j.

viens full of ice fire extinguished johnathan humphrey "jack" devilliers

[venusbirths-deactivated20170311]

“Who couldn’t do with a good fuck around here?”

[daedalxs-blog]

“Plenty of people, most of them because they let it inflate their heads. But otherwise...”

[daisygotagun-blog]

“I think I’ve got a frog in my throat.”

[daedalxs-blog]

“I can’t imagine that tastes very good.”

[daedalxs-blog]

ofcxnceit:

Location: The Harvey Johnson Foundation’s 14th Annual Charity Gala >>>

Kane liked parties well enough - music, drinking - and he liked the aftermath even better. He always made it out with a pocket full of watches, wallets and rings pawned off those robbed first of their wits by the preceding thief of alcohol.

The schmoozing was just practice, really. He was used to lying directly to people’s faces, he did it almost more than he told them the truth.

But, like anything else, the way to lower suspicions is simply to play the field, be present. Not that he thought this particular group was distant enough from him to let him get away with anything while they were fresh and sober and responding, but it was worth the shot.

“It’s kind of pitiful, all this standing around.” Kane muses as he leans against the wall.

“Let’s liven things up - dance with me.”

Even if this wasn’t, well, what it was, Jack would more than likely be uncomfortable.

To call him a social butterfly were be monstrously fallacious -- he’d always felt uncomfortable at parties and galas, standing tall and stiff, unable to rid himself of the sour expression that crossed his features at the thought of forcing himself through the uptight social rituals. Or that was at least how it had been nineteen years ago. He still stood tall and stiff, this time in a crap suit and less uncomfortable about the idea of socializing and more so about who it would be with. 

Why again had he chosen to come? That was the question they’d be asking for centuries. Why had he stayed? That was the better question however. And not one he really wanted to answer right now; he’d do it when he got home, laying on his bed with the springs of his mattress digging into his back.

He glanced over when he heard the voice of the other man, blinking with surprise. Jack pursed his lips, raising an eyebrow at the stranger.

“Two left feet here; you’d best find someone else.”

[felixfletcher-blog]

The persistent, ‘Sir?’ that had been tailing him through the crowd went cheerfully ignored, an empty cocktail glass pushed none-too-subtly into the chest of a passing by penguin-suit as Felix made a beeline for the ice sculpture towering over the party. The wide-blown state of his pupils and beaming smile were a fair indication that his last venture to the bathroom had been a social one and a greater one that there was trouble brewing. The problem with being social was that his form of socialisation usually came attached to a long list of damages billed to anyone who wasn’t him.  “I prefer to be called Captain,” Felix insisted, batting away a hand from his shoulder with a stern look that turned almost reverent as he crowded in beneath the gleaming ice. 

Hoisting himself up to sit upon the dais upon which it stood (to a nervous groan from his shadow and the dais in unison) Felix patted a hand against an icy shoe and lent back to peer up at the crotch with the distracted energy of a five year old at a birthday party before declaring, “It looks nothing like him.”

[daedalxs-blog]

Jack had wanted to turn and walk right out the door he’d entered in when he saw the ice statue. Not that he hadn’t been wanting to turn and flee every step before he laid eyes on it, but he’d felt the urge ten times more strong when he had. It was so... gaudy. He was well aware that the man who’s name was on the invitation was dead -- Harvey Johnson had been dead for months now, the news had shook New York -- but did they need to be so obvious about it? It just made everything tacky.

He’d tried to keep his distance from the sculpture but as he was also trying to keep his distance from a great number of people, eventually he had to decide the priority. He decided the latter was more important to stay away from and not the former and that was how he’d ended up standing so near it, doing his best to keep his eyes off and managing to look as uncomfortable as he felt. Which was a lot. He startled when he heard the person speak, and cringed when he turned around to see where he was. Wonderful. Jack did his best to pull on a neutral, almost bored, expression though -- the one that so many wore here. “No, it really doesn’t.”

[persephonesings-archive-blog]

The first year Harvey hosted the gala for his foundation, Yasmin was only eight. That did not stop her from begging Juliana if she could also dress up and attend the party, which she imagined to be a lot like a royal ball from a fairy tale. And every year since, Yasmin looked forward to the event, even when she wasn’t allowed to attend them. It was a magical evening, and it stood for something wonderful. Harvey’s charity meant so much to him, and Yasmin loved being able to celebrate the Foundation with the rest of her family.This year, her family was significantly smaller. It was the first Gala without Harvey, and everyone was aware of it.

From the moment she’d stepped foot inside Olympus, Yasmin knew that it’d turn out to be a long night. It seemed so wrong to be at a party so soon after Dante’s death, which she’d still hadn’t fully recovered from. A large part of her had desired to stay home and continue grieving, but it felt almost blasphemous to not attend the charity gala. It would have been besmirching on the incredible legacy Harvey left behind, and it would have been selfish to not support the Foundation.

That didn’t mean she was enjoying herself. As hard as she tried not to wallow in grief, it was difficult to shake off Dante’s absence. No distraction was great enough to make her forget him, no drink strong enough to numb the pain. The most she could do was pretend, and act like the world wasn’t slowly crumbling all around her. “The music is lovely,” she said aloud, to anyone who was near. Without bothering to look at who was beside her, Yasmin asked, “Would you like to dance with me? I promise I won’t step on your toes.”

[daedalxs-blog]

The Harvey Johnson Charity Gala had first been held after he left Olympus -- do the math, and it would tell you he’d been gone five years before the first invitations had been sent out. He’d been working the cash register at a poorly lit and poorly cleaned grocery store in Staten, earning minimum wage and pain in his knees. He hadn’t heard about it until the fourth one; he’d left Staten by that point, moved to Brooklyn and opened up his little repair shop. The first IPhone hadn’t even been released by that point; he was fixing HP laptops and blackberries, hunkered down at his counter with the radio blaring beside him. He’d heard the name -- Harvey Johnson -- and instantly started listening the broadcast he’d only turned on to fill the silence. A nostalgic smile had curled the corners of his lips ever so slightly as the radio-host finished his report; he’d remembered Harvey talking about the idea of a charity gala, debating it. Evidently it had come to fruition in his absence.

That was the most he’d thought about it in years. He was just poor man who barely kept his head above water, the owner and only employee of an electronics repair shop. Celebrities walked the carpet of the charity gala -- not tired out men, aging too fast to be good. Ten years would pass before it would cross his mind again, and that would be when a little black envelope appeared in his mailbox, addressed to a Mr. Johnathan DeVilliers, inviting him to attend. 

His first urge had been to tear it to shreds and through it in the garbage -- Jack had been sorely tempted to do so -- but he hesitated. The white letters that read ‘Harvey Johnson’ jumped out and grabbed onto him, the image of an old friend flashing through his mind. Even though someone with greedy intentions had had it sent (Zeus, he suspected), he’d eventually decided to go. Even bought a (crappy) suit to go in.

To say Jack felt out of place among the splendor would be to understate it; he didn’t belong here, not with this pomp and circumstance, not in these ill-fitting clothing and sipping this champagne that most likely cost more than the rent for his shop and apartment combined. Why again had he decided to go? Somewhere in the lights and chatter, he’d forgotten the reason and with it had run any desire to stay. 

He was wondering just how to go about leaving when the young woman beside him spoke. His eyes widened and he looked at her in surprise. “With me? I assure you there are better partners out there; I haven’t danced in years.”

[venusbirths-deactivated20170311]

“Who do I have to sleep with to get a vodka martini around here?”

[daedalxs-blog]

“No one, as long as you don’t say things like that. You give them ideas otherwise.”

[jineralhospital]

“The usual, yeah.” Though when the older man’s interest seemed piqued at the mention of his daughter, Jin couldn’t help but smile. Any chance to brag on Lauren was a good chance. “I have a daughter. You’re not going to believe me, but she’s a senior in high school, seventeen. I know, I don’t look old enough to have an almost eighteen year old.” That was because arguably he wasn’t. “I was sixteen so she’s already got me beat for least troublesome as a teenager.”

[daedalxs-blog]

Was it sad that he enjoyed listening to the man speak about his daughter? That he enjoyed the happiness and pride that sparked in the man’s dark eyes? It was sad, probably, but that was what he was. He chuckled at the man’s last sentence. “Does she bring that up when she gets in trouble?” he asked. “You should be proud though; you’ve gotten her this far even when you started so early.”

[chewingeum-blog]

“I thought about buying my niece in Idaho Beyonce tickets, but then I thought, ‘Wait a minute! She’s nine.’ Kid isn’t seeing Beyonce until I see Beyonce. Oh, no thank you to the drinks, I’m happy to join you with a pop, though. I’m eight years sober.”

[daedalxs-blog]

Jack looked at the person who’d struck up a conversation with him, blinking and barely containing his confusion as he listened. He could help the eyebrow that crept up his brow when he refused the bartender asking him if he wanted a drink -- he wasn’t drunk already? “So what did you end up getting her?” he asked after a moment. “And congratulations, I suppose?”

[jineralhospital]

“Yes,” he admitted before he could reign his tongue in. “I mean no? It’s -” this mob war between the two Olympuses, the constant threat of his father, the hospital, casual homicide on the side, Lauren, the impending empty nest syndrome “ - just personal stuff. Work. My kid.”

[daedalxs-blog]

“The usual stuff?” he asked, tilting his head. He rose his glass again and took a sip before setting it down, his fingers thrumming on the glass. “You have a kid?” The moment the other man mentioned his child, the image of Jude flashed in front of Jack. How pathetic was he that, nineteen years later, such a simple thing could bring it all back. “How old?”

[unholyhermes-blog]

The phone itself had been strategically mangled by himself, so he was at least half-confident that it wouldn’t work. The other half of him was certain that it would and that he’d have exposed a notorious ex-killer to a plethora of questionable pornography featuring himself, a toilet plunger and banana cream pie. (Admittedly, he’s exposed himself to worse.)

Adam delighted anyway when Jack agreed to take on his project and immediately scuttled behind the counter like an overeager toddler and seated himself right onto the man’s stool. He sat hunched as if slouching might disguise his ridiculous stature when his legs stretched a mile long into the shelves of knick knacks under the counter. 

“Kind of a shoddy shop, yeah,” he hedged, nudging an old brick Nokia back into where it had fallen. “It’s hard to imagine anybody thinking to themselves that they wanted to grow up and do this for a living.”

[daedalxs-blog]

Jack had turned his attention to the phone but he was still aware of his surroundings -- he could never not be aware of everything around him. It was an instinct ingrained into him for as long as he could remember, one that had been hammered on over and over again. As such, he quite aware when the boy came around the counter, making himself comfortable like he’d been invited.

Which he had not.

Still, the way he made himself at home, stretching out, relaxing, looking through things around his work-space wasn’t unsurprising. Not when he remembered the disorganized mess the boy had dropped onto his counter (which were still there) and his nonchalant posture. Still, he took with stride -- pursed his lips and began to work on the phone as the boy went through things.

Jack had to resist the growl that bubbled in his throat when the boy insulted his shop; sure, it wasn’t much, but it was home and Jack quite liked it. It was his shop. It was how he liked it -- cluttered but homey. Still, it wasn’t like he hadn’t heard it before. Quite a few of the reviews for his shop on Google commented about that. It was what came next out of his mouth that set off alarm bells in his head. He was probably being a paranoid old man but he still slowly raised his head to look at the boy with one raised eyebrow. Anything and anyone were possible when it came to Olympus. He said nothing, gave away nothing.

“No, it wasn’t what I dreamed of growing up; the dreams of a kid aren’t very rational though -- I had to be an adult, you know?”

[jineralhospital]

“When am I not tense?” He muttered under his breath following a thoughtful hum. “Stressed, a lot is going on.”

[daedalxs-blog]

Jack shrugged, sipping the whiskey he’d order, raising an eyebrow as the muttered half-to himself. “Can’t say I’d know, stranger. Want to talk about it though?”

[jineralhospital]

“Yah, if it’s not a medical emergency then it doesn’t constitute as an emergency,” Jin sighed, sipping at his (for once) coke sans the whiskey. “And I’m off the clock, Dr. Baek isn’t here right now.”

[daedalxs-blog]

Jack frowned at the man who’d addressed him, furrowing his brow with confusion. “I wasn’t even aware you were a doctor,” he replied, shifting in the seat next to the man, resting his elbows on that bar. “A bit tense, are you?”

[unholyhermes-blog]

In the light of recent events, Adam started making it a habit to venture into places he never had the inclinations to before. The weapons shop, the hospital (while sober) and into the dens of ex-hitmen with legendary mythos that nobody who wasn’t already fossilized could confirm. Granted, he already had a knack for knocking on Satan’s door but Daedalus’ reputation was a little less murderous than Hades’ if only because he had retired. He was like a disabled land mine or an out of commission Elderado. Cars only killed when they were working and on the road. 

It’d been a while since Adam had to fix his own cars, but he figured it was about time.

Tugging on the straps of his canary yellow backpack, Adam didn’t look much older than a high school senior with his gaudy sneakers and terrible posture as he approached the counter. He looked more hungover than sheepish as he waved half-heartedly before shucking off his bag onto one shoulder. 

“Actually, yeah. Someone must’ve been trying to get into my phone,” he said as he began unloading various items from his backpack: a bottle of curiously clear Gatorade, a can of body spray, a half-pack of gum, some socks, some gal’s dirty knickers and, finally, a phone.. “They’ve wiped all of my memory and I was wondering if I could get it back.”

[daedalxs-blog]

Sizing someone up was a habit that Jack had never been able to put to rest. Then again, it wasn’t one he’d been actively seeking to put to rest -- it had it’s uses in the boring, normal life he had lived for nineteen years and it definitely had it’s uses now that he’d been found. He looked over everyone who stepped into his shop and made his judgments; that held true for this boy just as it had for any other. 

Not that anything about him struck Jack as off. Perhaps a bit disgusting, especially at the pair of girl’s underwear that found it’s way onto his counter (he cocked an eyebrow at that, grimacing and staring at them a bit like he’d stare at a train-wreck) but probably just a fratboy with an ex seeking revenge -- he’d seen that before. 

Jack took the phone and turned it on; the screen lit up and his thumb swiped across the screen. Once more he wondered why people went to him and not to Apple but he didn’t complain. Cash was cash. 

“I should be able to get it back,” he responded, giving the boy a small, placating smile. As long as it was just that, it should be easy enough. Shouldn’t even take him longer than an hour; you could probably find how-to guides on the internet. That was how he’d learned, after all. “It shouldn’t be too long -- you can wait here if you’d like or you can go. I’d give it about an hour.”

[caidenwilcox-deactivated2018100]

“I’ll buy you all the suits you want, if that’s all I need to do to convince you.” Caiden laughed once again, almost tempted to clap the older man on the shoulder but even he knew that would be pushing it too far. After all, they weren’t friends. Not yet, anyway. But in all of his years in the business, Caiden found that most people were easily won over with a promise of a secure future and a hefty sum of money. 

Now, Jack was a different case and he knew that; but the other man seemed reasonable enough. Nobody could bring his little boy back to life. Not even the most powerful man on earth. 

“You can’t really think that you’re just a washed up old man. You know why we’ve been looking for you, Jack. I used to wonder who you were when I was much younger.” He shook his head, like he still couldn’t believe that the great Daedalus was standing in front of him, though not under the most favourable circumstances as he would have liked. 

“Harvey used to talk about you all the time. Said there was no one like you in the entire universe. He used to tell me how you’d work, the look on your face. We all thought he was in love with you,” Caiden huffed, accommodating smile still plastered onto his face. “I won’t beat around the bush. Whatever you want, you can name it. I promise you I’ll make it happen.” 

[daedalxs-blog]

Jack snorted as he spoke, narrowed his eyes at the dark-haired man laughed. “If I wanted a suit, I’m sure I’d have found a way to afford it,” he replied harshly. It wasn’t like Jack wouldn’t have had his ways; he was a talented man -- he could’ve moved to London or Paris or somewhere and started up all over. If he wanted money and material things, he would’ve found a way to get those things. There was one thing he wanted and no one could make that a reality. Grief had changed him but it hadn’t made him stupid.

“Oh but I am. I’m beginning to go bald, I’ve got wrinkles and a mustache, I repair IPhones for a living, and I haven’t touched a gun in nineteen years. I’m an old man who lives a sorry excuse for a life and quite content to keep it that way.” Nineteen years was a long time. He’d changed; he was no longer the person that Caiden had wondered about when he was a boy. “Daedalus is dead.”

“He was a good friend,” Jack said shortly. Harvey had been his closest friend and, even as the leader of Olympus, one of the kindest people towards him. When he’d read in the news that he was dead, he had thought for a moment that he felt his heart crack. An impossibility -- his heart had been a thousand tiny shards on the ground for almost two decades.

“You know what I want? I want to be left alone. I want to continue on living as I have. I’m not interested in returning to Olympus and there is nothing you can offer me that will change that.” Daedalus was dead. “But I have a feeling that is the one thing you won’t be offering.”

[essosimuses-deactivated20170102]

Technology and Norah did not mix well, there really was no two ways around the issue. She had the same old laptop for the past five years and the same Iphone which she stubbornly refused to trade for a newer version but today in a cruel twist of fate the device had almost been stolen along with her purse and it was now in pretty poor shape. Since there was no way in hell the brunette would willingly set foot in an Apple store she instead headed to Jack Devilliers’s shop. 

As she made her way towards the older man’s shop she felt a little nervous, she had heard of him before. In fact she was hearing a lot about him these days, he was a possible asset for Old Olympus and very much sought after and the fact that he had been a hitman and particularly skilled one at that was endlessly fascinating to her. For once she might actually genuinely like someone out of this crowd but as she wasn’t officially on Caiden’s little list of misfits and miscreants she knew she would have to somehow hide her glee. Instead she popped into the shop and as Jack greeted her, she simply directed her bright smile around the shop. Really thee was no reason to be smiling upon meeting a shop owner and yet all she could think of were questions about his time as a hitman, increasingly more inelegant queries filled her brain, chief of them all being how had it felt to kill someone the first time. She stepped towards the counter after a couple of seconds and once composed she simply deposited her cellphone on the counter. “This heap of trash needs your help.” She quipped.

[daedalxs-blog]

The dark-haired girl who entered the sharp was smiling brightly at him as she approached, depositing a rather beat-up looking cellphone on his counter. Sometimes it amazed him what people managed to do to their phones but he always kept that to himself. If they stopped then he’d be out of a job, wouldn’t he?

“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” Jack replied, giving her a small, polite smile. He didn’t have the same enthusiastic energy she seemed to carry with her but he at least had enough to return her smile, if dimly. He plucked the phone of the counter and held it up so that he could examine it, his blue eyes taking in every crack and flaw that it had picked up. It was salvageable -- anything was for the right price, after all. Whether it would be cheaper to get a new phone or not, it wasn’t his place to say. “Can you tell me what happened to it?”

[matchmaker-eros-deactivated2017]

Russell knew the tone in the man’s voice. He may have said he was fine, but something about him suggested otherwise. There was a sadness in his eyes that Russell had seen all too often on the bar. A look of loss. Still, while it ached Russell to just let it go and pretend it wouldn’t bother him, he knew the older man would open up to him if and when he wanted to. There was no point in getting the man to talk over his own selfish curiosity.

“Another whiskey coming up,” he said, wiping the counter and placing a clean napkin before the man. He poured a glass of the whiskey he had been pouring for the same patron and placed the glass on the napkin, taking back his empty one. “So you come around here often, sir? I’m usually good about remembering frequent fliers, but I can’t say I recall seeing you around too much.”

[daedalxs-blog]

“Thank you,” he responded, softly nodding. He picked up the drink when it was placed in front of him and took a small sip before taking another, larger sip. There was burn to the alcohol -- a fire that was, in a way, refreshing. Was it pathetic that he had to turn to alcohol to find a fire when so many others were driven by one they kindled without the help of intoxicants?

“I come and go,” he replied vaguely, waving his hand. He hadn’t been here in years actually -- the one downside to laying underneath Olympus’ radar had been that many of the places he’d come to enjoy were off-limits. The Warehouse was just another of those places. His cover was blown though, his days of hiding in peace over. Fuck it if he was going to stay away now.

[procidcns-deactivated20160915]

@daedalxs

Malakei had never owned a smartphone until he got to New York. For one, smartphones were easy to track and that wasn’t an idea that appealed to him; also, they were expensive and their battery life sucked, it wasn’t ideal when you were constantly on the move. Now that he had one, he couldn’t put it down. Who knew how funny Snapchat filters were? Who knew Pokémon Go could be so addictive?

However, smartphones were also extremely breakable and Malakei found that out the hard way. 

“Heard you’re the man to see about broken phones?”

Malakei dropped his onto the counter top and shrugged guiltily. The screen was a mess, less than a centimetre between each crack in the glass and pieces had already started to fall out at the corner. The back was cracked too. It was a miracle that the damn thing still switched on. “Salvageable?” 

[daedalxs-blog]

When the bell rung signifying an entrance into the shop, Jack looked up. It wasn’t the first customer today but it was the only one at that current moment -- never let it be said that this job made him rich. He made enough to scrape by and that was it. It was also just enough for him; he didn’t need a Ferrari or a mansion -- his beat up Subaru and two-bedroom apartment was just fine with him. Even if he had more customers, more money, he wasn’t sure he’d do anything with it. The stasis of this life was what he liked.

“That’s what my website says,” he said with a small snort as the other person dropped the phone onto his desk. He took it in hand and looked it over -- spidery cracks covered the screen and the back but a quick peak behind the back said that was it -- before nodding. “Yeah. Shouldn’t even take too long if it’s just the casing that’s broken; one-fifty should do it.”