- ̗̀ something in your heart, but you won't talk about it

lance newcastle, xxvi. you feel it in your bones but you won’t act on it. there’s something in your heart but you won’t talk talk talk about it. i’ve been thinking 'bout it. what you’ve got is magic.

[lilith-emerson]

lancenewcastle:

“What’s the point of having so much money, but not spending it, especially for things I’m being given?” he answered rhetorically, persistently sliding a(n excessive) roll of cash towards her. “That’s not exactly it. I’d love for it to be that simple and terrific, but it’s more of a ‘rich douche’ vibe. I’ve had someone tell me that I usually talk like I’m bored ‘cause I’m grounded from my personal yacht. That, or I’m pretentious as fuck.” He was glad that she didn’t seem to know he was the heir of quite high-profile entrepreneurs. With alcohol reducing his inhibitions, he expressed the thought. “You know, you’re familiar. Are you famous? But, you know, I know the feeling of being known. I wasn’t really in show business or anything. More like just business. Not always nice, being recognized. I won’t figure out your identity if you don’t figure out mine. I’m Lance, good to meet you.” He observed her curiously as they shook hands. “You’re very tiny. ‘Lil’ is an appropriate nickname, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Pushing the cash back with a laugh, Lil shook her head. “That is the point. It’s something you’re being given. Not something you’re purchasing. Hang onto it for next round.” She gave him an amused look as he explained, eyes turning back to the roll of cash before rising back to his face. “I can see why they say that, but as long as you’re not actually a douche, you’re cool by me.” The witch had had more than her fair share of dealing with actually pretentious people and it wasn’t something she was fond of, truth be told. Her eyes studied his face as he continued, trying to place if she’d seen him before. He did look familiar, now that she was thinking on it. “Mm, I may have been. Maybe we’ve seen each other at a party somewhere? Did you ever spend time in New York?” Lilith snorted a laugh as she shook his hand. “Trust me, I’ve heard that before. It’s like my parents planned it, right?”

[lancenewcastle]

He almost went on his rant about how he and other affluent, influential people were accustomed to being given everything without paying, and that it wasn’t right. He held his tongue, however, and replied, “I’ve spent time pretty much everywhere, but I don’t stay for long. Perhaps we have.” He smiled as he let go of her hand; he had made a conscious effort to reduce his grip’s firmness. The people surrounding him during his corporate days would praise his handshake as “presidential”, but he really just thought his family taught him to seem overly passive-aggressive. “Right. It’s cute. My parents just made my name sound like directions you’d find on a map: Lance,” he said, pronouncing it like “lands”, “middle name Weston....” He trailed off, not wanting to provide his surname. “Whether I am or am not actually a douche depends on your perspective, I suppose. I ought to be upfront: I’m not the nicest, most virtuous man you’ll meet; but I try. So, have you been in New Orleans for a while?” 

[wildhcartcd]

lancenewcastle:

Lance knew it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism, but the knowledge that his envelope’s arrival was a mere few days away only worsened his tendency to seek comfort in things like these. Marriage was a responsibility, responsibility was forced upon him all his life. Marriage, in particular, he had no experience with; he grew up a victim of the tired trope of wealthy son to dysfunctional parents whose inability to teach him the ways of happy marriage led to his own resistance against settling down. He’d had wonderful romances that he ended up walking away from; he didn’t like thinking now about how he was going to (possibly) wed someone he didn’t even know or love. When he turned to see the attractive woman who approached him, he couldn’t help indulging in the easiness; this was so pleasantly unlike the weight of marriage. “I wouldn’t mind either, or both,” he replied, returning her easy smirk. “But I hope you know that doesn’t mean I’ll play by all your rules. Second one depends on how open you are to seeing my way as well.”

Claire was ( much to her perpetual chagrin ) fascinated by beauty; when that beauty happened to encompass a person, especially when that person was standing right in front of her, she often lost what little ability she had to be a “normal” person. Gods, he’s handsome— keep your shit together, Burnham. Her eyes shifted over him unabashed, a reflexive widening of her smile brightening her features the longer he allowed her eyes to linger. A familiarly heady warmth curled sinuously in her belly and she stepped closer to the man in front of her, a playful tilt to the smile still affixed to her lips. “I suppose that means you’ll have to show me exactly what this way of yours is, won’t you?” An eyebrow quirked, a soft challenge slipping into her words before she turned her gaze away and ordered another drink, eager to see exactly where this interaction took the pair of them. Claire’s nose twitched briefly in the second it took her to turn her attention back to the yet unnamed man she was intent on keeping company with, and she took a small measure of comfort in the strangely soothing scent wafting around them. “I’m Claire, by the way. I’m told introductions are a good way to go these days.”

[lancenewcastle]

It was his pleasure to return the beautiful stranger’s perusal, his eyes going over her appreciatively. “Exactly what I was getting at. I feel it’s only right to let you know beforehand,” he said, a conspicuously tongue-in-cheek note of worry in his voice, “that I move at a fast pace, but my demonstrations take hours and hours. It's not for the faint of heart.” His smirk remained, with a careful amount of buoyant playful quality on display; he didn’t want his flirting to come on too aggressive. He kept a chivalrous distance, although it was clear that neither of them had chaste intentions. “But I assure you, it's a hard but fulfilling experience. Is that what you're looking for right now, Claire?” He trailed off so she could provide a name. “My name’s Lance, and they aren’t wrong. Are you new in town? I don’t think I’d forget if we’ve met before.”

[lancenewcastle]

you know him. you love him. through a thousand lifetimes, across millions of stars, you’d find him, you’d never leave him. you love him. ( poem )

LANCE AND DARCY in their different timelines*, for @ornamentalswords ♡

*gifs 1-2: modern anastasia (1997); gif 3: rogue one (star wars); gif 4: pushing daisies/the little mermaid (1989); gif 5: the night circus/original timeline; gif 6: the ‘bad place’ (happy in love) universe

[lancenewcastle]

"What part of that could possibly sound like a joke?" he replied, obviously wryly. "The fact that it's an underwater wedding or the human-sized, shimmering, but still edible cake for entertainers to jump out of?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry. But here's the amount they're willing to pay." He produced a mock-cheque with a figure exceeding 6 digits, then shrugged. His family was stupid, but they had money; and if this chef was up for the challenge, he couldn't really stop her.

[wildhcartcd]

Since her time spent alone in the Adirondacks Claire had avoided interactions with strangers with a fierce zeal— if had gotten to the point that even passing strangers on the street forced her to avert her eyes and tamp down whatever urges she had to socialize, to greet, to live. It took a Herculean effort on her part to leave the hotel on any given night, and with restless energy sparking through her fingertips and a pressure clinging tightly to the space between her ribs, she’d made the short journey to Witch’s Brew for a drink. Sleep had come in fits the last few nights, and Claire was eager for something to exhaust her; whether it ended up being alcohol or sex, she wasn’t fussed, she simply wanted to fall into bed so tired her mind would hardly be able to function, let alone urge along her nightmares. She nursed a gin and tonic for the better part of fifteen minutes before she caught sight of a lone person at the other end of the bar and downed what remained, licking her lips briefly as she approached. “I don’t suppose you’d let me buy you a drink?” She quirked an eyebrow, an easy, flirtatious smirk curling at her mouth. “Or steal you away, whichever you’d prefer.”

[lancenewcastle]

Lance knew it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism, but the knowledge that his envelope’s arrival was a mere few days away only worsened his tendency to seek comfort in things like these. Marriage was a responsibility, responsibility was forced upon him all his life. Marriage, in particular, he had no experience with; he grew up a victim of the tired trope of wealthy son to dysfunctional parents whose inability to teach him the ways of happy marriage led to his own resistance against settling down. He’d had wonderful romances that he ended up walking away from; he didn’t like thinking now about how he was going to (possibly) wed someone he didn’t even know or love. When he turned to see the attractive woman who approached him, he couldn’t help indulging in the easiness; this was so pleasantly unlike the weight of marriage. “I wouldn’t mind either, or both,” he replied, returning her easy smirk. “But I hope you know that doesn’t mean I’ll play by all your rules. Second one depends on how open you are to seeing my way as well.”

[lancenewcastle]

Lance had to contemplate the question, actually. "I didn't realize I smell like flowers, but that does make sense. I frequently go to places where flowers grow." However, he would've imagined he smelled more like the fragrance he was using (Creed Original Vetiver) or mint, or maybe those plant-based scents were the "floral" ones Rowel spoke of. "Well, there's this rich family who wants me to go to a banquet to talk about things with them. I don't really like them, though, and they don't know what I look like. They've never heard my voice either." He didn't mean to sound condescending, but he probably did as he endeavored to make his speech easily understood for Rowel. "I was thinking you could pretend to be me for that day. A 'banquet' means many different kinds of foods. And you can keep the super fancy things I give you. Just think of how impressed your girl would be." He boldly handed Rowel the sleek, shiny cell phone he bought for the purpose. "What do you say?"

[reckless-nico]

“Ugh.  Wolves and vamps have it so much better with their super senses.  Finding another witch without a spell sucks.”  Nico huffed, deciding to give up on his search and move down the street to the bookstore.  Finding a good witch was already a daunting task without it having to be difficult as well.  He ended up in the back of a used book store, moodily flipping through books that caught his interest when he moved and nearly knocked a shelf over. “Shit.  Sorry.”

[lancenewcastle]

Lance could have easily lifted the bookshelf without using a spell, but his knee-jerk response was an overt display of magic. He’d heard the other man’s complaint, and so decided to joke after the near-accident, “Hey, dude. A simple ‘Do you happen to be a witch as well?’ would have sufficed. No need to try to drop a shelf on me.” He queried, “So what’s your predicament? How can I help?”

[lancenewcastle]

“What’s the point of having so much money, but not spending it, especially for things I’m being given?” he answered rhetorically, persistently sliding a(n excessive) roll of cash towards her. “That’s not exactly it. I’d love for it to be that simple and terrific, but it’s more of a ‘rich douche’ vibe. I’ve had someone tell me that I usually talk like I’m bored ‘cause I’m grounded from my personal yacht. That, or I’m pretentious as fuck.” He was glad that she didn’t seem to know he was the heir of quite high-profile entrepreneurs. With alcohol reducing his inhibitions, he expressed the thought. “You know, you’re familiar. Are you famous? But, you know, I know the feeling of being known. I wasn’t really in show business or anything. More like just business. Not always nice, being recognized. I won’t figure out your identity if you don’t figure out mine. I’m Lance, good to meet you.” He observed her curiously as they shook hands. “You’re very tiny. ‘Lil’ is an appropriate nickname, if you don’t mind me saying.”

[lancenewcastle]

He let out a chuckle. It wasn’t the patronizing variety, although he couldn’t blame her if she interpreted it as such. He did have a bit of a tendency to sound stuck-up. He’d heard people attributing his unintentional air of arrogance to classic, proud looks; strong features and a smile that habitually leaned into a smirk. “I will take you up on the whiskey. But you have to let me pay. That’s not a request.” He offered his hand for her to shake. “I’m being friendly,” he clarified. “I know that it can be hard to tell if I’m being nice or condescending, or both. Just the first one. You’ll get used to it.” 

[lancenewcastle]

“We can try to ascertain how much damage has been caused,” offered Lance. “I’ve got a ton of time and resources to spare. It wouldn’t be a problem. I’m a witch, for one. Really sorry, again.” He returned the stranger’s composed, small smile, although he was still internally surprised that there wasn’t more rancor. “If you need a replacement or any other compensation, please do tell me. It’s the opposite of a bother, really. I walk around with so much money in my pocket, I’m practically begging to get robbed.”

[vampiresofnola]

Cedric was having a not so great few weeks.  He was hiding himself in his room, not wanting to catch anymore weird people.  He finally decided to get some fresh air and new scenery so he went down to the bar.  When someone sat next to him, Cedric turned his head but was quickly defeated once he saw who it was.  “Look Lance I’m not in the mood, so if you are here to make fun of me just fuck off alright?  We can all pretend that you successfully hurt my feelings and we can just skip over it, yes?”

@lancenewcastle

[lancenewcastle]

The other male had caught Lance off-guard before he could open his mouth. He actually wasn’t going to say anything insulting — nothing harshly so, at least, for anyone could tell that and when Cedric was especially down in the dumps. “Are you implying,” he countered, although with a conscious effort towards gentleness, “that I don’t actually successfully hurt your feelings?” With a light shake of his head, he said, “No, if I’m being serious. I’m not here to make fun of you.” It was sincere, but he didn’t plan to be Cedric’s counselor either. Not that he knew how. “I’m here for a drink. Do you trust me to buy you one?” That was the best way of cheering up the other that he was aware of. “I know you’re ‘wise’, but you don’t know the contemporary drinks the way I do.”

[lilith-emerson]

Sitting in the Witch’s Brew in a relatively dark corner, Lilith sipped her whiskey as she glanced around at the patrons of the bar, wondering just how many of them found themselves in the same predicament as her. Well, what better way to find out than to ask? At the worst, she’d get turned down. At best, she might make a new friend. Ordering a second glass of whiskey, the petite brunette made her way over to another lone individual, holding out the second glass as an offering. “If you don’t like whiskey, I can get you something different, but I thought maybe you could use some company?”

[lancenewcastle]

"I don't need company," he responded. It could be deduced from his pleasant tone of voice that he wasn't intending to be rude. The statement came across as matter-of-fact beneath the mellifluence of his voice, even. "If you'd like some company, there's no shame in just saying so." His candor was, quite obviously, at least in some part due to drunkenness: "Your vodka fucking sucks!" Lance shouted at the bartender. He calmed himself down before turning to the petite brunette. "Sorry about that," he said, his manner of speech becoming amiable again. "I should buy you the whiskey to make up for it. But their vodka tastes like crap today."

[lancenewcastle]

"Don't forget that you 'burn'," he reminded her wryly. "Well, that is more your style, isn't it? Always going against currents. I'd like for a less tumultuous wedding, though. I already know of your mad and all-consuming affections, Darcy. Please try to contain yourself," he quipped, consciously paraphrasing the lovestruck alternate Darcy. It occurred to him almost instantaneously that it probably wasn't the wisest idea to reference the other Darcy, however. He allowed himself a snicker at her rhetorical question. When wasn't he pretentious? "Well," he said to her, intentionally taking on an ostentatious tone lending his response some comedic effect, "pretentious means expressive of affected, unwarranted, or exaggerated importance, worth, or stature." But he couldn't suppress a hitch in his breath, then he lowered his voice. "So, to answer your question," he continued — their faces in proximity, his words sounding considerably more solemn — "just because I like to be grand, does not mean I always like to be pretentious. Do you understand?" He shouldn't do this, he shouldn't do this, he thought; but it was what she needed, he was convinced. (Truthfully, it was something he needed as well.) "You aren't easy to forget for anyone. Honest." He caressed the side of her face; she was going to know.... "I think of you... sometimes." He leaned in to kiss her, slowly.

[vamp-vik]

Viktor had finally decided on getting a job and settled on teaching at a University.  He had the knowledge for it at the very least, and was currently sitting in a cafe grading some papers.  It was a good way to spend the afternoon, and he found himself in a rather good mood until a passerby knocked into his table and his coffee ended up spilled all over his laptop.  Swearing in Russian, the vampire quickly moved to lift the laptop and get the liquid off, before looking for paper towels.  “Damn it…”  Looking at the other person, he paused. “Are you alright?”

[lancenewcastle]

“I’m alright,” Lance answered, quite taken aback by the question. If he had caused liquid to spill on something important around his family (and he never was so careless until he came to New Orleans), it was his instinct to expect censure. Might even be a slap or a punch if he committed bigger-scale errors or such — he’s a man, a strong young man, anyway; it should be “nothing” for him. “Is your laptop okay?” He tried not to seem as surprised by the other male’s kindness as he was, although he felt it was only appropriate to show concern. “Sorry I wasn’t looking. I can pay for any damages.”

[intoxfolklorex]

Simone hated this, the whole being forced to be married thing was not what she considered a good thing at all. She’d been married before and it hadn’t ended too well so Simone was the last person thinking about jumping for joy over it. She looked up when she felt someone staring at her, eyes narrowing in annoyance, “Can I help you?”

[lancenewcastle]

Lance hadn't even realized he was staring; his gaze was the classic drunken unfocused one. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said after a few seconds. "I didn't — this alcohol is a lot stronger than I expected." Day-drinking wasn't an admirable habit, but he could at least usually retain some degree of lucidity and eloquence when he resorted to it. "But, honestly, you seem like you need some." He gestured to his liquor bottle. "Bad day? Are you a vampire? Do you get drunk?"

[lancenewcastle]

Lance sent Melanie a text message, giving her directions as to the waffle house he’d chosen. He ordered something that he thought she’d both appreciate and find extravagant; just like with the impulse-purchase of a car he bought for her (the keys of which he still had in his pockets), he didn’t care. He had too much funds to spare or fret. She’d have to accept his gifts, he decided, and without strings.

Being remembered or forgotten often wasn’t a concern of his. What went down with Melanie and her alternate self upset him because, as one of the few he considered a genuine and dear friend, he happened to really and deeply care about their connection. He was glad she was back; although he wasn’t still a hundred percent sure, if he was being honest, that it truly was the Melanie of their universe (paranoia, he knows), he was going to greet her in the way he would in usual circumstances. He planned to take their plates and sneak up on her, delivering the food; he would then joke, “Stacks of New Orleans’ finest waffles, along with the friendship of the Newcastles’ finest son, all requiring only time and companionship in exchange. I’m no expert, Miss, but that’s what I would call a bargain.”

( closed starter for @witchesofnola​ )

[lancenewcastle]

"You're right. On paper, I should have encountered miniature food before this. But I've only heard of silk koozies, man-made premium rivers for tubing, and bejewelled tubes." He understood that she thought the client must've married for money, agreeing tacitly with good reason. "I don't know if fairies exist." He was about to trail off with the chef, but remembered he'd been tasked to deliver a written order for his (distinctly not-favorite) cousin's wedding. "Tell me, do you believe in vipers with legs who can speak fluent human language? I know two." He handed her the couple's extensive and pretty ridiculous list of orders.