#matthewbaudelaire

[duderosiers]

what's worse, what was imagined or the reality currently lived? jean-claude is still as there is so little visible reaction from matthew as a proverbial bomb is dropped, the last man standing amongst the piles of rubble. barbed words or tears would be easier to deal with than what can only be described as forced nonchalance, autopilot almost. he can't take his own words back, nor can he stop the hurt he too feels ; a break may be seen as drastic but, j.c doesn't know any other way to hammer home that this is serious.

an apology forms but never makes it out of his chest, trying to keep his cool now. each step is filled with lead, he will always wonder what matty meant to say and stopped himself from. there is nothing else, just silence, the vampire collecting the small bag of pills of the side (doesn't trust matty not to try and force them all down at once) and then reaching for the key placed haphazardly near them. long fingers tremble as jean-claude hooks off the spare key he gave to his boyfriend (it had to be earned back) for his apartment, thinks of all the things there that aren't his. it feels heavy in his pocket as he turns then, urgency rising at his own fissures begin to form.

there is still one more thing to do before letting go of the hand that pulled him from the endless ocean - cold lips press a kiss to a stubbled cheek, brief and lingering.

"a bientôt, mon petit goûter,"

jean-claude only allows himself to wail in anguish the moment he's on the other side of the door.

There it was and everything within Matthew exploded in an instant, Jean-Claude's words settled like fine dust in the aftermath and the gears that kept his body working clicked into place. Running on auto pilot, the conductor had left the engine room, a 'we will return soon' sign hung in the door outside, or maybe it said 'gone fishing.' Part of Matthew blanked and all the anger, all the anxiety, all the fear and the upset and sour feelings that had burnt a hole in his gut dissolved away in the blast. It left him with a huge resonating nothing. "Okay," he said, because what else was he supposed to say. He wasn't going to beg, he wasn't the type, maybe he should be, maybe if he hated himself less he could do it. "So we go on a break," mechanical words, echoing Jean-Claude. "I, uh," he turned his head to look away, to look at something, he doesn't know what, eventually his vision lands on the tote bag he'd brought for the useless things he'd bought in.

His thoughts go briefly to the pills on the counter, part of him wanted to take them just so he can make a show of getting rid of them; he could throw what was left of them into the sink and turn on the disposal to grind them away forever, he could throw them into the bin which was less anticlimactic but resulted in the same. He ended up doing neither and didn't even spare them a glance. "You know I.." teeth caught onto his lower lip pausing the words. It's dangerous to feel so empty, so numb, when he doesn't know what he's feeling he can't be sure of anything. His head dropped and he shook it all away, the unsaid words, with a sniff and quiet, "Nevermind."

[the--helen]

 Every heartache eats you, bite by bite. 

Status: Closed

Where: around the streets

When: ~4am

With: @matthewbaudelaire

He had come home angry very quickly after leaving, she wasn’t sure what exactly had caused the state and did not dare ask while she sat on the couch, drapes pulled over the windows, no lights shining aside from a scented candle that filled the room with the smell of sandalwood. He explained to her his latest research on the topic of their future, but no success, and more refusals to even have it considered. He needed to leave the city tonight, still having around 5 hours of darkness before the sun came up. He had explained it all then pressed fingers to the back of her neck, peppering kisses along her face and lips before dragging his teeth down her neck and embracing her small frame with his other hand to her side. Helen could feel his fingers moving along her skin, but not register it as her mind was going blank. When she came to a short while after he had left her with new small bruises where he had held her, the room’s air left cold caressing her naked skin. She bent down and took his boxers, her own in tatters. Another pair to throw away. At least he always bought her new things to substitute the old ones and she was showered with all kinds of beautiful clothes and jewelry.

An old phone was sitting on the dining table and she looked at it with confusion, knowing she should remember something important about it. But the fog was too deep and she felt an urgency to breathe fresh air. Her heart began to beat fast, knowing that the windows would be bolted shut and the door locked as it always was when he left her alone in his apartment. Sitting on the floor her breath started to get stuck in her throat and sweat started forming on her skin, the feel of it icy and painful, almost as if burning her skin. She pulled a T-shirt over her head and hoped this would help, hugging herself a bit, but the feeling of something crushing her wasn’t going away.

Helen sat as a statue for what could have been days or weeks, or years…or perhaps it had been not even an hour, mere minutes or seconds. She was not sure and could not be sure. As if a millennia later, she stood on her feet and went to get the phone, wishing to call him and ask him to come back home and hold her and kiss her and stay with her until she fell asleep. Holding the brick device in one hand she could rationalize just a tiny bit more than a moment ago and knew that she shouldn’t have it there… along with the keys. Keys to their apartment, they weren’t in Nashville anymore. With a start, trembling fingers pushed the key in the lock, almost breaking it in half but it was unlocked and she knew Alexander wouldn’t mind her leaving as long as she let him know where she was at all times, with whom she was. He had told her that before leaving, she remembered that.

Her feet were in flip-flops she didn’t remember putting on, but they sounded quite cheerful as she walked in otherwise mostly silent streets. The fresh air was like a lifeline and she took deep gulps of it as she walked aimlessly down mostly unfamiliar streets. Her eyes were wandering over everything around and concentrated on absolutely nothing as she subconsciously pulled the neck of the top to clean the residue of a red liquid. She wasn’t cold and she wasn’t hot. She was nothing, but also continued to feel like everything inside her was on fire.

Another corner to turn and she was utterly lost but instead of panicking she stopped and sat at the curb, elbows on her knees, eyes on the road in front of her. There were voices somewhere in the distant and some light inside the buildings around, but no real proof of life at this hour. At least not to her, not now. It was peaceful and she felt as if she could be the last one left in the world. It was a nice feeling for her, imagining that. Despite its sad undertones it was a nice thing.

Her pale eyes followed the silhouette moving on the other side of the street, unfocused. Her mind was still not fully cleared and she did not remember yet that she shouldn’t be out alone after… an hour. What was the hour? And perhaps she should have stayed put in front of her building as it was very possible whoever walked past could take her away and she would be sad, right? A sound between a chuckle and a sigh filled with disappointment escaped her, air through her nose. Her irises returned to the silhouette. She thought she said hello but she wasn’t sure. Maybe she asked where she was or not.

[pcllypockets]

Oliver Stark, Lucy Hale, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Nina Dobrev, Francois Arnau, Scott Speedman and Reilly Dolman manipulation ( please reblog or like if you use and do not steal or repost ) { @theobaudelaire @bashbaudelaire @laynebaudelaire @werewolfroman @asherbaudelaire @matthewbaudelaire @kaylabaudelaire }

[wolfontheloose]

|| Matthew & Ryden ||

Ryden had skipped the last few cooking club classes, what with going to Colombia, experiencing a plane crash and then Halloween stuff happening. This time though he was hell bent on attending. He had been feeding additional two mouths for a while now, including his own which was worth at least three and sticking to the same menu over and over again didn’t seem like a good idea for a growing baby who was now eating solids well and although still picky as toddlers tended to be, it was good to introduce her to diversity of food as early as possible. So, Ryden needed to learn and he learned best if someone showed him how then let him do it himself. The cooking class he’d been attending was stellar at it, surprisingly keeping the werewolf coming back. He usually lost interest very quick when it involved someone telling him what to do but he was invested into feeding his little family well and for that, he would suffer an occasional judgmental frown at a botched dish or a comment about his marinating skills that was supposed to be funny but all it did was piss the werewolf off.

This time though, they were working in pairs, and surprisingly he’d been buddied up with Roman’s oldest, who also attended these classes sometimes. They usually seem to be missing each other, the last time they met was when Roman was in need of help for building his deck. As they prepared to occupy their assigned cooking station, Ry took a quick glance at the injured hand the human was sporting and snorted. “Musta been a very good wank.” He chortled, not caring at all that a very respectable older lady next to them couldn’t miss his loud baritone even if she wanted to.

@matthewbaudelaire

[duderosiers]

it was just the two of them now, roman not looking him in the eye for reasons the vampire wasn't privy to. it was now, with the absence of his beloved's nervousness that j.c could get a real look at roman baudelaire. or joseph, an attempt there to clearly avoid a past that he didn't know about. all it would take was an idle touch but, j.c had a hard time dealing with matthew's trauma in his head - he didn't need his dads to. what he truly got from the werewolf sat across from him was the great aura of melancholy, and tiredness, the type that settled in your bones and made you weary of the world. as old as jean-claude was, it was something he had never experienced, always with the zest for life...for it would never end.

the question caught j.c off guard, leaning back a little, almost away. is he happy? the retort is instant, comes out before he can really mull the question over; "why don't you ask him yourself?"

truly, the events of roman's failings as a father aren't truly understood by the vampire who only has a fraction of an awareness about the baudelaire family and their particular brand of familial problems. "sorry," it follows after, just as quick. i said i would keep my tongue. "it's a loaded question," jean-claude looked down at his hands, covered in netting gloves, pulling the jumper of them as if they were cold. green eyes glanced over, seeing matthew still purchasing coffee, affection so ready in his gaze.

"he's trying to be. it's not easy, i don't think it comes natural to him, happy," j.c explains, voice low, fondness tinging his words. "he doesn't think he's worth it, and everyday he wakes up waiting for it all to fall out from under his feet. it's a work in progress, the 'h' word but, i think it'll be alright. i think he'll get there. i know he will," perhaps it isn't what roman wants to hear. perhaps it's what he needs to.

"don't tell him i said this,"

@werewolfroman

As Matthew interjected about coffee, Roman nodded as he reached into his billfold.  There wasn’t a whole lot there, some crumbled up ones and thankfully a five.  “Um, here I like to take care of it,” he commented as he pulled out the singles and the five to give to his son, hoping it was enough to cover the costs.  “May I please just have a small black coffee,” he requested.

There was a nervousness as his son stepped away. The last time he was stuck with a vampire was when he was a child in his parent’s closet watching something unfold before his young eyes.  “Um,” he looked down, not making eye contact with JC as he listened to the man discuss his talents when it came to painting.

“That’s nice, I have no such talents.”  He stated.  Eventually, he lifted his gaze and there was concern in his eyes as he looked over towards his son, making sure he was out of earshot.  “Can you uh,” the man did not know if it was appropriate to even ask this question.  But he needed to know.  “Is um, is he happy?”  Only information he received about Matthew was secondhand, usually from Corey.  Today though, he figured he could go to someone closer to the source.

@matthewbaudelaire

[asherbaudelaire]

Closed Starter for @matthewbaudelaire Where: Sunday Farmer's Market *** When Asher was a kid, Sunday mornings used to be his favorite. Mom would get up early and make a big breakfast for everyone, and the whole house would smell like pancakes and maple syrup. Some of his happiest childhood memories--few and far between as they tend to be--are of those Sunday mornings sat around the kitchen table with with his siblings; laughing over spilled orange juice or challenging his big brother to rock-paper-scissors over the last slice of bacon. Somehow Ash never lost. Looking back with the clarity of hindsight, he's fairly certain it didn't have anything to do with luck.

Sunday mornings aren't the same these days, but even still Asher insists upon clinging to some semblance of what they used to be. It's family tradition, after all, and they have so few of them left to hold onto. The hour is stupid early and he's braving a killer hangover as usual, padding around the outer edge of the farmer's market as he makes his way to the stall where Matt sells his ceramic creations; a brown carry-out bag from the Blue Frog Cafe clutched in one hand and two plastic containers of orange juice in the other. "Y'know, you could've taken up a hobby that starts at noon..." Asher grumbles, rounding the display to set the food and drinks down on the nearest clear surface before collapsing into one of the uncomfortable folding chairs along the back end of the stall. "I forgot the hashbrowns. Sorry. You got any aspirin?"

[siennabaudelaire]

Closed starter for @matthewbaudelaire

Sienna would do anything for her siblings, she always had and she always will. So she frequently tried to invite Matty over to her place whenever she had some free time from work. "Okay so listen you're not getting a home cooked meal because I don't have the energy for that. But I got us frozen pizza and your favorite candy bar to make up for it." Sienna said as she handed her older brother the candy. "And I may even be persuaded to let you pick out what we watch if you want."

[antiquecritique]

|| Matthew & Duncan ||

Even though he now had an actual employee in the store, Duncan still did all of the errands personally. Mostly because some errands were quite difficult to explain and give instructions for. Aside from restoring old furniture pieces, procuring misplaced or homeless art, retouching damaged paintings or completing rare sets of collector’s items, Duncan was quite good at finding and acquiring other things as well. As long as it was rare, in one way or another mystical and difficult to obtain, Duncan found it to be enough of a challenge to have him drawn out of his store in attempts to track it down. This may also sometimes include things that were somewhat beyond Duncan’s specialty, but not out of his reach as far as he could help it.

So, after a brief research on the infamous belladonna, or more commonly known as the deadly nightshade, which was the main ingredient of the item he now had in an inconspicuous paper bag like it were nothing more than some random groceries from a grocery store, Duncan made his way out of the night market, efficient and brief with his errand as always. The jar of the Sleeping Death, a type of poison whose recipe was almost lost and forgotten to most herbalists and poison makers, would soon find a buyer, already pre-ordered for purposes Duncan didn’t inquire about. After all, means to cause death were of little concern to one who’d already experienced his own.

However, on his way back he got sidetracked, which was quite rare since nothing could drag Duncan’s attention away unless he allowed it to. A face he knew had just stepped out of a shop further down the street Duncan had stepped on, a face he fancied he could see some features on that he could also recognize in himself. This wasn’t the first time Duncan had seen Matthew Baudelaire, a young man coming from a long line of an intricately branching family tree Duncan was intimately familiar with. There was once a very brief week in the past when Duncan had passed through Greywood, lingering only temporarily, when he’d stalked the Baudelaire family home without ever being detected and noticed a few children playing in the backyard, rambunctious and loud, which was typical of most little ones. The mop of unruly curls was as memorable then as it was now. The next time he’d found Matthew when he moved back to Greywood more permanently, Duncan had no problem matching that child’s face to its adult version. Now, it was well committed to memory.

However, what piqued Duncan’s interest even more was the man who'd followed after Matthew, coming out of the store behind him to continue whatever deceptively friendly chatter they’d engaged in before their transaction was done. Well, at least the man was trying to be friendly with Matthew, the guy a real schmoozer, one of those hustling street peddlers who’d talk to you like they were selling you fog even when all you’ve asked them was how they’ve been lately. Duncan knew that face too. He never forgot a face. It was a face that once saw Duncan’s crisp suit and eye-catching silver pocket watch chain and perceived a chance to lighten Duncan’s wallet for a few dollar bills. Needless to say, nothing the man had tried to sell him had managed to catch Duncan’s interest. After all, he had no need of a dealer of any kind, unless what they dealt with was a potential Rembrandt, a piece by Sheraton or a collection of an old volume set. But apparently, Matthew’s search did involve a dealer of exactly this sort, much to Duncan’s mild surprise. However, it wasn’t a smart choice to put this sort of trust onto this specific fellow and that Duncan was very well aware of. It took the old vampire only one conversation with the man to know that he was decidedly not the right person to do any ‘business’ with.

@matthewbaudelaire

[werewolfroman]

LOCATION: The University WHO: @matthewbaudelaire

Nearing the end of his shift, Roman had one room left to clean before could call it a night and head home to down a fifth of whiskey where he might be able to catch some shuteye.  With the large cart with cleaning supplies, the mop, broom and bucket filled with water the man entered the room to see a figure standing there.  “Sorry,” he mumbled under his breath.  “I thought everyone was done for the night,” he commented.  By this time in the evening, the rooms were supposed to be cleared out but he guessed someone was staying late.

The moment he caught a glimpse of the man, realisng it as his eldest son, he started to back up from the room.  “Sorry, I uh.  I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he quickly said, hanging his head down so they didn’t have to make eye contact.  “I uh, I can come back later.”  He offered, wanting Matthew to be comfortable, not sure where the boundaries were anymore when it came to his son.  Or maybe he never knew what they were, but he was at least trying to respect them.

[magicvet]

... to Matty.

@matthewbaudelaire

[the--helen]

@matthewbaudelaire

Walking into the Blue Frog Café, Helen held her head low, as usual, wearing her favorite long skirt, top and cardigan combination despite the sun outside. She had found that going out before sunset and coming home right when the sun was disappearing was the best compromise in the weeks when Alexander was home, allowing her to talk with people she knew and finish tasks she wanted to finish. Meanwhile he would sleep and once ready they would go for breakfast/dinner and spend the whole night together if he wanted that.

Another storm between them had passed now and he had given her a new gift with which to always make sure to know where she is. And now she pushed it around in her bag as she took her wallet out, another new gift where he would leave money for her. As she put it back inside and she waited for the coffee to be ready she let her eyes absentmindedly travel around the café before stopping on a rather familiar set of hair. As she took the cup she walked slowly over leaned on the free chair, not really able to summon a smile right now. "Hello!" she said quietly, a bit unsure if Matthew would be okay with her presence considering she had never reached out after Christmas to thank him for her unexpected present or to check on him like he had done once when he had after walked her home, which seemed like a decade ago.

[nicholasbaudelaire]

-

Matthews light and playgul jab, though unexpected, was greeted with a roar of laughter but no payback. Nicky would bide his time and catch his brother unaware... at least that was his plan. It was difficult to tell whether Nicky was even capable of maintaining motivation for the vengeful vendetta. However, the playful rustle of his already frizzy mane poked Nickys inner kid as he began planning when he could strike next.

"Ah, yes, I saw the family group chat!" Nick sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes dramatically. A year ago Nicky would have been pumped for his brother, and he still was, it's just that his glee for Matthew was tempered by jealousy. So, Nicky's lips pulled into a small smile.

"I'm happy for you bro. He's a quality guy, you know, for a fanger!" Again he was teasing, adding a little banter to disguise the feelings of envy he was struggling to dismiss.

Let his feelings of envy not misconstrue Nickys feelings of jealousy for dislike or anger. Nicky adored his elder brother, had always looked up to him, was loyal to Matthew to a fault, but there was that underlying green monster in Nicholas that always came out when he needed it the least. The wolf tapped his foot gently on the floor well, his hands instinctively heading to his pocket as though be could find a spliff and a lighter.

-

Bright blue eyes rolled dramatically as the wolf gave a humorous huff and began pulling his seat belt on. The blonde hair suited Matty, though Nicky would of course always prefer the natural dark colour, seeing as it was the norm.

"Yes mom!" Nick exhaled luxuriously as he pushed the passenger seat back, so he could stretch out his long legs. It was always nice to play passenger princess, Nick thought nonchalantly as the car pulled out of it's parking space. Matty didn't live far from Nicky, given they both lived in Descray, and walking to his brothers would not have taken Nick long. But with his car being stuck at Roman's getting fixed, Nick took the opportunity to wind down the window and stick his head out for a moment or two. As the wind rushed through Nick's wild curls, he closed his eyes, just for a moment, as he took in the smell of the air. Even without his supernatural sense of smell, Nicky could still enjoy the fresh air.

By the time Nick sat back against his seat, his pale cheeks had gone pink, and his curls were frizzy. Still, he was grinning from ear to ear like an oversized kid.

"So JC is responsible for the hair" Nick surmised with a devilish smirk. He was friends with JC, hell if things had been different, Nicky would have tried to jump his vampiric bones too. "Must be good in bed" he teased crudely.

[greywoodrpg]

𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕠𝕣 𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕦𝕡

matthew baudelaire is looking for his prior hook up. this connection is OPEN.

unnamed appears as though they are between twenty-five and thirty-five but are actually over twenty-five, they are a vampire, and are connected to matthew baudelaire as his prior hook up. he looks an awful lot like francois arnaud, and thinks they may look something similar to: no suggestions.

Matthew used to work at a vampire lounge selling his blood by the bite. You were one of his frequent clients. The attraction was immediate. You and Matthew arranged a time and place and from then on the relationship was no longer strictly business but also sexual. When you'd visit the vampire lounge for blood you would always request to be served by him and then later on you two would hook up. He has since stopped working at the vampire lounge and asked to stop hooking up as he is now in a relationship. You two are friends now and he even recommends alternate blood donors to you. 

This connection would not be for a ship, nor will one be promised or expected in the future. Your character can be male, female, trans or non-binary.

You DO need to contact @matthewbaudelaire prior to applying for this wanted connection.

[thebellamybarnesarchive]

Family Bonding || Matty&Bella

        The young woman was on the floor in front of Nicky’s rather large leather couch. Bella had yet to move in since their return from Manchester because it was much harder than she’d thought. Not even simply because Nicky needed time to tell his brother and his sister - maybe his Dad? - but because she had a lot of stuff. Most was already in storage, just because Bella was a compulsive shopper, but to fit the contents of her townhouse into Nicky’s loft wasn’t so simple, mostly because Bella had a whole room dedicated to clothing and make-up and Nicky had...a closet. Yes, it was a relatively large closet but it couldn’t fit every piece she wanted to keep with her. So Bella had moved enough clothing to cover her crashing there almost every night, and would rotate the pieces. The only real thing Matty could likely see that had changed about Nick’s place was that his fridge was more thoroughly stocked, leftovers in various containers for Nicky to take to work with dates on them so Nicky never grabbed anything that had expired.

        “Okay so I made us bloody popcorn which is just normal popcorn but I made spicey chili powder butter that looks like blood,” Bellamy beamed as she pointed to the large bowl of popcorn. “We also have some beef kebabs with a thickened raspberry sauce, which you have to try, it sounds weird but I promise it’s good,” she insisted further. “I also made us Bloody Mary Mocktails,” Bellamy grinned, quite proud of herself, all the savoury options before them. Obviously the woman had tried very hard...this was typically her downfall.

        Bella tried too hard, so hard it made people uncomfortable, and in this case Nicky had, obviously, sorted this out for Bella, when she’d said she was sad he wouldn’t be able to watch the show with her because of work he’d insisted Matty would love it, that he’d find it funny to watch with a real vampire and Nick knew Bella mostly watched these shows because they were either hot or funny, rarely because she felt they were quality cinema. Bella wasn’t quite sure how easy the convincing had been to get Matty to come over but Bella was glad he did, she really really wanted Matty and Layne to like her.

          Picking up one of the kebabs she dipped the end in the sauce, holding a hand out so it didn’t make a mess and took a bite, lipstick immediately ruined because despite the fact they were entirely alone and Bella seemed to be in comfortable pyjamas the woman still had on a full face of make-up - Bella not sure if Nicky had told Matty that Bella even slept in her make-up, Nick the only person to have ever seen her entirely void of it. “Disclosure though, I definitely talk a lot in shows, especially shows like this,” she told Matty as she held the kebab. “Because I’m going to both love it and think it’s the dumbest shit imaginable, so you can always tell me to be quiet.”

@matthewbaudelaire​

[yashicanandarchive]

Casino Royale || Yash&Matty

       Yashica was going to get as much use out of the dress she had bought for speed dating as she possibly could. Green satin fabric clinging to her form as she stood next to Matty in the lobby of the large building. It was not a date, she had no belief in that this time around, but they were going somewhere nice and so she intended to dress up for that, however Matthew decided to dress was up to him as he had no obligation to match her.

        “Should we get sparkling waters and head up to the witchy games?” Yash asked him since there were floor staff walking around with trays of various drinks, handing some out and taking orders. The benefit of coming to a casino was typically that you got free alcohol but Yashica figured if they were going to be practicing trust games even she should go into this sober. 

            There was something, however, she knew she should tell Matthew, about his father and what had happened in her home and as the night was about trust she didn’t want to go into any of the games and have the evening revealed to him in the worst possible way. “I did, sort of want to talk to you about your dad, he came by my place a few nights ago...,” Yashica rolled off.

@matthewbaudelaire​

[werewolfroman]

@matthewbaudelaire

- the iliad, book vi [insp.]