#ft. mm

[buriedwithit]

max, unaware as of yet to how deep seth's hooks are into him, accepts the affection he thinks he deserves. eagerly. like a dog that's been waiting at the door all night for its master to return. he relaxes further, eyes half-shut as the older man's fingers trace along his jaw, gentle and familiar. he doesn't get that often. not from anyone else. especially not from clients! "you're not... gonna take me off, right?" he asks, anxiety much less present in his tone. he can't afford to be useless, after all. he won't stand for it! erm, please? "i just need a little time to adjust, that's all." another exhale comes, sinking him back further against seth's chest. he won't say it, but he's never felt as comforted as he does now. that's probably not a good thing, either. but he can't help it. he was made, for a lack of a better word, to be used. seth has just brought in some desperately-needed love into the mix. whatever that means. as long as he feels it, he's more inclined to attach. peeking up at him, he adds, "...what do i owe you for it?" naturally, a warm hand finds a place on seth's thigh. he knows what he's good at, that's for sure.

He watches all of it come and go, all those feelings of anxiety and frustration and exhaustion all twitching across Max's face and throughout his body, and wonders if maybe this is when the prized doll decides he wants more out of life. It happens from time to time, an entertainer suddenly realizing that life is fleeting and they deserve more than whatever debasement they put themselves through for the paycheck, but Seth is pretty good at talking people down from ledges... keeping love and affection in his pocket like dog treats, tossing one out every so often to keep them at heel.

He offers one to Max now, caresses the side of his face and neck with a softness that, to a stranger, may feel a lot like the real thing. And to be fair, there IS love in the way Seth looks at Max, in the way his thumb traces and his fingers nestle; just a distorted, ugly love, the kind that grows like mold. "How about I skip a couple bookings for you, hm?" Seth asks then, his voice a murmur against Max's forehead after he presses a kiss there. "It's the least I can do for my favorite little firebrand, huh?"

[fatebinds]

starter for @godsunderfoot !!

"—oh, jesus, you startled me." not scared. he would never say scared. too much of a pussy word to be applied to him. "if i'm seeing people, i must be getting close to civilization, right?"

[buriedwithit]

starter for @ncvaxchen !!

"come on, just live a little. one time isn't going to kill you."

[fatebinds]

starter for @noirhistories ( for ari !! )

"you showed up dressed like that?" his dramatic tone seems completely out of place considering... he's just dressed normally, all things considered, but that's likely unsurprising. "you're never going to get any action that way. that is why you're here, isn't it?"

[fatebinds]

he swallows, slowly pulling his hand back once ari releases it. it still hurts a little where his fingers had dug into his flesh, and he can't help but reach up to feel along the sensitive spots. will he bruise? it's always been easy to do. half the time he's got seven or eight he has no recollection of getting. there's a joke sitting somewhere in his chest about it, but it doesn't seem to want to rise any further. he hopes he does. that shouldn't be strange, but it is. it feels a little different. he drops his hand back down to his side instead of thinking on it any further, already reaching for a towel to wipe down the counter. max's eyes stay stuck on ari, watching him slide from the stool. gone already? it's his own fault. he'd given him two heavy drinks and ari is just a little man—he can only have so much tolerance inside of his body. he's not going to admit that to anyone else, though. he was the one who drank it! finally, he unsticks his gaze and slides it down toward the money on the counter. he trades the towel, dumped on top, for the forty bucks to stick in his pocket. damn, that makes... 45 for the night, probably. "hey, you sure you're good to—?" but ari is already too far to hear him. seems like he's in a hurry. maybe he's about to puke and trying to save face—wouldn't that be amusing? he's sure he's good to drive. it's fine. he shouldn't even be thinking about it. "well, bye!" he calls, a little louder. he can project his voice when he wants to. "let me know about the sirens!"

[END.]

"good thing you don't need your hands to sing." dramatic as always. ari knows damn well that max will be fine - sore, maybe, and he's so fucking fair that maybe he'll bruise, but he'll be fine. and besides, it's not like the drinks are what he really cares about, and max can always use this as an excuse to skip work. for a moment, ari stares at max expectantly, as if waiting for another wrong move to give him excuse to pounce.

he doesn't feel bad about grabbing max, doesn't regret how hard his fingers are curled around max's wrist, but max's words still make something slick and oily spread through him, something heated that makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. he wants to blame it on the drinks, but knows that the cause is pure emotion. disgusting, really. unacceptable, and somehow the fact that it's max who's calling him out makes it worse.

"i should have." but he hadn't, and ari's gaze drops down to his hand on max's wrist as he drags the nail of his thumb across max's skin before letting go. "didn't realize i was getting so sloppy" or he's let his guard down too much, growing too comfortable with his nightly little drinking sessions. that has to be the reason why he's so unsettled by what max said, not poking any further at the feeling as he slides from his stool. digging in his wallet, he drops two twenties on the counter - never let it be said he doesn't tip. "time to call it. see you, max."

[buriedwithit]

starter for @drippiesfm !! ( for kyle )

"...i can't believe that actually made me laugh." he groans, rolling his eyes. "you should go pro, man. could probably make some big bucks doing it."

[fatebinds]

starter for @oh-the-hcrrcrs ( for ira !! )

"morning!" his cheerfulness is only outshined by how factually wrong the greeting is. he's not up before noon any day of the week. still, when has that ever stopped him? "did you happen to notice that your, uh—whatever this is," what, is he supposed to be an expert on plants, too? "looks like something crushed it." probably him, on his way over the fence.

[buriedwithit]

starter for @miju-khan !!

"stop moving so much. i'm trying to fucking sleep." yeah, he shouldn't be... he's got like an hour until he needs to work, max.

[fatebinds]

now that he's out of the chair—and out from underneath the artist—he starts to feel the drip of darkness recede. it's left a stain, but maybe if he goes and dabs a few dozen times ( give or take, who's really counting? ) he can wipe it clean. for the moment, he's a man of compartmentalization, shutting off the path to peril as best he can and tapping his phone to the little machine cleric brings out. thankfully, he seems to have enough of a balance to cover it. that isn't always the case, particularly as wishy-washy as employment goes. it's not like the city is paying him for gigs! "yeah, one-five-zero," he says, trying not to cringe a little at the idea of losing a good chunk of cheddar. worth it, though. his tattoo does look very nice and maybe, just maybe, there's even something worth Looking Into here. but not now. no, now he needs to go home and forget himself again—like he always does when something unexpected, perhaps even ugly, rears its head. tucking his phone back into his pocket, he spares another glance in cleric's direction, tips of his ears pink with something he would rather not name. is that... embarrassment? ugh, disgusting. it may even be something worse. "yeah, man," he says, trying to find his way back to his regularly scheduled programming. he isn't quite succeeding. at least it's not a squeak this time. "for sure. uh, see ya around. thanks for the ink."

[END.]

Well, well, well. Max's change in demeanour would've been interesting if Cleric remotely gave a fuck about the inner machinations of lesser men. Lesser animals forced to wear suits. He was usually one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but in this case, he would settle for whatever victory this meant he secured. He finished cleaning the tattoo - good enough, at least - and with a sharp pop of his neck, he stood up and went over to a space under the counter where the archaic old cash register heaved its weight on the surface of it.

"Sure do." Cleric said after a second of contemplation followed by another coin flip - he had half a mind, literally, to tell Max to piss off in German or Dutch or whatever other language Max thought it cute to criticise or make a joke about, but ultimately he did want Max's time, attention and money. Still not quite sure what the machine did in its entirety, but it wasn't necessarily his job to know, Cleric sat the whatever-it-was on the counter and gestured to Max to join him. "You know how to take care of tattoos, treat that one nicely and it'll heal well and look much better than it did before."

He slid a false smile to Max, leaning on the counter slightly. "That comes to 150 even. And if you're ever actually feeling adventurous, consider my offer." He rose his eyebrows faintly. "It's a special offer." He wasn't expecting Max to take it. He wasn't sure if Max was capable of taking it. But if he did, for whatever reason, then Cleric would abide by it. How he longed to cut into Max's flesh, pry the skin from itself. Leave the mark.

[fatebinds]

starter for @saltedearths !

"i thought you weren't the type to drink, doc. or are you just coming in to see lil ol' me? you know i have a phone, right?"

[buriedwithit]

starter for @ofruinations !! ( for vicky )

"man, i know it's crap. do you want to share it or not?"

[fatebinds]

starter for @saltedearths ( for dante )

"i've been waiting for forty-five minutes, doc. did you jerk off in the back or something?"

[fatebinds]

this isn't the first time he's driven someone away by behaving obnoxiously, but he does count this as a win—firstly, because the person he ended up bothering is part of the fbi, and secondly because it's very obvious that he's being underestimated. all according to plan. nobody suspects the court jester of killing the king; nobody thinks max is capable of anything at all. "yeah, good chat, man. see ya around," he calls after him, rolling his eyes once gael's back is officially turned. if these people knew how smart he could really be... well, that's their loss. by the time the warning hits, it'll be far too late to stop him.

Gael couldn't keep himself from hearing everything that Max was saying, but he had stopped listening long before the latter was done talking - literally nothing Max was saying was new, he could just tell. A loud groan escaped from his mouth and he rolled his eyes bodily while Max was in the middle of his "anti-establishment fuck the police" spiel.

"Gaaaah you're so boring." He replied with a laugh of his own now, barely waiting until Max was done. "No wonder you formed a band; at least now you have a mic to shout into so that people have to listen. You haven't even answered like half my questions." The agent put his hands on his hips and sighed, his chest expanding with the effort. Max was showboating; Gael could, too.

"On that note, no, I'm not gonna arrest you. You're a local and intellectual issue, not a federal one that I know of right now so you aren't worth my time or effort." He said. "Put your shitty vape away in public and get original material." Though this didn't mean a report wouldn't be written and submitted to the local authorities; irritation with him be damned, Max was their problem who Gael could see turning into his problem on the right - or wrong - day.

And he didn't have to put up with this anymore. The man clasped his hands together and turned to walk off, waving one of them dismissively for Max to see. "So! Your welcome, nothing you say is original, you don't listen well and your apology's been accepted. Good chat, have a nice day and stay out of trouble."

It had been a long time since Gael had lied that many times in such rapid succession.

[buriedwithit]

starter for @estsolcity !! ( for kalani )

"god, i have a fucking headache. pretty sure i've got mold in my bathroom." no, he's just late on his meds and irritated about it, but he's already been iced once today and he just couldn't take a second outfit change. "we should get out of here, and like... do something."

[jbaileyfansite]

Some Screencaps from the trailer of Fellow Travelers posted by Showtime [x]

[hearts401]

michael afton is prone to accidents. and hes also prone to being dumb and sticking his whole arm in fredbear's mouth