• futuredeanthefearlessleader started following you
• chekovoftheenterprise started following you

He didn’t expect business today.

You see, the thing with Everett’s shop was that every time he got business he was slammed with it. Today’s pushy client wants him to put tabs on her cheating husband and catch him in the act. He’ll be the first to tell you that’s no easy feat. You have to track the guy, plant certain look outs, pry a little deeper than surface level and seeing as how the man she’s married to is involved with a fairly secretive organization, it’s a tough nut to crack.

He’s got her on the phone, trying to figure out precise locations she refuses to give him when he hears the tiny bell above the door ring. She’s midway through screaming at him to do his job when he slams the phone back down on the receiver so fast it makes the card table it’s on shake.

Everett pinches his nose, aggravated, and rushes to the front muttering “holy shit.”

The greeting is mechanical. “What is it? Lost, need to file a task, here to check up on one?”

Snap || gravelyeverett

fantasticmr-fife:

Bad for business and a waste of life. Grian was hardly knowledgeable about the mob. But he was certain that their point was to terrorize and hold the fear over everyone’s head. Or at least, that was what the films always wanted to say.

Tired of dying.
Yes, so tired. But he needed it. A mixed look crossed his features and the artist shrugged, “I…well..” it was only tiring when he had overzealous clients who wanted death after death after death after death, “not…I don’t think I do, at least.” What else would he do? Sell flowers? This was the only job he was cut out for.

He blinked. “Not at all?” The whole process looked exhausting. The sweating, screaming, body detoxifying itself. It looked like after a single round it would  render a person utterly knackered. Or was being tired a concept foreign to a creature of death?

Death never takes, or so it is said. Maybe that’s just how he’s wired to function. It’s just how he is by nature, by design. “It looks hellish.” And that’s admitted with a bit of sheepishness, slight edge of guilt. How Grian managed to hold that job without losing his mind was beyond him. Being killed over and over again certainly didn’t seem to be an overly glamorous job.

the-psychotic-sweethearts:

It wasn’t exactly an ordinary greeting, but Charlotte pays no mind to that. She’s busy thinking. She’d never really liked riddles, never had been good at them, always ended up frustrated. She sighs and gives a small shrug. “I haven’t got any idea.”

“No?” There’s a small smile, not mocking, simply one of habit. He personally was never good at riddles either. Until Cole, that is. All about keeping an open mind. “The letter ‘e’. Get it? Beginning of the end, end of the universe? Without the letter e, Earth would be nothing, but there’s no ‘e’ in anything. Everett Graves. Nice to meet you.”

iwanttoburnthepastaway:

Thomas noted the lack of enthusiasm in the other and quickly calmed himself. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ve never been any good at riddles, this is just one of those lucky times.” he subconsciously reached up and scratched the back of his neck. “Um, it’s nice to meet you Everett, the name’s Thomas.” he replied, giving a little smile. “And I’m not exactly looking for anything so chat I guess.”

“… Why apologize?” Apologizing was so silly, especially when nothing wrong was done. It was no fault of Thomas’s but Everett’s own chemical coding that caused the lack of response or enthusiasm. The only thing left to blame were the wires that didn’t cross properly in his head. At any rate. “Nice t’meet’cha too, Thomas. And if tha’s th’case, would you mind if we went elsewhere to chat? I don’t like being outside. Can get coffee or something. I’ll buy.”

“Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiil’ duckliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin’s—”

“Th-they’s so lil’— an’ tiny— an yella’—”

icallurname:

let-them-eat-vag:

Fuck me this is the cutest fucking duck video I’ve ever fucking seen in my whole fucking life it’s a huge fucking deal

aflack

iwanttoburnthepastaway:

Thomas narrowed his eyes, both suspicious of the stranger who had just randomly asked him a question, and curious to see what the answer was. He pondered it for a second, thinking of all the different answers. Matter, nope. Air, nope…. “You’re the letter E” he replied triumphantly. “The first letter of end is E, the last of universe is E. Without the E in Earth it makes no sense and emptiness had two Es in it yet anything has none. You re the letter E.”

Hmph. Maybe he should have gone with the one about the man with an ax at the end of a bridge. “Ayup, tha’d be it.” Oh, stop with that look, Ev. Try to show a little more enthusiasm than that blank slate, would you? He tries for a polite smile, but it feels strained so it drops. “Everett. Come looking for a chat or do you need something?” Ev, you can’t just jump topics like that. Stop.

beauteblanc:

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, monsieur Graves.” She informed him, despite how frail and sheepish she appeared to be. “I… you own this place, I believe? A sort of shop, I’m assuming.” She both inquired and mused, her smile only small.

“Likewise, Miss Mayebelle. Êtes-vous français?” There’s a pause. Jesus, curiosity would kill him. Doesn’t want to go back to wherever she came from, more delicate looking than a China doll— What sort of a story did she have? “Yes ma’am, on both accounts. Would you like to sit down? Want some water or something?”