𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜

[spliinters]

#𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 · dependent muse blog for @bloodngloryhq

ambrose jow · co-leader of the network seneca white · therapist and tactical trainer for nightshade shayden "shady" ortiz · firefighter griselda warby · barista and hacker for echo adem tüfekçi · security for kurtlar bailey shepherd · chaplain for outlaws mc

[spliinters]

closed starter   · @graciexmitchell location  · her home

he'd pick her up from hell if she asked. not that she'd have a reason to go there.

though she's dressed as a ballerina, she may as well be adorned with a halo, eyes alight with a certain sparkle within her drunken stupor. the male couldn't remember having seen grace this intoxicated before, or at the very least, not while he was sober. but she was easy enough to manage. the most difficult part had been the traipse from his truck passenger side through the front door of her house. he'd opted to just scoop her up in his arms bridal style, a loose feather now stuck to his fire department tee shirt.

shayden set her on the ground with the necessary delicacy of handling a small animal, hand placed on the middle of her back just in case she fumbled, like the baby deer she was. " you're sure you don't feel sick or anything ? " though she'd clearly had a fair amount to drink, he wasn't particularly worried about it. he subconsciously took on the role of caring for her like it was meant just for him. " we need to get you some water. and maybe some ibuprofen. "

[oflifelincs]

Hearing the nickname parroted back to her in his voice pulled a laugh from the blonde, her head nodding in confirmation. "Pookie." She confirmed, playfully blowing a kiss in his direction just to hammer the sickening moniker home.

She held his gaze for a moment, mirth dancing in her bright blue eyes contradicting the obvious annoyance shining back at her through his muted hues, but their connection was broken by his sparring partner pulling his attention back to the ring. Still, her grin didn't falter as she watched him react to the attempted onslaught, reaching into the pocket of her discarded gym bag to pull out a heart shaped lollipop and unwrap it before popping the candy into her mouth.

After watching his response with a critical eye, Blair grabbed the sucker by the stick and removed it from her mouth so she could answer properly. Except she ignored his questions and instead offered some unsolicited advice— something she knew would only serve to aggravate him more and yet still chose to poke the bear. "If you plant your back leg and actually follow through with your hits you'll have more power." She said, knowing her friendly advice was unwanted but good nonetheless. "I can get my brother to show you if you want."

[spliinters]

perhaps it's the lingering adrenaline still coursing through him from the fight, but something about the blonde's oh so casual girly disposition made adem's blood boil with annoyance. back at home in turkey, it was rare that women were around during training. not that adem felt any particular way about who or who didn't belong inside the gym — that was purely his father's old-world preferences. but the youngest son had to admit to himself that he was certainly a lot less distracted when there wasn't shrill little voices shouting pet names and eating candy in front of him.

" i'd offer my brother to teach you a thing or two in return, but i heard he already has. " he made a face at her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. adem had never been particularly sharp with his words, especially when he was provoked. at most, he'd throw a haphazard insult out in the spur of the moment, but this situation didn't call for any vulgarities. instead he'll take out his aggression on the straps secured around his hands and wrists, pulling them off and throwing them roughly to the gym floor. " do you come here strictly to patronize me ? tempt me with refined sugar ? " he thinks, in a way, blair herself is refined sugar.

[brckenways]

Her head ached and the world was starting to go blurry at the edges of her vision, and dimly in the back of her head, Mia knew this was the efforts of the blood loss. Any one with half a functioning brain cell would understand that Mia was not playing and that their life was actually in danger. Yet, Adem stared up at her with an excitement and a hungry admiration in his dark eyes. Was she imagining this from the head wound? No, she could already tell that he was that stupid to get turned on by someone holding a gun to his head.

That knife was still in his hand, even after she had told him to drop it and clearly he needed to be taught a lesson for the double sin of thinking he could attack her and not listening to her orders. His entire existence was getting under her skin, and Mia felt her chest heat up with the anger he was stirring in her. Why couldn't he listen so she could hurry this up and get her head seen to? But it was the smugness, the clear way he thought he knew her so well that burned her the quickest.

"Don't you ever get tired of being wrong?" Mia asked, tilting her head to cover the wince she felt from her head hammering like a jackhammer was going against it. "I could kill you so easily. You wouldn't be the first. Your last name means something, but you attacked me first, a fact I'm sure my brother would back me up on." Mia spoke and stepped closer. "You're enjoying this..." It wasn't a question, but a fact. She could see the wonder in his gaze, the awe and the pleasure as he looked up at her from his kneeling position.

Fine, let him enjoy it fully then. Using every ounce of her strength to stay steady on her feet, she took one more step forward and pushed the gun's barrel against his pretty lips. "Suck." Mia commanded, her own twisted sense of pleasure seeping into her gaze. This was a contest between them now, to see who could push the other more, who could fuck up the other more and come out on top. So fine, let him see that she was on top. "Open your mouth and suck." She ordered again, her words quiet but full of the power she wielded over him right now.

[spliinters]

aching chest heaves with anticipation — though the sensation has another name too : longing. perhaps its the physical toll the pain was taking on his body, he thinks. how foolish of him to have put all of his effort into training against people he had no psychological pull towards. mental exercise would've been more beneficial. he makes a note to bring this to his older brother's attention, should kerem hear of this particular encounter. ( he undoubtedly would. )

" your looks alone could kill, bebeğim. " words are spoken through gritted teeth, less as a compliment and more as a matter of fact. shoulders lift in a semblance of a shrug, as though he was unfazed by her ability, despite how disarming he found it to be. mia barone could've been responsible for countless deaths and he wouldn't have doubted it. both physically and especially intellectually, where she quite obviously surpassed him. not that'd he ever admit that part out loud.

when the barrel of the gun is pressed against his mouth, eyes widen with genuine surprise, enough to pull a shallow gasp from his throat. lips part as it expels, metal clanking against his teeth. adem swore he could taste it in his mouth, but he fights back instinctually. " suck ? " she was just as crazy as he was. confirmed. stomach flips with unease, having never been on the other end of this sort of power struggle. hesitation has him bowing away from the gun, moving it into the hollow just below his cheekbone, better angling the barrel towards his spine, where it could really do some damage. what other choice did he have than to comply ? than to quietly, ashamedly enjoy her dominion ?

blackened eyes lock on mia's as he eventually gives in, mouth opening as wide as he possibly could before wrapping around the muzzle of the handgun. front sight scraped uncomfortably against the roof of his mouth. the metal was cold, but tasted familiar, like blood. he thinks, what a pathetic end, and a throaty but muffled groan elicits as if to agree with himself. the further she pushes it into his mouth, he feels his body clamming up, unsure of how to respond to something so invasive, yet strangely condoned. the knife in his hand clatters to the ground.

[staincdvermillion]

as the silence between responses became awkward, zehra began to wonder if he hesitated this much on a call. did he stand with the hose in his hand, waiting for some response from the fire? her brows creased as she tried to imagine him at a blazing house fire. or more appropriately, she thought, a trailer fire. the gummy worm was placed into her mouth, severed in two. before she watched him thoughtfully, chewing on that little gummy half. until his remark, and her own lips turned up.

" i do know, " she said, as she placed the other half of the gummy worm into her mouth. " i know that fire stations are public property, though not public accessed. " the bag was lowered now, as she canted her head. as she watched him approach as if he intended to fireman carry her out of the building. it would be interesting to see.

" i don't end up anywhere by accident, " she offered, before she spun on her feet. her gaze slipped over the different areas around her. noting all the different items that were used to fight any fire. " so, were you off duty when the trailer fire happened? or did you scramble back here to pretend like you'd never left in the first place? "

[spliinters]

her pointed question and nonchalant disposition ignites something in the male. alarms began going off in his head, comparable to the very alert system the station used, only visceral. typically, shayden did his best to ignore that part of himself — the rebellious, anti-establishment, angsty teen version that still lived deep inside him, harboring bureaucratic burns. he'd spoken to one too many social workers with loose lips, cops with so-called good intentions, to trust the penchants of a nosy stranger.

he allowed her inquiries to hang in the air for a moment as he collected himself, expression slack other than the furrow of his brows. eventually, he speaks, voice unwavering. " who do you work for ? " shayden knew better than to expose himself and the underworld ties he still had, but there was no sense in wasting time with someone who came from somewhere similar. " i don't have to tell you shit. " there's a darkness that coats his tone, street-hardened exterior showing through like a second layer of armor on reserve for precise moments.

angling himself closer to the firetruck, if only to hide himself from the camera systems, hyperawareness has him choosing a makeshift weapon in the room. not that he'd need it, based on appearance alone, but backup plans were necessary. " — tell me who the fuck you work for. " hands ball into fists.

[oflifelincs]

Letting out a quiet chuckle that was carried out to the ocean by a sudden gust of wind, Mackenzie reached out and playfully ruffled Shady's hair— needing to rise onto her elbows from her reclined position to reach it. "Artists charge big bucks for their shit, Shay. I am not an artist." While she was often found covered in paint with half finished canvasses scattered around both her and Adonis' homes, Mackenzie had never considered herself an artist. Her paintings were done out of necessity, as a way to get feelings she couldn't find the strength to verbalize out of her system before they suffocated her. So selling that art? While she'd argue that her reason for keeping it to herself (and often burning it once she'd run out of space to store her work) was because it simply wasn't good enough for public consumption, the real reason was she didn't like the idea of someone owning a piece of herself. It felt too vulnerable, too raw. But she'd do it for him.

"Tapestries are more for stoner teens who carved out some of the drywall to hide their bongs." She teased, laying back down fully on her blanket, arms going back behind her head as she listened to the sound of the waves breaking below. It was the soundtrack of their time together, really, and Mackenzie couldn't help how the comfort and familiarity had her body relaxing into the stone beneath her. "Oh I know. Pyro." She mused, laughter escaping her lips at the tone of his voice. Though it easily died down as he continued and she found herself both nodding along and rolling her eyes. "Maybe I'll just step in a bunch of paint and run across a canvass for you." She teased, head turning to look at her brother with a crooked grin. "No, I can make you something. Might take a bit, you know my process is... unconventional. But I got you. Just get me the dimensions, yeah? So it's not too small or ends up not fitting on the wall where it's supposed to go."

With her hands moving off of the blanket to feel the ground beneath her, Mackenzie picked up a small rock and tossed it over the ledge, closing her eyes and focusing as she listened for the 'thunk' she knew the stone would make as it fell into the ocean. "In the mean time, I have a bunch of canvases I need to get rid of. Half finished and finished ones. Think we could do another bonfire with 'em soon?"

[spliinters]

shady flinches at her touch, so absorbed in the sound of the ocean, by the darkness outcast in front of them, that he'd momentarily forgotten that he even had a body. " yknow, i heard once that referring to something as a hobby is what makes it a hobby. " fingers dig into the rocky soil beneath him, if only to ground himself again. " people have these like ... labels for themselves. an artist is an artist because they make art. they identify with it. a surfer is a surfer. they don't just go surfing. " oaken eyes search for the shape of her in the dark, settling on her silhouette. or at least, what he could assume was. " and the idea is when you're really passionate about something enough to call yourself the title associated with it, saying its just a hobby is almost ... disrespectful ? to the practice and the effort and to yourself, i guess. " rambling was not uncommon when in the presence of the blonde.

her joke inspires an almost feral laugh to escape from him, like a child laughing maniacally. " we can call it mackenzie's first steps. like you're a baby, except its your big ass size eights. " amusement laces every word, buzzing in his chest as he lets the laughter subside. " what's the biggest painting you've ever done ? " it takes him a moment to realize that she can't see him nodding in response to her question through the dark. " you know i'm always game for a bonfire. it's like perfect fuckin' weather for it. but why don't you just paint over them ? "

[graciexmitchell]

"You mean if you became even more accomplished than you already are? Give the rest of us a chance, Shady." Head shook with faux disapproval, the fond amusement in her gaze more than enough to show she was joking. There was a hint of adoration that she couldn't keep hidden, always so impressed by him and the seemingly endless array of talents he displayed. "That's why I keep you around, y'know. Never know when the end of the world is going to happen." Quick grin was flashed his way, bright with amusement and fondness. "Not sure what I'll be able to contribute." Not entirely self deprecating, more pensive as she indulged in their make believe apocalypse. "Oh, I could be the morale booster or something - they're important, right? I have also watched so many videos on homesteading, I reckon if I can make it through the really bad bit I'd be fine."

Fingers tapped on his arm slightly, funnelling the nervous energy within her into something other than reaching up to brush the curl from his forehead. "Fine, sure, yeah. But better with you." Shoulders pulled up into a loose shrug, as though that would somehow make her words carry a little less weight. But she'd never really believed in holding in her feelings and with him honesty just seemed to flow from her lips without her really meaning it to. Maybe it was just too hard to hide that he was important to her. That every day she got to see him was somehow just better, even if the way he talked about her set something alight in her chest in an almost unbearable way. He manages to do it again, the way he didn't view her outpouring of emotions as anything negative like so many others had stirring emotions, chewing her lip slightly to stave off a new wave of tears. "You're gonna make me start all over again if you keep being so nice."

Shifting slightly on the counter, words turned more upbeat as she found herself fixated on how little he apparently cried. He really was the stronger of the two of them. "But okay, we gotta fix this 'no crying' thing. I think that's our new plan for the night, I'll break out all my saddest film choices and we'll see if we can get them flowing." Excitement grew in her tone, feeling as though she'd just struck gold with how they could kill the time before Blair came home. "Promise it actually feels pretty good, letting out whatever you keep all cooped up."

[spliinters]

" oh, is this a challenge now ? " he laughs if only to stay in full control of the situation, discomfort brewing beneath a hardy laugh like a distant storm floating in on the horizon.

at least she was distracted from cleaning, he figured, allowing himself to play with the concept of actually crying if only for her sake. a laugh rumbled in his chest, and he'll finally pull his hand away from the little cut on her ankle. " see ? all better. you're immortal. " he was gentle in the way large hands lift her from the counter top and set her back down on the ground, intentional as ever when it came to someone else's body. especially grace's. sink is turned on just to quickly wash his hands, wiping them on his pants instead of the cute little hand towel the girls had hung up. it's a subconscious example of how little he thought of himself, as though he didn't deserve to use it. " we still gotta sweep up the glass, but then i'll let you torture me with whatever sad shit you want. "

as he makes his way back down the hallway and towards the kitchen, he's careful in keeping gracie in tow behind him, dark eyes scanning the tile for any stray glass shards. " i don't know if i've ever felt good from crying, to be honest. " he squints as he recollects, as if it'd somehow make his memories clearer. when the pair enter the danger zone, he pulls a broom and dust pan out of the crevice between the wall and side of the refrigerator, already very familiar with the home's set up. one hand extends out, physically restraining the blonde from moving any closer. " hang on, i can't take any more casualties, grace. "

[softstcps]

Agatha gave only a nod, not intended to discuss the idea of revisiting the past further as it had been a comment and nothing more; amusement to be shared by those around.

"Consider it taken care of then." The blonde had never made it a secret that she thrived with the type of control her life afforded her, or the pleasures that came with the financial security she got to enjoy. Fingers moved across her phone as she texted and made a note to clear stuff with finance department of the hospital. "If you'd prefer to be taken into private care rather than this, just say the word and I'll have it arranged. Public hospitals certainly have their charm, but there is nothing wrong with more privacy than whatever this is."

The mention of visitors only gave way to a smile on her lips. Nothing wrong with coming together when times called for it. "Should I have bothered with flowers after all?" Agatha liked being on top of things. "So, who graced your bedside with their presence?" ❧ @spliinters

[spliinters]

" honestly, i've had worse. " care, he means, knowing fully well that he didn't have to explain any background information to his ex wife, seeing how privy she already was. if it weren't for the fact that the ambulance had been called by someone else on his behalf, shepherd would've likely avoided medical professionals altogether. the mc had their own medics, as well as connections to other underground-based care, and while it wouldn't have been nearly as glamorous ( nor would he have gotten the priviledge of seeing so many unexpected visitors ) he would've certainly opted for it. " and they're letting me out soon anyway. i've just got to take it easy for a while. that'll be the hardest part, i think. "

his smile mirrors hers. it's an instinct. her joy prompted his. always had always would. " well our girl came by earlier. " grin doesn't fade as he referred to their daughter. francis had yet to make an appearance, but shepherd hadn't expected him to, frankly. " and pierre actually came through for a minute ... " words trail off, feeling strange as they exit his mouth. " i was shocked he even gave me the time of day, but i guess his sister's in a room just a couple doors down. we should send her flowers, actually. i think it'd be a kind gesture. "

[pierreharrigan]

Being a Shepherd without truly being one was not what hurt Pierre, really. He'd never missed his father, multiple father figures had luckily existed in his uncles and even in Blair's father, despite not living under the same roof. That had been the most constant one; always by Blair's side at Pierre's fights, even if he couldn't stand their mother or her side of the family.

The man in front of Pierre right now was a stranger, one that Pierre sometimes still struggled to get to know.

That night when he'd found out his father wasn't the only thing he'd been missing out on, but on family dinners, seeing his two youngest siblings grow up the way he'd seen Blair grow up; being there for them. The more he looked at Bailey, the hardest it was for him to understand what motivated his father and what had made him abandon every child he'd ever had.

"She's been through worse," Pierre didn't elaborate, for some reason, opening up wasn't as easy with the older man. Even for someone as open as Pierre. The frown in his face made him shake his head, not really wanting to talk about his mother with the man that had abandoned her. And maybe that was the root of it all...more than abandoning Pierre, it was his mother's suffering that he couldn't look past.

"I didn't think you'd remember her, if I'm honest." His mother, that was.

[spliinters]

there was beauty to be found in the discomfort that his eldest son prompted within his chest, for shepherd was aware of how that precise disquiet was what'd sculpted him into the god fearing man he was today. without it, he'd still be the pathetic, lost soul who'd abandoned his child in the first place. unable to keep himself in one place, to tie himself to others. it's a full circle moment that pierre was the catalyst for further growth now, in this minute.

" of course i remember her. " shepherd revealed, tone soft like honey coated his throat. how could he not ? while the male idolized his family, and had fallen madly in love with agatha not far after he'd skipped out on pierre's mother, the horrors of what he'd done to her still painted the back of his eyelids most every night. even if it only reared its head for just a split second, guilt had woven itself into shepherd's very existence. it'd feel strange to experience a single moment without the underlying leftovers of his younger self.

" i think about her more than you could ever realize. " he doesn't reveal more, fearful that it'd be cruel. " especially when i was locked up. " shep cleared his throat, unable to look directly at the other male, and instead choosing to settle his gaze on his shoes. did they wear the same size ? " i wrote her letters, you know. but they were always returned. i hadn't realized you'd moved to the south. " who didn't he write letters to, really ? everyone except pierre. not because he didn't think the boy would've wanted them ( which was likely true ) but more as a form of self inflicted punishment for himself. clearing his throat, he made one request, emitted from his aching throat like a leak. " tell me about her. "

[dadivosos]

even pierre had seen him , as awkward as it may have been he still saw how weak he ended up. he couldn't help but think about his imprisonment , did he ever feel weak ? did he ever cry ? did he ever miss francis ? dozens of letters sit unopened in a small decorative box shoved in the back of his closet , maybe the answers were there but he refused to open that wound.

he doesn't remember the last time he willingly went to go see his father , he usually had to be forced or dropped off without knowing where he was going but , maybe this was a sign he was growing up. he tensed up as the other approached , " fruit's good for you , " well knowing the other probably survived off of frozen meals and cheap beer. he let out a sigh as he finally turned to face the other , finally seeing the other eye to eye. as a child he always wanted to be as big and as strong as his father , admiring him every waking second but that was years ago. " its a get well basket , " he said. " teddy's idea , " he added just in case the other misinterpreted that the gesture was actually his own idea. " i didn't add pears in case you didn't like them , they're stupid fruit anyway. "

[spliinters]

teddy's idea. he thinks, of course it was. how like her to move through her brother, to set her sibling and patriarch up like a two opposing military parties and pray that they didn't blow each other up. shepherd was unarmed, metaphorically at least, but he knew better than to push his son's obvious boundaries too roughly, lest he get burned. he didn't have the energy for it all nowadays anyway. sometimes, secretly, shep was thankful that he hadn't been around for those angst-ridden teen years. surely they would've torn each other apart.

" damn. pears are actually my favorite. " it's a joke, lips pressing into a satisfied line as he ogled the basket's contents. the gesture means more to him than anything wrapped in the cellophane, though he can't help but to dream up some comedic version of a bailey shepherd specific gift basket : expensive rye, fresh rolling tobacco, a pile of scratch off lottery tickets. maybe a bible, more so for the irony than any real value. he actually preferred his religious texts to come used, often stopping into used book stories to check out their ( minimal ) christian reading sections. unknown to even himself, this preference stemmed from a desire for authenticity, to feed off a faith that was fully real, unlike his own.

he picked the basket up as if to test the weight of it. without so much as looking towards his son, he posited an offer. " you wanna come in ? just for a minute ? i found somethin' of yours packed away in a box when i was going through the garage a couple weeks ago. "

[oflifelincs]

His demand had a singular eyebrow raising as her eyes narrowed and head tilted to the side ever so slightly. He may be her boss and he may also hold the majority of the power in their dynamic, but neither of those things mattered when they were together like this. Like this she was in charge, and she wasn't quite ready to relinquish her control— especially now that she knew what was waiting for both of them when she did.

"Sounds like you need to be reminded of your manners." She countered while depositing her phone face down and back to it's original spot on the dresser. Sami chose to ignore his request and instead walked back over to him, climbing back onto the bed and straddling his waist as her hands went beneath the shirt he'd pulled on just moments ago to allow her nails to drag down his chest— the pressure enough to leave angry red marks along his skin in their wake. "But because I'm feeling generous and well and thoroughly fucked thank you, I'll give you one opportunity to remember on your own. Do you want to try that again?"

[spliinters]

sami had, without a doubt, proved she was very versatile in the many uses she had. she provided an excellent outlet for the male's stress, but her tongue was pointed enough to regularly keep him on his toes both in and out of the bedroom. though he'd never admit such a thing, if he'd been a normal man with a typical life, ambrose would've considered pursuing the girl more genuinely than whatever arrangements they had now. then again, a normal man with a typical life would've never acquired the power to attracted a girl like samiye demirci in the first place.

in the present moment, she morphs into the distraction — it's one of his favorites of her many personas. she moves with grace, returning to him in the bed. he aligns his hips with the back of her thighs, adjusting beneath her so he can gaze upwards with admiration. a worshipper at the throne of something far beyond himself.

he holds her gaze for an extended moment, brows lifting as if to challenge the authorization she wielded over his mind and body. darkened eyes don't dare break away as her fingers rake down his torso, lips parting with the delicious discomfort it prompted. revelry itself seeped from his mouth like a secret. goosebumps appeared on his skin. " i think you'll have to explain my misstep to me. " his own hands take residence against the soft round of her thighs, thumbs pressing against protruding hip bones. " you've captivated my better judgement. " a deep sigh leaves him, hungry eyes raking over her visage before settling on her expression again. " teach me how you want to be spoken to. "

[lottiesaab]

A roll of her eyes was all the indication that her co-leader needed to understand that she had no kid gloves on for their current meeting. In public, where it mattered, Lottie would remain on Ambrose's side, that was something she'd never let on. Now, behind closed doors, as supportive as she would and has been, she will expect nothing but excellence from him.

No matter what he's going through.

"No, I can't. Because it's ugly and it's annoying me personally. It's almost offensive." There was amusement laced in her words, but the way she stared back at him was nothing if not calculated.

Though the two of them often found ways to hash out their differences, they were opposites where it truly mattered, Lottie ignored his body language and continued to push, or rather simply didn't bother to hide. If he needed to hear it from someone, she'd rather it was her. "What's more important than you acting like you actually belong here and aren't spiraling?" Again, perception mattered. He knew that, so she wasn't buying his act.

[spliinters]

there is a sibling-like dynamic to their quarreling. it's rooted in understanding, as if they were both raised and reared by the same rough pair of hands. in many ways they had been, figuratively speaking — two kids molded in a corporate god's image, encrusted with white gold and blood-colored jewels, if only to fit a role. each one's teeth was just as sharp as the other's. they fed on the different prey, but both hunted nonetheless.

" i don't see what the point is in discussing it. " there was no purpose in hiding his obvious crisis. lottie read him like a manual she already had the keys to the machine it was written about. tone is pointed, spat like daggers. " i'm fucking grieving. " not his father, but the perception of patriarch. the father/son narrative. the false ideal and false idol.

ambrose stood up, shoulders rounded and large, like an animal seeking dominance. every movement was rigid, as he shoved his chair back and moved away from the the desk. blackened eyes gazed out the top story window, towards the city. " i do belong here — i decide what does or doesn't belong here. if i want to change our image then i fucking will. if i want to grow a beard down to my god damn feet then i will. " his fist slams against the glass, radiating a painful sensation through his wrist that threatened to traverse the rest of his frame until he no longer could stand. knees wanted to badly to buckle under the weight of his mourning, but he leaned further into the window frame to keep himself upright. lottie would not see him lose himself. not yet.

[ccxcorioni]

Nolan's firm with Ambrose Jow @spliinters

Knowing their schedule inside out was part of what made her so good at her job, so when Ambrose Jow walked through the door her eyebrow raised slightly. Not quite surprise but curiosity in the glance she spared him before she began sorting through the files on her desk once more, customer service voice kicking in after a few moments. “Mr Jow.” Loud enough for her boss to hear through the slightly ajar door that they had an unexpected guest. “What can we do for you?” Expression remained relatively neutral, managing to resist the urge to point out that he didn’t have an appointment. Blunt as she was she wasn’t stupid, she knew the main players all too well and antagonising a man who could wield more power than she ever could would likely only end one way.

[spliinters]

" you can cut the act, if you'd like. " palms are placed on the desk between them, body leaning in with a certain confidence, as if the firm itself was one of of his own establishments. ( ambrose makes a mental note that the network would likely benefit from dabbling in law, especially if it meant they could offer day jobs to some of the employees who made their real money in the dark. ) " i am here on business, but there's no need for formality. i'd much rather experience the real you than the service desk version. " rich brown hues trace her facial features, the curvature of her jawline, the pointed stature of her shoulders, but the inner cogs of his mind were whirring with a plan. " i'm here to pick up an official copy of my father's estate plan. his funeral is next week and i'm in need of an executor for a formal reading of his will. the previously appointed one seems to have ... perished a few years ago. " like a story-teller, he weaves a narrative, gaze never leaving her.

[benitonieves]

"Since when do you like me to begin with?" Benito countered with an arched brow, playful challenge in his voice as he looked up at her as she stood before him. Despite the humor in his voice, the detective was under no impression that there was anything fond between them, anything even remotely other than transactional in their future -- if this even went on for much longer.

If it wasn't for her looks, her skills in bed, Benito would have dropped her from his life a long time ago -- but perhaps it was that mutual loathing that fed into the desire, the entertainment, the way it fed into his most carnal desires while knowing there was no chance at anything sparking between them other than disgust,.

Legs parted wider in a subconscious effort to let her step between them, eyes trailing over her body as she came closer. "Mmh, that's probably the asbestos underneath it going right to your brain." He countered with a chuckle, meeting her eyes once more. The command instinctively made him bite the inside of his cheek, defiance swelling up in his chest -- but, nevertheless, he was impatient, and the less time he had to spend in this room at the end of it the better.

He stood then, eyes never leaving Griselda's, only a sliver of space between their bodies. Fingers pinched the hem of his shirt, bringing it up and over his head before quickly discarding it onto the floor -- fuck, he'd need to bathe that in bleach later. "You next." He said, bare shoulders, chest squaring up as he looked down at her now. "Or are you gonna make me have to rip it off myself?"

[spliinters]

the male was the epitome of everything griselda hated, laid bare and vulnerable in all his wretched, bootlicking glory. half-lidded eyes trace the many tattoos that cover him, and for a moment, she can get lost in his visage. it's enough to inspire a twist of her stomach, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping past parted lips as she leaned further into the headspace required to play pretend.

" maybe i'm just like this, bj. no asbestos necessary. shouldn't you be better at reading people, officer ? " as she diminished the space between their mouthes, she let out a giggle, mischievous but genuine. " oh my god. haven't you seen like, countless dead bodies ? what's a little black mold to a five-oh like you ? grow up. " there's no doubt that he can feel the heat of her breath, but she pulls away again, turning around to face completely away from him. she makes a show out of pulling a fitted tee shirt over her head, long dark hair cascading down her now exposed back. ( bras were not her kind of thing, and seemed especially pointless in this kind of situation. ) a sort of hum thrums in her chest, self satisfaction personified.

she looks back at him over a slender shoulder, eyebrow lifted. loose fit jeans hang low on her hips, as a mountain's valley spanning between her exposed lower back up to her shoulder blades. " do you like when i make a little show of taking off my clothes ? " she turns towards him again, threading the fabric of her top between her fingers before flinging it in his direction. " should i really drag it out ? give you more time to develop mesothelioma ? you'd be so sexy with an oxygen mask. "

[staincdvermillion]

were all firefighters like him? did they just stand there, staring? it made her worry that she had something on her face. like a piece of gummy worm that had gone astray. and as the seconds ticked by, zehra fought her want to reach a hand up. to wipe at her mouth, cheeks, chin. wherever that stray gummy piece could have gotten to. until he finally spoke, with some question she didn't outright understand. brows creased for a moment, before she laughed. " no, i don't know any chief. " she gave a shake of her head, before she picked out a gummy worm for herself.

" are you a firefighter here? " the answer seemed obvious. but zehra also knew how some things weren't as they appeared. and he had become an object of fascination, which had led her down a path of uncovering bits and pieces of information. but now she needed outright answers. she needed confirmation of what she had found. and what she now knew. " they aren't alive, you know? " she said, as her gaze flicked down to the bag. " you can just grab one. or two. or more, if you want. "

[spliinters]

" oh ? " the more was revealed to him about the stranger, the less shayden seemed to understand about what she was doing at the station in the first place. it's counterintuitive, but he swallows the discomfort it inspires. how strange to be in the place he often felt the most in control, yet overcome with enough confusion to dampen his confidence. " i am, yes. " cue an awkward pause as he deliberated how to proceed. " i appreciate the hospitality but you can't be in here. you gotta take your worms outside. this is private property. " the comment constitutes the slightest uptick of a smirk, but his voice is unwaveringly serious. " you know that, don't you ? " assurance began flooding back to him, approaching her closely enough that he could physically escort her out of the building if need be. though, he hoped it wouldn't get to that point. " can i help you with something ? i'm sure you didn't end up in here by accident. "

[alixharrigan]

FOR: @spliinters ( my fav girl ) LOCATION: zero day casino

The pile of chips clattered their way across the felt in perfect sync with Alix’s laughter, loud and unrestrained. Betting it all on red had actually worked - thanks to their little act as psychic oracles paying off better than even Alix had expected. She could’ve sworn the guy three seats down looked convinced enough they were actually possessed to fold his hand. "Oh my god, Gris, I told you the ancestors were screaming red in my third eye!" she shrieked, remaining entirely committed to the bit while nearly bouncing in her heels as she scooped up a fistful of chips and flung a couple theatrically in Gris’s direction. "Now we need two things: another drink, and a way into the high rollers room." Her grin widened, blue eyes alight with mischief. "And you still can't check your phone before we hit five figure wins." The device that was very much still held hostage in her purse as a measure against the ex boyfriend freshly outed by the Hollow fiasco.

[spliinters]

in griselda's mind, alix lived in a bubblegum castle smack dab in the middle of candyland. that was to say, her life was sugary sweet and her lies were that much sweeter. whenever the pair spent time together, gris found herself walking the line of playing pretend and and embracing absolute lunacy. today, they were leaning towards the latter.

" i mean, i know the staff. the highroller room has a kickass view of the casino too. " she spoke quieter than alix — a force of habit to act under the radar, to carefully craft the perception that others would undoubtedly make of her. the girls were similar in this aspect, griselda operating from behind the scenes while alix was the front. " come with, " the brunette squealed, yanking her friend behind her with the spontaneous energy of a teenage girl, abandoning the table as if their win meant nothing. " they'll buy us drinks if we tell 'em we're looking for a sugar daddy. " in truth, the erratic behavior was a great distraction from checking in with her ex, from zooming in on his life. ( or anyone's life, besides her own. )

[staincdvermillion]

gris and cassio had always been the same, so similar in all that they did. two sides of the same coin. two little devils perched upon an individual's shoulder. they had grown accustomed to games, of playing with those around them. of giving in to so much that others turned away from. so it shouldn't have been a surprise for cassio to have become something akin to her prey. a target for her to pry into, even if that came at the expense of tommy. who had clearly been her end goal, the main target of her sleuthing into the darkest corners of the web. and what she had found was something that cassio hadn't known. hadn't yet been told by the man who had all but moved into the private home with him.

a part of him bristled at the taunting from the woman that knew him all too well. that knew how he would want to know this information. that he would press, and press. and press. until she finally relented the information to him. the knowledge that had otherwise been withheld from him. but, at what cost? would she push back, want something in exchange for what she knew? or would she be kind, and give it to him without further taunting?

as the question lingered, cassio feigned a look of disinterest. all while she curled in closer, as her hand rested familiarly on the curve of his arm. his gaze watched her, fixed her with a questioning look. if only because she had uttered those few more words that tangled within his thoughts. five years, a long time. an amount of time that seemed worthy of being shared. or rather, expected to be shared with the man that now shared a bed. " are you going to tell me without payment? or do i need to pull out my check book? " poorly teased words, if only because cassio couldn't shake the want to know what had caused tommy to spend five years in jail.

[spliinters]

" oh please, " griselda half-scoffed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. she didn't need to hack cassio in order to see right through the feigned nonchalance he was attempting to counter with. in ordinary circumstances, if she'd been playing this kind of long, drawn out game with someone else, she'd have been exhilarated by such a response. to have such an affect on someone else purely by sharing information, therefore absolving her of any actual wrong-doing, was a drug all on it's own. ( too bad someone like tommy had never tried it. perhaps it would've saved him a lot of heartache. )

but it is cassio who sits before her. not some deserving local criminal. not an enemy of the state. not her usual preferred prey. he isn't a target, just caught in collateral damage, pretending the shrapnel now lodged in his heart had been there the whole time.

she crawled closer to him, shifting her weight so she was sitting on her legs, palms of her hands bracing against his thigh, offering balance as she loomed in. " hey, " she began, voice honeyed, " it's okay to feel weird about not knowing. " amber eyes sink into his in an attempt to soothe him further, though there's something unsettling about the power she still exudes. " i'm telling you because i care about you, cassio. it's fun to tease you, but i want you to be careful. they busted him for the same kind of shit you make a living off of. " shoulders bow together the further in she leans, offering a calculated glimpse down the front of her shirt. " you ever let him drive your car ? i wouldn't. that's how they got him. " in truth, griselda didn't have all the details of the precise incident that'd initially gotten tommy in trouble with the law, but she was skilled at painting a picture. whether or not it was based on truth was another story.

" guess he got so fucked up he crashed into someone, and when they busted him he had so much dope in the car that they got him for intent to sell too. kinda fucked up, isn't it ? it's like his tragedy was built off all your weak spots. " one tantalizing hand darts out to brush a piece of hair just above the male's ear. it required all her strength not to just straddle his hips by this point, but she knew what she was doing. her body could be just as deadly a weapon as her awareness. " like, he knows you, doesn't he ? i can't believe that he wouldn't tell you about that part of himself when it so clearly mirrors what you've been through with the accident and everything. and with the drugs like ... that really puts you at risk. "