#happy birthday grim my dear!!

[galamalion]

𐕣. 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

summary. time inevitably approaches all, but an otherworldly suitor has other plans for you.

⤷ contents. yandere!vampire!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships, blood // wc. 2.0k

⤷ notes. a very happy birthday to @ddarker-dreams! i wanted to write something cute and evil as a thanks for all the chrollo treats she's given out! hope you enjoy! <3

Dusk began to creep in across the horizon, dimly counting down the few hours before night would fall, allowing the silver moon to take its place among the stars. Golden rays began to dim, passing through the extravagant window in the room you’d been staying in, casting a faint glow across furniture and floor alike. 

Perhaps ‘staying’ wasn’t the correct word to use, though. It made you sound like a visitor, which you certainly were not. The metal lock on the door, the same shade as the setting sun, sealed you into a plush and comfortable tomb, only allowed to wander beneath illuminating moonlight. 

It was the only time he was allowed out too, after all.

You remembered the first time you met that man—Chrollo, as he called himself, though perhaps he had gone by a different name in years past. He called you glorious, a singular rose in a field of boring dandelions, waiting to be plucked and worshiped by a kindred soul. As the daughter of a farmer, his honeyed words made you feel warm inside. Night after night you would meet with him in the woods beside your village, listening to him speak about poetry, books, and the world outside your own quiet one. He made you feel alive—like setting a helpless dove free from a poorly made cage of twigs.

If only he told you the dove was just flying into a golden prison. Maybe you would have run then, told your mother and father about the wicked and beautiful stranger in the woods. But his stories and words wove you into a web too tight to escape, and too alluring to even want to.

You sighed, both out of boredom and out of anguish. Your sleeping habits had changed since you’d been brought to this ancient castle. Now you would wake up just before sunset, giving you time to prepare yourself for Chrollo’s bothersome speeches. Back when you were younger you would have found them poetic—dashing, even. But now, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone. Return you back to your family, your friends, and your village.

The first time you’d ever begged him for that he just smiled, wiping tears off your lashes and running his hand gently through your hair.

“They’re gone,” he had cooed, coaxing your back. “There is nothing for you to return to, my dear.”

His words only brought more tears, and broken sobs along with it. A cacophony of anguished screams and hopeless crying continued night after night, and Chrollo had left you alone for them. He returned on the third night, comforting you through your discordant howling and tears, not saying a single word. Only gently stroking your hair and humming a lullaby ever so softly, bringing your wailing to a whimper as you dozed off to sleep, tears still running down your face.

You should have hated him after those words, hated him until the sun and the moon and every last star in the sky burnt out. Until your bones turned to dust and that dust turned to nothing, as all good things should. But instead, you let him comfort you, as he had done before. You let him hold you and sing to you and your hatred dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Now, the only person you can hate is yourself.

The resounding chime of a bell echoed throughout the castle, finding its way under the door and into your ears, and one look outside confirmed what the bell had just screamed to you. The moon, illustrious and horrid—a grim reminder of your fate, stood proudly amongst its brothers and sisters in the inky sky.

Oh, how you preferred the sun.

A loud knock on the door—one you’d grown to expect—caused you to stretch out of bed and to the middle of the room, throwing the closet open.

Dresses in onyx and sangria were all you had, each only slightly different in design. Some had lace trims, intricately made and without flaws. Others had slits so high you were certain your mother would have chased you out of the village herself. All chosen by Chrollo, of course. You didn’t even know what sangria was before you’d met him, a drink too rich for you to ever experience on your own.

“I’m not decent,” you called out, scanning your limited options. A faint chuckle was barely discernible through the thick wooden door, a sign that Chrollo would wait, though not for long.

You shuffled out of the loose nightgown and tossed it into a basket. With Chrollo breathing down the door you had almost no time to carefully choose your dress of the day—not that it particularly mattered to you. But it was better than letting Chrollo have control over another aspect of your life.

A simple black gown, without lace or an indecent alteration, was your choice. The neckline was plunging—far more than anything you wore—but you had learned to push your own feelings down.

“Modesty only matters when around others,” Chrollo had told you. “But here, it is just you and I. There is nothing to fear, my treasure. I am no beast.”

The fangs that creeped out from his smile warned you otherwise.

With a resigned sigh, you walked over to the door, gently rapping your fist against the thick wood. The door slid open with a loud creak—just like every other antique in the ancient palace. Your gaoler smiled upon seeing you, taking the time to look at your body.

“You resemble an ancient tome of poetry, appreciated only by its author,” Chrollo said, stepping into the room.

“Are you calling me old?”

“I apologize if you took it that way,” he chuckled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I merely mean to say that you are a sumptuous artifact, deserving of being remembered by history for all time.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and ignoring the shiver that never failed to arise when Chrollo was with you.  “I prefer a simpler life, thank you.”

“I believe this one suits you far better. If you gave it a chance, I’m sure you’d come to realize the same.”

“I liked my old one.”

“Come now, my dear,” he sighed, moving a cold hand across your shoulder blades. “You always insist on speaking of the past. Why not look towards the future? It has so much to offer you.”

“Have you grown bored of comforting me?” you spat, pulling away from his touch. “Where are your soothing words, your golden gifts? Have you found a new game to play?”

Chrollo frowned, not bothering to reach for you again. Instead his arms rested at his sides, peacefully. Lifelessly.

“I have grown tired,” he emphasized, “of your refusal to move on. I have given you so much, only for it all to be rejected. I thought time would sway your choice, but it appears that I have failed to consider your…stubbornness.”

His expression had changed in the blink of an eye, now sporting his usual disconcerting smile.

“Walk with me,” he commanded, already stepping out of the room.

Your feet moved against your will, gliding across the floor and after Chrollo. It was something you hated, even more than his smug attitude and unneeded grandiose vocabulary. You could always reject him with your words, but in the end he had the power to cut your actions short. An obnoxious monster, as always.

“I have been thinking,” Chrollo began, trailing the dark halls, “about us. And my offer. I believe that I have been…entertaining your behaviors for too long. Time is a fickle thing for beings like you, and I fear you may not have much left.”

“I’m not dying,” you snorted. “Or are you just worried that I might start wrinkling early?”

Chrollo laughed at your words, “I am not afraid of fine wine, my dear. Just that your behavior will soon spiral out of control. If something were to happen, I would hate to have to chase you down. That is all.”

Your walk ended in the garden, bushes towers high above you and Chrollo. It was a place that, despite its beauty, you weren’t too fond of. It was a maze of Chrollo’s making—intentional, knowing him. If something were to enter through the garden, they would never make it to the castle before Chrollo got to them. And more importantly, you would never make it out.

A clearing stood before you, a wooden pavilion with a dozen chairs surrounding a table. Where fancy ladies would meet for fancy tea and gossip about the fancy going-ons in the palace. Like in storybooks you would read as a child.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Chrollo said, approaching the table. Upon it laid a goblet, and, despite the distance separating you, you could make out the sharp gleam of a knife.

“Choices must be made my dear, and I’m afraid that this is one I must make myself. I cannot bear the thought of being without you, and I seek to make our union permanent.”

Chrollo raised a hand in your direction, willing you to stand right before him.

“I could sink my teeth into your throat,” he chuckled. “We would become closer, that way. But you are wearing a 12th century royal Gorteauan gown, and I’d simply hate to ruin it.”

Your blood ran cold as he grabbed the knife, bringing it between you. It was almost as sharp as his fangs, but just as dangerous.

You knew what it was for, undoubtedly. Chrollo had talked about it plenty—about turning you into what he was. About stripping your mortality and bringing you a step closer to eternity. To paradise, to Eden, he claimed. You always pushed against his wishes, though. Insisting you had more life to live, that you were too scared, anything to halt the inevitable. But Chrollo was inevitable, and at the end of the day, his wishes all came true. Never yours.

The knife made purchase with the palm of Chrollo’s hand, causing droplets of crimson blood to spill out from the wound. He brought his hand up to your face, close enough for you to smell the iron from the cut.

“You only need to ingest a little bit. More than a lick, of course. But I’m quite potent,” he smirked.

If you weren’t so terrified, you maybe would have chuckled. Maybe you would have ran.

Chrollo’s smile slowly fell as you continued to do nothing, “Go on. I would hate to force you to do this as well.”

You took a shuddering breath and looked at the pool of blood, “Will…will it hurt?”

“Not a bit,” Chrollo assured you, his smile returning. “It will be painless. You’ll fall asleep afterwards, and your old life will feel like a dream. A rebirth, if you will.”

He continued, “Just think of what you will be now. No longer and Eve, now a Lilith. You will have power, permanence among the living, and me."

“...And it won’t hurt?”

“Not a bit,” he smiled.

You slowly lifted his hand, still freezing cold, closer to your mouth. You let the blood touch your quivering lips, staining them crimson. Perhaps you looked alluring, shaking like a deer with your reddened lips. Especially to a beast like Chrollo. A beast you would soon become. 

With one final anguished cry, you drank of his blood. It was as cold as his body, perhaps even colder. It did nothing to freeze your nerves, nor stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Those, too, began to feel colder and colder.

Chrollo held you close, running his free hand along your shoulder, whispering sweet comforts in your ear. Already the world seemed to be getting darker as each touch felt more dull.

“Now, now, my dearest angel. Imagine what new heights we can reach,” he chuckled, wiping stray blood from your face.

“We have all of eternity to see them. Together.”

[queenimmadolla]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat. 

  Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

  You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her. 

  And a large hole in their wallet.

  “It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

  “This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

  It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

  You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

  “You got a number we can reach you at?”

  You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along. 

  “Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

  God, I hope so.

  The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

  You’d learned. Eventually.

  Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your bag and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed. 

  Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

  Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

  It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

  A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

  The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

  You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

  With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

  ─

  Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

  His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door. 

  “Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

  Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

  Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

  “Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

  “A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ��em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

  “Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

  He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something. 

  “What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

  “Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again. He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group. 

  Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred—with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through. Henry had to go.

  Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

  “I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”  

  “Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more. 

  A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

  The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

  A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

  The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles. 

  Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling. 

  That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh. 

  It’s intimidating. 

  They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

  But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

  “Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

  “Yup.”

  “See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

  “Why not today?”

  “Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

  “I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

  Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

  You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them. 

  People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

  Someday, that would be you. 

  You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last. 

  Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

  The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

  “What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

  “Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

  “Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

  “Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

  As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

  The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

  Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

  Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

  You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

  He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

  He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

  The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

  Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

  But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

  Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

  When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

  Someone who looked like their art.

  You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

  You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

  Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

  “Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

  Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

  What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden? 

  He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. 

  Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

  Professionalism, he reminded himself.

  “Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

  “Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

  Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

  Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

  You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

  There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room. 

  On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

  “Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

  Sure you haven’t.

  “Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

  “You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

  He had no idea how right he was.

  “The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

  “And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

  First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

  “But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

  Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

  “You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

  “Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

  You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

  “Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack. 

  “Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

  “Did your tattoos hurt?”

  Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

  “A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

  “Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

  Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

  No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

  He was getting hard. 

  Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

  Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

  “Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

  You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

  The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

  “What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

  A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

  He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

  “That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

  You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

  Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

  “Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

  “Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

  “I’d be stupid not to.”

  You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

  “Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

  Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

  “Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

  “Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.” 

  “But I thought you said—” 

  “Me.”

  Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

  You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

  “So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face. 

  You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!” 

  He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

  “You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.” 

  Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

  “Wait—this is paid?”

  “Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

  Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

  Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

  The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you. 

  You’d have time to get there.

  “Hey, Deidre.”

  “Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

  He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

  “We’ll see you soon?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

  You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

  “Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile. 

  You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

  It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

  Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

  Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

  He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

  He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids. 

  Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

  “Need a hand?”

  Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

  Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

  “Are you offering yours?”

  She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

  “Mmm, not just my hand.”

  All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick. 

[le-monchou]

special stars for a special day || trey clover

a birthday was a big deal; the end of a year and the start of another one in your life; but somehow, you'd always disliked the excessive fanfare and pompadour that accompanied it. you appreciated the few texts and calls, and sometims the occasional surprise birthday cake, but any expectations of that had long since tapered off. that was, until trey clover entered the picture.

you sat outside in the mazelike garden of heartslabyul, scrolling away on the third-rate phone you'd received from crowley on the special occasion that is today, my dear prefect! and you'd hoped that no one would come up with some awkward and elaborate party for you. well, you were alone, until you heard the crunching of grass under shoes and a familiar mop of green hair makes itself known.

"there you are." if you didn't know better, you'd think relief was mixed into his soft tone. "i've been looking for you." you raise an eyebrow as he smiles, but that smile doesn't make you feel any better, considering the date. "walk with me for a bit, will you?"

"'kay." you murmured as you stood up and slipped the phone into your pocket, following trey through the maze towards a secluded area filled with cosmos flowers of all colours, and the little knowledge of flowers burst out. "cosmos flowers for an october birthday." trey nods as he extends a gloved hand towards you, and you take it as he guides you up a very easy hill (did he just want to hold hands? you think to yourself).

at the very top of the hill, hidden between the flowers, was a soft blanket with all your favourite foods and pastries laid out like a mini buffet, arranged to perfection. "do you like it?" trey whispers, though there was no one to overhear the two of you. "i figured a quieter birthday would work for you, considering the noise you deal with everyday. of course, there's nothing against the party they might be planning, but hey."

"they're planning a birthday party?" you blink as trey blinks back before flushing a glorious red. "wow, trey, can't believe you spoilt that for them." you chuckle at his continued mortification before resting a hand on his shoulder to snap him out of it. "it's fine, i can pretend i love it. i mean, i do, depending on who arranged it. spill the beans, will you?" you add as you pick a sandwich to munch on as you wait. trey sighs, before launching into a detailed explanation about the entire affair.

"so, grim and jack asked leona to fund the entire thing, and he is, albeit begrudingly, and now, he's also being used as free labour as epel grills meat as payment." you snort at that as you pick at another sandwich. "he's also picked 13 fights with malleus over decorations, and his expertise is quote-unquote, a child's birthday, and malleus has zero experience with birthday parties beyond his own, so he should again, quote-unquote, fuck off."

"it's the stupidest thing i've ever seen." you sigh as you pick one of the smaller pastries next. "what's this?" trey leans over to inspect the pastry and you try to hide the light shudder that goes down your spine as you hear his voice and feel his breath near your ear. "it's a choclate pastry with cosmos flowers as decorations. i thought it would be appropriate, given its your birthday." you nod seriously as you pick a flower of your favourite colour and smile. "say ahh, trey."

you smile as he bites the flower and roll your eyes at him when, just to be spiteful or something extra, he licks the rest of the cream off of your fingers. "happy birthday, my dearest."

happ day of birth @fungifanart have your second husband || word count: 646 words

[ornii]

My Bitter Better Half, Part 12

Wednesday sits in the center of her room, reciting a dark chant as she holds the necklace mother gave her. Her dark whispers echo faintly in the air as a dark sense of dread fills the air.

"In case you're wondering, I don't hold séances very often. I can barely tolerate the living. Why would I want to commune with the dead? But my mother told me Goody is the only one that can train me to control my psychic ability. The sooner I master that, the sooner I crack this case." Wednesday opens her eyes as the door behind her opens suddenly, as if her sick prayers have been answered, but unfortunately it was not. It was Her brother (Y/n).

“I didn't mean to interrupt your... what are you doing exactly.”

"I was reaching into the black maw of death to contact our relative." Wednesday explained, and (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.

"Without me?" He replied.

"I don’t need to consult you about everything.” Wednesday stood up.

“I had naturally assumed if you were going to contact the dead, an occult specialist would be your first contact. Goody?” He asked, reading the name on the Ouiji Board.

"She was one of the original outcasts. Been attempting to summon her, but she seems to be ignoring my entreaties."

"Can’t blame her, i wouldn’t want you bothering my enteral rest.” (Y/n) shrugged, before Wednesday could chastise her brother, a slip of paper comes from under the door, they turned to face the door and (Y/n) approached it.

"..Maybe Goody answered you after all." Her brother picks up the paper, reading it cutout magazine letters "If you want answers, come to Crackstone crypt at Midnight."

"I doubt she communicates in magazine cutouts." Wednesday said, “Perhaps someone in the schools finally grown a spine. Let’s see.” (Y/n) handed his sister the paper and walked out the room.

Night had crept on Nevermore and the twins are exploring the graveyard, heading to Crackstone crypt. “Wednesday… there’s something I have to speak with you about..” he started, and Wednesday kept walking.

“At this time? With whatever Crackstone has in store on the horizon?” She obviously seemed upset, “It’s not about that.. it’s about Enid.” He abruptly admits. Wednesday halted in her footsteps and turned around, “I could care less about your abhorrent romantic feelings.”

“That’s not the point.” He retorts, “Then what is your point?” She said.

“My point is that, whatever evil we’re going to come across in the future… keep her out of this, she’s…”

“A fool.” Wednesday was blunt.

“Innocent.” His reply was sharp. “Promise me, promise me you won’t drag her into whatever we’re doing.” (Y/n) was serious, for all his sarcasm and humor, he meant every word. The two stare at each other, and Wednesday reluctantly agrees. “Fine.”

They approach the massive stone door, Wednesday inhaled, the stench of death lingered in her lungs.

"Smells like our childhood. Come on." Wednesday entered the crypt first, (Y/n) following behind closely as sounds of animals and the window shoo them into the crypt, inside the old building, a single tomb laid in the center and markings etched along the walls. (Y/n) scanned along the walls. “Hmm..” (Y/n) mumbled.

“What?” Wednesday asked, “The Etching… I can roughly make some out, speaking of a.. revival.” He turned back to his sister, but a whisper caught his ear, he and Wednesday lock eyes and nod. They both turned in direction of where they heard it.

"Whoever you are, show yourself. Try anything and you'll lose limbs." She said, expecting a monster from the depths of Hell, she saw something even worse.. a Birthday cake. Enid, Ajax and others surround the two.

"Surprise! Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you / Happy birthday, dear Twins / Happy birthday to you!" They sing, which makes the twins frown.

"I should have known you two were behind this. What part of "no party under the penalty of death" do you not understand?" Wednesday notices Thing on Enid’s shoulder, she presents the cake, which was a grim reaper, with a pink balloon, black chocolate.

"I thought my cake design was pretty inspired." Xavier says.

"The pink balloon was my little touch. Why don't you both make a wish?" Enid says, (Y/n) smiled, “Thats.. very sweet of you Enid .. Wednesday do you want to—“ (y/n) stopped talking as he looked to his side to his missing sister. Wednesday was reading Latin that was etched into the side of the wall.

"Wait, it's Latin. Fire will rain... when I rise."

"That's not really a wish..." Enid frowned.

"The first part of that was burned onto Nevermore's lawn. It can't be a coincidence." (Y/n) walked up next to her, looking at the etching. “Whoever burned the message was here, knew about crackstone..” (Y/n) touched the etching with his sister, and two very odd things began to happen, Wednesday’s body froze as she had a vision, and (Y/n) felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned around to a ghostly version of his sister, who seems to be the goody she was trying to reach.

“Are you prepared to die for the truth?” Her question made his ears ring, a pounding headache echoed and, a dizzy spell hits (Y/n) and he collapsed.

(Y/n) awoke the next morning, in his bed, exhausted. Brushing the covers from his chest (Y/n) sits up, thing was waiting by his beside table. “That was.. odd.” He shook the cobwebs out of his mind and thing makes a few gestures. “That’s what happened.. interesting. I had my own vision of Goody, or.. it was her spirit making contact with me.. meaning Wednesday wasn’t losing her mind… I need to speak to my sister.”

Thing makes more signs, informing him of Wednesday being at the cafe. With Tyler.”

“I see…” gets out of bed and quickly gets dressed, “I won’t let that creep anywhere near my sister.. anyway, where did you say they were heading? Gates manor?” (Y/n) knew the location and made an uncomfortable trip there, reaching the manor in the dark he noticed a red car awaiting in the driveway. That was a red flag, (Y/n) took the steps and opened the door, like a ghost entering the void he felt, at ease.. but Enid’s scream of terror cut him off. He turned and faced her, surprised.

“What are you doing here?” They said to one another, he turned back to the front to Wednesday and Tyler, and (Y/n) scowled like an owl. “So… you disobey the one thing I ask you..” he said, and stared daggers at Tyler. “And brought… him.”

“It was my birthday.” Wednesday said.

“Our.. Birthday.” (Y/n) corrects her, “It’s always about you.. what could you possibly want in here?” He asked, Wednesday walked to the garage, (Y/n) followed annoyed, but his face turned to shock as he saw blood red lights fill the room, a blue Cadillac was inside.

"This hit the mayor." Wednesday said to her brother, as this mystery became much more dark, it isn’t just some entity.. it’s a sentient being, a person.. a killer.”

“This is—“ (Y/n) fumbled his words, and Enid frankly spoke for herself.

"Okay. This just took a dark turn. We need to call Tyler's dad right freaking now." Enid says, worries of what’s to come

"Why? So he can take me back to Nevermore and get me expelled? It's not gonna happen." Wednesday explores more of the house, (Y/n) clenched his fist.

"This is the night I'm gonna die." Tyler says sadly, “That would be a plus for me.” (Y/n) walks past him.

Enid was whimpering, gripping (Y/n)’s arm for dear life. They entered the living room and to a large family portrait of the Gates.

"Here they are. The Gates family. They scrub up well for psychopaths. There's Garrett, his outcast-hating father, Ansel, and you must be Laurel. They're all long gone. So the question is, why did Goody lead me here?" Wednesday said, (Y/n) looked at the photo. “He tapped his finger against it. “The back end is.. hollow. Gimmie a moment.” He leaned his head to the wall, his ear laying on the wood as he knocks on different parts of the mural. A shift in a pillar caught his ear and he pressed up against it.

The sound of interlocking mechanisms and shift the panel suddenly drops down. revealing a mural to Crackstone. (Y/n) stepped back to revel in the disgust.

"Who doesn't have a spooky built-in altar in their family library?" Tyler said looking at it with the flashlight.

"Ours is in the living room. More seating for year-long Dia de los Muertos." (Y/n) Said, “It’s impressive, Gaudy though.” He said, Wednesday peers at the candles on the mural, and touches them.

"They're still warm. (Y/n), Tyler, you two check the rest of the ground floor. Enid and I will search upstairs."

"We will?" Enid says looking at Wednesday, then she desperately looks at (Y/n) to save her, he reluctantly pats her head.

"It'll be fine, if you get scared I'll be Downstairs. Okay?” He smiled. Reassured, Enid reluctantly heads upstairs with his sister.

"All right, you go left, I go right." Wednesday said and stepped off

"You seriously want to split up? In here? That is literally how every best friend dies in a horror movie."

"The faster we search, the sooner you can leave with my brother.” Wednesday said, before Enid walked off by herself in a panic

"Why am I even here? I know what my mom would say. "Enid, you're a doormat." "You're too needy." "Show some teeth. Nobody likes a desperate little furball." Shut up, Mom. Get out of my head!" Enid yells.

Downstairs (Y/n) peered into a laundry room, old and decrepit, he sniffed the air, smelling a faint smell of perfume, someone was here. A woman, he knelt down and felt the ground, using what occult magic he knew he grabbed a vial of water and put it on the ground, casting a spell the water slowly morphs and forms shoeprints. “Women’s… well.. that’s—“ a footstep echoes, (Y/n) turned around and felt.. unease. He walked to the living room, closing the door behind him. “Tyler?” He asked, and saw.. nothing, the shadow growing upon a dropped bloody flashlight.

The red background, (Y/n) took a step closer and couldn’t see the evil hiding in the shadow, as if a bell went off he put his arms up to block a punch. His body flew back though the door and his body slammed against the old wall, hard. He shook his head and stood up, stumbling out, he saw the beast heading to the garage and booked it upstairs to Wednesday.

He rushed into the room Enid and Wednesday were checking and yelled. “Enid! Wednesday! We have to go! Now!” He said, but they weren’t paying attention, moreso moving around looking. “Hello?! Are you listening to me!?” He stormed over to Wednesday to grab her, but his hand conveniently phases through her body. Wednesday felt a chill and turned around, looking through him. He looked at his hand to notice its ethereal, his body is most likely back downstairs, he turned to Enid.

“Enid.. please forgive me.” With one leap he does the unthinkable, Wednesday watches Enid’s body convulse and halt, “Enid” turns to Wednesday.

“Wednesday… You need to Run, now!" She spoke, which confused Wednesday. “What is wrong with you?”

“Are you seriously being this damn stubborn?” She replies, and Enid rolls her eyes. “It’s your brother, it’s downstairs!” They hear a boom from the lower floor. Enid turns to her again. “See! Take Enid and leave, now!” (Y/n) pulls himself from Enid, who looks oddly confused about what just happened.

"The dumbwaiter. Go!" Wednesday and Enid hide inside and shut it tight. (Y/n) races back down the stairs and quickly back to the laundry room, he spotted his “dead” body and leaped at it, back inside he sits up and sprints back, he spots it rushing up the stairs and throws a pillow at it. It bonks the monster on the back of the head. The beast slowly turned back to (Y/n) it charges at him and he leaps out the way, the monster barrels into part of the wall and he sprints up the flight of stairs. He gets to a room and realizes the only exit is the window as expected, rusted shut. he sighs and takes a running stance and rushes, with one hard slam he bursts though the glass and rolls, falling a full story and hitting the ground hard, he felt the warmth on his back, glass probably. He lies on the ground, he sighed, honestly expecting the monster to follow out and kill him, he saw flashes of pink in the corner of his eye and he saw Enid and Wednesday approach quickly, he felt ringing in his ear and a lot of yelling, Tyler crept up out of the house bleeding but safe.

Inside the Dorm, (Y/n) was sitting in a stool, his back to Enid as took her beauty tweezers to get shards of glass out of his back. A large and final shard was pulled from his back, nearing his spine. Enid saw him clench and grip his pants

"Sorry! Sorry!" She apologizes, (Y/n) turned and smiled. “It’s fine, long as you’re okay..” the two smile, until Wednesday enters the room. And the tension was back up, she saw her brother putting his shirt back on

"Are you alight?" Wednesday asked

"Oh, now you care." He responds.

“It’s going to be fine—“ she started but he cut her off.

“No, it’s not going to be fine.. i made you promise to not drag her into this and you did. The one thing I ask you, you can’t do?!” He yelled.

"(Y/n)—" Wednesday began but he cuts her off again.

"You’re selfish, you’ve always been selfish! You’re going to get someone you care about killed one day because you can’t think about anyone but yourself. I hoped going to the school and meeting people like you and me would make you change, make you realize that people are just tools for you to use, you’re my family but it’s obvious you don’t see me the same..” (Y/n) left, storming off, Enid had tears in her eyes, watching him leave. She began to pack a bag as well.

“Where are you—“ Wednesday started but enid didn’t let her finish.

"Yoko's room. Thornhill said I could crash there for a few nights." She kept packing, angrily.

"There's no need. I spoke with Weems. You and (Y/n) won't be punished."

"Am I supposed to thank you?"

"I already apologized. It's over."

"Over? Tonight was the icing on the birthday cake you couldn't even be bothered to cut. You'll use anyone to get what you want, even if it means putting them in danger. We could have died tonight because of your stupid obsession!"

"But we didn't. And now I'm one step closer to solving this case. That is what is important." Wednesday still didn’t understand her predicament.

"I've tried really, really, really hard to be your friend. Always put myself out there. Thought of your feelings. Told people, "I know she gives off serial killer vibes, but she's just shy." Enid explained

"I never asked you to do that—"

"You didn't have to because that's what friends do! They don't have to be asked. The fact that you don't know that says everything. You want to be alone, Wednesday? Be alone!" Enid, leaves with a bag. Wednesday is alone, Goody predicted what happened. Wednesday sits against the window, pushing her friend and family away..

"Goody warned I was destined to be push everyone away, to be alone. Maybe it's inevitable. But for the first time in my life, it doesn't feel good. There's also something else. A gnawing feeling. That death is close at hand. Watching me. But I won't be intimidated. And I will never give up. That house. That family. Crackstone. The monster. Somehow me. We all seem to be connected like a spider's web. And when Mayor Walker got too close to the truth, he was silenced. But I won't be. So whoever's watching me, know this. I will find you.

[margareth-lv]

Mi piacciono molto i tuoi post così ironici, intelligenti ed esplicativi. Non stancarti. Anche da me , che ti conosco solo qui, in questo angolo meraviglioso del fandom, tantissimi auguri di un sereno e gioioso Compleanno.

Cara mia, non avrei mai pensato che i miei post fossero ironici 😉! Grazie per le tante belle parole che hai scritto. E grazie mille di cuore per gli auguri!

Ora, se vuoi scusarmi, continuerò in Inglese. Quello che funziona meglio per me in italiano è ordinare l'Aperol Spritz.

*** *** *** And now for the translation:

@findanserwers : I really enjoy your posts, so ironic, intelligent and explanatory. Don't tire yourself out. Also from me, who only know you here, in this wonderful corner of fandom, many happy and joyful birthday wishes.

@me : My dear, I never thought my posts were ironic. Thank you for the many kind words you have written. And thank you for the birthday wishes!

Now, if you don't mind, I'll continue in English. What works best for me in Italian is ordering the Aperol Spritz. *** *** *** ... and let me go on. In the unfunny circus show our two lovebirds are putting on for us once again, only deeper reflection can save us from the madness. The community we are creating here is of real value. Love, the deep feeling between two people, is the foundation of this community. And we know this feeling is real! The feelings that unite us are also real, even though we are separated by space, languages, habits and mentalities. Sisters, let's keep our faith in the sincerity and purity of what we've seen for so many years! Even if we're shown once again a succession of muscular blondes and still the same Ghost Rider from Transylvania with a grim face, we must believe in the goodness of love!

I propose a toast to all of us: Freedom and whisky, could be Sassenach.

Dear Shippers, slàinte mhath to us all!

Have a great weekend!

[10 May, 2024]

[mostlyblues]

In honour of his birthday, I'm going to rant about some of my favourite roles of the global treasure (yes, I'm promoting him from the ‘national’ status), David Tennant. Feel free to add your own.💙

Fourteen Doctor: This might seem like an odd choice to start with when there are popular choices like the Tenth Doctor and Crowley, but this character holds a very special place in my heart. I've been a fan of DT for about 6 years now and it started with Doctor Who. I love Ten but Fourteen is just more dear to me. Mostly because he made me excited again for one of my favourite TV shows. As a character, he has all the trademark qualities of the Doctor - the genius level intellect, endless compassion, and love for new adventures. But he is somehow more mature and softer, and I loved this development. Also, that blue coat and that (1) button - you know what I'm talking about.

Phileas Fogg: Such an underrated TV show. The chemistry of the trio, the adventures, the title sequence music - there's so much to love about this. And Fogg is such a real character. So far from perfect, this man will often appear as aloof, vain, self-absorbed and even a coward. But I think Phileas is one of the best roles ever played by Tennant. Yes, he's flawed but he's also intelligent, so incredibly kind, and yes, even brave. If you haven't watched this show, I highly recommend it.

Alec Hardy: So different from most other charming roles of DT, Hardy is a sad wet cat. He's grumpy, not nice, and just really tired of the world (who can't relate though?). His reluctant friendship with Ellie is one of the best parts of the grim show. And the fanfic lover in me can't stop screaming about how whumpable he is.

Crowley: I was going for the top three kind of ranking but the thin dark duke slithered his way over. And how can you not love Anthony J. Crowley? From this pure delightful joy while creating stars and nebulae (I can't get over David's face and the happy noises he makes in this scene) to his reluctant and vast love for his Angel and the earth, Crowley is very easy to fall in love with (take notes, Aziraphale. I know you love him but please use your words. Crowley, at least, tried). 

I wanted to add more characters, especially the Shakespearean ones (I love Hamlet, but Benedick has my heart), but the list won't simply ever end then. So, I'm just going to say name all the ones I love and end it here - Simon Yates (There She Goes), Dave Tyler (Single Father), Campbell Bain (Takin' over the Asylum), Harry Watling aka The Sexy Vicar (Inside Man, this show was so freaking stressful but I loved David's character), every single Shakespearean character he ever played (even the ones I haven't or probably won't ever get the chance to see - cries in Macbeth), and, of course, Scrooge McDuck (DuckTales).

So, thank you DT for gifting the world with some of the best, most adorable, wholesome, gender-enviable characters to ever exist. (Except for the creeps, freaks, and ruthless murderers, which we kind of love as well). Happy Birthday! 💙

[snoringkitty1]

╭──────────.★..─╮ 𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝐵𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎~ ╰─..★.──────────╯ Contains: Wholesome fluff :> Its maleficent boy's birthday, this is juust for him. <3.

・┆✦𓆩♡𓆪✦ ┆・

Malleus walked casually through the halls of the campus, a blank expression on his face as though he didn't have a thing on his mind. When in fact it was quite the opposite.

He was thinking about you, what you were doing at this time, what you'd like to do with him today. A picnic like last week? Or a simple date, quality time snuggling at Ramshackle..despite all of Grims griping about it.

Though it was a little late in the afternoon..he figured since it was his birthday, perhaps that was ample excuse to come see you at such a time. And so, he disappeared into thin air, and the next thing you knew, he was standing in the living room looking around like a lost puppy dog.

You were busy in the kitchen getting food for Grim, considering the lazy bastard didn't want to get up out of bed. When you stepped out and paused for a moment upon seeing him.

"Uh- when did you get here?" you asked and set the tuna down and quickly tried to appear presentable. "N-not even a warning text? I look terrible...-" you complained and quickly tried to rush past him to get to your room.

He looked down at you, and in that moment, you knew there was no chance of escape. He gently snagged your waist and smiled down at you.

"Hold on, dear..." He held your face, seemingly admiring your features for a moment before tilting his head. "Do you happen to know what day it is?" He hummed, his voice smooth and soft.

"uh- uh.." You looked away to think, since looking at him was just making it harder to gather your thoughts. He gave you plenty of time until finally you gasp and grabbed his hand.

"It's your birthday! oh dear, I nearly forgot. But I do have a present for you." You smiled and pulled away from him and pointed to the stairs. "It's in my room, you can tag along but, I think Grim is sick..so."

He narrowed his eyes curiously and nodded, "I'll be as quiet as possible." he stated and pat your head. "Alright, thank you." You stood on your toes for a moment to kiss his cheek before you headed for the stairs, pulling him along by his hand.

He kept up with you easily, the two of you traveling quietly to your room. Upon opening the door, you poked your head in and saw Grim peacefully sleeping balled up on your bed.

You let go of Malleus' hand and quietly walked over, beside Grim was a little stuffed animal..a stuffed gargoyle. You picked that up then grabbed a little keychain, also gargoyle themed. Then you headed for the door, Malleus waiting patiently with a curious look.

You closed the door and chuckled, "He's a surprisingly heavy sleeper, but anyway." you pulled him away from the door so Grim wouldn't be woken up. Then you held up the stuffy and keychain.

"I..i know its not much, and you're a prince and deserve something more extravagant than a stuffed animal and a little dinky keychain. But i know you like Gargoyles, and i also wanted to use this to tell you that i want you to show me some of the gargoyle's around the school!"

You took a breath and smiled a bit nervously, after all, even if he is your boyfriend..he is still a little scary and imposing.

His expression, however, was that of surprise..and joy, then that expression softened and he pulled you close. The stuffy was squished between you two, but he didn't care.

"Thank you, so much..they're fantastic gifts." He smiled and held your face with a soft look in his eyes. If you hadn't seen if for yourself you would bet the powerful fae prince didn't have such a gracious and soft side to him.

Seeing his reaction you couldn't help but giggle a bit, putting your hand over his and shrugging. "I didn't think you'd like them that much..but i'm really happy you do!" you cheered and kissed his palm.

Such a simple act made him melt, his face just slightly pink to show for it. He leaned close in preparation for a kiss..however..

The door opened and Grim flopped onto the ground and yelped, "Y/n! My-!" he paused mid sentence when he saw Malleus, then he grumbled. "Fine! i guess i'll just go get my tuna myself!" He huffed and stormed off.

You and Malleus watched him go before looking at eachother and laughing, "I suppose this leave the bed open and waiting for use?" He chuckled and picked you up.

"ah! uh- i guess?" you smiled, "Grim might come back and throw a fit though." You warned as he gently kicked the door to open it wider and closed it magically.

"It is the perfect opportunity to use that stuffed animal, no? Well, i think you'll be better to snuggle with." He shrugged and carefully set you down and took the stuffy and keychain from your arms and set them aside for now.

You watched him do so, laying back and relaxing with a pleased smile. "I wasn't even that tired before, this is all your fault." you joked as he unbuttoned his blazer and took it off, neatly folding it and setting it aside.

"Really? My most sincere apologies, Dear." He looked back, smiling smugly before he walked over and sat down on the other side of the bed next to you. "You were in your pajamas though when i arrived." he stated and laid down, pulling you close and tilting his head.

"Well-! You appeared out of nowhere! And i was getting ready to do some studying in bed!" You retorted and pouted with his smile only became more smug.

"I jest, i jest.." He smiled and kissed your forehead, "It does not matter now, let's simply enjoy the time we have here." he hummed and set his chin on top of your head.

"Well, i won't argue with that.." You muttered, reaching up to gently rub his horns, and you did just that right up until the moment he had fallen asleep..

You looked up at him and smiled to yourself, "Happy Birthday~ sweet dreams, sweet prince.." You muttered, playing with his hair until you too, fell into peaceful slumber.

.

..

...

Grim struggled a bit to open the door, but once he did, he noticed the two of you sound asleep in his bed..well, it was your shared bed, but cats will be cats.

He got up onto the bed and was about to wake you up..but then remembered the last time he did that and how Malleus always gave him the scariest smile whenever he saw him..such a smile that made his fur stand on end.

So, with better judgement this time, he just laid down beside you and pouted right up until he had fallen asleep.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

Thanks for reading.

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 43: Familie

https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

The boat ride home feels like I’m being punished. The further away I sail from England the deeper my heartache grows. When I arrive back in the crowded Brooklyn streets all I can think about is waiting for news about the Shelbys' death sentences. 

“Verena!” Oma gushes and wraps me into a warm hug. “Dear kleinkind, you are home! We- Verena? Why the sad face?”

I offer a small smile and set my trunk down. “Homesickness, oma. And… I’m really going to miss my job.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She hugs me closer. “I’m so sorry. If it's any comfort, we are all glad to have you back. Your vader's been too stubborn to fix that step, and look where it landed him!”

“Verena!” Moeder’s voice shouts from the bedroom. “Run and fetch your vader some morphine!”

“Elowyn, the poor girl just got back!” Oma tries to calm her down.

“She can unpack later. Dochter! Now!”

I steal a quick moment to cry into a pillow before answering. “Yes, moeder.”

So good to be back.

The doctor said vader’s injury will take nearly a year to heal. One whole year. It only takes a month for paranoia to sink in. Every day I wait for Thomas to call. Either with good news of triumph or tragic news of death. It’s not until I’m stuck doing a mountain of laundry when Conor’s wife Delilah calls me over to the phone.

“The name is Shelby. Isn’t that your boss?”

“Yes!” I gasp and wretch the phone from her. “Did they make it in time?”

On the other end Thomas keeps his voice calm. “Just made it. They’re all safe.”

I close my eyes and give a silent prayer of thanks. Dear Christ, they are alive! “They’re going to be angry.”

“I know.” He pauses. “It’s good to hear from you, Verena. I got your letter last week. Please send my best wishes to your father.”

My mouth starts to hurt from how much smiling he’s causing. “I will."

"When will you come back?” He masks his voice to make it unclear if he misses me too.

“I should be back by next December. I’ve been given permission to return to Birmingham once vader’s recovered.” I change to a tone of dry humor. “Thank you, by the way, for sending that persuasive letter.”

“What can I say? It’s not been the same since you left. Charlie keeps asking where you are.”

“Yes, well, when moeder read the letter she was very concerned about why someone like me was being requested by a gang leader.”

I had to swear on my life that there’s nothing scandalous afoot. 

Thomas ignores my implications. “How’s Ada?” 

“According to her calls, our arranged meeting in Boston is still planned. Next Monday we’re meeting with Mr. Anderson.”

“Excellent. Let me know when you’re on your way back.” He waits for a moment, deciding his next words. “It’s- I- Goodbye, Verena.”

I take a deep breath. Typical. “Goodbye, Thomas.”

As I promised, I keep to my word and meet with Ada the following week. She, like Thomas, is surprised with how busy the city is. When I spot her at the Boston docks’ main office Ada greets me with a big hug.

“So good to see you! Did you get the present Tommy sent you?”

“Yes!” 

The silver pendant hangs as a hopeful reminder under my shirt. No cursed jewel. A simple silver pendant with a Celtic cross at the center. Two days after my birthday I received a parcel from Thomas, along with a small note. 

Verena-

You refuse to wear anything of your paygrade so I am gifting you something tied to your devoted faith and heritage. Happy birthday, Verena. Please come back soon.

-Thomas

 I know those words must have been very precisely selected. Whether he does love me or not, the gift always brings joy to my heart.

“And Tommy told you the good news?” Ada asks.

“Yes! They were pardoned!” My smile fades. “Have they yelled at him yet?”

Ada’s face grows grim as well. “Not a word. It’s like no one wants to acknowledge Tommy anymore. Except Michael, that is. He jumped right back in. Finn tries to help when he can. Everyone else walked away.”

I take her hand and give it a squeeze. “Let’s start things off right. Today can bring good fortune to the company, which means good fortune for us.”

We ascend the stairs into the office and find an older man with jet-black hair waiting behind the front desk.

“Hello, Mr. Anderson,” I greet. “I believe you know Christiaan Steenstra?”

He looks me over. “Steenstra, yes. He married that Irish lass from the mob.”

“He is my father. I am his daughter Verena Nora Steenstra.” I gesture to my partner. “May I introduce Ada Shelby. We are here on business for Shelby Company Limited. Thomas Shelby wrote ahead to tell you we were coming.”

The name sparks his memory. “Yes. His instructions were very specific. I have only one question : why do I do business with you? Why doesn’t Shelby come see me himself?”

Ada and I exchange looks. I speak before she can argue with him. “He is a busy man. Saying that, he is a man who is not afraid to let women represent the company. Are we in agreement or would you like some persuasion from the White Hand?”

The name lingers in the air and the blood drains Anderson’s face. “No.”

I smile prosperously. “Then we are decided. Ada, the papers please.”

Once again I owe my leverage to Uncle Colon.

One final week. One week until Christmas, one week until I will be back in Birmingham! Ada’s waiting with the cab outside while I finish packing the last of my clothes. Just then, all five brothers barrel into my bedroom. 

“You’re really doing this, sis?” Eoin asks for the fifth time.

“You’re an American. Not a Brit,” Abel points out.

I clasp the trunk shut. “Must this always end in an argument against the British?”

Liam slaps the side of his head as if I just asked if the sky is blue. “Yes! We beat their tea-drinking asses. Why should you care about some gangster and his shipping company?”

“Need I remind you, Liam, that America’s melting pot is all about international cooperation?”

“America is the best,” Nicolaas mutters.

I face the gang of boys with my hands on my hips. It’s just like lecturing the Shelbys. “Our family comes from other places, too. If Ireland were under attack would you let it burn?”

All five brothers sheepishly look down and shake their heads. “No.”

“Neither would I. That’s why I’m helping.”

“That and you’re sweet on Mr. Shelby,” Liam chuckles under his breath.

I point a warning finger at him. “Shut it. I do not fancy him.”

“Ha!” Conor laughs at my unusual wording. “Verena’s picked up a bit-a-the-’ol English tongue!”

Nicolaas keeps a more mature expression. “Does Uncle Colon know?”

No. I still hesitate to inform my family of exactly who I’m working for. All they know is that I act as a foreign representative for a British trading company. It’s not a lie. If moeder caught on to how dangerous my work can get she would keep me stranded in Brooklyn forever. I can’t tell Uncle Colon how deeply I'm involved with the Peaky Blinders.

“I haven’t told him yet.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know. The White Hand has spies everywhere.”

Abel catches on to my growing anxiety and leans in to corner me. “There’s something else. What haven’t you told us?”

This is partly why I didn’t want to come back. My brothers’ intentions to protect me involve coaxing out every bit of information about my job. They mean well but I would rather die than expose them to the cruel, brutal world of the Peaky Blinders. How can I convince them not to worry when they keep asking questions?

I bite my lip. “Thomas- My boss… He used to be involved with the Russians.”

Conor’s jaw tightens. “Are you serious?”

“And you’re going along with this?” Nicolaas asks, appalled. “After what they did?”

I keep a look of confidence. “I leave it to Mr. Shelby. My business is anywhere else. He wanted me to chat up Mr. Anderson and now I’m scheduled to head to somewhere in France.”

Liam grunts. “We don’t know a thing ‘bout France.”

“It’s not your concern,” I state firmly. “I can’t do the work of a dozen, but I am able of doing this.”

“You can stand to work for them?” Eoin asks in disbelief.

“Aside from all their sex talk?” Abel’s jaw drops at my laid-back tone. “It’s tolerable. The drinking, smoking, swearing. It’s all old news to me now.”

All five brothers exchange looks. Are they ganging up on me? Do they not think I can handle myself after all these years?

“Verena,” Conor begins. “You’ve changed. Ever since you started working for this guy you’ve been distant. It’s like you don’t want to see us anymore.”

My face falls. Is that how they see me? They know me better than to think I would want to avoid them.

“Broers. I love you all. I love my familie. I will never abandon you. Did I not leave England to aid vader when he was injured?” They all look to the floor again. “And Eoin, I just spent the last three months watching your children. How is that not loyalty?” He doesn’t answer. “But I am loyal to the Shelbys too. I love them all, even with their flaws.”

“You’re so loyal that you’re spending Christmas away from us?” Abel asks softly.

I take a deep breath. “This time of year is supposed to be when people gather and celebrate the spirit of the season. This year has been really hard on the Shelbys and I want to be there to help.”

“You talk as if they’re family oriented like us,” Nicolaas observes. “Yet the rumor is that no one’s getting along.”

A bittersweet smile grows on my face as I lean in to give my broers one last hug. “That’s why I have to go.”

@meadows5

[mshroom1e]

Twst Characters and Cake Messages

The idea suddenly occurred to me. It sounded very funny in my head.

Just some silly headcanons based around some cakes I found on Pinterest

Grim sent this to Kalim after the orientation ceremony:

He felt very bad after Yuu reminded him what happened to Kalim during orientation

Wanted to apologise and Trey being Trey, suggested he made a cake.

Gave the cake to Kalim after Book 4

He was very happy about it.

Fed Grim some crackers as a thank you.

Silver's cake for Lilia's birthday:

Silver wanted to do something nice for his dear old dad's birthday. What better way to show someone appreciation than through a cake?

He'd (very badly) made him a cake before and wanted to do it again, hoping his skills had gotten better.

He was about to ice Lilia's age onto the cake but it suddenly occurred to him.

He didn't know Lilia's age.

So he just wrote "You've aged" and hoped for the best.

Lilia laughed out loud after receiving it.

Was very happy and was smiling the whole day.

A cake sent to Yuu from the horse girl himself, Riddle:

He invites Yuu to come look at the equestrian club since they have yet to join one.

Was going over the basics of mounting a horse with Yuu when it suddenly bit their arm.

Was panicking.

Trey, being Trey, said an apology through a cake would be nice while Yuu was recovering from the massive bite on their arm.

The cake tasted terrible.

Riddle forgot the oyster in dessert thing was a joke.

But hey, its the thought that counts.

A cake from Idia after a game night with Yuu:

Being a NA ver player, I (sadly) haven't finished book 6 yet and have no idea about what he's like with Yuu all too well.

But I imagine Yuu and Idia have weekly gaming sessions and he's a rage gamer.

When Yuu throws one of those annoying turtle shells at him while he's in the lead, he yells a string of "-insert incoherent game-based insults here-"

Yuu had no idea what any of what he said meant but Idia felt bad afterwards since what he said was very mean.

Ortho suggested the idea as his research showed giving cakes with messages was a very common thing to do with friends.

Sent a cake via a drone all the way to the Ramshackle Dorm as an apology.

The cake was surprisingly really good.

The OB group sent this to Yuu:

The message speaks for itself.

They're very sorry about the trouble they've caused, especially to Yuu who witnessed every single one (in my brain anyway)

Was made from a box cake recipie because I said so.

Tasted very nice.

A friendly reminder from Azul to whoever owes him anything:

As soon as I saw this cake, I knew who it was for.

Someone forgot to pay their debt and Jade wanted to make a cake but using mushrooms instead of flour.

Jade got to experiment and neither Floyd nor Azul had to eat it.

It's a win win.

RIP to the person who eats it though.

It's a one-way ticket to triggering your dormant IBS.

Adeuce and Grim trying to help a sad Yuu:

The trio noticed their best friend Yuu had been feeling sad.

They got the idea from Deuce.

It was half cooked since they all probably suck at cooking.

Triggered Yuu's IBS.

The icing was lumpy and the cake batter was raw but they tried their best.

Everyone was happy at the end. (Except Yuu's stomach)

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

A Birthday Letter From Lilia

Lil Lilia birthday letter I wrote about two years ago. Because I have a borderline unhealthy obsession with the man (haha), I've decided to expose y'all to him again! Happy Birthday to all the ones I've missed in my absence.

Note: Pronouns of the reader/recipient are not specified. Reader/recipient implied to be Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect

My dear one, 

Happy Birthday! Another year has gone by for you, and yet another awaits. I am sure you are in for the most fond of memories. For someone with such a short lifespan, I can understand why such a day is important. Ah, the throes of youth - surely you will live this day to the fullest. What might you have planned, I wonder? I certainly hope you will include me in the festivities! 

I am sure you have already opened the gift I sent with this little missive. Isn’t it the most adorable little thing? I saw it whilst out in town with the boys and knew you simply must have it! I could not help but get one myself - we’ll match! Perhaps you and I might see about getting our little bears some outfits? It is unbecoming for someone my age, but what is one without indulgences? I hope you will consider the offer. 

As you can see, the stuffed bear is not the only thing I have procured for you. Now, do be careful with that one. The book is in prime condition but, as you might be able to tell, it is quite the antique. I thought you might find some use for it, as you are in charge of both yourself and Grim. Little ones need good nutritious meals to grow strong and healthy, and that cookbook lists many such dishes. Certainly you have cooked before? If not, look no further! 

I will happily take you under my wing; I’ll make a chef out of you yet! Why, I have already taken the liberty of cooking a meal detailed within the very cookbook you now hold in your hands. You will find it on page twenty-three - the one with a picture of a chocolate cake. Now now, don’t fret. It gives me great joy to provide you with such a treat, even though it could rot your teeth. Quite the bad influence, aren’t I? Well, I’ll certainly make up for that once we’re busy in the kitchen. 

I must admit I have never followed most of those recipes. Yes, I do take into account the ingredients, but I have always kept the youngsters’ best interests in mind. In my opinion, you can never have enough fiber, protein, and other such things that make you grow big and strong. Why, just look at Silver! If I had followed all those recipes to the very detail, he would have never grown so tall! I only wish he would let me spoil him like I used to. Ah, but that is what I have you and the other youths for! 

Rejoice, dear one! We will have such fun cooking together - I just know it! Let me know the moment you would like to begin. Oh, but don’t worry about that today. After all, it is a day to celebrate! There is no need to worry about calories or nutrition. Stuff your face full of goodies, take in all your gifts, and bask in the endless attention; you certainly deserve it! 

I hope to see you soon, dear one. I can hardly wait to see the look on your face when you take a bite out of the cake I’ve prepared for you! 

- Lilia Vanrouge

[beeskneesshots]

Silver Bullet Masterlist

This Masterlist has been discountinued as I hit the limit with links and can't add any more. The updated version is in my pinned, or on this link *right here* <3 Have a nice day!

General

Silver Bullet

ignorance is bliss (ask)

daily life of a bartender (ask)

Headcanons (ask)

Mc’s Background 1

MC’s background 2

Sick (ask)

Gangleaders special drinks + drunken state

Warning (ask)

The Moth  ( Broken link )

Special tricks and HC (video attached)

The “Special” drink challenge (mostly Floyd, Rook // ask)

Grim + daily life (ask)

World Headcanons

MC headcanons

Prized, Precious you 

Silver Bullet Fic Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5 & Ch6

Character Ages for Silver bullet fic

Dangerous MC (ask)

More dangerous MC (ask)

Weekly meetings (ask)

Weekly meetings 2 (ask)

Teaching the first years a lesson (ask)

MC's hurt - Ch1 (video attached) & Ch2

Angry MC (ask)

Love for MC (discord // reader x MC/bartender)

More love for MC (reader x MC/bartender)

Grim

First encounter + living situation

Grim + daily life (ask)

feeding peanuts (ask)

Azul’s kid pic and saving grim (ask)

Saving grim (ask)

Heartslabyul

Lovedrunk (Riddle // ask)

Image (Trey)

Information’s Curse (Cater)

Diamond Candies (Cater)

Wild Card (Ace)

Ruffian (Deuce)

First costumers (Ace & Deuce)

Savanaclaw

Doorways (Leona)

Wounded (Leona)

Leona’s threat

Two polar opposites (Leona & Vil // ask)

Not so bad after all (Jake)

Octavinelle

Noisy costumers (Azul, Jamil & Vil/ // ask)

On an errand (Jade & Floyd // ask)

Give and take (Azul)

Complaining (Azul and Vil // ask)

Injured (Jade // ask)

Stalking (Jade // ask)

General Azul HC (ask)

Deals with Devils (Floyd)

The “Special” drink challenge (mostly Floyd, Rook // ask)

Azul’s kid pic and saving grim (ask)

Scarabia

Jamil’s birthday (ask)

Noisy costumers (Azul, Jamil & Vil // ask)

Pomefiore

Two polar opposites (Leona & Vil // ask)

Noisy costumers (Azul, Jamil & Vil // ask)

First impression (Vil, Rook & Epel // ask)

Violent meeting (Vil // ask)

Happy Birthday, my dear~ (Vil)

Complaining (Azul & Vil // ask)

The “Special” drink challenge (mostly Floyd, Rook // ask)

Ignihyde

Sadly there’s nothing for now

Diasomnia

First encounter (Malleus)

Crucial Lesson (Malleus)

Waltz (Malleus)

First encounter (Sebek)

NRC Staff / leaders / others

Crowley pushing the duty (ask)

MC’s hurt + song (Crowley & Crewel, video attached)

MC’s 2 dads being dads (Crowley & Crewel)

Overprotective Crewel

Pet’s are similar to their Masters: Pt1 & Pt2 

Training and tattoos (ask)

More tattoos (mostly Vargas and Sam // ask)

MC passing the test (gif ask)

Staff headcanons

Dilemma of future spouse (ask)

MC’s dads + fashion show with Mc’s kid (ask)

No swearing (Crewel // ask)

Some Crowley struggles (ask)

MC's childhood and staff parenting (ask)

Can I punch Riddle's mom??

Sebek's parents p1 & p2 (ask)

Author’s tag!

jackplushie

orangelemonsstuff

forgwater

emyluwinter

dandelionwhisp

scertifiedsavanaclawstan

galaxyshine24-7 (Masterlist)

[lifblogs]

Happy Bad Batch Day!

Have some fluff with a side of angst!

Omega rode on Wrecker’s shoulders, hands on his head, and peering forward excitedly at what he carried. With the lid of the box closed she couldn’t see or smell what they’d picked up from that strange place that smelled of sugar, and a million other sweet things she didn’t know of. The building had been out of the way, on the outskirts of the city, and looked much nicer than the majority of the buildings on Ord Mantell. She and Wrecker had been allowed a peak in the box to see if it suited their desires, and then it was all theirs.

“So what is that again?” Omega asked.

“Cake!” Wrecker answered, booming voice filled with enthusiasm. “Oh man, I can’t wait to eat it. I haven’t had cake in a whole year.”

“I haven’t had cake… ever.”

“Well that’s about to change.”

When they entered Cid’s place, Omega climbed off of Wrecker and onto the bar before kneeling on a stool.

Everyone in their squad gathered ‘round.

“You got it?” Hunter asked.

“It looks beautiful,” Wrecker told him.

Hunter opened the lid on the box to see for himself. From her vantage point Omega got another look at the white frosting, and the red 99 in icing on top. The large, round cake had red swirls all along the sides, and the red swirls circled the top of the cake.

“Wrecker, how much did this cost?”

Tech peered in, and adjusted his goggles. “Oh dear. We’ll be paying off Cid for life at this rate.”

Echo came over and put his arm around Tech. “Eh, it’ll be fine.”

“You don’t even like cake,” Tech argued.

“No, I hate whatever it was that you made last year.”

“Cake.”

“Not according to my taste buds.”

Wrecker laughed. “Who cares, we have a better one this year.”

“So what are we celebrating?” Omega asked as everyone set up, and Hunter was cleaning his vibroblade, perhaps to slice off pieces.

“Well, we don’t have birthdays,” Wrecker said.

Omega wrinkled her nose at the idea of birth. Gross.

“So we celebrate our decanting.”

“Hey, I was there for that!” Omega cried. “I… I really wanted to stay with you. All of you, till—till you’d know who I was.”

A tear slid down her face, surprising her, and she was shocked by the sudden, empty loneliness in her chest.

Wrecker put a giant hand on her shoulder, and wiped her tear away.

“It’s okay, kid. You’re with us now.”

Omega sat down. “And what about Crosshair?”

“Yes, it does feel odd doing this without him,” Tech said. “It’s… the first one he’ll miss.”

“Do you think that he’s okay?” Omega asked.

Hunter had a grim look on his face, and he responded honestly, “I don’t know. For now, there isn’t much we can do. We have to look at our losses, but celebrate what we do have. Yes, we lost one of our own.” His dark look turned into a smile, a loving warmth in his eyes as he beheld Omega. “But we gained something just as special.” He took her hand. “Do you want the first piece, Omega?”

She nodded, Hunter’s words drawing her from her melancholy. They were a soldier’s words, a leader’s words. And they were wise, and true.

Hunter gave a half-grin, and then said, “Actually, would you like to do the honors?”

He handed over his vibroblade.

Omega practically vibrated with excitement, and she was beaming at the blade, and Hunter, and the cake, and her family surrounding her.

“Would I ever?”

She took the proffered blade, and dug into the cake. She tried to make her slice proportionate, but she’d never done this before, so she ended up with an awkward triangle, the tapered point thin in comparison to the thick base. It wobbled onto the plate Echo held out, and flopped onto its side. Oops! Well, at least it was her piece she’d messed up.

Omega saw white frosting and some of the red icing on the knife, and started moving it towards her mouth.

“I’ll take that,” Hunter said quickly, grabbing it from her.

“What?” she asked, arms crossed in complaint until Echo handed her her plate and a fork.

“No licking knives.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. She was dying to try her slice, looking at the soft, dark color of the cake itself. It was probably moist, and sweet, and just perfect. The red icing complemented the red and near-black nicely. Yet she waited, making sure everyone had a slice.

They sat down at a table together, glancing at each other, seeing who would take the first bite.

Omega made sure it was her. She thought she was going to die from the perfection of her first bite. Contented sounds left all of them around the table.

“This… is so. Good,” Omega moaned.

Various nods, and mm-hmms met her.

“You got that right!” Wrecker said.

“I’m not saying this just because of the cake,” Omega started.

“Or are you?” Echo teased.

She flicked red icing at him, and they all laughed.

“What I’m trying to say,” Omega went on, “before I was rudely interrupted, is that… well, I’m glad you all exist. I… I’ve never had a family before, and that’s what you all are to me: a family. You helped me, gave me a home, and you’re super fun. I’m lucky to have you all.”

“And we’re lucky to have you,” Hunter said. “Now eat up. Come on, are we going to let this cake just sit here while we all talk?”

They laughed together, and dug into their cake once more, and Omega promised that someday, Crosshair would be celebrating with them.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: my fav little hater was upset about my post getting interactions again so they flagged it to be incorrectly labeled, meaning it's hidden from the majority of people so repost time! there is no mature content in this chapter, suck it. based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat. 

  Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

  You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her. 

  And a large hole in their wallet.

  “It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

  “This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

  It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

  You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

  “You got a number we can reach you at?”

  You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along. 

  “Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

  God, I hope so.

  The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

  You’d learned. Eventually.

  Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your back and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed. 

  Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no cool air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

  Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

  It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

  A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

  The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

  You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

  With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

  ─

  Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

  His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door. 

  “Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

  Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

  Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

  “Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

  “A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

  “Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

  He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something. 

  “What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

  “Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again.He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group. 

  Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred–with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through the wall. Henry had to go.

  Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

  “I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”  

  “Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more. 

  A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

  The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

  A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

  The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles. 

  Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling. 

  That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh. 

  It’s intimidating. 

  They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

  But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

  “Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

  “Yup.”

  “See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

  “Why not today?”

  “Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

  “I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

  Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

  You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them. 

  People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

  Someday, that would be you. 

  You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last. 

  Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

  The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

  “What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

  “Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

  “Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

  “Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

  As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

  The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

  Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

  Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

  You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

  He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

  He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

  The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

  Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

  But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

  Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

  When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

  Someone who looked like their art.

  You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

  You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

  Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

  “Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

  Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

  What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden? 

  He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. 

  Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

  Professionalism, he reminded himself.

  “Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

  “Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

  Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

  Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

  You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

  There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room. 

  On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

  “Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

  Sure you haven’t.

  “Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

  “You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

  He had no idea how right he was.

  “The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

  “And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

  First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

  “But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

  Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

  “You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

  “Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

  You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

  “Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack. 

  “Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

  “Did your tattoos hurt?”

  Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

  “A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

  “Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

  Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

  No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

  He was getting hard. 

  Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

  Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

  “Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

  You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

  The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

  “What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

  A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

  He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

  “That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

  You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

  Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

  “Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

  “Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

  “I’d be stupid not to.”

  You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

  “Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

  Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

  “Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

  “Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.” 

  “But I thought you said—” 

  “Me.”

  Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

  You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

  “So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face. 

  You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!” 

  He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

  “You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.” 

  Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

  “Wait—this is paid?”

  “Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

  Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

  Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

  The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you. 

  You’d have time to get there.

  “Hey, Deidre.”

  “Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

  He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

  “We’ll see you soon?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

  You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

  “Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile. 

  You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

  It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

  Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

  Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

  He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

  He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids. 

  Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

  “Need a hand?”

  Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

  Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

  “Are you offering yours?”

  She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

  “Mmm, not just my hand.”

  All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick. 

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

ok since you mentioned stardew valley i have to ask: who do you think the m6’s favorite sdv characters would be?

-🍄

The Arcana HCs: M6 playing Stardew Valley

~ dear anon, there is a reason for why I am known as brainrot. you have somehow combined two of my greatest obsessions and for that you have my thanks. please enjoy! - brainrot ~

(spoilers for SDV content)

Julian

He's got a special soft spot for George and Evelyn. He just wants to be their grandson (not by marriage though, Alex isn't really his type)

Lowkey freaked out by the wizard at first, learns to get along with him anyways because he made it possible to talk to the Junimos

Enjoys most of the game play besides the farming and crafting. He doesn't have the attention span for all of that

Initially falls for Leah, ends up marrying Shane because he told the farmer to leave him alone and Julian takes that as a challenge

It's also strangely cathartic for him to be on the other side of the "I can help him heal" trope

He likes Leo but learning about the shipwreck is mildly triggering for him, he's very happy once it's resolved and he can forget about it

Completely forgets about the Community Center at first because he's too busy romancing all the marriageables. Gets back to it after he's had two kids and befriended all the villagers

Convinced that Mr Qi is secretly evil

Gossips to MC about all of the lore between the villagers

Asra

Gets into it for the aesthetic, stays for the Junimos

Their farm is a jumbled hodgepodge of all the weirdest plants they could find, with random plots of crops needed for different quests

Spends so much time in the mines, there's just so many interesting creatures down there (and he likes all the gems and minerals)

Dislikes Clint so strongly that they end up dating Emily for the vibes and spite

Ends up having Krobus move in as his roommate, but his ideal is playing with MC so he can marry them

Doesn't put any effort into befriending most of the villagers until it becomes a requirement to achieve perfection, ends up stopping by Pierre's every Tuesday to hang out with all the moms

Likes Mr Qi for his aesthetic, gets a little hung up on the Wizard because that's not how magic works

Obsesses over finding all the artifacts, becomes friends with Penny and the kids from their frequent Library visits

Takes full advantage of using Lewis's shorts to mess with him in every possible way

Robin reminds them of their mom and they don't know how to feel about that

Nadia

She has some very strong opinions about Lewis as a mayor and the more she plays and finds out about him the stronger those opinions become

Dedicates herself to the Community Center as soon as it's unlocked

Has a hard time deciding who to court at first. She likes to know her goal before she starts her journey, but it's hard to get a read on everyone right off the bat

Chooses Leah and knows she's the right one when she gets to help her spite her ex by living well and thriving

Perfection is her end goal as soon as she learns about it

Has a soft spot for Linus and Harvey

Her farm is impeccable. Perfectly planned out, greenhouse at max capacity, crops always timed to yield the most harvest per season

Takes a grim satisfaction in Haley and Emily's sisterly disputes

Always has the perfect present prepared for someone's birthday. Except Lewis. She hates that she has to befriend Lewis

Lowkey judgemental of Marnie for sticking with him

Maxes out crafting first and uses everything she makes

Thinks that Robin should be mayor instead

Muriel

He loves Linus. He wants to live in a tent like Linus too

Does not like the mines at all. Too much animal killing

Avoids Shane at first because he clearly wants to be left alone, ends up befriending him for the blue chickens, is grateful he did once Shane gets his act together

Marries Penny to get her out of the trailer and because her interactions stress him out the least

Terrified of Emily, Alex, and Haley, doesn't go near that house

Hates Joja Co with a passion. It's what got him to complete the Community Center, because he wanted to see Morris's empire crumble at his feet. And to make the Junimos happy

Avoids all community events as much as he can

Loves fishing, foraging, and crafting. The first villagers he got ten hearts with were the Wizard and Willy

Fiercely protective of Leo, adores the parrots, tolerates Mr Qi

Prefers to play with MC and Asra, especially because he really wants the Golden Chicken from achieving perfection but he doesn't like talking to the villagers or going in the mines

Half of his farm is chicken coops

Portia

She starting playing it for the fun of a "build a new life" game and kept playing it for the mines and the villager drama

She's got the entire Friendship and Gifts page on the Stardew Valley Wiki memorized

Thinks the wizard is awesome because he teaches her magic

Has so many opinions on who should be with who that it makes it hard for her to settle down with someone. She ended up with Abigail for the swordfights and adventure

Hardcore ships Gus with Willy, waxes poetic about their shared scenes with the crab invasion and giant omelet

Wants Marnie and Marlon to date so badly, she writes tons of fanfiction about Lewis being brutally dumped and the two of them getting together and adopting Leo

Has a personal grudge against Sebastian because people keep rooting for him over his little sister and no she's not projecting at all

She'll reach perfection eventually because she's that good at managing her tasks, but it's not her main objective

Attends every single community event and comes up with so many headcanons about why this villager always stands there and what's going on with that dialogue

Lucio

Accidentally went the Joja route at first and got ticked off when it meant he was the "bad guy" just because he has FOMO

He's all about the adventuring, his farm is mostly wild

Gets annoyed by Marlon's cautious advice, thinks the wizard is cool for giving him magic but wishes he could do more with it

Married Haley and subsequently lost all his hearts with her because he was too busy getting out the door each morning

Couldn't be bothered with the Community Center until he reached the bottom of the mines and heard that there were more levels elsewhere

Divorces Haley to marry Sandy, throws a fit when he finds out she isn't marriageable. Marries Elliot instead because he wrote a book for him

Hates fishing with a passion, especially the legendary fish

Really starts getting into the game once Calico Desert and Ginger Island are open

Obsessed with raising slimes

Doesn't meet Krobus for a long time because he couldn't be bothered with artifacts, brings him diamonds every week once he does

Also wants to be friends with Kent but can't remember his likes

Desperately craves Mr Qi's approval

[kirans-wonderland]

Malleus Birthday Special~

"Cmon Lilia pleaseeee. You gotta tell me" you pleaded trailing behind the older fae. "ah ah ah i'm afraid i cannot help you dearie. Why don't you ask him yourself?" You groaned. "You think I haven't tried that!? Every time i ask him what he would want he just avoids the question. I'm desperate Lils. D e s p e r a t e." The fae chuckled "I wouldn't concern yourself too much with this matter" he teased before disappearing from your line of sight.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

And thats how you ended up here... listening to Sebek... rant about Malleus. "IN CONCLUSION, I PERSONALLY WOULD BESTOW MASTER MALLEUS WITH A RECOUNTING OF HIS ACHIEVEMENTS AND WONDEROUS QUALITIES AS A GIFT ON THE DAY OF HIS BIRTH-" "SEBEK- I got it thanks. I'll keep that in mind." you sighed, rubbing your ringing ear. "I AM GLAD I COULD BE OF SUCH ASSISTANCE!!" You pursed you lips and patted his shoulder before leaving. And there's the end of the quick list.

Silver sleeping

Lilia enigmatic unhelpful grandpa

Sebek he tried, he really did <3

...

And so the day arrived, still without a gift for Malleus. This really shouldn't be so hard but what do you get for a dragon let alone a prince?? You're borderline frantic at his point. "Cmon henchhuman it's not thaaaat bad, it's not like he'll kill you... right?" "Grimmmm you're not helpi-" Knocking at the door cut you off. Exchanging a wide eyed look with Grim you moved to the door, wishing to the Great Seven that the one behind the door wasn't Malleus. The one time you'd be excited for Adeuce to come tumbling through your doorstep.

The door opened with a deafening creak. Oil hinges.. right, added to the list. And there Malleus stood. "Greetings Child of Man" "Hey Mal" "I was wondering if you would be willing to advance our daily stroll." He offered holding out his arm. You nodded putting your arm through his as you set off. You couldn't bring yourself to stop getting lost in the thought about your lack of gift. "-N... y/n? Are you alright?" You snapping out of your daze "h-huh? Oh yeah. Don't worry I'm listening."

He furrowed his brows, leading you to sit down together on a fallen tree. "What is the matter?" You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. "I'm sorry. I just- I really wanted to get you something special for your birthday.. i just couldn't think of anything. i'm sorry Malleus." You finished putting your head in your hands. He stared ay your hunched figure with slight bewilderment. He paused before laying his hand on your back. "This." You looked at him. "What?" "This. This is what I wanted." He smiled, moving a lock of hair out of your face. "I cannot fathom a gift I would desire more today than you darling." He kissed your forehead. It was your turn to smile feeling like you were going to cry over how wholesome he is. "I have an idea now" He raised his eyebrows "Oh? reall-" You cut him off pressing a kiss to his lips. He moved his hand to run through the hair at the nape of your neck keeping you close. You pulled away leaning your forehead to his. Letting out an airy chuckle you wished him a happy birthday. "It definitely is my dear~"

~~~~~~~~

YES I GOT IT OUT BEFORE MIDNIGHT (well, my time)

I ALMOST THREW UP WRITING THIS OMG IMAGINE IF MEN WERE MALLEUS.

anyways, sweet dreams all~

[hebuiltfive]

I Know Places: Chapter One (Part One)

In honour of our dear Flyboy’s birthday (and because it completely slipped my mind and I have nothing else prepared) here’s the short and sweet first part of Chapter One of a piece I’ve been working on slowly. No angst (except at the start where he’s recounting the mission). Happy Birthday, Scotty. 💙

——————————————————————————

The deep baritone laugh of his brother reverberated through him and continued to echo even after Virgil had stopped chuckling. Scott cherished the sound, allowing himself a few moments to take in his brother’s laughter and appreciate it for all it was worth. He had been so close to losing that sound forever.

They were all accustomed to close calls. Their job demanded that they grow familiar with the Grim Reaper lurking on the sidelines of each and every rescue. They all had their ways of coping with that imagery and, for the most part, they all continued rather normally despite the constant threat. How they managed to do that was anyone’s guess, and they would all probably be incredibly fascinating to any therapist who wanted five boys with baggage, but they never dared to stop and question. All five of them had made peace with it, as had their close family and friends.

Normally, a close call wouldn’t have shaken Scott so much but today’s mission had been different. Today, they’d escaped by the skin of their teeth. Scott wouldn’t have even termed it a “close call” simply because it seemed too close for comfort. He nearly didn’t make it out, and there had been nothing Virgil could have done about it.

They — the people he’d been tasked with rescuing — nearly didn’t make it out, which somehow made things worse.

Scott could have made peace with his demise. He had often said silent prayers to his parents in the tighter spots he had found himself in, anyway. This would have been no different. Of course, he certainly never dreamed of or wished for such an occurrence, but if it meant getting those people to safety, he would always, always chose the lives of others over himself. To save them rather than to be saved. All of his brothers had that mentality and part of him hated that fact. If he had been the only one caught up in that place, if he’d been the only one to have never stepped foot into the turbulent world beyond those reinforced doors again, then maybe Scott wouldn’t have been so panicked.

As it was, he had never felt so scared. On the outside, he had managed to keep himself cool, calm and collected. On the inside, it had been an entirely separate case. With the exception of maybe only Virgil, no-one would have been able to notice the raging that had been silently brewing away deep inside as those seconds had ticked down.

His fists had pounded on that steel door until the vibrations rang through his bones. The rescue wasn’t over until there was no-one left to rescue. Over and over Scott had battled with the unfamiliar feeling of despair, reassuring himself that Virgil would somehow get through and that he just had to keep on breathing. The relief he had felt when that sealed door had finally slid open, revealing the tunnel beyond, was paramount to none.

In the end, it hadn’t mattered who had opened those doors. Scott had only been eternally grateful to the universe coming through for him.

For them.

For her.

Scott turned back to Marion. She was still smiling. He had no doubt in his mind that she was just as relieved as both he and Cameron were to be out of the plant. Of course, he had no way of knowing whether her calm demeanour in those last few minutes was also an act as his had been — shy of asking, and there was no chance he was about to do that so soon after the debacle — but Scott found himself oddly proud of her for not losing her head. In any rescue, one of his biggest worries was always having to work out a solution as well as deal with a panicking rescuee. He was grateful that he hadn’t needed to worry about that with Marion, or with Cameron for that matter. They had both shown that they were resilient and…

Since when did he offer such a detailed report of a rescuee’s behaviour when there was little to actually note? Especially when his designated rescuee wasn’t even the actual rescuee?

“Do I even want to ask?” Marion questioned with a quizzical look.

Scott’s brows furrowed in confusion before realising what she was referring to. He chuckled. “Oh, the popcorn? We were supposed to be having a movie night before we go the call. I’d made myself popcorn and left it on the side when I responded. Virgil stole it, thus he is a thief that owes me more.”

“If Scott’s got any say,” Virgil chimed in over Thunderbird Two’s loudspeakers, “then he’ll be making me fetch him popcorn for the next three movie nights as punishment.”

“Three?” Scott queried with a humorous tone. “I think you mean five.”

Again, Virgil’s laugh echoed, this time around the Shackleton complex. As it had done the first time, the blessed sound warmed Scott’s heart.

“Your cruelty knows no bounds, big brother.” Virgil replied before the click of the loudspeaker being switched off was heard and his laughter ceased.

The area seemed silent without Virgil’s deep tones bouncing off the buildings, and Scott suddenly felt rather awkward. He observed Marion who still stood only a couple of feet away from him. Her helmet was still tucked underneath one of her arms, her side plait slightly dishevelled from the ordeal they’d just escaped from. A couple of stray strands blew in the breeze and Scott told himself that his next words were solely down to them simply having narrowly escaped a horrific death together, not because of anything else.

“Speaking of popcorn and movie nights,—”

He gestured towards Thunderbird One. Her silver hull shone proudly in the dying light of the day, a day that had almost been their last. He had come so close to not seeing her again, not flying her again, but for once in his life that heartache wasn’t the strongest he currently felt. As he had come to terms with the forever unfavourable odds of his job, Scott had come to terms with what that would mean for his ship. The relief of seeing his ‘bird again after narrowly escaping a harrowing rescue was a familiar feeling to the pilot. This other feeling was less familiar.

Scott mentally threw away those thoughts and banished whatever he felt. He was just tired and in need of a long, long sleep. He attempted his best charming smile, no matter how weak it felt, as he continued, “we never did start the movie. How’d you like a ride over? If you’re not busy, of course.”

The last amendment was added on in haste. His avoidance of straight out asking Marion if she wished to travel back to their villa to watch a film with them — with him — was due solely to his attempt to sound casual. It hadn’t worked, and he knew it hadn’t. No matter how hard he had tried to seem indifferent, Scott couldn’t stop that innate feeling of sounding like a fool as the words left his mouth.

Internally, he cringed at himself. Scott was acutely aware of the subtle arch of Marion’s brow as he’d put forward his suggestion.

Her smile had remained, however, and her brown eyes averted away from him, over his shoulder and to Thunderbird One behind him. Marion’s gaze swept over his ship and, for a moment at least, Scott thought she might have agreed to his preposterous idea. There was a twinkle in those assessing eyes that he foolishly read as acceptance, a tiny step towards his ship, towards him that suggested the next words out of her mouth would be an agreement.

The GDF jet a few meters behind Marion roared, and whatever she’d been thinking, whatever she’d been about to say, was abruptly halted. She gently shook her head.

“I have to get back. Cameron and I will have reports to do.”

There was an unfamiliar sinking feeling that Scott felt but refused to acknowledge. He knew his idea was probably going to get shot down but he hadn’t expected to care that much, simply because he didn’t care. It was a nice, friendly gesture and Marion was busy.

Shamefully quickly, Scott nodded along and, in addition, blurted out, “So do we, actually.”

He heard a small snigger over his comms unit.

Virgil.

Though the loudspeakers had been shut off, his brother’s radio link was still very much active, meaning Virgil had just heard every single word of Scott’s embarrassing attempted proposition. Oh, he’d never hear the end of it now.

Scott sighed, eyes lowering to the ground double defeat.

Marion patted his arm. She hadn’t heard Virgil’s snort due to it only having been on their private line, which meant that she probably thought that his sigh was down to her decline and—

Before Scott could explain that he wasn’t as downhearted as she might have believed — a lie, but not a total one, so he could live with it — Marion’s hand lifted to brushed a stray strand of hair that had somehow fallen out of place despite all that extra-hold gel he’d swiped through it that afternoon.

“Ask me again another time when I’m a little less busy, and I might say yes.”

He barely had a beat to process that before Marion was walking away. Scott blinked at her back and continued to watch until she rounded the corner of one of Shackleton’s buildings, out of sight but not out of mind. The GDF jet roared once again a few minutes later as it rose into the night sky, setting off for whatever base Marion and Cameron were to be deposited at.

Only once the chilly night breeze snapped him out of his daydream did Scott return to Thunderbird One. Virgil, as he so often did, had waited for him and together they flew the leg back home to base.