#innxcentfaces

Tagged by: @reevezs

Tagging: @savagecuhnt , @lunarruled , @lithiumwolff , @abysmxls , @innxcentfaces , @lostxones , @waveofstars , @abrvcadvbra , @ruinedsoulsrp , @townshaped , @renegadetulis , and YOU

John-Paul has an amazing voice and knows how to play piano. JP is pretty shy about showing off his talents however so only his siblings have ever really heard him sing, and that's mostly because of the concerts he gives while showering, and they've yet to learn of his pianist side. He has a very R & B style to his voice, letting his emotions come out freely while he sings. He learned to play piano when he was a teenager by messing around with the one in his apartment building's lobby but can't read music.

Petronella is fluent in the Divine Language from The Fifth Element. She and her brother Knox learned it in order to speak to each other without the rest of The Starlight Oasis, especially its leader, Auron, from listening in on their conversations.

Liam is a huge fan of art museums. Sculpture, specifically that of ancient European descent, being his preferred pieces. He loves the curved lines and the way sculptors can capture not only emotions, but textures. Beautiful. The skill and talent of the artists just amazes him.

Oscar can wiggle his ears and make it sound like a water drop with just his tongue and mouth.

John-Paul and Gage can both sew, each learning out of necessity - Gage because his family couldn't afford the clothes he wanted and JP because his couldn't afford to replace the ones they needed. John-Paul would fix his younger sister's clothes especially whenever they started to wear out so she wouldn't get bullied at school for the family's financial status and Gage would embellish the ones he already had to keep an edge to his style.

Petronella and Ivy both have pets. Petronella has Noodles, a Mojave Green Rattlesnake. Ivy has a black African House Snakes named Medusa.

Adam is into thicker girls. Think that's enough said really.

I know I've mentioned it before, but it's one of my favorite HCs for Ethan. As invincible as he sees himself, it's good that can take him out. He's allergic to nuts, pineapple, coconut, honey, and weirdly to him, sesame seeds. Needless to say, he is very cautious when eating out, which happens frequently. He is also allergic to bees and codeine.

Petronella has hemophobia thanks to past abuse by her cult's leader, Auron. Her brother has a pair of goggles she wears to help combat the immediate gag reflex when she sees it or is around it. They have rose colored lenses so everything is largely the same color, so she can trick her brain in to ignoring the sight of blood by lumping it into the rest of the landscape.

"Boss..."

The word alone was enough to pull Dominic's attention. He straightened, dragging his head out from under the hood of the car he'd been working on. Grabbing the nearest rag, he turned, slow and unbothered, like someone who already knew what waited for him. His gaze swept over the small group with the same lazy disinterest he used to wipe the grease from his hands - methodical and detached. The grey wifebeater clung to his chest, damp with sweat, stretched across solid muscle. His arms shifted with quiet menace as the rag twisted between his palms, bulging biceps flexing with each movement.

One brow arched when his eyes finally landed on the centrepiece: a girl, forced to her bare knees on the filthy garage floor. Dark blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a bruise blooming along the line of her cheek. Someone had clearly decided to shut her up on the way here. She was flanked by two of his men - one of them Shawn, her dealer. The idiot who'd been bending the rules, letting her pay in sloppy head and sweet little moans instead of money. Something that might have flown under the radar for longer, if one of Dominic's area managers hadn't noticed the discrepancy on the books. He stood on the girl's other side now, built like a brick wall, looking decidedly unamused. 

Dominic didn't usually bother with this kind of low-level bullshit anymore, but this? This had gotten his attention. Not many people had the balls - or the brain rot - to skim from his operation for a piece of ass. So either the guy was a moron, or the girl had something special between her thighs. 

His eyes lingered on the pretty little whore for a moment longer. Then he curled the rag into a ball and tossed it onto a worktable without looking. His focus cut to Shawn, who looked far too relaxed for someone standing at the edge of a grave. Smug, even. Like he thought he'd gotten away with something. Probably thought pinning it all on his favourite fucktoy was going to save him. Had been hard at work, spinning that tale on the entire ride to Dom's garage.

"So you're the one who can't fuckin' count," Dominic finally said, voice low and even, almost calm considering the volatile temper he was known for. Shawn opened his mouth to speak, some dumb defence poised, but Dom shook his head before he could get a single word out. "Don't bother." A dismissal; cold and final. Shawn, surprisingly, made the smart choice and clamped right up - not that it mattered. 

Dom turned his attention back to the girl, stepping in closer. "And you..." He continued evenly, eyes locking onto her pretty blues. "You've got a pussy worth dying for, huh?"

Ben groaned as he began to slowly rouse from his violent slumber, the side of his head throbbing as the skin and hair there felt sticky with drying blood. It was hardly the first time he had been ambushed on a job, and he would be cocky to assume it would be the last, but it didn’t stop him from feeling furious at himself that he had let the creature get the drop on him. 

As he stirred a little more, he was pleased to find the cool familiar feeling of his rifle against his palm, which confused him somewhat. He had been attacked, but whatever did it had not killed or even disarmed him. The confusion encouraged him to move, rolling onto his side with a small wince across his tired features, and as he opened up his eyes, he caught a glimpse of a young woman standing over him. 

The alarm at Michael’s bedside screeched to life. He swiped at it blindly from under the covers until, finally, he managed to catch the snooze button. Seconds later, a mop of curly black hair emerged and hazel eyes squinted at the bright red numbers.

3:00.A.M

In this line of work, it was better to carry out jobs in the morning--- when the street was quiet and dark and the neighbours snored like oblivious pigs next door, warm and cozy in their beds. The Irishman frowned, trying to remember which unfortunate bastards name had found its way onto his list today. Simon had said something about this being their clients' first payment failure. Only a few broken fingers required, then. That usually got the message through nice and quick.

He slid his phone from the desk and swung his legs out of bed.

An hour later and he was outside the targets house, a baseball bat shoved up his sleeve and an expression of cold indifference on his face. His breath came out in clouds of mist and he sniffled a couple of times to stop his nose running. Growing impatient, he knocked again, then stepped back to squint up at the upper floor windows.

If they didn’t answer soon he would put his boot through the fucking thing.  

@innxcentfaces

Thank fucking god he was done driving. 

Chris absolutely loved what he did, the places he got to see, the people he got to meet, the sights he got to see were all worth it in his mind. But... sometimes the very, very, very long car rides wore him down. Turning off the engine and hoping out of the bright yellow van he raised his hands high above his head to stretch. When a satisfying pop was felt and heard he gave a sigh and headed across the parking lot to the diner. He was starving!

He had needed that trip to the coast though. It had been far too long since he had seen the ocean. He loved being able to dive down into the salty water and maybe bring back up a shell or two. He tried not to take any more than that though. 

Although no matter how hard he tried he could never leave the shore without finding sand in places he didn’t want it several weeks after. 

Walking in there was that sense of familiarity that came with entering any diner. A good number of them shared similar traits. Worn out booths, a spinning pie tray, the swiveling bar seats, and the smell of both fried food and coffee. Chris chose a seat and pulled out his phone to send a text to his sister to let her know he had arrived safe while he waited. She had made him promise he would message her soon as he stopped for the night.