@gr0tesques - Tumblr Blog

Posts

⌜aaron taylor-johnson. 30. cis man. he/him.⌟ ╱ was that JULIAN KOENIG i just saw wandering around lake stillwater ? you know the RED HERRING? odd … i never imagined they’d be back in town, especially after everything that happened last time. but i guess it makes sense, considering they've always been known for being INTUITIVE and RESOURCEFUL. still, you'd think they'd be more cautious—especially since they’re also quite VOLATILE and NIHILISTIC, but then again that explains, he was a chess champion in high school. last i heard they were working as a/an UNEMPLOYED in PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA… i wonder if that's where they picked up that SMALL BOOK OF CROSSWORD PUZZLES they're always carrying around. nonetheless, with whatever happened on that lake all those years ago, they'd better hope the cabin keeps them safe this time around.

#sw.intro

remyxjameson

who: remy & @gr0tesques where: in the main room, by the fire when: 11th january, 2025 ; 10:27am

he had gone out following the blood trail, terrified at what he would find at the end of it and yet he hadn't been prepared for a lack of something. remy had thought there would be a person gravely injured, but there was nothing. the blood stopped, the phone retrieved. at least they could guess whose blood it was and yet when he returned back to the cabin he was told there was more than one person missing.

the relief when he saw julian and knew he wasn't among them was almost overwhelming, the guilt that followed equally so. he had wished it to be anyone aside from julian, and his sister, and he felt horrible for that. now though, all he could focus on was getting warm. he sat by the fire, changed out of wet clothes he'd gone out in, blanket around his shoulders but he was still shivering. remy shouldn't have stayed out as long as he did, it had been at least two hours, but he wanted to find answers.

"there was nothing. . . it all just, stopped." maybe the snow had covered the rest of it, but if not, what could cause the blood to just stop? even transporting the bodies, blood would still drip. they can't have disappeared without a trace. "what do you think it meant? the message on that phone? i. . . god, i've got a bad fucking feeling here, julian. like we should all leave even if it means hiking out of here and risking frostbite." he paused to look up at the other, chewing on his lower lip for a few moments. "please sit with me. we need to try and talk this over, gather the facts. you know everyone here better than i do." a beat, "i was worried. i thought maybe you or ellie and i--" he cut himself off, swallowing thickly as he looked down. "you both still mean a lot to me, despite the years."

gr0tesques

‎ julian hadn’t wanted to think about it, didn’t want to give the person who orchestrated this terrible, sick joke the attention they wanted. he hoped that if he ignored it, it would just solve itself, that the three missing girls would soon return from their trip to a neighboring town to get supplies and they could all just laugh about how they got stuck because of a fallen tree or something and how silly it was for anyone to think that this was anything like the movies they grew up watching.

he knew about the search party, and while he could’ve offered his help, made himself more useful, he’d deliberately stayed out of it, wanting to get as less involved as possible when he was sure that eleanore was safe. that was all that mattered to him. he hadn’t thought about any of the others in almost ten years.

he had no intentions of staying in the room when he was just walking past, but remy's voice had caught his attention

“we don’t need to do anything,” he snapped, voice crackling like the fire before them. he truthfully wasn’t feeling up for a conversation, but something about the way remy was bundled up in the blanket, his hair a damp mess and his thoughts coming out in frazzled streams from his pale lips made julian linger even just for a little while. he couldn't just walk away from him, though it did annoy him a little when he'd started entertaining the thought of him, and especially ellie, being in danger. "why don't you just leave, then?" he shifted his weight to his heels as he leaned against one of the wooden beams holding the ceiling up, as if to protest that he was not going to stay long to discuss this. "these people forgot you existed for ten years. you got nothing to lose, remy. you can walk out anytime."

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. remy jameson #/SORRY THIS IS SO LATE AHHHHH

cliffbooth-arc

ROBERT DE NIRO in THE DEER HUNTER (1978) dir. michael cimino

#insp. julian / the red herring

l4ckychrms

miki’s hands flailed slightly as she turned to julian, her breath coming out in quick, panicked puffs. “i don’t know! that’s kind of the problem!” she gestured wildly toward the streaks in the snow, like pointing at them harder would somehow make them disappear. “i heard a scream, and came outside, then, boom, dark red substance, very blood like. just … sitting there. existing. being all murder-y.” she clutched at the sleeves of her hoodie, like that would somehow ground her, but it didn’t help. if anything, her brain was spiraling faster. “and i’m not saying it is a crime scene, but like … what if it is? i mean, we're all alone out here, and now there’s blood? that’s, like, statistically suspicious, right?”

gr0tesques

‎ julian blinked at the red spots—a clear trail, though of which mammal, it was kind of hard to tell. it could’ve come from any warm-blooded creature and yet here miki was, already jumping to conclusions before she could gather enough facts to support her hypotheses. “okay, okay… slow down.” it was too early and he was running on so very little sleep that he could barely piece together what was happening. miki was getting way too ahead of herself. “are you sure it wasn’t an animal? like… a deer or- or a bird or something?” there was an urgency in his voice, not because of the blood—yet—but because of how freezing it was out here that his fingers felt like they were going to start disintegrating by the phalanges the longer he stayed out here without a cigarette burning in his hand. he would light one, but he’d just smoked the last one from his last pack, though he did still have an unopened one upstairs in his room. the nonchalant mention of murder, however, quickly distracted him from his nicotine craving. “...are you high?” he frowned, having to physically take a step back from what miki was trying to get at.

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. miki aikawa

espinozarosie

His sharp reply cut through the thunderous thoughts that came in like a rush of waves. Each one a bitter and cold memory that tugged her deeper beneath the fall of waves. The rest of the world was a dull murmur beneath the treachery of memory and longing. Maybe more feeling than Nora could pick up on, all of it mixing violently together. Her heart felt like waves rushing in and out, a threat of tsunami, a hurricane...a natural disaster. Was that what she was? Nora squeezed her eyes tightly, composure was typically an unnecessary requirement when it was just the two of them. This time it felt different. The two of them frayed ends of twin ribbon knotted in the middle.

Nora's eyes moved slowly to her brother, the aching in her chest compounded by the aching in her soul and maybe even deeper, maybe whatever it was that made people, people. That was what connected the two of them and she was reminded of it by the way his erratic and bruised appearance pierced through her like a blade of ice. Nora exhaled, eyes closing as she sunk back into the seat, her head sinking into the rest. She'd grow roots if she could, stay right here. Metaphorically she'd never left. Significant parts of herself stayed here the summer Jamie died. Still in the water like lotus making roots in river mud, or Ophelia, tragically doomed to a watery grave. She was here, even when she wasn't. Haunted by the ghost of loss and grief, regret and a hundred apologies she didn't thinks he could ever say.

Nora hadn't answered him, she didn't have anything good enough to say. Profound enough to make it better, to tether him to himself and keep Jules from drifting into the impossible ether or his own undoing. Her head shook right and left, a subtle and shaky 'no', an acknowledgement of her fear without saying it aloud. Nora's nostril's flared when he used the name only he did, Ellie. A two syllable life raft or maybe it was a reminder of her duty. Bound in blood from the womb, a split soul in two. She was her brothers keeper a job she would never turn away from, one she'd sink into. Like lotus roots in river mud, she needed the connection to survive.

Without lifting her head she turned, pressing her chin to her shoulder as she faced her brother, "I'm okay," she insisted, her attention shifting to the bruising with a frown, "I packed a first aid kit, but maybe we shy away from getting any more injuries this weekend," she gestured to his face as she spoke, a hollow smile held back an exhale. "Have you thought of coming back here at all over the years?" she asked when she could no longer hold her breath, finally uncurling her fingers from the grip on the stirring wheel and turning the ignition off- removing the temptation to drive head first into the front of the damned cabin.

gr0tesques

‎ growing up grounded on all things logical and factual from data-backed evidence, julian believed in only one stupid, childish thing to be true, and that was that he and his sister could read each other’s minds. and yes, he knew that physically that had to be impossible; it was a stereotype that existed only in fictional depictions of what twins were supposed to be based on the idea of twin telepathy, of which julian was wholly convinced he shared with eleanore despite knowing that parapsychology was nothing but hokum. but it was his and ellie’s secret, something that can only ever be theirs.

he still believed it, to this day. there were no secrets kept between them, and if there were any attempts to hide things from each other, he knew it would only be futile, energy better spent telling each other everything. it was always easier that way, anyway, than having to coax the truth from each other with only the power of their minds. and a bit of brute force from time to time.

so ellie didn’t have to say anything; julian knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling regardless of the words she put out there. i’m okay didn’t necessarily mean she was okay. julian could just tell. but that didn’t mean they didn’t need the occasional lie to make themselves—and each other—feel better.

suddenly self-conscious about his fucked-up face, he turned his head away from her slightly when she’d brought attention to his cuts. he didn’t care if the others gawked at him; he only cared about what she thought. that’s a slippery slope, he wanted to argue on the idea that he would get into another fight just because he’d just come out of one. a rare one at that. what happened was an isolated incident. “yeah, but you never know when you’re gonna get attacked by a bear or some shit,” he mumbled, trying to be dense on purpose, tucking his chin into his chest as he pretended to survey the lints on his wool jacket, disparaging her concern for him. at least that prodded a smile from her, empty as it may be.

with the ignition killed, the thrumming of the engine was finally replaced by a cold, contained silence, a vacuum-like void that made julian’s ears ring and his heart beat brutally inside his chest like they were suddenly standing at the foot of an unknowable darkness that stretched for miles and miles and miles with nothing but a single bloody memory to use as kindling for a fire.

then her question tore right into him.

a stupid question, because contrary to popular belief, there are stupid questions, and this was one of them.

“no,” he answered simply, head jerking back as he gave her a dirty look, dark brows pulled together over the ice in his eyes and his crystal glare. and, as if to say, but here i am, anyway, his hand reached for the door handle, pushing the door open with conviction, that despite his apprehensions, he was here for harper and harper only. and he would see this weekend through whatever it takes.

but it hasn’t even been 24 hours and already, there was blood.

julian stayed behind when a search party went out to look for those unaccounted for. he tried to convince himself that it was some kind of practical joke, like the stuff from fraternities and sororities when they were trying to make the freshmen shit their pants. was it a coincidence that their two dead friends were members of both?

the other possibility was that it was some kind of injured animal. they were in the middle of the fucking woods, after all, and a wounded deer galumphing through the snow after getting maimed by a bear was probably not implausible. that probably had a higher chance of being true than three of their friends randomly getting attacked by an unknown assailant like in one of his mother's horror movies from the 80s and 90s. everyone was probably just overreacting.

still, julian couldn't shake the feeling of imminent danger and despite his beliefs (or what he wanted to construe as his beliefs), he needed to know that eleanore was safe.

retiring to his and ellie's shared room a few hours after the trail of blood was found, when juno's phone was recovered along with the cryptic message, he was relieved to find his sister safe in their quarters, relatively unharmed except from recurring shock of what had transpired this morning. julian stood by the door as it closed, locking it behind him before slowly leaning his body fully against it, hands pinned behind his back. he kept his eyes on ellie, adamantly fixed on her figure like he's trying to read her mind but couldn't, for some reason, clouded by fear and anxiety that was getting increasingly difficult to parse through.

"it's just a joke," he offered, flimsily, the gesture temporarily meant to assuage her apprehension. "it was probably connor."

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. nora koenig #/long bc of the time jump u dont have to match length fhdskfhs

sirengazed

camille listened quietly, her fingers absently twisting one of her rings as he spoke. she couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to be around kids. not everyone was made for it, and she could see how a job like that could wear someone down. but, for her, there was something deeply satisfying about it, the way she could help guide. she’d always liked teaching, always liked helping. sure, it was exhausting at times, but that was the part she’d signed up for. she wasn’t sure if julian or anyone else would ever understand that.

when julian mentioned his work, camille’s attention shifted. she could see the way he rubbed his neck, the subtle unease in his body language. she could also sense the dismissal in his voice, like he didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to admit it mattered. she wondered if anything actually did matter to him, but she doesn't say that out loud. sure she didn’t really know what he did, but she wasn’t the type to brush things off as unimportant, even if she didn’t fully understand them. “i don’t see what’s so boring about it,” she said, her tone firmer this time. “i mean, i’m not an expert or anything, but it still seems very important.” she paused, taking a deep breath, feeling a shift in the conversation. “so… i take it you’re just going to dive back into that once we do what we came here to do? settle back into your routine...” she wasn’t sure what she even fully meant by that, or what it all looked like in the bigger picture. would things ever go back to the way they were before? was there even such a thing as normal anymore? everything seemed so little to her nowadays but she was still holding on because it's what she needed to do.

gr0tesques

‎ “i never said it wasn’t important,” he corrected her, quietly annoyed that that was what she’d picked up on what he said. “just that it’s boring for most people. but sure,” he half-heartedly conceded, not really in the mood to argue about the importance of his job with somebody he’d never openly spoken to about it before. she was probably just trying to be polite, or maybe it was something she had to teach her kids in the classroom, that every job was important to form a functional society, that there was no such thing as a small role. he wondered if she also taught them about how not everybody was meant to make significant contributions to the world and that most people die without amounting to much except for the sum total of resources wasted that could’ve been put to better use on people who actually matter. that was probably more important than expecting children to aspire for goals like becoming a cop or finding a cure for incurable diseases or using the term ‘world peace’ like it’s a verb. the kids who are well capable of achieving those goals always die too young, too soon, leaving the world to the hands of those who would later grow up to be mediocre adults. julian had seen it happen—twice. and camille has probably gown to become a decent teacher at best, but it’s likely that she’s not gonna change the world because of it. which was fine. she can have her routines, the same way he had his routines. “life goes on,” he mumbles, eyeing the patterns of the wood furnishings overhead.

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. camille lawson #/we can wrap this up if that's okay <33 #there was no point to this.....julian just wanted to be a debby downer in his head

dusktildcwn

any part of willa that was reaching towards him to inspect his injuries had paused the moment he retorted, his tone slightly mocking. willa then remembered how every interact she had in the past with julian seemed to change with the wind. were he and harper on good terms? bad? was she upset with something he did or were they in a fight? often whatever the outcome, willa sided with harper. which meant there had been plenty of times where she had heard the bite in julian's words directed at her.

it reminded her that maybe she shouldn't try to help every person she came in contact with.

"you fell down the escalator...?" she asked it in a way that showed her disbelief in his statement, but if he wanted to double down, she'd let him. it was his decision if he wanted to say what really happened to him, but she doubted it was a fall. that was the oldest excuse in the book.

at the mention of his sister, willa's posture became even more nervous. "no, i haven't seen her." she was nervous for when she did, considering how they last left each other wasn't exactly on good terms. no thanks to willa. "if i do see her though, i'll let her know you were looking for her."

unable to focus on anything but the cuts and bruises in front of her, willa's instinctive nature took over as she asked. "do you want me to look you over?" realizing the offer might sound weird to someone who didn't know her current profession, willa continued, "i'm a nurse... i can make sure the escalator didn't rough you up too badly."

gr0tesques

‎ julian wasn’t going for convincing when he’d come up with that escalator story, but he also had no intentions of hiding the truth. he supposed his face was just something for people to look at without need for further fuss nor foofaraw, despite the concern willa was showing towards him. he wondered if she did this with every wounded thing she came across, even if it meant putting herself in danger. if he’d been a stranger—which he considered himself to be, technically, notwithstanding their mutual connection to both harper and jamie—and if she’d found herself in a similar room alone with him, would she still have offered her help? stupid girl.

her best intentions aside, julian regarded her with a scoff, as if he needed any looking over, he began to step back from the door. “no, thanks. just tell ellie i’m lookin’ for her if you see her, yeah?” and with one final glance at willa, finally walked past the room.

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. willa hoffman

remyxjameson

remy leans forward on his knees, shuffling a little closer as he sat back down. closer on a bed this small was often too much, but it was an inch or two; for ease of passing things between one another, he'd argue. a few moments later and he was taking a hit from the blunt himself, leaning against the wall as he watched julian. what a loaded question, and he was so well known for bringing the vibe down; he didn't really want to do that now. "they were just. . . the type of parents that never should have had a kid, never should have been parents. got worse when they figured out my interest in women is literally zero." remy admitted, soon distracted by butterflies slamming into the walls of his stomach at even the slightest accidental touch from the other. "i don't wanna bring the vibe down, so, yeah. that's the short version." he supposed he should be thankful that julian didn't seem the type to google someone; inputting remulus jameson into google still brought up the video and the pictures last he checked. him shirtless, straddling and completely intertwined with the guy he thought liked him. they had been kissing, it had been getting hotter. . . he had been turned on. and then out came the person hidden in the closet with the camera. ironic, considering how deep he'd been in the closet back then. he chuckled at the comments about his mom, "well a handsome guy who can cook? who wouldn't be. eye candy, plus food as a way to the heart. french too, by the sounds of it."

gr0tesques

‎ julian could already imagine what kind of people remy's parents were just from a brief description. “you can say your parents are assholes, remy. they can’t hear you.” he huffs, reaching out and wiggling his fingers for the blunt back. he knows that julian’s case isn’t isolated, that there are plenty of kids who’ve been ostracized by their own parents for not being the kind of children they would’ve wanted to have, if they even wanted any. and he knows he’s lucky, all things considered, that the worst thing that nina roth has ever done was to leave her family behind. “is that why you’re sad all the time?” perhaps a little too candid a question, letting remy know that yeah, he notices, but maybe not enough to do anything about it, going only as far as a simple observation.

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. remy jameson #flashback

l4ckychrms

𝐰𝐡𝐨 : miki + anyone 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 : back porch 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 : janurary 11, 2025 at 7:35 am 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 : 0/3 [ open ]

miki had never been a deep sleeper, but last night had been different. maybe it was the exhaustion from the trip, or maybe it was the morbid memories associated with the all too familiar setting, but when the scream ripped through the cabin that morning, she knew something bad had happened. she wasn’t sure who screamed first. maybe it was roberta’s roommate when they realized her bed was still made. maybe it was someone else, seeing their front door wide open. either way, the sound had jolted her awake, and now she stood outside, breath puffing white in the frigid air, her bare feet slowly numbing against the snow covered porch. “um … is that blood?” she whispered silently. something was wrong. more wrong than the usual, someone partied too hard and wandered off, kind of thing. she swallowed hard. turning to whoever was closest, eyes wide. “because … that looks like blood ...” her stomach slowly churned, as realized what she had said out loud. “oh my god — blood? why would there be blood? should we be touching anything? what if this is, like … a crime scene or something? oh my god! i can't go to jail.”

gr0tesques

‎ the smell of cigarette clung to the collar of his jacket as he climbed the steps, eyes tracing the crimson streaks marring the pristine white snow. his mind, though having already been awake for a few hours, did not immediately recognize what they could be until the word ‘blood’ left miki’s lips.

“whose blood?” julian narrowed his eyes up at miki once he finally reached the top of the steps, joining her on the back porch. “what happened?”

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. miki aikawa

remyxjameson

lies. he knew it, had studied julian more in college than he had done his course material, knew when he was lying but remy also knew now wasn't the time to push. perhaps another time. "if you're never not alright, whilst we're here or. . . or after, i'm always just a phone call away, jules. or a text if that's too much pressure. you know me well enough to know i'm judgement free." remy offered, hoping to somehow shoehorn his way back into the others life. could he really cope if this was the last time he saw julian, at least until the next time one of them dies?

"sorry. i just thought i was coming out here for a minute or two, not this long." julian slipped his jacket off, and remy wrapped it around himself. it was big on him, almost comically big, but it was warm and it smelled like him. remy did his best to commit that scent to memory, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he took a few final drags from his cigarette before stomping it out. "i might have to steal a few more of them from you, if you brought enough." remy murmured, "i'll pay you though. something tells me we can't doordash to here."

remy sighed a breath of relief as he admitted to buying but not reading, and yet his boyfriend had read them. which of course, remy only knew his boyfriends name from the online stalking he often found himself doing of julian. "maybe. . . maybe ask him about them, before you give them a read. you might find yourself uh, put off." was all he would admit, chewing on his lower lip as he glanced across at julian. "but you know what, perhaps form your own opinions." he wasn't sure that julian would even make the link, he had always been so oblivious to remy's pining. despite trying to hide it, he was sure harper had seen it and if she'd read the books, she was certainly smart enough to put two and two together. had she been the only one? "so, how's california? i thought about moving there, at one point. get my obvious sun deprived self some much needed vitamin d." perks of being an author, you could do that from pretty much anywhere.

gr0tesques

julian nodded solemnly, a silent acknowledgment at remy’s offer, even though he knew he wouldn’t take him up on it. the second he and ellie leave this place, he’ll forget about everyone here the same way that they’ll probably never cross his mind again. harper was gone; the last remaining thread holding their lives together had been snipped off. this weekend wasn’t just a goodbye for harper, but it was goodbye for everybody. goodbye, good riddance, yippee-ki-yay.

still, with what time they had left, julian appreciated seeing remy again and getting to talk to him, even briefly, even if they never speak again for the next few days. hell, he and ellie could leave once they get through the whole ceremony tomorrow, if there was even going to be one. he didn’t know how these things worked. were they meant to just dump harper’s remains into the water or do it gradually, by the fistful, pigeon-feeding style?

no, that was fucked up. that was a fucked up thing to think about his friend, his very good friend, his ex.

julian took in a deep breath, head tilting slightly up towards the cloudless sky, his leg continuing to bounce restlessly as remy kept rambling. “uh-huh…” he muttered absent-mindedly when remy mentioned something about cigarettes and doordash and… paying him for doordash? he’d learned, in the few years that he’d known remy back in school, to filter out some of the things he said. the guy had this habit of either saying too little or saying too much. which was strange, for the latter, because he was usually so quiet around everybody else. julian was given to understand that this was because remy was comfortable with him in some capacity, however, it has been eight years and julian was a different person then than he was now. their relationship should have been different, comfort levels reverting to their original state—that is to say, politely detached with a reasonable amount of awkwardness. right?

he glanced at remy again when he mentioned the possibility of being put off by his book, quirking a brow but thinking nothing more of it. he’d forgotten about that conversation he had with noah a few years ago, how he’d brought up the names of the characters, how closely they resembled julian’s and the author’s knowing that they did go to school together. he was curious to know what julian’s relationship with remy was. the implication was so ridiculous; he hadn’t thought about remy in literal years until harper had brought him and his book up. it didn’t occur to him now that that might’ve been what remy was referring to. again, he just didn’t think about those things.

“you? california?” that had grabbed julian’s attention well enough, earning a small, amused smile from him. there were enough authors and aspiring screenwriters in california, did it really need one more? still, julian was curious: “well, why didn’t you?”

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. remy jameson

remyxjameson

god, he would never regret telling julian his real full name, like he had done with others in the past. it felt sweet like honey coming from his lips, a stark contrast to the fun others would poke at him for in high school. remy had decided to go by remy since starting college, but in private he was more than happy for julian to call him his full name, or honestly anything else he wanted. the fact that the other mockingly deepened his voice whilst doing it? well, that just made remulus dizzy.

he sat at the invitation, cross legged and facing julian, watching as he lit the spliff. he hadn't smoked weed in high school, though he always wanted to. it was when he got to college that he started to dabble, and when he and julian had started doing it, well remy would smoke it every damn day if it meant he got to spend it with him. it helped just to calm the anxieties he felt in everyday life, he could walk through the halls without thinking that everyone was staring at him, whispering about him.

"i always had to kinda look after myself, it was learn to cook or go hungry." he admitted, even that small bit of information was him opening up more than he had done since starting college. he trusted the other though, despite everything within him telling him to never trust anyone again. "you do it so much, you learn to get good enough that not only do you not give others food poisoning, it also tastes pretty great. just call me your personal chef." remy chuckled, glancing to the other and the spliff. "you in a share one to start kinda mood, or is it a one each kinda day?" he asked, not wanting to light the one he had if it wasn't needed.

gr0tesques

‎ he’s so comfortable in his position that he doesn’t bother lifting himself up to pass the joint and the lighter to remy as an answer to his question, lazily extending his arm and wiggling his fingers. nothing is really kicking in yet, but his chest is starting to feel warm, so he knows it’ll only be a matter of minutes now. “why, where were your parents?” he pins a hand under his head, pressing onto the pillow. he lifts one knee while the other leg stretches across the sheets, his socked foot gently brushing against remy’s knee. not on purpose, but it’s only a twin-sized bed that could hardly fit a growing boy like himself to begin with. “my mom had a personal chef. jean-pierre. handsome fucker, that guy was. pretty sure my mom was in love with him.” it’s a joke, mostly, though he wouldn’t be surprised to find out it had been true. and anyway, throwing his mother under the bus, even for things she'd only allegedly done, when so much of her life had been on public record is an easy way to make people uncomfortable. and he loves to watch people squirm.

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. remy jameson #flashback

sirengazed

camille's gaze lingered on julian for a moment longer than she intended, trying to place him in a way that made sense. but the guy in front of her was a mystery. even back then. but now, after all these years, he seemed like an even bigger puzzle she couldn’t finish. she pauses at the words about harper, the slip-up, it all hit her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. it was a strange feeling to hear him say talked. the lump in her throat felt heavy, but she swallowed it down, trying to focus.

when he asked about her, camille couldn’t help but let out a breath, the question feeling loaded despite his casual tone. she hadn't expected to be asked about herself—didn’t really know how to answer when it came to the current situation they were in. “i’ve been in portland,” she said slowly, letting the words hang there. "after college, i decided to move there. i teach a class of third graders now. it's..." she paused, trying to find the right words. "it's a lot, but i love it." a small smile flickered across her face, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. she never thought she’d leave minnesota, but life had a funny way of pushing you in different directions. especially after all the loss she experienced. "i didn’t expect to leave, honestly." her voice softened, almost wistful.

her gaze moved back to him, the curiosity she hadn’t let go of creeping back in. "what about you?" she asked, her tone a bit lighter. "what have you been doing all these years?" it seemed like a simple enough question for someone she still couldn't fully grasp.

gr0tesques

‎ portland. that seemed like a safe enough place for someone who’d always played it safe. made sense why she didn’t expect to leave, but that still begged the question of why anyone would want to stay in this shithole in the first place. “third graders… imagine that.” he drew out a long, quiet breath. he couldn’t imagine having to take care of other people’s children, snotty-faced little kids with too-short attention spans for five to six hours a day. he only knew so few people who had the patience. harper was one of them. harper loved children. she’d always had that mother instinct within her, extending even towards her friends. she always knew she was going to be a mother and julian deigned to think of himself as any sort of parent. they were never meant to be college sweethearts. they were just never meant to last. “you trying to practice or what?” he hadn’t meant for the question to sound forward. he didn’t know if camille was a mother. frankly, he didn’t care. it was just something he’d blurted out that seemed somewhat relevant to the topic of kids.

he lifted a hand to place on the back of his neck, rubbing gently at his nape as she probed into his life, his whereabouts for the last eight years since leaving school. “i work with software,” was the simplest way he could really put it. he wasn’t sure if camille knew that he didn’t finish his degree. not having a degree in his line of work discouraged him from pursuing anything more than fleeting job orders in labs and firms around palo alto and surrounding cities, mostly through the help of good ol’ fashioned nepotism and referrals from friends of ellie's and noah’s. he was also his apartment building’s go-to guy for setting up routers and printers because he was supposed to know about that shit as someone working with computers, apparently. “boring stuff. you wouldn’t understand it.” he waved a dismissive hand at camille. most people in their circle, except for arlo, who was studying the same thing, rarely showed any interest in what he was majoring in unless they needed him to recover data from their hard drives or run an anti-virus program on their laptops that they could’ve easily done themselves if they took ten seconds to do a quick google search.

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. camille lawson

l4ckychrms

miki turned as julian handed her the bowl, her eyes lighting up with a bright, grateful smile. “thanks!” she said, hugging the bowl to her chest like it was a precious treasure. for a moment, she glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly. there was something familiar about him and the way he spoke, something tugging at the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t quite pin it down. “um…” she shifted the bowl in her hands, buying herself a second to think. “i hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.” she let out a small laugh, “i just figured … you know, something to boost morale. a little sugar therapy or whatever. i mean, i’m not the best cook, but i can bake. sometimes …” her gaze drifted to the kitchen counter, cluttered with remnants of snacks and travel boxes. the sight stirred a tangle of feelings in her chest. being back here, back at the cabin, was… surreal. everything looked the same, yet couldn't feel more different ... or maybe she was just imagining that. either way, it was weird, and miki wasn’t sure how to process it.

“i mean, it’s kind of a tradition, right?” she added quickly, her voice lilting into a higher pitch. “baking something while we’re here? i feel like harper would totally be yelling at me right now for using the wrong bowl or measuring flour the wrong way.” her smile faltered just a fraction, her chest tightening as she thought of harper, harper laughing, harper complaining, harper… not here.

gr0tesques

‎ he wasn't good at the whole... comforting thing, unless it was ellie. or harper, but there wasn't much left of her to comfort in that jar. he didn't know these other people well enough to know how and he feared any attempts would just come out awkward and uncomfortable for everybody involved. but he was here now. leaving would just be as awkward and uncomfortable for the next few days. “i don’t know… i wasn’t here that long.” the first time they came here, he’d arrived on the last day. he hadn’t even packed anything, really, having no intentions to stick around. he’d only meant to come and talk to jamie, hoped to patch things up with him. that plan didn’t work out as well as he’d hoped. “well, what did you guys bake?” he knew baking was one of harper’s favorite things to do, especially when she was stressed. he remembered how she used to bake at least four batches of cookies during exam week to ease her nerves. even years later, she’d always bring a box of pastries whenever she’d come visit him in california. and he might regret this, but— “do you… need any help?”

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. miki aikawa

wildestdrexms

arlo chuckled as the other spoke and he shrugged his shoulders, "probably. though i'm not surprised she'd want something like this." harper was the string that tied them all together - even now. he thought that it said a lot that so many people had showed up, only because she had asked them too. "she's probably up there, clapping her hands with joy because we're all here. should've been here too." arlo sighed. when he had heard about harper, he'd cried his heart out but then he'd done what he needed to do. he had tried to bury it as much as he could. he was trying to be present with the rest of them.

but as the conversation turned, it was easy for arlo to push down any feelings which might be bubbling. he laughed as the other complimented him and he shrugged his shoulders, "gotta at least try and stay in shape, you know?" he certainly wasn't the biggest person - definitely not compared to some of the others at the station - but he worked hard to make sure that he was able to keep up, at the very least.

"you're looking good though, jules." well, better than arlo might've thought that he would've, after everything that he knew had happened to the other though the years. "are you - are you good? outside of all of this."

gr0tesques

‎ whatever the circumstance, there was only ever going to be one reason why any of them would return to stillwater, and it was harper. she could’ve gotten married here and they would’ve all hopped on a plane bearing gifts and flowers. she could’ve decided to have her thirtieth birthday party by the lake and they would’ve all jumped in. unfortunate, though, that they’d all hauled their tucked tails here because she was dead. “that’s a paradox,” he mumbles at arlo’s lamentations. “if she were still alive, none of us would be here.” as if arlo needed any more reminding that their dear friend was gone. “nobody wants to come back here. nobody.” he didn’t know why he was starting to get pissed off, but he had to reign himself in—surely, arlo was just being sentimental and not at all dismissive of the tragedy that they all had to witness ten years ago.

“sorry.” he sighed, quickly lifting his gaze to meet arlo’s, his friend’s warm, forgiving eyes already providing a quiet reassurance. arlo had always been a calming presence, so level-headed against julian’s often disturbed, turbulent spirit. that much hasn’t changed the more he stood here with him. “cut the bullshit, would you?” he said, gently, at how arlo noted his appearance, lips playing along the fringes of a sad, but still somewhat coy smile. he never knew how to take compliments, especially ones that weren’t true. he didn’t look good and he knew it. “well, i’m alive. and harper isn’t, so. i guess that puts things into perspective?” he took a quick puff of his cigarette, the burnt tobacco forming new ashes at the tip, ashes that perhaps not-so distantly resembled the state of what was once harper chen. “i guess you’re kinda used to that, though, yeah? burn things. burnt… people.” the embers of his cigarette pulsed faintly as a soft breeze blew past, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees like the echoed whispers of ten years ago when it was jamie whom they’d lost. “you must’ve seen some nasty shit."

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. arlo clark

remyxjameson

if you were to ask the group who was least likely to change over the years, he imagined most would pick him. and they would be right, he hadn't really. still the same traumatised kid, just in an older body. untrusting, unnerving, barely getting by. remy should be used to it by now, but he just knew his insomnia was going to get worse here. having someone in his bed with him helped, or so he had realised on the very limited times that that had happened but he couldn't exactly ask anyone here to crawl into bed with him so that he could sleep at night. no, he expected he would be running on fumes and caffeine by tomorrow morning, after sleeping pretty shitty in the run up to coming here too.

"despite the obvious, how are you doing?" he cared about the answer, truly and deep down to his very core, but he imagined that all he would get back is the same shit everyone has been giving out; fine other than the obvious. hands came out to catch the cigarettes, pulling one from the pack with shaking hands. it took a few times to get the lighter lit, cold fingers trembling as he tried. finally the cigarette was lit, and he passed the pack back to julian. "thank you." remy murmured, taking his place back on the log, journal on the floor now as he wrapped his arms around his own small frame.

remulus. he'd always hated his full name, until he'd confided it to julian one night when they were high. hearing it come from the others lips, it felt like honey. it warmed his skin, the warmth pooling within him and making him melt. your next bestseller? head whipped around, eyes wide as he looked at the other "y-you've read my books?" he asked sheepishly, voice cracking in absolute fear and embarrassment. it didn't take much to put two and two together, not really, and if julian had read it he would know where the inspiration for julius came from. . . and god, all those romantic scenes, the spicy scenes between romulus and julius. remy just wanted the world to swallow him whole then and there. he almost forgot about the cigarette in hand, flicking the ash before bringing it to his lips. fuck, fuuuuuuck. he was panicking now.

gr0tesques

‎ julian huffed, something like a laugh and a cough all rolled into one strained effort from his chest, when remy asked how he was doing. despite the obvious. he could’ve scrambled for the most authentic answer in his head, all the shit he’d put his body through, how his mind was deteriorating each day because of it. how he’d never had any real, stable income. how his sister worried, how his father cried. how his mother rarely called and when she did, he never had anything interesting to say and he wished he was more interesting to her and he hated that he wasn’t. how his love life was in shambles, how he was never going to find anybody who was half as good to him as noah was and how his regrets could kill him, slowly, like a stake twisting through his insides everytime he breathed.

but that was too many words at once, words that might best be expressed in a simple white lie, “i’m doing alright,” because it wasn’t like remy could do anything about any of it and it wasn’t like he had any more space in his life for one more person to be disappointed in what he’d become. not that he thought remy held any hopes for him, but he’d always been so certain of his future, had led the campaign for his best consequence.

he hardly acknowledged remy when he returned the cigarettes, leaving them at his side. he bounced his leg, hunched forward and directed his gaze downward as the ash fell from his cigarette. he sniffled, the cold assaulting his extremities. glancing at remy beside him when asked if he’d read his work, he took notice of how he had his arms wrapped around himself. sighing, he internally admonished remy’s lack of foresight for the weather, stuck his cigarette between his lips as he shrugged off his jacket. “where the fuck’s your jacket, man? here.” he offered his own to the other man, leaving himself in just the faded white videodrome t-shirt. “and no… no i haven’t read ‘em. but harper and i bought the first one a few years back. never got around to reading ‘em. fantasy’s not really my thing. but noah liked it enough.” he took another drag of his cigarette, burning it close to the filter and he tossed the butt on the ground, putting out the light with the heel of his shoe. “i'll read it when we're done with... whatever this is.”

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. remy jameson

remyxjameson

FLASHBACK. when: during college, before jamie's death who: remy & @gr0tesques

he had gone from someone remy actively avoided, to someone he made excuses to spend more and more time with. smoking with him, getting high, it was what he looked forward to the most in the world. bad days after bad days, but nothing could rain on them if he knew he'd be seeing julian later, getting high with him and managing to actually unwind. their dynamic had shifted so heavily so quickly, even if the other didn't feel it, remy did.

he followed the usual schedule, and found himself in julian's room by eight that night, pulling out some spliffs he'd pre-rolled. "i've been practicing." he grinned, handing one to the other, "what do you think? gotta be better than the last time, right?" the last time, when the joint had practically fallen apart when lit. he was used to buying pre-rolled, but it was a worthy skill being able to roll your own, and one he'd endeavored to learn. "i brought groceries too, for when your munchies loving self inevitably gets hungry. you know, so i have more than ramen at my disposal to make you something with."

gr0tesques

‎ remy is sweet, in a try-hard kind of way. julian doesn't mind it as much as he used to. truthfully, he'd been enjoying hanging out with the kid more than he'd expected to. granted, both of them need to be under the influence of something to be able to appreciate the other's company—or at least julian does. look, weed isn't normally his poison. he thinks it slows down his mind, makes his thoughts read as blurry to him, but he finds that it does a good job of dulling the sharp aches he never realized had been there all this time. like the ones in his chest everytime harper brought up connor in an argument or whenever ellie tells him they can't watch movies on his laptop because of whatever thing she had going on with her friends that weren’t his friends, too.

and today is an ache-all-over kind of day that he doesn’t even think twice about inviting remy to his room that night for another smoke session.

plucking one of the rolls from remy’s hand, he holds it up against the light for show. he’d given remy some of his lucky strikes to take apart for practice. the dope he probably got from dakota. “good work, remulus,” julian says, deepening his voice for added effect, emulating some kind of weed appraiser. kneeling on the ground next to the bed where he’d plopped his backpack down as soon as he’d arrived, he pulls at the starfleet keychain hanging from his zipper and starts rummaging into the smaller compartment for his lighter. “a-ha.” he then hops onto his bed, situating himself against the headboard with a pillow wedged in between and lights the end of the spliff. he coughs, wincing as he scrambles back up to open the window next to his bed to let the smoke out. “do it here,” he says to remy, motioning towards the foot of the bed while he leans back against his pillow. “where’d you learn how to cook, anyway?”

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. remy jameson #flashback thread #drugs tw

closed starter for connor acosta ( @foolhcrdvs ) somewhere behind the cabin during the bonfire, 8:15pm.

‎ he could've made himself more useful earlier while everyone was setting up the bonfire. instead, he fell asleep for forty-five glorious minutes, some much-needed shuteye from the past couple of sleepless nights. and yet, he’d somehow come out of it feeling much worse, like his body had finally caught up to his mind and he wished he’d never crawled into bed in the first place.

and because he hadn’t done anything for the fire, he didn’t think he should enjoy the warmth as well as the other have until he made some meaningful contribution. he’d wandered off, closer to the lake than he would’ve liked, but it was the only place besides the bonfire area that was lit enough by the dock nearby to see if he could find any more pieces of wood he could use for kindling to keep the fire burning.

so far, he’d only managed to gather a few twigs, which would hardly do anything. probably easier to just pour some whiskey in it. or he could throw himself into the fire. whichever was more convenient.

the sound of some twigs snapping behind caused julian to turn around, nearly knocking himself out from under his feet in the process. a shadowy figure emerged from the trees, and from the little that julian could see, it was a person, which was much better than it being a bear. however, that person bearing an unfortunate resemblance to connor acosta might make him choose the bear instead. “i swear to god, if you start whipping your dick out to take a piss…” julian warned him, pointing a long, skinny twig in connor’s direction. the other, smaller twigs were carried in the right flap of his jacket which he held securely against his chest. “...i’m gonna shove this stick so far up your pee-hole it’s gonna come right out of your ass.” he usually wasn't so forthcoming with his hostility, but something about connor always just rubbed him the wrong way and brought out all vicious intents from him.

#int. julian koenig / the red herring #ft. connor acosta

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs