It's been a terribly long time since I wrote anything. Like, it's criminal. Go straight to jail, me. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

For my long overdue reentry into the writing world, I give you this tattooshop!AU. Enjoy!

Permanent

Chapter 1

"Mal, we've got a girl lookin' for you."

Without looking up from her work, Maleficent places her pencil down and leans back in her chair. Her fingers tent under her chin as she studies the lines on the paper in front of her. For several moments it seems she either did not hear Diaval or simply does not care to answer, but just as the man opens his mouth to repeat himself, she finally speaks. "Does she have an appointment?"

"No. She'd like to make one with you."

Maleficent's elbows press against the edge of her station and she stares at the design, following the curves and swirls of her current project: a massive back piece for a client of hers that she's worked on several times in the past. He had requested something medieval and dark, two things Maleficent is quite fond of herself. He has loved everything she has created for him and has never had a critical word for her work, but if Maleficent is not absolutely satisfied with it, if she will not wear it herself, then she will sooner start all over again from scratch before she ever even considers putting it on anyone's skin.

The palm of her hand slaps in the center of the paper, long fingers crumpling it into her fist. Her other hand joins in the destruction and beats the paper into a tight ball. Tossing it into the half full bin beside her desk, Maleficent finally stands and turns to face Diaval standing in the threshold of her study. He's smiling at her, most of his upper lip concealed by the massive septum ring hanging from his nose.

"Out." The woman marches forward and Diaval, smart boy, gets out of her way. Maleficent rounds the corner and walks through the main work room, the buzz of tattoo guns becoming background noise as she approaches the front counter of her shop. She pulls a crimson binder from a side shelf and spreads it open. She does not look at the customer as she flips to the correct date, scanning the squares of the calendar in search of a free space. In her peripherals, she notes a figure in a white dress.

"I'm booked for the next four weeks. I don't work on Sundays or Mondays. I charge eighty an hour and expect twenty dollars in advance to hold your appointment. Original artwork only or a design I've made, nothing you saw online, and I swear to the gods if you ask me to do the 'feather that turns into birds', I'll kick you out myself. Tuesday, June thirteenth is my next open day. Cash or credit?"

"Wow."

Finally, Maleficent looks up and has to ultimately blink a few times to reassure herself that her eyes have not finally been affected by her golden contacts. Saying she is shocked at what she sees is a strong word, but surprised simply doesn't cover it; the girl in front of her is just that, for starters - a girl. A waif. A tiny, pale, blonde little thing, like an angel right out of the Bible in her white sundress.

This is certainly not the type of audience places like The Moors and other tattoo shops tend to attract. In fact, these were the kinds of people Maleficent hoped would take one look inside at her shop, see the various hellish decorations Diaval had lovingly picked out, and turn tail. Mostly for the same reason Maleficent's initial shock at seeing the girl in a place like this is beginning to subside; she is staring. Wide cobalt eyes travel up Maleficent's face and focus pointedly above her head.

Of course, Maleficent knows what she is staring at. Everyone, even regulars to some degree, stares at her horns. It comes with the territory of having prosthetics screwed into one's head. Maleficent considers herself adjusted to the inevitable, though that does little to quell her anger at being gawked at like an exhibit in a sideshow.

"Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to pay your deposit?"

The girl snaps out of her rude stare with a quick shake of her head. Loose yellow curls come free from behind her ears and her cheeks redden like a pair of ripe apples. "I'm so sorry," she gushes, one hand flattening over her sternum. "I just - I've never seen anyone so beautiful in my life."

Again, Maleficent is shocked. She blinks slowly and tilts her head, watching the stranger's eyes follow her horns as she does. That was certainly the first time she had heard that particular adjective used to describe her peculiar body modification. Gross, grotesque, strange and demonic are some she is most accustomed too. And the girl seems to be sincere in her compliment. She is positively glowing, her mouth and eyes open with with admiration.

Maleficent clears her throat. It occurs to her that she should probably thank her but decides to click her teeth shut and look down at her book again. "You have to be eighteen to be tattooed here. No minors."

This makes the girl laugh. "I'm nineteen. I get that a lot." Reaching into a small bag dangling from her shoulder, the girl fishes out a gilded wallet and slips out an ID. She holds it out for the older woman to take but when she doesn't reach for it she sets it down, her smile never fading. Maleficent leans over to stare with scrutiny at the card, eyes narrowed.

"Lo," Maleficent says. "Indeed you are." Her eyes focus on the girl's name. "Aurora." Quite an aristocratic name if she's ever heard one. She casts her eyes on the young woman again and thinks that it's quite fitting, really. If ever there were such a thing as a fairy princess, this one would certainly be in the running.

"I read all about you online." Aurora's smile is so wide it's a wonder her face doesn't simply crack in half with the effort. "They say you're the best in Sun City. In the state. I've seen your work and, personally, I think you're the best in the world."

"Looks like you've got a fan, Mal." Diaval appears at Maleficent's side, resting one hand on her shoulder. That lasts for about half a second, because the woman gives it a rough shake and he backs off. "Go on, love. She'll never admit it, but she secretly loves it when people kiss her ass."

"Diaval." The man's name is spoken through clenched teeth. She turns icy eyes on him. "Make yourself useful and get the paperwork ready." Maleficent slides the ID over to him with the tip of one long nail pressed against the smiling picture of Aurora.

"Yes, ma'am." He snatches up the ID and salutes in one motion, winks at Aurora, and disappears into the other room.

"Have you ever been tattooed before?" Maleficent asks, scribbling the girl's name into her binder.

"Nope. I wanted to wait until I was old enough and out of the house to have my first piece done by you."

Maleficent is used to this kind of flattery, but her blood does not seem to want to acknowledge that this time. She uncharacteristically flushes and coughs into her fist to try and hide it, pretending to write on the paper. Without thinking about it, she begins doodling a flower.

"You know it hurts." Maleficent grinds her teeth together. What is she saying? She didn't usually try to talk anyone out of getting inked - it's her job to hurt people, and it has never bothered her before. "A lot. There are needles involved."

Aurora giggles. Straight up giggles. The kind of people Maleficent keeps in her company do not giggle, so it startles her enough to look at the girl again, eyebrows raised.

Aurora's hand hovers in front of her mouth politely. "Oh, I know. I have done a lot of research. I also know that they last forever, and there's no going back, and when I'm old and wrinkly, it'll still be there. That's why I chose you." She beams, folding her hands together in front of her. "Because I know it will be perfect."

Maleficent swallows. "What -" She clears her throat defiantly at the crack in her voice, lifts her head, and tries again. "What are you looking to get?"

Aurora steps toward the counter that separates them, resting on her bent arms. Maleficent slides one foot back in response to the proximity, staring at the bright-eyed pixie in front of her with wariness.

"A crown." Aurora reaches behind her neck and pats her back. "Right there. A very pretty crown. I wanted to leave the design up to you. It's for my mom."

"Will she be alright with this? You did say you waited until you were out of the house."

"Oh, she died."

Maleficent, yet again, turns her eyes up in surprise. This is not a common feeling for her. It is enormously unpleasant. Before she can attempt to apologize, Aurora waves her hand dismissively.

"It happened a very long time ago." There is a distinct softness in her eyes as she speaks. Maleficent understands without being told that Aurora has had to give this speech many times. "I was little. One of my most vivid memories of her is when we would play dress up. I was the princess, and she was the queen. We would wear crowns made out of construction paper." She laughs, touching her curls gently. Her eyes shift to her hands and watch a finger wind its way around a spiral of hair. "I've always thought of her that way, as a queen. She was so beautiful. I thought this would be a wonderful piece to get in her memory."

Maleficent can do nothing but nod. She is saved by Diaval's reappearance, who comes back with a flurry of paperwork. He jumps into his very well rehearsed speech on the technicalities of the procedure and legal nonsense before pulling a pen from behind his ear for Aurora to initial and sign. She pays her deposit with a crisp twenty dollar bill and Maleficent sets her up for noon a month from then. "Come back in two weeks," Maleficent advises her. "I'll have a few designs done by then. We can discuss any changes that need attending to at that time."

"Thank you so, so much, Maleficent," Aurora gushes as she walks backwards toward the door. For the upteenth time Maleficent looks over at her with perked eyebrows. Aurora was already familiar with her when she came here, but it is the first time she's heard anyone pronounce her name correctly on the first try. A tight smile collects in the corner of Maleficent's mouth that she suffocates by biting the inside of her cheek. She watches as Aurora nearly collides with a small group of regulars walking in behind her, appropriately dressed in black and riddled with tattoos. Aurora excuses herself, her grin as strong as ever, and she waves at the two still at the counter as she disappears into the sunlight. Diaval is the only one who waves back.

"Quite a spirit on that on, eh?" Diaval says, shuffling through the papers in his hands. "You don't usually tattoo virgins." It is said as a statement, but there is an unspoken question in there, a slight tilt to the end of his words that implies he's waiting for an explanation.

Maleficent does not cave. She takes the papers from his hands and looks through them herself, inspecting them closely as Diaval reluctantly turns his attention to the customers. She searches through every initial as if looking for something to point to as an answer for her own strange behavior. There is nothing but the swirly, perfect script of Aurora's handwriting.

She's about to file the paperwork away when her eyes catch on the girl's signature. Maleficent pauses, reads it again, then quickly flips to the copy Diaval had made of her ID. She had not noticed it the first time she had looked, too worried about Aurora lying about her age.

Aurora Rose Kingsley. Maleficent's eyes narrow, her fingernail digging a line under the last name. She supposes it's not all that uncommon of a surname, and with the size of Sun City, there's bound to be a couple. Maleficent files the paperwork away and goes back to her office, resuming her post and picking up her pencil again, hovering it over a new sheet of paper.

She had known a Kingsley, once upon a time.