He’s crawling in his window. “Long time no see you dirty slut.”

_{———LISTLESS WERE HIS NIGHTS SPENT ALONE IN HIS APARTMENT, grading papers and continuing research into the murders plaguing morioh-cho. mostly, he chose to prioritize his time with lesson plans for the next day, finding little in the way of leads. a bowl of edamame at his desk, the man hadn’t even noticed it was picked clean through until a familiar voice startled him back to reality. empty green husks of soy spilled to the ground as the ceramic container followed suit, shattered into an unrecognizable mess. in an instant he was on his feet, emerald eyes wide as disks as he stared the intruder down.}

❝ how—! ❞
he made no sudden movements. the vampire could end his life in an instant, they both knew it. frozen before the man even called his stand forward, he slowly backed towards the wall opposite from his window. dio was not a man he could fight alone. the only way he’d survive this was to get help, something he’d taken into account with both kujo and his grandfather. to think his little precaution would help for an unintended threat.

_{❝ how are you here? ❞}

lesfressange89:

Golden Cage

this is why mom doesn’t fucking love you @staff

QUID PRO QUO.

There is an air about the stranger that seems to mirror Anton’s own foreignness: a suggestion that they’re both outlanders walking unwelcoming terrain. Even out here, where the scorched earth accepts no one, they still exist in that quiet, airless space that exposes one loner to another. He doesn’t mind. In a way, he almost finds a certain understanding in him for the man’s self-contained complacency that makes the diner guests take the longer route just to avoid passing their table.

Anton’s wary gaze goes from the starved curl of that mouth to the now emptied cup of coffee, to the brown stain smudged across the rim. One of his hands drops almost listlessly on the bulge that’s visible under his jacket — not quite reaching for the metal weight that lies beneath the well-worn leather, just resting there for the time being. There are certain types of magnanimity he doesn’t have any need for.

“ What kinda favour would that be? ”

_{———❝ CAN I ORDER ANYTHING ELSE FOR YOU? a drink maybe? ❞
he finished his coffee, wiping his face with a checkered serviette as a waitress sneaked by to take the empty mug. crumpling the thin napkin, the man turned to face his newest acquaintance. green eyes settled into the dim lighting, in them the sort of glint that looked akin to a genuine smile, but only unsettled the stomach.}

_{❝ if not, then i’d like to speak with you in private. ❞
places like these were safer than others. public and enclosed, the diner set the stage for a rather claustrophobic assembly. he’d considered leaving his gun behind, a thought which did not last long knowing the game they played. there were measures to be had and safeguards to be kept. still, a risk or two could be taken in other ways. leaving the safety of a nest did not dull the eagle’s talons.}

ROOKIE.

@faustium liked this to get a starter!

Dodger grinned to himself, eyes closed as he enjoyed the sunlight. Funny thing ‘bout coffee shops–no one figured they was anything ‘sides what they was. And certainly, not much to go a’wondering ‘bout in a coffee shop. Another thing ‘bout coffee shops worth h’appreciating was the chatter. Folks near was always either talking ‘bout themselves or figuring ‘bout what to speak on next rather than worrying on anything else.

Of course, he’d gotten a place out of good sight from any CCTVs and there wasn’t any cameras to worry on elsewise. A little table just at the edge of the outdoor patio of the coffee shop was just the thing, he figured. And he nodded to the bloke as he approached, the body fitting the description he’d be given.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir. You wanting coffee mayhap? Tea?”

_{———FOUR THOUSAND YEARS ALIVE DID NOT MAKE METHUSELAH A FOOL. his work in london had hit a roadblock of sorts, a death in the network, a man he considered close. the underbelly of europe had evolved in his time as a gun for hire. still, assassins were a commodity that seemed to only grow older, a generational shift with their inability to pass on the trade. he wondered about that, seeing the young man beckoning him over. criminals could now die of natural causes and the young would take their place.}

_{❝ i’ve had my morning cup already. ❞
the statement fell as he sat himself down across from his newest contact. he had nothing on the kid, not a name nor an age. to his knowledge, his own information might not have been as secure. the name methuselah was, at best, a childish epithet.}

❝ so tell me about yourself ; forgive me if i’m a little dubious, you seem very young. ❞

JUDE.

^{Defense curls tongue but saying anything is, ironically, thought better of. Instead, he sinks toward the floor once he’s recovered from the shove to creep close to Elliot’s hunched form, crouching beside him and picking up the few pieces of glass that are a glimmer against the flooring. Keen eyes can see see where they’ve landed after projected from frame’s hold by the impact. He may have been ordered to leave, but he can’t find it in himself to obey as he should.}

^{Ears pressed to skull and expression far more easier to read, Jude’s exterior is not as hard as Elliot’s; seldom is it. He talks too fast and too much, lacks tact and pricks nerves, but there is an animal element of raw honesty to him in the presence of should – be threat and contender. So his ongoing apology is scrawled heavy all across his face, in the clench of jaw and the deep drip of pale brows while he wordlessly assists in cleaning up some of the mess he’s caused.}

^{That should be that, but he can’t help but stare at the low – top trashcan and think of the contents tossed inside. Was Elliot going to trash it, just like that? Was it to assuage his ego, to rebuke the sentimentality that had him hold onto such an old photo in the first place? He can’t wrap his head around the why, but cur puts himself at risk of even more violence to dig through glass and retrieve discarded image, slipping it from its velvet backing and thumbing over the tears that now mar the family photo. There are cuts through the center, but beneath one outstretched white rip there are still the sullen, intact eyes of a younger Elliot looking out.}

^{“ Elliot… I don’t want to go. I know you’re pissed, but I don’t want to leave you by yourself to ride it out alone. “ It’s a surprise to himself that voice doesn’t waver, but there is a pleading quality to its acquired softness. There’s a likely chance that the other man won’t ever let him come around again if he leaves him alone now to whatever upset he’s caused: it has to be worse beneath the surface of cool facade. “ And you should keep this… it’s not completely ruined. “ Jude rises to stand, backing up to give Elliot the space to do the same. “ It’s old but you’ve kept it all this time. “ So it obviously means something to you.}

_{———AS OLD AS HE WAS, THINGS FROZEN IN TIME DID NOT MATURE. there were parts unknown to most that he could not bear to show. long sleeves over branded skin and gloves worn to hide marks that never faded, he still looked like he did the day he died. there was weakness in his curse, weakness in everything he was up until now. destroying all traces of his shortcomings had only reminded him they existed.}

there was nothing he could do in that moment to prevent himself from shaking. embarrassment mixed with pain, creating the needed ingredients for the perfect storm. was there meaning in this? an ugly emotion that threatened to overflow? mockery had been his initial catalyst, but now it spilled into something closer to pity. pity, he despised more than anything. pity, he would not accept from anyone, most especially jude.

it fell apart like a tower of bricks. hunched over, the man lifted to escape before it all came down on top of him, only to stumble, to grab and steady, to hold jude there with his head hung low. the tremors in his hands hadn’t stopped, and now jude was able to feel them for himself as elliot gripped him by the arms. he lifted his head, face red and dangerously close to tears. mouth open like he intended to speak, the man wet his lips once before the tension broke and the tears began to roll down his face.

❝ fuck. ❞
he said once.

❝ fuck. ❞
he repeated, finally pushing jude aside. it was laughable, really, how much energy he wasted on the other. how his patience had managed a small miracle, not tearing the other apart, but instead swallowing his pride like the bitter pill it was. he let jude get him to the point of tears and he let him have it.

juuheart:

Hey… can someone send me like $30 so I can buy some pizza when domino’s opens or something. There is literally no food in my house and I haven’t eaten since like 3 p.m yesterday xushd and my mom doesn’t get paid until Friday

fashionworld-weekly:

Valentino Fall 2015 Couture | Details