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@hishedonism
#HISHEDONISM : this is an independent & selective roleplay blog for elijah dunne !
penned by cole : i use he / him pronouns , i'm 24 years old , & my current timezone is bst / gmt + 1 .
a basic / shortened version of my rules page can be found under the cut if you're unable to access a desktop !
feel free to fill out the interest tracker to let me know you're down to interact & give me an idea of what you're interested in !
INTEREST TRACKER | PROMO | PINTEREST | PLAYLIST
W H A T D O E S N ' T K I L L Y O U . . .
independent & selective dual - muse for
nick furcillo & dylan lenivy
of supermassive's the quarry
dylan gingerly takes elijah's hand and inhales the other line.
"aren't you proud of me? i didnt spill a single atom"
he smiles at him as soon as his eyes focus. dylan had been crushing on elijah for most of the school year but with his horrific autism, he never knew how to address it other than inviting him over to his dorm room whenever he got the chance.
"y'know we really should be studying for that big test tomorrow..."
he extends a hand to proudly pat dylan on the cheek — or, at least, that's his intention, but with the room tilting on its axis like it is it ends up being more of a clumsy, undignified smack into his face.
⠀ ⠀❛ i'm so proud. you're gonna get a good grade in coke. ❜
he takes another long, lazy drag from the joint, closing one eye to focus on dylan past the haze of intoxication as he speaks — only to toss his head back and let out the world's loudest, most drawn - out groan at his choice of subject matter.
⠀ ⠀❛ no - ooo - o, no, we shouldn't, because who cares ? why are you even thinking about that right now ? just fuck— fucking— ❜
he tilts forward precariously, set on distracting him, because clearly he's not high enough yet if he's still trying to be sensible, and ends up half - straddling his lap, one hand braced against the wall behind dylan as the other grips his jaw, fingers nudging his mouth open insistently. he leans in, exhales the smoke he's holding — and if he overbalances a little, their lips just on the edge of too close, he's not sober enough to realise.
like this post if you want me to follow you from my dylan lenivy & nick furcillo blog once it's up & running btw !
dylan takes a careful sip of the fresh water and saw his ring again.
"honestly, i wish i could remember last night. i don't even remember meeting a good looking guy like yourself"
he paused for a moment while taking another sip, desperate to even attempt to remember the guy's name, 'it's just like that carrie underwood song' he thought to himself before a name finally came to him,
"aha! your name is elliot! nice name by the way."
he shrugs, the slope of his shoulders entirely unconcerned as he drops back onto the unoccupied side of the bed. this is so far from his first black - out waking - to - a - stranger experience, and barring any unpleasant surprises this one seems better than most ; cute, actual conversation, no gay panic, no sneaking out, and a compliment ?
⠀ ⠀❛ hey, no worries. i'm not gonna turn down a refresher round. ❜
his wink is promptly dethroned by an involuntary pout at the other's inability to recall his name, and he's almost insulted — until he realises he can't even make an educated stab at his.
⠀ ⠀❛ elijah, actually, but you're close enough that i'm not even mad. yours, uh ... i got nothin'. alex, sam, matt, daniel, james, john, william, anthony — am i getting anywhere ? ❜
if he rattles off as many common first names as he can think of, he's statistically gotta land on the right one. eventually. probably.
@creatureshrieks said : ❛ dangerous to be out so late. ❜ (Frank!)
he just barely rights himself before he trips over his own feet in his alarm, spinning on one heel to face whoever's just interrupted his awkward fumbling with the ( stupidly complicated, who the fuck can understand this stuff— ) generator he'd been bent over. cold dread sinks into him at the sight of that crude, sketched smile, even though he knew damn well what he'd be seeing, but a guy can hope, can't he, and, oh, god, he's so fucked.
⠀ ⠀❛ mm - hmm, yep, you're right, i see that now, and i will be sure to rectify that. by leaving. so if you could, uh, just let me slide past you — ❜
despite the far - too - optimistic suggestion, he's edging backwards as he rambles, hands behind him and searching blindly for the sill of the open window he knows is just there.
@popularmxnster / ( cont . )
"Smoke what? But the answer to any thing is yes." Billy replied casually. He had been smoking for years now, a terrible habit he couldnt let go of. "Why do you ask? You need a light or something?" He ran a hand through his semi greasy brown locks before fishing out a lighter from his jeans. A black lighter of course. "Here man."
he claps his hands together, almost in mock prayer, before he plucks the lighter from the other's grasp and sparks it, palms cupped around the flame.
⠀ ⠀❛ my savior, man, thank you. ❜
the drag he takes is deep and grateful, shoulders relaxing as he tips his head back for a moment before tossing the lighter back. he follows it by extending the joint to him, dangling it between two fingers in offering.
⠀ ⠀❛ want a draw ? seems only fair. no cooties, i promise. ❜
how are we feeling about this ask banner for dylan so far should it be shorter / take up less space or does it look fine as it is
?
it looks good like that
Make Him Smaller
The Nick Variant
how are we feeling about this ask banner for dylan so far should it be shorter / take up less space or does it look fine as it is
?
it looks good like that
Make Him Smaller
@creatureshrieks said : ❛ did you hurt yourself? ❜ (Frank/Steve but Frank would definitely be mocking lol)
he bares his teeth in the vague direction of that leering mask, half a snarl and half a grimace as he cradles his smarting fingers to his chest.
⠀ ⠀❛ you think you're so clever, you keep the damn fire going. ❜
it's not like he knows how to fucking do it, which is likely more than evident by now considering he'd gotten himself burnt the moment he'd tried to stoke the faltering flames back to life. despite the retort, he turns back to the fire, sulkily prodding at it with a stick while he tests his other hand, fist clenching and unclenching.
⠀ ⠀❛ which of the, like, dozen legions are you, anyway ? ❜
he's fairly sure there's more than one ; he vaguely recalls pink hair, and this guy decidedly lacks pink. how many more is another question entirely.
if you’re ever losing an argument hit’em with the “you want me.”
@witchaotics said : ❛ here, take this. you’ll catch a cold. ❜
he accepts the coat morgan is draping around his shoulders without question, tugging at the material with chilled fingers to close it tighter around his frame.
⠀ ⠀❛ y'know, i wouldn't need it if someone hadn't let me come out here in a mesh shirt. at two a.m. ❜
it had looked good, though ; a vainer part of him is mourning the necessity of covering up, soothed only by the knowledge that everyone around them is too far gone to pay much more attention as it is.
@cruortype ➤ plotted starter ➤ dylan
he's long since lost track of how far gone they are, let alone how many hours they've been here for. he peers at his phone, idly taps at it with a fingernail to check the time, but after the third time he tries with absolutely no recollection of the numbers he's staring at he decides it really doesn't matter much anyway. he pushes off the wall they've been leant back against, turns to dylan with the joint he's been holding —
⠀ ⠀❛ here, take this — ❜
only to belatedly realise his hands are occupied with the alcohol bottle and his own phone, opting instead to unceremoniously shove the end of the stick between the other's lips for safekeeping.
benefit numero uno of dylan's roommate dropping out early : no one to interrupt, and very little risk of getting caught.
he crawls to the edge of the bed on his knees, leans over dylan's legs just far enough to grab the small, unassuming packet they'd tossed atop the cabinet not so long ago, and blindly pats around the blankets between them, searching for the college textbook they've been horrifically misusing for the better part of the night. evidently, though, it's been thrown to the floor somewhere over the course of the past hour, and he does not have the patience to go looking, so after some deliberation he sits back on his heels, extends an arm and — only a little shakily — tips two powder - white lines along the length of his wrist, straightening them with a pinky before he ducks down and inhales.
his eyes close briefly, head dropping back, before blown pupils focus once more on dylan, and he shifts angles, offers his arm while he steals the joint back from his mouth with his free hand.
⠀ ⠀❛ spill any and you owe me, like, six hundred drinks, i am so serious. ❜
which is your moral alignment ?
your result : chaotic neutral ( 81% )
you hold your freedom as your most treasured possession, and may be willing to do whatever is necessary to maintain it. in a conflict between two outside forces, you may play both sides to help you gain that which you desire, which can be dangerous not handled wisely ; simultaneously, you may not necessarily act so strongly to defend others' freedom. this lack of regard for authority and its constraints, with no true animosity for humanity, molds you into the archetypal "maverick".
tagged by : yoinked from dash tagging : @estarion, @dcviltriggcr, @heartate, @xkuja & @peakyblinder
bonus other verses / au versions where he's Significantly Different under the cut
@creatureshrieks said : ❛ see? i’m not just a pretty face. ❜ (Steve!)
he elects to forego a response for a few moments, far too occupied by catching his breath where he's doubled over, hands braced on his knees.
⠀ ⠀❛ jesus — christ — ❜
eventually, once he's reasonably sure he's not going to vomit or scream, he straightens, gaze flitting between steve, the nail - adorned bat he's twirling in one hand, and the dark, unmoving remains of the creature he'd just — annoyingly impressively — utilised it on.
⠀ ⠀❛ okay, first of all, who said pretty ? i'm pretty. you're passable. on a good day. ❜
the grin he flashes is shaky with adrenaline, a little hysterical at the edges.
⠀ ⠀❛ but hitting dem— demi— whatever - dogs with that thing, yeah, yep, keep doing that. big fan. ❜
Perhaps the worst thing that could happen to a person was being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And unfortunately, that had happened to Elijah. It wasn't Malchim's plan for him to be a witness to what just happened, he would have preferred to keep the younger in the dark on that matter for a little while longer. But it wasn't like he could predict when someone would give him a visit (it's why he tried to keep his circle of friends small) or run into him at the worst possible moment. But, oh well, he had to make do with what he could in this situation. He didn't see Elijah as much of a threat anyway.
"I know," Malchim replied, a small grin forming on his face. "Nobody would believe you even if you tried. And I doubt you'd like to be next if you do." And the fact that the other hadn't tried to run away either also gave him a good feeling about this guy. If it was anyone else, they would have already made an attempt at running towards the closest police station (and ultimately failing). Perhaps... Elijah maybe had a bit of a fascination that he hadn't unlocked just yet. But he was already scared enough, Malchim didn't want to push his buttons too much.
"Would you like me to drive you home? My car is parked nearby. It's be best if nobody sees you looking like that."
he's shaking his head faster than he thought was possible, curls tossed into disarray as the words sink like a cold rock in his gut. he did not want to be next, or on the list at all, thank you very much, and he's intensely aware of the blade still dangled between malchim's fingers, still dripping with — with — jesus, he just saw someone die.
no one would believe you — he can't argue it, and the helplessness threatens to tip him into desperate, hysterical laughter. he knows how it will look, knows they'll take one glance at his drug use, his means of income, his history, and write him off ; if they don't decide he belongs in a cell more than malchim does.
the offer has him staring down at himself, his clothes and skin stained crimson ( oh, holy shit, he has dead guy all over him ), before his eyes dart up to malchim's once more, wide and fearful.
⠀ ⠀❛ are you really gonna drive me home, or are you gonna take me to some shady basement somewhere and — ❜
the effect of the stabbing gesture he makes is somewhat diminished by the fact his hand is trembling hard enough to be noticeable.
@worldly-diversity said : "You're such a fucking menace." There was no missing the fond inflection to his voice, at least not to those who knew him. || Gavin ofc x3
the seat he's occupying is tilted perilously, his heels kicked up on gavin's kitchen table as he balances on the chair's back legs. number one benefit of a built - in calculation system — knowing exactly how far you can risk it without ending up in a graceless heap on the floor. he tips his head back to gaze at gavin upside - down, and the grin he flashes him is shameless — he knows that tone, knows what annoyed looks like, and this isn't it.
sing - song, goading —
⠀ ⠀❛ but you lo - ooo - ove me. ❜
