James Connolly @jamesconnollyxf - Tumblr Blog

TW: Smut - under read more.

Juliet’s gaze flickered over to the man knowing that she was probably being too harsh on him, but it was clear even to her that he was someone that was use to getting his way which tended to get underneath her skin. Despite growing up in a well off family, okay they were more than just well off, Juliet still had to work for certain things and wasn’t always allowed to charm those around her into giving into her every whim. Perhaps that was a lesson the pretty boy could learn.

“You can stop sucking up to me. Your charm is absolutely wasted because I’m still not getting you a drink,” She assured him with an amused smirk pulling at her lips. Even if she had no interest in him and was only there in the small chance that she would run into Jack it still felt good to be able to tell him off even slightly. “You do know who could get you a drink though? The bartender. Considering that’s their job, but I’d make sure to tip well. The owner can be a real pain in the ass,” She had meant the comment teasingly considering just how high in regard she held James but still.

James was used to being turned down. Tactics as forward as his often resulted in a rather polar range of results, not all of them good. What he wasn’t used to, was being turned away so bluntly. Usually his powers curbed that hateful edge to the woman’s voice, the indignant shuttering of her eyes against his charm. She didn’t seem affected in the slightest, as if she were talking to just any other flirtster in some back-alley bar. It meant she was either married or had an agenda, or so he guessed. Moments later when she glanced back towards the bar before making a jibe at the owner, he realized.

Oh Jacky-boy.

She was here to see his brother. Instantly James was interested in this woman for a plethora of other reasons, his smile widening further. A lover? Girlfriend? He shuddered at the possibilities before focusing back on the conversation. A hand waved at the bartender, gesturing to both of them for drinks without his eyes ever leaving her own. “You know Jack, then?” He inquired, innocent.

TW: Smut - under read more.

Ardora knew this dance. She knew the give and take that came with making a move as bold as she had. Her tongue swept across her lower lip and she bit down softly, eyes settling on him. The few moments of silence between them was almost unsettling. Almost. But then James snuffed out his cigarette and his smile shifted. It was an obvious acceptance of the offer she had just laid out and when he asked her the question, she couldn’t help but laugh, turning away from him slightly. Her nails raked up his thigh and she stopped just shy of actually touching him.

She leaned in and whispered into his ear, “surprise me.” He knew where she lived but she wasn’t quire sure where his room was. Did he have a top floor suite like she did? Or was he on a lower floor, sharing a room? Would they be kicking his roommate out or would they be keeping his neighbor awake all night? Hell, they’d probably be doing that regardless.

Ardora’s eyes remained focused solely on James, despite the warmth she knew was coming from the older gentleman at the bar. She had seen him eyeing her the moment she stepped inside. He was going to be pissy when they left. She could almost feel Vengeance in the bar, right now. He was hovering on the edge of the worlds, waiting for a moment to step in and sink his teeth into whoever crossed the line. Thus far, no one had reached out to touch her that she didn’t want touching her. James was safe; she wanted him. The others, though, they were at the mercy of her hellhound if they so much as looked at her the wrong way.

“Don’t wait too long…I just really wanna play.”

James found a comfortable familiarity in their interaction - an exchanging of banter in the form of verbal swordplay that he felt comfortable with. Prior to that evening, his life had been filled with an indescribably turmoil as the year he’d spent searching for his brother came to a burning climax that resulted in a broken relationship. Whether he would ever admit it or not, he needed to vent... and the best way he knew how to do that had apparently not changed in the past decade: women, drugs, alcohol. Was this something different? The question nagged at the back of his mind, a hesitation he was distinctly unfamiliar with when faced with situations such as this. This was to be the death of anything potentially more... was he alright with that?

In the midst of boiling emotions threatening to break surface, he found the answer was simple: yes.

“Leave.” Though his eyes never left hers, the words were clearly directed at the others in the bar, his emotion lending strength to his power as he lifted his voice to be sure it was audible. It happened instantly, as it always did when he put effort into it. As if some silent alarm had been rung, chairs squealed backwards as everyone in the bar simultaneously stood and shuffled away - even the bartender making himself scarce in the back rooms of the bar. She had asked him to surprise her, after all. He knew, however, that he was walking a fine line with using his power. Risking terrifying her, risking everything. That thrill simply enhanced the moment as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, eyes drifting shut. He lost himself, then. All else fading from focus as a hand came up to the nape of her neck, breathing in her scent, feeling the warmth of her skin... Feeling her.

Worth every second of waiting.

ofbouchard‌:

some types of magick buzzed , like a rumbling that started from deep within and began growing , it buzzed . it wasn’t rare to find francine stuck with her nose in some book , this particular time in one that jack had instructed her to study and understand . on the table , a piece of paper with the translations from the dead languages - particularly latin - to french , a black pen and a seemingly forgotten cup of tea drank only halfways with two biscuits on the side . but the buzzing caught her attention , and it clocked in with the entrance of a new persona into the stablishment . he was - besides from tremendously hot - sporting the look of someone that was experiencing contrary emotions . she wasn’t an empath , she wouldn’t really know like adelaide would , but she could read people well enough .

she watched the interaction the man had with another , seeing the other’s expression turn from confusion and annoyance to that of blank obedience . the only thing missing was for the phrase yes , master to float into existence . intrigued , frances closed the book that appeared just normal enough when it was closed , left it on the table atop of her notes , and propped her chin up on her palm while her elbow rested on the table . her eyes , purposefully trained on him . see if she could send a whiff of wind , of attention , towards him .

surely , this couldn’t be a good idea , but she was in an eternal quest for the rare to find , for her kin , and while this one probably wasn’t that , he looked odd enough .

James continued his thoughtless staring as a crystalline glass filled with amber liquid slid onto the counter in front of him - it wasn’t something that surprised him anymore. Moments later, it was lifted to his lips and sipped gently, the burning liquid offering some comfort in familiarity. If he was going to be waiting here for his brother - potentially hours - he would need a fair few drinks to get him through it... or perhaps merely some entertainment. At that thought, James took his glass in hand and swivelled on the chair, scouting about the cramped room.

Like a fish to a hook, his eyes catch on a woman who was staring at him, a slight smile tugging up the corner of his lips as his curiosity is piqued. She didn’t seem to be looking at him with that vague attraction he was slightly familiar with... but rather an open confusion and interest. Perhaps there was more to this woman then met the eye... that mere notion enough to take him from his seat as he strode over to her, one hand in his pocket. “You know, most people consider staring rude.” He mused playfully, that grin still in place. “The least you could do is come over and stare from not quite so far away.”

Jack didn’t particularly care for James’ brand of magic, all the time. However, for the moment he did not mind it. He could feel the tug to listen himself, but his own magic had done it’s work and he was able to remain where he was at. God only knew what James might do if left alone in Jack’s bar; the place he had worked hard to make his own. He’d made James angry, obviously. Then, Jack thought he had arrived at the bar with the intention of being angry. His original worry over the presence of his brother was apparently true. James had not changed so much as his looks hard. Still the same hotheaded, temperamental mess that he had been as a teen. Only now they were men and Jack had a life for himself and he was tired. He felt tired beyond his years, the kind of tired that could not be cured through sleep. He wanted his brother back, but he was beginning to see that would never happen.

He took what he hoped would be a steadying breath and faced James once more. Still, illogical. He had to consider the effort James must have put into finding him, searching him down. He crossed his arms. “This is my bar, I don’t particularly care if you want me here.” Of course that wasn’t the point that James was getting at, but Jack thought it might get him to think about his words. Not that anything had ever worked to that effect, before. He would not bother to address the insults. He had been called worse. Some by others, some by himself, either way they had ceased to have any effect a long time earlier. His jaw clenched. This was what James wanted. To unsteady him, to guilt him, to hurt him. If he allowed Jack to make him angry, it was taking a step backwards. But still, there was something gathering in his gut.

“I have hated myself enough for the both of us, but you forget that I was a mere child myself. And while I have grown up, it seems I have left you behind in childhood.” That would not help, he knew. But James was acting childish. Falling back on old tactics and temper tantrums to get his way, when Jack didn’t even think he knew what he wanted anymore. “If you’re not a child anymore, then start acting like it,” there was almost some passion in his tone, a hint of anger. He was tired of feeling guilty over things that had happened so far in the past. He was tired of looking back with remorse and regret and living his life off of the knowledge that he had failed.

“You are the one who came here looking for me, James. You searched me out, greeted me like a brother, and turned on me when I did the same. Tell me, how long did you spend looking? How long did you spend planning the words in your head? And for this? That is not what an adult does. If you wanted silence from me, you did not have to find me. And if you are supposedly so concerned over me worrying about you, then that is, in and of itself, concern for me. So either learn to use your words to express yourself like a proper adult, or leave my bar. I’m afraid I ran out of patience for your tantrums when I left.”

He’d done it now. He’d lost his temper and there was no telling what James might do in response. But he was angry. He was angry at James for being so stupid, for not being capable of merely asking for what he needed; as he clearly needed something. Jack turned back to the bar, hands landing on the cold wooden top. He felt as though he was aging another ten years. “Did you come back just to hurt me again, then? Is that all this is?”

James had come to France in search of his brother, nearly a year’s toiling in the back-alley streets of Europe finally yielding the location of his older sibling. Hours and hours spent asking after a man he barely knew, a forgotten remnant of the boy he once was. Staring at Jack now, James realized why it had taken so long for them to be reunited. They were completely different people. To pretend otherwise was a lie, a dream of better times.

He had run the day’s conversation over in his head countless times, turning it over and over until its edges were worn and broken. In none of those predicted scenarios did it end up this way, with that cold fury burning away behind his brother’s eyes. Seeing it, James felt a strange sense of satisfaction, as if this had been what he wanted all along. But no... that was a lie. He wanted to sit down with Jack, wanted to tell him about the years they’d been apart. Oh how he would have loved to see the look on Jack’s face when he was told about Natalie, James’ partner. The thought made James’ heartache.

Some wounds don’t heal.

James bore the insults and condescension with decidedly uncharacteristic grace. As if seeing himself through someone else’s eyes, he could see a fist swinging, the look of horror on Jack’s face. He could see the yelling match engulfing them, a bonfire reaching towards the heavens as they swung blow after blow until they were just as they had been all the years prior. Broken. James had come here to try and start the mending, to try and set his life on track. The path to that absolution was rocky, and dangerous and James had tricked himself into believing he didn’t need his brother for that. Tricked himself into thinking somehow his brother was the one who had made the mistakes, not him. That stark clarity was like a bucket of ice water over the head, James’ body tensing as the anger bled from him.

“I came to put an end to the pain I’ve been feeling ever since you left.” James murmured softly, barely audible. He couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes, then. Couldn’t bring himself to face that disappointment, that fury. It was an anger he was unfamiliar with, a demon wearing his brother’s features, one he did not wish to face but oh so dearly deserved. And so he turned towards the door, taking a single stride away from his family.

“I’m sorry.”

angelinelaurent‌:

“I did tell you to wait a bit before using it.” They leaned against the sink, finishing toweling off their hair before using the towel to wipe steam off the mirror. “You’re the one who decided to just get in.” They kept their eyes on the mirror, not giving him the attention he seemed to crave. It was more fun this way.

He smirked at that, an eyebrow climbing his forehead. “I wouldn’t have to wait if you didn’t use all the hot water.” Head turning to regard them with a sceptical glare. In truth he didn’t mind the cold water - it was refreshing... but they didn’t know that. No reason to toss away a perfectly good bargaining chip.

ardora-rousseau‌:

tw: alcohol, smoking

Whatever James thought he saw in the mirror, Ardora did not see. What she saw in front of her was a young man who thought he was hot shit, when, in reality, much like herself, he was nothing but broken glass on the bottom of someone’s foot. It wasn’t necessarily the worst thing to be but she knew what that meant. It meant baggage, a sob story no one wanted to hear and that he would probably never tell. It meant a shot of top shelf whiskey when you woke up some mornings or a shot of bottom shelf vodka to fall asleep. She was fine with that; this was her lot in life and she had made it for herself.

“Generous God, hmm? Someone thinks highly of themselves.” While she wanted the sarcasm to be there, she knew her words came off more sultry than accusatory. She simply couldn’t help herself with him. It was a game they both knew they were playing. Half of the time, the poor saps she drew in weren’t aware of the fact that this was just a game to her. James seemed perfectly clear with his intentions and she knew he was at least aware of her tendency to play.

His smile, though, had her question whether or not he really understood how casual she kept things. Even men she saw for months on end were all kept at arm’s distance. No one got close, no one knew anything about her - not really. Once someone started to know you, they learned secrets and they learned about the broken pieces you didn’t want anyone to see. She shook her head and then nodded at the server who brought her a similar glass to James’. She lifted her glass to his, clinking it gently. “To a memorable night.”

At his compliment, she shifted in her seat, her hand sliding down his thigh. “And I’m quite sure that I could out perform every single one of them.” Not subtle, not in the slightest, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t here to putz around and pretend like this wasn’t what they were both after. The game of sarcasm and longing looks was over. It was time to take what was hers. And she’d be damned if he felt like he was the one who started any of this.

TW: Smoking + Alcohol.

There was something lingering in that deep brunette gaze that James couldn’t quite manage to identify, a personality trait, perhaps? A judgment? She was deeper than she let on and he was well aware of that. He’d been aware ever since moving through her apartment, as it was likely the only space she hadn’t bothered to put false walls around. The pictures of her family, the occult texts... all of it harkened to the woman beneath the sultry exterior she was presenting to him. Did he want to dig beneath that? Did he want another mistake? No.

Their glasses clinked together as he bowed his head at her toast, taking a sip of the burning liquid for courage just as her hand slid along his thigh. The gesture, while expected in the long run, caught him off-guard in that moment and it took every ounce of his willpower not to spit a fine mist of burning liquor all over the woman. Where was this coming from? Confusion filled James’ thoughts as he studied her for a moment. Do I care?

Ever since how horribly James’ last attempt at monogamy had gone, he had tended to avoid anything but passing relations with the fairer sex. Meeting Ardora, he’d found a kinship in her sarcastic, biting wit. He told himself it was nothing more than two similar humours colliding and interweaving... and yet somewhere deep down he knew that to be a lie. With other girls, he had to force himself through the inevitable lead up to the final act. Wading through pleasantries and corny one-liners like sewage towards the glittering gem at the end of the tunnel that, in truth, was all either of them wanted. With Ardora, he found himself almost... enjoying that lead-up. So much so, he’d almost forgotten about that awaiting prize.

Her hand on his leg firmly reminded him of that final prize, well aware of the implications of such an act. It would cement them as just some passing fling, it would kill any chance he had of a more long term relationship. If he was lying to himself about her, he would never have another chance. Staring into her eyes for a long few seconds, his smile shifted. Death to love. He snuffed out his cigarette on the polished oak.

“Yours or mine?”

A decent portion of the house had gotten used to them appearing at random, they were sure. Nearly all the shock value was gone, which was why his surprise was just so much more fun. They did turn to appreciate the view as he dropped his towel though, a little disappointed at the way he’d turned cocky immediately. “Sweetheart, I help pay the water bill, same as you. Good try, though.” They teased, shaking their head at him.

“If you want a favor, you might try a little harder.” They continued, pulling on the clothes they’d brought with them with no visible rush, despite the way he was obviously getting ready to use the shower.

James was new to the household and found he was finding the place to get weirder with each passing day. One moment he was fending off an enchanted coffee pot trying to bash his head in, the next there was a hot naked woman climbing out of his shower. When life gives you lemons... wonder what the hell it’s expecting in return.

“It’s not the money that’s the issue.” He purred in response, not self-conscious in the slightest as he climbed into the shower’s confines and turned to half face them. With the appearance of innocence, his leg and the shower’s curtain cover his unmentionable... barely. He hoped it was teasing, but he got the feeling that she was no slave to her baser desires. “It’s the fact that the water is now cold.”

Jack supposed he should have expected this. James was emotional and passionate, if not always logical or reasonable. He was moved by his heart, not his head and that was often reflected in the choices that he made. In a way, this was another relief. If James had done everything right, tried to convince him that he was getting his life together, Jack always would have had a suspicion that there was something coming next. A request, a demand, something needed from him. This was proof that everything before him was honest. Well, riddled with poor attempts at lies and contradictions, but with a sincerity behind it that said he was trying, in some twisted way, to fix his mistakes.

He looked back at his empty glass, eyes rolling. This was going to be a long road, he could already tell. He could only hope that he would not be forced to watch this spiral downward. A wave at the bartender and the empty glass disappeared to be shortly replaced with a full one. He was still not looking at James as the words fell like stones around them. “You came to remind me that you exist and you are still alive, just to tell me to forget you. Your logic is as unfailing as ever.” His voice was back a dry, even tone. He knew that if he wasn’t careful in both his words and tone, this conversation would take an even steeper dive than it had already, and Jack was not prepared for that at the moment.

He went so far as to let a humorless laugh escape. Ever the hothead, James. He really hadn’t changed that much, bouncing from extreme to extreme. But Jack hadn’t changed much either, and he went on sitting still and letting James continue on in all his passion. “And you came here to tell me all of this to keep me from worrying?” There was a bitter sort of amusement in his tone when he spoke. This twisted and flawed logic was exactly what he should have expected, yet here he was feeling something twist in his chest with each word. He shut his eyes, but did not flinch at the shattering glass. He was feeling that old, deadly calm fall over him; the one he got with every fight with James. Of course it had always infuriated his brother, that he could remain so calm in the face of chaos. James thought it was because he simply didn’t feel, didn’t care. Jack didn’t think he would ever know how wrong he was about that. He felt enough that he did not dare to express it. There was no telling how it might come out should he allow it to escape.

Jack still did not look at James. He swallowed, nodding at the bartender who was giving him an uncomfortable look. The bar had gone silent, which meant word of this fight would get back to the house before the night was over. Well, it wasn’t as though the gossip wouldn’t get around quickly anyway. He forced himself to take a deep breath, remind himself that this was James. Raw, unplanned, James. He picked a piece of glass which had managed to bounce on to the bar up, flicking it with two fingers towards the trash can. “You may go on insisting I am not your brother, and you may continue to ‘fuck your life away’ as you say. It will not change the fact that you are my brother, and when you are ready, I will be here.”

James had once been dominated by his emotions, he still was to an extent... albeit, in a different way. Years prior, he had been a slave to the whims of the moment. Fury and morose aloofness walked hand in hand in accordance with the situation, spouts of fiery emotion prone to burning hot and fast, burning out just as quickly. These days James was still vulnerable to bouts of emotional weakness, however he had learned to master his temper thanks the realisation that his instability tended to parallel his volatile and potentially harmful powers.

‘your logic is as unfailing as ever’

The comment struck home deep in James’ chest, driving him to the edge of his albeit limited patience. those cold blue eyes of his brother - not even willing to look him in the eye in that moment as they rolled derisively - soundly shoved him over that aforementioned edge. James had not seen his brother in years, the man as close to a stranger as any he’d ever met... and yet he dismissed him like a child. That familiar anger came on hot and fast, bubbling, boiling. Threatening to overtake him entirely.

James forced his gaze away from his idol, from his guardian... though he’d never admit to those descriptions of his brother. Seeing himself in the reflection of the mirror by the bar, he saw his eyes had flared a deep and unnatural magenta. His voice, sounding cold and distant even to his own ears growled, “Leave.” and just like that... they did. As if some silent alarm had sounded, each and every single resident of the bar simply stood and filed out in an eerily ordered fashion, faces blank and distant. Enthralled. Such was the horror of James’ volatile power. He found he wasn’t even vaguely surprised to see his brother still standing there as he turned back to him.

“Did it ever cross your domesticated, cowardly mind that maybe I don’t even want you here?” James hissed, seething. Those twisting emotions raging to the surface as he squared off to his taller sibling. His voice grew cold, quiet, losing none of the fury. “We were alone. You, me and our mistakes. Mistakes you let me make.” It was a fallacy, a coward’s withdrawal from his own failings. James found he didn’t care. He met those cold eyes and for the first time in his thirty three years, felt hatred. Hatred for things that weren’t Jack’s fault. Hatred for their isolation. Hatred for...

Himself.

“I am not a child anymore, Jack.” James said softly, barely a whisper as he turned away. Finally withering under that stare, under that judgement, though his older brother would never make such things obvious. “And when I say I don’t want you to be there for me, I mean it.”

xfmanipulation‌:

“Well, thank you.” She eyed him, his lips on her hand before her finger was circling the edge of the glass to her side. A change of scenery. She could identify with that–except for her the change had been rather forced. Idly she found herself watching him, thinking of a reply that wouldn’t give too much of herself away.

A sharp, painted nail tapped at her lips. “I live here.” Her shoulder rose and then fell, her attention shifting to the drink as she brought it up to her lips.

James perked an eyebrow at her reply, grin widening a fraction as he reached for his own drink. The burning liquid warmed his stomach a moment later as his head tilts in a decidedly birdlike gesture. “You live here? At the bar? That must be fun.” That teasing grin was still in place as he settled one hand in his pocket, the other relaxed and clasping his crystalline glass. He knew what she’d meant, but there was no harm in a little joking, was there?

“Room service must be amazing.”

#sorry I took so long :(

ardora-rousseau‌:

tw: gross? I guess self harm??? idek but here it is

Ardora had a half dozen other things she should have been doing - clearing her next routine with Jormund, for one. Besides that, she had a laundry list of things just laundry – routine, boring tasks that she’d rather scoop her own eyes out from her eye sockets than complete. After dancing through her apartment with her radio turned up far too loud for a Thursday afternoon, she texted James back, flippantly responding whenever it was that she had the time. After a few hours, she got bored and put on a more suitable outfit for being out.

The Crusty Lemon was small enough that she didn’t have to worry about too many people bothering her when she was just trying to have a nice drink or two on her own but then James went and invited her somewhere else. She knew about Bar Lafayette. It was a much more upscale, whiskey cubes and burning cigars kind of a joint than she was used to. She was used to stiff drinks, ripped jeans, and swearing. She could only hope, as she pushed open the door to the bar, that the drinks were just as concentrated as they were at The Crusty Lemon.

She was almost immediately taken by the heavy scent of leather, mixing with the smell of real bourbon and cigar smoke. Ardora unzipped her leather jacket, the patch of a skeleton hand with the middle finger up on the inset of the sleeve flashing for just a moment before she put her arm back down. Just what she expected, almost entirely on the nose, except, it lacked the classy stripper toward the back. She hadn’t honestly been expecting one, but if one had been there, she wouldn’t have been surprised.

When she saw him, she slid in next to him, nudging him, the patch on the arm of her jacket connecting with his arm. Property of no one. “All this work just for a drink with me? Nice sweater.” She reached forward, glancing to him for just a moment before she lifted his glass to her lips, the alcohol coating her lips. She licked them clean and then looked toward the bar. “Is this your typical scene? Whiskey and cigars?”

TW: Alcohol + Smoking

The bar was far from James’ usual venue of choice, the upholstery, snobby accents and rich alcohol clashed with his traditional desire for the unclean. Something about worn leather, cheap cigarettes and easy smiles made James feel far more at ease. Here, though, he wouldn’t bump into people he knew. Wouldn’t accidentally twist their desires through his powers as they inflated due to his heightened emotions. Glancing at a mirror at the far corner of the room, he thought he saw his eyes flare a deep pink, if only for a second. A friend - now dead - had joked that he looked feminine whenever he got mad, failing to realise that the unnatural colour reflected the height of his power coming to volatile fruition.

And then she walked in.

More eyes than just his swivelled at the appearance from the brunette. Those brown eyes sweeping the room in all its extravagance and yet seeming to find it... wanting. She was not impressed. James found himself grinning at that, another sip of his clear amber drink igniting a warming sensation in the pit of his belly.

As she sat down, his grin only widened as she took his drink for a sip. The slight shininess of her lips as a result drew his gaze for a moment before he finally managed to lift it back to her eyes. They had just looked so kissable, but something told him that she knew that... She always knew. “And I’m beginning to regret it, already.” He teased, fixing her with that amused grin and slight head tilt. “But I couldn’t just let you wallow around in loneliness without me, could I?” He lifted a hand, palm up as if beseeching the very heavens themselves, “For I am a generous god, am I not?” Even effecting a subtle old-fashioned lilt to his voice, cementing the joke.

In the wake of his statement and her subsequent question, he shrugged. Taking another deep drag from his cigarette, he waved a hand at the bar for another drink. “Do you see any other cigars, here?” He mused, still smiling slightly. It was something about her presence, something about her that made him grin like an idiot. He forced the expression to lighten. Indeed, throughout the bar, his was the only smoke. Only allowed through a slight bit of persuasion to the owner. As heralded by a sign at the door, smoking was strictly forbidden.

“Besides, the drinks are good and the patrons tend to leave each other alone. Just how I like it... unless they’re as hot as you.” He casts a brief, exaggerated glance around at the stuffy old men occupying several of the seats. “Nope, they’re not. Definitely not. Close though.” He quipped with a wink.

angelinelaurent‌:

Confident eyes swept him up and down as a smirk settled on their face. He was cute. A little bit more buttoned up than they usually liked, but he was new. In a house where the people were constantly flowing in and out, that wasn’t entirely unique, but he did seem a bit different from most of the other residents, in a way they couldn’t quite put their finger on.

“I told you, the pipes around here are shit. My shower’s not working.” They shrugged, apparently unperturbed by his obvious state. “Don’t worry though, sweetheart, I’m all done. You can go take care of your little…problem.” They winked, wrapping their towel around themselves before heading for the door.

The person wasn’t necessarily his type... but that didn’t mean they weren’t attractive. they had a butch, ‘punch you in the face if you look at me the wrong way’ kind of vibe and that simultaneously scared and aroused James. Ironic, given his extensive dealings with countless people of exactly that nature. The people who sold drugs in France weren’t exactly sunshine unicorns.

That wink was all James needed to reign in control of himself, shoulders squaring as that cocky demeanor settled back into place. It was only that initial surprise that had put him off-side to his usual persona. He turned away from them as if uninterested, allowing his own towel to drop as he pulled back the curtains to the shower once more. Voice raising to call over his shoulder, “I think you owe me, for using the hot water. Feel free to repay how you see fit.” His tone was taunting... challenging.

Never one to back down... no matter how scary that crimson handprint was.

angelinelaurent

“May have used all the hot water, you’ll need to wait a few minutes.” Angel was apparently unperturbed by having someone else in the bathroom when they exited the shower. “Fucking awful pipes in this place, I swear.”

jamesconnollyxf

TW: NSFW... kinda?

James was decidedly tired from an extensively long day, a hand raking tiredly through his blonde waves as he discarded his suit jacket over a nearby clothes hook. His room was neat, not for trying but rather for lack of his presence in it most of the time. One thing he needed was a hot shower. His tense muscles ached, eager for the blissful relaxation that usually followed the burning heat of the house’s shower.

Wrapped only in a towel, James stepped into his bathroom just as a completely naked woman strode confidently from the shower. James was... shocked to say the least. He didn’t remember having slept with someone that day? Was he drunk? A brief sniff of his own brief suggested not.

So what the hell was she doing here?

He voiced that question moments later, a hand clasping over the knot of his towel as if worried it might fall. That said, something other than his hand was holding it up by that point. Who could blame him? She was beautiful, naked, and he was only a man.

#hisexpressioniskindacreepy! Sorry!

The bar was a distinct change of scenery, the old and worn down interior of the Crusty Lemon replaced with the newer, warmer decor of Bar Lafayette. It was a simple ensemble, wooden high-tables scattering an open floor capped by slightly risen stage on which a guitarist currently strummed away, high-tone warbling through the open space. Around the edges, booths offered a semblance of privacy, black leather upholstery facing inward to the polished wooden surfaces.

Within ten minutes of sitting down, a portly man who James recognized as the owner slid a crystalline rocks-glass filled with a double of aged whisky. “On the house, friend. Enjoy.” He rumbled, already waddling away. James didn’t even know the man’s name, nor did he particularly care. He was never going to turn down a free glass of whisky. Even if he knew it was only because his powers were particularly strong in that moment, his emotional response to a recent altercation with his brother causing his abilities to flare stronger than usual.

In truth he had come to the bar to be alone, away from those he might twist and hurt with this heightened ability... but then she had returned his text. That sultry demeanour, witty humour and taunting attitude made his heart race. She was so different. So...

James shook his head, sipping the drink while absently nudging the brown paper bag holding all her liquor with his foot. He doubted she would make an appearance - Ardora no doubt had better things to do, and she had made it evident she was not interested... and yet he found himself hoping. How unusual for him.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, mind wandering not unlike the sharp white smoke that escaped his parted lips. The cigarette was a testament to his fragile state - able to convince the owner to allow him inside, despite such things being severely against the bar’s rules.

He was dressed smartly for the bar - telling himself it was to attract the fairer sex. A lie. The blue cotton sweater over white and blue striped business shirt (unbuttoned stylishly) betrayed his intentions. He was trying to impress someone... likely, someone who wouldn’t even show. A distinctly un-James-like thing to do.

@ardora-rousseau

ardora-rousseau-blog

[Text Message]

ardora-rousseau-blog

jamesconnollyxf‌:

[Text Message] To: A; 4.36 p.m. Fair point. Next subject, then. {Ardora’s more expensive bottle, Everclear, likewise slightly more empty.}

[Text Message] To: J; 5:32 p.m. Oh no, not the Everclear! You monster. {Photo of a full cocktail in a dimly lit, nothing-special-looking bar}

jamesconnollyxf

[Text Message]

To: J; 5.40 p.m.

Having fun without me, I see. Enjoy.

{A photo of his jean-clad legs kicked up on a coffee table adorned with all her assorted alcohol bottles. His apartment door visible and wide open, inviting. Room number blazing: 25}

ardora-rousseau-blog

[Text Message]

ardora-rousseau-blog

jamesconnollyxf‌: [Text Message] To: Ardora ; 3.32 p.m. PHOTO: Ardora’s Tequila Bottle, decidedly more empty than the night before.

To: Ardora ; 3.34 p.m. She loses a limb every hour you don’t send a photo of your stunning face. Tick tock, A. Tick tock.

[Text Message] To: J; 3:36 p.m. She’s a cheap date, anyway. You can have her. {Photo: Ardora flipping off the camera, her face decidedly out of the frame.}

jamesconnollyxf

[Text Message]

To: A; 4.36 p.m.

Fair point. Next subject, then.

{Ardora’s more expensive bottle, Everclear, likewise slightly more empty.}

ardora-rousseau-blog

[Text Message]

To: J; 03:12 p.m. If you want to live, return the booze. Otherwise, it’s your funeral.

To: J; 03:12 p.m. 🔥 A

jamesconnollyxf

[Text Message]

To: Ardora ; 3.32 p.m.

PHOTO: Ardora’s Tequila Bottle, decidedly more empty than the night before.

To: Ardora ; 3.34 p.m.

She loses a limb every hour you don’t send a photo of your stunning face. Tick tock, A. Tick tock.

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James Connolly