#gallows tattoo

[biorust-art]

Familiars on the gallows

--

Idk, something about Pate and Mother hanging out and dancing on the gallows itched my brain!

[Image Description. Drawing of Pate De Rolo and Prism’s familiar, Mother, from Critical Role. Pate and Mother hang out on an overgrown gallows, Mother sits on the high beam looking down at Pate, who hangs upside down on the rope and looks up to Mother. The background is purple, with a white circle tinted out behind Mother and red glowing lights bob all around them. End ID]

[notoriousmasc]

been working on a project lately

[mattydemise]

Flectere si nequeo superos

[mitchellpenney56]

Kucci tattoos.

[smolwitch]

seeing all this stuff about fathers day just reminded me of something funny that happened at me last job

so, spoiler alert, I am a fatherless heathen going on 6 years this year. a year or two ago, coming up to father's day, one of my coworkers was talking about how she knew someone who made glass mementos and how they would be a really cool fathers day gift.

except she was saying this to me. directly to me. as if suggesting that I should look into it.

my blunder was that I thought she knew I was without father, so the whole time I'm leaning against the pallet we're working on like the fucking willy wonka meme, super amused and waiting for her to remember that I don't celebrate fathers day, and she's just oblivious until she catches my look that I'm giving her.

so she's like "what? what's that look for?" and I, blunt as ever, same willy-wonka-ass look, remind her that my dad is dead.

to her credit, she took it really well, and I apologised for being so blunt and amused when I realised she didn't know beforehand.

I'm in a new job now, and I cannot wait for someone to ask >:)

is it dark as fuck to find it amusing? yes.

is my gallows humour on point? also yes.

I suppose thats the risk you take talking to someone about parents :D

[dramioneasks]

Top 10 Most “Kudos-ed” (Completed) Fics on AO3 of 2024:

BLOODY, SLUTTY, AND PATHETIC by WhatMurdah - E, 21 chapters, Words: 195,969 - “In my humble opinion there’s only three things that men should be and that is bloody, slutty, and pathetic.” And, on a good day, Draco Malfoy can be all three. When war heroine Hermione Granger and Azkaban-tattooed war criminal Draco Malfoy are forced to wed as part of Shacklebolt’s controversial Reconciliation Act, they openly fight the match and each other—their public brawls breathlessly reported by the press. Secretly, a deeply traumatized Draco delights in Hermione’s attention and pines for a real marriage with her—even as her forced proximity to the Black family magic irritates the cursed scar Bellatrix left on her arm, reminding her why she can never truly trust or forgive him. Then Hermione discovers that Draco’s blood will soothe the scar . . . and Draco is willing to trade his blood for her body. (With post-war blood purity politics, black market potioneers, Pansy Parkinson’s career advice, the Malfoys blackmailing Hermione’s Wizengamot opposition, BDE Neville Longbottom hunting Death Eaters, a slutty Theo Nott serving as Draco’s right-hand man, and Crookshanks loose in Malfoy Manor.)

The Gallows by gillianeliza - E, 23 chapters, Words: 47,332 - Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts the Ministry of Magic has one more wizard to bring to trial: Draco Malfoy. However, it's not a trial they're after, it's a spectacle to celebrate the end of the Death Eater regime with the execution of their final prisoner. When Hermione realizes their plan, she halts the trial and invokes The Gallows Law — an ancient law that pardons any pureblood male without an heir if a witch will marry him. What Hermione isn't ready for is the reality of bonding a broken, shell of a wizard and her new life as she moves into Malfoy Manor as the new Lady Malfoy.

Meet Me In Dreamland by sinflower81 - E, 39 chapters, Words: 229,631 - If there’s one thing Hermione Granger is good at, it’s using magic to fix her problems. And this time, her problem is sex. Luckily, she has the perfect solution: a locket enchanted with the Patented Daydream Charm. Whenever she opens it, she’ll find herself in Dreamland, where she can live out all her filthiest fantasies risk-free. The magic is a bit tricky, though. For some reason, Malfoy keeps showing up there with her. Thank goodness it’s only an illusion—if that was really him, she would never live it down. Meanwhile, Draco is determined to figure out who the fuck is cursing him to suffer through highly realistic, erotic hallucinations of his secret childhood crush. When he finds the culprit, there will be hell to pay.

The Missing Sister by singularritae - M, 75 chapters, Words: 652,727 - The owl appeared late at night and left just as suddenly, he recognised the handwriting immediately and ripped open the envelope. She is yours. If something happens to us, I want you to hide her. Name her Hermione, for she will have my last libation before I sleep and be the messenger of dreamers. Moony and Mary know. Three words. Three words that forever changed the course of the war.

A Gallows Marriage by MilaBelle - E, 31 chapters, Words: 162,244 - “Glee was the last thing she felt staring into the empty eyes that should have been a bright grey. His face had always looked pointed and sharp, but now that gave way to gauntness. His hair, which he had been so particular about in school, hung long and limp. It reminded her of how his father had looked in his mugshot. How he had wanted to be just like his father growing up. And now he was, maybe more than ever. A ghost.” After doing more than her fair share in saving the Wizarding World and bearing the scars of what it cost, Hermione Granger thinks she has earned herself a little respite. But when a charismatic albeit chaotic Theodore Nott convinces her to use an old law to save a dear friend who is about to meet the Dementor’s Kiss, she simply cannot stand by and watch. Follow Hermione as she navigates a world that still believes in blood status, a marriage to save the life of an old enemy and the hurt that comes with surviving.

an ever-fixed mark by ninepiecesofcrait - E, 28 chapters, Words: 208,118 - It was a comedy of errors how Hermione Granger ended up engaged to Draco Malfoy, really. A series of unfortunate events. // Malfoy looked at his bloodied hand and the ring on the cobblestone floor, and sighed. “Well, Granger.” Grey eyes finally raised to look at her. “Now look what you’ve done.” // [while working to break a curse in malfoy’s cellar, hermione accidentally touches an enchanted betrothal heirloom from the noble house of black. things rapidly fall apart from there.]

The Best Mistake by Chels_Writes_a_Fic - E, 26 chapters, Words: 127,444 - Hermione Granger does not make mistakes, at least not often. After making the biggest, dumbest, most horrible mistake of her life, Hermione must deal with the repercussions while keeping her relationship with her Auror partner, Draco Malfoy, strictly professional. He, of course, has other plans. Amidst a resurgence in Death Eater activity, the likes of which Britain hasn’t seen since the First Wizarding War, Hermione will come to realize that the mistake she’s made with Draco might not be so bad at all. It just might be the best mistake.

disparate by Stars_in_motion - E, 4 chapters, Words: 40,708 - au where omegas who go neglected by their alpha for a long time often go into breakthrough heats when being around a different, compatible alpha who displays one (1) caretaking trait around them "You– you brought me supper?" Malfoy eyed her warily. "Don't look so stricken. Do you think I haven't noticed you've been starving yourself for days? You were at your desk when I arrived this morning and haven't moved since." He opened the box of fruit and plucked out a single grape with his sinfully long fingers. Still seated in her desk chair, Malfoy loomed over her entirely so she couldn't look anywhere else. Sometimes it was easier to forget how large he really was. "Now eat."

Mind the Bump by Soap1 - E, 28 chapters, Words: 84,050 - Hermione Granger and her colleague (and, though she sometimes hates to admit it, her friend) Theo Nott, are busy at the Research Institute for the Alchemical Sciences, working together on an innovative, though secretive, project that more than one person might like to get their hands on. She doesn't have much time for dating, and certainly isn't ready to think about starting a family. But after an exciting, though unexpected, one-night stand, she finds herself pregnant. With Draco Malfoy's baby. As her research continues, as her pregnancy progresses, will she be able to make room for Draco in her life?

Détraquée by Hystaracal - M, 108 chapters, Words: 728,097 - "All her growth was the conveying of a corpse of hope." (From 'The Rainbow', D.H. Lawrence) This is a story about coming into one's own, a meditation on the twilight of girlhood and the violence of crash-landing into womanhood. Follow Hermione as she navigates through the quagmire: Saving the world, getting top grades, falling in love, lust, and a whole lot of trouble, and comes out of it hopefully (at least) partially sane.

[tillpulpanek]

Two for Kevin from last week… Thx for looking! #tattoo #traditionaltattoo #realtattoo #blackandgreytattoo #scythe #rose #gallows #blacktraditionals #finelinetattooing #finelinesingleneedle #realistictattoo #realisticink #germantattooers #blackworkerssubmission #blackinkarmy #evolvedmagazine #tattookulturemagazine #tttism #tillpulpanek #düsseldorf https://www.instagram.com/p/CpuFIR9s6wL/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[chantssecrets]

Billy Childish, (b. 1959), Self Portrait with Gallows Tattoo, not dated.

[horrorshow]

a season 4(ish) fic rec list focusing on the emotional aftermath of dean going to hell and coming back, and what could have been, for @spnficrecfest

WALLS COME TUMBLING by destina sam/dean, 3.2k, rated E Sam was stupid last time, when Uriel snatched Dean away without warning. Stupid, and unprepared. He won't make that mistake again.

NO ONE IS ASKING (SO LEAVE IT ALONE) by xzombiexkittenx sam/dean, 9.4k, rated E Everyone has their coping mechanisms. Sam’s getting everything under control, one step at a time.

THE EVERLASTING GAZE by fleshflutter cas & dean, 1k It's a strange thing to hate your saviour. Dean doesn't remember Hell, not really. He doesn't remember Castiel putting his hand on him, drawing him up through the fire and blood. But there's a huge, frozen horror hidden in the back of his head. It creeps into his other thoughts.

SLEEPING BEAUTY by deadlybride sam/dean, rated M, 1.3k March 12, 2009. Sam rescues Dean from Alastair.

MORALITY ENDS WHERE A GUN BEGINS by lazy_daze sam/dean, 3.1k, rated E Sam hates the handprint and stares at it when Dean comes out of the shower in just a towel. It hardly even makes him feel better to see the stark lines of Dean's tattoo still on his skin, the same mark over Sam's own heart.

HIT THE GROUND CRAWLING by jonny_vrm sam/dean, 28k, rated E After Sam pulls Dean out of Hell, Dean stops talking. It takes a week for Sam to convince Dean to open his mouth so Sam can check that his tongue hasn't been cut out. It takes two weeks for Sam to accept that Dean really isn't talking. Then it takes a week of silence, the two of them sitting in the Impala like ventriloquist dummies, sitting in motel rooms like human taxidermy, before Sam decides to start talking for the both of them.

DEVIL'S TRAP by ratherastory alastair/dean, 3.8k There is water dripping slowly onto the Devil's Trap, and Dean doesn't care. AU where Sam is unable to kill Alastair in 4x16, exploring Alastair's relationship with Dean further.

PASSION by deadlybride sam/dean, 2.5k, rated M Hell reflects its ruler. Hell is, always, essentially Hell.

YOU TAKE IT WITH YOU by lazy_daze sam/dean, 30k, rated E Sam saves the world, and he brings Dean back from a month in Hell, but that's when things start to get complicated. Dean's cheated death before, but this time, it's different – Dean's spirit is unable to re-enter his body. Can Sam and Bobby work out how to reunite Dean's body and spirit? And how will Dean cope if they can't? From hunts in the Chicago lakes to visits to the Grand Canyon, with dreams, handjobs and hookers along the way, Sam and Dean ride it out and learn all over again how to live this life and live it together.

EMPTY SPACES by mariahlee dean, dean & sam, gen, 4.3k Hell? Consistent. He knew what to expect. Now, topside, everything is different. The world he used to know forty years ago is almost completely unfamiliar.

HANGMAN IS COMING DOWN FROM THE GALLOWS by withdiamonds sam/dean, 28k, rated E Today is the last day of Dean Winchester's life. Today is the last day of Dean Winchester's life. Today is the last day…

I ONLY DREAM OF YOU, MY BEAUTIFUL by sophie_448 sam/dean, 1.2k, rated M The last hours of the year are ticking by, and Sam realizes that there's no way to save Dean.

THE FIRESTARTER by jaimeykay dean & alastair, gen, 13k Set during On the Head of a Pin. While he waits for Dean, Alastair reminisces on what brought them together. Those forty years? Were delicious.

LIKE ROCK SALT WITHOUT A SHOTGUN by lazy_daze sam/dean, 2.8k, rated M Sam thought maybe, when it was all over, when he'd used his powers to their limit and stuffed all the demons back into hell and vaporized Lilith and nearly killed himself in the process -- he'd thought maybe they'd go.

THE DEVIL'S WATER IT AIN'T SO SWEET by xxamlaxx alastair/dean + cas/dean, nc-17 Dean comes back from hell with something extra.

HUNGRY AND HALLOW by hathfrozen sam/dean, 14k, rated E "Sorry," Dean gasps, going to tug the gun away, throw it to the floor, probably. It’s different—it was never okay, and this is—it’s different, what the fuck is he doing. Sam says, “Don’t," as he stretches his neck out and to the side slightly, opening it up to the cool press of the metal barrel.

HOWL VERSE by paxlux sam/dean, 85k, rated E In Hell, people change. Or they stay the same.

I FEEL FLAMES AGAIN by fleshflutter sam/dean, 12k, rated R Following a failed apocalypse, Dean nurses Sam through his addiction to demon's blood, which has driven Sam to horrific things.

FAITH WITHOUT WORKS IS DEAD by deadlybride sam/dean, 2.4k, rated E Sam does what he has to do.

SO FAR FROM YOUR WEAPON/DIG, LAZARUS, DIG by maypoles sam & dean, gen S4, Dean has an especially effed up relationship with pain now, Sam finds out/realises / After "On The Head Of A Pin," Dean has a bit of a breakdown.

[apollosunshineisdead]

my favorite lyric or two from every will wood song

Everything is a Lot:

6up 5oh: "they shoulda fried me, I'll give ya PTSD!"

skeleton Appreciation Day: "give me all your LSD so i can feel my mind unweave again!"

front Street: "you said let loose, but now you're lost"

aikido!: "i told doctor tillis to prescribe an illness, but he said his schedule's filled with children with need Prozac, prilosec and lo-jack, triple-sec and lexapro"

white Knuckle Jerk: "i wonder how i woke up in the middle of my surgery, and i watched them botch my heart"

cover This Song!: "i'm just a little bit crazy 'bout you, just a little bit out of my mind"

Thermodynamic Lawyer: "so all that i see, absolute entropy as the chemical bounds fall apart"

red Moon: "the crescent rests, tethered to the west"

lysergide Daydream: "ooh, i wanna be on the picture on the postcard, pouring pitchers in the backyard by the garden we tend"

the First Step: "i lost count after 21 in the college crawl"

jimmy Mushrooms': "i think the truth is that everyone's wrong!"

Compound Fracture: "bienvenidos a la villa de arañas españas"

everything is a Lot: "night sky, i wonder why i am alive until i die / i find that at this size, no answer can be right"

destroy to Enjoy: "lao tzu, chaung tzu, yin-yang tattoos, FUCK your mystic wisdom! find your own way home from Bonnaroo!"

SELF-iSH:

self-: "i'll shake the apples from my family tree, so when the autumn comes to take the leaves..."

2012: "testing my hypothesis, never finding a theory!"

cotard's Solution: "rolling my third eye into the back, of my head and squinting through the black"

mr. Capgras: "eulogy or biography, i'm who i ought to be, and that is God to me"

the Song with 5 Names: "WHAT IS "IS"? WHAT IS "NOT"? WHAT IS "WHAT"? WHAT'S UP PARTY PEOPLE! WHAT? / WHY I WONDER WHY I'M NOT WHATEVER, WHAT THE FUCK!"

hand Me My Shovel: "looking up, i could say Heaven sent me! / hand me my shovel, i'm going in!"

dr. Sunshine is Dead: "i'm noone if i'm nowhere in between!"

-ish: "well at 27 will i see, that i was born to be the man i'll be?"

The Normal Album:

greetings from Mary Bell Township!: "so give me your half-life crisis / i can tell that you know where paradise is!"

(vampire) Culture: come on, drink that BLOOD! didn't they want your blood?

Love Me, normally: the Lord looked down, said, "hey, you're only mortal"

2econd 2ight 2eer: "my grip on the secrets' slippin' while i'm speakin' in tongues!"

laplace's Angel: "so if you wash your hands of where you've been until you flood the second floor / neatly fold your skeletons, but still can't shut the closet door"

i/Me/myself: "eating your prosthetic, meet your anesthetic"

...well, better than the Alternative: "she's gonna be a lot like me, but i don't wanna be at all like me"

outliars And Hyppocrates: "i am the shadows cast aside by gallows, and you, the red hot sky"

blackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA: "his ribcage was a hornet's nest, his palpitations set the beat!"

marsha, thankk you for the Dialects: "doctor, what's my prognosis if the studies show that / disease is in the eye of the beholder, tell me "so it goes!""

love, Me Normally: "is there nothing to fear, cuz shit's getting weird!"

memento Mori: "no need to fear cuz when it's Here you won't be alive / try not to think about it!"

Camp Here & There: Campfire Songs:

venetian Blind Man: "string on his finger, a tourniquet ring"

yes, to err is Human: "if you don't hate me, then reanimate me!"

your body, My Temple: "furthering the fever of your fervor for believing, I will"

when somebody Needs you: "fishing lure moon on a string for you, didn't you say you need space?"

"In Case I Make It,"

tomcat Disposables: "what's the moon made of? meet me there after i'm gone"

becoming The Lastnames: "weeding out the garden where the milestones gather moss"

Cicada Days: "here at the end of days, my god, what have I done? / christ, now it feels damn inhumane to get all i dreamed of"

euthanasia: "and every, everybody dies / fighting for their lives, just trying to survive"

falling Up: "airplane eclipses over spirals of math – would or could the impact kill me?"

that's Enough, let's get you Home: "but CO2 and fish tanks do enough to get you home"

um, it's Kind of a Lot: "sorry darling, please excuse my constant need to self-aggrandize!"

half-Decade Hangover: "but i can't make amends for things i can't remember"

vampire Reference in a Minor Key: "the seraphim on my shoulder, whispering "please don't turn your head""

you liked this: "Ten Red Flags that a Neurotypical Narcissist is Trauma Dump Gaslighting You into Sex-Negative Self-Abuse Emotional Labor and Internalised Reverse Racism Against Post-Modern Flat Earthers with Facts and Logic (Number Seven Will Destroy Your Family)"

the Main Character: "judge me by what my cover shows, author becomes beyond reproach"

Against the Kitchen Floor: "i'm not a good person, i'm barely a person at all"

Sex, Drugs, Rock 'n' Roll: "and i hate proving that i'm still human after all"

BFB's Blueberry Pie: " "

Willard!: "so gather 'round pandora's skinner's box, look through the one-way mirror / if you can see in shade's of grey, the colors are much clearer"

White Noise: "it begs the question just to tell you the answer!"

ICIMI outtakes:

misanthrapologist: "I hear your hear beating under the floorboards" and if i did, you deserved it: "that i really don't carе what you think or what you say, either that or I do way too much, oh well whatever, either way"

thank you for listening

[johnschneiderblog]

Mine forever

Somehow, I managed to escape from the Navy without a tattoo, then lived the next 55 years or so uninked ... until Wednesday.

When I learned last month that son-in-law Tony Wilson was designing a batch of "flash" tattoos (so called because they're relatively quick and require no appointment) as an item of merch at Lord Huron/Red Rocks, I knew my time had come.

I perused the options and instantly decided upon the tombstone - a reference to the LH song "Not Dead Yet." Aware of my fondness for gallows humor, my daughter predicted it.

It's especially appropriate for a person of my vintage, wouldn't you say ...?

These photos show the process, the options and the end result.

[mattydemise]

Uh-oh, I booked in for more head tattoos.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 2 (this is a fluff fic - and Ruhn is babysitting Nesta in chapter 3)

The thrill of a day off with no commitments fell flat when Hunt spent most of his night worrying that he’d find a blonde female floating in the Istros – if the sobeks hadn’t eaten her first. When it was socially acceptable to be out, he was already flying the short distance to the hotel that Ruhn Danaan had paid for to check on her.

His knuckles felt too heavy on the door as he knocked.

After the day Nesta had, he’d not blame her if she was still asleep.

The door was pulled back and she stood perfectly put together with no traces of sleep remaining. Her gorgeous burnished-gold hair was pinned up, hiding her ears. Hunt looked twice at her clothes – his clothes. They hung loose on her frame, but there was no missing the generous breasts that the material clung to. Midgard suited her.

‘Oh, good. You’re here.’

Well, it made a change for somebody to look forward to the Umbra Mortis arriving at their door even if her tone didn’t imply that.

‘I’ve made a list of things I don’t understand. This for instance,’ she said, switching the light on and off. ‘How have you harnessed faelights into that glass orb?’

‘A lightbulb. It’s firstlight.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘Another thing for the list.’

‘When you make the Drop, you give part of your firstlight to the city. That’s how we power everything,’ he explained. ‘You don’t make the Drop?’

‘The only drop I know is a short drop from the gallows, so no, Hunt.’

A piece of paper with neatly-written notes covering it was thrust into his face while she beckoned him into the room. Nesta had cracked open the windows, pulled the sheets tight over the bed and her leathers were folded onto the chair.

‘I didn’t think to bring you fresh clothes today.’

Nesta shrugged a shoulder. ‘I’ve only just put these on.’

‘Did you sleep naked?’ The question shot out of his mouth before he could trap it.

She scowled, cheeks going pink. ‘I’m not answering that.’

That would be a yes.

When Nesta turned through the room, giving it a once-over, Hunt glimpsed a flash of black on her back through the slits of his top. A tattoo maybe. As she moved, it became evident to him that Nesta wore no bra. Hunt’s traitorous eyes kept gravitating towards the bounce of her breasts until he forced himself to give his undivided attention to the list.

‘Hey, let’s get you some clothes for the next few days plus breakfast and I’ll answer these questions.’

‘Fine,’ she replied.

‘And you have to answer some of my questions.’

‘Some of them.’

Lunathion began to wake with the commuters filling the paths. Those with wings flitted overhead to avoid the rush. Nesta had no concept of road safety; Hunt may as well have been walking alongside a toddler. Twice, she’d stepped into the road to clear space on the path without even looking. He’d had to haul her against him before a scooter mowed her down.

‘I can’t tell if people are staring at me or you,’ she said as a leopard shifted gasped and pulled out their cell to snap a photo of him.

‘Me,’ he replied flatly. ‘I’m the Um-’

Hunt cut himself off. Nesta did not know who he was. What he’d done. What he still did. For once, he could just be Hunt.

‘The Um?’ She teased. ‘Did you forget your name?’

‘I’m known in Lunathion for my work in the 33rd.’ He lay a hand on her shoulder, guiding Nesta across the road at a crossing towards a lingerie boutique – the kind of place the Umbra Mortis had never been caught dead in.

Everything was red. And velvet. With posters of females in push-up bras with the tagline “something extra special” or “for him”.

Nesta was just as bemused as he was. ‘Is this some kind of pleasure hall?’

‘Like a brothel? You have those in your world?’

Colour rose in her cheeks again – and damn if it wasn’t the prettiest thing.

‘I don’t frequent them.’

One of the workers, a deer shifter by the scent, offered a polite smile. ‘Do you need help?’

‘Uh,’ said Hunt, jerking his thumb towards Nesta. ‘She needs a bra.’

‘What’s a bra?’

Luna, help him.

The worker smiled again. ‘Do you know what size you are?’

‘All my clothes are tailormade,’ she replied.

‘I can do a fitting. This way.’

Nesta stared at him over her shoulder as she followed the female towards the fitting rooms. He tried not to pay much attention to the abundance of lace and satin and tassels. And definitely tried to steer his thoughts away from imagining that drop-dead gorgeous female wearing them.

After a while, the worker returned to the counter. Nesta popped her head out of the curtain.

‘Hunt,’ she hissed. ‘Hunt Athalar.’

Hunt shrugged at her.

‘Help me.’

Her bare back was offered at the gap in the heavy, velvet curtains. An eight-pointed star was tattooed in black ink across her spine. Did she have more?

‘How am I supposed to put this contraption on?’

Hunt reached for each end to pull them together. ‘My experience is usually in taking them off, not doing them up.’

‘I don’t wish to know about your conquests.’

The moment it was clasped, Nesta leapt away, drawing the curtain closed too – then her face emerged once more. ‘I presume you are paying to clothe me?’

‘I guess so,’ he grumbled.

He could always bill Ruhn Danaan and the bank of daddy.

‘Hunt?’

‘Nesta.’

‘I need underwear.’

For the blush that came again, Hunt would buy her whatever underwear she wanted. He held up a few across the store, her face growing redder each time. When he asked her if she was commando beneath his sweat pants, a confused look crossed her face.

‘Bareback,’ he clarified.

Nesta snatched the underwear – a black, lacy thong – from his hand and muttered something about males in every world being insufferable.

***

This city was vibrant and diverse in a way that Velaris wasn’t. Even if Hunt grew fed up of her pausing to admire their technology, he still let her grow roots on the spot so she could wonder how something worked before inevitably explaining it in a way she could understand. Every citizen was required to donate a portion of their magic to the city to ensure it continued working. It was a tithe of sorts.

It was difficult not to stare at the Vanir, as Hunt had called them, as they walked through the sunlit streets. Velaris had high fae. Other places she had visited had lesser fae. Here, Nesta saw people who could change at will into a variety of animals. Some, Hunt explained, were wolves and she was warned to steer clear of a Sabine and a Danika who patrolled the streets. Hunt’s species enforced the law set by the Asteri.

‘Supreme rulers whose word is law,’ he said.

Nesta snorted at that. ‘I’ve got one in my world. His name is Rhysand.’

‘He’s your king?’

‘Oh, he wishes. No. My sister’s mate. And a pain in my ass.’ Since this malakh had been so helpful in finding her underwear that constantly needed plucking from her backside, Nesta explained, ‘We have no kings. The land in which I live is divided into seven courts and each is ruled by a High Lord. Rhysand is the High Lord of the Night Court. Feyre is the High Lady.’

‘So, you’re fae royalty?’

‘Ha ha ha,’ she said, the sarcasm thick in her voice. ‘No. I am a problem. Nothing more.’

They took their drinks – black coffee for him and camomile tea for her – to a bench beside a park where children were running freely across the grass, throwing balls or playing games. There was such a freedom to Lunathion with species mixing readily.  

‘How did you wind up here – off the record?’

‘We have a Prison for foul creatures from nightmares. I was searching for an object and found the Harp. It trapped me. The damn thing promised to let me out if I plucked a string then I was falling.’ Nesta ran a finger around the rim of the cup. ‘They have no idea what happened to me.’

And she doubted that they’d care either. The loss of the Harp would be their biggest gripe.

‘Ruhn Danaan has paid for that hotel for a week, so once Vik’s ran her tests, you can drift back off into the stars.’

Nesta smiled at that. ‘I could end up somewhere completely different.’

‘Like Hel.’

The angel explained that they knew of another world – one named Hel – where cruel princes ruled and demons leaked through into Midgard. It was his responsibility to identify them and track them down.

‘Which came first, the name or the profession?’

Hunt gave a wry grin. ‘Everybody calls me it. My mother named me Orion.’

‘Orion,’ she repeated. ‘I like it. Does your mother live in the city?’

His face fractured slightly then he extended a hand to her, signalling that they were to walk. ‘No. She’s not alive anymore.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

‘Do you have other family or just a high lady sister?’

‘Two sisters. My mother died when I was young and my father died in the war.’

‘The war,’ he repeated. ‘When was it?’

It felt like an eternity and no time at all.

‘Just over a year ago.’

Hunt’s brows rose. ‘You fought in it?’

Not by choice, Nesta thought. Because the Cauldon cursed me with magic that made me into a weapon.

‘Yes. The king of Hybern used my father as a shield then killed him. My sister, Elain, stabbed the king.’

‘She killed him?’

‘No.’ But if it hadn’t been for Elain subduing him, Nesta and Cassian would both be dead. ‘I decapitated him.’

At that, Hunt grinned. ‘Bloodthirsty. What does your tattoo mean?’

Nesta blew out a long breath. She’d only seen snippets of it in the mirror at odd angles with her chin tucked onto her shoulder. ‘I wasn’t in a good place so my sister staged an intervention. Cassian – a friend – made a deal that if I trained then he’d give me a favour.’

‘That tattoo is magic?’

‘Yes,’ she confirmed. ‘Is yours?’

The urge to brush her fingers across the halo on his forehead was difficult to suppress. At the mention of it, Hunt touched it and winced.

‘It’s a slave brand. Witch ink.’ He lifted his hand to show her the letters stamped on his wrist. ‘The Asteri’s mark. I belong to them and Micah – an archangel.’

The words hung in the air between them turning the summer’s day cold. Hunt Athalar was a slave which explained why he spent his day off with her rather than friends or family. He had nobody else.

They walked alongside the river, the Istros, in silence.

‘If you want to be free, pluck the Harp. Come to Velaris.’

It was half an offer. From the bulk of his arms, Hunt could fight. Amren would rub her hands together at the sight of another weapon to be added to the Night Court’s arsenal. But maybe it offered a better life than slavery. Nesta didn’t know.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘No coffee there though.’

A furry creature wearing a yellow jacket scurried in front of them then leapt into the river. Its head bobbed above the current before the whole animal swooped below. Before Nesta could even ask, Hunt paused from his walking to point out another that was scrambling up the bank on the other side.

‘Messenger otters. They deliver letters to the mer.’

***

How long had it been since Hunt viewed the world with anything more than cynicism? It was hard not to fall into the same wonder as Nesta when she found delight in every little thing. Often, Hunt struggled to explain how things worked in a way that Nesta would understand because he’d never questioned it himself. It was a given that it worked. If there was time during the week, he’d take her to the library – and likely lose her in there.

After a day spent exploring every single avenue of Lunathion – except the Meat Market – they retreated back to her hotel room when a drizzle rolled in with the grey clouds. Even that didn’t stop her enthusiasm. Nesta made him coffee using the kettle in the room. She flipped the switches, waited in front of it as it began to boil then made a noise of triumph when the switch clicked itself off. She’d poured in three sachets of the crappy instant coffee that the hotel provided, but Hunt drank it because he couldn’t bear to take that joy from her expression.

Nesta had given him a lot to think about. For every eighteen questions he answered, Nesta would give up one of her own answers about her world. It sounded rudimentary in ways – their technology lacking massively – but their magic seemed more powerful. She remained coy about her own, claiming she had no magic. Nesta was hunting magical objects from a trove. If she was like him and could detect such things the way he could detect demons, Nesta Archeron was far from powerless.

His cell phone held all of her attention now.

While sprawled out on the firm hotel bed, he’d switched on the television. A crap chick-flick was on but it required no brain power to follow the plot. He’d surrendered his cell to her because there was nothing incriminating on it. Nesta lay beside him with the pillows wedged under her head. Her white tee rose up slightly exposing a strip of her stomach. The complaints about her tight jeans ebbed when she realised it was the fashion in Lunathion – but Hunt had no complaints whatsoever. The plain, dressed-down look suited her although none would dare call her plain.

‘You have no portraits,’ she commented.

‘Photos,’ he corrected.

‘Will you teach me how?’

Hunt leaned in towards her. ‘It’s tricky. See that button? Press it.’

The click of the capture button sounded and then she was off. Nesta strode around the room documenting everything, including him.

‘We must sit for hours in my world to have a portrait painted. How lovely that you can make a memory so easily.’

‘You sound ancient, Nesta.’

She knelt on the edge of the bed to take a close up of his face. ‘I’m twenty-five.’

Hunt groaned. ‘I’m older than you by a good two hundred years.’

‘Cassian is over five hundred years old.’

‘That’s twice you’ve mentioned that name.’

‘Keeping count?’

Hunt inclined his head, waiting for more. Nesta came to sit beside him again on her pile of pillows. She wiggled her toes which were in fluffy rabbit socks. ‘Cassian is… a somebody. We’re involved. Sometimes. I don’t know.’

‘Like a fae mate?’

Her nose wrinkled up. ‘No.’

‘A husband?’

‘Definitely not.’

‘A fuck buddy?’

Nesta raised her brows. ‘I don’t know what that is nor do I wish to know.’

‘You’re a smart girl, I think you can figure out.’

Nesta ignored him in favour of the phone. If she had a fae male waiting for her then Hunt probably shouldn’t be so close to her on the bed. Those fae pricks could be territorial when it came to females.

‘Hunt, it says there are busty fauns in my area who want to meet me.’

‘Don’t click!’ Hunt plucked the cell from her hands. In some ways, Nesta was like a toddler – in others, she was like a two-thousand-year-old enigma, especially when it came to technology.

The rain grew heavier, lashing against the window as they both watched the film. He’d asked her earlier what she did for fun in the Night Court and he’d received a sniped answer that her sort of fun had been taken from her then she’d amended her answer to reading and training. She definitely seemed to enjoy this – and he’d teased her about making heart-eyes at the male lead.

‘Ruhn will keep an eye on you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘The fae prince.’

‘The prince of pricks?’

Hunt couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Don’t call him that or Micah will have my balls. I have to work but I can try and swing by at the end of my shift.’

‘I’ll have another list of questions for you to answer.’

‘I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,’ he replied. Hunt glanced at his phone. ‘Get ready for some real magic.’

Nesta’s lips parted, about to ask a question then the door knocked. He gave an encouraging nod to her to open it.

A male in a Food Drop uniform held out a bag of takeout for her. Hesitantly, Nesta took the bag then turned towards him.

‘What is it?’

‘Magic,’ he said, grinning. ‘Open it.’

Slowly, she moved towards the bed whilst plucking open the bag. ‘I don’t know what this is. We don’t have this in Velaris.’

‘Nesta Archeron, your life is about to change.’

They finished the film then found a re-run of Fangs and Bangs while Nesta lay on the bed practically moaning at the food. He’d gone simple but classic; hot cookie dough with vanilla ice cream. From the sheer delight on her face, Nesta had won the lottery.

‘You use that device and food appears?’

‘I order it,’ he clarified. ‘There are tons of places to choose from. You choose what you want, pay for it, and it arrives at your door.’

‘If I wanted cake, I could use that cell phone and a cake would come here?’

‘Modern technology.’

Nesta finished her cookie dough then Hunt gave her the rest of his.

‘Hunt Athalar, I am never going home.’  

[cryptid-called-ash]

Soul eater headcanons because it’s 1:30am and I have insomnia (mostly the trio)

Reapers have two names. The first is their title (ie lord death and death the kid). The second is their true/personal name, one only to be shared with family and the closest of friends. Kid’s name is Eros, lord death’s is Orcus. Only Liz, Patty, and eventually Blackstar know Kid’s true name.

Reapers have a unique language called Archayk, which sounds like an odd mix of Japanese, old Gaelic, and French.

Crona is Afab nonbinary and asexual. They bond with Kid over their mutual lack of understanding gender norms and sexuality.

Crona has an ouroboros mark in the centre of their back because Medusa branded them as a child. When the gang find out, they go out of their way to help them feel better about it. Patty tells Crona how cool it looks, Soul saying he wants a tattoo like that, Blackstar comparing the mark to his star, Maka telling them all the interesting lore about ouroboros she knows. In time, Crona comes to see the mark not as symbol of Medusa’s control, but as a loving connection to their friends.

Kid lived in the death room for the first 6 years of his life, practically glued to his father’s side and speaking exclusively Archayk. He moved into gallows manor when he turned 7 and would live there alone until he partners up with the Thompson sisters.

Liz can’t cook for shit and patty is banned from ever setting foot in the kitchen, so Kid does all the cooking at gallows manor. And he’s pretty good at it too. It’s one of the things he learned to keep himself occupied growing up. He would beg Spirit to bring new ingredients when he would make his weekly check-ins.

As he didn’t have any real contact with people outside of Spirit, Marie, and his father; Kid picked up a lot of skills to pass the time. On the tamer side were skills like learning to play the piano and the harp, calligraphy work, embroidery and needle work, drawing, and (as mentioned above) cooking. On the more eccentric side were skills such as dueling and fencing, learning dead languages, gymnastics, throwing knives, studying both current and historical politics, and apothecary’s remedies.

Speaking of Marie, she tutored Kid before he enrolled in the DWMA. she is one of the very few humans able to speak the reaper language and so was able to teach Kid before he learned how to speak human languages.

Maka’s mother has a twin sister who is a witch, though Maka and her mother are not. However she chose a path of kindness and actively try and spread good through the world, in hopes that one day other witches will do the same.

Maka moved in with Soul after her parents divorce. They had been partners for a year at that point and Soul wanted to help his meister any way he could. Maka cried when he suggested she move in with him, hugging him for the first time. That’s when Soul started falling for her.

After Kid becomes a full-fledged reaper, it takes nearly 2 months for him to adjust to the name change. He’d been death the kid for most of his life, so suddenly being called lord death was a big change. It takes Soul and Maka even longer to stop calling him Kid. Blackstar outright refuses to call him lord, so he gives him the nickname Prince. And though he’d never admit it out loud, Kid loves it. Liz and Patty also don’t call him lord death, instead simply electing the call him brother in public and Eros in private.

At first Liz and Patty slept in their own room when they came to live at gallows. but after a particularly hard mission, the trio all slept in Kid’s room. Not long after they all just silently agreed that they would continue to stay in the his room together.

Liz is two years older than Kid and Kid is two years older than Patty. Soul and Maka are the same age. Tsubaki is a year older than Blackstar.

Liz loves to dress her little siblings and taught them both how to properly apply makeup. She especially loves getting them all matching dresses or shirts and wearing them together.

Tsubaki’s favourite tea is lemon and hibiscus with a teaspoon of honey mixed in.

Though they can’t speak it, the sisters can understand Archayk well enough to know what Kid is saying when he speaks it.

Blackstar becomes Kid’s right hand man when he ascends his father’s title. Blackstar is known as ‘The Shadow of Death’.

Kid’s sanzu lines don’t all close at the same time, rather they close one by one over the span of 2 years. The process is referred to as a coronation. The first line closes the night Asura is woken by Medusa, when kid is 14; the second closes when he’s 15 and he rejects the power of madness promised by Eibon, choosing his friends and sisters over his own desire for perfection; the third closes after Lord Death fights Asura for the final time and chooses to pass his power and title onto his heir, leaving Kid the lord of death at just 16 years old.

Liz and Patty are called ‘Death’s Angels’ after becoming Kid’s death scythes.

Soul has a bad knee from a car accident when he was a child. It usually doesn’t hurt very much, but when it flares up he can hardly walk. He wears a knee brace all the time and uses a cane during flare ups. The cane is covered in stickers the gang put on it.

[donniewatts]

𝑫𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑰𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑺' 𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑶𝑶𝑺 & 𝑷𝑰𝑬𝑹𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺 , bramble's quick guide .

NECK, SHOULDERS AND BACK :

donnie has a big neck piece that depicts medusa. her expression is best described as one of serene rage. her eyes are totally white, which contrasts with the heavy black and grey detailing of the rest of the piece. the snakes of her hair fan out around his throat and along the underside of his jaw.

a wilted sunflower behind his right ear, usually hidden behind his hair. got it not long after leaving longing, new mexico. it is meant to celebrate james gallowes.

behind his left ear, you'll find a single crimson lipstick stain that's also usually hidden by his hair.

on the back of his neck, under all his hair, you'll find a biblically accurate angel design.

a laughing skull wearing a battered cowboy hat on the back of his right shoulder, done in black ink.

severed angel wings on both shoulder blades, done with pops of red ink and with several bloody feathers scattered around the area.

a rattlesnake that follows the curve of his spine.

an anatomical heart with a noose wrapped around it on the back of his left shoulder. it was also gotten in celebration of james gallowes.

on the right side of his lower back you'll find a silhouetted version of the two men shaking hands from pink floyd's 'wish you were here' album cover.

just above the pink floyd tat, you'll find a pinup style tattoo of a lady with dark curly hair, and a cowboy hat. she's covered in tattoos and is wearing what looks like an unbuttoned plaid shirt and cowboy boots. she's winking and throwing devil horns with her left hand.

next to the pinup tat, you'll find a skeletal cowboy wearing a battered poncho with a smoking pistol in its hand. it's also got a toothpick in its mouth if you look closely.

EARS :

his first piercing was an animal canine tooth on a chain hanging from his left ear lobe, though this piercing started as a simple silver hoop. he gets a second one in the same lobe, and often switches it up between a simple stud earring or a silver hoop.

he has helix piercings in both ears, and both resemble skeletal hands. he often switches it up between the skeletal hands, belt buckle cuffs or simple silver bands.

TORSO :

there are various lipstick stains ranging from deep purple to bright red on his hips and his abdomen.

a ram's skull with four horns, and a third eye on its forehead done in a detailed comic book style, with twisted branches crawling underneath the design in black ink. this tattoo is located on his pectorals and spreads out across the tops of his shoulders.

on the right side of his ribcage, you'll find a large piece that depicts a demonic creature with bat-like wings, carrying two deadly flails. flanking it on both sides are bats and ravens.

there's a stylised black ankh on his lower abdomen, with the loop going around his belly button, and the rest of it trailing down and stopping on his pelvis, just above his groin.

to the left of the ankh design you'll find the words 'no future' in gothic lettering on his lower abdomen.

a pentagram on his left hip, this was the first tattoo he ever got.

a guitar pick on his right collarbone that was gotten to celebrate his father. it's one of his more recent tattoos.

donnie has nipple piercings. they're simple silver bars that you can totally see whenever he's wearing a tight shirt or a white tank top.

RIGHT ARM :

he has a grim reaper in a cloud of skulls on his bicep. this is easily the most intricate of his tattoos.

a marlboro cigarette box with flowers sticking out, instead of marlboro, the box says 'cowboy killers.' you'll find this one just under the grim reaper design.

the second tattoo donnie ever got was a mountain lion crouching on his forearm, the design is a heavily stylised one, highlighted with pops of colour on the eyes.

there's a cartoon penguin wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses for emma on the inside of his forearm, above the mountain lion.

to the left of the mountain lion you'll find the torso of a knight with a sword, the knight has only a helmet, no face, and several arrows sticking out of his back.

the ac/dc lightning strike on the side of his wrist, just under the bone.

a horses skull on the other side of the same wrist, has an outline of the horse's head around it in dark black ink.

a stylised bat can be found on the back of his hand, this one has been heavily influenced by gothic art styles. there are various stick n'poke spiders and cobwebs accompanying this design, they almost act like a border to it.

on his knuckles and his fingers, there are outlines of the knuckle and finger bones done in crosshatched black ink.

LEFT ARM :

there's a barbed wire design around his upper forearm, above his bite scar, with some drops of blood coming from the barbs.

there's a yosemite sam above the barbed wire, firing off his pistols. this was got as a joke with his brother brody, who used to call him yosemite sam whenever he got angry as a child.

he has 'rancid creature' in gothic lettering on his shoulder, and it has been highlighted by a bright green drop shadow.

there's an outlaw riding a bucking horse and firing a pistol on his bicep.

next to the cowboy design is a demon bent over, farting. this was a design that izzy jones came up with as a joke, and donnie liked it so much that he got it.

to the right of the cowboy design, you'll find a couple of cherubs, similar to the ones found in medieval and renaissance paintings, with punk hairstyles and cigarettes in their mouths. both cherubs have guitars slung over their backs. this one he got for his other bandmates, sammy laurel and clara bell.

you'll find a skull with two monstrous hands with claws for nails holding it, so the jaws of the skull are wide open just below this tattoo.

a cowboy boot with a snake wrapped around it can be found next to the bite scar on his forearm.

along the other side of the bite scar, you'll find a simple outline sketch of a long wyvern-like dragon fighting a knight.

on his middle finger there's tolkien's original sketch of smaug from thror's map to the lonely mountain, it's been done in bold red ink, and was gotten as a tribute to his love of fantasy.

on his other fingers, you'll find small tarot-inspired cards, and small stick n'poke doodles, like smiley faces, stars, crosses, crescent moons, suns, and hearts.

on the back of his left hand you'll find a portrait of a woman wearing a wide-brimmed witches hat with a cobweb forming in the curve of it. she's smirking and has wiry, black hair that looks as though it's wet. her eyes are nothing more than white circles, as the top half of her face is cast in the shadow of the hat she's wearing. you can see the hint of her cleavage and nothing more.

LEFT LEG :

there's a longhorn skull on his thigh, done in a bold comic book style.

he has two horses on the outside of his thigh, both are up on their hind legs, locked mid-fight. this one has been done in heavy black ink.

he got an american football wearing sunglasses on the inside of his ankle for lee bennett after he died.

besides the football is a ballet dancer with mechanical legs and flame-red hair. she's mid-pirouette, with a wide smile on her face. this one is dedicated to stacy bennett, who was bound to a wheelchair after her interaction with the same creature that killed lee.

NOTES :

on both arms, you'll find various space-themed tattoos, such as planets, moons, shooting stars, star clusters, galaxies, and so on, in the small gaps between larger pieces.

you may also find some stick n'poke flowers, such as roses or sunflowers, done in these gaps as well. these will have been done by friends looking to practise their tattooing skills on him.

the number of tattoos donnie has before he gets clean is far less than the number he has after getting clean. tattoos are his addiction, and he'll look to get one for literally any reason. all the people who mean something to him, and who have meant something to him, will have a tattoo dedicated to them somewhere on his body. which means that if we've plotted a dynamic where donnie and your muse are close to donnie in any capacity, i'll likely plot with you that donnie will get a tattoo somewhere for them, and he will show off about it.

[ebongawk]

129 for the meme!

129. “I told you I’d come home to you.”

It was the longest they'd ever been apart.

In the past, any of Eddie's tours had been short stints. Corroded Coffin's label called it strategy, pushing them into short stints as an opening show for larger, more well-known bands in order to give them a dedicated following that screamed for more.

Eddie had complained endlessly about the exploitation of it all. I mean, Christ, Cunningham, they're basically just leading us into the gallows by a string!

And, for awhile, it did kinda seem like that. But, after a few tours like that, the band started selling merch.

Then selling more merch.

Then selling out of merch.

Then they had to stop doing meet-and-greets because they were being swarmed, and that was when the label finally gave them a permanent opening slot for the back half of the North American tour with Soundgarden.

Freaking Soundgarden!

(Whether or not Chrissy knew who Soundgarden was prior to this was secondary.)

They'd started on the west coast, which had been extraordinarily convenient, since Chrissy could make the shows near their Oceanside home. Strategically picking days where her classes weren't necessarily important.

Then, as they'd moved further away, Chrissy had been confined to their apartment. To her semester finals and the library and a boyfriend she only got to talk to maybe once a day.

It was such an amazing opportunity, and he and the band had worked so incredibly hard to get where they were. Chrissy was unimaginably proud of him, even as the distance cut into their relationship and the space in their shared bed felt bigger and bigger as the nights passed.

One night, Nancy had come down from Lenora Hills while visiting Jonathan and taken her for a girl's night out. Chrissy had stumbled home just when the phone rang, excitedly answering Eddie's call before almost immediately dissolving into tears.

"You're gonna find someone better," she'd sobbed. "Some–– Some hot rocker chick with piercings and tattoos and–– and a freaking mohawk or something!"

Eddie had laughed like it was the most absurd thing she could've said.

"How could I possibly want that when I have perfection waiting for me back at our place?" he'd replied easily. "I'm gonna come home to you, sweetness. Promise."

That had been a month ago. A full month after the start of the tour. Eddie had another month still left in the tour. And it was great, and he really seemed to love it, and Chrissy only had one more semester left of school and then she could join him on tour whenever she wanted because there was anthropological research to be done in every part of the world, and all she needed was a library and a typewriter.

She just. She really missed him.

They'd gotten off the phone a half hour ago. Eddie had sounded particularly breathless, and Chrissy knew without asking that he'd just finished up yet another incredible performance. One where girls were probably screaming and throwing their bras on stage because all of the Corroded Coffin boys were good-looking, but Eddie was so magnetic that he unintentionally stole the show.

He was on the east coast, three hours ahead of her, and she maybe would have felt bad about keeping him awake if she wasn't completely aware that Eddie was always awake until two in the morning.

Unless he was at home, anyway.

"I like going to bed with you," he'd admitted once with a smirk and a little shrug, "because that means I get to wake up with you and spend more hours of the day with you."

Her heart twinged in her chest, and Chrissy gave a heavy sigh as she checked to make sure the front door was locked before heading to bed.

Just as someone knocked on it.

Chrissy blinked, thinking for an insane second that she was hearing things. After a moment, another knock came, this one louder and slightly more insistent. Convinced someone had the wrong apartment, Chrissy crept toward the door, trying not to alert whoever was on the other side to her presence as she carefully avoided the creakiest parts of the hardwood hallway.

Peeking through the peephole stole her breath completely, and Chrissy nearly fainted.

She was seeing things. She had to be.

Still, her hands fumbled to unlock the deadbolt and the chain lock, cursing when she missed the catch initially, before finally wrenching the door open.

"Hey, sunshine," Eddie greeted easily. Like he hadn't just upended her entire life by showing up on their doorstep. "I would've just, y'know, come in, but I know you lock the chain when I'm not home."

"Eddie?" she asked, voice catching on the second syllable of his name, like he wasn't standing in front of her. Like her eyes weren't to be believed, and he was nothing more than a hopeful figment of her lonely imagination. "W-What are you...?"

Scratching the back of his neck and drawing attention to the backpack over his shoulder, Eddie just shrugged. "I, uh. I mean, we had a one day break between Pittsburgh and NYC. And I had to, like, bribe the label to get a replacement guitarist for tonight's show. I'm only home tonight and tomorrow," he admitted, regret obvious in his tone. "But I, uh. I needed to see you. I missed my girl."

He blurred before her, and Chrissy blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the sudden interruption of her vision.

Oh. Tears.

Scrubbing at her cheeks, Chrissy barely managed to say, "You came... just for me?" before a sob broke from her lungs.

All at once, she was wrapped up in that overwhelming familiarity. The scent of tobacco and leather and the undercurrent of his favorite cologne, couple with the strong, sure embrace of his arms that Chrissy couldn't help but melt into.

"Oh, baby," he breathed, holding her close right there in the doorway of their home. "I told you I'd come home to you."