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draino2024-09-07 10:00 am
saltburnmods) wrote in draino2024-09-07 10:00 am
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π πππ'π ππππππππ ππππ πππππππππ ππππ β£ SEPT TDM
SEPTEMBER 2024 TDM: LUGHNASADH
Welcome to SALTBURNT, a panfandom smut/thriller game based off the film Saltburn, where characters are encouraged to indulge their deepest desires. The money never runs out and the liquor never stops pouring, so you may as well indulge from the bounty. Of course, things are rarely what they seem, and the manor itself seems to have a consciousness of its own. Throw parties, trash the house, engage in youthful merriment, but remember β dangers come out at night, and no one, no matter how rich you are, is safe from demons lurking in the shadows.
Threads can be considered game canon, provided the players agree. Players can also start fresh upon acceptance into the game. In game characters can post to the TDM directly, using Β« NEW CHARACTER/IN GAMEΒ» in the header. There will be a spot below for new characters to link their toplevels for easy access. Alternatively, prompts on the Test Drive can be used for in game logs.
WELCOME TO SALTBURNT
It's the hangover more than the light streaming in through half drawn curtains that wakes you up, your brain rattling in your skull, your mouth dry and cottony, your stomach churning with whatever it is you drank last night. If self preservation is your strong suit, you might turn over in bed and see a few painkillers laid out for you on a silver dish, accompanied by a glass of water. If it isnβt, stay in bed and wallow β eventually a maid will be in to tear your curtains open, saying, "Breakfast is served," and scurrying out quietly, invisibly. Breakfast? Maybe itβs normal for you. Maybe it isnβt.
You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenβt you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?
EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.
πππ πππππ: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
ππππ ππππππππ: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
ππππ πππππππππππ: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
πππ ππππππ: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
ππππ π πππππππππ: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
πππππππ ππππ: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
πππ ππππππππππ: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
β momofuku's "cereal milk" β
β fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss β
β a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping β
β a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling β
β poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection β
If you want to leave, youβll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as heβs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereβs no reason why you canβt just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesnβt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canβt make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesnβt dissipate, though β this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?
Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, itβs all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.
"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."
You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenβt you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?
EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.
That said, these are world class chefs, so the gold is really in the menu:
THE EGGS
πππ πππππ: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
ππππ ππππππππ: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
ππππ πππππππππππ: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
πππ ππππππ: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
ππππ π πππππππππ: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
πππππππ ππππ: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
πππ ππππππππππ: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
THE SWEETS
β fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss β
β a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping β
β a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling β
β poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection β
If you want to leave, youβll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as heβs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereβs no reason why you canβt just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesnβt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canβt make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesnβt dissipate, though β this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?
Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, itβs all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.
"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."
ITSY BITSY TEENIE WEENIE
CONTENT WARNINGS: drugs, alcohol, nudity, potential for nsfw.
POOLSIDE PLAYLIST courtesy of Robin
It's an innocent enough, offhand suggestion from the mouth of one (1) DIARMUID about wanting to learn how to paint, and honestly, the house couldn't agree more: a party is necessary. As August winds down, it's important to go out with a bang, and what better way than through an explosive end of summer pool party? To say goodbye to the waning summer nights, the manor is throwing a pool party with an artistic neon twist. Per the growing complications of everyone's relationship status in this new age of bisexuality, polygamy, and pegging, glow-in-the-dark bracelets with matching solo cups have been set out with the appropriate labels βΒ TAKEN, SINGLE, OPEN, and IT'S COMPLICATED, depending on your interest. Lounge by the water in your cutest bikini or trunks or nothing at all and engage in some very relaxing full-body painting using the supplies provided β that is, the paint is supplied, though brushes and sponges are few and far between. Better just to use your own body to paint your masterpiece. Put yourself on display as a model by the pool, or engage in a brutally competitive game of chicken fights, wherein the loser loses their clothes and the winner gets to keep them.
Not your style? Sneak off somewhere more private like the twinkling gardens illuminated with multicolored tiki lamps, lakeside decorated with bio-luminescent rocks, or the (perfectly safe, wolfless, we promise) maze to indulge in your inner desires. You might find that certain colors glow beneath the moonlight and unlock desires youβve kept tightly under lock and key. It's hard not to feel impulsive or unrestrained under the full moon's light, with your body paint as armor. People might appear more attractive to you under this witching light like a magic spell cast β but really, you havenβt had any trouble with that, here. Have you?
If youβre thirsty, the house has tasked RICHIE, CARMY, and SANJI (dressed as cabana boys) with an extensive poolside drinks menu, since theyβve been so helpful with breakfast. Thanks, boys. Ask them for anything. In fact, ask them for everything. They're here to serve.
As the night closes out, turn your eyes heavenward for a spectacular fireworks show. Many apologies to those of you who suffer from PTSD; you can head inside for an early night and cover your ears with a pillow, but do be careful not to suffocate yourself, unless you're into that. The fireworks shimmer and shatter, and those watching closely might start to see hidden messages written in the stars for you, though is that your eyes playing tricks? Better ask that friend youβre snuggled up with. As anxiety weighs a little heavier on your heart, you might feel compelled to confess a few secrets on this last night of summer, big or small, something loving or not. Seek out that destructive habit, or take some steps toward healing. Let the fireworks drown out the noise.
POOLSIDE PLAYLIST courtesy of Robin
It's an innocent enough, offhand suggestion from the mouth of one (1) DIARMUID about wanting to learn how to paint, and honestly, the house couldn't agree more: a party is necessary. As August winds down, it's important to go out with a bang, and what better way than through an explosive end of summer pool party? To say goodbye to the waning summer nights, the manor is throwing a pool party with an artistic neon twist. Per the growing complications of everyone's relationship status in this new age of bisexuality, polygamy, and pegging, glow-in-the-dark bracelets with matching solo cups have been set out with the appropriate labels βΒ TAKEN, SINGLE, OPEN, and IT'S COMPLICATED, depending on your interest. Lounge by the water in your cutest bikini or trunks or nothing at all and engage in some very relaxing full-body painting using the supplies provided β that is, the paint is supplied, though brushes and sponges are few and far between. Better just to use your own body to paint your masterpiece. Put yourself on display as a model by the pool, or engage in a brutally competitive game of chicken fights, wherein the loser loses their clothes and the winner gets to keep them.
Not your style? Sneak off somewhere more private like the twinkling gardens illuminated with multicolored tiki lamps, lakeside decorated with bio-luminescent rocks, or the (perfectly safe, wolfless, we promise) maze to indulge in your inner desires. You might find that certain colors glow beneath the moonlight and unlock desires youβve kept tightly under lock and key. It's hard not to feel impulsive or unrestrained under the full moon's light, with your body paint as armor. People might appear more attractive to you under this witching light like a magic spell cast β but really, you havenβt had any trouble with that, here. Have you?
If youβre thirsty, the house has tasked RICHIE, CARMY, and SANJI (dressed as cabana boys) with an extensive poolside drinks menu, since theyβve been so helpful with breakfast. Thanks, boys. Ask them for anything. In fact, ask them for everything. They're here to serve.
As the night closes out, turn your eyes heavenward for a spectacular fireworks show. Many apologies to those of you who suffer from PTSD; you can head inside for an early night and cover your ears with a pillow, but do be careful not to suffocate yourself, unless you're into that. The fireworks shimmer and shatter, and those watching closely might start to see hidden messages written in the stars for you, though is that your eyes playing tricks? Better ask that friend youβre snuggled up with. As anxiety weighs a little heavier on your heart, you might feel compelled to confess a few secrets on this last night of summer, big or small, something loving or not. Seek out that destructive habit, or take some steps toward healing. Let the fireworks drown out the noise.
FRUITS OF LABOUR
CONTENT WARNINGS: body horror, gore, cannibalism.
Saying goodbye to summer means welcoming in the new season, and as August nights turn into September mornings, the landscape of the grounds changes from verdant greens to egg yolk yellow and sunburnt orange, a gradient of autumnal colors. To that end, a week long festival erects outside to enjoy the last of the year's good weather β a generous harvest bounty fills up tables and tables of ample displays, full of ripened fruits and fresh baked breads, baked potatoes roasted in the coals of a bonfire, sausages, wheels of cheese, marshmallows, cider and apple juice, tomato soup, apple and blackberry compote, rhubarb crumble, all richly decorated in sunset hues. Among the servings, anyone with a birthday in August or September will find themselves a individualized cake, perhaps with some motif to define them, otherwise just with the harvest decorations of gourds, leaves, wheat, and fruit. Alongside that, a new smaller maze has been made from hay bales on the lawn. During the day it's just a silly and fun maze, but at night it takes on a new form and characters can easily become lost and find themselves in a maze that seems to go on forever, with the ominous lowing of a bull somewhere in the distance. Luckily, everyone is released at daybreak, maybe a little traumatized, but all in one piece.
What would a festival be, without some games to indulge in? Around the celebratory grounds, there are four pumpkins painted gold, hidden around the festival. Anyone who finds one is entitled to a boon from your very generous hosts (join the race HERE). Hunting not to your tastes after the last few goose chases? No worries, there's plenty still to do β from apple bobbing, jumping over bonfires, throwing discus/shotput, horseshoes, and more, it's a festival jam packed with games and prizes to be won, from little jars of handmade jam from France, to stuffed chicken plushies, to tin cans with the labels ripped off, full of ... well, it's anyone's guess, really. Crack it open and find out!
In honor of the handfasting ceremony, characters are selected at random and tied together at the wrist, much to everyone's amusement. Once knotted, the ribbon will not give way under any physical or magical duress, meaning you'll be stuck together until the tie undoes on its own. It could be day, a night, two nights, or more, but it seems like the ribbon is waiting for something in particular βΒ a genuine heart to heart, maybe? Consummating the marriage? Hopefully you like the person you're tied to, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with your temporary spouse, in immediately close quarters.
At the end of the week, there's a final end of summer ceremony, wherein the vampire ARMAND is given special homage for being an especially adored guest, donned in floral regalia and ordained with crowns of flowers, much to his growing malcontent. In fact, he and all the vampires present in house seem to be given the regal treatment from the staff with less grand flower crowns of their own, honored at the head of the festival's final gluttonous table, lined with naked, giggling bodies covered in autumnal produce, sprouting mushrooms, blooming flowers, and distinctly meaty dishes β steak and kidney pie, blood sausage, pumpkins stuffed with zebra meat. It's only after you drink the wildflower tea and locally (Very, Locally) crafted beer that things start to feel a little off. The happy bodies used as serving platters look sometimes, between one blink and the next, like masticated corpses, the gourds and fruits set more deeply in the cornucopia their opened chest cavities make. Despite that, there's no real sense of death in the air β get a better look, and you might find the veins of the dead work more like the vines for the plants, giving them life.
The question becomes: which is the hallucination? The smiling faces or the blooming corpses?
Though hysteria rankles through the crowd the more people come to terms with the visions they're seeing, given the population at the head of the table, it's a fairly easy riddle to crack. Can vampires eat the cursed food? In short: yes, they can. Sorry we made you eat people again.
Saying goodbye to summer means welcoming in the new season, and as August nights turn into September mornings, the landscape of the grounds changes from verdant greens to egg yolk yellow and sunburnt orange, a gradient of autumnal colors. To that end, a week long festival erects outside to enjoy the last of the year's good weather β a generous harvest bounty fills up tables and tables of ample displays, full of ripened fruits and fresh baked breads, baked potatoes roasted in the coals of a bonfire, sausages, wheels of cheese, marshmallows, cider and apple juice, tomato soup, apple and blackberry compote, rhubarb crumble, all richly decorated in sunset hues. Among the servings, anyone with a birthday in August or September will find themselves a individualized cake, perhaps with some motif to define them, otherwise just with the harvest decorations of gourds, leaves, wheat, and fruit. Alongside that, a new smaller maze has been made from hay bales on the lawn. During the day it's just a silly and fun maze, but at night it takes on a new form and characters can easily become lost and find themselves in a maze that seems to go on forever, with the ominous lowing of a bull somewhere in the distance. Luckily, everyone is released at daybreak, maybe a little traumatized, but all in one piece.
What would a festival be, without some games to indulge in? Around the celebratory grounds, there are four pumpkins painted gold, hidden around the festival. Anyone who finds one is entitled to a boon from your very generous hosts (join the race HERE). Hunting not to your tastes after the last few goose chases? No worries, there's plenty still to do β from apple bobbing, jumping over bonfires, throwing discus/shotput, horseshoes, and more, it's a festival jam packed with games and prizes to be won, from little jars of handmade jam from France, to stuffed chicken plushies, to tin cans with the labels ripped off, full of ... well, it's anyone's guess, really. Crack it open and find out!
In honor of the handfasting ceremony, characters are selected at random and tied together at the wrist, much to everyone's amusement. Once knotted, the ribbon will not give way under any physical or magical duress, meaning you'll be stuck together until the tie undoes on its own. It could be day, a night, two nights, or more, but it seems like the ribbon is waiting for something in particular βΒ a genuine heart to heart, maybe? Consummating the marriage? Hopefully you like the person you're tied to, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with your temporary spouse, in immediately close quarters.
At the end of the week, there's a final end of summer ceremony, wherein the vampire ARMAND is given special homage for being an especially adored guest, donned in floral regalia and ordained with crowns of flowers, much to his growing malcontent. In fact, he and all the vampires present in house seem to be given the regal treatment from the staff with less grand flower crowns of their own, honored at the head of the festival's final gluttonous table, lined with naked, giggling bodies covered in autumnal produce, sprouting mushrooms, blooming flowers, and distinctly meaty dishes β steak and kidney pie, blood sausage, pumpkins stuffed with zebra meat. It's only after you drink the wildflower tea and locally (Very, Locally) crafted beer that things start to feel a little off. The happy bodies used as serving platters look sometimes, between one blink and the next, like masticated corpses, the gourds and fruits set more deeply in the cornucopia their opened chest cavities make. Despite that, there's no real sense of death in the air β get a better look, and you might find the veins of the dead work more like the vines for the plants, giving them life.
The question becomes: which is the hallucination? The smiling faces or the blooming corpses?
Though hysteria rankles through the crowd the more people come to terms with the visions they're seeing, given the population at the head of the table, it's a fairly easy riddle to crack. Can vampires eat the cursed food? In short: yes, they can. Sorry we made you eat people again.
DIRECTORY
no subject
[ it's a very belligerent response, complete with a roll of his eyes and a nudge to august's side.
this is nick's bread and butter after all, there's never been a bad situation that he can't blindly ignore in order to avoid grappling with the more complex reality behind it. nick doesn't have the capacity to deal with something as big as why or how they might have been ripped out of their own world and unceremoniously dumped into another, so he just--won't.
instead he just looks up at the night sky and frowns a fraction--not annoyed, just a little thoughtful, like he's trying to puzzle the sky itself out from squinting at it alone. ]
How far away do you think we are right now? Like, that's not even our sky. That's crazy.
no subject
Another world, another reality...there's really no telling how far away we are right now.
[his father had books of 'otherworlds', of physics and stories he could recite, but he doesn't think any of them will quite fit.]
What's the last thing you remember?
no subject
[ it's not exactly unlike nick to take benders to the extreme, but it's undeniable that this particular habit has become--worse, since everyone graduated and started filtering out across the world. without anything tangible to keep nick to a schedule, things have become...messy, to say the least.
what's the last thing he remembers? it's impossible to say. a haze, that could have been a bar or a club or maybe even his own apartment, that could have been hours or days or maybe even weeks, alone or with company, who's to say? it makes sense really, that nick hadn't recognised the oddities of the place on waking up, because it's really not that unusual for him to wake up in an unfamiliar bed surrounded by unfamiliar people.
but he doesn't want to say all that, because august hasn't really seen much of it, and strangely, nick doesn't want to expose himself like that right now. instead he just scuffs at the floor with his foot, keeping his eyes fixed skywards. ]
Usual stuff. I think Oli just left for another trip. You--I haven't heard from in a minute. Marco's off the grid, Tris is still...wherever the fuck in Europe. Pierce is like--fucking old apparently, who fucking knows what's going on. I don't know, man.
no subject
he always had a hard time getting through to him, or really, past the walls that Nick had built to avoid having anyone reach into his heart. he's no better, it's just that he doesn't use humor to brush everything off. he feels far away and close all at once. someone he hasn't seen in years, who probably saw him sooner than anyone else.
he reaches for Nick's hand to take into his own, bringing it up to kiss the back of it.]
I'm sorry. [for everything. hands back down to their sides again, but he doesn't let go.] You can tell me. What's going on with you?
no subject
he's wasting his life waiting for something to happen, but he just doesn't know what.Β
august's hand is warm in his. it always is, and it's nice enough that nick keeps hold of it. another beat of silence and he takes a step closer, enough to bump up shoulders again and lean in. another beat before he just leans in, huddles a little like it's cold out here. it's not, and nick has more effective ways to keep himself warm even if it were, but it's a good enough excuse. ]
Nothing at all. [ he laughs, but there isn't enough humour in it to sound like anything other than a huffed exhale. ] There hasn't been anything going on with me since you guys all flew the coop. I don't even remember the last week and a half. This isn't the first time I've woken up in a weird ass house. I don't think it's even the first time this week. I just...don't know, that's all.
no subject
he inhales, tries to remember all the details that he buried so deep over the past few years. he wants Nick's scent to linger on him, but knows that it won't. his magic coils around any innocence he wants to hold dear. he had left him behind, thought that the boys would take care of him, and they didn't.
he wants to ask what he means, what he's been doing that he doesn't remember the last week and a half. but he doesn't feel like he has a right to. how could he? it isn't like Nick is badgering him with questions.]
I should have called more. [but he's not looking for him to tell him it's okay.] You have me while I'm here. I'll make sure you don't get lost.
no subject
it's nice here though, out in the quiet of the garden where nick can breathe in the air and feel the grass. it's nicer still with august's hand warm in his and the pressure of a cheek against his head. nick is all frenetic energy, constantly moving, doing, talking, something β he's never good at staying still, but right now he actually wants to. ]
You better, this place gives me the spins. [ nick turns so that he can wrap his other arm around august's middle, keeping the hug loose, but he presses his face into august's shoulder and smothers it there. he takes a deep breath in, and--it's good, he's good. ] Do you have a room?
no subject
he knows if he hugs him back he won't want to let him go, instead hooking a finger through the closest belt loop he can grab at. the potential of urging Nick closer is there, he could nudge him in -- decides against it.]
Yeah, I got a room.
[he doesn't call the room his, because that would mean he chose it. he doesn't think that any of them really belong to anyone. they're cogs in a strange machine that he's going to do whatever he can to figure out. before all of that, though, he's aching to rewrite what he previously lost. he knows Nick is in a different page of their story, but being here is giving him a chance to turn the pages back, even if it means to heartbreak.]
Come back with me.
no subject
[ it isnβt tension exactly, that nick is trying to break, justβseriousness. thereβs a heaviness to his words that he wants to be rid of, lest he dwells too long on anything that weighs too much. nick is light, nick is easy, nick is fun. thatβs his role in the world and he likes it that way. so of course heβs quick to jump on the opportunity to waggle his eyebrows, lean back and bat eyelashes up at august. he stays right on that edge of playful and flirty, hands safe enough on augustβs waist that it could all be a teasing jokeβor it could not.
this is nickβs wheelhouse, after all. ]
Got room for two in that bed?
[ thereβs an easy familiarity when he dips his hands to hook into augustβs pockets, tugging forward just a little β though it results more in nickβs half-step forward than it does to move august. the smirking kiss that nick presses to his cheek, the lilt in his voiceβstill that edge, playful or flirty or somewhere in between. the truth is, if he thought he could get away with it heβd probably post up in augustβs room permanently, but maybe heβll see what he can do about pushing his way into the adjoining one. either way, heβs all too happy to make his way to the house now, half-dragging august along and taking his steps backwards, trusting august to direct him where they need to go. ]
no subject
Always.
[he tries to be light, to return the flirtatious tone that is so easily handed out to him. even puts a little pep in his step to take the lead, wrapping an arm around Nick's shoulder to pull him in as they walk to place a chaste kiss to his head. things used to be like this. thoughtless acts of affection, no second thought necessary, done because they cared about each other and that's all that it was.
if he has to retrace his steps and put on a different face for a night with him, he will. he knows it would be unfair of him to pile everything on at once, and he doesn't even know if he wants to do that. he can sense that Nick doesn't want to -- or can't -- talk about what he'd like to talk about.
he gets them back to his room with only one wrong (and quickly corrected) turn, because of course he does. bed's been remade already since he's been gone. nothing is personalized, it may as well be a hotel room.]
All yours. [said while he shrugs off his jacket, hangs it up.] Maybe I'll get some real sleep tonight.
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his first move on walking in the room is an expected poke around, curiosity (nosiness) just too tempting to prevent himself from opening a few drawers, peeking in the wardrobe. they haven't been here all that long though, and august isn't one to covet sentimentality at the best of times, so he finds about as much as he was expecting--nothing. ]
I think I can help with that.
[ it looks an awful lot like nick's room, minus the minor chaos that he has already managed to wreak on his space even in the limited time available to them, and he's quick to make his way over to the bed, toe off his shoes and spread himself out comfortably. already, nick is demanding a space within august's. any other option was inconceivable. ]
You know, I know we're like Team No Kidnapping, but man, I've got to hand it to them, these beds are nice.
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I still think my bed at my parent's trumps them.
[he'll take advantage of what he can. he crawls lazily, hands and knees making the mattress dip, into Nick's space. limbs find themselves beside his body as he holds himself above him. the rosary around his neck finally makes an appearance, slipping out of his shirt and threatening to brush up against Nick's nose. more soft glances, from his eyes to lips and neck to eyes again. no one receives as much honest love from August as Nick does, and while he holds his gaze he thinks about kissing him but doesn't, content in suspending them in the moment.]
Hi.
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it's easy enough from there to bump his nose into august's chin, a light little touch almost as gentle as the kiss. ]
Hey, you.
[ nick knows that it's selfish to be so pleased with this. circumstances are pretty dire, even if he'd rather not think about all that, and here he is smiling up at august like it's his birthday or something. but he can't really bring himself to do anything else right now, other than smile and smile. it's just--been a while, and nick has missed him a lot, and he's never quite willing to ask people to come back in case they tell him no, but he's wanted to see august for a while. so, he smiles, and he leans his head up to meet august in a kiss even if it means he has to crane his neck awkwardly far, and he's still smiling through that, too. he doesn't even really break it when he speaks again, just sort of murmurs against his lips quiet enough that august really has to listen to hear. ]
I missed you, you know.
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that kiss, so earnest. velvet whispers against lips; he can't help but smile back. if this is the second chance he gets, he's going to take it. hearing those words send waves of familiar emotions to the surface, ones that he'd done so well to bury. surely he only means that he missed him as a friend, and it doesn't mean anything even if it sounds like a secret he doesn't want anyone else to know.]
I missed you, too. [murmured back against the mouth August covets. he doesn't ask how much, he doesn't say how much, either. it feels like they're sharing something more without saying anything.] I'm going to keep you here for a while.
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[ it's all the invitation that nick needs to wind his arms around august's neck and pull him in for a kiss that's far less sweet and chaste. he's quick to lick into his mouth, to hike a leg up until it's hooked up around august's hip. he's still slow, still indulgent, there's nothing frantic about nick's movements. he's going to keep him here a while, is what august said. there's no need for nick to rush at all.
kissing like this, in a fancy ass bed with no thought to what might be coming tomorrow, it makes him feel sixteen again with a wistful kind of twist that makes him wonder just how long this can last. a few days, a week--never more, he's noticed of course. does he have to set a timer here too? but he doesn't want to think about that, so nick doesn't. instead nick just works on tugging down hard and insistent on august's neck until he can encourage the collapse of august's body down onto his own, closing the gap even as he breaks the kiss to suck in a breath of air and brush kisses into the skin of his cheek. ]
I'm not tired, I think I need wearing out. Know anyone that can help with that?
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he lets out a low chuckle, deep in his throat. the break allows him to nip at Nick's ear. he wants him here for hours, for days. yearns for him so badly that when he's finished with him, he won't be able to move from this spot.]
You're going to regret saying that.
[nimble fingers work the clasp, metal clinking together and zipper undone. he may be locked in place by Nick's leg, but his hand works fast. he kisses him again, intentionally sloppy so he can wet his hand with their combined spit. yes, he's going to keep him here a while. no, he doesn't need to rush. but slipping his hand under clothes to grip around Nick's member and give a few tantalizing tugs is all he can think about right now - he wants to make him beg for it.]
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[ they say it like a pledge -- and it is almost, in a way. nick could be sobbing and exhausted and broken and he'd still ask august for more. beg, probably, if he had to, just to get a little bit more from him. nick is so hungry, it's almost too intense. it's almost too much entirely, and god knows he probably shouldn't encourage a fire that burns as intensely as this one.
but. august's hand finds his zipper and nick's thoughts go blank, any rationality gone in favour of just thinking 'more, more more'. his breath is already hitching before a palm even finds him, and he moans low and breathy into august's mouth as his fingers find nick's cock. god, it's been weeks since he's seen august, maybe longer. he should be relishing this, enjoying every moment, but all he wants to do right now is tear off all their clothes, quite literally.
he's got some semblance of self-control--but only a little. enough that he starts fumbling for buttons when he wants to rip them open, pushing at his and august's waistbands one after the other, trying to wiggle them down without sacrificing any of the contact they're sharing. ]
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fist full of his cock, he's pumping him a bit faster with each stroke, then slowing the pace down. their spit lubed his hand well; only slick wet sounds and their heavy breaths filling the air. he doesn't want to let him go, even as Nick pushes at their waistbands and has their clothes inching down. more clashing of lips, he's slowing down.]
Fuck. Hold on - hold on.
[the only time he swears is in the bedroom, loosened up and warmed with sex on the menu. they can't get very far if August keeps him pinned, so he pulls away just long enough to discard his clothes and get Nick out of his. back on top of him, skin to skin, his mouth with sensual kisses against his neck as one hand is back to where he wants it to be: working his dick while his own aches to be touched.]
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but it was the right choice, clearly, because the second they're naked and nick can feel him everywhere he gasps like a shock, arching up his back to try and grab up as much of that contact as possible. august runs hot, he always has done, but it's never been a problem for nick who can just run a little cooler to match. they fit, they fit, in all the ways that mean anything, and the skin just below august's ear fits perfectly between nick's teeth as he hitches both his legs up around august's waist now, grinds up into him slow and full of intent. ]
Gus. [ nick pants like a whisper and a prayer, right up against his ear, sighs satisfied and wanting and whispers again. ] August, please, don't make me wait.
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he's grinding into him and August is returning the favor, both with his hand and body. thumb slides over the head of his dick, sticky with precum. he wants him to be messy because of him, wants him slathered in everything that August is. tongue licks up along his neck, teeth nip into jawline.]
Say it again.
[but he's already rising up to look down at him for a fuller view, palm planted on the mattress, seeing the glow of sweat and rise and fall of Nick's chest. the air around them feels electric with magic, the lights buzzing as though they're about to burst. he's looking at Nick with so much hunger it's sinful.]
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his hips jerk up into august's hand, no shame at all in the movements as he chases the friction of august's fingers wrapped around him. he just wants everything so much, even when the wants are at odds with each other. wants august's eyes on him but has the urge to drag him back down into another kiss at the same time, wants august to keep his palm sliding against nick's cock but wants august's fingers stuffed inside of him, wants august to tear him apart piece by piece and hold him together all at once. ]
August.
[ but that is easy. august's name falls from his lips as easily as breathing, and he drops his arms back onto the bed, goes slack against the mattress, stretching out underneath august's gaze and relishing it. it's intoxicating, if he could keep that gaze on him forever he just might, but for now he just wets his lips, swallows, tilts his head back to bare his throat for august. ]
Do you have any idea what I'd do for you?
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a world of wanting blooming in his chest, warming his insides when Nick says his name again. yeah, that'll do it. his lips part and his breaths become more shallow, and as any beast would strike, he does, mouth and teeth dragging along his neck once more. Nick's opening himself up only for him, leaving himself vulnerable. he loves him here, loves the pulse he feels under his tongue and throb in his palm.
truthfully? he doesn't know what Nick would do. he knows his limits, knows just about everything else, but the question gives him pause in his heady actions to pull away again, eyes glazed with lust.]
Tell me.
[would this moment allow for more than only lust, though? would he tell him more than he's ever told him here, naked with his cock in August's hand? maybe not with it in his hand, he decides. what can he get out of him by other means?
he releases his member, sucks two of his fingers into his mouth and savors the taste, making eye contact as he does so. his hand his brought back down again, one spit-slicked finger teasing at Nick's entrance before sliding inside.]
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nick's eyes flutter closed and open again just as quickly, because he's not willing to break that gaze even as something big and intense swells in his chest. what would he do for august, exactly? the answer would probably scare both of them. ]
Anything.
[ it's maybe something of a cop out but it's also only the start, there's clearly more brewing. nick deliberately tries to still himself a little more, to stop himself from chasing sensation and moaning his way out of a real answer. he wants august to know, after all. he wouldn't have said it if he didn't. ]
Tell me to stay in this bed forever, I'll never leave. You need magic? You have mine. [ promises, whispered, making them closer to oaths, and he doesn't break the gaze. it's too much, probably, nick knows he can be sometimes. he's--intense, sometimes, but then so is august. maybe it isn't offputting. maybe more words spill out of his mouth anyway, even if they're terrifying, because the ball is already rolling now and some oaths simply demand to be pledged out loud. ] I'd cut out my heart if you needed it.
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words are only words, but he's spilling what becomes vows while August's magic buzzes and wraps around them, seducing in its eerie touch. the floors rumble and the bed nearly shakes, vibrations sent up through the mattress. he's high off the thrill of having him here, and maybe it's wrong that he's losing control, but he wants to be burned onto him permanently. his fingers go deeper, deeper, stretching to his knuckles. he has to be ready, because as much he wants to thrust himself inside of him, he doesn't want him to hurt. not yet, not like that. he steals another kiss, one so hard it's bruising.]
Promise me, [his free hand grips into one of the pillows next to Nick's head, grabbing a fistful of plush fabric and down. the intensity is returned two-fold, eyes burning into his. breathless and needy.] promise me you'll give me your heart, and I'll give you mine.
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nick hadn't tried to pull magic into his words but he can feel that it's happened anyway, and maybe it would be smart to back down a little now before they say anything binding. because it's not nick's magic that's weaving into their words, nature that can be bent and bowed and broken without real repercussion. even broken things grow anew, a pact made with his magic isn't a guarantee, just a promise. august, though.
whatever he says next, he'll be held to it. even caught up in the moment nick knows the prickle against his skin and what it means. nick looks into august's eyes and knows that something is happening here. he's not an idiot.
it's just that he doesn't care. ]
Take it. [ nick stretches up suddenly, goes for a kiss, but it's not just that. nick takes august's lip between his teeth and bites, quick and sharp and hard enough to draw blood. if there was ever any doubt on whether nick knew exactly what he was doing, that would almost certainly put it to bed. ] It's yours.
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