muses and things
Elliott
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Lydia
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hello vonnie
ojovivo
noise dept.

Product Placement
RMH
cherry valley forever

if i look back, i am lost
Not today Justin
🪼

titsay
wallacepolsom

he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

izzy's playlists!
$LAYYYTER
occasionally subtle

Origami Around

Kaledo Art
will byers stan first human second
Keni

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@nctawarricr
muses and things
Elliott
About. Pinterest. Instagram. Spotify. Wanted Connections.
Lydia
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Location: Lydia's place of work Status: Closed @nctawarricr
Neo was not doing well, not in the slightest. He never knew how much it would hurt to watch his ex walk away again. This time it hurt more, because he couldn't throw himself into work. He wasn't in the milatary anymore to distract him. He had to stay here, and continue to provide for their children. Lydia was the case worker assigned to him when he first got Paisley and the two stayed in touch, she checked in and helped from time to time, set him up with resources. But now he had two kids to provide for when he was barley making ends meet on his own with just one. He found himself walking into her office, with a kid on each hip. "Thanks for taking me last minute." He said with an exhale as he took a seat and adjusted the kids to be sitting on his lap. "I need fucking help man. I'm drowning, I'm exhusted and I don't know what to do."
Seeing Neo's name on her roster was a surprise, though not a shock. Given everything that's been happening in the city it seemed everyone needed someone to talk to— including her. However, it takes all of her training to reserve the shock on her face when she sees two children now instead of just the one. "Of course, it's my pleasure. You seem to have had a few changes since we met last." She notes the extra child on the other hip but still smiles and waves at the children, stepping aside for him to walk in and take a seat. She nods thoughtfully as he begins to speak, sympathy on her face. "I can imagine, it's quite a change." She agrees. "Where do you want to start?" She asks, figuring letting him lead would be a good idea, give her a gauge of what she can do in the moment.
for: @burningxheaven location: Botanical Gardens
It was something to do. A change of pace from all the drama, something that had nothing to do with either of their careers or lives, and yet he also mosied through the pumpkin and Halloween display with confusion. Holidays had never been his thing, less so in his past but even when he immigrated, it wasn't something he really thought of. "That one is fun." Hand with a warm cup of spiced apple cider points to an intricately carved pumpkin amidst painted pumpkins and spiderweb decorations.
Least of all, he isn't sure why he invited Brooke. Familiarity? Alma disappeared? People at the shop were busy? She answered his text? He knew she'd answer his text? Yeah. That's it. Predictable. "Do you carve pumpkins?" He asks off hand, looking down at her.
When Elliot invitied her to go to the gardens with him she didn't heisitate to say yes. It was a different pace than what they had been doing lately but she needed this. The recent turn of events had her emotionally trained and exhusted, she hoped this would be a god distraction and maybe even boost her mood. "That one is really cute." she agreed as they moved through the display.
Halloween was her second favorite holiday after Christmas, the rest didn't really matter to her. "I have a few times, its fun to do. Have you ever carved a pumpkin?" She questioned him, she wasn't sure if it was something he woud do. Though the small talk helped distract from how mundane and domestic this all felt, walking through the gardens and all.
There will always be a part of him that wonders if this is how his life should've been. Strolling through cutsey displays during holidays, hot seasonal drinks, and his day to day being filled with art and love and homemade food. Moments like this, he wonders if he had these things all along if he'd appreciate them as much as he does now.
As much as he isn't sure how to handle the normalcy, the clothes on only activity is only slightly uncomfortable when he realizes he isn't providing anything besides company. "No..." He shakes his head, dodging a running child with a Captain America costume on. "I didn't even put up a Christmas tree until last year." He admits with a small smile. "It was weird."
for: @burningxheaven location: Botanical Gardens
It was something to do. A change of pace from all the drama, something that had nothing to do with either of their careers or lives, and yet he also mosied through the pumpkin and Halloween display with confusion. Holidays had never been his thing, less so in his past but even when he immigrated, it wasn't something he really thought of. "That one is fun." Hand with a warm cup of spiced apple cider points to an intricately carved pumpkin amidst painted pumpkins and spiderweb decorations.
Least of all, he isn't sure why he invited Brooke. Familiarity? Alma disappeared? People at the shop were busy? She answered his text? He knew she'd answer his text? Yeah. That's it. Predictable. "Do you carve pumpkins?" He asks off hand, looking down at her.
for: @wasdaring location: some bar
"Next time you throw that you're going to hit me, please, stop." Elliott quickly intervenes before the next dart goes for his eye instead of his shoe. It's a fun game, and normally he wouldn't mind watching others have fun and enjoy themselves, but he'd prefer to not get injured in their fun.
"What are you trying to accomplish?" He asks, looking at the board with raised brows, dart that he gingerly took from her fingers in one hand, beer in the other before his gaze comes back to her.

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for: @drewhearts location: level up
"I'm just saying, I've had waaaay better luck on Tinder than I did Hinge, but that's a personal preference." She shrugs, taking another shot for the basket, the neon number climbing up as the ball rolls back. "But if she wants to judge me for using 'the hook up app' to 'find love'," an eyeroll of exasperation as she continued to give the latest office gossip. "Then that's just on her. And she can do what's best for her but she doesn't get to rag on my choices, y'know?" Another shot before the obnoxious buzzer sounds off and the neon points flash, tickets ejecting out from their slot.
"But yeah, that's the update on that situation. She's still being weird about the whole thing, what's new."
Was she nervous? of course, having a first tattoo was a big deal, especially with the design she had chosen. "Yes," she nodded her head as she watched him pull up the forms for consent. It was a process, she knew that. A part of her also wanted to do things she wasn't allowed to do back at home. Here she was, her own person.
"I understand." With this comes risks, but it wasn't going to stop her from wanting to continue getting the tattoo. She signed the consent forms after thoroughly reading them. "I'm ready. Approximately how long will this take?"
@nctawarricr
Inks are set up along with a cleanly wrapped machine on a metal tray. He's gone about stenciling the piece, an easy task since it's something she brought in versus something he had to make, still, capturing the essence was going to be the tricky part. It always is with work that isn't his own.
Her question has him looking up, giving a bit of a wince at the question. It's so subjective. "Uhm, did you want both the neck and shoulder today or just the neck?" He asks, setting the transfer paper down on the tray, looking over the tablet to make sure nothing was missed before finishing it off with his own scribble of a signature "Both pieces you're probably looking at roughly eight to ten hours? Maybe more, depending on how you handle it. Just the neck I'd bank on five. The neck is quite sensitive." He informs her, nodding to follow him.
alma didn’t answer right away. just shrugged, pulling her hood down as she stepped past him and into the narrow stairwell. the air inside was warmer, stale, but not unwelcome. it was quiet. and quiet was good. her boots sounded sharp against the steps, echoing a little too loud for the hour. she didn’t rush. “city’s fuckin’ loud during the day,” she said eventually, voice low, more thought than complaint. “nights are quieter. clearer. and i’m too damn pissed to sleep.” frustration clung to her like a second skin. the veil was making everyone chase smoke and ghosts, and here she was. hunting down a maybe-russian man over a maybe-connection to a maybe-bratva girl with a blog. a fucking blog. she didn’t care about the girl. she cared about the way her friends were spiraling, hanging by a thread. and zev was being handed failure after failure like it was candy.
by the time they reached the landing, she cast him a glance, head tilted slightly. “the fuck are you doin’ out late?” she asked, flipping the question back at him. “and lettin’ me up into your apartment without a fuss?” her mouth tugged into the faintest smirk, more sardonic than sweet. “i’m honored. really.”
The hallway is worse in the summer. Condensation lines the walls no matter if the dehumidifier is left on, the machines run all day and create the hot and sticky humidity that thickens the air. Thankfully, Fall is coming around, cooling the building faster. It smells of linens and soap, the dimly lit hall a welcome beacon from the night where the city falls quiet for a moment. The stairs creaking under his weight as he climbs the stairs with Alma in tow, nodding as she speaks, keys jingling in his hand. He fiddles with the deadbolt to his apartment, the satisfying slide of the lock clicking and the door opening.
"Girl and her mother live behind here. It's quiet time." He states simply to her question, flipping on one of the lamps and sliding off his shoes, going about the ritual of getting comfortable in the cold living room. "But wouldn't you like to know where I was?" A sly grin on his face and low chuckle as a hand runs through his tousled and sweaty hair, going to the kitchen and grabbing two glasses from the cupboards.
"Why are you pissed?" He asks, pouring water from the pitchers and into the cups, sliding one across the table for her if she wanted it.
lydia 💢 🌊 🧩
[ 💢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho have they never forgiven and never will ?
Weirdly no one. Lydia doesn't hold a grudge and has long let go of any anger or resentment she had towards her parents or people in her younger years. Capitalism though? Cuts to social programs? She'll tell you all about it.
[ 🧩 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s a truth about themselves they refuse to admit ?
She's not as healed as she wants to believe. From one stranger to another and downloading and deleting dating apps, she's still in a perpetual state of needing adventure but also wanting badly to be loved like those around her.
[ 🌊 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they cried ?
Honestly probably any day of the week. It's canon she's been having a stressful time at work especially with everything happening and the recent deaths. She def cried after she finally got Ozzy out of her office.
lydia : 🌒⚓ 🎀
what is their main love language ?
It goes between Acts of Service and Quality Time. Whether it's something simple like playing with her hair to bigger things like helping make a meal, Lydia's often busy and someone taking the time to help or just taking the time to be with her means a lot.
do they have a dream or goal they have given up on ?
She has long given up on being the next Hayley Williams or singing on Broadway.
what does “home” mean to them ?
Home is where she can take a full breath. It's the feeling of relaxing and warmth, the sense of belonging where her shoulders can fall from her ears and her battery can recharge.

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elliot : 🕸️ 🧩 🫀
do they have a favourite lie they like to hear ?
It's a skill being able to spot a lie before it's even finished. Typically, he doesn't care for lies, it's so common, but he does like the pleasantries of being told it's been nice to see him.
what’s a truth about themselves they refuse to admit ?
As much as time has gone on and he's grown, he's still the same person that left his life behind.
who taught them what love is ? did it hurt ? His best friend and first lover. It hurts him every day.
Meme day!
Headcanon Questions Yes or No Game
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his stare lingered on the page she slid across, but his focus never wavered from her face. he let the silence stretch—weighted, deliberate—until the only sound was the city bleeding through the window. when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, measured, but heavy with that edge that made men lean in whether they wanted to or not.
“hud funding. families. publicity.” he said it like he was tallying up lines on an invisible ledger. a slow nod followed, though not in agreement—more in acknowledgment. “you came prepared. you’ve done your homework. i’ll give you that.”
he leaned forward now, fingertips pressing against the file but not flipping it open. his eyes were steel, steady, locked on hers. “but let me tell you where i stop listening to most people who come through that door with smiles and tax incentives. they say all the right words—‘families,’ ‘shelters,’ ‘better housing’—but when the ink dries, the people i grew up with end up pushed out. prices climb. neighborhoods turn into billboards for people who don’t even know their names.”
cassius’ jaw flexed once, his tone cutting sharper. “i don’t build on bones. i don’t gut harlem to line anyone’s pockets. you telling me this isn’t that? then you better be damn sure the people on those lists aren’t numbers on a grant application—they’re people who stay. people who belong.”
he finally tapped the file once, the sound sharp against the desk. “i don’t need the tax credits. kingsley realty isn’t starving for investors. what i need is stability. roots. if what you’re offering strengthens that, then maybe—maybe—we talk about partnership.”
his voice dropped lower, quieter, but no less cutting. “but you bring me one eviction notice, one family displaced on your watch, and i’ll tear this deal up in front of you myself. and trust me, lydia—when i break something, it doesn’t get put back together.”
cassius sat back again, the faintest curl tugging at his mouth, not warmth, but calculation. “so here’s your chance. show me this isn’t smoke and mirrors. prove you’re not just another suit in sheep’s clothing.”
Lydia first wonders if he knows the irony of his words. Rent climbs because of companies like his, businesses like his. She's sure he does good, in fact she's read about him, she knows he does. That doesn't change the fact him and his housing are part of the overarching problem. Even so, she believes him when he says he's pro-saving the neighborhood. Anti-gentrification to an extent. She can hear the passion in his voice, the brutal honesty of his own ideals. After all, studying people is what she does.
She's heard the stories of who he is, of what he is, but he doesn't know a wolf in sheeps clothing recognizes their own amongst the herd. A nod, a hum, Lydia's gaze doesn't leave his. Not for dominance, not for power, but to show she sees him as much as he sees her. "We speak the same language, Mr. Kingsley, we're just on different teams."
"We're not going to evict anyone if your property managers don't. In fact, part of our goal with this partnership would be to allow grace for those that are on monthly pay schedules or pay periods that don't quite line up with the first of the month. I mean, I can't speak for you but my paycheck rarely lines up perfectly with rent and utilities." She dives further into the proposal, just a bit, just enough to show him she's here for the families— not the money.
"These families we're helping, they're from here. They've set up their lives, they're honest, hardworking folk and are just trying to stay. That's what I'm here to make happen," A pause and a nod of the head, gaze still unwavering from his. "One way or another." The sentence draws out as more of a threat than she intends for it too, but it's honest. It's raw. It's filled with her own lived experiences and those that she's met in her career.
More importantly, she means it. Fiercely protective of those she's dedicated to serve, she will throw out every tool in her arsenal to keep her families, her individuals, off the streets. "You just tell me what you need to see, I can get it for you. If you want to do a meet and greet with our current families, I'd be happy to arrange that as well."
Location: Random ass club Open Starter: @rotsstarters
This sure as hell wasn't her scene. Skeezy bars, sure, but a damn dance club? She had to be out of her fucking mind? Without a doubt, but it had nothing to do with her current choice. Still, she embarked deeper into the venue, observing as girls passed by in skimpy glittery ensembles that scarcely obscured their bodies. And there she was, looking as if she'd just stepped out of a scene from The Craft.
Working her way through the crowd, she lets out a growl of annoyance as a body smacks into her, alcohol splashing against her frame. "Watch where the fuck you're going!"
Absolutely this was what she needed. A night out with her girls, one too many shots and a tight dress and the right amount of attention she wanted on her. Laughter bubbles out of her, head tossed back, long dark hair that she put into waves for the occasion, she's back in her element. For the first time in weeks, she feels like herself and it feels good.
Stepping away from the bar with a fresh drink, a man falls into her and Lydia falls into a blonde passing by. Hand up high to save her drink it instead sloshes down her hand and onto the other womans outfit. "Sorry! I think he's had too much to drink!" She announces nose wrinkling up a bit as he slurs something unsavory at her before she shoots him a dirty look. "Get out of here! Ew!" Out of a protective habit for her own friends, she grabs onto the womans hand and pulls her to get away from the dude, shaking her head. "As if, right?!" She shouts over the music with an added eye roll.
location: outside of elliott's place status: closed for @nctawarricr (elliott)
it was late, and the city had slipped into that restless kind of quiet. alma leaned against the brick outside elliott’s building, one boot scuffing the sidewalk like she wasn’t thinking. but she was. she’d been thinking for an hour. she wasn’t even sure what time it was anymore. just that she’d walked here instead of taking the subway. just that she had questions. she wasn’t certain elliott was russian. not like she was some accent expert. but if he was, maybe he knew something about the dumb blonde with the blog. the one zev tasked her to find. not that alma gave a shit about that. not when the veil had just tried to kill one of their own. when she heard footsteps, she pushed off the wall as elliott stepped out of the night. “‘sup,” she nodded her head, voice casual. before he could answer, she pulled something from her pocket and tossed it to him underhand — small, clinking. a magic eight-ball keychain. “for the girl,” alma said. no explanation. just that. for the girl he walked to school. the one he cared about.
It was late. Head falls back, rolling out his neck a bit as he exhales a billow of smoke into the night sky above him. This city never sleeps, it's never quite quiet but at this point in the night it isn't loud either. The bachelorette parties have long headed home, the barflys have stumbled onto the subway and Elliott finds his own eyes gazing up towards a light polluted night. He'll freely admit it's something he misses from home; the dark nights. A starlit sky for miles now only lives on in his memories. A sigh escapes him as he rounds the corner to his apartment, keys sliding out of his pocket, pace slowing a bit as he sees Alma waiting in the streetlight.
Eyebrows raise in a nod to her question before they fall to the trinket in her hand. A sly smile but he doesn't say anything, only takes it and puts it in his pocket. "She'll love it." He assures, nodding for Alma to follow him as he rounds to the back of the building and unlocks the door to his apartment stairs. "What are you doing out late?" He finally asks, letting her up the stairs first before locking the door behind them.

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"Oh, nothing really." She waves her hand as if it weren't a big deal --- and to Zana, it really wasn't. It was a usual Monday morning of someone being upset with her for prioritizing a more important matter. It was more like a rare moment that she stopped to think on the conversation of earlier. "Just thinking how some people can be rather ridiculous. But I suppose that's simply human nature sometimes."
Lydia nods, noting the pause, noting the flippancy of the moment and the avoidance. It's a moment for her where she questions whether she should push further or if they're at that level yet. Her face remains soft, inviting, a light laugh and nod in response. "It is, people have different thought patterns, ways of organizing and prioritizing." She agrees, thinking a moment. "Do you often find that you feel people aren't prioritizing as seriously as you are?"
Brooklyn pulled her lip between her teeth as she moved forward at his gesture. She lets it pop free as he loops her pants and pulls her in close and gives her a turn. "Hmm, I think I liked ot better when you were taking this off of me." She said as she looked over her shoulder at him. She met his eyes with her big brown ones. "Maybe you could remind me what that is like."
"Mmmm..." He hums, arms sliding around her waist, pulling her back into his chest, swaying slightly. It's late. He should send her home. He should be getting ready for bed. But she is pressed against him, and she did come all this way, and he was always taught to never keep a pretty thing waiting. His head dips down, lips brushing along the curve of her neck, kisses so light they may not be there at all, trailing up to her ear. "I think I can do that for you."