depraved.

But he did not understand the price. Mortals never do. They only see the prize, their heart's desire, their dream. indie oc | selective | nsfw mun & muse 18+.

[hawks-beacon]

I am the rocks on eternals shores, crash upon me and you shall be broken

En Sabah Nur (Apocalypse) - Xmen: The Animated Series Season 3 episode 10 (via hawks-beacon)

[milcnko]

variousmethodsofescaape:

“No, I get that,” Aleister remarks in regards to a change of scenery, and chuckles a little at the guy’s joke, though shyly. “Small town Nebraska, originally.” Right? Just look at him, of course he had to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible.

“But I’m living in New Orleans. Moved there a few years ago. It’s been an experience, anyway.” ‘Experience’ doesn’t really do the city justice, but he leaves it at that. Aleister feels like he never really knows what to say to strangers, so he buys himself some time by taking a measured swallow of his drink. “Oh, uh,” he gestures at said drink, “thanks for that, by the way. I’m Aleister. I didn’t catch your name?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of going to Nebraska.” He knows what small town life is like, though -- romanticized, and ultimately brutal. But, at least he’d managed at getting some form of laugh out of the other. He returns the polite chuckle with a smile of his own.

He’s only been to New Orleans once, and it was far too loud for his liking - ironic seeming he’s taken a shine to New York City, but he omits those details completely and nods in agreement at the other’s statement. The two fall into silence again, in which the blond takes the time to check his phone before Aleister’s voice snaps him back to the conversation at hand. “Well, je suis très heureux de faire votre connaissance, Aleister. Nice to meet you. I’m Laur, and I'm happy to buy you a drink, anytime.” His earlier polite smile blossoms into a grin that's reserved, almost shy. Laurentius isn't used to putting himself out there in situations that don't garner a paycheck ———— but any ambiguity as to whether or not he's actually flirting has hopefully dissipated now.

[milcnko]

variousmethodsofescaape:

Alright, he’s trying to figure out if he’s being hit on here. He’s used to guys– especially ones so tall they’re basically trees, like this motherfucker right here– being pretty turned off by his small stature, so it’s hard to tell. Either way, Aleister is not in the habit of turning down free alcohol. Or any alcohol at all, for that matter. 

“Work,” Aleister answers the man’s question. Drink in hand, he takes a couple swallows before continuing, reminding himself he’s perfectly capable of carrying on a conversation. Probably, “Uh, doing production for a band in the area. I’m not from here.” Though he guesses they kind of already established that part. “What about you? Didn’t exactly indicate you’re a regular.”

To be completely honest, Laur’s not entirely sure what he’s doing either or why -- he’s not, and never plans to be a regular of this bar, but it had been a welcome change of pace from stuffy charity benefits and illicit meetings at high-scale hotels, where every word was a puzzle; every game, a dance. If anything, he’s TIRED of being himself, && tired of the people he associates with - thankfully, Aleister seems to be nothing like the former or the latter.

“I’m not.” No sense in lying about it. He shrugs, takes a few gulps of his own drink and stares off into the distance. Laur’s nothing if not introspective. Probably. “Sometimes you just need a change in scenery, so here I am. I’m not from around here either.” It’s a joke, referencing to the accent he’s sporting around -- one of his best features, he likes to think. “But I’ve been in the area so long, they probably count me as a local anyway. Where are you from??”

[dracarysnoir]

Lincoln Campell - Many Heads, One Tale

[yourlookbookmen]

[milcnko]

lcvehues:

     had her PRIDE been an obstacle, lauren would have wished to break free of this moment of intimacy. she is thankful that hubris has yet to rear it’s ugly head & prove to be a nuisance, so as to grant herself the opportunity to indulge in the blessing of his touch. the trace of his digits along flesh has left a trail of warmth that leaves her in pleasant state. the woman must admit she did not know of how she yearned for such a gesture until it had been received  ———this is all TOO MUCH & somehow not enough ! within that moment, her own hand comes to rest gingerly upon his own. the appendage then shifts from behind her own neck & glides to the attire adorning his torso, tugging lightly in order to indicate that she would like him to bend down to her height.  two dainty hands rest along his jaw &, in all her dimpled glory, she smiles brilliantly. it falters. ❛ i know. i know you would. ❜ a pause.  ❛ i’m sorry. ❜

        & with every godforsaken fiber of his being, he KNOWS that this is a mistake, knows he should run as far and as fast as possible. his line of work doesn’t leave much room for FRIENDS, and even less for any more. he’s got priorities, he’s got goals && ambitions to achieve, and the road to success is paved with the mess he’ll be required to leave in his wake ; broken relationships, broken hearts, broken souls. if he’s not careful, she’ll be one of them, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t let steely blue hues flutter shut at the feeling of petite hands against the strong, clean lines of his jaw. instinctively, he sinks to her height & REGRET ! floods through his veins, icy and sharp as he pulls her closer, hands resting on & effectively engulfing the curves of her hips. ❛ vous avez rien à être désolé. ❜ he murmurs to her, forgetting that she may not have the extensive french vocaublary necessary. full lips brush, feather light against hers, almost hesitantly, as if requesting permission. 

[milcnko]

variousmethodsofescaape:

Right, of course. “Deer in headlights look” is probably a permanent fixture for Aleister, especially when he’s in an unfamiliar city. He could really do without all this traveling bullshit; it shoots his nerves all to hell, but alcohol helps.

Speaking of nerves and alcohol, he glances away and swallows another mouthful.

“Nah, I guess it isn’t.” He guesses he does kind of stand out, probably looking like gloom and doom in tight black jeans, black t-shirt, and black fake “leather” jacket. Aleister looks at the man again, really taking in his appearance this time. Not exactly used to being approached by his sort. Interesting. “Looks like it could be yours, though.”

Well, he’s not wrong. This specific place isn’t really Laur’s style -- dive bars don’t do much for his complexion, but they are some of the best places to relax after a long day at work, without running into too many familiar faces. The blond shrugs off the comment, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“Rien n'est impossible.”

He finishes off his first drink and waves the bartender over for another, gesturing towards Aleister in a way that would probably be subtle if Laurentius hadn’t meant for it to be seen, & feigns complete ignorance when two fresh drinks are slid their way. A few minutes of complete silence pass, giving the impression that Laur is either deep in thought or has lost interest in the conversation, & finally, he speaks, implying that it must’ve been the former. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you here, then??”

[milcnko]

variousmethodsofescaape:

At first it doesn’t even occur to Aleister that Blondie McFancy over here could be addressing him and so there’s a few seconds where he doesn’t respond, content to fiddle somewhat anxiously with his drink, fingers of the opposite hand drumming against the surface of the table.

It’s when the man remains that Aleister realizes he actually has been spoken to. He’s thankful for the couple drinks he has in him, or else this might be awkward on his own end. “Shit, is it that obvious,” he deadpans, eyebrows raised.

“Here I thought I was blending in.”

“A for effort, cheri, but no, not so much. You’ve still got that deer in headlights look about you.” The exact kind that Laur’s been trained to detect & hone in on -- it’s nobody’s fault, really. 

He’s not so perceptive of the anxious activity the other male’s exhibiting, but he does notice the drink and realizes that offering to buy him another is an easy in -- if he wants to flaunt his money around & completely freshen the ‘eau de sleazebag’ he seems to be wearing right now. Laur quickly decides against it and instead, shrugs and offers the other a small, sympathetic smile, lightyears different from the predatory grin he’d worn earlier. The name of the game in bars like these was adaptation.

“Not your scene??”

[milcnko]

@variousmethodsofescaape

& YOU POOR SOUL, he’s eyeing you from across the room, one brow quirked in something akin to AMUSEMENT. you’ve peaked his interest. maybe it’s your demeanor, your looks, or simply the thrill of the kill, but he’s on the move now, tailored suit fitting in all the right places, whitened teeth bared in a feline grin, sun-kissed skin complementing sandy blond hair. laurentius looks good. he knows it ; & likes to think it’s part of his, quote-unquote, ‘douchebag charm’. he speaks, lilt of a french accent present: “mon beau, you look LOST.”

[milcnko]

hxmanclay:

        As much as those kinds of games were his favorites, he wasn’t particularly amused. He played that a thousand times. He heard those words so many times he grew sick of them. It was not something that he couldn’t blame on the other, though. TIME was a funny thing. “TOO bad. You need to work harder if you want anyone to spend that much on drinks for you.”

      Laurentius, however, CRAVES the song and dance, needs it; it’s his bread and butter. & If the other will not deign to seduce him the way he enjoys, then no LOVE lost, right?? Still, he’ll lean back in his seat, coy grin never faltering as he takes a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. “Mon beau, if you believe I’m going to RIDE you at the table ---”

[lcvehues]

      ❛ oh, ❜ is all she utters, just prior to the completion of his thoughts. the girl both sounds & appears dumbfounded, as if the possibility that the other did not solely find her value in what she could provide, nor wished to do so, had not quite been a possibility.  perhaps that spoke volumes about her own self esteem. lauren desired to do an abundance for those she cared for. so much so that it was almost to a FAULT – adrift when ( what she deemed her only redeemable quality ) was not to be of use in that manner.  she studies his movements with care, optics mirroring his own. top lip shields the bottom & teeth sink. a nervous habit. ❛ i am trying, laur. i am trying to understand. to understand why … i don’t know. it’s no one’s problem but my own but  i just feel so useless. ❜ she looks up to him forlornly as if she will discover the answer within hues of blue. she is clearly no stranger to being vulnerable.

[milcnko]

   & he genuinely wishes he could offer her a solution, eyes near-frantically searching her own as she looks up at him with such hopelessness, such beautiful sadness, and his own pathetic little heart can’t help but ache for her, though he knows he’s in no place to feel sorry for ANYONE, not after all the lives he’s ruined.  ❛ ma colombe, you are anything but useless. you bring light to the places the sun is unable to reach.  ❜ how could the world allow someone as good as her be so crushed?? how could she be forced to associate with the monsters that lurked in the darkness such as himself?? long, nimble fingers move to smooth her hair away from delicate features, tucking brunette strands behind pale ears before resting at the nape of her neck.  ❛ if i could give you any answers that would help you, ❜ he begins, voice soft, gaze unwavering,  ❛ i would.  ❜ but in truth, he’s just as lost as her.

[milcnko]

but like why even is my fORmatting coming out weird

[milcnko]

lcvehues.

       illustrated upon her countenance is the look of a woman disheartened. her intent is not to GUILT him, she simply aims to be sincere. in fact, it’s just about the only way she knows how to be.  upon the breaking of eye contact, she seizes the opportunity to pose the question ( albeit in a matter-of-fact tone, as if already convinced of the response she will recieve ) that plagues her. just then, worry pools in her gut.   ❛ so, then. you don’t need me. ❜ quite frankly, she is not sure she wishes to receive an answer. if he is to continue to look at his phone, she would deem that a no. had he said yes but still not wished to receive her help, she would feel useless. what good is she, she thinks, when not aiding someone else ?

        ❛ merde, lauren, that’s not --  ❜   & now he’s bordering on hopeless exasperation, looking back up at her with the expression ever-present on his face. she’s become a soft spot for him, and a personal weakness to ONE is an advantage to another -- he should know. he resolves, however, to worry about that later and placing the phone on the table beside him, he stands, closing the distance between them in a few short steps.  ❛ stop. that’s not what i meant, and you know it. ❜  the blonde shifts his weight, drops his gaze to designer dress shoes, visibly uncomfortable.  ❛ i DO need you. i DO. what i DON’T need is for you to lose yourself as i have. so, by that logic, i need YOU, but not your help. ❜ he pauses, fiddles with his cuff link, unsure if he’s making sense. laur meets her eyes again, regrets it, but holds his stance, appearing firm.  ❛ comprenez-vous? ❜

[milcnko]

LCVEHUES.

    ❛ huh. men like you. ❜ she echoes. tone is steady all the while as her gaze bores into him. lauren can only view lids focused upon his device, but she refuses to concede defeat.   ❛ i only wouldn’t help you if you weren’t honest with me. and, if you just sit here and assume that i won’t, how can i  ? i mean – what do i have to do to make you understand ? laurentius. laurentius, god ! will you just LOOK at me ? ❜  her voice wobbles & wavers. she is not ashamed to cry.

      laurentius benjamin is many things: he is a liar, he is dishonest and values himself above all others, he is venomous at best and deadly at worst  -- but, contrary to popular belief, he is NOT heartless, and the waver in lauren’s voice causes a painful twinge in his chest, causing him to look up from the device, steely blue eyes meeting her own.  ❛ i don’t want your help, cherie. i don’t need it.  ❜ and the moment is over, as he looks back at the phone with an astounding amount of intent. he’s unsure of how to convey his confusion without sounding trite; why would she willingly help him??

[aquiverre-deactivated20211128]

         “oh— how convenient for you.”

[milcnko]

    “ —— maybe. ” he’ll concede. “ but it’s not much in lieu of the real thing. “ 

[romelzacarnes]

[aquiverre-deactivated20211128]

        “don’t tell me what i can or can’t do.”

[milcnko]

             he grins. “you weren’t telling me why you can’t. i had to make up my own story.”