@bloodnose  +  nightmare  (jesse)

he can’t remember what he was dreaming about. there’s a part of him that wonders whether or not he even does dream — it feels like every morning he wakes up, he’s just as exhausted as the following night. he’s lethargic and sure, you could blame the meth — that probably has something to do with it. but part of it has to be dealing with mr. white, too. there’s only so much of his bullshit jesse can take, and dealing with it every day on end? he’s beginning to get to his breaking point. no wonder he doesn’t dream. 

but that doesn’t matter because what matters is the bed is shaking, and not in the way he prefers. instead, his eyes open right before the blonde is about to hit him dead in the face. he looks like a deer in headlights as he hazily watches her jut forward, as if she was about to fall off a cliff and just stopped herself at the last minute. he doesn’t need an iq of 100 to figure out she was having a nightmare — the sweaty outline on their bed says all he needs to know. he props himself up on his right elbow, eyes squinting as he tries to get adjusted the darkness of the bedroom. 

“cass —” his voice is a whisper, yet too casual to be deemed remotely romantic. (because they aren’t romantic. nothing about them is romantic, minus the dinners they spend together and the nights they end up making out on his couch — which jesse isn’t sure whether he likes or not. he doesn’t have to play the boyfriend role but sometimes, he wishes he did. other times, the nights he wants to be left alone, she comes over and won’t leave.) 

his left hand slowly rubs circles on the lower part of her back, watching as she tries to collect herself. it’s not until he finally sits up, chin nuzzling itself into the crook of her neck and he presses a quick kiss to her cheek. 

“hey, you’re cool — everything’s fine. don’t worry, i gotcha.” he debates whether to speak any further; their situation is already odd. he doesn’t need to complicate it any further — he has a knack for doing such things. 

Nightmares suck.   She’s experienced her fair share of them throughout her life, but for some reason, they’ve been getting worse. It’s easy to assume it’s because she’s been doing more coke than usual, but if that was going to affect anything, it should making her more sleep deprived. Instead, all she’s been wanting to do lately is crawl in bed and sleep the days away. She shows up to work, does a few lines to get her through the day and whenever she comes home, she immediately gets under the sheets of her bed. It’s becoming a cycle and she can’t pinpoint why. (She can never pinpoint anything, though. If she was talking to a therapist, they’d say you’re depressed and she’d laugh in their face, knowing damn well it’s the truth.)

One moment she’s running down the hallway screaming for her life, the next moment she’s sitting up in bed and covered in sweat. When she realizes she’s about to smack Jesse in the face, a quick fuck is mumbled softly under her breath, air expanding throughout her lungs. It’s an attempt to collect her composure. She still feels constricted in her chest, even after waking up   —   it’s almost like she’s not even awake, even though she knows she is. Jesse’s embrace doesn’t help either   —   what should be comforting is more uncomfortable than anything, it only makes her feel more constricted than she already does. It’s what causes her to throw the sheets off herself and stand up, turning the bedroom lights on as she begins shuffling to put her t-shirt and shorts on. 

“I’m not cool.”   She responses hastily, aggravated chuckles trailing closely behind her words.   “None of this is cool, actually. In fact, this is the least fucking cool thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.”   It’s an exaggeration but still close enough to the truth for her. For months, they’ve been playing this game   —   she refers to it as a game because that’s exactly what it is. It’s a game of chess, both of them awaiting for the other to make a move and to decide how they want to proceed. It’s becoming cumbersome; she’s aware they could talk about this another time, especially given the fact she’s more angry at the nightmares than at him, but right now is the perfect time in her eyes. 

@bloodnose​​  +  arrest  (miguel)

miguel knew the blonde had a knack for getting herself into trouble, but by god, he wasn’t expecting this. there was a difference between problems seeming to always follow you versus creating the problems that follow you everywhere; from their time together in high school to now, it was clear she always created the problems. 

when he arrived at the apartment complex, he was expecting to pull into a quiet atmosphere, just like every other apartment complex in all of america. instead, flashing red and blue lights lit up the area, shouts of officers to follow their rules filled what was supposed to be silence. in all honesty, miguel wasn’t even expecting to see cassandra outside — he figured he’d have to listen to her complain about the lights shining through the windows. instead, there she was, the one in handcuffs being stuffed into the backseat of a police cruiser. it took awhile to even understand what was going on in the first place, but thankfully, being a marine has its perks. possession of cocaine caught on her person — what a surprise. it’s enough to make miguel laugh through the rolled-down window of the car, head cocking to the side as he stares directly at her. (had it been any other day, he’d be furious — but of course, it has to happen on the first day back on his leave.)

“you still got that shit lawyer?” he asks smugly, watching her eyes roll as she utters something under her breath. (he swears it has to be about how they share the same shitty lawyer, but still, he can’t stop laughing. the only reason he is laughing is because he knows saul will get her off. he’s done it with penelope enough times with heavier shit than cocaine from when she used to be with henry.) arms are folded over his bulky chest, sight moving over to the officers who command him to get away from the vehicle, as they’re in the process of leaving. 

“i’ll call saul for you.” it’s breathed through a snicker, head shaking as he watches the officers roll up the window, eyes watching as the car drives off into the distance. see you in a few hours. 

She isn’t sure how long she was locked up.   If her math is right, she got picked up by the cops at around 9PM and got out of county lockup at around 4AM. She was locked up in a cell over a tiny ziplock baggie of cocaine for 7 hours. It was a comical in a way   —   she knew Miguel wouldn’t see it in that way, but she did to an extent. They could’ve been spending their time on much more important matters but instead, they were concerned with the tiny 25-year-old junkie who couldn’t hurt a fly. Real smart. 

Cassandra’s thankful he called Saul, though. She’s not sure how much longer she would’ve been in there if he hadn’t. Whenever Saul walked through the front door of any police department, all the officers were groan in unison knowing whatever charges they had planned wouldn’t last. That was the case this evening, which the blonde couldn’t have been any more thankful for. It meant she could finally go back home, crawl in bed, and get a nice night’s sleep. She wouldn’t be sitting on the cold cement ground of the a jail cell, waiting for Miguel to collect whatever money he needed to bail her out. (Or him having to call Wes or her parents to help collect the money either.)

When they open the cell and pull her out, she collects her belongings before making her way outside. Outside the entrance of the jail, she spots Miguel and Saul standing by a pillar, giving Saul a quick thank you before sending the lawyer on his way. When it’s just her and Miguel left, she lets out a relieved sigh.   “Thanks for getting me out of there.”   She chuckles, bouncing on the balls of her sneakers. She’s sure this is the last way he wanted to spend his evening, especially given it’s the first night back from being overseas for months. But that’s what happens when you’re best friends with a drug addict, right? She’s just glad he didn’t leave when he could’ve. Honestly, she wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. 

     Really, a part of him had been expecting to be DISMISSED. Not too KINDLY, he’d imagine, given the personalities in this city. Sure, there had been the odd friendly face that he’d run into, but he was quickly becoming a little more used to the MENTALITIES around there. He had mostly done his running around for Roman, meeting the people he was friends with, yet going off on his own was usually a mixed bag. So, Niko couldn’t help the slight raise of his eyebrows at her reply, the chuckle.

    “I can’t say much about American movies, but you could probably find that,” he replied around a small huff of his own. Though, her question about his eavesdropping managed to pull an actual chuckle from him, albeit a touch awkward. “Just interesting ones I hear. Sorry.”

His response makes her chuckle,   a welcomed reply from the responses she’d been getting all day. With Wesley running off and the residents of the city, she was fine with some eavesdropping and an honest response. It was better than the snark she’d gotten whenever she would ask where a certain place was.  “It’s cool   —   I’m just glad I have interesting conversations. It’s good to know I don’t bore people for future reference.”   A smile tugs at the edge of her lips as she speaks, fingers adjusting the straps of the backpack she’s sporting. 

@bloodnose​     !

finding his sister wasn’t as hard as he imagined.  she’s a creature of habit and the people she hangs around are — predictable, for a lack of a better word. they share her bad habits, they hang around the same places. so, he’s surprised to see that she isn’t at her usual spot. part of him feels a sense of relief that barbara isn’t here. he isn’t sure he’s ready to face her yet. he does, however, recognize the blonde that hangs around her. silas approaches her with a timid smile and his hands in the pockets of his black jeans and he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind —

‘ hey, i know this is weird. and i promise i’m not a fuckin’ cop or anything. but do you know where i can get some weed? ’  

She’s fairly predictable.   If she’s not at work, chances are she’s either at home or at three different spots in town. One of them happens to be an older Dairy Queen in the heart of downtown, one they couldn’t bother to renovate because they didn’t have the money. In her eyes, it was a cute spot   —   one not too many people knew about nor bothered to come to. Everyone who wandered in and out typically knew each other, some even had formed friendships with one another. She’s claimed her usual spot with her typical ice cream sundae, which has melted from the heat. Spoon in mouth, eyes on the magazine laid against the table, her attention is torn from the magazine when a unfamiliar voice seeps through her ears. 

her   mind   hasn’t   stopped   racing,   not   even   for   a   second.   not   that   anyone   could   blame   her.   almost   being   beat   to   death   would   do   that   to   you.   the   way   that   her   brother   saw   it,   she   should   still   be   in   bed   resting.   sure,   her   face   was   healed   up   to   the   point   where   makeup   could   do   the   rest   of   the   wonders   but   that   was   about   all   that’s   managed   to   heal.   her   ribs   still   ached   with   every   breath   or   if   she   moved   too   quickly.   she’s   just   learned   to   hide   it   a   little   better   from   everyone.   bartending   was   a   way   to   think   about   someone   else’s   problems,   hear   about   them.   anything   was   better   than   thinking   about   her   own   problems.   

❝   yeah,   sure   is.   sorry   about   that,   didn’t   mean   to   mess   up   your   mood.   ❞   she   can   tell.   reading   people   is   a   skill   that   she’s   picked   up   over   the   years,   something   she’s   used   much   more   often   these   last   few   weeks.   

She hated conversations like these.   The ones where they focused on problems and made her actually have to dig deep, unraveling all the emotions she’d buried six feet deep. They were typically easy to maneuver, though   —   that was the shitty part of being an emotional person: you always had something you could talk about. Fear and guilt were her best friends, always lingering on her shoulders and claiming their residence. No matter how hard she tried, she could never get them to leave her and now, she assumes it’s the same for the woman in front of her. The blonde’s not stupid, she recognizes that look on the bartender’s face   —   she’s seen it plenty of times whenever she gazes into the mirror. 

        𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 && 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒.   often she wonders what her life would be like now if cass weren’t apart of it ,  a shutter often runs down her spine at the idea━cass had become someone important to her , someone she cared about , && for the first time in a long time she felt as if the relationship was here to stay.   (  a thought in itself that brought the woman immense comfort.  never had she had such a constant , it was different.  )      hand tucks strands of hair behind her ear as she continues to gather dishes && toss trash into one of the two bins she had.   a breath is taken as riley considers her options :   a) talk to cass about what the last couple of days have been like , get the slightest peace of mind && weight off her chest or b)  spare her the nightmares or paranoia , keep it in , && continue to suffer on your own … riley knows what she 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳   do , but that’s what her mind tells her.       ;          ❝  fine ,  ❞    she says after a moment , back straightening with bin on one hand && plates with other things stacked on top in the other. eyes glance over toward her ,  hesitation in her expression , in her tone , in the way she stood.     ❝   i’ll talk to you about it.  my heart is telling me not too , but you offered so . . my brain argues why the fuck not.  ❞   a laugh is attempted , shrug to follow.     head nods toward her open bedroom door before feet walk ahead out the door , down the hall , && into the kitchen.    ❝  i’m gonna get these cleaned off && in the washer.  i’m also gonna take out this smelly ass trash , but while i do that━  ❞     dishes are dropped as gently as possible in the sink ,  trash taken from cass to be tied up.    ❝  mind putting on some   𝖈𝖔𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖊?   i feel like a walking undead , pun intended , && need some.  you might end up needing it to.  ❞    smile is flashed ,  feet leading her toward the front door.

she   wonders   ;   can   she   tell?   she’s   breaking   her   heart.   over   and   over   again.   how   kaia   would   love   to   hate   cass   for   the   rest   of   her   life,   to   shut   her   life   out   of   her   life   for   good.   but,   it’s   not   that   easy   for   her.   sometimes,   kaia   thinks   it’s   that   easy   for   cass   though.   easy   for   her   to   just   walk   away,   even   after   everything   they’ve   been   through.   she’s   done   it   before,   left   her   when   she   needed   her   the   most.   it’s   something   that   kaia   hasn’t   been   able   to   forget,   much   less   forgive.   she   needed   her   and   she   left   her.   it’s   something   she   won’t   ever   really   understand.   but,   she’s   willing   to   try.   

frustration   builds   in   her   the   more   cass   talks.   she’s   apologized   before,   kaia’s   heard   this   all   before.   it’s   just   the   question   of   whether   or   not   she’s   willing   to   let   her   back   in   her   life.   dark   hues   flicker   over   her   features,   inhaling   a   small   breath.   there’s   a   moment   that   she   hesitates   before   taking   large   steps   towards   the   other   woman,   allowing   her   lips   to   meet   hers.   

It takes her a few seconds to recognize what’s happening.   When Kaia’s lips press against hers, it’s almost like a taste of heaven   —   as if the gate has opened and the opera is singing, her sins being washed away. It’s magical and yet, it leaves a lingering odd feeling in her gut. Why kiss me now of all times? She questions it over and over, trying to wrap an answer around her head. That’s the thing, though: she’s beginning to wonder whether there’ll ever be an answer. For them, maybe this is just their path. Tears, heartbreak, agony   —   maybe it took all those events to happen for them to finally reach the end of the road: this second in time.

@bloodnose  //  dialogue starter call .  

    Niko hadn’t really meant to EAVESDROP on the conversation. Yet, with how close it had been to him, along with how suddenly it happened, it was hard to MISS. Reading over a text message on his phone, Niko still found himself glancing up as things seemed to settle. He knew he should just move on, and yet…

    “You have to give him credit for his imagination.”

When her brother had suggested a trip to Liberty City,   this isn’t what she had in mind. She expected some sightseeing, maybe a trip to the Statue of Happiness   —   anything but Wesley wandering off and abandoning her in Middle Park, probably to score some drugs while coming up with an elaborate story on why she should come with him. It started off as it’ll be fun, getting high in a weird place which transpired into what if you get mugged, stabbed in the head, and left to die in the cold streets to become a meal to cannibals. Junkies had creativity when it came to their potential scenarios.