Mike Driver
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
AnasAbdin
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
d e v o n
Discoholic 🪩
Show & Tell
JVL
Keni
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
★
Janaina Medeiros
Xuebing Du
i don't do bad sauce passes
ojovivo
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blake kathryn
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we're not kids anymore.
seen from Belgium
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@gxnymcde
POINT COUNT {10 May to 16 May)
claiming 66 points for JULIAN CONNOR
point breakdown :
STARTERS : [7] x [5] = [35]
REPLIES: [14] x [1] = [14]
MEMES : [17] x [1] = [17]
SUBTOTAL: 66
PREVIOUS WEEK TOTAL: 31
TOTAL: 97
JULIAN CONNOR now has 97 points
hxll-0:
It took almost all of his energy to not reduce himself to tears in front of Étienne and it damn near killed him to walk that long, ridiculous stretch from their spot in front of the glass pyramid illuminated by the small wisps of streetlights and moving cars back into the auction. It didn’t even take that many words for somebody to break his heart– that somebody wasn’t even an integral part of his life until a mere half an hour ago. How was he supposed to maintain optimism when the man he was supposed to marry regarded this arrangement as a sterile extension of some business deal? Milo peered back at Julian with his sad, sad eyes and sank down into the wooden bench now, pressing the heels of his hands against his face so he can aggressively wipe away the tears threatening to overflow past his thick lashes. With a small sniff, he responded with a watery croak, “Sad champagne.”
“Sad champagne it is,” Julian said, flagging down a waiter to get two glasses of champagne. He placed them both on the wooden bench, and sat beside Milo, putting his arm around the other in an attempt to bring some sort of physical comfort to him. Milo looked sad, and though he knew that wasn’t something he could likely fix now, he wanted to be there for him. “What happened?” he asked him, quietly, softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
hargrcaves:
antony stopped in his tracks, the angry furrow between his brows already smoothing out and a laugh already finding its way to his lips. “ julian, right? ” he shook his hand, the smile on his face two parts surprised and one part still completely lost in the middle of oxford. and his phone had died on him, google maps and all. “ call me antony, seriously. mr hargreaves only comes out when i’m in legal trouble. ” he had a good memory for people, maybe because he just thrived on human contact, maybe it was childhood abandonment issues manifesting in his adulthood –– big shout out to his team great britain mandated therapist. so of course he remembered the lawyer. “ we did –– small world! ” antony ran a hand through his dark hair, and a chuckle escaped him. “ close, i’m trying to meet a friend for lunch and i’ve passed this street twice already. what about you? i thought i’d find you in rome, not up here. ”
“That’s me,” he confirmed, smiling at the fact that the other seemed to remember him. “Antony it is, then. We’re midway into Trinity term, so I’ve got plenty of things to submit. I’m holing up here for easy access to my professors and so that there’s fewer distractions. It’s good to run into you.” Julian said, and while the pile of books that were in his arms revealed that he had much to do, he deserved a break from revising, and he was always eager to help a member of the Society out. “I can walk you to your destination. I was just heading out myself to go back to London. What’s the place called?”
hxll-0:
“Of course, I’m sure she’d love to meet more of the other initiates. I’d tell her to speak more in the group chat but people can be quite…intimidating.” People like himself, who didn’t know when to shut the fuck up or stop adding more layers to their emotional barrier. Bocephus inspected Julian’s expression, contemplating. He mentioned this husband before in the chat, he must have. Napoleone. “I still think it’s exemplary that you’ve chosen this line of work. Many people would take advantage of your husband’s status and spend their days in bed draped in diamonds and covered in money but you actually still attempt to help people. Amazing. If you weren’t married I’d take you out myself,” he muttered behind his glass as he took a sip, “I don’t think it’s fair that your husband can keep you to himself when he already gets to go home to you. Has the Prime Minister never learned to share?”
A small smile curled his lips at the flattery; Julian certainly wouldn’t reject it. “Who’s to say I don’t drape myself in diamonds and money in my free time?” he said, another chuckle leaving his lips, but he shook his head. “That’s sweet of you to say. I’ve always been ambitious, I suppose. I can’t sit around and do nothing. There’s too much that’s wrong with the world and not enough time to fix it all with my own hands.” Julian took every failure to heart; every failed case, every life lost. Ambition overflowed, and sometimes he tended to forget that he was human, that he was just as helpless as everybody else. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. Napoleone is very generous. He’s a kind soul, a man for the people. I happen to be a special case,” he said, his grin cutting sharply. “I would tell you more, but I think I’ll have to go backstage soon for the bidding; it was a pleasure meeting you.”
hxll-0:
It was so nice that Julian picked up on Milo’s need for affectionate reassurance; he placed his hand over his friend’s and gave him a small pout, silently pleading for a ‘there there, he will be a great lover and excellent in bed’ which evidently did come in a much more refined, well worded form. Milo’s expression melted when his friend expressed his enthusiasm; it was so touching that Julian seemed to believe in him (and in love) so much more than he did. The Frenchman pressed his index knuckle against the corner of his eye and tried to fight back the emotional tear threatening to damage this conversation.”I don’t know what I want from a marriage. I don’t think I’ve ever had a relationship that was even close to turning into a marriage. Maybe he does? Oh no, what if he has an ex-husband or stepchildren or, like, a really obnoxious parrot I have to take care of?”
“I’m sure you’ll learn to live with the parrot,” Julian said, stifling his laughter and patting Milo’s back. Soon enough Milo had to leave, and Julian was left to mingle with others. At some point during the party, though, he noticed Milo talking to a man — a man that he couldn’t have missed, the famed editor of Paris Vogue. His fiancé. Once they finished speaking, and Milo departed, Julian came over to him, reaching for his hand. “Well, how did it go? Do we get a happy champagne or a sad champagne?”
hxll-0:
“Having siblings can be advantageous. When you need an alibi, for one, or somebody to have your back when you’re trying to fight a group of drunk teenagers.Speaking hypothetically of course. I’m also friends with Astrid Van Renesslaer so I get to see her alone while others might jump at the opportunity to experience just how wonderful she is. I think the painting deserves more attention instead; after all, it can’t charm you with witty conversation and pretty smiles like Astrid can.” Deciding that he was talking a bit too obsessively about the girl, Bo took to this change in subject more readily. “Human rights lawyer? Do you work for a nonprofit like Amnesty? I know the director quite well; they’re all great people. Do you have anyone in particular you’d like bidding on you?”
Julian raised an eyebrow as the other talked about the artist, beginning to suspect that there was something rather unspoken there. A smile curled his lips. “She sounds charming. Could you introduce us, do you think?” At the next few questions, he hummed and tilted his head. “I don’t work for one particular organization, but I have worked with Amnesty International, yes. They’re definitely good people. Right now I’m working on the refugee crisis in Europe. It’s a terrible issue; I wish I could do so much more than what I can right now.” Julian dedicated almost all hours to work. “Even now I’m struggling to justify the time I’m spending away from work for this trip to Paris. I know, though, that NGOs are always in need of financial help, and I know my husband will direct his bids to my charities of choice. I wouldn’t mind whoever bids on me — the more money that goes to charity, the better. My husband can get quite jealous, though — I doubt he’d let anybody else win.”
hxll-0:
“Well, it is Vogue,” he responded softly, “So it’s even better.” Milo wasn’t particularly concerned about Étienne’s level of attractiveness (because it wasn’t even debatable, he was pretty gorgeous), but about how damn successful he was. “What if he gets bored of me? Or he never loves me to begin with? We’d have Lucy and Ricky beds and have sex once a year and he’d cheat on me with some beautiful twink in Rio and call him ‘a business trip’ while I grow crows feet and rely on flirting with the bellhop of our apartment to get my sexual rush.”
Julian couldn’t keep the amusement off his face, but he gave him another reassuring squeeze while he tried to figure out best how to approach the topic. “I can’t claim to be any particular expert at marriage, but... I had much the same fear with my husband. But he’s always been supportive of my ambitions, and I of his.You’re a famous as hell model, Baptiste. You’re constantly topping lists, and you’ve still got a long way to go ahead of you. So that’s not the only outcome that’s possible. He might grow to love you with every inch of his soul, who’s to say? If it doesn’t work out, if that happens — then who’s anyone else to tell you what to do? Divorce him and make his life hell; find true love, or whatever. What are you looking for in a marriage, anyway?”
hxll-0:
“A family friend,” he replied weakly, looking around the room just in case the man happened to pop up behind him to eavesdrop on their conversation, “I haven’t seen him since I was, like, ten years old. I didn’t put two and two together until I Googled his name, you know, so I can find if he had an Instagram and he’s the Chief Editor of Vogue France. My friend told me his assistants sleep in cycles so one of them would be awake at all times because he refuses to wait for more than 15 minutes for a response.” Milo reached into his pocket for his phone and showed him a picture he found of the other from a Cosmopolitan interview. While he waited for Julian to inspect the picture, he pressed his lips together. “I don’t like the word arranged. It makes me sound like a bouquet. My mother..found me a match. I guess. That will end in marriage most likely.”
“He sounds straight out of The Devil Wears Prada,” Julian laughed, though he gave Milo’s arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He looked at the photograph assessingly, humming to himself. “Well, he’s not bad looking. Not at all. He’s got a certain type of handomeness about him.” Julian lifted a doubtful eyebrow at the next sentence. “A match, that you didn’t make for yourself, that will end in marriage. Sounds like an arranged marriage to me. But you can call it what you want. I hope he turns out to be a good guy. If he does anything to hurt you, I will personally hunt him down, trust me on this. Introduce us after you meet, hm?”
hxll-0:
“Ah, so you tested the Cadillac before you put down your payment,” Milo winked, “He’s very handsome; I’d be inclined to meet him in his room, too, if he whispered sweet nothings in Italian and promised me to show all the hidden eateries around Rome. Plus, Italian always sounds so sexy, doesn’t it?” He raised a hand and waved it as he spoke the one phrase he knew, “Dov'è la toilette?” With a small laugh, the brunette peered down at his champagne and gave it a small swirl while he attempted to collect the right words for his next sentence. “There are a lot of really, really handsome people taking part in this Society. You saw the whole Felix thing in the chat and I’ve always been a sucker for authority– even if it terrifies me sometimes. Duncan was sweet to offer to come to this with me, too. Oliver’s cute, so is Theo– Teó ,” he corrected himself with a nervous laugh, “David, you, obviously. I just… got this text from mama, though. Have you seen her with my father yet? I should really introduce you– anyway, um. There was something about an arranged marriage she mentioned a while ago and then she never said anything until… tonight.”
Julian laughed at the other’s words, amused by Milo’s antics. “Very sexy indeed.” He lifted an eyebrow at the other’s enumeration of handsome people in the society, and grinned especially at the mention of himself. “You know what I like to hear.” Though the monologue was punctuated with a more serious thought, one that actually brought concern to Julian, with the way it was phrased. Once he parsed through it, he blinked. “Milo, are you being put into an arranged marriage? With whom? Are they nice? Do you know them? Are they at least gorgeous?”
hxll-0:
Bo looked at him like he just took a piss in front of him right then and there. Always ever so guarded, he eyed the stranger until his brain finished scanning all memories of anyone named Julian. “Ah, you’re one of the pleasant ones,” he muttered, taking a slow drink from his glass before frowning rather harshly, “I never talk in there unless my dumbass sister wanted to slander my name. Bocephus, but you know that if you’ve been reading the chat.” He really should remember to mute the stupid thing soon. Bo made a vague gesture towards his right, “Astrid’s. Or Astrid, but I’m still debating. Yourself?”
“That sounds like a compliment,” Julian said, soft laughter spilling from softer lips. “No, you’re right, there’s no missing it. You and your sister have an... interesting relationship. Sometimes, I wish I had siblings — you make me feel lucky I don’t have one,” he teased, a sharp grin now cutting through previously gentle features. He followed the direction of his gesture, his gaze lingering for some moments on the painting. “Oh, the Van Renesslaer. Truly one of the best artists of our time, I wouldn’t blame you. Why not both?” At the question of his own choice, he laughed. “I’ve just been told off about not speaking about my own lack of wealth, but I’m a Human Rights Lawyer — I don’t have much money to spend on things like these. I give back in my own way. And I’m on auction, so hopefully I’ll be able to contribute something for tonight still.“
who: @gxnymcde
He always adored chatting up his old friend who had a superhero job, an admirable feat for someone who was as old as he was. While Julian got married, hit milestones in life, and climbed the excellence ladder in his career, Milo was… great at wearing clothes and looking okay in them. While they chatted over champagne and soft music, Milo caught Napoleone’s gaze wandering over towards Julian and smiled to himself. “It must be so nice to have someone to love you forever and ever. I don’t think you ever told me about how you two met,” he murmured, taking a small sip from his flute, “All the men I meet outside of this whole thing are other models, influencers, or… DJs.”
"Forever and ever,” he repeated, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Julian hummed softly, taking a drink from his glass of champagne. “How we met? I was interning for a renowned International Human Rights Lawyer, working the refugee situation in Italy. He had a dinner with top politicians, and as his best intern, I was invited to come with him. I caught Napoleone’s eye, we flirted, and I gave him my calling card. He called me that night; I went to his room, and that was the beginning of our relationship.” Julian excluded certain parts from the narrative, of course — their contract, the commercial aspect of their relationship, the fact that Napoleone had given him everything he wanted and continued to give him everything he wanted for a price. Anyway, it didn’t matter. Theirs was the image of a perfect marriage, and Julian would never mar it, not even to a friend. “I’m sure there are models, influencers, and DJs capable of loving you forever and ever, Milo. Or, who knows, maybe someone from the society will woo you and tie you down. Anyone catch your attention so far?”
with @gxnymcde at the louvre
julian’s a familiar face, and blanche has always been super keen to see him whenever the two of them cross paths. blanche has always admired the other’s tenacity and dedication in the legal field, imbued as he was by a kind of discipline that they’ve always felt they were kind of lacking in, leading them to respect others who possessed such a trait. they were familiar with the other’s origins and the discrepancy between them both, a divide that they tried not to pay too much mind to save for trying not to rub their ( obvious ? ) privilege on the other’s face.
( they like to think they’ve succeeded for the most part on this. )
❛ julian, darling ! ❜ they greet, waving their hand towards the other and touching their cheeks to his. upon drawing away, their mouth immediately launched forth a barrage of questions, revealing their earnest desire to catch up with one they considered a good associate. ❛ how’s work ? and how’s the husband ? ❜ a teasing kind of tone seeps through. ❛ i’ve heard you’re up on the block; i’ve half a mind to go into a bidding war with him, y’know ! ❜
At the call of his name, his head whipped around to find its source. The grin formed easily, it was always good to see an old acquaintance — a friend, even, perhaps — and he smiled as their cheeks touched in greeting. “Tonight’s a reprieve from work and work-related discussions,” Julian said, a soft laugh escaping from his lips. “The husband is well, thank you. He’s over there, if you want to talk to him.” He gestured towards Napoleone, who was talking to some politician or the other, and a smirk curled his lips when the other mentioned a bidding war. “Well, it’s for a good cause, isn’t it?” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and took a sip from his champagne glass. “Have you finally brought peace to the world and ended all suffering yet? I don’t know how you plan to that with this lot — it seems rather low on their list of priorities, façade of charity aside.”
With their schedules and of course living in different countries, she hadn’t been able to see Julian as much as she would have liked. So when she’d heard he was in London and her flatmate was out for the night, having him over seemed the perfect method to rectify how long it had been. “You’re lucky I had a bit of spare time on my hands, it was just going to be salad.” She set the two plates down with a little flourish before a smile tugged at her lips, soft teasing tone slipping out. “Don’t worry, I counted every calorie that went into it.” She slid into the seat across from him, her usual adapted posture slipping slightly when he already knew her better than most.
Instead of picking up her cutlery and digging in the way her empty stomach was urging her to ( she really should stop accidentally missing meals ) elbow was propped on the table, chin resting on her hand. Dark grey eyes flickered with genuine interest, smile making its way onto her lips. “So what’s new? How’s the husband?”
@gxnymcde
It was far, far too long since he had last seen Beth Wilson, and Julian was excited for this meeting. Arriving in her flat, he immediately gave her a hug, and offered to help with anything, but she was just about done, and so instead he took a seat and laughed at her remark. “I wouldn’t have minded just salad,” he said, gazing down at the plate and inspecting the beautifully cooked meal. “I love this, though. Thank you so much for having me over. When you’re in Rome — come by and visit, I’ll return the favour.”
Julian had no qualms about beginning to eat — he savoured the taste and chewed slowly as he thought on answer to the question. “Oh, the usual. Work, my master’s, the children. It’s a hell of a life. There’s the Society, of course — now I’ve got about a billion members to impress. It’s hard,” he said, and she probably already knew why it was hard. People of their background — they had to claw their way into things like this. Without lineage, without prestige to back them up, all they had were themselves. “Oh, he’s fantastic, as always. He’s been very supportive with the whole thing, you know I’m lucky to have him. What about you? Any developments in your love life that I haven’t heard about yet?”
@spcakeasy
The wonderful thing about having a member as a husband was that he’d been introduced to most members already. Jude Fitzgerald being one of them. And how elegantly they stood in the middle of the Louvre, Julian spotting them in the crowd from a distance. “Jude,” he greeted, an effervescent smile cutting through his expression. “It’s good to see you here. Have any of the pieces caught your eye?”
@hxll-0
There was something about the Henry Darger that just drew Julian in — he couldn’t help but walk towards it time and time again, finding a new detail with each new inspection. It was striking, and hopefully after tonight, it would be his. Care of his husband, of course. He looked to the man beside him, vaguely recognising the figure. “You’re an initiate, aren’t you? I’ve been seeing your face a lot in the chat,” Julian said, flashing a pleasant smile, eager to meet other people in the same process. “Julian Connor. Do you have eyes on any of the pieces tonight?”
Events of this nature had never been Xan’s cup of tea (that being said, even tea itself was not Alexandria Bailey’s cup of tea). It was the charitable aspect that drew her in, nonetheless. Anyone paying even the least bit of attention was aware that Xan’s empathy knew no bounds.
While the bidding for a date was not of interest to her, some of the writings and books had caught her eye. Rather than bid, however, she opted to donate with no expectation of anything in return then snuck off to a presently less populated section of the museum. Here, she found a seat on a cushioned bench and took her taupe colored notebook from her bag. It had been a birthday gift from a friend, one of few things that they knew she would use and enjoy. Material possessions often fell short on her priority list.
Although only half its pages had at this point been utilized, the leather bound journal was stuffed nearly to the point of disintegration. Its spine, labeled simply with her name, strained against its contents. Its cover displayed months of wear, more evident on the lightly colored material than on black journals she’d preferred in the past. She flipped the journal open, and quickly realized that whatever spark of inspiration she’d had moments ago was now lost on her. Her thoughts even more so drawn from it by the footsteps of another auction attendee rounding the corner. “What brings you to this side of the Louvre?” she wondered, aloud. Not in a disgruntled manner, but rather the opposite. With an easy smile. “The auction is the other way.”
At some point during the event, Napoleone had left his side to mingle with others. And Julian was fine with that, he held well on his own and mingled as well. But as the night went on, he found the familiar desire for tobacco itching, and so he went away from the hall where the auction was being held, and surprised himself to find a familiar figure seated so far from the main event. “Perhaps I was looking for you,” he said, offering the other sly smile. “Hello, Xan. I was just looking for an entrance away from the main one. I want to smoke, but I don’t want to get hounded by the paps,” he explained. “What are you writing, then?”
@propesolem
Of course Julian had accepted the request from the Society — it might hurt his standing, after all, if he had declined. Regardless, he loved being the center of attention, and any occasion to dress up to the nines was a welcome one. The Louvre was always a delight, too, and so with a pleasant mood he inspected the lots up for auction, curiously examining each one with an exacting eye. Beside him was his husband, from whom he would have to part ways at some point in the evening to be sold for auction himself, but for now who had him all to himself. “The Henry Darger would look fantastic in the London flat, don’t you think, darling?”
