#blccdiedknuckles

Frank was used to walking through life looking over his shoulder. He didn’t always used to like this; it started when his wife and son were mindlessly slaughtered all those years ago. Ever since, it’s been nothing but paranoia and constant vigilance. Even now, a lone wolf of a vigilante, he still felt the pangs of fear whenever his heightened senses pinged him about an incoming threat.

He was minding his business on the street when it seemed like someone was following him — someone who looked fairly tough, or at least tougher than usual folk. Frank needed to nip this in this bud ASAP. Making a detour from his usual route, Frank led himself and the stalker to a desolate warehouse a few blocks away, curious to see if he’d be tailed there. He was right. Stopping abruptly before the door, Frank turns around pulls out a strap —nothing too imposing, just a souped-up pistol really— and aims it in the other man’s face, fully ready to pull the trigger if necessary. “Who are you, and what do you want with me?” he asks curtly, steely resolve unwavering.

Carlos had been needing a place to stay, and saw an ad for a shitty place. Well, it was in a pretty shitty neighborhood, but the building itself seemed okay. However, he didn't get to live in one of the bigger apartments. No, Carlos was to live with the handyman of the entire place. Still, it was better than living on the streets. With him needing to lay low, it was better to rent and pay cash to someone who probably wouldn't ask too many questions. Definitely wouldn't run a background or credit check. Hopefully not a drug testing like some of the paranoid ones here.

    A hand massaged at the back of his neck trying to work out the kinked muscles before returning to flipping through his tablet. Eyebrows furrowed together while he begrudgingly stared down at his client schedule already dreading how busy he was going to be next week. Sometimes he wondered if taking on the title of High warlock was truly worth it. Although confrontations within Atlanta had certainly decreased among the races since having taken on the mantle. Soft raps at the door make his head snap up with surprise, lips slowly pursing with curiosity mixed with a respectful dose of wariness. Gradually getting up from where he sat on the sofa, legs elegantly propelled him towards the door, Curran snapping his fingers only for a magical one way mirror to embed itself into wood. He blinks for a few seconds taking in the sight of the stranger before narrowing his gaze curiously and abruptly cutting off his magic. What could someone want now? It was supposed to be his damn day off. Sometimes being the high warlock could be downright irritating. Thoughts passed behind his eyes like shadows, though no answers seemed spring forth. Complementing for a moment, he decided it was either sink or swim time. Opening up the door, the redhead stared at the stranger with a expressionless mask until quirking an eyebrow. "Can I help ya?”

Kyle and Jaime had gotten a bit buzzed, it was true. When at the gym, they had Mallory working hard within his limits, not wanting him to get lax. When at home however, even they couldn't deny drinking with Mall. However, the two had wanted him to do better. In their semi drunken state, they came up with a solution. Jaime had actually done it to someone before, but that was with someone who already had an interest in it. They didn't know how Mallory would react, but the man was already shaven down there...so they took advantage of the drunk and put it on, hiding the key afterwards.

The problem with Aric was that he was a creature of habit no matter where he was on the map. This meant that he frequented the same hotels, the same shitty dive bars, the same restaurants every time he was in town. The lesson he was learning was that because of this particular bad habit, it was making it easier for him to be tracked down by the memories he’d left behind. This particular memory had a name he couldn’t, name he wouldn’t, forget. Staring at the other from the frame of hotel room door, shirtless, and fresh from the shower. 

“What....” He stopped, paused for a moment, eyes squinting together as if he was already bracing for whatever was going to come next. With his tendency to leave before being left? Well, the majority of people didn’t exactly have a warm welcome saved up for him. “Are you doing here? It’s three in the morning..” 

It’s a love or hate relationship, really—Mallory hanging around the shop and all. Not that he wasn’t welcome, but the age of Vespa revival among the hipsters had been long gone along with actual young people who would rather drive around the city that dive straight through the ardors of commute -------- more so, Aidan’s shop isn’t exactly the Ritz Carlton of auto-repair places… heck, even their neighborhood was no Ritz Carlton. Even family-men would think twice before waltzing in with their family wagon and get a tune up. So, at most, the usual crowd were… well, neighborhood people. Not that he disliked them either. Aidan can’t deny their god from them—old men, Russians, the Irish. Italians who still watch Rocky every morning—or so Vito from down the butcher shop would always say whenever he barges in with his coffee. His shop practically turns into some country border. Switzerland. Aidan wouldn’t be surprised if they forced some negotiation meeting among the mobs in there with Mallory in tow. Long story short, it gets a bit crowded. It was only then when he closes the garage for a full day’s work on what he had that he gets to hang out with Mallory just by themselves—at least, during the day. Sober.

“Bored yet?” Aidan chuckled, heavy pecs bouncing against the cling of his flimsy tank top as he straightened up and let his arm swell from how he wiped sweat from his brows. Setting the wrench down, it was time to check up on the guy, really—especially since he didn’t have the best of amenities. He got a TV in his little office…and the promise of a cold beer in his mini-fridge, but between that and their small talks in between, it was a simple flow of things. Aidan liked that, it was just how he is. Almost a creature of habit. “ --------- or are you just hungry… ‘mean, we can call for a pizza. Or Chinese,” Aidan chuckled on as he teased the usual. “Or a burgundy potato gratin with pepper panko crumble and foamed crème fraiche along with a filet of mignon in white wine sauce reduction.”

do it