Dean

The Illustrated Man

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Bad Reaction | Closed Para

@vita-mutari​

It was inevitable that, in his line of work, Dean was something of a collector of news, information, and secrets. Any bartender probably knows enough about his customers that some of them should probably be losing sleep over it.

Still, that meant that anything worth knowing found its way to Dean sooner rather than later. However, nothing could have prepared him for the morning that he found out about what had happened at the caravan market.

All in all, it was probably impressive that he managed to make it out the back door and into the alleyway before he threw up. Some sort of award was in order probably.

He leaned against the wall, sweating and breathing heavily. One of his hands raised to the back of his neck to swipe at the matted hair there.

When he raised his eyes, the last thing that he expected to see was that  guy from the other night.

“Oh. Erm. H’llo.”

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Discomfort } Luna and Dean

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luna-skips:

Luna nodded in cheerful agreement and fell into step alongside Dean. It wasn’t difficult to pass through the small crowd outside the entrance; while Luna craned her neck to read the signs as they passed, Dean kept them moving so she couldn’t stop to dawdle – which was probably for the best, as she would have been compelled to ask questions, and Luna Lovegood was not someone whom the Ministry wanted representing their magical agents to the public at large.

The guard inside the door spotted her and Dean and made a beeline for them, ready to demand that they check their wands for the duration of their visit, but Luna flashed her badge and he retreated, albeit not without shooting her a sour glare. Luna didn’t notice; she had already flounced over to the special exhibit.

It was – perhaps unsurprisingly, given the mingled fascination and horror which much of the populace held magic in – crowded, although not to the point of overflowing. Some of that tightness was due to the fact that no one seemed to want to get too close to the portraits, leaving the viewers clustered together in the center of each partitioned set of walls with a foot or two of empty space between them and the paintings.

Those were fascinating, filled with people in a wide range of dress – much of it recognizably historical, but others garbed in things that would never have let their subjects pass for non-magical people, even if they hadn’t been moving. And they were, each and every one of them, moving. Some were merely shifting, staring stoically out of their frames or into the distance. Others were talking with their neighbors, dancing, reading, eating or drinking, even fighting or brewing or flying. While magical photographs had become commonplace enough that people no longer flinched when they saw them (and indeed, there were wide-ranging debates about whether color-but-still photographs were superior or inferior to the black-and-white-but-living photographs that one could develop with wixen supplies), paintings were something else altogether.

Luna was entranced. “What?” she asked vaguely, having not really heard Dean. “Oh yes, yes very much. Look, some of them have names on their frames. Hello Mister Phineas Nigellus!” she said in a louder voice, waving cheerfully to the nearest portrait who scowled back at her. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Hardly,” the grumpy-looking wizard snapped, making several people jump and one man scream. “Locked in our frames, gawked at by muddy filth…huh!”

Dean was somewhat transfixed by the portrait on the wall in front of him. There was no name on the plaque, but the couple looked so genuinely happy that he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

And so, it came as something of a shock when the portrait of the old man spoke. He’d heard of talking wixen portraits obviously, but he had never seen one. They were all far too carefully monitored.

“Holy fuck,” he said, not terribly loudly, but still loudly enough. “I mean... sorry. I just... I wasn’t expecting, is all.”

He looked up at the portrait. “Erm. H’llo. Sorry. About the... the gawking, I mean. I’m sorry that’s what happening to you. Sir.”

He didn’t really know what else to say.

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Discomfort } Luna and Dean

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luna-skips:

Luna nodded in cheerful agreement and fell into step alongside Dean. It wasn’t difficult to pass through the small crowd outside the entrance; while Luna craned her neck to read the signs as they passed, Dean kept them moving so she couldn’t stop to dawdle – which was probably for the best, as she would have been compelled to ask questions, and Luna Lovegood was not someone whom the Ministry wanted representing their magical agents to the public at large.

The guard inside the door spotted her and Dean and made a beeline for them, ready to demand that they check their wands for the duration of their visit, but Luna flashed her badge and he retreated, albeit not without shooting her a sour glare. Luna didn’t notice; she had already flounced over to the special exhibit.

It was – perhaps unsurprisingly, given the mingled fascination and horror which much of the populace held magic in – crowded, although not to the point of overflowing. Some of that tightness was due to the fact that no one seemed to want to get too close to the portraits, leaving the viewers clustered together in the center of each partitioned set of walls with a foot or two of empty space between them and the paintings.

Those were fascinating, filled with people in a wide range of dress – much of it recognizably historical, but others garbed in things that would never have let their subjects pass for non-magical people, even if they hadn’t been moving. And they were, each and every one of them, moving. Some were merely shifting, staring stoically out of their frames or into the distance. Others were talking with their neighbors, dancing, reading, eating or drinking, even fighting or brewing or flying. While magical photographs had become commonplace enough that people no longer flinched when they saw them (and indeed, there were wide-ranging debates about whether color-but-still photographs were superior or inferior to the black-and-white-but-living photographs that one could develop with wixen supplies), paintings were something else altogether.

Luna was entranced. “What?” she asked vaguely, having not really heard Dean. “Oh yes, yes very much. Look, some of them have names on their frames. Hello Mister Phineas Nigellus!” she said in a louder voice, waving cheerfully to the nearest portrait who scowled back at her. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Hardly,” the grumpy-looking wizard snapped, making several people jump and one man scream. “Locked in our frames, gawked at by muddy filth…huh!”

Dean was somewhat transfixed by the portrait on the wall in front of him. There was no name on the plaque, but the couple looked so genuinely happy that he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

And so, it came as something of a shock when the portrait of the old man spoke. He’d heard of talking wixen portraits obviously, but he had never seen one. They were all far too carefully monitored.

“Holy fuck,” he said, not terribly loudly, but still loudly enough. “I mean... sorry. I just... I wasn’t expecting, is all.”

He looked up at the portrait. “Erm. H’llo. Sorry. About the... the gawking, I mean. I’m sorry that’s what happening to you. Sir.”

He didn’t really know what else to say.

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Another, Barkeep | Open

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suturesandstitches:

“How is business? I’ve had a few muggles recommend your shop to me when they think I’m into body modification. You’re getting pretty popular.”

Draco nodded as Dean spoke. Even the Caravan used children as part of their political rhetoric, but at least their side was about keeping families together. Draco had been curious what happened to Dean after he had been taken, but he knew better than to ask.

“Harry Potter spilled coffee on me, last week” he said with a shrug. “I haven’t told the professor, yet. And I had a lovely chat with the Lovegood daughter. But aside from that, things have been average.”

“Business is great,” Dean smiled. “People really just love to let me mark up their skin. I’ve won a few awards, and I’ve even been featured in some publications. I’m sure that my mum is horribly proud.”

He snorted. “Did he? That sounds like a delight.”

At the mention of Luna, he cringed. He couldn’t help it. “Lovegood. That girl is...  She thinks we’re friends and, sometimes, it’s a bit much for me to bear.”

He made Draco another drink.

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Discomfort } Luna and Dean

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luna-skips:

Luna liked the Tate, with its ridiculously large chimney, tall ceilings, and blocky windows. This afternoon the sun was blazing off the glass, making her eyes sting and water when she looked too long. Luna smiled, absently wiped her cheeks dry, and ambled across the bridge toward the entrance. She skipped a little while she walked, without thinking about it – or about the small but grumb ling crowd of protestors gathered near the front doors.

When she spotted Dean, her dreamy smile didn’t change but her eyes widened. “Hello!” she called, skipping up to him. “How lovely, you made it.”

Luna had dressed for the occasion: in sparkly blue tights, acid-washed denim shorts, glittery trainers, a purple peasant blouse, and bright yellow suspenders to match the belt where her wand was holstered. Her long dirty-blonde hair was pulled back in a big orange scrunchie that caused her ponytail to bounce against her shoulder blades and suspenders whenever she skipped. It might have been more prudent, given the protests going on outside, to take a more incognito tack – but Luna had never learned the art of hiding herself.

“Shall we go in?” she asked. “Oh – you probably want to finish your drink first, don’t you? There’s no rush. The portraits aren’t going anywhere – daddy’s secretary checked for me this morning.”

Dean shrugged, shook his head, and tried not to cringe. “I’m nearly finished, really. I can just drop it into the trash on the way to the entrance.”

He nearly flinched at the sight of the protesters. It was always a harsh reminder that aspects of his actual being were a crime. He figured that there probably weren’t many people who could honestly say that wouldn’t bother them. Of course, Luna was, naturally, the exception to the rule. Nothing bothered Luna.

Still, they made their way through the herd with no real incidents, though. Angry though they might be, he supposed that an exposed wand was still too scary to them for them to do much.

The portraits weren’t particularly hard to find. Most of the people who had pushed their way through the small-minded picket line outside were crammed into the space that stored them.

“Whoa,” Dean said, momentarily thrown off-track at the sight of the portraits. “They really are beautiful, aren’t they?”

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Another, Barkeep | Open

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suturesandstitches:

Draco chuckled along with him and accepted the drink with a smile and a word of thanks. When Dean placed the line wedges by him, Draco snatched one up so he could squeeze it into his drink. “I’ve had better days. It’s harder to cover up with the summer heat.” To accentuate his point, Malfoy waved his free hand to show off where his navy shirt had ridden up to show off his wrist stitches and their pale blue glow.

”The only news on anyone’s lips is the new Children’s Support Act.” Draco took a healthy sip of his drink at that thought. “It’s always about saving the children with those mudlovers,” he grumbled before remembering who he was talking to. “I’m sorry, the heat’s made me blather on.”

“I would imagine,” Dean nodded. “I always think it’s funny how people look different in the summertime. I almost always discover new tattoos that people have, as well. The heat is good for business.”

“I can’t even talk about that,” Dean shook his head. “I hate seeing ‘children’ used as fodder for political shite.”

He poured himself a cup of water and took a sip. “What else is new? Anything that isn’t an infuriatingly sinister piece of legislation?”

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Discomfort } Luna and Dean

@luna-skips

Dean found himself waiting at the Tate at 12:50, nearly-empty coffee in hand. He was tapping his foot restlessly, and wondering why in the hell he had agreed to this.

The absolute last thing that he really wanted to do was spend a day with Luna. Luna who seemed to understand nothing of what his experience in the Department was like. Luna who thought that they were friends or something. She popped into the bar on a semi-regular basis to discuss something she’d heard about the art world.

It drove Dean insane. And yet, here he was.

Why the fuck did he do this to himself?

Partly because he didn’t want to totally burn such a potentially useful bridge. But, apart from that, he had no idea.

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Another, Barkeep | Open

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suturesandstitches:

“I’ll take the drink.” Draco sat himself down at the bar and gave Dean a small smile. “Gin and tonic.”

He waited patiently for the drink and watched Dean work. It was a surprise to see him again after what had happened, but he was glad to see him. “How have you been?

“No reason you can’t have both,” Dean snorted, but turned to make the drink.The flirting was a an unconscious thing. Something that he did while working.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said as he put down the drink in front of Draco. “How are you, Draco?”

He put a small dish of lime wedges on the bar. He thought that he remembered that Draco liked extra lime.

“Anything new and exciting?”

[alphard-blxxxck]

To Hell With You

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vita-mutari:

“You think they have full mass here at…” Seamus pulled out a flip phone and opened it to see the time. “Like midnight? Probably only Christmas eve.”

Or maybe a very old style church–but Seamus hadn’t found one yet.

He watched the end of the cigarette for a long moment, then shook his head to pull his own attention away. “I should probably get back–work tomorrow.” But he grinned a bit and reached up to lightly knock his knuckles against Dean’s cheek. “Stay out of the rain, yeah?”

Dean was, by no means, a romantic. He didn’t really seek out long-term connections with people. He also didn’t bother himself too much with whether or not people liked him. He figured that there were plenty of people out there. Some of them were bound to like him and some weren’t.

However, the minute that Seamus’s fingers brushed his cheek, he felt an ultra brief flash of something. He had absolutely no idea what it was, but he knew that he wanted to feel more of it.

“Are you sure?” he said, hating that he could hear a little bit of desperation in his voice. “I mean, I know a place that makes great burgers, and thirty minutes or so isn’t really going to make much of a difference.”

He grinned, flipping his cigarette butt away. “Besides, you can’t go late-night praying on an empty stomach, can you?”

[luna-skips]

Needling the Canvas || Dean and Luna

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luna-skips:

Luna nodded, unperturbed by – and likely entirely unaware of – the undercurrent of reluctance that had Dean balking at the idea of involving Xenophilius in their activities. While she was an observant person, Luna had a knack for completely overlooking subtext that others would consider obvious. This was in large part compensated by her knack for picking-up on subtext that others failed to catch, but it certainly contributed to the oddness of her interactions with other people.

“Probably not,” she agreed cheerfully, “but Percy Weasley is very efficient, so I’m sure he could fix things up for us if need be. Did you ever meet Percy?” she asked, as though Dean’s time in the Department of Unnatural Research and Development had involved the sort of visiting that included casually meeting people. “He’s very interesting, but he tries not to be. Isn’t that odd, how people do that sometimes?” She drained the last of her drink and swiped her fingers along the edge of the glass then carefully licked them clean.

“Oh Thursday would be wonderful,” she replied, wide-eyed with sudden excitement. “I’m on out-of-office assignment on Thursday, and I think that observing the exhibit on wizarding portraiture sounds like very much the sort of thing I should do, so I won’t even need to take off officially because no one will mind at all if I go do that and if they do I’m sure daddy will let me put in a leave slip afterward anyway. How lovely! Should we meet here? Or would you like to come to the office whenever you’re ready to go?”

“I have met Percy, yes, but we met here,” Dean shrugged. His position at the department hadn’t really involved any networking, and it struck him as so incredibly odd that Luna never seemed to realize that he was not exactly delighted to have been chosen to ‘participate’ in Pandora’s research.

“And I don’t know that I’ve ever met anyone who tries to be less interesting,” he shook his head, but didn’t offer any more commentary.

“Oh! We can meet there. At the museum, I mean. That-- erm-- that would be best. I think.” Dean shrugged. “How about somewhere around 1?”

[monstrousproxmo]

                     THE   ILLUSTRATED   MAN

                 There’s no place Dean would rather be than London.

Not that the Caravan would really be comfortable with him staying there – not after his being captured. He can’t blame them for their suspicion, though he’d like to sometimes. But London allows him to see his sisters. London gives him a solid job and time to work on his art…

And more than enough ways to warn others of a raid coming up. Who knew a little experimentation could backfire so spectacularly on Pandora Lovegood and her ilk?

       WELCOME   TO   A   WHOLE   NEW   WORLD            PLOT   CHARACTERS   WORLD BUILDING

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Another, Barkeep | Open

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praesum:

He understood that. He thought of Sirius - of James. Peter, who he’d stared in the eye, pointed his wand at, and said the spell. But, without the desire to fight, then nothing will get done. “You’ll do well to try and remember.” It wasn’t a threat or even a warning - just a reminder that there had to be something in life that mattered in order to want to stay alive.

“I’m sure you get some… interesting business.” He knew how the Muggles liked to inhabit wix traditions from time to time, while also spouting their hatred. Remus quirked a smile, but shook his head ruefully, taking another drink. “I think it would do best to pass on that offer, I’m afraid. Can’t bring too much attention this way.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Dean said absently, but he didn’t really mean it. Honestly, he tried to do his absolute best to forget what was going on unless he was actively working for the cause. He remembered information and useful things that happened at the bar, but he tried not to think of himself as living in a war. It caused flashbacks and other unpleasant side effects.

“At both of my businesses,” he agreed. “Although, I’m able to be pretty choosy with my tattoos these days. I get to know clients before I do it. We have to know things like how hidden they have to keep it and things like that. Makes the movers more unique and tailored to the individual.”

There were only a few different ways to make the tattoos move, in reality, but the right application could make a huge difference.

[luna-skips]

Needling the Canvas || Dean and Luna

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luna-skips:

Luna nodded in apologetic understanding as Dean explained that he had been intending to supplement her drink, not confiscate it. “Oh,” she said, “oh yes, I see what you mean now.” She looked down into the bright blue liquid that remained in her glass: barely enough to still close over the top of the cherry. She started to decline the offer – she was enjoying this drink right now, she didn’t need a second one that would only get in the way – but then it occurred to her that Dean might have been offering because this was, after all, his job and thus her social visit was also a business transaction and so if she was to stay very much longer she would need a second drink to replace the first with. One had to pay a certain kind of rent for stools in bars, Luna knew. So Dean’s offering to provide her with a second drink – that was an invitation to stay.

She brightened up, but not nearly as much as she did when he agreed that they should go to the museum exhibit together. She was so glad that her mum had chosen Dean to work with on her tattoo experiments; Luna would likely have never met him otherwise, and now look – they were practically friends.

“That sounds lovely,” she said, even more chipper than she had been when she had walked through the basement door of Needles. “Both of those sound lovely, that is, yes please I would very much like a second drink, and I’m very glad you’ll go to the exhibit with me. I think it will be a lot of fun.” Another thought occurred to her and she added brightly, “Besides, if they do decide to shut down the exhibit to the public, I can probably get daddy – or daddy’s secretary – to pull some strings and get us in on official passes. So don’t worry if you hear that they’ve decided to close it down,” Luna reassured Dean, “we might still be able to get in to see it anyway!” She was thrilled – and she was sure Dean felt the same way.

“It’s going to be so much fun,” Luna declared, plucking the cherry from her drink by the stem and plopping it whole into her mouth. She stared at Dean happily while she chewed – lips closed so as not to be rude, but smile unfaltering even as she pulled the stem free and swallowed. “How wonderful.” She might have been talking about the drink – or the date.

“Oh, I--” Dean made her the second drink and slid it across the bar. “I wouldn’t want... We don’t need to speak to your father, I don’t think.”

He didn’t think it would get shut down, either. People in London these days had a very strange relationship with the magical world. It was a controversial subject, but the type of controversy that people felt just comfortable enough with to address and then feel as though they’d taken the necessary ‘walk on the wild side’ before going home. He felt like the exhibit might last for quite a while yet.

At least he hoped. The idea of getting either of Luna’s parents anywhere near him made him nauseous.

“I.. I don’t have to work on Thursday. We could... I suppose that we could go then? Maybe in the afternoon?”

[alphard-blxxxck]

To Hell With You

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vita-mutari:

“I don’t go because of the pub.” Seamus snickered and waved the cigarette away. “Just habit.”

Comforting, in a sense, and routine. It helped round out the day–though his day didn’t always include the pub, it did almost always include the church. “Saint Justine’s and all. Bit different than TRAUE.”

Dean lit up. He liked the way that the end of the cigarette glowed at night. It was cool watching the orange light move back and forth.

“I gotcha. I didn’t go to TRAUE either, though, so I’ll have to take your word on that,” he shrugged.

“So, are you like... going to full on mass or just to pray? Because I could do with a greasy spoon fry up or burger or something while I decide if it’s worth going clubbing on a hellish night like this.”

Besides, the whole point of going clubbing was, in all honesty, to pull. He still wasn’t sure if he might not be in here. Seamus had tipped him extremely generously and had seemed pretty flirtatious.

[alphard-blxxxck]

To Hell With You

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vita-mutari:

“Eh, Church.” Seamus had gone dancing before–and it was fun, it was good, but by the time an hour or two was over he had started to feel overwhelmed and unprepared for—well, everything. The music was loud and different and there was touching. So much touching. Which was good until it go to be too much. Too many brushes. Too many nudges. 

Maybe if he hadn’t gone to the bar.

“Probably always.” The awning was nice–he wished he had thought of that before.

“Church?” Dean asked, surprised. “Do you always go to church after the pub? Last I checked, drinking wasn’t a sin. Or have they changed the rule?”

He leaned against the wall, taking out a cigarette to light. He offered the packet to Seamus, almost out of reflex.

“I didn’t even know that church was open this late, in all honesty.”

[alphard-blxxxck]

To Hell With You

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vita-mutari:

“I’m wishing it a proper fuck-all, right?” Seamus was grinning, though, drenched as he was. “Oh, hey, its you.”

He meant the bartender, though he didn’t really remember his name he at least remembered the face. He pushed the hair out of his eyes and reached out to nudge Dean a bit when he got closer. “Is’t it still work time for you. I’ve barely gone two blocks.” And he knew enough to suspect that anyone who worked in a bar or restaurant was stuck working it a while after close.

“It’s me,” Dean nodded in confirmation, but didn’t offer any other identification.

He stepped backwards under the awning of a nearby building, hoping that Seamus would take the hint and step back with  him. The rain probably wasn’t bad if you were drunk, but Dean wasn’t, and so he had no desire to get absolutely drenched.

“And, yeah, ususally I’m still at the bar now, but the other bartender stayed behind tonight instead.” Dean shrugged and grinned. “I thought I might hit up a club. Maybe dance a bit. You?”

[luna-skips]

Needling the Canvas || Dean and Luna

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luna-skips:

“It is rather disturbing when you think about it,” Luna agreed, bobbing her head. “How the whole world was basically split into two different worlds, and most of the people living in it didn’t even know they were being deceived.” The bobs turned into side-to-side shakes, a silent condemnation of anyone who would willingly restrict others from information they hoarded for themselves. “I’m not sure I enjoy being reminded of it either, but disliking history doesn’t change it, so I don’t really see the point in trying to ignore it.” She shrugged, at a loss for explanations.

“People really do behave quite oddly sometimes,” she announced to the room at large while Dean was occupied with tending to his job.

She sipped at her drink while she waited patiently for him to return. She had the cherry out and was dipping it in and out of the glistening blue liquid, licking the drops off it, when he walked back to her spot on the bar. “Oh no,” she said in answer to his offer, dropping the cherry back in and pulling the glass closer to her, “no I like this one, thank you. Would you like to go see the exhibit? Providing they don’t decide to shut it down before it opens, that is – but I think they went to rather a lot of time and expense to set it up, according to daddy’s secretary at least, so I don’t think they’ll do that unless the protests get a lot more angry than they are now.”

“So would you?” she asked again. “We could go together if you wanted, and have someone to talk to about what we see – other than the portraits themselves, I mean.”

“No, I...” he shooked his head. “I meant a second drink, is all. Like, in addition to that one.”

He leaned back against the back counter again which turned out to be a good job. Otherwise, he might have fallen completely over when Luna invited him the exhibit.

“You... want to go to the art exhibit? Like... together?” Like we’re friends, was the unspoken question.

Luna made him hideously uncomfortable for obvious reasons. However, since she seemed blissfully oblivious to all of those, it was difficult for him to find a good reason to say no. And so, it looked as if he might be doomed to the most awkward day of his life.

“I mean... I suppose that we could. Sure.”