the smiling assassin.

“I had them made. I know what you like.” 

He looked rather smug, tearing the wrapping paper off his own gift. Removing the lid of the box, he pulled out a set of nice headphones and a warm scarf. Instantly wrapping himself in the scarf, he put his arm around the blonde and pulled him close to him.

“Buon Natale, Melone.”

“They’re beautiful.” Melone almost looks like he’s going to cry, but he doesn’t, because he’s better than that. Instead, he hooks the necklace around his throat, letting it settle in the hollow of his throat.

Ghiaccio took the box, though leaning over to steal just a few more kisses from Melone in gratitude and excitement. One could say it’s almost too childish the way he acts about this occasion, sure, but he literally could care less about that. Another year of survival, another year to reap the rewards, after all.

“Thanks!”

But Ghiaccio didn’t forget about him, either; slipping a small box from his pocket and putting it into Melone’s hand before drawing him in for one more quick peck.

Ghiaccio really as too cute on holidays. He got so excited that his usually grumpy exterior practically melted away. 

Melone curled his fingers around the box before curiosity got he better of him and he tugged the paper away from it. His eyes practically sparkled at the sight of the necklace and earrings.

Ghiaccio is showered in kisses as soon as he alked in the door, of course and then Melone is handing him a box that was wrapped in soft shades of blue and white. 

He almost trips over the box when he goes out to get mail. Almost means he bumps his foot on it and notices it before he bumps into the railing in his distraction.

He tucks it under his arm to read the note, and a smile breaks across his face as he reads it. He had dropped off her Halloeen gift without her knowledge, so it seemed fit she did the same.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM YOUR FAVORITE NERD!! ( image cred. )

it’s been a crazy year, hasn’t it? i haven’t been as active on melone as i would have liked lately, but i just wanted to tell everyone who made this blog awesome how much i love them. i never thought melone would get the attention he did, nor did i think anyone would care so much about my portrayal of this minor ass antagonist who died off panel.

this is just a thank you post for everyone who i’ve met who made an impact on my blog / how i write / my whole life.

One of the (many) things she appreciated about Melone was his excellent sense of humor. He was one of the few people who thought her jokes were just as funny as she did.

“Really? How long did it take? When I help my dad with them lights it usually takes us around half an hour.” She paused. Serina hadn’t thought about it before, but this was going to be her first Christmas by herself in a couple of years. “What are your plans for Christmas, by the way? Is it just gonna be you and your partner?”

"Only an hour or so. But it was still an adventure.” He snorted softly, looking to the tangle of wires in his lap as his hands worked gently.

From here

“Thanks! You’re a real light saver!” She couldn’t help laughing at her own joke no matter how much of a faux pas that was.

After taking a moment to wipe a tear of laughter from her eye, she handed him one of the strands of lights that had been giving her trouble. “Seriously though, I really appreciate it!”

He paused some before bursting into a fit of giggles alongside her, stifling the noise with his hands before he calmed down. Serina was too much sometimes; it was so endearing.

“If you’re sure, Don Giovanna.”

His own leather gloves had been left at home when the Don has asked him to accompany outside in such cool weather. Italy really was different in the winter; it wasn’t right for it to be so cold without snow.

tagged by: @prontocapo​. tagging: @lexiconniption​ whoever else wants to.

TASTES: sharp, sour tastes ; cocktails that hide the sting of liquor under the soft taste of fruit and sugar ; fresh seafood, pulled right off the boat ; blood, though you aren’t sure if it’s yours or someone else’s at this point.

SMELLS: disinfectant ; computer cleaner ; lilies, wafting on the air as you pass ; blood from an unknown source, thick and coppery ; the smell of sea salt, clinging to a person yeas after they’ve left the seaside ; dusty, leather-bound books of scripture put up on a shelf and forgotten.

SIGHTS: a rose, bloomed so big that you can’t see the thorns beneath it ; blood in a vial ; a computer, balanced precariously on a lap ; a sharp-toothed grin belonging to something not human ; memories that are fuzzy at best and gone at worst ; scars across pale skin ; a face, confident but half-hidden.

SOUNDS: the noisy clack of computer keys ; the rev of a motorcycle engine ; glass vials clinking together ; laughter, both fake and real ; the noise of city nightlife, bustling and comfortable ; the crackling of ice upon skin ; screams, then silence.

SENSATIONS: the press of fingers on computer keys, ready and waiting ; leather, warmed under the italian sun on a long beach drive ; sliding down sand dunes on sunny days ; feeling blood on your hands when none is really there.

OUTFITS: asymmetry everywhere, in clothes and hair and style in general ; bright, bold patterns and colors, usually pink or purple ; eyepatches and masks, worn both to hide and to emphasize ; leather gloves and leather boots ; long sweaters and dark jeans.