tfln open post

[byanyname]

***

either leave a message (or set of muses) for one of my assholes, or request a message from one of them. choose messages from the classic source, from your own skull, or whatever you may please.

Comments

2/2

[onefellswoop]

Don't fucking say anything.

[ultimatenegative]

[...]

Point(s) of order:

First: If I didn't respond, you would continue to text me until I did respond, at which point you would castigate me for responding.

Second: what an odd thing to say at [...] half three in the morning.

Were you anyone else, I would venture to suggest you'd had a twinge of conscience. But of course, that would imply you have a conscience at all, and that it was being impacted by [...]

Your new toy?

Fuck right off.

Old age? Late night? Drink?

Anyhow.

It's a little late / early for razing. Didn't we establish no razing or raising, of families or hell, ought to occur past three a.m.? I believe that was not long after the stolen squad car, as a matter of fact.

[onefellswoop]

Go fuck yourself.

Lucky thing you know the man you’re dealing with, and there’s no need for entertaining any misconceptions.

I don’t want misconceptions. Regarding razings, raisings, or otherwise.

Enri’s kin are of no concern. They’re tangential, at most.

Also. Fuck you, Wilkes. One whole extra year’s ragged youth to your name and you come rolling in with this ‘old age’ bullshit. Piss off.

1/2

[ultimatenegative]

Tonight is a night for points of order, it would seem. I have not suggested I am not, myself, making the long, slow march into death.

Well.

I am, rather, sprinting. But were I not in a hurry to reach that particular finish line, it would not be inapt to suggest I, too, have grown or am growing old. I feel its approach. I embrace it.

My knees have begun making ominous noises, it's true. But also: I wear clothing that comes from stores that don't sell hoodies and six-packs of Hanes underwear. I eat my fiber, floss, and have my prostate examined. (You should have your pr

I clean my firearms weekly instead of "when they jam".

Very responsible, moi. Sensibly adult.

(Rin has a hand in all of this, it should be stated. For fairness.)

(Not in the prostate examination.)

Perhaps a misapplied supposition: to think my peers feel likewise decrepit. Rin was similarly perturbed by the implication (or indeed by any tangential commentary utilizing the word 'old'.) Perhaps age is a state of mind; Rin occupies eternal youth through sheer force of will.

And so do you, in an entirely different sense. (How old is Enri? 21? 22?) (Sidebar: have you asked and do you care?) (You didn't ask. You investigated him first, didn't you.) (Not a condemnation. No-one our age could possibly keep up with your rigors.)

2/2

[ultimatenegative]

You text.
Half three in the morning.
To ensure I did not mistake your sniping for fact, though I have known the man I'm dealing with for decades, and recognize his verbal suppressive fire.

Are you getting sentimental about your doggy

Are you getting attached to En

Fucking hell you've gotten attached [...] to a Pendleton

[...]

Unwise, Darius

[...]

Darius.

Be careful.

1/2

[onefellswoop]

Easy to embrace that rubbish when you're sprinting toward the end

Let me be the first to congratulate you on entering the world of semi-functional almost-sensible adults, Wilkes, and let me also say: It's about fucking time.

Not sure about the expedience of kicking off an oral cleanliness routine at this stage, but like they say, chase your bliss. You might make it to the ripe old age of forty-seven.

Too far?

Fuck it, I'm sor

[ ... ]

You always were an old man at heart. Makes sense you'd take on the guise first.

2/2

[onefellswoop]

Sen.

Worried about me?

As if I don't know what I

What the fuck do you think

[ ... ]

Leave the coddling to Rin.

[ultimatenegative]

Shan't.

I haven't mentioned your peculiar situation to them. (Yet.) Someone needs to coddle you in the meantime.

Right.

I'm evoking verbum rea. As you'll recall, on September 13, 2003, all parties involved in the non-fatal stabbing and (thankfully) similarly non-fatal arson, signed a cocktail napkin - which is as of this moment sitting in a safe deposit box in New Jersey. Need I remind you of the terms?

This is how we keep our chaos in check, Darius, my dear. One may at any time, once per year, demand absolute veracity from either of the other two signatories.

In other words: I'm cashing in my annual.

And I have two unused chits for the past twenty-four months, so you might as well resign yourself to the possibility of follow-up questions.

And if you refuse to answer, I'm legally permitted - nay, obliged! - to hunt you down and set your prick on fire.

[...]

Be honest now.

[...]

Have you got a crush on your doggy?

1/4

[onefellswoop]

[ ... ]

[ ... ]

You utter, you confirmed asshole.

Why the fuck did I agree to

You wouldn't

...Fucking of course you would

Don't you fucking 'my dear' me

[ ... ]

[ ... ]

First fucking point: chits uncashed do NOT roll over to the next year.

[ ... ]

I fail to see how this curbs any chaos. In fact, I would go so far as to suggest that you are DELIBERATELY kicking up chaos, and sowing shit.

Goddamnit Senan. Fucking Wilkes.

2/4

[onefellswoop]

Don’t fucking jump to conclusions; I’m responding.

3/4

[onefellswoop]

Fucking ‘crush,’ could you be more juve

[ Which is precisely when Enri’s picture arrives.

Which is precisely when Darius curses appreciative under his breath, and accidentally sends the unfinished text. ]

4/5

[onefellswoop]

…I don’t agree with your terminology. But speaking in its [ … ] approximate vicinity—

It isn’t

Fuck off, it

[ … ]

Enri has his appeal.

5/5

[onefellswoop]

Fuck off.

[ultimatenegative]

[ He knows this man. He knows this man very well, and.

And Darius. Does not get attached to his playthings.

But likewise, he never gets defensive this way about said playthings. He boasts, oh yes, and humiliates them, and parades them for his own entertainment. He doesn't text at three thirty in the morning to amend an earlier outburst about destroying their families.

Or admit -

Anything. Like this.

Senan sits back, an arm draped over the back of the sofa, and stares at the phone. It feels like it should be ominous.

But it's not. It's rather nice to see Darius maybe happy. (He tries not to think of this as closure.)

It's a moment before he replies. ]

You know, I believe that is precisely what I'm going to do. Fuck off for the night. It's late, and

[...]

And you, Darius, are going to go back to your dogg Enri and enjoy your evening.

[...]

Duly noted about the razing. I'll see you when you're back in town.

Goodnight, Dar you absolute cunt.

[onefellswoop]

[ That isn't usual.

Sen not persisting. Sen backing off prodding further or offering some snide remark. Sen— Retreating?

It isn't retreating. Darius doesn't want to think about precisely what it is, or how its newness coincides with... With the boy. With what Darius said about (what Darius admitted regarding) Enri.

There's half an urge to snarl, to turn this conversation back into familiar, biting territory. (To back away from this uneasy newness.) And at the same time, Darius very nearly appreciates Sen's (is it truly?) (it seems like) tact.

And, most importantly, there are those texts from Enri. And that photo from Enri. And the thought of a bed turning cold, a young man left alone, the minutes ticking down and Enri waiting, waiting.

Darius is walking back into the suite as he texts. ]

Enjoy your fucking off for the night. Try not to strain anything.

If you need anything

And don't forget to brush your teeth.

Sweet dreams, asshole.

Meanwhile...

[honeystuff]

come back to bed daddy

<3

[onefellswoop]

My Puppy. Did I wake you?

[honeystuff]

wish you had

the you-not-here did it.

come back and cuddle hole up with me. bed's still warm where you were.

[...]

puppy's still warm where you were, too ;)

[onefellswoop]

My poor boy. Daddy will be with you soon. Just stepped outside for a moment.

Save my spot, won't you?

1/3

[honeystuff]

always <3

2/3

[honeystuff]

[ Right, like that's the end of it.

Darius is getting a photo containing a (tastefully) alluring Enri looking absolutely inviting. ]

3/3

[honeystuff]

10 minutes and i'm coming after you though

;)

[onefellswoop]

I expect I won't last ten minutes alone after that shot.

Wretched distraction.

[ ... ]

My beautiful provocateur.

[honeystuff]

beautiful distraction, wretched provocateur

feels wretched anyhow

without daddy.

the bed's getting cold.

[...]

9 minutes.

[onefellswoop]

[ Enri's answer arrives after a minute or two: the bedroom door opening, Darius slipping through. Not pausing to take in the sight of Enri in the bed (dimly moonlit through the veiled and shuttered windows) (beautiful against the mess of bedding) (he's never liked the sight of any other in his bed so well) (he's never been pleased by the bare thought of joining anyone in bed, just to linger, just to rest), though he notes each detail, feels his blood hum with the pleasure of the scene. Slipping softly into bed beside the boy, to drift a kiss across Enri's cheek, to wrap his arms around the boy and draw in beside him wholly.

To whisper, pleased and without razor— ]

Daddy's here.

[ And, brushing one hand through Enri's hair, nudging the boy with his forehead— ]

Go to sleep, Puppy. Daddy's here.