What will it be, Doll?

Spades was tipsy. Well, actually, he was three drinks in to the night and was starting to lose what decency he had left. He’d even flung his jacket off and opened the top few buttons of his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The picture of a man blowing what little cash he had to spend and not giving a single fuck.

The bar itself was barely crowded, only enough for there to be a buzz of conversation in his ears. No one had yet to spark his interest; he just kept drinking, sat in the corner and listening to the old style jazz the place had playing over the speakers.

He saw the doors open and shut, bringing a few new patrons into the dusky bar, and Spades decided it was a good time to put more alcohol into his system.

The lanky man was starting to make his way to the bar to order a fourth drink when he spotted a cute little thing head the same way. Leaving all caution to the wind, he picked up the pace to meet the other person at the bar, a shark-like grin on his face.

wow that was fast and this is long af

Spades lives his entire life as one big, dangerous gamble, and many of his memories have danger in them. However, there is one that sticks out in particular.

He’d only just moved into his current home, the rickety old four story house with its crumbling foundation and peeling wallpaper. The one up on the hill tucked away in that giant, ancient graveyard. Perhaps someone his age should’ve known better than to explore that graveyard, more so when he was told not to go disturbing the dead - but he was curious and stupid.

In hindsight, the poor Grimm he had stumbled upon had probably been just as surprised and spooked as he had been, but at the time all he could think of was the danger he was in, the wrath of the Grimm heavy in the air and his fragile body consumed with fear and the ever present instinct to run.

The supernatural creature’s claws reaching to rip through his flesh, its cries of anguish and anger ringing in his ears, Spades barely slipped away from the Grimm. He had thought he would lose the undead beast, only to feel its claws sink into his back seconds later, burning his skin and forcing him to fall to the ground.

Spades can remember the chalky taste of ash in his mouth, a vivid thing he could never forget. He knew the Grimm was still standing above him, could hear its ragged breathing and the dry sound of fabric rustling. Honestly, the fear that was heavy in his stomach made him want to be sick; the man had thought he would die, alone, in the cold dusk at the hands of an undead monster.

But it didn’t even try to kill him. Once he was on the ground it only watched him with cold, dead eyes. If he was one to wax poetry, he’d compare it to a vulture waiting on prey to die. 

🌈- A memory about when they first fell in love

🌋- A memory about their first heartbreak

🏠- A memory about their childhood home/where they used to live

📷- A memory that comes with a picture they have

💡- A memory that comes with an object or keepsake they have

🔪- A memory about a dangerous situation

🎈- A memory about a time they were safe and relaxed

📔- A memory from a journal/diary entry

📝- A memory of them getting to know/meeting my muse

🔗- A memory about their proposal/wedding

🐥- A memory about their children (past, present, or future)

👘- A memory associated with an article of clothing they have

⚔️- A memory about war

🌅- A memory associated with a certain location

🏚- A memory about exploration

🛤- A memory about traveling

🌠- A time they wished upon a falling star

🐕-A memory of teamwork

🐺- A memory about being alone

🌟- WILDCARD

▸     IS  YOUR  MUSE  TALL  /   SHORT  /   AVERAGE?

Pretty damn tall. He’s 6 feet and 7 inches tall on a good day without his heels.

▸     ARE  THEY  OKAY  WITH  THEIR   HEIGHT?

He can’t really control it, and looming over people is a great intimidation method. So, yeah? Unless he has to be in a building with low ceilings. 

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE?

Wild and curly. Really soft and usually clean though.

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     / GROOMING?

Besides regular hygiene to look presentable, sometimes he bothers to try and flatten his mop. :/

▸     DOES  YOUR  MUSE  CARE  ABOUT  THEIR  APPEARANCE  /  WHAT  OTHERS   THINK?

Kind of! He has a giant, skull shaped birthmark on his face, he’s freakishly tall, and has a mop of gravity defying curls after all, so he fusses over his appearance a lot and suffers from anxiety about how strangers stare at him.

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS  OR   OUTDOORS?

Indoors. 

▸     RAIN  OR   SUNSHINE?  

Rain. He likes the smell of rainy days.

▸     FOREST  OR   BEACH?

He’s been to the beach a whole of 1 time and nearly drowned so let’s go with forest.

▸     PRECIOUS  METALS  OR   GEMS?

Gems are easier to enchant.

▸     FLOWERS  OR   PERFUMES?

Uuuuhhh flowers? He doesn’t really like artificial fragrances.

▸  PERSONALITY  OR   APPEARANCE?

Personality! An appearance will make him turn his head, but what’s underneath is what makes him stay.

▸     BEING  ALONE  OR  BEING  IN  A   CROWD?

Being alone. He hates crowds because of the constant stares, pointing and whispering, and also being alone means his dog can safely stay on the ground without being stepped on.

▸     ORDER  OR   ANARCHY?

ANARCHY, BITCH.

▸   PAINFUL  TRUTHS  OR  WHITE   LIES?

Lying is the best fun you know.

▸     SCIENCE   OR   MAGIC?

…..both? He considers science just a watered down version of magic able to be used by non-mages. 

▸     PEACE  OR   CONFLICT?  

He profits from conflict, so, y’know. LET THERE BE BLOODSHED!

▸     NIGHT  OR   DAY?

Night! Less people and its socially acceptable to open three more bottles of wine.

▸     DUSK  OR   DAWN?

Dusk.

▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD?

Eh. He has magic to keep him comfortable either way.

▸   MANY  ACQUAINTANCES  OR  A  FEW  CLOSE   FRIENDS?

Very few close friends. Very, very few.

▸   READING    OR    PLAYING    A   GAME?

Reading.

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS?

Fuck if I know. He’s got so many??? He barely eats, he forgets to take the medications that keep him from Not Dying, he forgets that the human body needs sleep, he talks too much sometimes and can be pretty pushy. He smokes and drinks a lot, too, and sometimes mixes his prescribed drugs with illegal ones. So uh....he’s pretty much a walking disaster on a good day.

▸     HAS  YOUR  MUSE  LOST  ANYONE  CLOSE  TO THEM?   HOW  HAS  IT  AFFECTED THEM?

>v> HAHAHA his entire family for starters. He lost his mother at birth, his father killed himself when he was nine, both of his sisters were murdered for being witches when he was 20 and he’s lost plenty of lovers and friends over the course of 300 years.

▸     WHAT  ARE  SOME  FOND  MEMORIES  YOUR  MUSE HAS?

When he got Killer, his current dog. He’d been told to get a service/medical alert dog and went into a pound. He didn’t find Killer there, but came home the same day to find an itty bitty poodle puppy underneath his porch. He fell in love with her right there and then because she was this tiny fragile thing abandoned in a world of horrible shitty people and yet she still had it in her to trust him to take care of her.

▸     IS  IT  EASY  FOR  YOUR  MUSE  TO KILL?

He won’t hesitate to kill someone, but what he did will eat him alive later.

▸      WHAT’S  IT  LIKE  WHEN  YOUR  MUSE  BREAKS  DOWN?

VIOLENT. HORRID. HEARTWRENCHING. A lot of screaming, throwing things, gross sobbing and sometimes throwing up if he doesn't calm down with twenty or so minutes. He’s been known to lash out at people who get too close, and it only makes the breakdown worse.

▸     IS  YOUR  MUSE  CAPABLE  OF  TRUSTING  SOMEONE  WITH  THEIR LIFE? 

Maybe. 

▸      WHAT’S  YOUR  MUSE  LIKE  WHEN  THEY’RE  IN LOVE?

In public he’s totally a jealous, possessive lover complete with over the top flirting and lewd jokes and “back-the-fuck-off” comments to poor onlookers, but in private he’s soft and playful and openly swoons and fusses over the one he loves and is open with his emotions. Most of the time. I haven't written him in love with anything/anyone other than alcohol. :/

TAGGED: @misfortuning thanks for tagging me 

   The man is charming and even more disarming (where on earth had the seating arrangements come from, and how had he made the chair move like that?), and Sparrow is too easily swept along in his momentum. In fact, part of her is grateful for the chance to sit down, as the entire situation has her feeling more than a bit off-balance. Despite her best efforts she can’t help but continue to stare a little, somewhat in awe of his appearance that seems only enhanced by his personality.

   “Oh, no, I’m sure you’re not silly,” comes the automatic protest. Lord forbid anyone demean themselves in front of Sparrow, and it’s that, more than her need to center herself or the impatience she can almost feel radiating from him, that ensures she takes a seat. Hands fold together almost nervously in her lap, fingers hugging each other tightly. “I’m…I’m Sparrow. Is there, um, anything I need to do, or…?”

   Clearly, she’s very far out of her depth here.

Ah, what a sweet, well-meaning girl. Perhaps he wouldn’t trick her as badly as his usual cliental. He smiles at her, letting her get settled before he leaned forward and shuffled the deck in his hands once more before carefully setting the deck face-down on the table.

“I know very well, doll, what I’m like. I’m quite silly, believe me.” The lanky man spoke in a nonchalant tone of voice, completely believing the words. Silly was just a watered down version of strange or weird after all, and a man like him was most definitely strange. From his height, to his lifestyle and to the markings on his face. Very silly, indeed. “Just sit there and relax, doll, the cards will reveal whatever is wished for.”

Carefully taking from the top of the deck, he laid out three cards, each facedown, in a neat little row in front of the girl - of this little Sparrow. Spades clasped his hands together, giving the girl his undivided attention. Well, most of it, anyway.

   Lost in thought as she is, Sparrow would have entirely missed the man blended into the dark had he not spoken up, stepped closer—no, loomed closer. The suddenness and eccentricity of his appearance has her pace stuttering to a halt, even backtracking a bit before she can help it (perhaps against saner judgement). Her eyes are wide as she stares up, up at him, a deer in the headlights.

   “Oh—no, I, erm—I think just a tarot reading would be fine…?” she manages to stammer out, alarmed not only by the idea of having enemies, but of wanting to harm them so much that she would hire someone to do it. Of the options, a tarot reading sounds much, much safer. And so it is that she’s unwittingly fallen right into the role of a perfect…client. Ahem. 

   Realizing that she’s perhaps staring a bit too much (and that she also has no clue how much his services cost), Sparrow flushes and addresses his shoes. “Ah… But, um…I’m afraid I won’t be able to afford anything too expensive.”

“Oh, no worries, doll!” Reaching to take her hand with blackened claws, Spades spun her around to a table and two chairs - a set that definitely wasn’t there a minute ago. He hoped the café across the street didn’t notice the missing items he’d pulled right off of their seating area. Pulling out one of the chairs with a snap of his fingers, he winked at the girl. “My prices are more than affordable.”

Sitting down in the chair opposite, he shuffled the cards in his hands, softly glowing eyes narrowed as he watched the girl. Whether she sat down or not was still up in the air, as she hadn’t exactly said yes. He was hopeful, though. It was just spare change, but he wanted to get something here; he had a few debts to pay off, after all.

“Hey, and if you’re unhappy with the reading, baby, I’ll even let you go at no charge. Can’t you spare some time for a silly little magician peddling his wares?” He smiled, sharp teeth bared and claws impatiently tap-tap-tapping against the iron tabletop. An impatient predator, eager to pounce and sink his teeth into a new fare.