overlydramaticgoat-blog

[overlydramaticgoat-blog]

Doing The Dirty Work || Goat King

{ @king-ofclowns }

It was a normal night at the court for Djali, serving drinks to Magicks and a few tolerable mundus that dared to brave the place. There were a couple of guys he had tossed out for making a ruckus and trying to start a fight, but even that wasn’t out of the ordinary in a bar. But the night turned from very normal to very far from normal in a short run to  grab some stock from the downstairs stockroom.

The light was off when he pushed open the door, but Djali just rolled his eyes and  tried to flip the switch, to no avail. Of course the damn light bulb was out. It took only a second to pull out his phone and turn on its flashlight function and he closed the door behind him, the sounds of the bar itself cut to silence immediately, and thumped down the stairs with a sigh. He hadn’t slept well the night before and close seemed much to far away in his opinion. He just wanted to get home and sleep. The stars had a different plan in store for him though as he cleared the bottom stair and promptly fell on his face. He had turned off his flashlight as he drew to the bottom of the stairs, planning on reaching aroung the corner and flipping on the hall’s light. That was when he tripped over something very large and very soft on the floor.

Djali knew what happened in the basement of the Court. Knew about the drug and its costs. He knew what happened to the people who crossed that damn sorcerer or her henchmen in the wrong way. But that didn’t stop him from nearly screaming when he flipped on the light to a dead body at his feet. His heart was in his throat, beating a million miles a minute and he was forzen, eyes wide. After a moment, he flew up the stairs, knocking people over as he ran through the building and not even knocking as he threw open the door to Clopin’s office. “We’ve got a problem. A big one.” His eyes were still blown wide with fear as they searched the room to meet with the security Clopin’s would bring.

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There was a solid 20 seconds where Djali was drinking none the wiser as Clopin’s eyes widened with realization. And then started, for lack of a better term, freaking the fuck out. And Djali realized the words that had come out of his mouth and what they had meant and the even a very thuroughly drunk Clopin has interpretted them correctly.

Djali stared at Clopin, eyes wide with dread and fear and he simply wanted to melt into the seat he was on. The words coming out of Clopin’s mouth were broken, slurred and making no sense, but Djali got enough of them to put together that Clopin did not approve of the fact that Djali was in love with him. Just as Djali had known would happen. Even though he had known, it still hurt like a knife in his chest. He felt like he was going to be sick and a tear fell from the gathered wetness in the bottom of his eye. He didn’t even try and interrupt Clopin, didn’t try and explain himself or anything. Just looked at the table in front of him.

Until there was a sudden silence. And then a crash. Had Clopin just- yes he had jsut fainted. Djali could only hope that it was from blacking out and he would not remember what Djlai had said in the morning. He drunkenly slide from the booth, checking Clopin’s breathing sloppily as another person- of fucking course, the Esmeralda look alike- came over to offer assistance. A phone call, some euros, a taxi cab ride, and one elevator ride later, Djali opened the door to a fancy hotel room and got Clopin onto the bed. He pulled off Clopin’s shoes and placed a blanket over him before curling up in the chair by the bed to go to sleep himself.

On tour  || The Paris Escape || Goat King

So many things went through his mind then. ‘Yes you can.’ Djali wanted to scream “You idiot!” But he didn’t. He wanted to cry “It’s you goddammit.” But his tears didn’t come. He wanted to take that goddamned face and kiss that stupid, drunk grin off his face. But he didn’t do that either. He pulled away from the touch he wanted to lean deeper into and looked away, afriad his eyes would show what he was really feeling.

“But i can’t. I never will. I can never have what I want. I’ve accepted that. It’s what happens when you love someone who’s blind to your love.” He looked back to him, the rim of tears and the hurt that was showing through his drunk eyes be damned. “You’re a damn blind fool.” And looking away once more, he buried himself in the bottle of tequila, it was nearing half empty at this point, but he was still feeling and fuck it if he was going to feel while watching Clopin fuck someon else beside him.

[overlydramaticgoat-blog]

So many things went through his mind then. ‘Yes you can.’ Djali wanted to scream “You idiot!” But he didn’t. He wanted to cry “It’s you goddammit.” But his tears didn’t come. He wanted to take that goddamned face and kiss that stupid, drunk grin off his face. But he didn’t do that either. He pulled away from the touch he wanted to lean deeper into and looked away, afriad his eyes would show what he was really feeling.

“But i can’t. I never will. I can never have what I want. I’ve accepted that. It’s what happens when you love someone who’s blind to your love.” He looked back to him, the rim of tears and the hurt that was showing through his drunk eyes be damned. “You’re a damn blind fool.” And looking away once more, he buried himself in the bottle of tequila, it was nearing half empty at this point, but he was still feeling and fuck it if he was going to feel while watching Clopin fuck someon else beside him.

On tour  || The Paris Escape || Goat King

Oh. He had seen her. And the way Clopin was looking at her. And it was like he was being grabbed around the heart and tugged towards the floor but his stomach was being pulled by a rope to the ceiling.

Tequila.

He took another huge drink as he watched Clopin’s face as he watched the woman’s movements. Just. Drink and don’t think. It was the only way he would make it through, just like every other time he went out woth Clopin. Why had he thought tonight would be any different?

Djali’s attention was brought back to the man beside him with his question. His eyes stayed on Clopin’s face, even when it turned to his own. “Don’t worry about me. I can’t have what I want, so it doesn’t matter.” The words came out, bitter and short, and almost entirely of their own accord. Of course he had been thinking them, but he never would have said it sober. Tequila, though. Tequila said he should, and he did.

[overlydramaticgoat-blog]

Oh. He had seen her. And the way Clopin was looking at her. And it was like he was being grabbed around the heart and tugged towards the floor but his stomach was being pulled by a rope to the ceiling.

Tequila.

He took another huge drink as he watched Clopin’s face as he watched the woman’s movements. Just. Drink and don’t think. It was the only way he would make it through, just like every other time he went out woth Clopin. Why had he thought tonight would be any different?

Djali’s attention was brought back to the man beside him with his question. His eyes stayed on Clopin’s face, even when it turned to his own. “Don’t worry about me. I can’t have what I want, so it doesn’t matter.” The words came out, bitter and short, and almost entirely of their own accord. Of course he had been thinking them, but he never would have said it sober. Tequila, though. Tequila said he should, and he did.

On tour  || The Paris Escape || Goat King

The bartender spoke and it was like paint sliding off a 3D painting. Fucking Clopin. He turned to the body pressed in behind him to see that it was very much not the man he was visiting Paris with but another man, simply waiting for his turn to order. Djali had no time to say anything because a bottle of liquor was flying towards his head. He caught it with ease and got a breath to yell at Clopin before a second was flying towards him. He caught that one too and shoved it under an arm as he dug in his pocket for some high value bills as Clopin was chugging some liquor of his own. With a sigh he tossed them over the bar onto the floor where the bartender had collapsed and steeled himself just in time for Clopin to catch himself on his shoulder. 

Once more, Djali took a breath to speak but was cut off as his mouth was filled with Clopin’s shirt instead of air. He took in a deep breath of Clopin’s smell, nearly as intoxicating as the alcohol he held but quickly shook his head. No. He couldn’t be overcome like that.

He pushed Clopin a bit from him and mumbled “Oh fuck off, Clops,” before uncapping the tequila and knocking it back. He needed to get drunk. He needed to be numb. To get rid of this yearning that was growing in his stomach and the feelings that were taking over his heart and mind with every touch. Right now he wasn’t drunk enough to not feel what he felt for Clopin, but too drunk to stop himself from doing something stupid; like flirting with him by describing a drink that was a metaphor for the man in front of him.

With a fair few inches of the liquor gone from the bottle, he finally pulled it from his lips, already feeling the first of the sips starting to coat his mind in numbness. “Let’s go before the man figures out it was all a fucking illusion. We’re already getting looks and I don’t wanna end up in jail for the night, thanks.” By the last word, the alcohol had a hold on him for sure. He looped an arm through Clopin’s- they both needed the support- and headed for the more shadowed parts of the club where there were men and women alike nearly naked on the stages.

[overlydramaticgoat-blog]

askthetic (these are beautiful!)

1: what color do you talk in?

2: what songs do you think people remember you by?

3: if you could take claim for any invention, which would it be?

4: radio or mp3?

5: what movie character would you choose to be your parent and why?

6: if people floated instead of walking, how far off the ground would you be?

7: choose a song to live off of.

8: would you rather have clouds for feet or suns for hands?

9: is your phone charged enough?

10: if you could choose one person to protect with your life, who would it be?

11: if you had to choose one person to be protected by, who would they be?

12: what book do you need to read?

13: who saved your life?

14: CDs or vinyl?

15: if you could only repeat words said by one person, who would you want to be echoing?

16: do you like feeling tall?

17: do you like wearing other people's shirts?

18: if you could breathe music, which artist would you choose to inhale and which would you choose to exhale?

19: would you rather have hair that changes color with emotion or get injured each time you're touched by the person you love?

20: what are the promises you've made to yourself?

21: if your family died, whose house would you go to for safety and reassurance?

22: what wouldn't you do to help a friend?

23: if you had to choose one music artist, actor, or author to become your mentor, who would it be?

24: who do you admire most in the world? why?

25: what are songs that make you want to become the sky?

26: would you rather be the night sky or the day sky?

26: would you rather be the sky or the earth?

27: would you rather be the earth or the moon?

28: would you rather be the moon or the sun?

29: if you had to change your name to something else, what would you change it to? why?

30: are your hands cold?

31: if you had to choose three articles of clothing to keep for the next three years of your life, what would they be?

32: monet or da vinci?

33: van gogh or michelangelo?

34: if you were a teacher, what would you assign to your class as their first project?

35: how do you pronounce 'crayon'?

36: have you ever wanted to be invisible?

37: have you ever wanted to be everywhere?

38: if you could change any one thing about your current surroundings, what would it be?

39: do you hear things in layers or all at once?

40: neon light or natural light?

41: if you could choose one instrument to master overnight, which would it be?

[overlydramaticgoat-blog]

The bartender spoke and it was like paint sliding off a 3D painting. Fucking Clopin. He turned to the body pressed in behind him to see that it was very much not the man he was visiting Paris with but another man, simply waiting for his turn to order. Djali had no time to say anything because a bottle of liquor was flying towards his head. He caught it with ease and got a breath to yell at Clopin before a second was flying towards him. He caught that one too and shoved it under an arm as he dug in his pocket for some high value bills as Clopin was chugging some liquor of his own. With a sigh he tossed them over the bar onto the floor where the bartender had collapsed and steeled himself just in time for Clopin to catch himself on his shoulder. 

Once more, Djali took a breath to speak but was cut off as his mouth was filled with Clopin’s shirt instead of air. He took in a deep breath of Clopin’s smell, nearly as intoxicating as the alcohol he held but quickly shook his head. No. He couldn’t be overcome like that.

He pushed Clopin a bit from him and mumbled “Oh fuck off, Clops,” before uncapping the tequila and knocking it back. He needed to get drunk. He needed to be numb. To get rid of this yearning that was growing in his stomach and the feelings that were taking over his heart and mind with every touch. Right now he wasn’t drunk enough to not feel what he felt for Clopin, but too drunk to stop himself from doing something stupid; like flirting with him by describing a drink that was a metaphor for the man in front of him.

With a fair few inches of the liquor gone from the bottle, he finally pulled it from his lips, already feeling the first of the sips starting to coat his mind in numbness. “Let’s go before the man figures out it was all a fucking illusion. We’re already getting looks and I don’t wanna end up in jail for the night, thanks.” By the last word, the alcohol had a hold on him for sure. He looped an arm through Clopin’s- they both needed the support- and headed for the more shadowed parts of the club where there were men and women alike nearly naked on the stages.

On tour  || The Paris Escape || Goat King

Clopin followed behind, chuckling. His mind swirled inside his head, feeling so light and buoyant. He wanted to cast that brain of his out to sea, let it get lost there in the storm of tonight. With more alcohol, he could do that– well. HE didn’t even need the alcohol. Just needed to decide to release. 

So here he was, deciding, right now– or he had decided five minutes ago. He brought his magic to the surface of his skin then, the illusion large and too strong actually– Djali would be enchanted too, as he disguised himself as another bartender and hopped over the bar onto the other side. He liked wearing the face of another person though. Loved the way it felt. 

“Djali, don’t bother–!” he laughed as Djali tried to follow the rules. “Catch–” he threw the bottle of tequila Djali’s way, then threw a bottle of vodka his way too. He snatched up rum, opened it there and took a few massive swallows. His illusion hovered around the bar; then wavered a little– momentarily. Just enough for the bartender to blink and go “Oi!” 

“Oh shut up, your head is on fire,” Clopin snarled his way. The bartender screamed and dropped to the ground like he’d had a stroke. 

Clopin climbed over the bar again. He was flipping drunk now. Very drunk. Nearly staggered and fell, but caught himself on Djali’s shoulder. “There’s the lad,” he laughed, pressed closer to him, then embraced him to his chest. His one hand gripped the back of Djali’s head, snugging it right up against his chest. The other, gripping the rum, guided the bottle to his mouth as he drank. 

[overlydramaticgoat-blog]

Every flavor to try. That there was. And there was only one flavor Djali wanted to try. And it wasn’t on the menu tonight. Just strip clubs, bars and dance clubs of every flavor under the sun.

Djali’s heart was still in his throat from Clopin’s oh-so-casual touch of Djali’s chin when he grabbed Clopin’s hand and pulled him a random direction. “I don’t care. As long as they have tequila.” It was what would get him drunk the fastest. What would erase these dumb feelings from his mind, if only for a night.

The Club they ended up in was one not all that different from the one they had come except with more people and less clothes. A strip club then. Djali didn’t even pay attention to the dancers on the pole- he only watched for their grace and beauty anyways- he just dropped Clopin’s hand and beelined for the bar. “Un seul coup de la meilleure tequila vous avez.” He said to the man behind the bar, trying to ignore the feeling of Clopin’s body pressed to his in the tight space of the building.

On tour  || The Paris Escape || Goat King

Clopin tugged Djali along, stumbling and laughing his way through the streets, as he an the boy got lost among the crowds. Every weekend late at night in Paris was like this– bodies dancing from one place to the next, every body an anonymous body, a nobody. He was the same. So was Djali. 

Or Djali was the only familiar thing– the only thing brightly drawn.

He was headed toward the clubs, resisting the urge with each step to cast more magic up and down these cobbled streets. He spun around abruptly and stopped outside a row of clubs. They may as well all be the same to him (anonymous, just like everyone else) but still he’d try to find one for Djali. The one that suited his friend the best. He knew what Djali wanted after all, had been obvious with that lustful whisper in his ear and the tantalizing brush of his chest against Clopin’s side. 

He wanted to fuck someone. Man or woman, he could decide right now.

Because Clopin would find him the perfect someone. Make the boy happy. 

“Take your pick, little goat,” he said and then playfully scuffed Djali’s chin with his finger. “There’s every flavor still to try.”

[overlydramaticgoat-blog]

Macarons II Esme & Djali

Esmeralda: Now go have fun!

Esmeralda: (unsent) Just make sure to come back.

Esmeralda: I'll ttyl!

Esmeralda: :)

Djali: :*

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Macarons II Esme & Djali

Esmeralda: Moi aussi.

Esmeralda: But we made it work for 12 years? So two more days ain't no thang chicken wing.

Esmeralda: I'll see you soon!

Djali: (unsent) That's why I miss you so much.

Djali: (unsent) its cause I dont wanna lose you for so long again

Djali: with macarons in tow

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Djali pulled them gently through the crowd, parting it quickly and easily in the shortest path to get to the door into the back of the Court. Or as some would say, ‘inner workings.’ The change was immediate, but probably not in the best of ways for the person he had in tow. There was shouting of orders of food and dancers talking loudly and gossiping with one another. But the storage room- holding a quite large mixture or miscellaneous things from props and old costumes to non perishable food good and toilet paper- was only a short distance away and he was able to beeline for it quickly. He heard a couple dancers laugh loudly and he looked back to give them- of course one was Nadya- the middle finger before slamming the door closed on all the noise of the rest of the building.

Overwhelmed || Zero & Djali

Zero saw the man reach for her, or at least start to. They appreciated that the movement was aborted, however. They weren’t sure exactly what he would have been met with. When things were like this, it was always more difficult to control. They struggled for a moment, trying their best to focus before they reached out and took his hand. “Yeah. Please, that’d be great.”

[overlydramaticgoat-blog]

Macarons II Esme & Djali

Esmeralda: Je t'aime

Djali: tu me manque

Djali: Even if its only been a day

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Macarons II Esme & Djali

Esmeralda: FRENCH

Esmeralda: I MISS SPEAKING FRENCH

Esmeralda: Do you know how many people speak french in this town like NONE

Djali: trust me.

Djali: i KNOW.

Djali: c'est le plus triste

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Macarons II Esme & Djali

Esmeralda: ....

Esmeralda: You are so lucky I'm hungover too.

Djali: It's not like my macaron would come from your macarons.

Djali: You think I'm in Paris and I'm not going to be buying myself a huge box as well?

Djali: vous ne devez pas me connaître du tout

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Macarons II Esme & Djali

Esmeralda: Yes.

Esmeralda: Yes it would be.

Djali: Therefore, to avoid death I have to get them.

Djali: LOGIC

Djali: while hungover

Djali: I deserve a macaron myself lol

[overlydramaticgoat-blog]

Macarons II Esme & Djali

Esmeralda: That said, do what you have to do get me those macarons. Close scrapes with death included.

Esmeralda: :D

Djali: well

Djali: not getting them /would/ be a death sentence, sooooo

[overlydramaticgoat-blog]

Macarons II Esme & Djali

Esmeralda: Buahah. True.

Esmeralda: Ummm, I'll just stick with: Don't die then?

Djali: Aye aye captain ;)

Djali: I should be able to do that ahahaha

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Macarons II Esme & Djali

Esmeralda: Glad to hear it. Stay safe! Don't do anything I would do!

Djali: (unsent) too late

Djali: But moooooom

Djali: that makes it boriiiing