Kai Took A Moment To Look Her Over, Just For A Fraction Of A Second Longer Than Necessary, His Eyes Scanning

OPEN STARTER, OPEN TO ALL. PLOT: Becca (she/her || 24-29) called your muse after waking up covered in blood with no recollection of what happened. This can go anywhere I honestly don’t mind but if you’d like to plot it out more feel  free to message me.

Becca sat on the edge of the bed, the dingy motel room a stark backdrop. A sharp rap on the door shattered the silence, leaving her frozen, unable to speak or move. The door swung open before she could react, and they stepped inside. Their words were a blur, lost in the fog of her own shock. She stared down at her hands, crimson stains mirroring the sticky crimson clinging to her clothes. Her gaze lingered on a crust of dried blood under her nails, a silent indictment. 'I tried to wash it off,' she whispered, her voice barely a rasp, 'but I couldn't.' Finally, she met their gaze, a flicker of clarity piercing the haze of confusion. 'I don't know what happened,' she choked out, her voice laced with anguish, 'I can't remember anything.'

Rit leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the other for a moment. His voice is calm, with a touch of understanding. "Yeah, I get it. It can get a little overwhelming out there." He shifts slightly, avoiding making too much of a scene, his tone more neutral. "Sometimes it's nice to step back, take a breather."

He glances at the beer in male's hand and then back at him, shrugging a little. "Not exactly the vibe I thought I'd get from a concert, but... everyone is different, I guess."

Rit tilts his head, the corners of his mouth barely twitching. "You planning to head back out, or just... hang out here for a while?"

open to anyone!

“oh yeah… don’t mind me.” mariano sits atop the counter of a bathroom in the concert venue as he waves on a stranger towards the empty stalls. he’d saved up to come here for weeks, and it’s a little embarrassing he’s now spending the concert hiding out from the crowd. there’s thumping vibrations in the walls- the songs can be heard just as good in here, basically, if you asked him. “it’s just a bit much out there, yeah?” he sips from his lonely beer, hoping the stranger doesn’t take too much pity on him.

Plot # 64: A Hand to Hold

Closed starter | @amoonlitmemory

“Do I ask questions, or do I just help you clean up all this blood?”

Jeyda’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t move to take the mail right away. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked from the envelopes to the woman standing before him—Aylin. 4B. Too many words, too much warmth. He wasn’t used to either.

A beat passed. Then another.

Finally, he reached out, taking the stack from her hand with deliberate slowness. The legal firm's gold lettering gleamed in the sunlight, but he didn’t bother looking at it. He already knew what was inside.

His voice, when he spoke, was low, rough from disuse. "Thanks." Nothing more. No welcome, no acknowledgement of her offer. Just that.

Jeyda turned the mail over once in his hand, then tucked it under his arm. His gaze settled on her, not quite meeting her eyes but near enough. Aylin was still watching him, waiting—for what, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t have anything else to give. Not pleasantries. Not reassurances. Definitely not friendship.

Closed starter for @littledaydreamers based on this:

"Excuse me! Are you… Mr Arslan?"

Aylin held out a small stack of mail, the afternoon sun catching the gold lettering on the return address of a legal firm. "I think I might have accidentally grabbed your mail. 4A, right? I’m so sorry! I was in a rush, trying to beat the heat… and honestly, these boxes are practically prehistoric. I'm Aylin, by the way. I live in 4B." She offered a tentative smile, one practiced for calming anxious brides and soothing stressed mothers-of-the-groom.

She took a closer look at the man in front of her. He was… imposing. Tall, broad shouldered but there was an intensity in his eyes, a haunted quality that sent a shiver of unexpected concern through her. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. He didn’t speak, didn't even acknowledge her. He just stared, his eyes fixed somewhere just past her shoulder.

“Look,” she continued, her voice softening. "I really am sorry. Here." She extended the mail again, pushing it gently towards him. “I'm sure you’re expecting these. Welcome to the building. I hope you… settle in okay.”

She hesitated, a sudden impulse tugging at her. Against every ounce of self-preservation, Aylin added, "If you need anything… anything at all… please don't hesitate to knock. I'm usually home, knee-deep in tulle and seating charts, but… I wouldn’t mind a break. Just let me know if there's something I can do." And then, she waited, holding her breath, wondering if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.

"And what is this difference?" Brooke questioned, raising a brow. "Maybe I'll get you a bouquet of tulips accompanied by a box of dark chocolates as a down payment. But if you want a real thank you, I can teach you how to take care of a goldfish...Low maintenance, I promise!”

open to all! darius landon. forty three. he/him. bisexual. assassin & owner of the good company safe haven bar for criminals. son of the landon crime family.

"i'm not going to stop you from getting yourself killed." darius chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he rolled back onto the heels of his boots. "i will help you live though, if you ask really nicely. i'm partial to tulips, dark chocolate, and i can't take care of pets, but i am sure you'll find something good to thank me."

ofblcssxms​:

Mollie couldn’t help but laugh in response to his comment, arching a brow in suspicion as she peered toward him through narrowed eyes. “So it seems the lies just keep flowing.” She teased, laughing lightly once again. It was rare that she wasn’t laughing when she was with Asher, in all honesty. The two of them just got along so well that it proved difficult to be anything other than happy in his presence. Hence, why he was her first port of call should she ever have any down days. Mollie pouted as he continued on with the affectionate speech. “Stop!” She elongated the word in a childlike manner, covering her face with both of her hands adorably, in hope of hiding just how crimson her face had turned. Turning on her heel, Mollie then wandered further into the apartment before then stopping peering back toward Asher. She could tell his comment had been a buffer, a way for her to leave the subject of his arrival alone, and she had no problems in doing that. Honestly.. Mollie was just happy he was there. “I see how it is. You have no problems spooning me when we’re drunk but when we’re sober its a whole other story. I see.” The girl teased, pouting once again. 

Asher puffed his chest out as he acted shocked. “How very dare you! I can’t believe you continue to accuse me like this. I’m appalled, I really am.” He replied scoffing as he shook his head, trying to keep the smile off his face. A warm feeling settled within him, already feeling better now he was in Mollie’s presence. Things were always just so easy with them. The male laughed as she covered her face, complaining. Her embarrassment just made things even more fun. “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to tell you how much I care about you. C’mon, give me a hug, bestie.” Asher teased, laughing as he followed her further into the apartment before leaping forward, trapping her in his arms as he hugged her tightly. “I mean, I suppose I could let you share the bed with me, but only if I can be the little spoon.” He joked with a wink. 

Brooke rolled her eyes. "I was booked by the guy who runs this place. Must be bored with his strippers. I don't know, I don't deal with that shit, I just go where I'm told." She stated simply shrugging out of his grip. "It's no big deal, I've dealt with dangerous people before, relax. They only want me for one thing. They've paid for the night, so I better get back in there."

OPEN TO ×  w / m / nb  21+

PLOT × Rocco has a "meeting" at a str.p club owned by his boss that is used by gangs and the mafia to do business. He catches your muse there (they can be a visitor, new employee, whatever) and is not happy. (please assume connection it can be anything from romantic to platonic!)

MUSE × rocco sterling [36] mafia member

Rocco was enraged. Anger caused his forehead to wrinkle and his heart pounded hard against his toned chest. His hand grabbed the other person’s upper arm as he dragged them outside. ❝What the hell are you doing here? I told you a thousand times not to come to a place like that!❞

amoonlitmemory​:

“Excuse me?” Naimh whirled around to face him, her attention diverted from the original annoyance she had been arguing with as her eyes flashed in anger at the new stranger. “If I wanted your input I would have asked for it, this is no business of yours so stay out of it. Unless of course you would rather my knife be held to your gut instead of his?” A single brow arched in challenge as her gaze flicked down to her wrist where she was gripping her blade. Once again her temper and short fuse had left her in a predicament that could probably have been avoided.

Jacob raised his brow as the young woman began to complain. He suddenly regretted inserting himself into the situation. The woman obviously didn’t want help despite needing it unless she wanted the conversation to end violently. It almost certainly would, given the pirate she was arguing with was known for being hot-headed and bloody thirsty. “Y'know, most would say thank you. Do you have any idea who you were getting into a confrontation with? You may be able to look after yourself, Miss, but trust me, he is not a man you want to be fighting with.” He warned her, shaking his head as he gestured to the barkeep for another two drinks. “Now, you can sit down and have a quiet drink with me, or you can piss off – I honestly couldn’t care much either way."

Becca shook her head, a mixture of fear and helplessness written across her face. "No, it's just all over me." She had already checked the room before she called Indiana. The blonde had hoped that if she worked out where she was and looked for more blood, she could piece together what had happened, but other than the small spot she had taken up on the bed, the place was spotless.

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to recall the events leading up to the bloody discovery. "I... I'm not sure," she stammered, her voice trembling slightly. "I think I may have been walking home from work last night."

Indiana could be the best or worst person to call in an emergency, depending on his state of mind. He was loyal, that much was true, and distrusting of people he wasn’t close to, so he would always keep the other person’s secrets, work diligently to keep them safe from harm or discovery in the case that they had done something society arbitrarily decided was wrong. He was still adjusting to the real world, still figuring out the way it worked. When she called him, he didn’t hesitate to find his way to her location, the sight of blood dried on her hands and body not making him recoil the way it might most people. He’d been raised in violence, brought up to respect and appreciate death… sacrifice. Frowning, he grabbed hold of her wrists, meeting her gaze with his own. “Have you found any blood elsewhere in the room?” His eyes scanned but he could see nothing that would’ve caused this much of a mess. “This must be a secondary location.” Pausing, he tried to think of what his siblings would do in this same situation, meeting her gaze again, he inquired: “What’s the last thing you do remember?”