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@bvdsigns
BVDSIGNS. a multi-muse, dependent oc blog for willowglenhq. written by frankie.
JULIAN KOENIG. 32, industrial designer. intro + connections. posts. inspo. JESSE GONZALES. 46, writer/comedian. intro + connections. posts. inspo.
header.
tongue sticks out as his middle finger makes its appearance . maybe it was a twin thing but the two always made fun of the other , especially in ways that others would find disturbing . the koenigs had a certain sense of humor . one that only their family understood . her drink was nearly gone , a sigh coming from lips as she took the last swig ; setting the empty glass on the small round table . eyes follow his movements as he pulls a pack of smokes from his pocket and grabbing one with his teeth .
❝ i'm like mother in the way . not one for parties or dancing . ❞ once the pack landed between them , talia grabbed one herself , leaning over to him for a light . a puff of smoke left her rouged lips , cigarette held between pointer and middle digit . ❝ you would like it if you actually gave a damn . but its not for everyone , i know that . ❞ pinkies intertwine for a few seconds before dropping . a few more puffs of smoke leave lips , the two sitting in the silence for a moment . ❝ you burn to a crisp , ju . even with 100 spf , you turn red like a lobster . we all do . the curse of the koenigs , i guess . ❞ she raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at the other , a small laugh leaving lips . ❝ babe , you can't even swim . how do you think you're going to surf ? you can do that , i'll be on the pier , watching . ❞
if you actually give a damn did sting just a little bit despite his constant pretending that he couldn't care less about her interests, because he did, more so because she did, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't find some of the topics she talked about fascinating or that he didn't watch youtube videos of them when he was bored. "hey, that's not fair, you think i know more about fuckin'... karl marx than i need to if i didn't give a shit?" shot her a dirty look as if he was being accused of something much worse, as if apathy can be likened to murder. "so you're just gonna let me do that on my own and drown, then. good to know." adapted a more somber tone as he turned the tables on her. and maybe a part of him did want her to feel bad just like how she inadvertently made him feel bad from a seemingly tiny comment she'd made.
░░░ 𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗥 : 𝟭𝟬 𝗮𝗺 , 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝘁
⤷ * 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘀 ( 3 / 5 )
conrad thought he'd be used to it by now : the schmoozing , the shows of concern over someone's unimportant problems , the free things he had to act overly gracious for . but the truth is , he hadn't really realized how demanding the mayor's office was . sure , conrad had pictured town halls , budget meetings , public appearances . . . but this ? strolling along at the sunday farmer's market , trying ( and failing ) to look invisible ? this was the worst part . he can feel someone creeping up behind him again , a secret prayer sent upstairs that it isn't mrs . taylor again coming to remind him that the teenagers at the skatepark must be stopped . he fixes his face into an approachable expression and turns toward them . “ oh ! well , good mornin' , ” almost a look of relief crossing his face as he takes in the person opposite him . he immediately starts a conversation , almost to save himself the hassle of talking shop . “ i'll tell you what — every week i tell myself i'm gon' get here in time for the cinnamon rolls . n' every week , i get here too late . i'm startin' to think they're just a myth . ” he doesn't even care for cinnamon rolls , but they don't need to know that . . .
he hadn't meant to start a conversation with the mayor, embarrassingly mistook him for another guy he knew with equally beautiful salt-and-pepper hair and the same broad-backed silhouette. he managed to compose himself just enough from the man's own tendency to yap like he was still campaigning, like he didn't already have his name on the door of the mayor's office (like his parents hadn't been generous in making absolutely sure to have it there). "if you want cinnamon rolls, i know a guy." or a girl. he did have a chit to call in with ollie. plastic cup crunched in his grip as he slurped the bottom of his lemonade through the now tattered straw, not-so subtly sizing the mayor up in his sunday wear as they walked in step. "hey, do you wear lifts? you seem shorter." had like an inch over the guy, but he remembered him to be taller in his mind. or maybe he associated authority figures with being bigger somehow.
──── julian might've said she didn't have to pay him , but ollie would find a way to anyways , seemingly intrigued by the offer of treats she decides that those will be their currency . " whatever you want . . . i've never met a sweet treat i couldn't bake ⸺ unless it's macarons , but we don't talk about macarons , " had self inflicted trauma from one too many failed attempts , latest of which had almost set her kitchen on fire after she'd forgotten to take them out of the oven . " careful , old man , " she teases , noticing the hesitance in getting up , a hand stuck out for help in case he needed it . cleaning up their mess doesn't stop her from listening , sound of legos collecting into the box an ambient background noise to the conversation at hand . " oooh , can i see it ? the printer in your office and the designs , i mean ⸺ i always forget you're like a fancy designer guy , i should probably come to you for help more often if i'm being honest , " was more of a canvas artist but some projects required a grasp of schematics she could never quite get a hold of . she's quick to shove the lego box near the front door , would remind him to grab it before he left for the night . hand flies to slap over mouth as his mispeak , though still hard to stop the laugh from bubbling past it . " tit for tat, sweetheart ⸺ but yea , i'd love to go see it . . . is it at your house ? i don't think i've ever even seen the inside of your house , " always had a habit of inviting people over to hers instead , a knack for the role of the doting host that she sometimes wasn't ready to give up . feet shuffle towards her door , slipped into a pair of uggs that sat right next it's frame , " can we stop for a snack somewhere in between though ? all that lego building , " really lack thereof , but alas , " made me so hungry . . . i feel like i need , like ⸺ a giant burger or something . "
"huh. well, i gotta tell ya, my standards for desserts are pretty high, but i just might take you up on that offer one of these days." filed the information away for when he felt like something sweet and he was in the neighborhood. he had to have a sugar dealer, too, right? fancy designer guy was a generous description, a small huff escaping him at the notion. “it’s not as glamorous as you might think. but yeah, sure. my office is in sterling tower, just let me know if you’re dropping by in advance so i can show you around, ‘cause i’m not always there.” felt like an important person with other, more important appointments, did he? felt pretty damn good saying that out loud. he should've said that he'd have to pencil her in or whatever busy people liked to say. maybe next time. he started lacing up his ivory chucks, once again bent into a shape his body was no longer made for, as ollie rounded up the last of the stray legos into the box. "aw, well, there's not much to see at my place." straightened himself up with a quiet groan. "basically just a smaller version of everything in the office. but yeah, we can go there, too, if you want. i don't got a lot of stuff. but i got a nintendo switch and a tv." he leaned on the wall next to the door, hands pinned behind his back as he watched ollie put on her shoes. food sounded good, his stomach grumbling in a pavlovian response. "sure. flo's?"
ꗃ ˖ ⊹ bonnie repeated jesse's order to the employee through the speaker before receiving the universal drive-thru instruction to pull forward. with a quick " thank you , babe , " she eased her foot onto the gas and rolled toward the next window. " yes , " she replied confidently , as if there had never been another possible answer. bonnie knew she was a lot. she'd been told her entire life. too loud , too opinionated , too dramatic , too social. at some point she'd simply decided that sounded like everybody else's problem.
" why ? " she asked, turning in her seat just enough to look at him. one perfectly shaped brow lifted as a grin tugged at her mouth. “ you can't handle it ? ” she waggled her brows before turning her attention back to the road. " because i should warn you , this is actually me being restrained. " bonnie gestured vaguely toward herself. “ you should've met me in college. i was a menace to society. ” the mercedes crawled forward another few feet before she glanced back at him again. " seriously though , if your complaint is that i'm too charming , too funny , and too pretty , i don't know what to tell you. " she sighed dramatically. " some people simply have heavier burdens to carry. "
SHE ARCHED HER BROW AT HIM and jesse could swear he heard a sword unsheathed, unable to shake the feeling that his life was in danger inside the vehicle. again, at a burger king drive-thru. a hand flew up to the handle with a vice grip as the car shook upon leaving the window. "hey, i didn't say that. no one's saying that, uh-uh." huffed a nervous chuckle as he shifted in his seat, now facing the windshield. "i guess you kinda have to be intense. for your job, i mean. dealin' with a bunch of walking concussions." loosened his grip around the handle as they slowed behind another car in line before dropping his hand back in his lap. "let me guess... only girl, grew up with brothers?" glanced towards her expectantly, as if he dared her to say otherwise. "i used to date a girl who had six. six. and she was smack dab in the middle. i tell ya, she was..." he shook his head, decided then to choose his next words carefully. "it was like having a road manager and a girlfriend in one. kept things, uh... interesting, for sure."
status. closed starter for pearl vaughn-palmer @r3spair. location. atlas, around lunchtime.
THE WOMAN WAS EATING. his thing could wait well after, but a public pearl vaughn-palmer sighting was so rare that he was afraid that if he let this go now, the moment might pass into extinction. besides, what was he gonna do? sit at another table and wait for her to finish like a creep? ambushing her meal wasn't much better, but at least it wasn't worse, right? "i know, i know... you're having your me time, and before you throw your food in my face—please don't do that, by the way, this shirt is expensive—i'd like you to just- can you hear me out? please?" down on one knee, hands pressed together over the table as if in prayer to the blessed pearl, patron saint of those unmarred by comedy. "i'll pay for lunch. please."
that is somewhere that the twins differed . he couldn't stand boring , always needing excitement and change in his life . talia , on the other hand , liked structure . she liked things to be one way and not change . ❝ ju , do we need to get you some help with the porn addiction ? i can hear you at all hours of the night . fuck , give your damn junk a rest . ❞ she said with an eye roll , drinking another long sip of her wine . ❝ you use it your way , i use it mine . ❞ blue orbs watch the other before gaze drifts back to the house , sighing as she watched the hustle and bustle inside . ❝ hey now , i still am fun . just in a different way . ❞ that was a lie . talia's idea of fun was sitting on the couch watching history channel , crocheting a new scarf for her dog . she was a grandma , he got that right . ❝ that you did . seems like i am rubbing off on you , brother . you'll be loving sociology by the time we're done . ❞ the brunette remarks with a small excited clap . she rolls her eyes at his comment , choosing to ignore it rather than speak on it . ❝ you didn't have to go on that trip , you know ? i told you it was a work thing . but we had fun , right ? and we'll have fun on this trip ! and i promise not to be too much into work , okay ? just let me have like an hour per city and then i'll put it up . pinky promise . ❞ talia says , sticking out her right pinky to him like they did as kids .
A SHIT-EATING GRIN was paired with his middle finger, stuck out for her benefit at the retaliation he received. they were used to ragging on each other like this. sometimes he forgot that he couldn't—shouldn't—do that with other people, at least other people who didn't know their way around the koenig sense of humor. "touché, pussy cat." he took a sip of his drink, disappointed to find out that the ice had melted much more quickly than anticipated and had started to water it down. he pulled a face and set the glass aside, probably won't touch it for the rest of the night. a pack of lights instead took its place, pulling a cigarette out with his mouth.
"i know you think that," said in response to his sister dying on the hill of her allegedly 'different' kind of fun, and as if to dismiss the notion entirely, offered talia the pack he laid out on the small round table between them. "i know you think that, too." huffed amusedly at how she thought she could change his mind about her favorite subject, words muffled as he lit the cigarette between his lips. pinky interlocked with hers, he knew he'd give her more than an hour anyway and pretend he'd lost track of time. it was the least he could do for her agreeing to go on the trip with him in the first place. "well, i dunno about you, but i'm lookin' forward to the beaches." the koenigs didn't tan—they burned, but that didn't stop julian from seeking out open waters like he was a trout in a past life. a trout who never learned how to swim beyond a doggy paddle, but he loved the ocean regardless. "we should take surfing lessons once we get to california."
" my weiner ? what the fuck , " brooks laughs , a sputtering sound that devolves into a wet cough , clapping himself on the chest violently as if to tuck it back into his lungs where it belongs . " jesus . don't make me laugh like that , i'm fallin' apart here . " he rubs at his eyes , realizing that it's getting late . but he's just done a line , and even though it should wear off soon enough , brooks is considering what else he's got stashed away to help him get some semblance of rest . " yeah , i would like to know , " he tells julian , red eyes looking pointedly at him , a goofy grin on lips . brooks hums , as though he understands julian's situation . " yeah , but do you like him , or something ? like . . . are you tryin' to make it — more , or whatever . . . " he smiles at julian's following words , a hand lovingly clapped onto his buddy's knee , " yeah , this is exactly what i do with 'em . just sit here and get fucked up , " he lies . he feels his phone buzz in his pocket , pulling it out to stare at it with swimming gaze . " what does that say ? " he shows julian the screen , pointing at the message with the cigarette , " is it about work ? god , they won't leave me the fuck alone . " he chucks the phone onto the rug , head flopping back onto the back of the couch as he stares blankly at the ceiling . " hey , maybe you've got a good thing goin' — i like making money , but i swear i work like , every minute that i'm awake . i can't even turn off my phone because what if something happens ? your half - employed thing sounds really good right about now . "
FEATURES SOFTENED INTO A SATISFIED SMIRK at brooks' reaction; it probably wasn't even that funny, but he figured they were toeing the line between fatigue-induced delirium and getting blitzed, so it 1) didn't matter and 2) was precisely the entire point of this whole thing. which was to say, to feel nothing and feel everything, all at once, but the things they did not want to feel. and as much as he appreciated the interest brooks held towards his romantic life, if it could even be called that, the emotions that came with talking about it categorically belonged in those firewalled things. "do i like- what are we, a pair of sixth grade girls? fuck that." the potency of his disgust with which the words were uttered enhanced for brooks' sake, like antiseptic administered to the poisoned, open wound of his own ego. he watched the burning tip of his cigarette slowly consume the rest of the stick until it was close enough to the filter to make it necessary to hold between his thumb and forefinger. brain running a mile a minute, he could feel his own thoughts pulsating in his temples when brooks ripped his attention from the cigarette and redirected it towards the phone. it took a second for his eyes to pull focus and use the faculties he just remembered he had to read the text message, tugging brooks' wrist closer as he narrowed his eyes at the screen and strung together just enough context to answer brooks, releasing him from his grip. "it's a mr. weiguo... something about moving a meeting or..." he shrugged, but with the way the phone trick-flipped across the carpet like an olympian gold medalist, julian surmised that, as with most things tonight, it no longer mattered. he felt bad for his friend, truly. it was like watching spongebob try to get out of rock bottom except this time he never catches the bus, just goes back and forth and back and forth between the vending machine and the bus stop. it must be a terrible thing, to be burdened by your own greatness. it was why julian preferred to be mediocre. right, that was the reason why. "hey, here's a crazy idea that i totally have never suggested before," uncanny monotone implied that it had already been mentioned, but never entertained. he dragged his gaze from the phone discarded five feet away, vibrating against the hardwood with another message, then towards brooks. "why don't you quit? you've probably got enough saved to start your own business, be your own boss, so why don't you?" one final hit and he put out the cigarette on the glass tabletop. "or maybe you wanna stop blowin' me off and take me up on that joint venture offer?" a less appealing option, but there was always an open invite to casa julian. his own grotesque little house of mouse—where dreams go to die.
location: near pharmacy for: @bvdsigns - dealer's choice
the hood of his car's up in the pharmacy parking lot , standing in the dull afternoon glare with the faintly embarrassed patience of a man accustomed to experts and currently surrounded by none.
the car is not broken , probably. it has only begun making a small , accusatory sound from somewhere inside the engine , the kind his father would have identified before angelo finished describing it. three seconds , maybe less , then a look over the hood that would have contained both instruction and exasperation — you hear that and kept drivin' boy ?!
he braces one hand on the frame and looks down into the machinery , willing competence out of stillness.
“ you any good with cars , or we both gon' look concerned at it ? ”
HE WAS GOING TO TOWN on a cherry popsicle in one hand, his refilled prescriptions in the other, when he saw the ace carter just casually hanging in the parking lot. or, stranded was probably more like it, judging by the state of his stalled vehicle. now, julian knew nothing about cars other than he can drive one as well as the next guy, but ask him anything about what's under the hood and all you'd get for your trouble was a blank stare and an indifferent shrug. but it wasn't everyday that he got to talk to a basketball legend, and he decided to make the most out of a rare situation. "bad spark plugs," pulled right out of his ass with the confidence of a retired mechanic that even he was surprised at himself. he didn't know where he got that from, must've just parroted something he'd heard from one of his garage visits. didn't realize he'd even retained that information or that he'd been paying attention at all. it's amazing what the human brain can do. "mind if i take a look?" popsicle dripped onto the asphalt as he gestured towards the car.
BEACH RATS (2017) | dir. Eliza Hittman “So you’re not out.”
i love having secrets for no reason that arent scandalous or sensitive…like going to cvs but refusing to tell anyone at all abt it bc i decide that information is just for me bc i feel like it
THE KILLING / 1x02
ft. talia @fcksgone
❝ there is nothing wrong with boring , dear brother . ❞ the femme remarks , rolling bright blue orbs . it was true , back in her younger years she had been 'crazy' . she'd let her younger brother rope her into some strange situations . she enjoyed herself , yes . but as she grew , her mindset changed . now doing anything out of the ordinary scared her . ❝ no , now you've spoken it into fruition . meaning it is going to happen . that's how the universe works . do you read any of the articles i send you ? ❞ she takes another sip of her wine before continuing . ❝ i didn't say there was anything wrong with having twins . that's just not in my life plan . but if the heavenly father blesses with me with twins of my own , i will not complain . happy ? ❞ manicured hand lifts to chest as a scoff leaves rouged lips . ❝ stuck is not the word i would have used , but alright . ❞ head cocked to the side as his smile disappeared with her mentioning work . he should know that's all she thinks about nowadays . ❝ excuse me ? i teach sociology . i live for these failed utopias . i want to study why they didn't work out . can't i do a little bit ? please ? ❞ she asks with a pout and a bat of her eyelashes . ❝ well that's not creepy at all . . . ❞ she says with a soft laugh .
UNFORTUNATELY, julian would rather die than be boring. he might even die trying not to be boring, which would be the self-fulfilling prophecy of the century. at least his tombstone will be interesting. "oh, fuck off. if i had the power to will things into existence, i would've been on time's 30 under 30 seven years ago. you'll be fine." julian rolled his eyes. "and no, i don't read your articles, grandma. that's not how you use the internet. it's supposed to be for cute cat videos and ignoring scam messages from your boomer relatives and porn." julian leaned back deeper into his chair, glass still lifted with his pinky sticking out as he continued to swirl it in his hand—something he liked to do when they were children to mock their parents' friends at the country club. he groaned at his sister's response; leave it to talia to rely on divine bureaucracy for her 'life plan'. "oh, tally... you used to be fun." clicked his tongue disappointingly at her as he shook his head. "you know what? that's on me, actually. i walked right into that one. my bad." yes, he'd chosen a sociology-themed road trip for his sociology nut of a sister without even realizing it. perhaps, subconsciously, he shared the same interests as her no matter how much he liked to give her shit for it. "that depends on your definition of 'a little bit'. 'cause sometimes your 'a little bit' is me spending three fucking hours waiting for you in that museum in fucking florence while you debated whether a fifteenth century grain tax was proto-capitalist." he didn't know what that meant; it was just one of the many useless keywords he'd accumulated in his brain from letting her drone on and on and on about her work in the background.
" ... how the fuck d'you get in the house ? " a question asked with bewilderment, sleep just barely out of his eyes as he descends from stairs. he should be used to it by now, a frequent guest that makes himself more than comfortable without permission. he's got half of a shirt on, tugging it with a grunt of effort while standing in the living room, still dawned in his pajamas. " jesse, you know we're more than fine havin' you here, but ... " hands find themselves threading through the greyed curls on the back of his head, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth in thought. " you gotta at least give us a warning, okay ? we coulda been ... busy. " indecent, he means. he's still a guest, merrick owes him that respect. a yawn wreaks through his body with a shiver, plopping down beside the other with a groan. " keep your voice down, gia's gettin' her rest. "
JESSE GLANCED AT HIS WATCH, then at merrick, then at the foreboding stairs where gianna could come barreling down any minute, girl from the grudge style, when she realizes her man is no longer in bed. this quickly dawned on jesse, whose eyes widened as he was struck with the possibility, hand shooting up to his mouth. "oh, no... you guys weren't-" he didn't have to finish the thought, the conveniently placed pause before busy giving him enough hint—more than he would've liked, but it was their house and it was his fault he'd invited himself inside... and for having ears. "weird, i swear i texted you," claimed casually, fished out his phone from his pocket as if it still mattered whether or not he did when he'd already made himself comfortable on the couch, scrolled through his most recent messages only to find that no such text was sent. "huh. must've forgot to hit 'send'. anyway." he propped his laptop up on a throw pillow on his lap, giving merrick a proper view of the screen. "read this. do you think this makes sense?"
