exsassins - Tumblr blog

[exsassins]

she saw that coquettish reply coming from a mile away. the scoff of a laugh is her immediate response, the second is a silence, her turning her head away, nails tapping against the wood of the table separating them. she wasn't disinterested. the opposite, in fact. but she couldn't let that be known so early on. men like max liddell she suspected—-no, knew liked the chase. when gaze finds his again, his jacket has slipped past his shoulders. connecting the dots makes her mouth draw upward again, fingers fidgeting with her rings like she's shy. "i guess i could deal with that."

the comment on his endeavors with the casino's other patrons was made just to tease, see if she could make him sweat. whatever he does with whoever else has no effect on her—or shouldn't, anyway. another laugh comes at his comment. not in the form of a scoff, but a short & breathy sound, loud enough to actually be heard. "you were. for a moment." she'd thought about it when the mood struck, oftentimes in the evenings; how his arms had wrapped like vines around her midsection right before she slipped away. how the thudding of her heart had reached all over. this is one more thing she doesn't mention. "i'm not," she says, smiling. "i am judging you for how long it took you to do something about it."

"Oh, I can think of plenty," he answers with a cheeky raise of his eyebrows, chasing the elusive ghost of her smile, "But for most of my ideas, we'd have to be sitting a lot closer than this." Max had initially taken the seat on the opposite side of the booth as a means of hedging his bets - there was every chance that Taís would repeat her instruction to 'fuck off', and if she had, he would've gone without argument. Now though? He finds himself regretting his decision, and as he notices the way she's shivering, he's inspired to action, beginning to shrug out of his jacket.

He doesn't dispute what she says - what would be the point? Anyone who has even a passing acquaintanceship with Max Liddell knows his reputation, his insatiable (and unapologetic) appetite for all the things that make life worth living. It's just a matter of how much those people are willing to forgive, in the name of getting anywhere near him.

"I was wrapped up in you, for a moment there," he points out, though there's no malice in his voice. Intoxicated as he'd been that night, Max remembers with startling clarity how it felt to be pressed against her in the crush of dancefloor, and how it felt to watch her walk away from him, disappearing into thin air. It feels unfinished in a way that Max rarely experiences, and he tells himself that that's the reason she's been playing on his mind. "You surely can't blame me for noticing you?" For continuing to notice her.

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John Green & David Levithan, Will Grayson, Will Grayson // @sweatermuppet // Jamaica Kincaid, The Autobiography of My Mother // Entropy, "Luck" // Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait In Letters // @100493503004422 // I'm Not a Good Person—Pat The Bunny // Veronica Roth, Insurgent

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it's  dark  when  they  step outside  and,    as  it  so  often  is  in  london—-humid.   a  part  of  taís  is  grateful  that  they  can’t  see  the  way  her  hair  frizzes.     a  nothing  thing  to  others,     but  a  catastrophe  to  a  woman  like  her,     always  put  together.     she  reaches  up  with  her  free  hand  to  attempt  and  smooth  it  out.     at  the  inquiry, the  movement  of  her  wrist  halts.     she  would’ve  preferred  that  they  remain  strangers.     she  wouldn’t  have  to  lie,    then.     despite  being  good  at  it,    a  bonafide  expert  in  fact,     she  spent  most  of  her  days  telling  untruths.    

a  break  would  have  been  nice.

”nothing  nearly  as  exciting  as  what  you  do,    baby.     i  do  have  a  bachelor’s  in  psychology,    though.”     a  beat,    a  sigh,    as  if  she  truly  is  dreading  the  blandness  of  her  faux  career.      “i’m  an  investment  advisor.    i’m  currently  working  with  the  red  rose  casino,   which—is  about  as  fun  as  you  would  imagine.”     they  can’t  see  it,    but  taís  strains  a  smile.      “we  closing  in  on  that  nice  flat  of  yours?”    

There’s some little excited pang in their chest when they can tell it’s not just Taís affecting Val, but also vice versa. In usual company, they’re a charming little flirt. She’s just managed to get them a bit breathless. At a loss for words… an incredibly good thing, but new in many ways.

Still, Val is eager. Can feel her stir from her spot and they’re up as well. The blurry beige color moves and the lights make it harder for them to ascertain where exactly she is- but Val’s fingers find a tether in the crook of her arm and they let her lead them out of the bar.

All the while, they’re nearly hip against hip. A hand squeezing her upper arm, leaning. “What d’you do, love?” Val realizes they know nothing about her - only that she’s beautiful, and interested. Perhaps in the past that would be enough. But they’d like a bit more, even just to flavor the evening.

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Favorite thing about your son?

it's  disgustingly  sappy,  how  her  face  immediately breaks  into  a  smile;  the  kind  of  smile  that  only  simón  and  the  talk  of  him  is  able  to  bring  out.   “you’re  only  letting  me  pick  one?”  there’s  a  pause.  this  really  is  a  thing  she  has  to  think  about—rummage  all  the  endless  options  and  still  somehow  choose  the  singular.  “he  can  be  really  kind.   he’s  the  kind of  kid  who  would—and  has  helped  an  elderly  person  cross  the  street.  and  you  should  see  how  he  gets  with  much  younger  kids.  it’s  not  a  chore  to  him,  getting  into  their  games  or  listening  to  them  ramble  on  about  something  incomprehensible. he's great with animals, too.”  taís  pauses  again,  smiles.  “almost  makes  me  wish  that  i’d  given  him  a  sibling.  but,  y’know.  if  he  chooses  to  have  kids,  he’ll  make  a  great  dad.”

ASK ROMI. | ASK TAÍS. | ASK CHEL.

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What are the top 3 scents you gravitate towards the most?

eyes closed, a deep inhale through her nose. she's clearly remembering something, or rather----someone. "hm." eyes blink open again. as much as she tries, taís can't fight the smile off her face. "when it comes to other people, my favorite notes are patchouli, leather and cardamom----apple." a beat. she straightens, slightly. "for myself... plum, vanilla, amber, musk."

ASK ROMI. | ASK TAÍS. | ASK CHEL.

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What was your first thought when you found out you were having a kid?

"fuuck."

ASK ROMI. | ASK TAÍS. | ASK CHEL.

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X (2022), Ti West

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"---oz." the forced company could've been worse. taís' head cranes to the side, some semblance of a smile twitching in the corners of her mouth as he speaks. "right. a shame. feel free to let me know if you change your mind." the sentence finishes with a look, which lingers. past him, a woman raises her fists in the air and squeals. taís feels overcome by a surge of bitter rage, only visible in the way her jaw locks.

this feeling---ice cold and white hot at the same time results in a moment of silence, on her end, attention pulled into a line of thought about what could have been, had she not, etcetera; the mindless fun she missed out on.

finally, a shake of her head. it feels like every bit of air in her lungs expel when she sighs. "i think i would prefer the latter, if you don't mind. or a distraction, if you can think of one besides liquor."

Oz isn't exactly sure why the woman's so miserable. He's pushed his wheelchair closer to the booth only to be given a very fun but sadly currently impossible task. "Tempting, but you know that's not really my thing any more." Well. Sometimes it is. Not every interrogation goes so smoothly, after all. But he doesn't have any weapon on him - the casino likes to check for those things. Disappointing.

He rolls himself closer, so he can set his drink on the tabletop and join her. "What's going on?" Oz asks. His gaze has settled into a general interest. He can see her drink is untouched, and the spark in her eyes is absent. More telling than anything else. "Do I want to know, if it's got you like this? Or would you rather just have someone else wallow with you?"

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help----the sentiment is appreciated, enough for her to spare him another reticent smile. she spends a moment quietly considering his offer; what he may be willing to do, just to cheer her up. but her foul mood cuts those thoughts off at the stem, creativity for any such demands thrown quickly out the window. "clever man like you, i'm sure you can think of something."

he leans forward, carries forth more cold air and a whiff of his scent along with it. apples, leather and an undertone of cigarettes, of loneliness. the skin of her forearms becomes decorated by goosebumps. she shivers. "i figured you'd be too busy. you're always wrapped up in something when i see you. in someone." the stolen glances across the casino's floor go unmentioned. so do the rumors of his hedonistic ways, and the burst of warm electric that his hands had caused that one night they danced together.

It's enough, the soft huff of not-quite-laughter disturbing the black cloud that hangs above Taís's head, even if it isn't dismissed entirely. Max doesn't expect her to tell him anything of her troubles, they don't know each other like that, but perhaps he can take her mind off them all the same. "Mm, familiar and sympathetic," he replies, as if he isn't the leading cause of drama within his own family, "Anything I can do to help?"

When she questions the drink, Max smiles at her, leaning forward in his seat. "You sound surprised. You think I haven't been paying attention?" To her, the most beautiful woman in this room, and many others besides? She who wraps the ill-fated gamblers in this casino around her little finger, whose smile could make a man throw down his life savings on a game of chance, her eyes full of the promise that today just might be your lucky day? It might have been months since the last time he saw her, but Taís Morelos isn't the sort of woman you forget.

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the impression a civilian might have, completely separated from the city's underbelly, might be that criminals like the ones she surrounded herself with ( that she was, herself ) would care very little for anyone but themselves. on occasions like this, she found herself wishing that were the case. she also wished for a better pokerface, but alas.

smoothing out the lines in her face is like attempting to straighten out a balled up, crinkled sheet of paper. taís' feelings remain tethered there, clear as day to anyone who'd spare her a glance. "eh." she waves a hand in the air, shrugs a shoulder. "não é importante, guilherme. não se preocupe comigo. don't you have work to do?"

The casino's not home to the distraction he sought to find. Leisure turned to business before long ( he hadn't even finished half of his drink before he had to swallow the first work-related query dry ). The presence spotted in the darkest booth of the establishment doesn't bode well for his original plans here, either.

Then again: he had no plans upon entering — other than to idle for a change. He's incapable of it apparently, and so he approaches at length, damning the remainder of his time to himself in favour of sleuthing. What could possibly cast such glumness onto the pillar of strength supporting the Jabberwocks' skeletal frame? ❛  Nossa — what's eating at you, boss?  ❜

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⟨ débora nascimento. cis woman. she / her. thirty8. ⟩ we just saw  taís morelos  entering the  THE RED ROSE CASINO.   i heard through the grapevine that their loyalties lie with  THE JABBERWOCKS  and that they also go by  THE EMPRESS.  be careful, they work for them as a CAPO TO THE DRUG DEALERS  and can sometimes be blunt,   deceptive,  or even resentful but i’ve also heard some people say that they were  persuasive, observant  and quite loyal. —  beanie. she / they. 25. gmt+1. bird images

dependent roleplay blog, affiliated with london falling.

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his playing manages to pull a scoff out of her. it isn't a laugh, but it's something; a side note to her misery. he inquires into what it is--naturally, but taís remains tight lipped. gives pause, eyes momentarily scanning the room around them before traversing back to him. at worst, he'd serve as an annoyance. at best, actual entertainment. either way, it's a well-needed distraction.

a breeze of cool air wafts through. she shudders, shifts in her seat, and finally replies: "family drama. i'm sure you're familiar." the rumors surrounding the liddells swirled around london like a tornado. it'd touched just about everyone in the red rose. tilt of the head, stare narrowing. her mouth shapes a half-smile. "you were the one who ordered this for me?" her index taps the glass, pointedly. "you knew i drink whiskey neat."

The Red Rose isn't exactly Max's favourite haunt in London. It all just feels a bit close for him (more-so than even the Rabbit Hole), the offices upstairs invariably containing at least one member of his immediate family, and the staff downstairs keeping an ever-watchful eye on what he chooses to put into his body over the course of an evening. In fact, there's only one real advantage the casino has over any other watering hole in the city, and she's sitting right in front of him.

"Oh, well I am here to kill you, so that's lucky," is Max's glib reply as he arrives at Tais's table, slipping into the booth opposite without being invited to do so, "Though I see you haven't touched the drink I so thoughtfully poisoned. What's the matter?"

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further, not yet skin to skin, her hand climbs up the fabric; the back of it so close to their side that she can feel the warmth that their body radiates. whatever this is building towards, they're so close to it's accumilation that she can taste it. their scent on her tongue. her mouth waters.

the hand comes to rest on a part of her that works like a button. press it, and she goes soft. becomes malleable. like muscle memory connects to some sensation in her past that plays with the chemistry in her body. maybe it's pre historical. maybe it's the booze. taís leans into it; rubs her face into the palm of their hand like a cat, eyes closed. "mhm," comes agreement, a nod. she'd promise just about anything, being touched like that.

eventually, she disconnects. or reconnects, rather. plugged back into the socket, eyes flutter open---locking on them. "i think you're right about that. but don't worry, anjo. i reward good behavior." still in their space, a hand reaches to put bills on the counter. the other squeezes their side, fingers pressed into flesh. "let's go."

A shiver down their spine, as the hand has found their hip, and the soft linen shirt that hangs off their lithe frame. Teases to slip beneath, which Val can feel their own warm skin calling out for. But Taís is a master of leaving someone wanting - and it only makes Val wonder if they're getting into something they shouldn't be.

Still. "Free spirits, a nice bed... comfortable flat..." Val reaches, and finds her chin. Lets their thumb glide over it and along her jaw. "Is that a promise? Just t'make sure, I think it's only fair... some gorgeous person at a bar taking advantage of me..."

Val feels the whisper just as much as they hear it. Turns their head while she's that close, so their lips brush her nose and just barely her lips. "By the way y'talk, I think I'm the one who has t'be good for you, darling. Is everything paid for? Maybe we should get lost."

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Eyes Wide Shut (1999) dir. Stanley Kubrick

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"uh---pepito." she smiles as she says it, remembering the moment it'd been given to him. early morning, late august, back when simón was just ten years old. taís had made the mistake of promising that he would be allowed to name the first pet they got. pepito, after the brand of biscuits he loved. the kid had grown out of almost everything he used to like, but those had remained a favorite; a trusted last resort when nothing else seemed to cheer him up.

"thank you, sir." she notes that his touch isn't particularly gentle. in a different context, she might have appreciated it, but this is her cat. it makes her wince, instead, step forward and reach a hand out as if to stop him. that'd be a bad idea, she realizes, fingers hovering an inch away from his forearm. quietly, both her hands are tucked into the pockets of her drenched jacket.

precioso. spanish, and his voice is soft. taís can't help but smile at the sound, and at how he's so quick to contrast himself--official and almost harsh when he addresses her. seems that he picked the right profession. a nod is given in reply. there's a teasing lilt to her tone when she speaks, now. "muchísimas gracias, señor."

"What's his name ? " He's fine with calling him the cat, but people usually don't like him being accurate. A cat who didn't eat normally and couldn't use one of his legs wasn't unheard of, but he could easily conclude that one thing had nothing to do with the other, unless of course, there was a lump somewhere, then that wouldn't be a good night for her or him. Removing a cyst would take him quite some time, but if it was cancerous, it would positively break her heart, and he wasn't good at dealing with those sorts of things.

"I'll take a look," he opened the box. The cat cowered into the back of it and he had to reach into it. He had handled worse things than cats, but that didn't mean he underestimated the damage a cat could do. Fun fact you could die from getting bitten by a cat. Not that he would be so stupid not to treat his wounds, but some people were. The cat didn't protest too much once he had his hand pinching at his collar, and Javier pulled the poor animal out of his box without trouble.

"Let's take a look at you, precioso," the veterinarian cooed, though when he glanced back at the woman, he once again looked displeased. "I'll feel him for lumps," if it was something else, the cat would be hissing and protesting.

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i love you so bad but maybe it wasn't meant to be?

Caitlyn Siehl / in a dream you saw a way to survive by Clementine von Radics / @/inanotherunivrse on tumblr / pinterest / pinterest / unknown / holy ground by taylor swift / "MY NAME" (2021) / Letters of Sylvia Plath / foolish one by taylor swift