ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

I moved! Making a fresh start as a side blog so that it might be easier to keep up activity than as an independent that I keep forgetting about. Same url as before.

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

With a long, drawn out sigh, the older man shook his head, carefully extricating himself from the bed during one of the points Montparnasse laid completely still and covered him more thoroughly with the blankets. It was the quiet moments almost more than the tantrums that betrayed to him that Montparnasse was still a child in a lot of ways--too many ways. A scared child, if he understood Montparnasse’s behavior correctly, and Claquesous understood fear.

Only a couple years older than his daughter.

A daughter that he was still very glad that neither Montparnasse nor anyone else in Patron Minette knew about. By some miracle. Or perhaps just no one cared. That was more likely.

Walking quickly so he might outpace his always-racing thoughts, Claquesous fetched a glass of water for when Montparnasse awoke enough for it, as well some of those god awful pre-packaged pastries he seemed to exist almost exclusively off of. How someone could survive on that shit was beyond him, but it seemed like the only thing the kid would eat without acting like he was being poisoned. He set both down on the nightstand and climbed back onto the bed. Now that he was able to position himself freely, he was to roll onto his side. Might as well get some rest of his own.

Kryptonite || OPEN

ventriloquedelombre:

Claquesous let out a deep sigh, first taking Montparnasse’s hands and forcibly stilling them so that he could do what the younger man had been trying so hard to and failing to do. Even though he moved slowly, delicately even, it was still only seconds before the sweater was off and Claquesous was cautiously working off his binder, as well.

“I thought I told  you to get rid of this one,” he grunted. “It’s too small for you now. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Truth be told, he was a little worried he might get hurt, too, trying to get it off of him. The moisture and chill made the already-tight material constrict like a vice. 

“S-s-s-sorry,” he bit out, letting himself sink toward the floor both so that gravity would help extricate him from that godawful thing crushing his ribcage and simply because keeping himself standing was taking too much effort anyway. Once he was free the sudden unrestricted breathing room left him in a fit of coughing, system shocked by actually having enough air so easily.

Even as he was still fighting to regulate his breathing with a few deep gasps he was fumbling for the bathrobe hung on the bathroom door, covering himself again still an instinctive priority even in an environment he knew to be safe. Even though he was on the floor now, letting Claquesous help him out of the rest of his clothes was easier, finally curling–otherwise naked beneath the robe–into a quaking ball against the older man’s chest.

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

Claquesous swallowed, leaned his head back, and stroked the long black locks that hung in greasy strings from Montparnasse’s head to distract himself from the closeness. It was still beyond him why exactly Montparnasse kept his hair that long--it was impractical, it had to tangle in things all the time, and in his opinion did nothing whatsoever to help him pass as unquestionably male in the street as well as was a rather distinctive look when people did recognize him as such. Then again, thinking about it, he realized that just maybe that was exactly why the kid did it: it made him stand out. A lot of things Montparnasse did, now that he was thinking about it, were cries for attention.

With a thick sigh, he gave himself up to the current situation. Everything was already in motion, for now, and he could not just throw him out on his ass in this state in nothing but a bathrobe. It was difficult not to be frustrated after this realization. What if this was all an elaborate case of attention-seeking, too?

Kryptonite || OPEN

ventriloquedelombre:

Claquesous let out a deep sigh, first taking Montparnasse’s hands and forcibly stilling them so that he could do what the younger man had been trying so hard to and failing to do. Even though he moved slowly, delicately even, it was still only seconds before the sweater was off and Claquesous was cautiously working off his binder, as well.

“I thought I told  you to get rid of this one,” he grunted. “It’s too small for you now. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Truth be told, he was a little worried he might get hurt, too, trying to get it off of him. The moisture and chill made the already-tight material constrict like a vice. 

“S-s-s-sorry,” he bit out, letting himself sink toward the floor both so that gravity would help extricate him from that godawful thing crushing his ribcage and simply because keeping himself standing was taking too much effort anyway. Once he was free the sudden unrestricted breathing room left him in a fit of coughing, system shocked by actually having enough air so easily.

Even as he was still fighting to regulate his breathing with a few deep gasps he was fumbling for the bathrobe hung on the bathroom door, covering himself again still an instinctive priority even in an environment he knew to be safe. Even though he was on the floor now, letting Claquesous help him out of the rest of his clothes was easier, finally curling–otherwise naked beneath the robe–into a quaking ball against the older man’s chest.

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

“And for the last time, I don’t ‘make’ him do anything.” Despite the slow, crisp enunciation and the restrained snarl hinted in his tone, there was an off-putting sort of calm in his stance, like a predator crouched and ready to strike or the moments of calm when watching the sky change to that sickening greenish hue right before a bad storm.

He cleared his throat. “It was very last-minute. I tried to get in touch through a phone at a petrol station, but it went to voicemail, and you should know by now I don’t leave messages. Montparnasse will be back in a couple of days at most.”

"Where is Montparnasse? You can't just steal him away in the middle of the night!"

“I didn’t ‘steal’ him if he came voluntarily,” the much older man stated sternly, squaring himself so he had his full height as well as his unreadable expression, masked even further by the ever-present sunglasses. “He didn’t have to come.”

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

“Get down from there before you break your neck,” Claquesous found himself saying in his dad voice. He added, checking the time on his phone for probably the hundredth time, “I’m not going to be the one that has to explain to your dad that I watched you kill yourself. Or worse, make yourself a quadriplegic who’ll need to be spoon fed for the next forty years.” 

❝ What’s your problem? ❞ @ask-darling-Eponine

“My problem.” It was a huffed statement rather than a returned question. His problem was that he was supposed to be meeting with his ex-wife to pick up Sabeen for the weekend. His problem was that he had specifically told everyone to leave him alone for a couple of days. His problem was that despite all of that, it had been made clear that his expertise was still needed at a moment’s notice, to hell with any outside plans he might have that were oh so important. “I don’t have a problem.”

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

Pursing his lips, the older man stopped to consider for a moment whether it might be a good idea or not. One the one hand, he wanted to do whatever he could to help Montparnasse get past the worst of his misery until the drugs kicked in, but on the other, well, on the other he felt ill at ease about the idea of being so intimately close while the younger man was not in his right mind.

He let out a sigh and hoisted himself further onto the bed--making sure to stay on top of the blankets that Montparnasse was still at least partially beneath and arranged some of the pillows so he was still more sitting up than laid down.

Kryptonite || OPEN

ventriloquedelombre:

Claquesous let out a deep sigh, first taking Montparnasse’s hands and forcibly stilling them so that he could do what the younger man had been trying so hard to and failing to do. Even though he moved slowly, delicately even, it was still only seconds before the sweater was off and Claquesous was cautiously working off his binder, as well.

“I thought I told  you to get rid of this one,” he grunted. “It’s too small for you now. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Truth be told, he was a little worried he might get hurt, too, trying to get it off of him. The moisture and chill made the already-tight material constrict like a vice. 

“S-s-s-sorry,” he bit out, letting himself sink toward the floor both so that gravity would help extricate him from that godawful thing crushing his ribcage and simply because keeping himself standing was taking too much effort anyway. Once he was free the sudden unrestricted breathing room left him in a fit of coughing, system shocked by actually having enough air so easily.

Even as he was still fighting to regulate his breathing with a few deep gasps he was fumbling for the bathrobe hung on the bathroom door, covering himself again still an instinctive priority even in an environment he knew to be safe. Even though he was on the floor now, letting Claquesous help him out of the rest of his clothes was easier, finally curling–otherwise naked beneath the robe–into a quaking ball against the older man’s chest.

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

Folding his arms against his chest, Claquesous grunted and scanned for anyone else as well. Everyone being late, on top of his poor mood, was making him jumpy. Paranoid. They said only a liar suspected others of lying, and he supposed that went for snitches, too. If this was a setup his ex-wife would have his head even worse than she would for his being a no-show. He checked his phone, already having left her a text saying he couldn’t make it, expecting to see at least something snarky, but the woman was smarter than that. Of course she was. She was a lawyer.

“If your dad doesn’t show up soon I’m walking. This is getting ridiculous,” he grumbled.

❝ What’s your problem? ❞ @ask-darling-Eponine

“My problem.” It was a huffed statement rather than a returned question. His problem was that he was supposed to be meeting with his ex-wife to pick up Sabeen for the weekend. His problem was that he had specifically told everyone to leave him alone for a couple of days. His problem was that despite all of that, it had been made clear that his expertise was still needed at a moment’s notice, to hell with any outside plans he might have that were oh so important. “I don’t have a problem.”

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

"Where is Montparnasse? You can't just steal him away in the middle of the night!"

“I didn’t ‘steal’ him if he came voluntarily,” the much older man stated sternly, squaring himself so he had his full height as well as his unreadable expression, masked even further by the ever-present sunglasses. “He didn’t have to come.”

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

Releasing another frustrated sigh, Claquesous shook his head. He should have expected this. Of course Montparnasse would do something dumb. Now he would have to watch him to make sure he did not manage to overdose on a medication intended to help prevent overdose by not producing the high associated with other narcotics. If he had had the heroin Montparnasse wanted, he would have given it to him, then the Methadone after to stave off the withdrawals before they hit again, but that option was not open at the moment.

He grabbed the bin from beside the bed, handing it to Montparnasse in case he did get sick, then pulled out his phone. Worst case scenario, he would at least have some of the stuff on its way. The kid could pay him back later if it came to that.

Kryptonite || OPEN

ventriloquedelombre:

Claquesous let out a deep sigh, first taking Montparnasse’s hands and forcibly stilling them so that he could do what the younger man had been trying so hard to and failing to do. Even though he moved slowly, delicately even, it was still only seconds before the sweater was off and Claquesous was cautiously working off his binder, as well.

“I thought I told  you to get rid of this one,” he grunted. “It’s too small for you now. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Truth be told, he was a little worried he might get hurt, too, trying to get it off of him. The moisture and chill made the already-tight material constrict like a vice. 

“S-s-s-sorry,” he bit out, letting himself sink toward the floor both so that gravity would help extricate him from that godawful thing crushing his ribcage and simply because keeping himself standing was taking too much effort anyway. Once he was free the sudden unrestricted breathing room left him in a fit of coughing, system shocked by actually having enough air so easily.

Even as he was still fighting to regulate his breathing with a few deep gasps he was fumbling for the bathrobe hung on the bathroom door, covering himself again still an instinctive priority even in an environment he knew to be safe. Even though he was on the floor now, letting Claquesous help him out of the rest of his clothes was easier, finally curling–otherwise naked beneath the robe–into a quaking ball against the older man’s chest.

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

❝ What’s your problem? ❞ @ask-darling-Eponine

“My problem.” It was a huffed statement rather than a returned question. His problem was that he was supposed to be meeting with his ex-wife to pick up Sabeen for the weekend. His problem was that he had specifically told everyone to leave him alone for a couple of days. His problem was that despite all of that, it had been made clear that his expertise was still needed at a moment’s notice, to hell with any outside plans he might have that were oh so important. “I don’t have a problem.”

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

Letting him start collapsing toward the floor was difficult, even if it was the most effective way to get him out of the damned thing without just cutting it off of him, as much as he would have loved to do that and guarantee Montparnasse could not continue trying to use it when they both knew he had properly sized ones. Watching him coughing like a drowning victim getting their first sucking breaths of air was even harder and just proved his point. He threw the binder into the trash bin and shook his head.

Once Montparnasse was stripped down and curled up against him Claquesous lifted him and carried him to the bedroom. It still never ceased to disturb him how light the boy was, as if his bones were hollow like a bird’s. Once the kid was tucked in he stood and walked back to his kitchen, rummaging through a hidden compartment in one of his drawers and returning with some pills and a glass of water. “Take these. I don’t have anything else right now, but these’ll help. I had them left over from a friend.”

Kryptonite || OPEN

ventriloquedelombre:

Claquesous let out a deep sigh, first taking Montparnasse’s hands and forcibly stilling them so that he could do what the younger man had been trying so hard to and failing to do. Even though he moved slowly, delicately even, it was still only seconds before the sweater was off and Claquesous was cautiously working off his binder, as well.

“I thought I told  you to get rid of this one,” he grunted. “It’s too small for you now. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Truth be told, he was a little worried he might get hurt, too, trying to get it off of him. The moisture and chill made the already-tight material constrict like a vice. 

“S-s-s-sorry,” he bit out, letting himself sink toward the floor both so that gravity would help extricate him from that godawful thing crushing his ribcage and simply because keeping himself standing was taking too much effort anyway. Once he was free the sudden unrestricted breathing room left him in a fit of coughing, system shocked by actually having enough air so easily.

Even as he was still fighting to regulate his breathing with a few deep gasps he was fumbling for the bathrobe hung on the bathroom door, covering himself again still an instinctive priority even in an environment he knew to be safe. Even though he was on the floor now, letting Claquesous help him out of the rest of his clothes was easier, finally curling–otherwise naked beneath the robe–into a quaking ball against the older man’s chest.

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

Claquesous let out a deep sigh, first taking Montparnasse’s hands and forcibly stilling them so that he could do what the younger man had been trying so hard to and failing to do. Even though he moved slowly, delicately even, it was still only seconds before the sweater was off and Claquesous was cautiously working off his binder, as well.

“I thought I told  you to get rid of this one,” he grunted. “It’s too small for you now. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Truth be told, he was a little worried he might get hurt, too, trying to get it off of him. The moisture and chill made the already-tight material constrict like a vice. 

Kryptonite || OPEN

On the one hand, Montparnasse had authority over dozens of people, men, women, and others. His commands spelled life and death. His word had the power of kings and the city was his kingdom.

On the other hand, he was just like everyone else. He had weaknesses. Curled up on a doorstep that wasn’t his, he banged on the door, sweating and shaking, tear stains on his cheeks. He was out of smack, out of money, and now he was sat on the stoop of the only person he thought might help him.

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

Claquesous had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, reading glasses pushed so askew that when he lifted his head at the knocking that they fell off entirely. His imprompty nap had left him disoriented, and when he scanned the paperwork he had been working on he could hardly make sense of where he had left off. Damn. The second thing he checked was the time. It had only been about an hour, but that hour was apparently enough to leave him feeling like he was adrift in the whole of the damned time-space continuum.

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” He barked as the banging at his door started up again.

When he opened the door, though, his irritability quickly shifted to something less...easy to define. Seeing Montparnasse like this was not entirely unheard of, and indeed it was beginning to seem more frequent, at least to him, and the complexities of their relationship made easily categorized emotions about this kind of situation difficult. On a professional level, it was infuriating. On a personal level, heartbreaking. Quickly pulling the much younger man inside with strings of muttered curses, Claquesous led him straight to the bathroom to help him get out of those damned wet clothes before the kid caught his death.

Kryptonite || OPEN

On the one hand, Montparnasse had authority over dozens of people, men, women, and others. His commands spelled life and death. His word had the power of kings and the city was his kingdom.

On the other hand, he was just like everyone else. He had weaknesses. Curled up on a doorstep that wasn’t his, he banged on the door, sweating and shaking, tear stains on his cheeks. He was out of smack, out of money, and now he was sat on the stoop of the only person he thought might help him.

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

Claquesous smirked as the clearly flustered teenager made his exit. There was no guilt to be had here for reminding the boy of proper procedure, whether he had it down or not. Eventually he would learn all of them needed the reminders now and again and not to take it so personally. For now, the much older criminal settled into his seat more comfortably. He planned to take his time.

Baubles and Buttons || OPEN

ventriloquedelombre:

“It retails at about eight-and-a-half, if that’s what you’re wondering. You know as well as I do you won’t be able to get full-value for it. But it’s smart wanting to check it out on your own to be sure.” He scribbled the information out on a napkin and slid it over to him, then stood. “Got places I need to be, so decide fast.”

He still wanted to see for himself, not answering until he confirmed it on his phone. Standing up as well, he circled around the table. Coyly looking up at the much, much taller man through his dark lashes, he cooed, “If you make it three and a half I’ll take now, otherwise I’ll wait for your guy.”

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

The taller one with the two guys dancing looks kinda like my Claquesous and I just

Yes

Skilled Dancer ‘Sous Yes

(watch the video)

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

thievesandflattery:

“Thanks?” She snickered, running a hand through her hair. “My family’s not that bad though once you get use to them.” Azelma shrugged. “I dunno, I’ve just learned when to follow and when to lead. Differentiated between those two times is pretty easy once you remember to ask yourself which one of them is more likely to lead to you getting any bodily harm.”

“I’ve had a few years to get used to your dad. I’m still about ready to rip his throat out half the time. I think he forgets sometimes that we’re supposed to be equals, even if he is the one lining up some of our jobs.” Pulling his phone out while he spoke, he quickly glanced through several texts he had gotten during the short time he and Azelma had been talking. If it weren’t for ever-present sunglasses, she would have been able to see that he glared briefly at the screen before putting it away.

“No, I’m not doubting you.” (Thievesandflattery)

He grunted, adjusting his sunglasses. “People only say that when they doubt something. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

[ventriloquedelombre-archive-blog]

“Done. We should probably take this away from prying eyes, though. Don’t need people wondering. You walk out first, you’ve been here longest. I’ll stay and see about blending in and meet you in a few minutes.”

Baubles and Buttons || OPEN

ventriloquedelombre:

“It retails at about eight-and-a-half, if that’s what you’re wondering. You know as well as I do you won’t be able to get full-value for it. But it’s smart wanting to check it out on your own to be sure.” He scribbled the information out on a napkin and slid it over to him, then stood. “Got places I need to be, so decide fast.”

He still wanted to see for himself, not answering until he confirmed it on his phone. Standing up as well, he circled around the table. Coyly looking up at the much, much taller man through his dark lashes, he cooed, “If you make it three and a half I’ll take now, otherwise I’ll wait for your guy.”