marshmahmoudi

[marshmahmoudi]

Marshall tilted his head a Lulu's response. "And where would you be sleeping if he found out about us? Just for future reference." He teased, leaning on the door frame as Lulu stepped in and made herself comfortable.

He'd lead her down a hallway, like he usually did. To a guest room that was intricately decorated. It was his mother's pastime since moving to Misty. When she wasn't drinking...she was trying out different interior design styles she found in her magazines. If she wasn't drinking...she could likely make a side hustle out of it. Marshall had suggested it quite a few times....to inebriated ears.

This guest room was currently a wickerweave paradise...and Bolton had made himself comfortable in a rattan dog bed in the corner. He didn't react to Lulu's prescense intially...but one stare from Marshall and the dog was quietly sulking out of the room. Marshall closed the door behind him and turned to face Lulu once more.

"I'm glad we survived. Lots of shit we haven't tried yet." He prodded, venturing to kiss her on the cheek. It was...more saccharine than he usually was around Lulu. He actually missed her? Weird. He kicked off his slippers and took a seat on the bed...gesturing for Lulu to follow him. "What's new in your life? Just because you weren't as victimized doesn't mean we can talk about you for a bit. It's not all about me and my very sexy scar."

If it were up to her, Lulu would have every hookup at a house as nice as Marshall's. It was probably the nicest place she'd ever set foot in: a lovely bonus along with the boy who lived in it. If only the reason she was standing on the porch would actually open the door. "Marshall!" she shouted as she rapped on the grand entrance, annoyed by the thought that someone would actually make her wait.

He was really lucky she was there when he'd gotten hurt, or else she might've added to the injury by the time he showed up at the door, minutes later.

With her arms folded over her chest and foot tapping, Lulu rolled her eyes at his greeting. "Oh, my god." She pushed past him, entering the foyer of the Mahmoudi mansion like she owned the place. "If Major murdered Baylor, his ass would be sleeping in the grass." Not true, really: she would've done anything to keep her brother out of jail, and there was little he could do to get himself kicked out of the trailer, murdering the town's hero included.

"Glad to see you're still standing. I was worried your pretty little face wouldn't make it to Christmas alive," she teased, giving his abdomen a poke as she slid her shoes off.

[marshmahmoudi]

Marshall and Bolton were on the run. Not from something. He had been running ever since he started feeling better. To clear his mind...to get back in shape. After all, neither Lulu nor Kiera wanted him for his intellect. That's how he saw it anyway. He was a hot body. And after Christmas Eve...he was feeling pretty dysphoric.

His run came to a full stop when he heard the sound of someone else. His pace slowed...and he reached for the brass knuckles in his pockets. But as he squinted and Knox's voice rang out...he realized he wasn't dealing with a Christmas Eve sequel. He was dealing with an oversized altar boy.

"Bolton might have something to say about that." He taunted. Bolton, the rottweiler who really served as a foil to Marshall, was instead pissing in a nearby bush. Afterwards he galloped his way to Marshall, and paced around absentmindedly. "Bolton." Marshall barked. Bolton barks back, and then turns to face the foreign creatures. Looking barely menacing.

"Anyway...I'll skulk where I please." Marshall teases. "What are you up to tonight? And don't say something lame like bible study or feeding the homeless. I want to know the real debauchery you get into after dark."

WHAT: Knox on a walk with his dog somewhere in Misty Mountain. WHO: open!

The shepherd mix, Delilah, loped along beside Knox, her tongue lolling out of her mouth happily as her feet crunched into the snow. His own hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his coat, head bowed while his thoughts raced. Considering everything that had happened lately, it probably wasn't a good idea to be walking around so distracted at night, but, well. Knox hadn't been known recently for his good choices.

It was about that time that Delilah's enthusiastic gait came to a sudden halt. Her head lifted, ears forward and alert. Knox stopped a half second later, taking in the dog's stiff body language that screamed THREAT.

Knox was immediately on alert, his fingers gone pale as they tightened around the leash. He should have known better than to be without anything but his useless pocketknife and a compact mirror, but there was that pesky bad choices thing again.

A figure suddenly cut an imposing silhouette against the night and Delilah let out a low rumble in the back of her throat. She also liked to growl at leaves through the window as they blew across the yard, but that was neither here nor there.

The figure shifted, the orangey fluorescent glow illuminated their face and Knox deflated on a breath. "You keep skulking around at night like that and Delilah's gonna think it's open season."

[marshmahmoudi]

"Ew." Marshall responded immediately. He looked down at his leather jacket...blue jeans...combat boots. What part of this get-up said door to door bible salesman. He smiled at Serendipity. A rare luxury. "Okay now I have to stay...because I feel I deserve an apology. Don't compare me to them." He pleaded. "It's a job application."

He looked past her, to Red. His smile stayed longer. The West house was working miracles on this day. "Name?" He asked pointing to the dog. "I got one too. Rottweiler. Name's Bolton." He hummed, suddenly opting to kneel down and speak to the four-legged creature rather than the human. That was always easier.

Serendipity didn't get many visitors -- and she liked it that way! A bit of privacy in such a small town? More like a bit of a safe haven! Unfortunately, that did not mean she never got visitors. In recent times, they were usually folks like Knox or... someone who just generally wanted to 'check in' and 'see how things were going.' She would almost prefer a Jehovahs Witness. You know, the type of people she would prefer not greeting, but the social script demanded she do so if she wanted to... integrate into society -- oh, the pain she endured for her sister!

All of that to say, when she heard Red start barking at the door, she figured she would beat them to the chase. She was, like, so well-adjusted! Not to mention the possibility of it being an attempted intruder, in which case... Red, it's on you! But she was not expecting a guy (Marshall, right?) with a flyer. Unfortunately for him, it was just comedy gold! "Where's the suit and tie? And, ya know, your hair looks a little too unkempt for me t' accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and personal savior."

[marshmahmoudi]

an open starter

where: marshall is outside ur house

This was fucking stupid. Marshall told his father that after high school he would commit to one (1) job that supported the daily operations of Archer Farms. Up until today, that job had pretty much been limited to managing scheduling and payroll for the farm. It was a relatively easy job considering the size of their staff. In Marshall's eyes it was a great stepping stone to running everything. Job recruiting was not.

Marshall was going door to door, sticking farmhand and other essential Farm job applications on people's doors. He felt like a piss poor Martin Luther. The religious one not the black one. He had gotten into the habit of sliding his papers in screen doors...so imagine his surprise when a front door flung open in the middle of his routine.

He looked up at the home's inhabitant. "Not a word. Any questions you have are answered on the paper. Have the day you deserve." He said, ready to flee.

[marshmahmoudi]

It was a little harder than he had rehearsed in his head for the past few minutes. He wanted this to be the end of their situation. She'd sign a vow of silence regarding their relationship and anything she learned about the Mahmoudi family in their meetings. He'd vow to keep her life as a stripper a secret. It was gracious. "I have a lawyer friend from up north. He typed up a non-disclosure agreement for us." He explained coldly. "Don't worry...he doesn't know your name or anything."

Marshall wanted to ignore Kiera's next plea for them to spend time together. "I don't think that's a good idea." He said, eyes looking up to Kiera once more. Seeing her was intoxicating. It challenged what he thought he wanted.

He cleared his throat and got up from his seat, turning his back from her and pacing, behind the table. He groaned...empathy seeping our like a fresh wound. He wasn't going to be specific about how he was feeling. But there was a part of him who gave a fuck about how Kiera was feeling. "Did you get hurt that night?"

There were a mix of emotions when Kiera walked into the secluded room to see Marshall. He had never been so mysterious about it before, but after a week of nothing, she was just glad he came. Even if she wasn’t greeted with one, Kiera’s red lips curled up at the sight of him. “Surprise,” she echoed, the softness of his tone matched.

Each click of heels against the floor echoed off the walls as she moved to close the distance between them. “I wasn’t expecting an apology.” Not in a cruel way, but it was kind of hard to hold a grudge when he had been hurt. The knowledge that once the raw pain had fizzled out, Marshall’s rib was still broken.

He slid forward the stack of papers. Her gaze flickered from him, to the papers, to him again. “Marsh, what is this?” Kiera asked, smile fading from her features. He had given her his word before and she had accepted it. A stack of papers seemed out of character for what they had been doing so far. Though it should have given her peace of mind, paired with his demeanour, it just seemed cold.

“Is this all you’re here for?” Considering he had said what he wasn’t there for. “I thought we would spend some time together. I’ve been worried. I missed you.” Perhaps naivety on Kiera’s part. “And I’m sorry if I pushed it on Christmas Eve, but I was scared. Doubt anyone noticed.” Especially because he was shrugging her off not even a moment later.

[marshmahmoudi]

𝐖𝐇𝐎: marshall mahmoudi & @mcthmancometh​​​​​

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓:​​ accusation city!

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: baylor's funeral - the part where u eat lol

Marshall didn't really enjoy eating at events like these. He once overheard the saying "you can't eat at everyone's house" and he really took that to heart. Southern hospatality only went so far after all...some people simply sucked at cooking. So he stood in the corner of the room as people picked up their plates and got in line to get some food. He had a specific target in mind...targets rather.

He wanted a first hand account from the hospital crew. He would be shocked if they showed up...especially with the way the town was talking about them. But he swore he saw Bobby Hugh earlier (he'd only talk to that clown if absolutely neccesary). His eyes landed on the lesser of two evils. August.

To get his attention Marshall threw a plastic fork at his head. Seemed like the sensible course of action. "Come over here."

[marshmahmoudi]

𝐖𝐇𝐎: marshall mahmoudi & @lieutenantbanks​​​​​

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓:​​ pillowtalk uwu

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: the mahmoudi residence. marshall's room

Marshall had invited Lulu over with the intention of doing what they normally did. Relatively meaningless sex. Unfortunately for Lulu...Marshall overslept. Maybe it was the 5th or 6th time Lulu rang the doorbell before Marshall came to from his stupor...he looked around the room....it was a hot mess. He hadn't let Sebastiana into his room since the injury...and he wasn't going to clean his own room in this day and age.

They'd have to do the do somewhere else. But first...he made his way to the front of the house. As fast as he could with his injury and overall nonchalant nature. Eventually, he flung the door open. He greeted Lulu with the shirtless (and now gently scared) bodice that was Marshall Mahmoudi. "You rang?" He asked.

But before she could say anything or step inside, he raised his hand in pause. "Did your brother and his friends murder that bitch Baylor? I don't really want to be implicated in any of that shit...as hot as this is." His tone was teasing...but Lulu would know there was a tiny bit of seriousness to his accusation.

[marshmahmoudi]

" I like to see you...but then again, that doesn't mean you mean that much to me "

Marshall Mahmoudi x Kiera Denver @glitteringpriime

a misty mixtape of sorts 001/???

[marshmahmoudi]

𝐖𝐇𝐎: marshall mahmoudi & @glitteringpriime​​​​​

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓:​​ a long awaited confrontation

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: unnamed strip club, in a back room

Marshall hadn't seen Kiera since the cemetery. This was mostly on his part. He got a rock lodged in his chest. He had to stay home and recover for the past week. And most importantly...he hadn't been in a strip club mood. It wasn't like he was avoiding her or anything. He certainly wasn't holding on to a grudge! He was recovering!

But over the past few days...Kiera was on his mind. He had to remind her who was in control of their dynamic, even if he was hurt (there's a double entendre there). So he'd called ahead and reserved a room in the club for he and Kiera. Paid upfront. Made sure management wouldn't tell Kiera who to expect.

And there he sat, glaring and awaiting their reunion. When she walked through the doors...dressed (if that was even the right word) as her alter ego, he didn't smile like he normally did. On the table between them was a stack of papers.

"Surprise." He said gently. "I'm not here to apologize so don't start. Or watch you dance. I have some paperwork for you." He slid the stack forward, a key word in the glob of text being "non-disclosure agreement". If she couldn't be trusted to hold her tongue, he had to protect himself. And that's what made him so angry. Until the cemetary he thought they might become friends (if that's even the right word).

[marshmahmoudi]

Marshall let his inquiry suspend in the air for a moment, his devilish eyes refusing to leave Austin. But finally, his smile returned. "Don't freeze alive this winter. I'd hate for mother nature to fuck you up before I can." And with that, Marshall gave Austin and condscending pat and the back and returned to helping the twins with their snowman. Cryptic. Cruel. Crazy. These were three C's Marshall Mahmoudi cherished.

THE END.

Seeing Marshall smile only made the pit in August's stomach grow. There was little real mirth to be found in that expression. It felt more like a dog baring its teeth, reminding its prey just how sharp they were. Not that August needed reminding. He was already far too aware that Marshall could rip his throat out in a second if he felt like it. He should've expected the follow-up question to his lie, and he guessed on some level he had, but his mind hadn't gotten quite far enough ahead to have an immediate answer to it — a slight hesitation coming from the fact that right now, he wasn't quite sure there was anyone who'd actually want to meet up with him. Usually Kiera would be his go to answer, but everything had felt so off with her lately, he wasn't sure if even she counted anymore. It was the best he had, though. It didn't matter in the end, because he didn't get a chance to answer, the name dying on his lips as Marshall stepped closer and kept talking. Everything in August wanted to take a step back, remove himself from the situation, but god, he hated how much of a fucking coward Marshall made him feel. Not much scared him, not anymore, and the last thing he wanted was for Marshall Mahmoudi to be the exception. So he stood his ground, kept his expression carefully neutral, even as he was flooded with trepidation over Marshall's final ominous question. "Friends seems like a strong word," he noted. It wasn't a label August took lightly, and not many had gotten to the point where he felt they'd earned it. Marshall sure as fuck wasn't one of them. "But I guess it depends on what it is. The favor, I mean." He couldn't think of a single thing Marshall could ask of him that he'd actually want to do, but it might be easier to keep the peace that way.

[marshmahmoudi]

( •̀ .̫ •́ )✧

Marshall smiled at August (a rarity). It was almost sweet how pathetic the guy was. He watched the other boy choose his words and tone carefully. As if Mahmoudi was some kind of ticking time bomb. If August just cut the right wires...he could avoid catastrophe. Marshall fed off of this kind of dynamic....hence the smirk. He took another bite of the carrot.

"Who are you running off to see, Gus Gus?" Marshall asked, condescension dripping off his tone the same way the carrot pieces did. This was another opportunity for a dead girlfriend joke. Yet again...he resisted. Aren't we all so proud?

He stepped closer to August. "Friends are important, you know." He added, still as condescending as ever. "One could say...we're friends...in a sense." He continued, his definition loose.

"Could I ask a friend for a favor before he scurries off?"

August had to quite literally bite his tongue to keep all the shit he wanted to say from spilling out of his mouth. He wasn't typically one to keep from saying what was on his mind, but every time Marshall showed his teeth and August thought about snapping back, he couldn't help but remember how it'd gone the last time he did. Not that he could remember much of the incident, but the way his consciousness had slipped away under Marshall's fist and the red-hot pain that seemed to be coursing through every inch of his body once he woke up in the hospital was memory enough. So instead, he kept his expression carefully neutral, his tone flat enough to match, as he glanced toward the old man and said, "Wow, I hadn't considered that. Awful nice of you to be so worried about me." There was sarcasm lacing through it anyways, that much was unavoidable, but the hope was by not getting too worked up, Marshall might just lose interest in him and wander off to go terrorize some other poor sap. "I'm on my way to meet someone, though," he added, looking to Marshall again. It was a lie, but Marshall didn't need to know that. It wasn't like he actually knew anything substantial about August, anyways — August had made damn sure to keep it that way. The less information he had, the less he could find some way to use it against August.

[marshmahmoudi]

(* ￣3)(ε￣ *)

A yes was all Marshall needed to grab Kiera's hand, and all but escort her to the horse-drawn carriages. Maybe it was the quiet glamour of it all, but he'd always wanted to ride in one of these. Kiera's appearance tonight was a happy accident. How depressing would it be for Marshall to ride in one alone?

Riding with a non-descript brunette however? Much better for the optics of it all. He purposefully positioned himself on the side of the carriage most visible to pedestrians, so that he'd be ready to block vision of her if necessary. But luckily enough...the path seemed to stray from the regular hustle and bustle of the Flurry Festival. Likely to keep the horses calm.

Once they had made some distance, Marshall relaxed. He let out a deep sigh and flung his head back. He man-spread a bit, creating a little less space for Kiera. His leg touching hers, less out of intimacy and more out of necessity.

His head turned to face Kiera. "Are you always this meek in real life?" He asked, piercing eye contact and all.

"Do you have some kind of traumatic backstory or something?"

He cared to know. He wanted to understand her. But he also wanted to protect himself. There had to be a reason a small-town girl with her disposition took to the life. Marshall's debauchery could be explained. His parents failed him...and I think that was pretty clear to most gossipers in Misty. What was Kiera's excuse?

The doll fidgeted in her hands. An outlet for the nervous energy coursing through her veins. “Yeah,” she agreed, though it was half hearted. “Yeah, I know no one’s watching us.” At least, no one was watching Kiera. When they were usually together, she was the object of the crowd’s attention. Marshall another customer as far as the room was concerned. Back at the Flurry Festival, he was the one that eyes followed.

I’m not done talking to you. Butterflies and anxiety were near indistinguishable when it came to Marshall, but there was no denying that he made her feel alive. Even without the neon lights of the club. “You’re right,” she caved. “It’s gonna be the most private option.” And of all people to spend the night talking to, Marshall was far from the worst.

Even though the choice of words mentally made Kiera stumble, there was physical stability in connection with his outstretched hand. “You know I’m not.” At least, as of recently. “Let’s talk, I wanna talk.”

[marshmahmoudi]

/◉_◉\

Abilene's words made him stop dead in his tracks. Well...as still was one could be while ice skating. He was under the impression that he was Sidni's first. More importantly, he was under the impression that he was Sidni's only sexual partner. "Nice deflection, Pryor." Marshall shot back...allowing her to skate away from him finally. "I think I'd know if Sidni and Baylor fucked."

But her deflection worked wonders. Marshall didn't know if Sidni had taken Baylor or Silas or any other of Misty's most eligible to bed. And he didn't even want to think about the idea of getting their sloppy seconds or any other sexual unmentionables. Marshall made his way off the ice rink in a huff, haphazardly clawing off his skates. He was going to find Sidni...and they were going to have some words about what Abilene just told him.

He looked back at Abilene one last time before he made off. She bested him in a game of psychological warfare this time. But in a sense...it fed his core belief about Abilene. She was far more experienced than she'd have the town believe. He'd seen a fissure line in their conversation today. But could he make the porcelain crack?

Time will tell.

THE END.

Of course he’d continue to bring something like this up - Marshall Mahmoudi thrived on finding cracks in her facade. Her fingers toyed with the cuff of her sleeve, a subtle tell of the nerves she refused to let him see. The ice beneath her skates felt more precarious with each glide, as though Marshall’s words had made the surface uneven.

"Talk about something, but I'm the point of discussion?" She asked, an almost laughable expression on her face. It was pity. Not the kind that made her feel bad for him, but that she was apparently such a force to be reckoned with that Marshall and his concubines couldn't help but bring up.

“It’s funny how people can’t seem to leave me out of things that got nothin’ to do with me. Makes you wonder what it is about my life that’s so interestin’ to everyone else.” She let her words linger, skating in silence for a few moments before glancing sideways at him. She knew what it was, even if she was pretending to play dumb.

Small towns fueled on gossip. It was like a neverending stomach that had to feed on one another. Who was sleeping with who? Who got into a fight with who? And somehow, Abilene could never be one to bring up - unless it had to do with her own perfectly curated image. Or lack thereof.

"Next time you and that freak are bumpin' uglies, maybe instead of bringing up my sexual history - of which is nonexistent - you should about hers when she was with one of those bachelor's," she snuffed up her nose. "Because she had to go get some stuff for the," Abilene shrugged and pointed downwards.

"Well, you know."

[marshmahmoudi]

CHRISTMAS IN CAROLINA !

Well, howdy, Misty Mountaineers! Long time, no see, what with Tilly takin' up all your attention lately! Now, I know the time for Christmas Cheer is almost over with, but I figured you might like to show me some of that good 'ol winter spirit before we ring in the New Year... Reblog this to participate, make sure to send some asks out to your fellow players - oh, if you're hankering for extra brownie points? Well, me and Cherie wouldn't say no to a little gift or two!

🎁: for a Christmas gift from my muse !

🎅: for a secret santa gift from my muse !

✒️: for a holiday themed note from my muse !

📺: for a christmas confession !

🥂: what's the drunkest you've ever been on christmas !

🎄: what is a holiday tradition your muse celebrates !

🍪: for a holiday treat from my muse !

🍽️: what is your muse bringing for christmas dinner ?

🌟: do you have any new years resolutions ?

❄️: do you like the holidays better with or without my muse ?

⛄: what's one of your favorite holiday memories with my muse ?

🎀: what's one of your favorite christmas memories ?

⚡: what's one of your worst christmas memories ?

💋: would you kiss my muse on new years ?

🛷: what's the furthest you've ever travelled for the holidays ?

🔥: roast chestnuts, or roast my muse !

🧣: who do you wish you were snuggled up with this christmas ?

[marshmahmoudi]

[marshmahmoudi]

[marshmahmoudi]

✍️(◔◡◔)

In Marshall's eyes, the doll was a gift. A representation of a moment in the real world they got to share together. He wasn't really a Christmas person. His nanny Sebastiana was the only person in his life that he received a gift from. Liliana was the only person he prepared a gift for. And his family wasn't really religious or ritualistic. He had nothing to cling to when the holiday season came around. But Kiera was a new part of his life...he'd seen more of her in the past few weeks than he'd care to admit. Weren't people supposed to give Christmas gifts to people like that?

He didn't expect resistance. His head tilted as he took another step closer to Kiera. "It's the Flurry Festival. Nobody is watching us." He said firmly. He wasn't planning on blowing her cover tonight. "Besides...I'm not done talking to you. We'll have a more private conversation in there than anywhere else." He continued convincing.

He understood the optics. But he was too buzzed and too tired to actually care. They could easily come up with an excuse if anyone saw them out together. Marshall could at least.

"Don't be a pussy. The world's already exceeded its pussy quota." He finally said, hand extended in Kiera's direction.

“I could imagine.” At least, she’d like to believe she could. The kind of lifestyle Marshall lived would always be out of Kiera’s reach. No matter how many bundles of cash he threw at her, attention he lavished on her – it didn’t seem to change anything. Was it the life she wanted? Kiera wasn’t even sure of that herself, but it seemed like a much more enjoyable thing to hate.

The way her stomach drops as he reached out for the person running the stand is a harsh reminder of their relationship. For the most part, Kiera liked Marshall. She did not trust him. Something she often felt guilty about when left with her thoughts for too long. While he wasn’t always kind, he had never been cruel to her. Hurt feelings on behalf of Auggie, but never brave enough to address them.

“Oh… no. I was just looking…” But the transaction was done as soon as it had started. “Thank you. Have a merry Christmas.” The formalities filling in for Marshall’s lack there of. Not like it mattered to him, considering he had already moved onto the next thing. Kiera following along like a well trained lap dog.

Rewarded by his sweet words. Now that you’re here. He noticed. She made a difference. Even if he was just saying it, they had the desired effect. The chill Kiera had felt down her spine a thing of the past. “Wha – here?”