#vicecomes

Non-committal smiles, pure politeness that only moved the corners of her mouth was the answer - teeth so bright, she could probably rip out his throat - and pretending not to notice any snide remark hidden in those words. Of course, it was a sport among them, all part of a Grand Game, to take it in and laugh. 

“My darling.” Words like honey that could hide a deadly calm, a hidden blade behind a back, the last warning before she took herself to definitely stab his smug face. But hadn’t she only been so smug herself now, enough to raise the attention of those children at one of the enless soirées that were so amusingly boring that she couldn’t be bothered to stay past dessert; at least when there were no individuals to raise her interest. But Cousin Eleanor had been taken aback by an off-hand remark, when she was already mentioning to the maid to fetch her coat. 

“I’ve been drinking for a decade before your dear father had even met your lovely mother." Of course, she could've said 'wanked off to her tits which were displayed for everyone to see, and by God, he wasn't the only one', but she wouldn't hurt him like that. Especially in front of his peers, and dear papa not even so far away. So her comment stayed behind a still toothy smile, licking the salt off her hand, taking the shot of Tequila and biting into the lemon wedge. "That one was just to get warmed up."

@vicecomes  /  warn your relatives.

charlie’s b-day shenanigans

❝ … don’t. i can barely recall the last time i cared about this day. ❞  except that’s not entirely true, is it?  he sits with one leg over the other, lazily taking sips of the champagne seemingly lost in thoughts, gaze following the million little bubbles with great interest. they look like tiny crystal balls, diamonds sparkling in the light of the fire. something else catches his gaze, then. golden - heavy on his pinky. sixteen. the last time his birthday mattered. not because it was a particularly good one - quite the contrary. the first year without richie. it was so conveniently timed one might have thought richie planned it. the ring as his last gift just in time for christmas … and charlie’s birthday. he remembers that one the most because he was almost swallowed whole by guilt. the guilt that he got so mad at richie for dying   JUST   then - overshadowing him in a way that would ensure that there’d never be a year again where charlie would matter. it was only when he remembered that it wasn’t like he mattered before … that the only one who ever even bothered   WAS   his brother that he found himself almost throwing up, almost choking on the ugliness of his own mind.          he also recalls rufus. can basically still hear him, can still see it. the dark green sweater like he stepped out of a fucking family christmas portrait, the hand on his shoulder squeezing just once, for comfort - and because it was expected of him… and he also recalls that it was rufus who got him to snap out of it. with a simple:   to his credit… gonna be hard to top that!     and charlie?  had laughed. and it isn’t lost on him how even now, rufus doesn’t wish him a happy birthday - for as emotionally dense as the other might be, he’s oddly sensible to certain things nobody would expect of him. so when charlie half mumbles a ❝ thank you. ❞ into the champagne flute, he fully expects saville to just let it go. ❝  champagne’s on you. ❞

♥   ──   she  watches  him  guzzle  wine  like  tomorrow’s  not  coming ,  lying  haphazardly  on  his  chest .  queenie  likes  the  proximity ,  rufus  is  as  warm  as  always .  the  strength  of  his  beating  heart  when  she  touches  where  his  ribs  would  cage  it  is  a  source  of  comfort . 

queenie  doesn’t  know  if  telling  him  to  stop  it  will  do  any  good .  she  drops  her  cheek  to  the  rhythmic  thumping ,  squeezing  her  eyes  shut .  she’s  drunk ,  the  throb  of  an  oncoming  hangover  on  the  distant  horizon . 

❛    you  are  so  loved .    ❜

she  settles  on  the  truth ,  her  hand  rising  to  find  the  curve  of  his  jaw .  she  rests  her  chin  on  his  chest ,  looking  at  him  with  eyes  that  are  wet  and  green . 

❛    i  dunno  what  i’d  do  with  myself  if  you  died .    ❜

maybe  he  meant  it  as  a  joke ,  a  joke  she’s  now  taking  too  far .  but  queenie  grabs  fistfuls  of  his  shirt ,  she  tries  to  ignore  the  stinging  in  her  vision . 

❛   it’d  kill  me ,  too .    ❜