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viktor: sure lmao viktor: [...] viktor: are u sure ur bodyguards arent going to come and fucking swing at me if we hang out?

Sarah 📲 Viktor

Sarah: hey Sarah: do you want to grab lunch or something? whack some yard gnomes? Sarah: i just…need to get out of the house for a bit lol

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viktor : ̗̀➛ junho

viktor: happy birthday sexy :) viktor: hope you eat all the fucking cake u desire

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"Frankly - there's better fruits I'd put in a fucking ice cream. Blueberry cobbler goes fucking - hard. Cherry, fucking... brambleberry. If I'm putting fruit in my shit, I want it tart. Strawberry's a fucking kids flavor." Viktor monologued - getting into it now, because they knew it bothered her. "Don't get me wrong - simple is fucking, nice if done well. Like some artisanal shit - I wouldn't dare add shit into gelato. But if it's a plain flavor - it needs shit added. It can't survive on it's own. Pistachio's also fucking - delightful." They snorted, "Sounding like my fucking - mom, right there. What are you, an ice cream simpleton?"

Sarah's jaw dropped in shock. "How dare you! It is not that bad, I swear! You just have to use it correctly as an ingredient!" she replied indignantly. At his continuation, she shrugged. "Well, that's fair enough. Real strawberry and...processed strawberry...are very different things." She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, you're one of those 'fill my ice cream with crazy shit' people." Sarah shook her head. "I will never understand you."

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"You're welcomed in my studio any time, Gracia," They mean it - wouldn't have said it if they hadn't; surprisingly sincere when it comes to their art. "Don't think it'll be your fucking - cup of tea, but you can come whenever." While there's some pieces that aren't Viktor's usual... style, most of their art's simply grotesque. Faces etched pain, reaching hands that'll never grasp what they're searching for - blood and gore, tributes to the renaissance era, when it was socially acceptable to paint a man's head being ripped off by his scorned lover. "I'm proud of you - you know how to count," Viktor teases, small grin - unserious, "And I'll be your first - unless you've got someone's etched somewhere I can't see? Fucking scandalous right there, Gracia. I'm hurt at just the fucking - thought. This is our special connection." They know their words hurt - can't help them from dispelling out of them, can see it plain on Gracia's face even though she tries to let it go unseen; the two of them always had that effect on others - intentional pain. "Am I? Is it fucking - juicy? What'd you write? Is it mean? It better be mean - you can't just write about my pretty face." Knows it's just a joke - but presses on anyways, curious to see what she'll say.

"As artistically inclined as you?" She giggles, amused by how confident he sounds. "Now I have to see some proof, Viktor, no that I mean I don't believe you, because I totally do. It's just that all this talk has me curious," she jokes, trying and failing to suppress a smile. The way they pause, and the way their expression turns stony speaks volumes to Gracia, and she takes this a as clear hint that it's not something they particularly want to talk about. She nods at his words, a soft expression on her face. "If she's the first person you've tattooed her name on you, does that make me the second?" She's redirecting the topic back to something light and fun. All she hopes is that she hasn't bothered him. Gracia blinks at the straight forwardness of his words, it gives her a whiplash of sorts, not entirely sure if he's joking and just messing with her, or he's being completely honest. It makes her feel awful if his sister didn't actually like her, not that she expects everyone to like her, because that's just unrealistic; however, she tries to regain her cool by smiling and lightly pushing him, trying to ignore the first part of his sentence. She hopes the expression wasn't apparent on her face. "I do have a burn book," she jokes. "You're on the first page. Don't tell anyone though."

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Maybe in another life - Viktor and Cameron could've been friends; could've founded the dead sisters club, brothers in arms. Unfortunately - they only saw a coward in front of them, despite their own shortcomings. Viktor nodded, with a grim look; didn't mind indulging in this information if it was for their own advantage, for once. A new low - Natalya would be so proud of them. "A fucking - while," They started the car - started driving, speaking as a means to distract Cameron from the darkening road. "About - nine years, maybe? Maybe eight. She disappeared." Their grip tightened against the steering wheel, "I just - woke up one day and she was fucking... gone. Search parties - search dogs, fucking... swept every part of this god forsaken town. Dad was on the fucking TV - crying, no - sobbing, asking for her to come home. She was the better twin. They always loved her more. Not that I fucking - minded." The car turned down another road - farther from Low Point, further south - past Fog Gate, through Ashmore. "Nat was... the fucking, sun. Everything revolved around her - she didn't even have to try. She was a fucking bitch."

"You do?" Cameron asked, a little taken aback by the admission. Granted, he didn't really know Viktor all that well, barely even knew who Kat's friends were other than Vera, and it was horrible, but there was also something so comforting about being around someone who understands, even if his relationship with his younger sister had been shaky at best. Cam got inside the car, a heavy sigh escaping past his lips. "I'm sorry for your loss," he quietly said as he put on his seat belt. "How long ago was it? If you don't mind me asking."

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"Yeah? Maybe next time you'll give me a fucking - home tour. Pretend we're in Vogue, fucking... 73 questions and all." They walked for a few more minutes, block after block - before Viktor stopped at one of the corners, coming up to a building's door. The lights were still on inside, though all the windows were blocked off, only tell-tale a few cracks where the light shone through. "We're here - it's fucking, small and messy - be warned."

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It was a little exciting, admittedly - having Talon come to his studio, although it wasn’t because he was going to view Viktor’s art. They already knew they were talented - wouldn’t have kept doing art if they weren’t, too terribly vain for that. “Yeah - just a fucking, couple blocks. My apartment’s above my studio - got a good fucking deal for that. Rent both spaces.” Viktor didn’t bother mentioning that Florence was staying with them now - her in the very back of their mind. “Been there for a while.” Since their last sobriety stunt - as far as the rest of their family knew, Viktor was as clean as fucking soap.

“That’s solid,” Talon nodded, thinking about if he could see himself doing something like that in the future. “I live pretty close to here, maybe a ten minute walk,” he added, since me mostly walked everywhere. He had a car but he spent most of his time in Low Point so it just didn’t make sense for him to drive unless he actually left town. He finished his tacos before tossing the container into the bin they passed. 

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Every time they interacted, the two of them fell back into this like clockwork - bodies magnetic towards one another. Not that Viktor minded - not in the slightest, not with the murders kicking back up; this was the best form of stress relief. Their hands trailed down Iris' back, sliding into her pockets to cup her ass - pressing her against him. "Just like that," they murmured, one hand sliding back up to palm at her breast.

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Viktor almost fell back into the passenger side - not surprised by Iris’ actions, more turned on than anything - they should’ve known to expect this from her by now. They maneuvered the two of them - just slightly, so that they didn’t ruin her little show by toppling backwards. “Fuck -” Said through a small intake of breath - quiet, even for the parking lot - Viktor kept their eyes trained on her, unable to look away. “ - Yeah - you’d make a fucking - great stripper. Christ - come here.”

Iris’s lips couldn’t help but form a smirk at his words and there was a rush that came along with it. She loved to feel desired... wanted... and Viktor was feeding every bit of that right now. She would consider getting a job at Siren’s later, for now she had tunnel vision. Iris climbed into his lap, bringing her lips to his for just a second before letting them make their way down his neck, she wanted to tease him... drive him crazy. She started to grind into his lap, slowly as she felt him growing harder against her. 

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Viktor almost fell back into the passenger side - not surprised by Iris' actions, more turned on than anything - they should've known to expect this from her by now. They maneuvered the two of them - just slightly, so that they didn't ruin her little show by toppling backwards. "Fuck -" Said through a small intake of breath - quiet, even for the parking lot - Viktor kept their eyes trained on her, unable to look away. " - Yeah - you'd make a fucking - great stripper. Christ - come here."

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Viktor watched her work her magic, finishing what was left of their drink with a smirk, “Maybe you should get stabbed more often.” They joked, letting her pull them off the bar stool before taking lead, hand tightly clasping hers as they pushed through the small crowd of people and out the doors. “Gotta - move the fucking skeleton out of the way. Been parading it as -” Viktor didn’t finish the sentence, only opening the passenger side of their hearse and shoving the plastic skeleton into the back. “Unless you wanna fucking - give me a show here and now.” Another joke, though Viktor still glanced over at Iris, half-curious.

“I’ve been able to get my way far before I got stabbed,” Iris pointed out, with a small laugh. It’s just the easiest excuse right now because no one feels comfortable saying no. Letting him lead her, she followed him to his car unable to surpress a small laugh at the skeleton. “A show right here in front of my job, how inappropriate,” she giggled, before releasing his hand and pressing him up against the car. She adjusted herself so that she was facing away from him, her body pressed against his. Letting her body slowly sway down his, enjoying the way it felt to trace her ass between his thighs. 

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It was a little exciting, admittedly - having Talon come to his studio, although it wasn't because he was going to view Viktor's art. They already knew they were talented - wouldn't have kept doing art if they weren't, too terribly vain for that. "Yeah - just a fucking, couple blocks. My apartment's above my studio - got a good fucking deal for that. Rent both spaces." Viktor didn't bother mentioning that Florence was staying with them now - her in the very back of their mind. "Been there for a while." Since their last sobriety stunt - as far as the rest of their family knew, Viktor was as clean as fucking soap.

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“Been doing it since I was a teenager. Mostly do sculpting, though - which is just chipping away at some fucking - stone.” Their posture was fucked from the amount of years they’d spent hunching or twisting over a rock half-carved with whatever Viktor’d think of at the time. “Dunno,” They offered unhelpfully - grabbing their food after it was ready next, “I have a fucking - general idea right now. You wanna see it? My studio’s fucking - a few corners down.” And apartment.

“Hell yeah,” Talon nodded, with a small chuckle. In some ways he and Viktor were painfully different but they had one language that they both spoke fluently and this was why he normally found himself talking to people who were into art. He got up from the table and started to walk with him, noting how close his studio was to Talon’s apartment. “Do you live around here too?” he asked, mostly just to keep painting his mental picture of who he was. 

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"I could find other ways to be fucking - interesting. Maybe I'll get into petty crime." Though deep in their heart - they know there's only room for one pathetic petty criminal in town - and it certainly isn't them. Viktor's more subtle about their illegal activities - at least that's what he tells himself. "They're both fucking - benzos, Azra. Me and the fucking - mom down the street who mixes Ativan with wine coolers before driving to her kid's soccer games are one and the same, both mentally and spiritually." They pause, "I think it adds onto my fucking - charm, personally. People go fucking - insane for that one kid, the fucking - new Willy Wonka, or whatever. He'll never be Gene Wilder." Realistically - a skincare routine wouldn't be enough to fix the gauntness of their cheekbones, their darkened eyes. "I know some parts of you are natural," Viktor jokes, letting the way he checks her out be obvious; shameless as always. "I'm annoying 'cos I'm fucking - bored, entertain me and maybe I'll fucking - stop."

"Honest? Why drop the one thing that keeps you interesting?" She knows Viktor well enough to know he's anything but honest and that half of the crap that leaves his mouth is complete bullshit. It's why they get along so well, or at least Azra's version of getting along. "Yeah? Maybe it's time to make the switch to Xanax. And add in some skincare. Unless you like going for the dead inside look." Everyone in this town was fucked up in their own way. If it wasn't drugs, it was just some other absurd coping method. "I'm all natural, so I have no idea what you're talking about." Besides the nose job, of course. She reaches forward and hits his shoulder, pushing him back. "You're especially annoying today," she adds dryly, rolling her eyes.

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"Tell me about them," They were mostly curious, but a little bored all the same; everything bored them these days - but Jade's reactions gave them a sick little thrill, kept them eager. "Are you basing it - off of people in town? Kinda fucked. I'm into it - which one's your favorite?" If Viktor's instincts told them anything - the way Jade looked at him gave him enough reason to suspect they'd make a feature; which only excited them more.

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Viktor paused before easing back into their seat with an amused smirk. “Alright then.” They got comfortable - a leg thrown over the other, ankle balanced atop their knee, the back of their chair wedged between body and arm. “Any fucking - progress on your novel, yet? Or has our little murder town left you uninspired?”

Jade watched the way he sat, making a mental note to write down later. “I’m plenty inspired, but I’m mostly working on settings and characters right now. I feel like I’ve gotten a good idea of the area, I’m just creating my small town characters. Seeing who’s going to be important and who’s not exactly going to have much page time,” she explained, before taking another sip. She wasn’t sure how much into the book she should really say, considering there was one character that he was bound to recognize.

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From the moment they spoke - they regretted it; they regretted a lot of things with Aleyna. Taking up that stupid dare, never one to refuse easy money - going out with her for so long, developing feelings - or whatever was causing the crank in their chest to turn by itself, crushing what remained there after Natalya's disappearance - all of it. Everything that led to where Viktor was now, standing in front of Leyna - watching the expression on her face change from emotion to emotion in the span of a second. It wouldn't have been a big deal, if Viktor never brought it up, if they never spoke on it again. But Viktor had thought about it every night since - even though they went home with different people; it was supposed to be easy, carefree - if it'd been any other ex, Viktor would've felt fine, would be teasing the other right now. But they only felt a heavy weight bearing down on them - eyes falling away from her, unable to face the conflict they had just caused. Felt himself instantly wanting to apologize - but resisted it, offering only a small, grim smile; cold, no matter how hard they tried not to be. "Thanks," They reached out and took the record - careful not to touch her, because if they did - Viktor didn't know what they would've done. It would've been too much - would drive them over the edge. "No - this'll be... enough. Thanks again." Viktor stepped back - then around, in order to scoot pass Aleyna in the small aisle and walk towards the counter, eyes trained on the space around her; an attempt to avoid a gaze that wasn't even trying to meet his.

"Yeah! We do," Aleyna warmly said, excited for them, because it wasn't often that the vinyls people looked for were exactly what they had, but before she could turn to go look for it, she froze at the change in the air. Aleyna sometimes thought it was a curse how attuned she was when it came to others' tone, and she felt even more confused because it came from Vik. Dread washed over her, and for a moment, she felt like she had done something so, so wrong, but she was mostly left feeling confused as she listened to their words. On one hand, she hadn't been drunk that night at all. Maybe a little tipsy, but she'd never been a lightweight. The night had been hectic and dramatic in all the right ways, save for the sudden appearance of one ex, but she had been kissed by a couple of people and thoroughly enjoyed them all, and she figured they had kissed people too. Plus, it was a party, so it shouldn't be a big deal, but on the other hand, the kiss had been with Viktor so of course it meant something. Besides, doesn't saying it didn't mean shit mean that it did? Aleyna went from being taken aback to being confused to finally settling on something she hadn't really expected -- hurt -- all in the span of two seconds. She struggled, and probably failed to keep the expression on her face from showing everything she was feeling, but her mind was going a mile a minute, and she couldn't stop thinking about how it sounded like they regretted it. The thought made her feel... dirty, because she hadn't regretted the kiss at all. Still, she forced a smile on her lips anyway and nodded her head at them, not wanting them to think she was probably reading more into this than she should. "Right. It shouldn't have happened," Aleyna repeated, the words sounding hollow to her ears before she inhaled sharply and turned away from Viktor to busy herself finding that record. "Here you go," she said when she eventually found Half an Octopuss and handed it to them, though she was finding it hard to meet their eyes. "Did you still want me to look for the others?"

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"It's not your fault you're not as fucking - artistically inclined as I am." A jest - but Viktor doesn't believe most people are as artistically inclined - or talented in general - as himself, ego inflated beyond compare. They pause for a moment - talking about anything involving Natalya is off-limits, a topic they avoid more than the plague. "Just the one - think she'd be fucking appalled if I brought our last name into the picture." Even as the golden child, the apple of their parents' eyes - Viktor knew that Natalya never cared about being a Samuels, no sense of pride from their name. "Here," They tap their chest, right over their heart - eyes fixating on the sidewalk ahead of them, expression stonier than it was before. "She didn't like you," Because now the topic's too raw, and they need to retreat somewhere. "Thought you were too fucking - nice. Was wholly convinced you have a fucking - Burn Book somewhere, scribbling away everything you hated about people. Do you? Kinda hot - I'm into it."

Gracia laughs as they raise their own hand and traces her name across his wrist, a slight pink flush coloring her cheeks despite the ridiculousness of all of this. "I agree, it looks good. Hey! You just insulted my cursive handwriting! I'm sure it'll look better if I don't do it," she jokes. She looks up at him, nodding at his words, a hint of softness in her eyes. "Where did you get her initials tattooed?" she asks, hoping she's not overstepping a boundary there.

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"You liked it in bed the other night?" They feigned a sadness to their question, dramatizing a pout, "And you called me Mustang. Made me feel special." Viktor batted their eyelashes before giving away their theatrics with a sharp grin - it lacked warmth, but they'd never been a particularly warm person to begin with. Maybe he hadn't been held enough as a child. They stretched out as Jaz stood before following him to the room. "My dad's the fucking - town pastor, is that not enough reason alone? I can recite hymns on a fucking whim. When I was ten - I almost got fucking, exorcised." Granted - they were chanting Latin and crawling backwards down the pews, spitting out the mouthful of vegetable soup they'd drank moments prior. The whole works, except for the head-spinning. Viktor would've maybe exorcised himself too. "I'm the only one in my family who wasn't baptized - cos I bit the priest doing it."

"Don't ever call me that again," Jaziel said barking out a laugh and shaking his head in disproval. "I don't put anything past you, Viktor. You should know this by now." He grunted as Viktor reached for his sketchbook, but did nothing to stop them. Jaz wasn't to anal with unfinished projects, and that notebook had nothing more than potential ideas and forgotten tattoos he planned on getting himself or was merely bored and sketched out. "Alrighty, let's head into the room then." Jaz responded, closing the sketchbook and getting up. "I don't think that's exactly how it works, but if it's that simple I'm sure you already got a reserved spot in hell just for thinking about it. What's with the fascination? What'd the church do to you?"

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"Been doing it since I was a teenager. Mostly do sculpting, though - which is just chipping away at some fucking - stone." Their posture was fucked from the amount of years they'd spent hunching or twisting over a rock half-carved with whatever Viktor'd think of at the time. "Dunno," They offered unhelpfully - grabbing their food after it was ready next, "I have a fucking - general idea right now. You wanna see it? My studio's fucking - a few corners down." And apartment.

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They couldn’t help but snort at Talon’s obliviousness - it was interesting, sure, but not the sort of back shot Viktor’s interested in. “Four?” Viktor hadn’t room to talk - most of their friends also passed off as lovers, and those who hadn’t were straight men. They still had more than Talon, they thought - which was only a little surprising. Sure - he’s reserved, but he’s kind. Viktor’s Viktor. “It’s hard to fucking - describe. It’s clay on canvas - which is a fucking, pain, and a lotta fucking - carving. Just a buncha fucking - hands, right now.”

“That’s really one of the few art forms I don’t have much experience with. I had to do it a bit in college but it was just never what clicked for me. It’s really cool to see, though,” Talon said, before his food was at the window. He walked over to grab it before taking the same seat as before. “Do you know what you want the finished product to be when you start or do you just feel it through.” 

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Viktor watched her work her magic, finishing what was left of their drink with a smirk, "Maybe you should get stabbed more often." They joked, letting her pull them off the bar stool before taking lead, hand tightly clasping hers as they pushed through the small crowd of people and out the doors. "Gotta - move the fucking skeleton out of the way. Been parading it as -" Viktor didn't finish the sentence, only opening the passenger side of their hearse and shoving the plastic skeleton into the back. "Unless you wanna fucking - give me a show here and now." Another joke, though Viktor still glanced over at Iris, half-curious.

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“I don’t see anyone else lining up,” Viktor glanced around, spreading his arms in a silent see? “See - if I was bringing you home after a shift at Sirens - then I’d say I’m fucking spoiled. Knowing you’ve got a whole new fucking - audience of men waiting, but choosing me? Kinda fucking… into it.” They watched her for a moment before leaning across the bar - pulling the glass away from her lips only to press a hungry kiss to them, “When’s your shift over? Should fucking - go now. Night’s young.”

If Iris was being honest it was kind of a hot idea. It also felt like a next step that made sense to her. The thought was interrupted by his lips pressing against hers, something that for some reason always did it for her. “I’m supposed to be here another hour but... I suppose I could play the got stabbed card,” she giggled, before walking over to her coworker. It took her all of five minutes to collect her tips and practically pull Viktor from his stool. “I’m down for whatever, let’s go.”

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"I don't see anyone else lining up," Viktor glanced around, spreading his arms in a silent see? "See - if I was bringing you home after a shift at Sirens - then I'd say I'm fucking spoiled. Knowing you've got a whole new fucking - audience of men waiting, but choosing me? Kinda fucking... into it." They watched her for a moment before leaning across the bar - pulling the glass away from her lips only to press a hungry kiss to them, "When's your shift over? Should fucking - go now. Night's young."

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“Not nearly as much as you should,” They joked back - lowering their drink and instead balancing their chin in their hand, arm perched against the counter. If there was one thing - Viktor didn’t joke about things often; only sounded like they were - but usually? They meant the things they said. “I’m just fucking - waiting here for you to clock out. Waiting fucking - eons, actually. Think I’ve popped a new wrinkle.”

“What? You just assume that you showing up here means I’m going home with you?” Iris asked, with a playful smirk on her lips. “You get to drink for free and bring the bartender home but sure you’re not spoiled enough.” She rolled her eyes before grabbing his glass and taking a sip out of it. Maybe she would give him a little Siren’s inspired show tonight... see how fun it is.