem like I do sometimes.” His reply was easygoing, but he was anything but underneath the layers of walls he had put up to deter her from thinking he was up to no good.

“Would you consider my grandparents special?” His answer was instantaneous, automatically spewing from his lips. The elder Bass never begged, never felt the need to fight for anyone because she could get whoever she wanted if she so much as asked. Though, he relished in thinking that he could one day get her to want him only to leave her as soon as he had her right where he wanted her. It was an empty thought, however, the snake was hardly capable of feeling, let alone feeling something for someone like him.

Analytical eyes followed her movement, his lips pressing together in slight annoyance as her form pressed against the paint of his car. He hated anyone touching it that wasn’t him, but it was supposed to be a given today as he was the one who had asked her to take a ride with him in the first place. “It’s a surprise. We might get a little out of your comfort zone, but what’s the point in living if you just stick to what you know?” The question was rhetorical, of course, knowing that she’d likely come up with an answer that stated she had been doing just fine prior to this. “Get in, Octavia. I promise it’ll be worth it and I always keep my promises.”

[reigningbass-blog]

It burned beneath the surface, a festering excitement which glowed and burned, time only adding to fire. It gave her joy, so much, that her stomach buzzed and her fingers clenched ever so slightly in a silent victory, when Fletcher’s eyes blazed with annoyance. She’d caught it, probably when he thought she wasn’t looking. His control over his emotions had faltered, and she’d seen a part of him, the bit that she got under and peeled away. Octavia was carefully plucking at the skin, lifting gently, with great precision. She wanted the boy before her laid bare, all secrets exposed with the vulnerability of love, only then would she ever truly win. Her determination never wavered, she was an immovable source of fire and willingness of succeed. Octavia had pained her life in shades of black and white, with lashings of red staining the monochromatic canvas, it was the blood of her enemies. She saw people as one or the other, the rich and the poor, the strong and the weak.

Truth be told, nerves did bubble in her stomach from the thought of getting in his death trap, but she didn’t think he was stupid enough to put his own life in danger. The summery skies above them, were the perfect backdrop to a romantic date. Her honeyed smiles covered up any reservations, “I was just joking, Fletch. I can see you worked really hard on it.” She could imagine him spending countless hours slaving over the car, fixing it up until it shined. It was almost admirable.

The pained smile which followed was purposeful but seamless, the truth of her words added a depth to her emotion, and she flashed it towards him almost sadly. “I imagine that many would think that. I can understand the special bond between grandchild and a grandparent, but it’s not something which I’ve ever experienced. Neither my father or mother’s parents were in the world by the time me and Chuck came along. We Bass’s are few.” Numbers didn’t equal greatness, and although she would naturally ensure the survival of the Bass name, she sincerely hoped that it was Chuck who had a brood, because motherhood didn’t seem like a desirable path for her to take. How could she consider it, when hers died bringing twin’s into the world?

Rolling her shoulders, she shifted in intrigue, Octavia couldn’t care less where Fletcher took her...she’d pretend to enjoy it all the same. Naturally, she’d come out with the occasional spoiled rich girl comment, just to remind him who she was, but also that the princess had chosen the pauper. “Very well. No one’s ever managed to surprise me before, but I have no idea where we are going. There’s a point for you.”

[akanesource]

adelaidekane  Queen off duty 👸🏻#halfdressed #medievilmeetsmodern#marydoescoachella

[adriansrosales-deactivated20160]

Coffee - the drink that fueled many , if not all, of new york’s inhabitants. It was the one thing on Adrian’s mind when he woke early in the morning, light from the risen sun shining through the curtains in his bedroom. He assumed his night had been something to note, considering he was still dressed in the same outfit, minus his left shoe. Any night that resulted in missing clothing had to he considered eventful, even if you didn’t remember said events. He went along with his morning routine: a drink to cure the headache, jogging to give himself a small boost, a hot shower, and an iced coffee to top it all off. ( With extra whipped cream on top , just because he could. ) 

The line when he entered the shop was long, but gladly Adrian could say he had the patience for situations like these. It was the reason his phone has so many causal games - playing a round of candy crush made time go by faster. It was a fact. Three levels in, he found himself at the front of the line ready to tell the barista his drink order. Before he could, a brunette practically stole his spot and had the nerve to smile about it. Though this wasn’t just any brunette.

“No way, you go on and get your drink. The rest of us can wait.” He wasn’t usually one to get snappy, but in his defense - he hadn’t had his coffee yet. “You want any of us to pay for it too?”

[reigningbass-blog]

A tug of war played in her mind, both sides rivaling the other in skill and strength. Adrian, a name she had cared to remember, was an unintentional part of her plan. When she’d first decided, way back when she was sixteen years old, that Fletcher Murdoch was a mission for her, Octavia had noticed the company he kept, the friends that he had. Adrian wasn’t just his friend anymore, he was his roommate, perhaps even a voice of reason against her spells. Octavia would do her best, and her best was always good enough, to make Fletcher fall in love with her. But somewhere along the way, Octavia would Adrian like her too...after she was finished with Fletcher, it didn’t matter what the boy before her thought. 

She smiled, looked at him and then at the cluster of people, “No, quite the opposite actually. I’m feeling charitable.” Her neck craned, serpentine smile etched upon her features, “Their drinks are on me,” she  announced, passing over her black card. 

[hisviiolentends-blog]

“No, of course not,” Loren gritted out through his teeth, forcing the best smile he could muster up at the moment. “Besides the fact that you cut us all in line, because you’re a priority.” He said the world, half questioning it himself. It wasn’t like he didn’t know the girl– though she doubted Octavia knew who he had been. Not that it mattered; he had about a million and one other things to do that day, one of them not being cut off by a better-than-him brunette. 

“–But don’t worry about it, sweetheart. We can all wait for you.”

[reigningbass-blog]

Her brain scoured for a name, any name to match with the boy’s face. Sure, she’d seen him around a few times, although no effort had been forced on herself to title him. He was as unknown to her, as most in the queue, so she simply gave him a cutting smile. “You’re right, you should wait for me,” Octavia sneered. 

[firstclxss-deactivated20161105]

Carter yawned, only up this early because he woke up and hightailed it out of an apartment he didn’t recognize. He’d swung by his house and was now standing in line, freshly showered, chewing Spearmint gum, and waiting to order his Latte. He was about to go next when a brunette suddenly slipped in front of him, causing a resounding groan to erupt from the long line behind him.

She turned around, and Carter recognized the face of none-other-than Octavia Bass. Have something to say? He wasn’t exactly impatient and bitter like the people glaring daggers, but Carter couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Arms folded over his chest, he leaned forward.

“Take all the time you need. And skip out on the Splenda; you could use a little real sugar.” Because he wasn’t buying the kindness game from any Bass.

[reigningbass-blog]

Carter Baizen, how could she miss him amongst the rabble? Her eyes were narrow, fingers rhythmically hitting the countertop which her lean body stood beside, eagerly awaiting her coffee as though she’d been stood their for longer than all of them. Octavia didn’t care about the people she pushed in front of, the cafe relied on her generosity when it was on the brink of collapse and so she was always greeted first. 

Artificial sweetener was exactly what she pushed onto people, her falseness hidden behind buttered words and candy smiles, she was the grace and elegance with the manipulation of a god. “I suggest something with a little less bitterness for you, Baizen. You’re the bad aftertaste in too many mouths.”

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

Of all the people in Manhattan to chase, he had chosen the one that most likely to make him suffer just for a laugh. He had no doubt that Octavia could pull the rug right out from under him and make him look like a lovesick fool, but it wasn’t as though his reputation was worth tarnishing more than it already had been. He’d been shunned, kicked out, and shut out from the moment his father was convicted. Truth be told, Fletcher had nothing to lose and everything to gain from succeeding. His end goal was not to rise up to be one of the pretentious elite again, but to bring those people who deemed themselves important to their knees. He, especially, wanted to see the Bass twins function without their inheritances and the fear behind their names in normal society. A wake up call was due for all of them and he’d damn sure deliver it if it was the last thing he ever did.

His patience wore thin after the first ten minutes, knowing how pathetic he looked simply parked in front of the building as if he had nothing better to do with his life. He knew he had laid it on a little too thick, not even a full twenty-hours had passed since Octavia had declared that she wanted him. Fletcher needed to seem eager, though, as if this was the only thing he had ever thought about in all the years they hadn’t seen each other. He couldn’t have any shame and spare himself the embarrassment of attempting to play a game of waiting that he would surely lose. Despite never knowing each other personally, he knew of her reputation and everyone knew that neither of the Basses ever cracked first.

At the fifteen minute mark, he felt tempted to send her another text, emphasis that he was waiting but he didn’t cave into the desire. If she wanted to toy with him, he would prove that he could wait, even if he was irate. Opting to text his best friend instead, he quickly passed the time until he saw a flicker of something from the corner of his eye. Carefully exiting the vehicle to be sure not to scratch the pristine paint once Octavia came closer, Fletcher couldn’t help the look of admiration as his gaze raked from her head to her toes and back up again. As much of a bitch and an annoyance as she was, he had to admit that she was definitely something to look at regardless of the way he felt about her.

“I’m just sorry they were pulling you away from brunch,” came his reply, light and breezy as if the waiting hadn’t phased him. Walking around to the passenger side, he held open the door until she sat down in it. “Yeah, she’s a classic, built her myself after I got her frame as a gift.” A note of pride rang deep in his chest at the statement, never having been more proud to call something his and his only.

[reigningbass-blog]

If he was impatient, and Octavia knew that he would be, the dustbin boy hid it well behind a breezy response. The darkness of her eyes fell on the vehicle, little warmth radiating from her as she assessed the safety of it. Perhaps his plan was to somehow injure her, and then take advantage...but she didn’t think himself that ruthless, that’s something she’d do. Driving was a common skillset to have, amongst the poor folk, but Bart Bass had always instructed his children on a certain way of living. Always driven around, never in the front seat, even taxi’s were a disgrace. Her town-car driver, Hugh, would likely have a snigger to himself over Octavia’s particular predicament. 

“You built it yourself?” she questioned, fingers grazing the sides of the car. “I appreciate that it must have taken a lot of time, but can I just ask, are you certain it’s safe?” Octavia wouldn’t be Octavia if she wasn’t snobbish, and even pretending to be interesting in Fletcher Murdoch didn’t warrant silence on her part. Pushing her lips together, Octavia removed her fingers from the side of the car and rested them against the patterned fabric of her Alexander McQueen dress. It reminded her to assess him appearance, as if she could ever forget. Fletcher didn’t dress bad for a Brooklynite, but then he was a blueblood who fell from divinity. 

“You say that the frame was gifted, was it from someone special?” Rule number one of pretending to be interested in a relationship, was to act as if she was interested in the man himself, although her brain could barely associate the word man and Fletcher in the same sentence, since she still remembered him as the pathetic boy in high-school that she toyed with, until she left him high and dry to go to college. 

Octavia leant against the body of the car, head tilted towards him. “So, where are you whisking me off to today?” she queried, rubbing her lips together. The sunglasses on her head were removed by her fingers to move into place on her face, the Chanel emblem shining under the light. Octavia was a label whore, and in the same place that she worked, her candid photos could also end up in there. 

[annexlucy-blog]

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

@reigningbass

Octavia Bass had always been someone others had deemed as unattainable, the way that she carried herself at all times was enough of a repellent for those who were too egotistical to even think about getting rejected. Somehow, some way, Fletcher had done the unthinkable and managed to wrap the snake around his grasp. He was not foolish enough to think that he was truly good enough for her, however. Perhaps it took a liar to see another, but it was strikingly obvious to him that she was on another level in comparison to him. He was poor, kind, and helpful. Octavia was the exact opposite, unless it came to the very few people she called friends. Opposites may have attracted, but it seemed to him that there was no real magnetism between the two… Or so he told himself.

Regardless if everything seemed fake, there was a part of him that wanted to try. The Murdoch boy wanted to reel her in and break her, just as her father had broken their resolve. It didn’t take much to lie through text messages, heartfelt words ringing empty as he glanced down at his phone between stoplights. The drive to Manhattan from his place in Brooklyn was a long one, traffic up the nines as he shifted through lanes in order to gain the tiniest bit of momentum. It would have been easier to just take a train, but he didn’t get to take his car out too often and the entire purpose of this date was to woo her as best as he could. To him, there wasn’t anything better than getting out of the city for a drive, feeling the wind in his hair and the purr of the engine that he had lovingly put into this vehicle himself.

Arriving in front of the building that she called home, a deep sigh escaped from him. He’d never spent time with her apart from the times where they were too busy taking their clothes off to talk, a small bit of worry etching a small indent between his eyebrows. To pull this off, he could never let it slip that he truly despised her and that he found her interesting and captivating. He’d done a lot of pretending in his life, but if managed to get her to fall in love with him, it would be much easier to pry the information from her than Chuck.

Quickly sending a text for her to come downstairs, he waited as patiently as he could, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel to some generic song on the radio.

[reigningbass-blog]

She lay in luxury, her  body covered in small amounts of silk with lace trimmings, lounging about in her own private boudoir. Rivers of dark hair fell over the sides of the chaise lounge, silky legs half crossed together as she effortlessly texted empty responses. Octavia had always had a way with her words, the personal library inside her mind an infallible tool in her teenage gossip mutterings, and the later the elegant writings in vogue pages. The glossy magazine lay half-forgotten on her lap, mind suddenly distracted by the appearance of Fletcher on her phone. At first, she considered denying the boy, letting him wait a few more days before she blessed him with her presence. But making him fall in love with her would take time, he wasn’t an easy target, and so she’d agreed and then continued to send flattering remarks with disgust etched upon her brilliant features. 

Lifting her coffee cup up from it’s matching pearlised saucer, Octavia took a long sip of the strong brew and sighed heavily. She wasn’t joking about needing brunch, her stomach grumbled and groaned, several emails already sent and a gym visit taking up her morning. It was only after that she’d showered, styled her hair and slipped into a luxurious silk teddy. She had no intention of dressing until Fletcher text to say he was waiting for her downstairs. Octavia was anything but ready, fingers playing lazily with the string of pearls she’d left on the table beside her. 

When the phone buzzed, Octavia stood up and smirked. She didn’t dislike Fletcher Murdoch, she loathed him. His very existence irked her, and the formed elite always had the same look in his eye like he was desperate to get back on top. It was the kind of gaze she saw in Jenny Humphrey, who wanted more than a back alley apartment in Brooklyn with a second hand sewing machine, and discounted fabrics. There was a balance, and whilst some rose, others fell. Fletcher’s father may have been cast out from her father’s company and jailed, but that was his own fault for embezzling money. Now, Fletcher was no better than all the other social climbing rats in Brooklyn, and she wanted to know what he was digging for. 

Almost twenty minutes later, and dressed to perfection, Octavia left her penthouse and gilded gates with a smile at the doorman. “I had to take a call from work,” she lied, tossing Fletcher a well-acted smiled, whilst her eyes scanned over the vehicle. “So this is your car?”

[reigningbass-blog]

fletcher → 'princess'

FLETCHER: don't make all of this sound insignificant, it's important.

FLETCHER: is it weird that i think you're hot when you're a bitch?

OCTAVIA: There's no need to read so deeply into it. I've always been focused on power, not the whims of my heart.

OCTAVIA: That's good, since I'm a bitch about 95% of the time.

[reigningbass-blog]

fletcher → 'princess'

FLETCHER: i'm touched that you deemed me worthy enough. really, octavia.

FLETCHER: more a plea, actually.

OCTAVIA: Had to happen at sometime I guess. I just chose you.

OCTAVIA: I like the idea of you pleading, it's the bitch in me. But I'll whisper it to you over brunch.

[reigningbass-blog]

fletcher → 'princess'

FLETCHER: isn't that what a boyfriend does? i'm a little bit rusty. obviously, though, i'm talking about the future here.

FLETCHER: yeah? i want to hear you say that when i see you.

OCTAVIA: I wouldn't know. I've never had a boyfriend. Like I said, for many years I believed I could only be strong if I didn't have a man beside me.

OCTAVIA: Is that a request, or a demand?

[reigningbass-blog]

fletcher → 'princess'

FLETCHER: isn't it supposed to be my job to make sure you're not overworking yourself?

FLETCHER: i've never been unsure about you. like i said, i just wanted to make sure it was real.

OCTAVIA: I suppose. Depends on if you want to have jurisdiction over that.

OCTAVIA: You and me, we're real.

[reigningbass-blog]

fletcher → 'princess'

FLETCHER: i refuse to believe that you would ever have anything even close to a "lazy" sunday, but maybe one day. i'll make you breakfast the next time either of us stay over.

FLETCHER: i told you back then i wanted this, i'm not going to do anything to lose it.

OCTAVIA: It's been known to happen, once or twice. Usually if I've been working myself too hard.

OCTAVIA: You seemed a little unsure.

[reigningbass-blog]

fletcher → 'princess'

FLETCHER: cafe d'alsace sound good? or do you want me to come over and make pancakes for you? i've been told they're world class... by adrian, but it counts.

FLETCHER: i'm just saying if you see me with a black eye and a broken nose one day, just know i took a beating for you.

OCTAVIA: Sounds great. Why don't you save that for a lazy sunday?

OCTAVIA: How romantic.