お香典

@okoden

"A FUCKING PIERCING?"

God forbid they have a normal day out. Grab a coffee, play some snooker, perhaps? No. For some reason Alfendi could not fathom, every aspect of his life had to involve blood and mutilation-- and yes, it was to a lesser degree, but the point remained.

@okoden

robin is sitting in a leather chair positioned under some framed prints. the models in the pictures are all showcasing piercings, assuming it's the work of the owner of the studio they're in right now. she leans over to julian with her nose wrinkled, "i feel like we're in hannibal lector's basement. are you sure he's just gonna pierce you?"

˖ ‧ ᯓ ☦︎ ▒ . ❘❘❘     ──── ilya holds up his hand as if to say stop talking in / @okoden's direction . 

❛ do not fucking say cupcakes . ❜ ilya pulls a face , halfway disgusted at the thought of his friend being perceived by anyone as sexual . he knows julian is sort of a sex symbol , defying gendered expectations in his clothing and looks . people told ilya he was a sex symbol , the russian menace . he was in his own unique field , mostly appreciated by women for his looks and by men for his prowess . it was an entirely different culture , they didn’t pay ilya to look good , but it sure did help . ilya got his own handful of sponsors and commercials . nowhere near the amount as shane hollander , evident in the ads he saw everywhere that haunted his every waking moment . it was a constant reminder that the man he could not have was wanted by everyone . probably dads too , like julian . ──── ❛ and what thee fuck is a healing breath ? ❜

a shrug settles on ilya’s shoulders . he had never considered his teammates as ‘ hot bitches ’ before . they were men he got sweaty and gross with , and not in a hot way . they were coworkers . yet ilya could still see why others would find them attractive too . sure , it wasn’t his taste , the big burly men soaring upwards of six feet - eight inches with biceps the size of christmas hams . it made sense that others would like that , especially julian . he apparently had a thing for dad bods that ilya was now curling his lip at uncomfortably . ──── ❛ i will see what i can do . for you . you can not actually think all of my teammates are hot though , right ? ❜

hazel eyes widen at the thought of someone ilya knew hooking up with jules . this was back before ilya even knew jules , and yet their paths could have potentially crossed in this strange way . it makes him stomach swirl , of course other hockey players were gay , it was inevitable . and yet an unfiltered sense of hope curls through him . if other people could sleep with who they wanted , even famous ones , why couldn’t ilya ? ever the gossip , ilya leans forward slightly , shoving more food in his mouth .      ────      ❛ you used to sleep with hockey player ? who ? what team does he play for ? ok , obviously he likes men but i mean , which hockey team ?  ❜

ilya's sudden interest amuses julian. this feels like a night out with the girls from riotess, where he regales them with stories from his many hookups and they all listen on in abject horror, the band comprised of mostly lesbians. ilya has the same face right now that babs does whenever julian asks the band to guess who he slept with last. ❝ i don't remember, it's been a while. definitely a new york team though, ❞ he spills with a shrug, valley girl accent strongest on the definitely.

❝  nothing  new  there,  man.  someone  is  always  trying  to  slaughter  us.  they  should  get  a  new  hobby,  i've  heard  great  things  about  padel.  ❞  richard  tries  to  keep  himself  cynical,  even  when  his  frantic  heart  is  bordering  on  hopeful.  today  is  a  good  day      ;      the  kind  of  day  where  breathing  doesn't  feel  like  inhaling  fire  through  scarred  lungs.  tomorrow  will  suck  again.  it  always  does  !  right  now,  though  [  .  .  .  ]  right  now  he  gets  to  forget.  he  gets  to  experience  the  simple  joys  of  casually  brushing  against  his  own  neck,  without  immediate  regret  and  whimpering  a  moment  later.

today,  he  gets  to  pretend  that  being  able  to  sit  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake  is  a  worthy  tradeoff  for  all  the  days  during  which  he  can  only  float  upside  down.

The  light  of  the  moon  streaks  delicately  through  the  trees,  highlighting  the  curls  of  smoke  that  fall  between  both  their  lips.  The  clouded   ᴾᴸᵁᴹᴱ  thickens  as  Lestat  huffs  out  something  akin  to  soft  laughter.  Though  he  might  have  been  the  apex  predator  of  every  room  he  walked  into,  he  was  most  certainly  not  the  only  evil  beast  that  prowled  through  shadows  in  the dead of  night.  

“Well,  I  don’t  live  here  anymore,”  Lestat  teases  lightly  as  the  green, lush  lungs  that encapsulated the  edges  of  Paris  engulfed  them entirely. “But  it  wasn’t  far  from  here  that  I  had  buried  myself  in  the  dirt  for  nearly  a  century.”

so he spends his free time roaming, finding trouble to get into. if he cannot find peace then he will make his own. most of the time this means mirroring his first life, filling it with vices and things to indulge in. when illicit substances and trysts are not enough, he sleeps, though his body never feels any real need to recharge.

the truth is that immortality would suit julian if he desired it, but he's never wanted to shed anything more. sometimes he imagines himself peeling away the layers of his skin and feathers until he is nothing, as if he could peel away his divinity with it, though he knows by now both would simply regenerate with time.

❝  you're  such  a  clever  boy.  see,  this  is  why  i  don't  put  every  drink  on  your  tab.  ❞  if  it  is  a  kind  shoulder  to  cry  on  that  he  seeks,  she  is  the  wrong  woman  for  the  job.  her  shoulders  are  hostile  architecture,  urban  design  made  to  keep  people  away.  adelé  is  all  tall  tale  and  customer  service  in  the  shape  of  a  headbutt  to  the  face,  but  with  cheap  drinks  to  go  along  with  it.  even  now,  years  after  she  grew  into  her  teeth,  she  is  still  bound  to  the  art  of  calling  herself  ❛ lady  ❜  and  omitting  the  truly  gruesome  details  to  make  herself  somewhat  appealing  to  the  regular  customer.

not  that  he  is  regular        ⎯⎯⎯       julian  understands  the  game  better  than  most,  and  that  makes  him  particularly  special.

❝  what  kind  of  pest  are  you  willing  to  deal  with  ?  ❞  she  leans  closer,  elbow  pressed  against  the  sticky  mess  of  her  bar,  hand  propping  up  her  cheek.  a  mock  imitation  of  boredom,  even  when  she  is  incredibly  interested  in  his  offer.  ❝  because  i  have  heard  word  of  a  rat,  but  it  might  be  a  big  game  for  someone  coming  back.  might  want  to  start  with  flies  first.  ❞

VELVET AND VINYL, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING LESTAT DE LIONCOURT & JULIAN DEVEREAUX.

𝓛estat  didn’t  always  play  well  with  others.  Quite  notoriously  so,  as  if  it  were  a  compulsion,  he  seemed  to  revolt  against  every  command,  rule,  or  mere  suggestion  he’d  ever  been  given.  A  true rebel  at  heart,  he’d  heard  …  though,  typically,  this  resulted  in  him  being  a  pain  in  the  ass  to  work  with.  His  own  bandmates  thought  it  a  complete miracle  that  he’d  even  bothered  to  show  up  to  this  session  —  their  frustration  evident,  though  they  dare  not  voice  it  out  of  fear  of  whatever  rage  simmered  and  lurked  beneath  the  surface  of  the  vampire’s  skin.  

When  he  had  so  sloppily  waltzed  into  the  room,  decked  out  in  the  finest  silks  and  leather  that money  could  buy,  lips  soaked  in  the  aftermath  of  a  feeding  frenzy,  Lestat  appeared  to  be  a  man  on  the  edge.  Drunken  from  the  blood,  disorderly,  mere  moments  away  from  a  crash  out  and  held  together  by  only  the  most  threadbare  of  seams.  Thick  framed  sunglasses  sat  perched  on  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  obscuring  half  of  his  vibrant  blue  eyes.  Everything  in  his  demeanor  screamed  chaotic  boredom  —  like  a  madman  fixing  for  some  kind  of  stimulus,  something  to  soak  up  the  dullness  of  eternity.  

he does not share the same fear of the man in front of him as the others in the room do. ignorance of the truth has a lot to do with this, though with how many brushes with death julian has had within the past few years thanks to his struggle with addiction, it is difficult to say whether or not he would truly be afraid if he was privy to the same information.

as much as julian doesn't find anything interesting about higher education, he listens intently when theo mentions his own experience in connection to the social aspect. he likes to think he's a better host than any frat boy could ever hope to be. perhaps that should be his new mission this summer: throwing the best party his apartment building has ever seen. he makes a mental note of it. ❝ no idea what a slip joint is, but i owe you one. ❞

julian  offers  some  casual  peptalk  that  makes  mikasa  huff  quietly  and  shake  her  head  at  the  absurdity  of  having  even  half  of  the  confidence  julian  does.  she  doesn't  say  it  outright,  but  she  admires  him  for  it.

as they walk along the sidewalk in the direction of the gas station, julian looks over at mikasa and smiles softly. for all of the grief he gives her about being more social, he really does love her for the person she is. what a rare and beautiful thing to find true friendship in a world that is not always the most kind to its inhabitants.

he  had  come  to  the  show  expecting  good  live  music,  maybe  smoke  a  joint  out  back  and  relax  for  one  night.  the  show  had  been  really  good,  eddie  not  wanting  the  night  to  end  just  yet.  it's  the  same  kind  of  feeling  he  gets  chasing  tornado's,  heart  beating  faster.

THE CRUX, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING BUCKY BARNES AND JULIAN DEVEREAUX.

𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡,       UNDERGROUND  FACILITY.      Every  moment  of  rest  that  he  could  manage  to  scrape  together  was  always  inevitably  shattered  by  a  knock  on  the  door,  a  ring  of  the  phone.  Somebody,  somewhere,  needing  something  from  him.  Pleading  their  cases,  spinning  words  together  he  couldn’t  find  it  in  himself  to  sweep  under  the  rug.  (  𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂  𝙸𝚂  𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃  𝚈𝙾𝚄’𝚁𝙴  𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝚃  𝙵𝙾𝚁,  𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙴𝚁.  )

This  time  was  hardly  any  different.  Same  shit,  different  day       …       the  forces  of  evil  conspiring  with  their  vapid  ideas  of  world  domination,  forever perpetuating  human  suffering.  The  experiments.  It  was  always  experiments.  Animals,  humans,  men,  women,  children,  didn’t  seem  to  matter.  These  two  were  half  living  proof  of  such  a  thing,  having  been  sucked  into  the  vortex  of  battery  time  and  time  again.  

❝  they  said  you  were  a  grumpy  old  man,  ❞  he  lies  for  his  own  entertainment  as  he  adjusts  the  leather  glove  on  his  right  hand  and  slides  a  drawer open, disappointed at the absence of contents,  ❝ and i was all— great! that's my type! ❞ julian grins, entirely too cheshire-like for the serious task at hand. a coping mechanism, he'd rather make light of everything than dwell on the past. he is a force to be reckoned with now ... no one can capture and drag him back into a lab for further research. no one can rip away his autonomy again and force him to endure more unbearable pain.

˖ ‧ ᯓ ☦︎ ▒ . ❘❘❘     ──── ilya did not typically get nervous . / @okoden was right , he had no reason to be . 

brushing his earlobe with his forefinger and his thumb , soothing the red and nervous skin with his frozen hands , ilya forces himself to take a deep breath , eyes darting to his friend across the aisle . ilya had dragged julian there to get snacks and cigarettes , something to ease the edge in his gut . get yourself together , rozanov . julian wasn’t wrong , just not for the reason anyone thought . of course shane would say yes , the only one more obsessed with their boyfriend than ilya was shane . and they were literally dating each other . grabbing a bag of salt & vinegar chips and a can of coke , ilya pulls a face .        ────      ❛ i am not nervous that he will say no , shithead . he likes me very much ... i just want it to be perfect for him . shane has never had this sort of thing before and he deserves something nice  . he  is  important  to  me  , i want him to remember it forever .  ❜

it's  everything  he's  wanted  and  more,  julian's  soft  lips  pressed  against  his,  hands  grasping  clothes,  slipping  under  to  palm  at  warm  skin.  eddie  pulls  back  just  enough  to  look  at  him  again,  dragging  his  lips  across  the  other  man's  jaw  just as  he  dips  back  in.

the lips against his jaw are like satin, julian's eyes fluttering shut at the comfort of them. his own lips part with a quiet sigh, still moving blindly through the cafe's kitchen until his lower back makes contact with a counter. being crowded against anything at all has never been something julian has particularly enjoyed, but in the moment he doesn't care, the bliss unfolding before him at the forefront of his mind.