lackadaisydreamer

[lackadaisydreamer]

As a straight person I don't claim this bs😭

what is wrong. like with all of you.

[lackadaisydreamer]

t-he urges.....I mustt....ffight them....i want to make ironic fantrolls with these hoorrnnsss.....

pride

[lackadaisydreamer]

eeeehehehehehe

Happy 4/13 I’m still way too attached to these characters so I did a crap animation

[lackadaisydreamer]

So cuuuute

do u ever just slickpaint

[lackadaisydreamer]

Midnight City pt 6

((Ms. Paint is already breaking him in the best way possible, I know I've made y'all wait)) 

Warnings: bad dreams, fluff, cuddles wholesomeness. 

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The door was shut behind her and the room that was always so familiar felt sinister, with smiles that were just a little too wide hiding in the shadows. The leftover remnants of ash ghosted her senses and her wrists still ached as Ms. Paint gently rubbed them. Her soft silk sheets were comforting but felt so thin. 

Empty halls stretched at either of his sides as Slick leaned on the door. His head was pounding and he could feel his eyes burning from exhaustion. As he slid to the floor with a familiar blade twirling between his fingers he was starting to regret offering to keep watch. After all he had been the one kicking ass and getting shit done. He took off his hat again, leaning his head back. “Who am I kidding? I’m used to this...she isn’t.” He cursed, closing the switchblade. Explosions, threats, and blood stained carpets. That was his world, not exactly by choice but it had become home and she had been unlucky enough to get mixed up in it. “Someone like her isn’t for this world...”He thought. Kindness and selflessness were worthless in Midnight City, they were regarded as naïve and foolish. His world didn’t deserve someone like her and as his blood ran cold and numb Slick deduced he would save her from this if it was the last thing he did. He didn’t need any other reason, other than the fact that she was the one light he would not let the cities true colours -or rather lack thereof- tarnish.

He was unsure when exactly he fell asleep, but Slick supposed even he had his limits when he found himself being aroused from slumber. Spades pressed his ear to the door, his heart sunk. She was crying out in her sleep, no sobs or violent screams but she was in discomfort. Slick could hear her tossing about, her voice growing slightly louder. He grit his teeth. "Dammit she could hurt herself..." Slick opened the door slowly, peeking in hesitantly.

Her room was as soft and pink as everything else about her. A large four poster bed was in the centre of the room, a wall of mirrors on one side no doubt hiding a luxurious walk in closet. Her vanity was covered in an assortment of expensive perfume and makeup. Then there was her, he saw her quickly turn kver in her sleep. Ms. Paint was shaking, her breaths ragged. "No...no, leave me alone..." She kept muttering under her breath, her teeth clenched tight. He couldn't catch most of what she was saying as he quickly crossed the room to her side. His hand found hers, his eyes fixed on ms. Paint. He remembered what the doctors had said, not too long after the war...he and the others had experienced similar episodes. Intense nightmares, sometimes even sleepwalking. Boxcars would wake in the night thinking he was back in the operating rooms. Spade's had grown so fierce at one point he would wake them all in the night barking orders at them to get down, crouching under tables like they were under fire. The doctors had told them, don't wake them...if they work through the episodes on their own it was best. Sleeping through it or waking on their own they were more likely to forget.

So he kept his voice low, like he had a hundred times before. When she thrashed or tossed and turned he was gently take hold of her arm. He would only wake her if she was a danger to herself but she was okay. When Ms. Paint's voice began to grow louder and panicked, he leaned closer. Telling her over and over that she was safe. He would tell her her name, where she was, and described things in her room. It didn't take long before she sat up, her eyes fluttering open as she took deep shuddering breaths.

Ms. Paint rubbed her eyes, her hands trembling as her chest ached from how fast her heart was beating. "Slick...I...oh dear...." She couldn't recall the dream, only bits and pieces that were already escaping her memory. "I've...I haven't had a dream like that since I was a child..." Ms. Paint attemoted to laugh but every inch of her was still violently shaking.

"You don't have to apologize...you had one hell of a night." She shook her head.

"I cannot allow one night to undo me..." She muttered, reaching for her robes. "It's so silly..." He took her hand, his eyes locked on her as she turned to face him. Tears were rolling down her face. Those soft, kind eyes were brimming with fear. His heart shattered, and something in him snapped.

Forget business.

He had a new target, and that was making Jackpots last few breathing minutes a living hell.

"Ms. Paint...you know I've seen you in the papers, time and time again..." He spoke so gently. "You really are the one person that stands between this city and complete chaos...you're the only person in this godforsaken shit hole that actually gives a damn." Spades took a hold of her hand as he sat with her on the bed. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, care with ferocity, and you have the courage to do something I've never seen before." He found his grip tightening ever so slightly. "You don't give a damn, you don't wear any mask or live life with any pretenses..." He finally met her gaze. "I don't know why, or if you will even want this but...make no mistake I promise that me and my men will do everything in our power to take Jackpot down, I'll wipe that fat bastard off the face of this world."

the tears fell freely, a mix of fear and relief sweeping over Ms. Paint as she wept bitterly. She had been at a loss, unsure where to even begin or turn to. Spades offered an open arm, an embrace she received as she cried into his undershirt. "I...I more than accept...thank you...I really don't want to see you or anyone else get hurt....but he must be stopped...." His touch was an anchor as he rubbed her shoulders. Ms. Paint looked up at him, her tears slowing down. "I've read about you too you know...I thought you were myth." She added with a laugh, "I'm not a child...I know you've lived a life that came with decisions no living being should have to make." She lowered her eyes. "You've done things...you've hurt people...but you've never gone out of your way to hurt people, and...he is." She covered her face as he slowly pulled her close once more.

"We don't know a damn thing about eachother...do we?" He thought, but that didn't matter. Slick would burn the world to ash if she said so, this power she had over him...it was enough to drive him mad with fear yet die from bliss all at once. It was jarring how quickly of an addict she was turning him into. He looked down, a stern alluring gaze that made Ms. Paint feel weak at the knees.

The sight of her soft angelic face pressed into Slick's chest was a sight he would take to his grave. This couldn't last, he knew that but he would enjoy it while he could. "I have...but those things will be nothing compared to what I will do to him" He tried to come across as reassuring as possible. "I...don't want to be forward but would you prefer if...I stayed here so you can get some sleep?"

Ms. Paint nodded slowly, her face burning a soft pink. "Yes...yes please do." Her voice trailing off as her whole body shut down, his arms still wrapped around her as he lay beside her. Slick hoped she wouldn't feel his own heart racing as he held her close. His one metallic arm felt cold on her exposed skin, but his touch was delicate and strong. Slick couldn't help but feel embarrassed, his own face now warm.

"Is...this alright?" He asked slowly.

"Yes..." she murmured, her eyes finally shutting as her body gave in to sleep. "Thank you Slick...goodnight."

[lackadaisydreamer]

I'm starting to get into another Homestuck renaissance...I think I'm gonna see how much of Midnight City I can write tonight

edit: pt 6 is now out, it's a slickpaint au

[lackadaisydreamer]

I AGREE

Ms. Paint x Spades Slick is a better ship than Davekat and they should have kissed

Spades Slick x Ms. Paint aka Paint It Black is better than Davekat. They really should have.

[lackadaisydreamer]

I want him to crush me

all hb all the time.

[lackadaisydreamer]

Midnight City Pt5

A slickpaint au

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((it's late bur happy belated 413. I had it in me to write a longer part this time, next update is gonna be a bit more on the romantic side. I'm a sucker for a good slow burn.))

Droog hated pain, it reminded him of his inevitable mortality. Curses streamed under his breath, the last thing he remembered was hitting the floor. The events of the night blurred together, swirling gowns and the echo of poker chips melding into explosions and the smell of gasoline that still soaked the hem of his dress pants. Throbbing, he woke to a throbbing headache.

Boxcars was finishing up fixing his wound. His mind drifted back to the war times, and all the hours spent just like this. Chaos, the blood soaked ground, and this lumbering buffoon that somehow had qualified as a medic.

Droog was so accustomed to the feeling of the sharp needle by now that he hardly felt it. "You should have told us you were shot." Hearts grunted. "This could have been bad, you're lucky there's no fractures...it didn't hit the bones." Droog looked over to the bedside table reaching for a cigarette. In one swift click of his lighter it glowed in his hand. Droog inhaled deeply, the burn itself was addictive.

"What can I say I've always had excellent calves..." He muttered, looking at his bandaged leg. "Where's Slick?" He asked as Hearts washed his hands in the basin.

"His room is across the hall." He shrugged, drying them off with a fluffy pink towel. Just about everything in Ms. Paint's mansion was some shade of pink.

The bed was softest thing he had ever lain on. Slick looked up at the ceiling, staring at the embossed patterns swirling overhhead. His eyes followed them as his own thoughts stretched and buzzed in his skull. Trying everything he could to organize them, take them apart then piece them together over and over. Was there something he missed? some small detail? Nothing. Absolutely nothing came to mind and that part was the worst. He tossed his hat in frustration, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

The Felt for some reason was working for Biggs, and he was after Ms. Paint...what was he planning? "I need to ask her so many questions but she's in no condition to speak to me..." Slick grumbled. "Droog will kill me if I go check on him, and I can't sleep a wink..." His thoughts fell back on that moment in the hallway, hearing the fear in her voice. "I can't let Jackpot find her again..." With a growl of frustration he got up from bed, pulling his dress shirt back on. Bustling in the hallway was Clyde, making sure everyone else was comfortable.

"Excuse me Clyde?" Slick called over, immediately getting his full attention. He had a kind smile.

"Yes master Spades?" Clyde asked, leaning politely over a basket of the now soiled disguises from the nights events. "I was just on my way to ask if you would like me to wash and press your suit?" Slick scratched his head.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna be burning the night oil Clyde, could I get a copy of yesterday's paper, a pen, and a notepad?"

She was shaking, every inch of her aching. Clyde had insisted on a relaxing bath which did help, and the doctor would be coming in tomorrow morning. Ms. Paint squeezed her eyes shut, quiet sobs making her shudder. She could feel his hands, and hear Itchy's terrible scratchy laugh that made chills run down her spine.

It felt like hours had passed before she could finally breathe evenly. Her head was throbbing as she slowly sat up. Water, yes some water would help. Ms. Paint got up from her bed, leaning agaisnt the post as a small dizzy spell overtook her. Eyes closed, deep breaths before she took a step. She sighed, wrapping herself in a luxurious pink robe and stepping into a pair of elegant slippers.

She made her way down the stairs to the kitchen, and from the livingroom she noticed a soft glow of light. "Certainly Clyde is not up at this hour?" Ms. Paint thought to herself that if it were the case she would send him off to bed at once.

To her surprise, it was Slick. He was leaning over Newspaper clippings and writing down notes at a rapid pace. She couldn't see the papers but he was scribbling down everything he had heard Itchy and Die say. A list of questions for Ms. Paint of course, as well as all information he knew about Biggs He sighed, rubbing his tired face. He was running out of things to take note of. He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open.

Ms. Paint slowly backed away, the last thing she wanted was to bother him. "He's certainly thorough." He looked just as tired as she felt, perhaps some tea or something would help. "I think I would prefer a tea myself actually..." she mused, making her way to the kitchen.

Slick stretched his neck, the small clicks and cracks of his joints made him wince as he finally sat up straight. He could almost hear Hearts griping about his posture. "I was right..." He had every copy of the paper from the week on hand, his deck style modus had them all outstretched before him. "The Felt haven't been on the move for the last month..." They would sometimes have periods where they would lay low but this had been an especially long down time even for them. They hadn't even been mentioned in the papers, and over and over there was Jackpot.

"Biggs joins the board! The Paint Foundation celebrates their gratitude." He had been cozying up to their little socialite for some time now, and this explained the Felt's absence. "Dammit..." He muttered. Standing up to stretch his back. "Still too many questions." He suddenly stood completely upright, he heard something. The sound of shattered glass...the opening of a cupboard? A door perhaps...yes, and those were definitely footsteps following it. Slick turned over and shut off the light, with a small flick of a card his hands met the familiar handle of one of his many blades. One of his personal favorites, an ornate black switchblade. The blade was so dark he wouldn't have to worry about pesky reflections that was for sure.

He made his way through the halls, confused at a single small light that seemed to be coming from the kitchen. "Clyde already went to bed...The crew would have to come through here from that hallway...Ms. Paint has been asleep for hours and I'm sure I'd hear her..." He approached carefully. "If Biggs has the nerve to show up here..." Slick grit his teeth, where would he take her and on that note Why did he care? Slick clenched his fist in frustration. Why on earth was he sticking his neck out for her like this anyway?

"He's interfering with my business...that's all there is to it, and she's got something to do with it." With a deep breath. "It's business, nothing else..." He heard someone inside, only person. Yeah, he could take them no problem. "Alright show yourself!" He demanded, leaping inside and his blade hovered at the neck of not a checker nor did his gaze meet a green tailored idiot.

There she was, Ms. Paint dumping the pieces of a broken tea cup in the bin. Her soft porcelain complexion sickly, her eyes dark and exhausted but nevertheless beautiful. She hadn't even screamed, she just stood there shocked, and he looked just as surprised as she did. "M-mr. Spades! I....oh dear I..." She felt so dizzy, she could barely piece together a sentence. "Did...I startle you?..." Her voice was already trailing off. It had been hard enough for her to stand. Ms. Paint's mind went completely blank.

Without a moment of hesitation that not even he could have anticipated, Spades immediately dropped his blade. His arms scooping her up. "You're supposed to be resting..." he grumbled. "I thought the noise might have been an intruder, I wasn't expecting to see you there I'm sorry, it looks like I was the one that scared you..." Spades made his way back to the livingroom. Ms. Paint felt like she was about to pass out, she could feel his heart racing as he held her close. Trying not to knock over any of the decor in the halls.

Ms. Paint felt her face burn, all this carrying and all this fuss. It was hardly dignified. "I am perfectly fine thank you...please, I can walk..." Slick raised his brow.

"You were practically using that broom as a damn cane." She lowered her face, the embarrassment making her cheeks go pink. "If you...don't mind me asking why were you up? If Clyde had found you he would have thrown a fit." Ms. Paint sighed, rubbing her face as they came to the livingroom.

"Oh nevermind...thank you either way...I saw you working, you looked exhausted and I couldn't sleep a wink either so I thought perhaps some a tea and a chat would clear both our minds." She explained. Spades shook his head.

"No, you can barely keep your eyes open...I think you need your rest, and we can discuss everything later like you said..." He turned from his work and to the staircase, still holding her. "I don't want anything happening to you.. believe me as to why that is that's one of the too many questions I have right now but..." Slick allowed himself a look, just one look before once more turning his gaze forward. She was looking up at him, her gentle eyes tired and her soft cheeks rosy. "Why is she looking at me like that...I'm just some sewer rat...why the hell is she even trusting me that's a terrible decision." He took a deep breath. Yeah, too many questions. Spades cleared his throat, returning to his thought.

"one thing's for sure...even I have to admit that this city wouldn't do well to lose you."

She quietly directed him to a set of large white double doors, his touch so gentle as he placed her on the floor. Why did he care? Why was he here...the same questions made her feel like her skull was going to split in half. Ms. Paint looked back to the doors, hesitant to open them. Dreading the memory of cigar smoke and rope burns. Surprisingly, he reached over and opened it for her. "Since I already can't sleep, would you feel better if kept watch outside?" A question that seemed to make even more questions. Questions they were both too tired to ask and too tired to answer. Yet, there was a comfort in his words and a solution to his directionless puzzling with her answer.

"Yes...thank you mr. Spades." He chuckled, the first time she saw him smile.

"I'm not one of your ambassadors or representatives, you can just call me Spades or Slick that's up to you." He waved her inside. "Goodnight Miss. Paint."

[lackadaisydreamer]

We can never escape

real excited for the new totk mechanics

[lackadaisydreamer]

Midnight City pt4

He rummaged through the ash tray to find a cigarette, the end of a cigar, anything. Luck as always was on his side, and Jackpot found himself a cigar he had left earlier hardly even half done. He must have been in a rush when he put it out. His face was illuminated by a very ornate silver lighter, the glow of the embers on the end of the pungent cigar was the only light in the room before he leaned over and turned on a single small desk lamp. “ Who the hell were they?” He hissed. Only a single other person sat in the room, a woman in a tight trench coat with a tall collar. The very night sky seemed to have been woven into the fabric, her face hidden under a wide hat.  “If you don’t know you really are a fool Biggs.” Snow lifted her face, offering only a smile of pearly white teeth framed in glossy black lips. “You’ve been throwing the Midnight Crew to the dogs to throw them off your scent and you didn’t think that would bite you in the ass eventually?.” She crooned. Biggs growled, only to have her suddenly appear behind him, leaning against his chair. “I told you, if you took this path you would regret it...” He slammed his fist on the table, making wood splinter against the walls. A pistol aimed at her head with a snarling warthog hovering his finger over the trigger. 

“You really do think you’re invincible...I would love to find out.” He mused. “I wonder if the world would split like this bullet against your skull, or if it would simply go with a pop like a bubble...” She didn’t even give him the luxury of turning her head to look at him when suddenly his cigar was in her hand. 

“I’m surprised you smoke such a cheap brand...” She flicked it away then walked towards the door. He threw down the gun and sunk back into his chair. He was starting to wonder if she was his prisoner, or if this was the other way around. 

They all sat in silence, Slick driving and gripping the wheel tight. He had so many questions, what had Biggs wanted with Ms. Paint? Why were the Felt working for someone? He was getting confused, and angrier by the second. He looked in the backseat, Hearts was lifting a finger out of curiosity. Poking Ms. Paint’s cheek. “Don’t do that you moron!!” He barked, then quickly froze. Watching as Paint turned over slowly. Slick lowered his voice, wondering why his heart was beating so fast. “ Don’t wake her up, and dammit you stupid ape you can’t just poke people in the face!” Boxcars tapped his hands together sheepishly. 

“She’s just...so squishy looking.” Slick facepalmed. 

“Fucking hell Box...You don’t call women squishy!” Slick allowed himself one look, just one look. He felt his chest flutter as he quickly looked away. “She does look squishy...” He thought, driving once more in silence until they reached a manor that was white and pink with beautiful fountains and rose bushes everywhere. Slick hopped out as Deuce struggled to undo his seatbelt, kicking Droog to wake him up and help Clubs. Hearts gently tapped Ms. Paint’s shoulder, quickly backing up as if she were a bomb as she slowly sat up. 

“O-oh!” She called out startled, looking around at the four men as the events of the night quickly slid back into her memory. Slick pushed his way past Hearts. “Hello, thank you...” She stuttered, hesitantly taking Slick’s arm as he offered it to her. Droog smirked, holding a very tired Clubs in front of him as he hiccupped and mumbled something about his stomach hurting. Hearts gave Slick a thumbs up as soon as he was out of Ms. Paint’s line of sight as Droog lowered his hat over his face to cover his laughter. Slick felt his face burn as he glared at all three of them. Ms. Paint took a deep breath. 

“I would be happy to give you all a place to sleep tonight...I assure you that this is as safe as you can get, it’s very private, and has a state of the art security system.” Before she even reached the steps the large doors were thrown open and they were greeted by an elderly prospitian in a very well made suit running down the steps frantically. 

“Mistress! Madame, heavens to Betsy!” He composed himself, straightening his back and offering a polite bow before addressing Ms. Paint again. “It’s all over the news! A gas leak at the casino...Mr. Biggs hasn’t made any statements, and you were nowhere to be seen- GOOD HEAVENS!” He suddenly noticed the four standing there, looking at them with surprise. “My sincerest apologies. I was unaware that...we had company.” He looked at Ms. Paint with confusion. She sighed, feeling a massive migraine coming on. 

“Clyde a moment please do forgive me...” She let go of Slick’s hand, making her way up the steps and motioning for them all to follow. “It has been a very long night, and I am sure that ALL of you have many many questions and honestly so do I but that can wait until morning...please.” Clyde bowed, leading the gentlemen inside. 

It was well lit, with marble and rich velvet as far as the eye could see. It was decorated in a very flattering dusty pink. Ms. Paint took off her gloves, Clyde seeing her in the light froze. She had bruises everywhere, her silk dress was torn and her hat was missing. “What on earth...Ms. Paint?” He was flabbergasted. “Did Biggs even see to you when the explosion happened?” Ms. Paint straightened her back. 

“I will say this dear Clyde, I don’t want to to worry you.” Her voice was warm, but when turned her sweet face was cold and even made shivers run down Slick’s spine. “That fat bastard, as well as his brainless accomplices are not to be let anywhere near this place or so help me I will tear his stupid moustache from his gaunt face myself; and shove it so far up his ass? He will cough it up, and spit it out!” Her voice slowly built as she spoke, ending of with a sharp shout that made Slick raise is brows. What was this feeling? He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Boxcars leaned down. 

“She’s good with words, you should take pointers.” He narrowed his eyes, cause...he was right of course. Clyde stood stiffly, his own face twitching. 

“You mean to tell me Ms. Paint that he is the cause for all this?” Ms. Paint took a deep breath. 

“yes Clyde, but really I will not be discussing this further...” She rubbed her face. “I have a splitting headache as it is so if you don’t mind, please give this wonderful gentlemen anything they need.” She gave them all a kind smile, taking Slick’s hand and looking into his eyes. “I truly can’t thank you all enough...goodnight.” Slick watched her walk up a staircase, as if hypnotised as the rest of the crew followed Clyde down a hallway. Droog looked down at his ankle, cursing. His white pants were bright red and his leg was aching. The bullet wound, he had almost forgotten. The alcohol had masked the pain but it was wearing off. His entire leg groaned in protest, he leaned against the wall as the pain shot up his body and he slid to the floor. 

[lackadaisydreamer]

I cannot get enough of your Midnight Crew fanart, it’s amazing!!

i can stop listening to can't take off my eyes off of you now

[lackadaisydreamer]

This is seething with Serotonin, I am blessed this day thank you

[lackadaisydreamer]

Midnight City Pt. 3

The music filled their ears as the four men sauntered into the front doors of the casino. Flashing lights, well dressed waiters and waitresses. The whole nine yards. Slick narrowed his eyes, scanning the crowd. He gestured for Droog to lean down closer. “Somethings up.” He whispered. “Biggs ain’t here!” He rubbed circles on the ace of spades in his hand. Three, no four checkered suit bastards were in the wings. He could see large guns well concealed to the average eye but there was no mistake, they were all perfectly positioned there for a reason. Slick pulled his hat over his eyes a little. “I’m going to do some digging, he’s bound to have some juicy secrets hidden in his safe, Box? you come with me I’ll need you to crack it.” Box grunted, giving Spades a wide grin. 

“With pleasure...” He chuckled, following Slick into the crowd. Droog looked around to find that Deuce had already stepped away. He sighed, it seemed Deuce was eager to get started. A waiter suddenly appearing to his right and offering a glass of wine from a tray. Droog took a glass with a very graceful and polite nod as he removed his hat. 

“Many thanks, do tell me what is the occasion?” He asked, placing the hat back on his head. The waiter offered a polite bow in return, as one doe for such a perfect gentleman as was before him. 

“It is a charity gala for the hospital, the wine is all compliments of Miss. Paint.” He smiled, seemingly quite pleased to get to tell him that. “She rented out the casino from Mister. Jackpot, and paid for complimentary wine for the guests tonight all out of her own pocket you know, the hospital won’t have to suffer any fees at all for the gala all thanks to her!” Droog nodded, thanking him again then looking about once more. This was very odd indeed, a charity gala but no sight of the patron saint herself; and furthermore still not a glimpse of the gracious host. 

“Something is going on...” He muttered, sipping the wine and keeping a sharp eye on the guards standing watch. “Slick...” He whispered into his watch. “You’re clear to make a run to the backrooms.” Droog told him, smiling to himself. Slick nodded to Box, leading him behind a curtain and into a dark hall. Stealing the floor plan for this place really did come in handy, he unfolded the plans, holding a flashlight in his mouth with narrowed eyes. 

Deuce knew his task, find an isolated location and prepare a present for the checkered bastards and their pig faced dimwit boss. He chuckled to himself, hiding behind a curtain, when he froze. He was left face to face with none other than Crowbar and Clover, “Shit shit shit!” Deuce squeaked, no disguise could hide him from a Felt. They immediately grabbed for him, teeth barred. With that Deuce quickly summoned a couple small grenades. Small range, mostly just for a flashy getaway but damn they were loud as they went off. The curtain burst into flames. 

 Droog, Box, and, Slick all heard Deuce hollering from their watches, “THE DAMN FELTS ARE HERE!” Droog sighed once more, aggravated and tired. He pulled out his ace of diamonds card, summoning a large tommy gun that he fired into the air. The rest of the guests and confused staff members screamed, running for the door. Jackpot’s checkered henchmen all pointed their weapons towards him from the wings, more filing into the main ballroom as the civilians filed out. 

“Batter up.” He muttered, opening fire and taking out two of the guys in the wings before kicking over a table and ducking for cover. He summoned another card, taking out a grenade. Droog pulled the pin with his teeth, wincing from the sharp yank as he threw it behind him, standing up after the explosion rang out. He roared at the top of his lungs, showering a line of checkers with bullets. Half of them fell in pools of deep red blood, others ducking behind the bar or tables. He grimaced, a bullet finding it’s way into his leg. “You better get this through with Slick we don’t have all night!” He hollered into his watch, quickly switching for a handgun as he dove for another table. The previous one crumbled from the bullet holes embedded in it’s polished surface. 

Jackpot roared in frustration, “The hell is going on out there!? You two halfwits keep an eye on her, I’ll send a car to pick you up later...I’m getting the hell out of here...” Ms. Paint accidentally let out a sigh of relief, earning her another sharp slap from Itchy. 

“You’ll be getting worse than that little lady...” Itchy hissed. “That I promise you.” Ms. Paint trembled, pressing her back into the chair in a desperate attempt to put as much space between them as possible. 

Slick stomped his foot, “Dammit! Box, you go help them!” He growled in frustration, running down the hall.” I’ll grab what I can then you guys blow this place to the sky!” He ordered, “I’ll meet you at the car out back.” Box grunted then trudged back to the ballroom. Slick went room to room, unsure about the area. “This is different from the floor plan!” He grumbled, tossing the now useless paper to the ground, “Shit...we’ll be lucky to get out of here alive.” He thought, turning towards the back exit when he heard a familiar voice. Slick narrowed his eyes, turning back and walking down the dark hallway. Slowly. He pressed his back into the wall, horse hitcher in hand. 

“You’re trembling...look at this Die, look at her shaking like that...” Spades growled, so the Felt really were here? He knew that cocky voice from anywhere. He could also hear Die, his quiet mumbly voice responding and amidst their voices...he heard what sounded like a woman, crying.

“Just leave her be Itchy, Biggs wants to deal with her himself.” Itchy scoffed. 

“He wants us to persuade her don’t he? You know...” He chuckled, turning round to face Ms. Paint, leaning in close with a cruel smirk. “Get real business like!” He struck her once more, making Ms. Paint let out a scream as she choked on tears. “Oh look at that...” He squeezed her cheeks, she couldn’t hold it in anymore, the fear chasing away what little fight she had left as she sobbed.

“Please...please...” Was all she could say, begging as she went limp under Itchy’s touch. He chuckled, staring into her eyes. 

 “I do love the ones that cry...” He mused, making Ms. Paint shudder as she turned her face away. 

Slick only saw red, just listening to them made him sick to his stomach. His hands trembling, those bastards...the police he could get behind, attacking a security guard? Fine...but not a lady. Not today, not ever. He roared, kicking down the door from hinges in one fell swoop. Her screams echoing in his mind as he swung his horse hitcher into Die’s head the moment he approached, leaving him twitching and disoriented on the floor. Itchy cursed loudly, scrambling for his gun as Slick launched himself, pinning Itchy to the floor and pounding him. 

Ms. Paint sreamed as he burst in, watching in horror. it was like clockwork, she turned her face away, his hits precise punched Itchy’s face repeatedly. “YOU DON’T LIKE THE TASTE OF YOUR OWN MEDICINE DOC?” He hollered between punches. “WELL..MAYBE YOU?...THE MEDS......OH FUCKING DAMMIT! FORGET IT!” He was too mad to think of a punch line as he pounded Itchy’s face in one more time before turning to look at Ms. Paint. He stood slowly, his breaths heavy as he approached her. 

She was still trembling, simpering as she looked away. “Please! Just leave me alone!” Ms. Paint begged. “Please...” She could tell he was knelt beside her, she couldn’t even look up as her breaths grew short, her heart racing. “Please let me go!” She couldn’t stop crying, she couldn’t even lift her face. His hand touched her face quite suddenly, making her flinch sharply. 

“I’m not going to hurt you...just look at me.” His voice, it was stern but there was no harshness. Not a hint of anger. Ms. Paint let him lift her face, ever so gently, her vision still blurred by tears. Sick took a deep breath, wiping them away with his thumb. “You’re...Ms. Paint.” Why the hell was she here? He wondered, resting his arm on his knee as he looked at her. The bruises on her soft skin alone were enough to make him want to put a bullet into the back of Itchy’s head but... he didn’t think she needed to see that. Ms. Paint was too tired to respond, she could hardly keep her head up. She felt dizzy. Slick cursed to himself, cutting the ropes quickly. “Come on stay with me!” He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to help her keep steady. “Can you walk?” He asked, using the ropes to tie up Die and Itchy by their wrists and ankles. 

She stood very slowly, rubbing her forehead. “I...I can try.” She mumbled, staggering in place. Spades quickly returned to her side, offering his arm. 

“I’ll get you somewhere safe.” He promised, “then maybe you can tell me what the hell is going on here.” He suggested, leading her out of the room with a pistol in hand. Slick peeked his head out first, checking both sides before leading her into the hall. 

In the ballroom the three remaining Midnight Crew members were to put it simply; having a grand old time. Checkers were lying dead in droves, Deuce wore several of their hats all stacked atop his own, Boxcars was wrestling a particularly large one into the ground and Droog was now quite drunk with a wine stain or two on his pristine white blazer was shooting his gun wildly. He managed to kill the last few remaining checkers as they desperately attempted to crawl their way towards the exit. He chugged the last of the wine glass in his hand then threw it to the floor with a shatter. Deuce cackled, watching as the crystal chandelier crashed to the floor.  

Slick lead Ms. Paint through the twisting maze of hallways, away from the rowdiness of the main ballroom. It was hardly the proper place for a lady he thought, leading her to the car parked in the street opposite to the casino out back. “You’re going to be alright, we’ll take it from here.” Ms. Paint looked up at him, slowly pulling something out of the pocket of her dress. A pink shiny business card with her address. 

“We...can go to my home, only myself and my butler will be there tonight...” She rubbed her face, her head pounding. “It will be safe...” Jackpot wouldn’t dare attack her home openly, it would be far too risky. Slick took the card and pocketed it as she finally lost balance. Slick yelped, quickly reaching forward to catch her. 

“Very well Ms. Paint...” He murmured, with a grunt he lifted her into his arms and slid open the door of the car. He helped her get settled into a seat, looking at her for a moment. Her soft cheeks squished against the motheaten car seats as she leaned back in a deep sleep. Slick pulled of his jacket, awkwardly spreading it over her. His face burned a little as he quickly closed the door, locking it behind him. He shoved his hands in his pockets, re-entering the casino to see Deuce swaying and hiccupping, Boxcars snoring on the floor and Droog sitting on a chair with his feet on a table smoking a cigarette. Slick looked around the mess with an impressed nod. “Alright...good work, now let’s wrap this up we have a guest.” 

Slick filled them on with the incident regarding Itchy and Ms. Paint as Boxcars set up the explosives. Their resident demolitions expert was currently being held under Droog’s arm, mumbling something about too many drinks. Droog listened carefully as Slick explained. “I see...and you think she had something to do with Biggs?” Slick nodded. 

“All I know, is that he probably wanted something from her but she wouldn’t give in and he was somehow able to hire the Felt to do his dirty work so something is definitely wrong, they barely listen to Crowbar let alone anyone else.” He lit a match, lighting a rather comically long string attached to an unnecessary amount of tnt. They sped away as the casino went aflame, half of it blowing up in a fiery inferno. 

[lackadaisydreamer]

Oh my gosh I reposted this on the wrong account, anyways amazing art! 

i'm the king of fools cos baby you're the queen of white lies

[lackadaisydreamer]

Midnight City pt 2

Boxcars growled and readjusted his collar. He stared as his reflection with disapproval. He could hardly believe this, “white suits? Fucking dammit Droog WHITE SUITS?!” He added, roaring from the rather untidy bathroom to Droog who was reclining on a couch. “We’re the most dangerous, feared men of Midnight City and you have us dressed like we’re a damn barbershop quartet!” He barked. “And I...can’t...PUT ON THIS STUPID BOWTIE!” He threw the now rumpled strip of fabric to the ground. Deuce sat nearby on a rather large armchair that he had long since claimed as his own; despite the fact that his feet didn’t even reach over the cushion. He was sighing, puffing on a large cigar. 

“I told you we should have gotten him a clip on.” He blew out a cloud of smoke, watching it rise to the mildew stained ceiling of their decrepit hideout. Boxcars growled, looming over Clubs. 

“What? You actually like these stupid monkey suits?” Boxcars retorted before  a voice called over to them from the shadows, Slick emerged straightening his tie. 

“Would you quit the canoodling and get a room? Or maybe take your complaints to someone that gives a damn?” He snapped. “I don’t like this any more than you do but Droog is right...we can’t just break in to Jackpot’s casino, we have to be subtle until the perfect opportunity.” He grabbed the bowtie off the floor, attempting to and failing quite miserably to tie it for Box. “DAMMIT WILL YOU PLEASE JUST SQUAT YOU OVERGROWN STEAMROLLER!”  Box stooped over for Slick to reach his neck with a sigh, akin to a little boy not wanting to wear his Sunday best. He picked something out of his teeth as Slick set to work trying to straighten out the rest of his outfit. He was amazed that a grown man struggled that much with a damn suit. 

“Why do you even want to mess with Biggs anyway?” Clubs asked. “He’s done a few crimes sure but he’s no bigtimer.” Slick finished the bow tie then grabbed the paper out of Droog’s hands. He didn’t even flinch. Spades threw down the paper on the coffee table, it was the front page. 

“FLASH FIRE! Midnight Crew to Blame? In a mysterious fire meant to cover up an alleged bank robbery two night guards were killed, but no one was seen. Could this be the work of the nefarious Midnight Crew?” Slick crossed his arms. 

“We don’t involve civilians for one, and two...IF WE DID WE WOULD COVER IT UP BETTER THAN THAT DAMMIT!” He shook his fists. “AMATEUR, SLOPPY! They dare pin this hackjob on me? They didn’t even set the fire in the right place to properly cover their tracks!? IDIOTS!” Droog took a drag of his cigarette putting it out in an ash tray that was much too full. 

“We get it, now let’s just get this over with.” He sighed. 

Ms. Paint was trembling, ropes scratching her soft skin as she tried to not make a sound. She was unfamiliar with the two men that now sat with her in the small room. It was older, undeveloped with rather richly pattered carpet rolled and left aside. Sheets protected furniture from dust and the thick door was shut but had no lock so one of them was stationed by the entrance. Though indeed she did not know their names make no mistake, the green well pressed suits betrayed their identities. The Felt. The one by the door had a tall dark green hat with a wide brim, and kept wringing his hands. The other kept pacing in circles in front of her, he had a slight twitch to him, his eyes wide and unhinged. He kept smirking at her. “Itchy, quit the pacing you’re making me nervous.” The other scoffed, not even looking up from the door. The one called itchy snickered, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“And what are you so nervous about Die?” He sighed. “Ah who am I fooling even still air makes you nervous.” He cackled loudly, making Ms. Paint flinch. Her movement seemed to draw his attention, like a wolf cornering a rabbit. “You scared little missy?” He cooed, approaching steadily. Die rolled his eyes, trembling a little as he looked over. 

“If you hurt her before we’re told you know that he’s not gonna like that.” He warned. “Crowbar wants to make this deal work, you better not do anything stupid.” He spoke with slight pauses between words, his lips struggling to cooperate making him pause on certain sounds. Yet he spoke with a surprising calmness despite his shaky demeanor. Itchy groaned, only a short ways from me. Paint.  

“Fine, but no funny business from you toots...or else” He smiled, a switchblade suddenly opened inches from her face. She gasped, leaning back farther in the chair. Her eyes were wide with terror. Itchy laughed, putting away the knife. “Oh...” He sighed, “that never gets old.” Ms. Paint composed herself, shaking as much as Die. “What does fatso even want her for anyway?” Die shrugged. 

Ms. Paint grit her teeth. “He wants my money, what else?” She snapped. Itchy snarled, his attention back to her. 

“You watch that mouth of yours.” He warned. His voice nothing more than a growl, low and to the point like the knife that was once more in her direction. Footsteps approached them, turning both Felt members towards the door. Biggs walked in, towering over both of them with that familiar smile and curled moustache. 

“Miss. Paint, I do hope you’ve gotten comfortable...now why don’t we continue our little business meeting?” He asked, puffing on his cigar in plumes of revolting smoke that made her wrinkle her nose. She pulled against the ropes burning with rage. 

“I will never be your patron! I can’t believe you, you have hurt and killed countless people with your crimes!” She hissed. “You will not get one cent from me Biggs!” Ms. Paint clenched her fists, her arms tightly bound to the arms of the chair. “You hear me you monster!? NEVER!” Ms. Paint screamed. Biggs snapped his fingers and Itchy punched her in the gut, knocking out the wind. She coughed, gasping for breath. 

“I’ll give you forty eight hours, if you somehow miraculously survive and still refuse?” He laughed, “well let’s just allow you to imagine the rest shall we?” His laughter filled the room; making chills run up her spine. He was looming over her, his hand clasped around her neck as he lifted her up chair and all. She was shaking, squeezing her eyes shut as she gasped for air. That was when they heard a very loud explosion. 

[lackadaisydreamer]

Your Midnight Crew fanart is gonna end me oh my lord 

pleasure doin' business with ya.