RMH
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Keni
styofa doing anything
One Nice Bug Per Day
No title available
KIROKAZE
occasionally subtle
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
h
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
AnasAbdin
hello vonnie
No title available
⁂
Today's Document
izzy's playlists!
tumblr dot com
ojovivo
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
seen from United States
seen from Lithuania
seen from Czechia
seen from Singapore
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Malaysia
seen from Spain
seen from Iraq
seen from Germany
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Spain
@lonelyhxert
⟨ adarsh gourav. non-binary. they/them. 27. ⟩ We just saw lukesh rana entering scotland yard. I heard through the grapevine that they are a MET officer. Although they are part of the government, they can sometimes be blunt, greedy, or even superstitious but I’ve also heard some people say that they were adventurous, insightful and quite sentimental.— niek. they/them. 31. ust/gmt+1. Striker Team (3/3)
threads // biography // muse
Yasemin was walking home from the bar when she got wind of the street fight, ever curious and a fan of fights she decided to lean against the wall on the opposite side of the street and watch. It wasn't as fun to watch as boxing, but she did enjoy seeing a good fight from time to time. "I wouldn't judge you for considering a drink after all that."
Lukesh touched their lip with a finger and was still aware of the sting, then moved towards the stranger a bit more, aware of how in the open they were standing. “Wallah, would if I could. Bastards were fucking pissed,” they uttered, constant with their cursing if only because they were as much filled with adrenaline as the fighters had been with alcohol. “And they were too drunk to know when to stay down.”
Olivia leaned against an old stone building, her back against its rough surface. She stood with one foot pressed against the wall as if trying to anchor herself to the spot. Her hand held a vape, which she seemed to carry with her at all times while outside. It was her lifeline, her source of comfort. The nicotine hit was the only thing that could quell the nagging cravings that threatened to consume her if she went too long without it.
As she stood there, lost in her thoughts, she heard someone talking. She couldn't tell if they were talking to her or just talking aloud, lost in their own world. She responded anyway. "It's not as good as people make it seem," The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the streets and buildings. The light was fading, replaced by the dull glow of streetlights and neon signs. "People might look like they're having fun, but the hangover the next day isn't always worth it," she added, her voice trailing off. She noticed the person she was talking to had a busted lip and a ripped shirt. They looked like they had a story to tell. "That looks like it hurts," she remarked, nodding towards them.
“Yaar, I know,” Lukesh breathed, leaning against the building next to her, their hand reach up to touch their split lip, then lifting their shirt to see if the damage could be repaired, only to find there was blood on his shirt as well. Damned drunks.
“They did not look like they were having fun, wallah. Those bastards, they looked like they were ready to fuck up someone else’s evening. Meaning mine, yaar. Wallah, I would never.” They shook their head, narrowing their eyes. Lukesh let their shirt hang again and touched their lip, it still stung. “It does, wallah. Do I have any other injuries?” they asked, turning to face the stranger. “Not sure anymore how many fist I managed to avoid and how many I caught with my face.”
“I can do nothing but recommend heavy drinking.” Jack has the last of the drunk brawlers on his knees next to one of the police cars on scene, deftly snapping a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. It’s a complete piss-take that he’s on patrol duty, but a combination of piling HR reprimands and the shit-show of an event at the Liddell hippodrome has sent him well and truly into red territory with the Chief. Officially, it’s training for community engagement. Unofficially, it’s a very creative punishment.
“Get up.” Shoving the man up and into the backseat of the car, Jack wipes his hands on his uniform jacket before turning to face his colleague. “Mate, you’re off duty, why the fuck are you busting your balls over a drunk scuffle? You look like shit.”
“Would if I could, wallah,” Lukesh said, throwing a hand in the air as they said it, shaking their head, pretending that this was absolutely not done. It wasn’t, truly, their parents would murder them, but most of all, the disappointment would be too great. Here they were, despite a demanding job they had still not taken alcohol.
With a bob of their head, Lukesh touched a hand to their face, bruised? Perhaps. They did not make assumptions without a mirror - or a shrill of pain. No use, to worry about looking like shit when they had no interest in doing anything better with their looks. And Lukesh considered themself a looker, pretty, enticing, a looker. “Yaar, I had no interest in partaking in this, I was dragged in, and I threw no fists, I only placed a knee here or there.”
OPEN STARTER for whomever London's streets, late evening, after a street fight
Lukesh hated being included in something when they weren't on the job. When their face was recognised or when they felt that annoying itch that they had to participate, which is what they did. And after they always regretted it. They weren't dressed to deal with it, their shirt was ripped and their lip bleeding.
But a few of the fighters had been arrested and they were free to continue their night. As if that was such an easy thing to get back from. Lukesh licked their lip and hissed at the pain. "Fuckers and alcohol, I swear, almost makes me want to take up drinking myself."
CLOSED STARTER for @mrzanebastias location ; could be anywhere
Lukesh knew they were cutting it close, in all regards they were certain making a fool of themself with how often they were stealing stuff from crime scenes, lining their pockets with money that could only come from the criminal circuit and then buying expensive things with it. Luckily, nobody they worked with that wasn't Jack or Ira was allowed in their apartment, so nobody would learn that they had far too many expensive things. And they did far too many expensive things; vacations abroad, renting fancy cars and suits, going to clubs, operas, and so forth.
That did mean that any time someone tried to throw a wrench in their plan, Lukesh needed to stop them. They had to find dirt on Zane Bastias, to make sure that the criminal didn't rat them out.
"You seem to be up to something," they young MET agent said to the thief, who was older, taller, bigger, than them.
"Less 'free' and more of a consolation for running into you," Nikolai said with a light smile. He looked over his shoulder towards the piano -- still occupied and heaved a sigh. Whoever was playing wasn't even good and he would be happier having a reason to keep himself. Although, they seemed nice enough. "I've been trying to get over there all night, I wasn't paying attention," he explained, gesturing in the general area of the piano, then offered a hand. "I'm Nikolai; thank you for not being a prick."
Lukesh decided not to argue on that, a consolation seemed even worse than a free drink, but they simply nursed the glass and looked at the other with an expression of amusement. "What, the piano? To play? What would you play?" they asked. "If I get you there, I get an apology song, right?" they joked. Being offered a hand and the comment that they weren't being a prick was new. Though, Lukesh wasn't really a prick, they were just rude sometimes, and people didn't know how to deal with the truth. "Lukesh," they said, accepting the hand. "But you can call me Luke." Most people did, it worked. "Are you a pianist?"
Julie's surprise at someone bumping into her quickly turned into a grin at the sight of Lukesh's familiar face. "I was hoping you'd be here -- even if some of the people are stuffy," she said. They both knew that was an understatement. Many of the people were stuffy.
Despite her current job, Julie could never quite shake the feeling that she didn't belong in these crowds and others could sense it. She liked her mask though and held hers up to her face when Lukesh brought them up. "Oh, come on. They might just enjoy the theatre of it all," she said, faux posh accent to emphasize 'theatre.' "But no, I have not clocked my exits and can't find Ender. So, why don't you show me, but really can you just keep me company? I figure if you look like you're working you won't get pulled aside and scolded because of me."
Lukesh grinned back at Julie. "Yeah? I was hoping I'd be here too, and I guess I made it. Don't rat me out okay, I don't think I'm supposed to be here," they whispered back at her. Stuffy seemed not to be enough to explain it, they felt like they were the only person in the room - and Julie - that didn't have a stick up their butt.
They pressed their hand against their mouth and grinned. "I ain't working though," they told her. "But I am pretending I am. Plenty of exits though, two to your left, two to your right, one behind us, fire exit, and there is a balcony we can use to get to the stairs," they said, without pointing. "These stuffy people really did a number on you, if you want me for company." They wiggled their eyebrows. But no really, they were fun, they just needed to hear her say it.
“Vastly,” Cicero replies drily, though he resists the urge to pull his phone back out. He’d been busying himself with looking up statistics on the country’s school-lunch crisis, angrily scrolling through articles on ever rising poverty numbers and the socio-economic factors crippling the UK’s crumbling welfare system while the party continued merrily around him.
“My phone doesn’t try to make invasive small-talk with me.” He’s lost count on how many times complete strangers have asked him whether he’s married yet.
Lukesh chuckled. "It would be fun, if phones did that. Imagine sitting on the tube and getting a notif like 'what's the last time you had a good cry?'. Honestly, I'd find that fuckin' hilarious." They crossed their arms and had another look around as well. "Is that all people do to you at this party?" they asked. "Because I could think of a whole lot better to ask... or do." They wiggled their eyebrows. "But I got nothing to loose, so I'd just make up answers that make no sense. We can practice."
Once he had moved past the slight jump scare the other had just pulled on him, Ira could finally bring himself to respond :"Fucking tell me about it." He had been spending the whole afternoon running left and right in the stables to keep horse owners from stabbing one another to death. He poisoned my bloody horse, they'd yell, between a bunch of expletives that were so vicious he doubted having ever heard Jack or Luke ever speak them.
"I've had at least three nepotism babies shove their watch in my face," he began. The look in his eyes told one thing : it was a miracle no arms had been broken in the process. It was one of the reasons they had him in the strike force rather than regular forces... he could get a bit brutal in his approach. "Lots of pretty gals I suppose, but this is hardly the place."
Lukesh' eyes slightly bulged at the mention of watches, though they didn't ask if he'd actually swiped them or not. Maybe they would later, if there was chaos. They hoped of course that there wouldn't be chaos, but that could still happen. The way it seemed to be going, anything was possible.
"Good watches?" they asked, their eyes scanning the crowds, not able to turn down their training. "Wouldn't want to deal with any gals at this party, pretty stuck up if you ask me." Though... they did locate a few Ira was talking about. "Yet, seen any you'd think I have a chance with, this is a team effort, Pathak."
@iraavanan-pathak
"Wallah, your life is shit."
Lukesh couldn't help sneaking up on Ira as they watched him work. And banter came natural to them, the trio of MET agents barely could get through a conversation without insults. The fact that Lukesh had time off and Ira was forced to work simply made it funny. Because they were the youngest. And there was always something to say about the youngest: still had a lot to learn, needed to prove themself. Not Lukesh. They managed to get out of most of that only because they associated with Jack and Ira. People thought they were older.
"Can you imagine having to work and keep an eye on all these fuckers?" They chuckled. "Seriously though, what's it like keeping an eye on rich people? Feels more like a stake-out than a surveillance. Seen anything fun?"
@juliekang
Lukesh smirked as they bumped a shoulder into Julie, their eyes already scanning the crowds. "Hi," they said, as they contented themself with the area and turned fully towards the nurse. "Did you clock your exits?" they asked, mostly a joke and a reminder of past interactions. As if Lukesh was some private security who did this on a daily basis and not a corrupt MET agent who did it because they needed to know how to make off with evidence.
"Safety always comes first," they assured her. "And place like this... plenty people hiding their true intentions. Pretty sure those masks are supposed to show that. Hiding in plain sight." Like them: because they were not supposed to be there.
Favorite band?
"Swet Shop Boys. I don't know if they're a band, but they're amazing."
Would you ever become a private detective?
"Nope, sounds like a lot of work and overtime."
where: liddell hippodrome who: open
Cicero’s been at the soirée a whole two hours and already he’s experienced enough sickening displays of wealth to make him want to set the entire place on fire. If he were there of his own free will he’d have turned and left even before passing through the hippodrome’s main gate, but as it stands he’s attending as part of the Prime Minister’s retinue - a position that requires him to mingle and socialise at least somewhat, no matter how it makes his blood boil.
So far, plastering on a disinterested smile and keeping to the fringes of the crowd has helped him stay unnoticed, but there’s only so much Cicero can do to keep attention off himself while sporting a lanyard which rather unsubtly identifies him as a government employee. Neither does it help his case that he hasn’t bothered with a mask and is wearing only a plain black suit, but there are only so many concessions Cicero’s willing to make for his job before it ventures beyond what he's prepared to endure.
Nursing the same glass of now lukewarm champagne as he’d received upon arrival, Cicero only looks up from his phone after a newfound presence at his side makes itself known with a small scuffle of feet against carpet. He pockets the device and hopes that his smile borders on the right side of pleasant.
“Good evening.”
Lukesh never enters a room intending to start trouble, that was usually just the most natural progression of it all. There was something that happened that they shouldn't comment on, but they did, and it wasn't received well. As a child they'd always been quiet, listening to their elders, never raising their voice, but now they were the adult, and they'd never been taught the British indirectness... not successfully at least. "Your phone's more interesting than the party?" Lukesh asked with a smile.
They'd been turned out from an earlier conversation, asked to leave. Which wasn't that surprising. But it meant that they were looking for new places to have conversations in. And they hadn't planned to talk to this one, but 'good evening' had been said, and Lukesh had some manners.
Open Starter for: everyone!
When: March 2024
Where: Liddell Hippodrome
On principle alone, Nikolai tried his damnedest to avoid these events thrown by his family. It seemed Viktor finally managed to outsmart him by figuring out that he was not expected to be at the Royal Opera House for the entire week. So, there Nikolai was outside of his house and among the masses. He sullenly drifted among the crowds, half mask pressed to his face (as if it did anything to truly hide his identity), in search of Max or Eliza.
As trays of drinks passed by him, Nikolai's eyes searched until they finally noticed a piano by the stage. A lighthouse in the ocean. Nikolai beelined for his beacon of hope when he stumbled into someone else. He coughed at the impact, mask only slightly askew, and lightly patted the shoulder of whoever he brushed against. "My apologies," he said, before lifting two drinks off the tray. Well, now he had to play social. It was the least he could do, he supposed. "Care for a drink as an apology?"
Lukesh didn't belong at events like this. They had always been below working class, or they'd all been working in the household. But now Lukesh had money to dress up, to look the part, to roam among rich people and pretend they were one of them. They were wearing a three piece suit that looked perfect on them, hair styled. A mask on their face that they had stolen from some lady in the queue outside. Wouldn't be missed, they'd changed it a bit in the bathroom so the same lady wouldn't recognise it again.
Within the bustling crowd, they wouldn't have thought anyone would walk into them. That seemed odd. Surely they were visible enough, and all these pompous people seemed eager not to interact with people they didn't know. They turned to face the stranger and smiled. "Absolutely," they answered, taking the glass. They hadn't had a lick of alcohol in all their twenty-seven years of life, and they wouldn't start it now, but it was simply funny: apologising with free drink. "I do like free apologies."
