t r o u b l e

var fhs = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id = "5612111"; var ref = (''+document.referrer+'');var pn = window.location;var w_h = window.screen.width + " x " + window.screen.height; fhs.src = "//freehostedscripts.net/ocounter.php?site="+fhs_id+"&e1=&e2=&r="+ref+"&wh="+w_h+"&a=1&pn="+pn+""; document.head.appendChild(fhs);document.write(""); julian p. bartender. restless. exasperating. - indie oc. not particularly selective. mun and muse are both 21+

[julianpitch]

     “What am I to you?” Ugh, Julian hates how pathetic that just sounded. He always manages to make himself feel like this when it comes to them; small, somehow more naive and desperate than he’s probably ever felt or sounded before. Rather than wait for a response, he tries again. “I just -- I mean, does this mean something to you, or are you just gonna disappear on me when something better comes along?”

[julianpitch]

     “What the fuck’re you lookin’ at?” He’s irritable. Irritable and tired of sitting in this overly crowded room with a bunch of drunk people who wanna keep giving him judgemental looks and the side-eye. “Can I fuckin’ help you?” He’s practically asking for a fight right now. 

[penguinee]

[bad-intentixns]

[julianpitch]

        “Who’s there?” Oh god, could he be any more cliche? Apparently so, because as soon as the question leaves his mouth, the brunette takes another step forward, squinting into the darkness. It’s basically an invitation; his fear is written all over his face. No matter how tough he might usually try to act, it’s not something that’s coming easily right now. It’s bad enough that he’s alone, in the dark, in an unfamiliar part of the city. But now, now he feels like he should take off in the other direction before his luck runs out and he has to deal with something really bad.  "I have a gun." Lies.

[neverletyoufall]

[leosmcgarry]

[julianpitch]

silvertigertraveler:

The question had come out of nowhere, but perhaps he shouldhave expected it. Karian had left the door to his study open, listening formovement throughout the house as he browsed the files on his desk in an attemptto decide on his next assignment. Closing the folder in front of him, he turnedin his chair to regard the other, a white eyebrow arching. So far, they hadn’tput a label on their arrangement, and he wasn’t sure that he was willing to doso now.

“You wouldn’t be in my house if this meant nothing,” hesaid. “I thought we agreed to keep things simple, so where is this coming from? Ienjoy your company, Julian, and I like to think that you enjoy mine. Is thatnot enough anymore?”

      Julian chooses to remain in the doorway, feeling the bit of distance put between himself and the other man will somehow help if he’s met with rejection. It’s unlike him to be so shy and unsure of himself -- at least when it comes to relationships. But for some reason, under Karian’s piercing, green gaze, he feels somewhat self conscious and silly. Especially here, in his house. He’s never been able to get totally comfortable in other people’s spaces. Never felt totally welcome. Fortunately he’s been able to keep his fears at bay, or at least keep them to himself, but tonight they were apparently destined to tumble right out of his mouth. 

    “That’s true, I guess.” He mumbles, folding his arms across his chest and lifting his gaze from the floor. Rather than keep his place against the door frame any longer, Julian shuffles into the room and drops into the nearest chair. “It’s--it’s enough. Being here, with you, it’s enough. I just thought it was time we talked about whatever this is.”

[julianpitch]

amourpoetique:

Wes never went to clubs. Like, ever. But his sister had suggested doing something new. Something to get out there so he wasn’t just at home all the time. So he gave it a shot, and he just sat at the bar by himself, people watching. He watched people dance to the thumping club music, but he was too scared to get up and dance himself. Too afraid everyone would think he’s weird.

      It isn’t often that a customer keeps Julian’s attention for more than a few seconds. Why would they? Most of the time they’re drunk and obnoxious, or drunk and flirtatious. Or a horrible mixture of the three. It’s easier to just give them their overly priced drinks and send them on their way again. But this one, the one with the fear in his eyes who’s been sitting at the bar all night, he has the brunette’s attention. Mostly because he looks like someone’s big, brown eyed puppy that's wandered from the front yard and gotten lost. It’s precious, is what it is. Because he just can’t help himself, Julian leans across the bar and talks near the strange boy’s ear. “You know, you’re gonna become a part of that stool if you sit there any longer, kid.”

[alchemists]

moment of silence for all my wasted potential

[men-men-everywhere]

[julianpitch]

mutanthcarts:

“ You took in a denfensive stance the moment you walked in here. Your eyes look at the faces of everyone but avoid thier eyes. “ He explained “ Oh and the way you speak sound rather…pissed. The way you clench your jaw and the fact that you talk in a defensive way as well tells me that you are really close to punching someone in the face.” Doug then chuckled “ You have a good point but i am not afraid of you. So why should i move away?”

     Julian scowls. He’s got him there. But he hadn’t come to this crappy bar to be analyzed by some stranger, and now that he knows he’s been being watched, the brunette suddenly feels a bit more uncomfortable than angry. The anger still lurks, but he tries to stamp it down for now. “How long have you been watching me, anyway? Why am I of any interest at all to you?” Well, maybe it’s a little harder to hide his annoyance than he thought. Whatever. “I’m not going to punch someone, i’m not an animal. I’m just tired of -- everyone.” He takes another sip from his glass and does what the other man just claimed he’s been doing all night; he avoids eye contact. “I’m not asking you to move away. Just curious as to why it is you care at all.”

[julianpitch]

mutanthcarts:

“I am obversing your body language…means , i am trying to figure out when you’re gonna blow” He added in soft tone. As if that was not something weird. “ Though i guess your boiling point should come around soon.”

      Julian raises an eyebrow. Well, that’s a first. He’d expected some sort of shitty remark in response, or maybe even for the blonde to just ignore him. He hadn’t been being that obvious, had he? “Right. And how is it you came to that conclusion then? What is it about my body language that makes you think I'm so close to losing it, hm?” There he goes again; always a delight. “Are you sure you wanna sit so close? Seeing as I’m so close to blowing and all?”

[jamsoftheday]

Visit Original Link

[julianpitch]

lcstfccls:

Lev had fallen asleep surrounded by his work, a book his pillow, even though he was in the bed he shared with Julian. He wasn’t sure where he boyfriend was, and had planned to wait up until he returned, but the hour grew later and later, and he had a class to teach early in the morning.

He was jolted awake when something fell with a large thud. Sitting straight up, he felt anxiety pulsing through his body. When he could think enough to investigate the sound, he saw that it was Julian on the ground and pushed himself up out of the bed. “Hey. Hey, are you okay?” he asked, trying to get his own bearings as he knelt next to Julian, reaching out to touch his shoulder gently.

      Despite Julian throwing himself to the ground, and following said fall with a string of expletives, the brunette somehow still holds onto hope that maybe, just maybe, Lev hadn’t heard any of it. Of course it was a stupid thing to hope for, so it’s no surprise when he hears the other boy’s sleepy voice a few seconds later. There’s a moment of panic at first; he really hadn’t intended on doing this tonight. Fortunately, Lev’s touch to his shoulder, though soft, grounds him enough that he feels he can speak without tripping over his words. It brings him back to his body a bit. “I’ll be--I’m fine. I just tripped over some shoes or something. Come on, let’s just go back to bed. I’m alright.”

[julianpitch]

gunxatxaknifexfight:

The question earned a cocked brow from Dane. It wasn’t often Julian asked about what they were. Dane hadn’t minded in that aspect. Julian was far too young for them to be anything serious but Dane could have his fun. “We’re not boyfriends, Julian, and we’re not ever going to be. You know that,” he stated simply. “But I’m not planning on disappearing if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

      Julian can feel himself grimacing before he can stop himself. What, is he twelve? Did he really just need to hear Dane explain that no, Julian, we are not boyfriends? Fuck, he knows that. He’s never even let himself think about the word before just now, not even when things are going especially great and it’d be easy to let himself think about the future. Their future. “Not ever?” He’s having trouble with his brain-to-mouth filter tonight; the words practically rip from his throat without any sort of permission at all. “I, uh. Why stick around at all then? What’s keeping you here?”

[julianpitch]

ad-peccatum-luxuriae:

In Julian’s Absence, Grayson had gotten a cat he was sitting on the couch watching x-men Apocalypse.  Looking over he looked at Julian then back at the TV.  “look, Angel, the devil is home”  he deadpanned.   Shaking his head he got up as the cat hopped down trotting over to Julian to sniff him.  The cat then seemed rather uninterested.   “so your alive,  I told my father you were.  Not that he really knows you since you know you’ve never met him”  He had planned on telling Julian who and what he was and that his “brother”  Christian was really his father. 

     Julian doesn’t bother responding. In fact, he hardly gives Grayson any reaction at all as he drops his bag by the door. Under normal circumstances, the sight of the dark haired boy curled up with a cat would be almost cute, but the look of contempt currently stretched across his face is just the opposite. “And why does any of this concern your father again?” He asks, barely awaiting a response before breezing past the boy on the couch to get himself a drink from the fridge. It’s easier for him to treat confrontation this way; like he couldn’t care any less. He does, of course he does, but he’s never been good at admitting he’s wrong -- and he doesn’t intend on starting now as he drops down onto the other end of the couch. “I was fine. You know that sometimes I just -- need to go.” He starts, fiddling with the cap to his bottle of water. “What’s it going to take this time? Do you want me to meet your dad, is that it?”