Solomon Julian Charbonneau (julesignacio) wrote in thegrand_ic, @ 2012-03-11 01:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | jules charbonneau |
Who Jules
When March 10, 2012
What Itching a scratch
Where Cabaret, and elsewheres
Type: Narrative
Warning: Yeah, warnings lol.
Status: Complete
Solomon Julian Charbonneau, half an angel, half a man, once half a demon and that really wasn’t that long ago in the greater scheme of things. His kids were in college, 21 years old. Compare that time to the rest of his over 500 years of life and this whole being good thing, just wasn’t really all that natural to him. Yeah, not really. That guilt in his heart for his evils against the human race he was a part of didn’t even really kick in till mid-life trying his damn best to satisfy Hell and his demonic father. Jules might have been saved, might have earned white wings, but he wasn’t pure. He wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t snow white, angel of God or not. He was no longer sentenced to Hell. But, he was still half human, still here to learn lessons like a man, and there was so much rebellion to live out his own opinions it was truly hard for him not to act on them.
He often had conflicting thoughts still. His intentions were never truly evil, however silly his pranks ever got and usually it managed to stay at that level. He really didn’t think he was doing anything wrong most of the time when he stepped out of bounds, for what one might think a heavenly angel might do. But, today Jules looked in the full length mirror. He had on his coveted Marilyn Manson music. He had always been a fan-boy extreme. The lyrics to many of his songs spoke to him on so many personal levels. He wasn’t sure anyone understood this, even Jeremie. Jeremie often made him turn it down like it was just noise making him feel like a little kid or teenager being scolded by his parent. But, he was alone in the room, song up, The Nobodies. The lyrics still hit home. All of his old mind sets still hit home. But, music often shifted his moods, pulled him back. He leaned his spine against the stripper pole Jeremie brought over and installed from the farm. It was set about 7 feet from the mirror. He wore nothing but a but a pair of skinny ripped blue jeans, bare feet with midnight blue toenails, deep set black liner with hints of the same blue around the edges (it always brought out the sky blue in his eyes), even the glitter splash he’d been a little busy to apply lately was speckled on his skin flaring out his temples. Hints of midnight sparkle in his hair, sheen on his chest, black light on so he could see his glowing tats, and the black ink of the other tattoos moved fluidly as his skin shifted with his bare ribs as he lifted his hands over his head to grip the pole behind his head. He never stopped staring into his own club lined rebel eyes as he mouthed the lyrics, “.Today I am dirty, I want to be pretty, Tomorrow, I know I'm just dirt.” His knees started to sink, hips jutting forward as he arched against that pole and lowered his body as he licked his lips, letting his eyes fall veiled, in a back slide shimmy. He was letting the music lead him. Then in a sudden upheaval he jumped, gripping the pole hard, flinging his body outward then captain hooked his leg spinning around it several times, neck flung back like he was flying and free until his body spun clear to the ground for double hook dismount. He started to cat crawl across the floor at himself in the mirror, like he was his own audience to tease. When he made it to the mirror he licked the air as came back to a standing position. He lifted a coy shoulder at himself as he held a limp wrist to his bangs pulling them even lower giving him a real peek-a-boo look. His nostrils flaired and he took in a deep inhalation. Then he held his chin rather erect and cocked, smirked at himself with a little wink like he’d finally come to a decision on something he’d been pondering.
That’s when the next song came on, “Long Hard Road Out of Hell.” As he turned to walk to find his shoes he caught glimpse of the cross tattoo on his back in the mirror and kept looking at it over his shoulder. He knew it was there to protect others, protect himself, his built in warning signal, burning him if he ever pressed the limits too far, not ever wanting “to fall” again. It was Jeremie’s idea to put it there. Jules agreed quickly as he often did with Jeremie’s suggestions. But, it was also a permanent reminder that he could fuck up. It was also a permanent reminder in Jules’ mind that Jeremie thought it was necessary, like he didn’t fully believe in him. This was one of those things he never spoke of. But, it was always there. Right there in the recesses of Jules’ mind that he wasn’t good enough…even now.
All these nagging thoughts were getting to him this evening and he just wanted to have some damn fun and every time he thought he came up with something fun, Jeremie had to alter his ideas, to make them better, more acceptable in the eyes of the Lord, or something like that. That’s how Jules saw it anyway even when he believed his original ideas were harmless. But, he always just agreed.
Jules was tired of people pleasing, even with Jeremie.
He bent down zipping up his black sparkle platform boots, then slipped on a low cut black vest, no shirt under it, then slipped a slew of necklaces around his neck, all the treasure looking akin to something pulled from a vodoun’s hide-a-way. He looked back in the mirror one more time as the song changed to “If I was Your Vampire” and it made him smirk again just thinking on the past as he trounced out the room with attitude in his power strut.
He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a dry erase marker and wrote, “Going out. Be back sometime. Love Jules.” Then drew a little smiley face, but one eye on it was flat, like it was winking and he even drew two little fangs on the smile. He wasn’t even sure why he did that. But, something compelled him to do it, so he did. Then he sauntered on out the door.
His music binge didn’t end there. The moment he sealed the car door and turned the engine on he turned on his Manson tunes there too. He cruised downtown with “The Dope Show and The Beautiful People” on high volume with the windows cracked. He parked in front of The Devil’s Luck and stared at it a moment seething the more he thought about the threat on Koko. He almost went in, but peeled outta there realizing it would cause more trouble than good. He was sick of feeling out of control of things.
He just wanted to feel good.
He finally parked in some cabaret’s parking lot. He’d heard rumors it was a brothel too, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t care. He felt at home in these kinds of places. It’s where his whole life up till finding Jeremie was spent. Their first kiss was in the Moulin Rouge as Jules worked the audience full of horny soldiers. Jules was no stranger to these kind of places. When he went in, there was a woman in a sequin dress singing a starlet’s song wearing bright red lipstick, burlesque girl’s with fans just her. But, it was also a modern place and there were modern day strip poles on platforms in the corners of the room. Then Jules spotted it. A swing ring, just like the one he has on the farm. His lips started to curl. His walk was nothing but confident alluring as he strode past the drinkers partaking in their night’s spirits. Jules ordered his own , six fucking tequila shots right in a row, just like his old usual. Three at a time. That was always his unwritten rule. He shot down the first three without flinching, slamming the last glass down. He caught glimpse of the juke box as the girl left the stage and the place was told there was going to be a break. He slammed down the last three, hissing after each by that point. Jules always took down fast for a quick buzz. He told the tender three more as he walked away to hog the juke box to be in charge of the music. He was in a mood he wanted to keep going.
Manson. Perfect. He found his old theme song. It was almost more fitting than it ever used to be. This is the New Shit. He mumbled the first few lines as he slinked back to get his next three shots, “Everything has been said before, There's nothing left to say anymore” He took those shots down as fast as the first six. To say the least he had a lot in his system in a very short amount of time and he could feel it in his face, the honey warmth, and mellow drizzle course through his veins.
Jules eyed the empty pole in the corner and he knew his song rather well. His hands shot up in the air. He always was one to bring attention to himself and screamed along when the song changed up to teenage rage, “ARE YOU MOTHER FUCKING READY?!” He jumped from the stool and ran at the pole diving right at it, leaping high, and swinging several 360’s around it before his leg hooked to keep him from slipping down it. The whole damn room cheered for him and the crowd gathered quick. He ate it up too. Just like he always did. Fed from it, his performance growing more wild by the second. He grasped mock desperately above him at the pole climbing higher like there was something that was going to save him up there or was running from something below him. Then his eyes shot out to the crowd, connecting with many individually, boring through them, changing demeanor as he turned his head and faced the pole again and licked the cold metal, nuzzling it with his face like he wanted to make love to it before his arms dropped behind him, letting the pole go, leaving him hanging upside down, gripping the silver by his thighs. He threw his weight to the left, causing his body to spin as he undid his vest button and let it slide off and out into the crowd before pulling back up and finishing a rather sensual, but high energy impromptu routine. When he jumped down from the platform everyone was on him, laughing, cheering, slapping his bare back like they’d known him forever. Jules always did have a way with people. They gravitated towards him like they always did. He had his arms around the necks of two people as they laughed it up about his performance. They told him he should be a professional. Comments like that were always funny to Jules. If only he could truly report all his experience on a resume! Jules couldn’t help but get into a convo about Jenyne Butterfly since she was who he mimicked many of his moves from when he learned how to work a hoop and he decided to show off and took the place down a few notches putting on the song I AM doing a very similar but far more Julesy version of Miss Butterfly’s hoop routine. Jules wanted to show his diversity and get some more attention. The crowd was so stoked and pumped during his impromptu Manson pole strip but during this one everyone was quiet and seemed awe-struck as they watched how graceful he be. The kind of applause he got when it was over even made him grow a blushy rose in his cheeks, not having that sort of attention in a long time, other than from his husband, so many people telling him how beautiful he was. But, it was time for the club’s real stage acts to come back on and he asked if he could just play on the swing while it was going on and the owner didn’t seem to mind. He was even approached for employment and Jules told him he’d have to think about it. Many things happened after that when he was taken back stage and shown around. He got to play in the costumes and they let him meet all the performers who were doing make up and changing. The owner was really trying to pull Jules in making him feel at home telling him he was welcome back there whenever he pleased. Time and time again, demon or angel it seemed, Jules managed to infiltrate an establishment and made himself a little family before the night was out. He shared stories all night of his past, at least the ones he could without giving himself away, continued to drink, and just had some good fun sharing himself and learning about these new people’s lives in return.
But, last call eventually happened and Jules realized he’d have to get back home sometime. He never did get his vest back. Some random person ended up leaving wearing it. He realized he shouldn’t be driving home either, so he went ahead and found a safe spot hidden to poof back home. He did not however poof back home with all his other belongings either. He’d given all his necklaces away to different people to remember him by and he was still bare chested but with black suspenders added to his ensemble, not to mention some body paint where he had let a few friends put their signatures on him as they were all doing it to each other for kicks. He had one hot pink name painted right on his ass.
He walked into the living room from the kitchen wondering what time it was as his blurry eyes checked the clock. It was 5 in the morning. He still didn't feel like he'd done anything wrong. He'd broken no vows or committed any sins by his interpretation of them. Jules was grinning to himself as he was still hyped up and flipping through his CD collection trying to decide what mood he was in then.