#please i am. genuinely curious about this man and his approach to his craft PLEASE

[pettyprocrastination]

please for the love of god can an interviewer ask pedro pascal about how he gets into character or even his favorite color or quite literally ANYTHING but the daddy jokes

[mianavs]

Savior Complex

He stripped you of your lifeline but refused to let you perish

Chrollo x f!reader

a/n: some chrollo content for your enjoyment

tw: dubcon, imprisonment

wc: 2.1k

Stealing Hatsu from others was akin to eating for Chrollo Lucilfer. He did it to strengthen his abilities and spared little thought on how it affected his victims. To him, people were equivalent to puppets in that they could be used and discarded without a second thought. The only time he spared a thought for his victims was when their Hatsu disappeared from Bandit’s Secret indicating their demise. Chrollo likened it to mourning his victims despite the depravity behind the sentiment.

You were different, however, in more ways than one.

There was no other way to put it—you were a genius nen user. Without any formal training, you developed your ability to manipulate the minds of others. While other geniuses profited off their Hatsu and used it to rise the ranks of society, you were trapped by yours and used it strictly for survival. Bought by a Mafia boss at a young age, you practiced your ‘gift’ on anyone your master sent.

Everything changed when a new esteemed client of your master’s walked into your workshop. Chrollo’s original target had been your master’s rare treasures but, after hearing about your gift, he altered his plan and included your Hatsu. It was a riskier plan, showing up in person for a session, but to Chrollo your ability was worth it.

The first thing that caught his attention was the cold emptiness of the room. Concrete walls, harsh fluorescent lighting, and the smell of disinfectant and death pervaded the small room. You sat on one of the chairs in the center with two armed men on either side. You were a frail young woman in a dirty white gown and with equally dirty hair that lie atop your head in a tangled mess. You were obviously malnourished judging from your sunken cheeks, bony wrists, and knobby knees. The most damning evidence of your mistreatment, however, had to be the leather shackle around your ankle that was connected to a large chain and attached to the wall.

In spite of your dreadful conditions, you rose from your seat with the grace of a newborn deer and greeted Chrollo with a bright smile that caught him off-guard.

“Welcome Dearest Client and please take a seat.”

Chrollo was convinced your lilting voice could soothe a raging beast as he unconsciously lowered his guard and sat down in front of you. Warmth dripped from your eyes as they traversed Chrollo’s face while yours radiated a child-like innocence as you started to explain the process.

“I will look into your eyes for a minute to search your mind for emotions I can use to create your fantasy. Is that alright, Dear Client?”

“Of course, Miss—I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name.”

Your eyes widened at the word ‘name’ while the men behind you shifted uncomfortably. “Um…name? I-I don’t know what—”

“What do other’s call you?” Chrollo interrupted.

“Oh! Then I guess I have multiple names. I’m called ‘You’, ‘Witch’, and ‘Woman’ so please pick whatever you prefer.” You stated and Chrollo started to assess your character and the situation you were in.

“I’ll stick with Miss for now,” he declared before initiating Skill Hunter. “Now, can you tell me a little bit about your gift?”

“Of course,” You were completely oblivious to the growing tension that radiated from your guards and started your explanation. “My creations all take place in the client’s mind but I am always present. They are crafted around positive emotions or memories that I find.”

“So these fantasies are all positive?” Chrollo’s voice successfully masked his disappointment.

“Yes,” you replied fondly. “I use my gift to make other’s happy even if it’s only temporary.”

“Oh…and how long do they usually last?”

“At first, I could only last a couple of minutes but after making a vow, I was able to create fantasies that lasted up to three hours.”

“And what vow is that?” Chrollo asked, genuinely curious.

“Loss of my sight if I ever stopped using my gift. My eyes have no purpose if I can’t use them to search people’s minds and create fantasies for them.” Your smile dimmed as you uttered those words while something akin to pity stirred inside Chrollo; however, it wasn’t enough to spare you.

“What a beautiful sentiment,” Chrollo’s honeyed compliment warmed your heart and your smile brightened once more. “Shall we begin?”

Unlike most of client’s you dealt with, Chrollo’s positive memories and emotions revolved around a group of people instead of jewelry, money, fame. Instead of the luxurious mansions, clear skies, and sandy beaches you normally created the setting of Chrollo’s fantasy was a junkyard city.

You distanced yourself from the client as you usually did and watched from afar. Chrollo greeted each and everyone of the group members but tears welled up in his eyes when a large muscular man approached him.

You panicked at the sight of tears until you felt a wave of happiness from Chrollo and your worries faded away. For you, these moments were priceless and made you forget the pain in your stomach or the weariness in your bones. Seeing your clients happy negated any unpleasant emotions you held against your master and gave your life meaning.

Other clients merely forgot about your existence or purposefully ignored you but Chrollo surprised you by seeking you out.

Where are you? I want you to meet my family.

A strange warmth settled in your stomach at Chrollo’s request and you emerged from your hiding spot. You approached him hesitantly until he reached his hand out causing you to freeze in shock.

“Is there something wrong?” Chrollo asked, confusion written all over his face.

“I-I don’t know. Client’s usually don’t want to see me…why do you?”

“I want to share some of my happiness with you. Is that wrong?” Chrollo’s smile dazzled you and before you realized it, hot tears prickled your eyes.

“T-thank you,” you cried. “N-no one has ever done s-something like this f-for me.”

You accepted Chrollo’s hand and interacted with his family as if the fantasy were real. After delving into Chrollo’s mind some more, you learned that the muscular man was actually deceased and focused on perfecting him for your client.

Like always, you wished your fantasies could last forever along with your client’s happiness but it was an impossible desire and your masterpiece started to crumble. The flaming red sky of the junkyard city turned to fuchsia, then pink, until it became a white void. One by one, the group members disappeared as well until Uvogin was the only one left. He bid Chrollo farewell with a toothy grin on his face before he too became one with the white void.

“I see it’s time to return.” Chrollo commented staring into the white void that was once his beloved city.

“Yes, I’m sorry it ended so soon.” You answered, lowering your head.

Suddenly, Chrollo’s hand grabbed your chin and you met his eyes full of emotions that went beyond your comprehension. “No, Miss, it is I who is sorry.”

You wanted to ask what he meant but your fantasy dissipated into nothing and you were kicked out of Chrollo’s mind.

Your eyes fluttered open to blood splattered walls and your hand lying on an old book held by Chrollo. Everything had gone according to plan and the spiders eliminated everyone in the building including your owner. As the Phantom Troupe hauled out the treasures located in the bunker, Chrollo regained consciousness and fulfilled the last condition of Skill Hunter.

“What…happened?” Your eyes widened in horror when they landed on your fallen guards lying in a pool of their own blood. “H-how?!”

Chrollo watched as you whipped your head around for help only to be met with silence. Your seemingly constant smile was long gone replaced with a horror-stricken face Chrollo was used to seeing on his victims—but you were no ordinary victim.

You trembled as you watched the old book in Chrollo’s hands disappear and darted to your feet in an attempt to run away only to collapse on the ground when your chain extended its entire length.

Teary-eyed, you looked up at Chrollo who decided he never wanted to see that terrified expression on your face ever again. He softened his own face as he crouched down next to you and dried your tears with his thumbs. Confusion replaced fear on your weary face and Chrollo sighed in relief knowing it would be easier to dispel confusion as opposed to fear.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” Chrollo apologized, before knocking you out in a fraction of a second. “But I’ll take care of you now.”

When you woke up to the black void that was your vision, a broken wail erupted from your chest that alarmed various voices in the room. You flailed your arms in front of you to see if you could at least make out their outline but it was to no avail. With your vision gone, the gravity of your situation pumped adrenaline to your limbs causing you to scramble to your knees and crawl on the bed only to fall out of it and onto the cold floor.

“Hey!”

“Are you okay?”

“Get the boss!”

The shoulder you landed on throbbed painfully but the ringing in your head from listening to disembodied voices you didn’t recognize was worse. Curling up into a ball, you clamped your hands onto your ears to cancel out the harsh noise but it was to no avail. A plethora of negative thoughts filled your mind only to be dispelled by a familiar soothing voice that overpowered all noise.

“Dearest Client?” You uncovered you ears and uncurled your body only to hit your shoulder on the ground once again causing you to hiss in pain. Warm hands gently lifted you up and you jerked from the sudden movement.

“Shhh it’s alright, Miss. My name is Chrollo Lucilfer and I’ll be making you happy from now on.”

“B-but my sight…my gift—” The soft bed surprised you as he sat you down on the edge. “W-what are you—”

His hands cupped both cheeks and turned your head forward. “I’m sorry about your gift but I promise I’ll use it well.”

“W-what…how did…I-I don’t—”

“Stay still for me…please.” You were captivated by the gentle firmness of his voice and did as he asked.

When the meaning behind his words hit, you wondered if your gift would even work in your current state. Before you could voice your doubts, however, the darkness that enveloped you turned lighter and lighter until it was a white void you would recognize anywhere. Splashes of color materialized until they formed your last creation—the junkyard city.

“This…made you happy?”

Seeing Chrollo again made your heart swell and you ran to him wanting nothing more than to see his features up close.  You took in his disheveled black hair, pale skin, and pools of grey and teared up from simply being able to see another person once again. Raising your hand, you touched his cheek and gasped from how real it felt being on the receiving end of the fantasy.

“Amazing…I-I can’t bel—”

Chrollo’s hand shot out and pulled you into his chest while his arms wrapped around your frail form possessively. His scent and warmth assaulted your senses making your head spin but Chrollo only tightened his hold pressing against your skin harshly. Overwhelmed by the sensations pulsating through your body, you clung to Chrollo not knowing what else to do.

“You’re mine now,” his voice rumbled against the sensitive skin of your neck. “I’ll be your eyes from now on.”

A chill ran up your spine as Chrollo’s mouth trailed kisses up your neck to your mouth. An uncomfortable knot started to build in your stomach as his tongue probed your mouth and pressed against yours. You gave Chrollo free reign over your body not because you reciprocated his desire but because you didn’t know any better.

Your entire existence revolved around pleasing others, so when your tainted fantasy ends and you return to your dark reality; you learn to accept your new role. Moving forward whenever Chrollo visits your room, you continue to let him do whatever he wants to your body by convincing yourself that it’s his happiness that is most important. So when he leaves you naked and trembling with a dull ache between your legs, your mind does what it has always done best—it makes things up to help you cope with your miserable life.

[dreamkidddream]

I really enjoyed your writing on the ADA members with a younger sibling like partner <33 I was wondering if you could write the same scenario but with Chuuya and Fyodor? Except the younger partner in question has a rough past and cheery/joking personality similar to Dazai(?) I'm super excited to see more of your writing!! c:

Hi anon! Thank you for the compliment and for reading (here’s the scenario for those that want to read it)! The only difference is that instead of this reader being pure, they’re going to be like a mini Dazai (or at least similar to him). One change that I did make was that Reader isn’t as suicidal as Dazai (ie. constantly trying to find a way to end their life), but Reader is ready to go whenever and wherever, whether it’s on their terms or not. Reader is gender neutral and hope you enjoy!

Also ayyyeeee my first time writing for Fyodor! Hope I did him justice cause his part took a while lol

TW: Mentions of suicide, dark moments (Reader is a bit sadistic, but nothing graphic is mentioned) small spoilers for Dark Era arc and Season 3

Acting as a Younger Sibling with a Rough Past and Personality Similar to Dazai with: Chuuya and Fyodor

Chuuya

Well he was extremely disturbed to say the least. Okay extremely may be over exaggerating, but the way you acted got underneath his skin bad

You reminded him too much of Dazai, minus the suicide attempts and the animosity towards him. Although that didn’t stop the morbid jokes from happening

“Hey Chu-Chu, what did the librarian say to the guy that wanted to check out a book on how to commit suicide?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that!-“

“Go away, you’re not going to bring it back. HA! A knee slapper, am I right?”

He wondered if Dazai got to you first like he did Akutagawa, and if he did, that was just another reason to strangle him

You were his partner, and you were young. So seeing the way you interacted with everyone and everything with such a pessimistic attitude while still being cheery was alarming

Not to mention how easy it is for you to just readily accept death at every turn. You’re the literal embodiment of “guess I’ll die” and it drives Chuuya up the wall every time

He remembers the one time an enemy held you hostage how you were so cheerful to finally be rid of this joke you called a life, and that you told the guy who was holding a gun to your head to “put it between the eyes, it looks 10x better that way.” And “don’t be afraid to blow my brains out either! But you do you, but I think it’s a rather stylistic choice if I do say so myself.”

The man thought you were trying to distract him at first, but when he figured out that you were serious he honestly got so nervous he was ready to just let you go and suggest therapy lmao

After he handled the situation, he took you directly under his wing. Sure, you were already his partner, but he was really going to look out for you including outside of work. If it meant that he had to “babysit” you, then oh well

Plus he didn’t want to face Mori if he just let you die while under his care

You realized what he was trying to do when you two would go off to “collect information” and would be doing the complete opposite. “Hey, I’m kinda hungry, let’s take a break and grab a bite to eat.”

“I thought we had to get this info back to Mori ASAP. Not that I care if he’s mad, he’s been holding out on me and this is the perfect way to take revenge.”

“Holding out how?”

“I told him that since he’s a doctor he would be the perfect teacher to show me some new techniques.”

“...on?”

“Torturing, duh! My methods are getting kinda stale, and I do want to perfect my craft after all. I want to be good at something before I kick the bucket, Chu.”

Poor man is honestly in so much distress because of you please help him

And the way you interacted with the other members was both entertaining and horrifying to watch at times. Majority of the time, you were this happy go lucky kid with a dark sense of humor (you still made people smile, although sometimes it was tense or apprehensive, but whatever a smile is still a smile). But when you were having a bad day or a mission was going wrong, everyone knew to steer clear of you.

A new recruit tried to cheer you up one day, telling you that “it could always be worse”. You then got pulled into the office with a very angry Chuuya and a mildly disappointed Mori.

Chuuya finally had enough after months of this occurred. It was like a never ending cycle: except your behavior was getting increasingly more reckless and dangerous. It was driving him crazy trying to figure out why you were this way and if it was any way to snap you out of it

He wasn’t a stranger to death, he’s seen it with his own two eyes, end even killed people with his bare hands. But the huge difference between you two is that he didn’t particularly enjoy killing, if it had to be done then he had no problems doing so; it comes with the job y’know? But with you, you took actual pleasure in killing. It filled you with a sick sense of glee, and it even made his stomach turn

The bond between you two grew from just a typical work relationship (as far as working in the mafia goes). He knew that from underneath your rather concerning persona, you were just troubled. Someone or something made you this way, and while he had his own troubles growing up, he was able to deal with it and overcome his issues. It just seemed like you just...gave in to yours. And it made him feel pity for you.

You didn’t mind Chuuya at all. You actually liked being his partner! He was pretty much the only person that you didn’t feel a need to harm or kill. And he was fun to be around, when he wasn’t being such a party pooper (I mean what’s the point of being in the mafia when you can’t purposely spill some blood every now and then for fun?). The only thing you didn’t like was how he would try and get you to talk about your past. You honestly didn’t see a point in it, it’s called the past for a reason, why didn’t he understand that?!

But no matter how many times you would shut down or try to change the subject, he would always try again, and again, and again. It was very annoying. And you didn’t like to talk about it. Why didn’t Chuuya understand that?!

Eventually, his pestering worked. One day after a rough mission when he had to patch you up, you opened up to him. You didn’t immediately tell him everything, but you gave him small insights to what happened, to what lead you to be this way

You could tell that he was grateful that he was finally getting somewhere with you. And you yourself was surprised that your dynamic didn’t change. He didn’t look at you with sympathy in his eyes, he didn’t baby you, he wasn’t disgusted by you, everything was normal. The only difference is that Chuuya told you that it was okay to talk to him, and that you shouldn’t be scared to approach him (psh you scared, yeah okay)

Chuuya felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders once you opened up. You were still a bit sadistic (but you did tone it back after the recruit incident, and after you saw how repulsed he looked, so you just did everything behind closed doors now) and had your cheery persona on, but it felt a little bit more real now. It felt genuine. It gave him a good feeling to see some spark in your eyes instead of the full he felt himself getting used to. And he would never say it to you, but it also gave him a warm feeling with him being your role model (you knew but didn’t want to burst his bubble yet)

Your change wasn’t very noticeable at first, but that’s okay. No one needed to know, it was fine with just you and Chuuya. You still felt the desire to just be done with life, but it wasn’t your focus whenever you were with him. You hadn’t made peace with your past yet, but you felt you could one day with him by your side. He was someone that you didn’t knew you needed (or wanted to admit to), but it worked out in the end. You had doubts that you could or would ever change, but if you did, growing to be someone like Chuuya would’nt be the worst possible outcome

Plus, whenever he did run into Dazai with his new sidekick, he is 10000% bragging about how much better and cooler you are, with him being the superior between them both. He can’t WAIT till you guys can whoop their ass

Fyodor

Well weren’t you such an interesting character

To see someone as young as you ready to just leave this world in an abrupt way was intriguing, and he realized that he could use this to his advantage. Maybe even give you something to gain in exchange

He found you hiding inside a disgusting abandoned building (a fitting place for a rat if he would say so himself), drenched in blood. Fyodor didn’t necessarily care why, but he was curious about one thing: why were you smiling? Your eyes were so lifeless, yet here you were smiling so bright, as if you weren’t covered in someone’s blood

Fyodor found himself smiling down at you. Did you think he was prey, that he was going to be your next target? He wanted you to try, he wanted to see what you were really capable of

“Tell me, what is going to be your next move? Do you wish to attack me?”

“If you do something that I don’t like, then yes, that’s the plan. Why are you here Mister? You wanna have some fun too?”, your smile turned into a smirk, twirling your very sharp knife in your hand. “You’re not even from here, so why are you trying to bother such an innocent kid like me?”

He matched your smirk, “You are from innocent, child, even a blind man can see that. To see just how full of sin you are. This wasn’t your first atrocity that you committed nor would it be your last. Which is a shame, it might be too late for me to cleanse you of your filth.”

Oh, he was going to be very amusing to mess with. But you weren’t stupid. Something wasn’t right with this man. No one would walk up to someone with copious amounts of blood on them, holding a weapon that caused said blood, while berating them about being “full of sin”. What was his ability? Did he have people with him? Was the building surrounded or booby trapped? These questions swirled around your head, all while he just kept smirking at you. He was pissing you off, who the hell did he think he was?

But you kept your anger at bay, plastering a cheerful smile on your face. “Sin? Cleanse me of my filth? I guess I do kinda stink but who exactly do you think you are, some type of God?”

“That’s exactly what I am. I’m here to free this world from this wretched curse that has been brought upon.”

...huh? Did-did he escape from the asylum or something? Did he seriously believe himself to be a God (not even a prophet but an actual God)? Seeing your confusion, he continued on, “The curse of ability users. They plague this Earth, and they need to be eliminated.”

“Why is that? What’s wrong with having abilities? Hellooooo, some people’s abilities are actually pretty cool! If you just have a terrible ability, it’s your problem, not the world-“

“Why not let me show you why it’s indeed a curse?”

“And how would you do that? You must be crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you. I may be dangerous but I’m not dumb!”

“You poor, misguided soul.”, he tutted at you. “Look at where you have ended up at. These people with these so called “cool abilities” have failed you, have they not? Yet you still idolize them, not believing that they are the reason for your misfortunes. If they were truly your idols, they wouldn’t have left you to fend for yourself, to live among the rats. They left you to rot, do you not see that?”

He was hitting too close to home, he was getting too personal, too close. He didn’t know you at all, you’re a complete stranger to him, but why did his words hold some truth to them?

“Come with me, and I will prove to you first hand why this has to be done.”, he was now physically close to you, staring you deep into your eyes. “It would be such a waste for you to die without knowing the truth, wouldn’t you agree?”

You didn’t have much, he wasn’t wrong. But if he could take you somewhere with real food and not scraps you had to fight to find, and to have real shelter, then fine. You agreed. And if you felt that something was up, you’ll just kill him, run away, or both

After he took you away, he kept to his word. It seemed like he was really was telling the truth, you getting first-hand experience like he promised. It was scary that he was right, but you were also indebted to him. He not only allowed you to live in luxury (at least it was luxury to you considering what you had before), but he opened your eyes to what the true problem is. He gave your life a new purpose. If you two were able to successfully complete his goal, then your problems would be gone forever right? You would finally be able to feel a sense of peace, and you can’t wait till that could happen

You and Fyodor, after he opened your eyes, bonded easier than in the beginning. You were smart enough to not fully trust him after leaving with him, but after just a couple of pulled strings to cause certain things to happen, you slowly melted and molded into the way that he planned. You would be an excellent pawn in his grand plan, and you would do well in keeping him entertained at the same time

You were a joyful child, even when carrying out his dirty work, you did so gleefully. After joining the Rats in the House of the Dead, you tried to spread that joy among the other members. They didn’t find it very amusing, but you didn’t care and neither did Fyodor. You were far too important to let go of now

You were always by him, it seemed. Always in the same space, whether he was planning his next move, and playing the cello, you were always there with this look of awe directed at him. Every time he would catch you staring, he would simply chuckle and softly reprimand you about, “how rude it is to stare, but you simply can’t help it.”

He even taught you how to play the cello!

You sounded terrible but practice makes perfect

As time went on and the end goal seeming to be closing in, he came to see you as more than just an expendable tool. He found out about your past, but simply proved to you once again why you two had to make sure the curse was ridden as soon as possible. No one wanted a repeat of what happened to you to happen to anyone else, so the mission had to be success. Failure was not an option

Fyodor didn’t see himself as a cruel man towards you. He just didn’t mince his words and he made sure that you were dealing with the truth, and not some lie that was attempted to be twisted as reality. If anything, that was the way that he showed that he held some compassion for you, he wasn’t willing to let you be lead astray from the truth again, not while he was here. You had somehow wiggled your way into his mind, where he had been accepting of your close bond, and he took that into consideration

Once his goal is achieved and he has truly made his place known as a God, he’ll make sure that you gain your rightful place among him as well. You were worthy in Fyodor’s eyes, and as long as nothing came in between your bond and the end goal, then everything will work out. He will make sure of that.

[bailey-reaper]

Can you write about Iris hanging out with the ghost of her father? It’s sad these two never got to know each other in canon.

Apologetic Apparition

Notes: It's very sad that the story unfolds as it does and that we know so little about Klint or Lady B (it's an utter travesty that Capcom couldn't even be bothered to give her a name or some sketches in the artbooks). Perhaps if we'd gotten to see more of Iris's parents, it would have given us an idea of what they'd have been like as a family...

Content Warnings: angst; GAA spoilers

"Well here we are!" Iris announced proudly as she took off her welding goggles and looked down at her latest creation, "They're finished at long last, now I only need to test them to make sure they work!"

"I say, Iris, you've been busy at that crafting table of yours for some time," Herlock observed as he reclined on the chaise lounge in the centre of the room and propped his legs up on the fortified, locked trunk that acted as their coffee table, "What have you been up to, dear girl?"

She twirled around in her spinning chair so she could regard her roommate, "I've made something quite marvelous this time, Hurley!" in her hands were a pair of goggles.

"Goggles?" they hardly seemed 'marvelous', but he knew better than to assume such things; after all, one cannot judge a book by its cover, for to do so is to ignore the richness that lies within, "And what is special about this particular pair?"

"They should, if I've calibrated them correctly, give me the ability to see the lingering remnants of the deceased!"

"Oh ho! So you've crafted glasses that will enable you to see ghosts, have you? Quite an interesting idea, dear girl! Whatever inspired you to do such a thing?"

Iris fell silent for a few moments, then offered a small smile, "Oh... just a little personal project. I should very much like to test them! Could you possibly do me a favour, Hurley?" she tilted her head and looked at him with pleading eyes.

"...." how could he resist the dear girl's plea? Iris was the only person he truly considered family (of course his partner occupied a place that was quasi-familial, but it was an entirely different beast). With a fond smile, he held open his arms and nodded, "Of course, what can I do for you?"

Her reply was not what he had expected...

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

It was the dead of night, and they were crouched outside the imposing building where agents of the crown worked tirelessly to bring wrongdoers to justice –- or, the Prosecutor's Office by any other name. Hurley had his reservations when Iris told him where she wanted to go, but he also had a pretty good idea of where in the office she wanted to go and why.

He would not question it, this was something the dear girl needed to do.

After he had infiltrated the building and obtained a set of security guard clothes, he set about on a mock patrol of the premises; taking note of the number of other fellows currently present and making a few educated guesses with regards to their routes. It would be easy enough to smuggle the young girl inside if he did so swiftly and via the western exit.

It was as easy as he'd anticipated to bring her inside, "Right," he said softly, "Where are we heading?" despite already knowing, he would play the fool for now.

"Um... Hurley... would you mind if I went inside on my own?" she asked gently as they walked down a long corridor with numerous doors and plaques beside them. They had come to a stop outside one particularly imposing, nigh-medieval door; with a plaque that read: [Lord Barok van Zieks].

Sholmes smiled, "Of course... just knock on the door three times when you are finished, alright? I shall knock similarly if I sense danger. You must come with me without delay if I knock, alright?"

Iris nodded.

Then, she turned to the door and opened it with a key that Herlock had taken from the security guard's office. Stepping inside was a daunting prospect -- Mr. Reaper's Office was as imposing as him, perhaps more so in the dead of night with nothing but the moonlight spilling in through the large arched windows along the far wall. After taking a deep breath, she donned the goggles and activated them.

At first, nothing happened and she started to fret that maybe her calculations had been off and that she ought to have tested them somewhere more accessible before embarking on this particular visit-- then, she caught some faint glowing traces in the air.

She looked around the room and found a glowing figure stood with its back to her, looking up at the large portrait that took pride of place overlooking the office. It was difficult to tell anything about the form, save for that it was humanoid in shape.

"Why do you insist on keeping this portrait here, brother?" the figure said, in a voice that she discerned to be a male one, "Surely you ought to have had one of your own commissioned by now?"

"Um... excuse me? You there, by the portrait."

She'd never seen a ghost jump before, but this one certainly did twirl around with a start. As he turned, the form seemed to take a clearer shape and she realised he was the same as the man in the portrait – Klint van Zieks.

It was her father, just as she'd hoped.

"Goodness! You gave me quite the fright, young lady."

"Oh... I'm sorry," she looked down bashfully, only to be surprised when he laughed heartily.

"No, no, don't be! I'm simply surprised you can see me..." he cocked his head to the side, arms folded, "Might it be that curious apparatus you're wearing that enables you to see and hear me? No one else seems to..." she nodded, "Ah, I see... Pray, do forgive my presumptuousness, but, you remind me a great deal of my darling wife... I cannot think that is a mere coincidence."

It made her heart shiver to hear that, "... Um... yes, well, that would be my mother, sir, and you.. you are..."

"Then I'm... your father," Klint breathed, eyes wide, "Oh... So you are our sweet little starling..." for a moment he looked off to the side, smiling almost wistfully, "... Truly, you are a good man Genshin..." then he returned his focus to the girl, "Would you tell me your name, child?"

"Iris, sir, Iris Wilson..."

"Iris," he said, "A lovely name, very befitting of such a charming young lady. And, well, it seems you already know who I am..."

"Yes... I do," she knew full well, "I... I have so many things I want to ask you about..."

Klint nodded and walked over to the desk that had once been his and was now the place where his brother spent most of his time in stony silence, deeply engrossed in his work. He sat on it, legs dangling over the edge, "I'm sure you must have, I will try to answer to the best of my ability."

"... Thank you," she took a seat at the table that was currently home to the beginnings of a new diorama, presumably Mr. Reaper's latest case. For a few moments, she fell silent: her mind had gone blank. There were so many questions, but how to pick out just one? Where to begin?

"Perhaps I might start?" he offered, having clearly picked up on her overwhelmed state of mind. When she nodded, he started:

"As you know, my name is Klint van Zieks, I was born in North Devon. You've already met my little brother, Barok, your uncle, and much like you... he suffers a certain wistfulness when it comes to matters of family. It seems I've left you both somewhat at a loss. Do forgive me, Iris, I never intended to cause either of you the turmoil I have. I had always thought that keeping the truth from the two of you might spare you the embarrassment and stigma that knowing who I was would bring..."

She listened quietly, studying his face as he spoke. It was clear that his words were earnest, judging by their tone and the look of genuine remorse on his face.

"... I committed several heinous acts in life, and though I thought it was the right thing to do... it was misguided and naive. I sought to solve a problem by fighting fire with fire, but such an approach can only result in a destructive end. It cost me everything – including your mother, my darling wife... I was so thrilled when she told me she was pregnant, but at the same time I was terrified of what impact it might have had on her were I to tell her the truth. I did not want her or our unborn child to suffer... in the end, she died during childbirth. I cannot help but wonder if things would have been different if we'd been together in the family home with the necessary staff on hand to help her... I suppose I'll never know."

At some point as he spoke, tears had begun to bead in her eyes; then they spilled as she thought of the mother she would never know and the father who had tried to protect them – albeit with a limited degree of success.

"My apologies are meaningless, but I would like you to know how sorry I am for my failings as a man and a father, and the impact that has had on you, Iris... Your mother and I... we were delighted by the prospect of having a family, and I couldn't be more proud to see you before me as radiant as she was. You are so very like her..."

"... Thank you... I--"

Suddenly there were three sharp knocks on the door.

Iris covered her mouth, "Oh! I'm so sorry... I have to go!"

"Mmm," he nodded, "I understand, this office isn't the best place for a reunion... would you mind if I came to visit you at some point, so that you can ask me the questions you wished to?"

"... Yes, I would like that... please do come and visit me, I should like to get to know my father better -- not The Professor."

Klint blinked, then stood up from his perch and bowed, "As you wish..."

[thetaylorfiles]

I am genuinely curious about the continued use of the WB pseudonym after she has already revealed who it is. That’s what make me super skeptical and think that Joe’s contributions to the albums are either exaggerated or a straight up lie. If he had this extraordinary musical talent, we would have known about it before two weeks ago, because he would have leveraged it before now. Double and triple threats get all the jobs, and before he was linked to her, he wasn’t even known as a particularly good actor. I know there is an inclination to take everything she says at face value, but I don’t think that’s a healthy approach. It’s not that outrageous to think that she lies to her fans every once in a while, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing either.

Okay, I haven’t even gotten through your ask ans already I can say: BULLSHIT.

“Before he was linked to her he wasn’t known as a good actor”

See, this is where your lack of knowledge about the entertainment/film industry is showing.

Ang Lee hired him out of thousands, straight out of drama school, to STAR in his movie. Are you even remotely aware of Ang Lee’s reputation as a director? The fact that that acclaimed if a director chose Hoe Alwyn to star in “Billy Lynn’s” is fucking HUGE. And that was long before Joe had ever heard of Taylor.

Secondly, he doesn’t have extraordinary music talent. He can play the piano really well. So can I. So can a ton of people I know. We all took lessons as a kid. Generally speaking, a lot of actors tend to be creative and into music as well. Or vice versa, musicians want to act. It’s pretty well known through the ages. They’re “creatives”.

However, why the hell would we have supposedly known anout Joe’s ability to play the piano before now?! That’s just ludicrous.

The man is an up and comer. He’s building a very, very specific career. Again, you’d know this if you were in tune with the film industry. Not your fault that you’re not. But I am and so are some other people so I can be backed up on this.

He’s not looking for a big time, triple threat leading man career right out the gate. He’s looking to be a serious actor who’s taken seriously by top tier directors and cast in top tier films that get nominated for Academy Awards.

He’s taken very small roles in prestige films instead of splashing out and making a big tabloid name for himself which he could do quite easily. You think the minute he and Taylor became a thing he didn’t have myriad scripts being thrown at him to be the lead in either cheesy rom coms or scary movies with several million dollar paychecks attached? Because it happened.

Instead he turned all that shit down and chose smaller, meatier roles in films that were alongside brilliant actors known for their talent in movies made by acclaimed directors.

Now tell me how being known as a guy who plays piano fits in there? No one has said he can sing. Not Taylor. Maybe he can carry a tune, I don’t know. Maybe not. But why exactly would he want to be known as a piano player in films like these?

And apparently he can craft a chorus. And he can help write some lyrics. He’s smart and graduated with a degree in English lit. It can’t be that hard for an articulate person to help Taylor and Justin fucking Vernon help write a song. No one said he wrote the whole damn thing. They’re the musical geniuses. Not him.

Also, don’t forget. We’ve all been in quarantine together. They have too. Little known things that weren’t front and center before are leaking out because there’s nothing to fucking do. So the dude sits and plays a piano more often during quarantine. Shocking.

There’s just nothing at all out of the ordinary about this to me. Not a goddamn thing.

You seem to think there is. So please enlighten me. If Joe is not William Bowery, then who is? And why is Taylor lying?

And yeah, anon, I get it. Not everything Taylor says is the truth. I’m well aware. Of COURSE she lies sometimes. We all do. And she has more to protect and hide.

But on this? I just don’t see the point. So please, enlighten me.

[rosyredlipstick]

conchell farmers market AU

i went to a farmers market last weekend. thank u rina for looking this over!

The wind was cool, the birds were chirping, and Sebastian was yet again attempting to sneak off with the honey boy. 

“It’s legally required that I receive a break, Mitchell. And what I do on my government-mandated fifteen minutes off is frankly none of your business.”

He was just barely resisting the urge to pinch at his nose. “Sebastian, the day that you actually manage to keep your business your business is that day hell freezes over. All I’m asking is that when you lure Basil away, you don’t bring him back here so you guys can try and make out behind the curtains. No one wants that!”

Sebastian busied himself with ignoring Mitchell and looking over their main table of pre-packaged chocolate truffles. He picked one up, looked it over, and set it back down. 

Mitchell rolled his eyes and leaned back into his chair with a sigh. “Also, I’m pretty sure Mother would frown on you trading her chocolate away just so you could flirt with some guy.”

Sebastian was still examining the numerous paper boxes. “She’d more than approve if she saw the honey guy.”

Their apartment pantry was already so, so incredibly full of small glass pots. “Please,” Mitchell said with pain. “Just give him the chocolate for free. We don’t need to keep buying out the farmer’s market.” 

Sebastian snorted, “That’s ironic for you to say.” 

Mitchell cocked his head to the side, “What do you mean?” 

“Our kitchen currently has like, 3 different kinds of melon on the counter. And don’t get me started on the apple situation.” 

“And? We eat a lot of fruit.”

Sebastian gave him a dull look. “Whatever, Mitch,” He picked up a box, gave it a glance, and apparently found it exceptional enough. “Be back in fifteen, dork.”

“At least go talk to Silena!” Mitchell sighed and watched, only half-worried, as Seb wandered across the curved road to stop at the honey stand, where Basil and Sage were set up. Seb always swore it wasn’t even an ounce serious for either of them, but Mitchell kept his eyes on the situation. 

He busied himself with straightening up the boxes and making sure the cooler cases were still cold enough to prevent melting. One customer later (who bought an array of white chocolate mint truffles), and Mitchell’s customer grin thawed out into something a lot more genuine. “Connor!” Mitchell waved at the other man as he approached. “It was getting late, I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.” 

“Hey,” Connor was breathless, probably from his jog over here. “I - I mean, I couldn’t not stop by. My favorite booth here.” 

Behind him, Katie and Grover’s veggie stand had a line wrapped around several booths. Leo, manning a vegan taco booth that said line looped around, was joyfully handing off cartons and cartons of tacos to waiting vegetable customers. 

Connor waved off the huge line without a worry. “Katie said I could take a break. Travis is there anyway.” 

Mitchell smiled up at him. “Got anything good for me?”

“Fresh watermelon!” Connor said quickly. “It’s really sweet! I can get you one? Or two, I mean, however many you want! No worries, I’ll cover the costs  -” 

“I’d love a watermelon,” Mitchell smiled. “Just one, though. And I’d be happy to pay.” 

“Of course,” He breathed out. “Anything for you.” 

Mitchell huffed out a laugh.“How’d your mom like the last batch? I know you were iffy on the cinnamon coconut ones.” 

“Loved them, of course.” Connor sighed dreamily, gazing up at Mitchell. “She always loves what you give her.” 

Mitchell smiled at his folded hands for a moment, then looked back up to him. “That’s always nice to hear. So what can I do for you?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Um, actually I’m not here to get her some chocolate.”

Mitchell gave him a little surprised laugh. “Really? That’s the first time in weeks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Connor laughed awkwardly, “Yeah. So. I’m here for something else. Um. I want to ask you -” He cut himself off and stared down at Mitchell, who was waiting patiently. Mitchell nodded for him to go on, curious. Connor let out a dejected breath and leaned against the side of the booth. “On second thought, I was wondering if you’d just get me a large variety box.”

Mitchell stood with a small smile. “Of course. Anything special?”

Connor made a gesture of frustration at the air, looking more directed at himself. “Just - anything! Thank you!

Mitchell hummed as he began packaging up a box. “Got a hot date?” 

“Ha,” Connor let out a much-too-loud laugh. He rubbed the back of his head. “Nope! No dates! Because I’m single. Ha. So very single.” 

“God, same,” Mitchell laughed softly. He finished up packaging the chocolates and set it between them, not reaching for the money box just yet. Connor always liked to linger and chat, not that Mitchell minded. 

Connor’s jeans were dusted in dirt and soaked the bottom with mud. It was a good look on him--farmer’s tan and all. Mitchell smiled. “Katie keeping you busy?” 

Connor looked over his shoulder, almost checking the other girl wasn’t there, then back to Mitchell with a look of exhaustion. “She had us up at 5 a.m. because she needed help with some last-minute washing and separating. I’m ready to fall over and it’s hardly passed noon.” 

“You’re tired?” Connor nodded, showing it. Mitchell perked up with a quick “Oh!” and spun around to reach for one of their newer products and pulled one out. “You know that collaboration with Nico we were considering?” He plated the treat with a flourish. “Here’s the first batch! Some fresh coffee chocolates, he’s selling some at his booth too! I think we might try some different combinations next week. He wants to try an espresso one?” He rolled forward on his toes excitedly. “I think it’s going to turn out well!” 

Connor lit up with excitement with him. “That’s great! God, I know how nervous you were about the testing phase.”

Mitchell nodded with a wide grin. For a moment, Connor almost looked starstruck. An idea occurred to him, as Connor stepped forward. 

“Here, try this.” He held the plate out of Connor’s reach. “So you can have the whole experience.” Mitchell gestured for him to lean forward. Connor did so automatically. “Close your eyes,” Mitchell instructed, “and open your mouth.” 

Connor’s gaze snapped to Mitchell’s, wide-eyed. 

“It’s the experience!” Mitchell grinned. “C’mon, try it.” 

Connor licked his lips but slowly nodded, looking breathless. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, his elbows on the stall. 

Mitchell spooned a chocolate into Connor’s waiting mouth. He took it and chewed slowly, his eyes still fluttered shut. 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Mitchell asked, “You just really focus on the taste that way.”

A soft pink bloomed across Connor’s cheeks. He continued to chew, staring at Mitchell with wide-eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed out, swaying slightly. “You… amazing.” 

“I knew you’d like it.” Mitchell smiled, a bit satisfied. “Coffee chocolates, isn’t that fun?” 

“So fun,” Connor whispered. 

Mitchell was about to add on something else about their new flavors when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother returning to the stall. With a companion. Mitchell sighed. 

Sebastian finished wandering back over to the stall, Basil tucked under his arm like he needed assistance back to their booth. Unfortunately, Mitchell could already spy a handful of reddening marks on both of their necks. 

“Hey honey boy,” Mitchell greeted wryly. Connor snapped his neck to look where Mitchell was speaking. 

“Oh, you flatter me, Mitch.” Basil stuck out his purple tongue, most likely dyed from one of Will’s snowcones. Before Mitchell could respond, Basil turned his face upward and grabbed Sebastian’s chin to push their lips together. Mitchell sighed hugely and looked away, rolling his eyes at Connor. 

Basil swept by with a teasing grin, winking at him. “See you, Mitch. Hi Connor.” 

Sebastian tied his apron back on and waved off his not-boyfriend. “Oh, Connor. What a surprise it is to see you here, speaking to Mitchell.” 

Mitchell shook his head and ignored that. “We’re not running a kissing booth, Sebastian. You don’t need to bring Basil around every week.”

Seb rolled his eyes. “If this was a kissing booth, we’d be making a lot more than chocolate money. Am I right, Connor?” 

Connor’s face turned a dark red--he must be getting too much sun. 

“Oh, leave him alone. Did you at least talk to Silena while you were off?” 

He gestured over his shoulder. “Tried, but she and Scarlett were too invested in the teen drama happening across the line. Clarisse is basically manning the strawberry stand herself at this point.” 

Mitchell followed his gesture, already knowing. Their siblings had become quite invested in the most recent pre-romance happening every Saturday morning. At the booth across from their chocolate stall, Percy was currently handing out some blue soft-serve cones to kids while his mother smiled widely at her own dazed-looking customer. Their candy and ice cream booth had been Mitchell and Sebastian’s biggest competition, but Sally Jackson was too beautiful and delightful to keep rivals with. Now, they traded variety boxes of their new and most popular from that week--their own mother was suitably impressed.  

Annabeth’s booth, next to Percy and Sally’s, had its own array of curious customers peering down at her homemade journals and secondhand books. Usually, Percy and Annabeth spent every farmer’s market morning making much too much noise bickering and laughing while everyone else set up. Mitchell was personally two weeks away from shoving them both into Nico’s portable walk-in cooler and locking the door until they admitted their feelings. 

Mitchell groaned and wiped his face, back to the moment. “We need to talk to her some time today if we want to do chocolate-covered strawberries for the craft fair this Thursday.” 

Sebastian paused, then winced. “Wait… the craft fair is on Thursday? This Thursday?”

Mitchell already knew where he was going with this. He ran a hand over his face in frustration. “Sebastian, the senior choir is going to be there! You know how busy we get, I’ve already scheduled for an extra batch of the sugar-free dark chocolate truffles, I can’t run it on my own!”

“I thought it was next Thursday!” 

“I texted you three times about it.” 

“Well, I can’t cancel my date, she’ll never go out with me again -”

“I can’t run it on my own! Seb, I can’t believe -”

“I can help.”

Mitchell paused where he was about to ramp up into a new point and turned slowly to face the other man, who he briefly forgot was there. “What?”

Connor shifted his weight, “I can help, if you need it. It’s the craft fair on Beech street, right?” Mitchell nodded slowly. “Yeah, Travis and Katie are gonna have a mini fresh juice booth. Nothing big, but I was gonna tag along. Um, so I’ll already be there. And can help.” 

“See!” Sebastian gestured toward him. “Works out great!”

Mitchell shot him a dirty look but faced Connor, so grateful he could taste it. “I could kiss you,” Mitchell shook his head, his shoulders loose in absolute relief. “I’ll pay you, of course -”

Connor was back to that bright red. “Oh, don’t, seriously -”

“I insist -”

“Really, you don’t have to, I’m happy to help -” 

“This is horrible,” Sebastian muttered. “This is fucking torture.” 

Mitchell spun to face him, his finger already out in warning. “You! Don’t think I’m not still upset with you!”

Sebastian only flipped him off with a sarcastic grin, taking his seat. Mitchell prayed for strength. Finally, he turned back to Connor with a much more relieved and pleased expression than the one he was giving Sebastian. Connor perked up at the attention. Mitchell smiled at that. 

“Thank you again for volunteering.” He held out his hand. “Arm?”

Connor held out his arm without hesitation, then looked confused. “Why am I doing this?” He asked, his arm still extended. 

Mitchell grabbed his wrist to pull it steady. “We’re out of receipt paper.” Mitchell uncapped the sharpie with his teeth and wrote out his phone number in straight, even lines across Connor’s skin. He finished it off with a small heart and a -M. 

“Text me,” Mitchell took a moment to smile, “we can work out the details later. Maybe go to breakfast before the fair?” 

“Yes,” Connor was saying the word before Mitchell was even finished speaking. Mitchell’s lips quirked up ever so slightly. 

“Great. Don’t lose that now.” Mitchell nodded down to his wrist. 

Connor’s face went much, much too serious. “I won’t,” He said gravely, like he was accepting a mission. His other hand clenched at his own wrist. Mitchell waved him off kindly as he began stumbling back to his booth, dazed. 

Sebastian popped a stick of gum in and quickly blew a bubble. “You know,” he set his boots on the table edge, “you could have just grabbed some receipt paper.” 

Mitchell hummed, knocked Seb’s boots off the table, and took his seat. “Weird. Didn’t think of that.” 

Sebastian laughed, “I thought you were being too oblivious to notice anything, what happened to that?”

He sighed. “There’s only so much chocolate that man can buy from us, Sebastian. I don’t even think he likes chocolate that much.” 

“So? Free tips.” 

Mitchell’s eyes snapped to the small plastic “TIPS” jar they had by the spare reader, put there on Sebastian’s insistence. Connor was the only person who ever utilized it, usually by several rolled twenties shoved in haphazardly. Mitchell had insisted time and time again that Connor didn’t need to tip, but that only resulted in sneakier tips and then denying of said sneaky tips.  

Mitchell reached for the jar, fully intending on shoving the twenties into Katie and Grover’s tips despite Sebastian’s complaints, when Connor made a sudden reappearance as he burst back into their line of sight, heaving for breath with a watermelon clenched to his chest. Behind him, Katie could be heard yelling at him from their own booth. 

Connor stepped forward and help the melon up like a prize. “I didn’t forget your watermelon!” 

[peterporkerpeter]

Code Red — Part Four [Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader]

MASTERLIST//CR MASTERLIST

WC: 2.400

Right on cue, Axel Klein turned around, his large frame smacking straight into Y/N. The flustered girl managed a fake gasp, her acting skills impressive to say the least. She felt his limbs lock around her arms, his touch much less sensual and intimate than Peter's. She felt cold to the touch.

"I am so sorry!" He gasped, steadying Y/N, electric blue eyes piercing her own. They were icy and intrusive; Peter's were warm and inviting.

Y/N let out a nervous chuckle, quickly pondering on a quick accent. British? French? German? French. "It's fine! Happens to the best of us. Wait a minute," a bright smile glowing with youth and innocence flushed across her features, "you're . . . Alex Klein, right?"

The blonde headed boy nodded proudly, admiring the artificial accent. Y/N glanced down at the empty champagne glass balanced between his fingertips, thankful that the man had downed his drink before accidentally running into her. He placed the glass onto a nearby table, directing his full attention to Y/N.

"Sorry, it's just your professor teaches Chemistry in the university my older sister is enrolled in," Y/N said smoothly, gently folding her hands together.

Axel bit down on his lip, hard eyes running up and down her body. He drank in her curves, his mouth practically salivating at the intricate design of her dress. And the color—the color was amazing. He couldn't take her eyes off of her. She was tall and proud, her eyes open an attentive. The pinkness of her cheeks made her appear young and youthful.

"My, that is a stunning dress you are wearing. But that's great! Do you attend university as well?" He questioned.

"Thank you," Y/N shook her head bashfully. "And no, not currently. I'm taking a gap year to focus more on expanding my parent's gallery. I appreciate the arts."

Axel approached the girl, his breath reeking of bitter alcohol. He placed his hand on the small of her back, ushering Y/N away from the crowd and towards the series of beautiful artworks aligning the beige walls. She tried to remain relaxed, forcing her shoulders to relax beneath his freezing touch. Her nerves had skyrocketed as his fingers continued to trail further down.

"What a fucking asshole," Peter muttered over comms. Y/N bit down on the inside of her cheek to stifle her laughter.

"Holy shit! Peter, watch your language. I didn't even know you had a mouth on you like that. God."

"S-sorry! Sorry, Mr. Stark, I forgot comms were on. I'm still getting used to this."

"You're forgiven, Spider-ling."

"I-it's just—"

"I know."

Y/N leaned closer in towards Axel, the aroma of his cologne overbearing and practically suffocating. She swallowed hard, the smile on her face soft and genuine like that of a light and feathery cloud. Her dark eyes admired the painting in front of her. She knew exactly what is was: Black Lines, an abstract painting by Vasikly Kandinsky. Axel looked at her curiously, eyes flickering towards her luscious lips.

"Vasikly Kandinsky," she sighed, turning her head towards Axel. Their faces were close. Her stomach churned at the uneasy smile curving up onto his lips.

"Tell me about it, Miss . . ." he hummed, hoping for a name.

"Granger," Y/N stuck out her hand, saying the first name that had come to mind. "Veronica Granger."

"You're not fucking serious."

"I didn't know she knew anything about art?"

"Y/N has like a billion art history books. Did you not know she's taking an art history course online?" Peter continued to watch from far away, standing beside Wanda.

"What, are you her stalker now?" Tony teased.

Peter's eyes widened. "N-no! I-I just—she has art books in her room—"

"And why were you in her room, young man?"

"Studying!"

"Okay, yeah, sure. Studying. Whatever you say, kid."

"It's true!"

Axel took Y/N's small hand into his, shaking it gently. He pulled it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles before allowing their hands to tangle. Something in eyes sent fear surging through her veins. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. All she knew was that she had a bad feeling. "Lovely to meet you, Miss Veronica Granger."

"And you," she gave a sultry grin. "Now, the painting is Black Lines. I find it odd that this painting is here—displayed in the main halls. It's abstract, contemporary, unlike the others. But art doesn't really have a place—it's not categorized, it just kind of is. Art is not about what you see—well, it can be, but it's mostly about what it makes you feel."

"Interesting," he murmured, staring deeply into the painting. He managed a scoff. "It looks almost like a five-year-old drew it."

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. "Maybe so, but look at the harsh lines. They're dark and angry. Agitated almost. Tell me, Axel Klein, what do you feel when you look at the painting?" She leaned in, their lips hovering over each other. She gazed deeply into his eyes, receiving nothing but absence in return.

"I-I don't know," he stuttered.

Y/N ran her fingers gently down his arm, squeezing his wrist reassuringly. She rotated her head back towards the painting, Axel's pupils still cast upon her curved jaw.

"That's a perfectly acceptable answer. Sometimes art is confusing. That's what makes it real," Y/N whispered, continuing to look at the painting. The lines were harsh, yet the bright hues conjured something else to ignite within her. He was certainly right. It was perplexing—perplexing in a way that was honest and refreshing. "Now. We could talk about art all night, or you could buy me a drink."

Axel grinned coyly. "That sounds lovely."

"Kid, I don't know if you spewed all out that garbage straight out of your ass or if you actually knew that, but good job."

"That was genius. See, Tony? She's a natural at this."

Y/N and Axel maneuvered through the crowd, his hand still latched tightly onto hers. He stood in front of her, leading the way. Y/N felt her gaze drift over towards Peter who remained against the wall, making indistinct conversation with Wanda. The two made eye contact for a moment, and Peter sent the girl a sympathetic, yet reassuring smile.

"Wait, can Y/N even handle liquor? Kid! Don't get champagne! For the love of God, don't get champagne!"

"Your most expensive wine for me, and a . . ."

Y/N panicked. "Vodka Martini, please. With three olives." Fuck.

"YOU'RE FUCKING LYING."

"You heard what the lady said," Axel grinned at the bartender.

"Y/N, if you go on a bender before this thing is done with, I'm going to lose it."

Y/N stood against the bar, toying absentmindedly with the spaghetti straps of her dress. Steve was just a few people down—she could see him if she turned around, whereas Clint and Natasha remained stationed at one of the clothed tables off towards the opposite side of the room. Several pairs of eyes were trailing her, but one of them was practically trying to burn through the material of her dress.

The bartender slid the expensive glasses to the two, and Axel set down a wad of cash.

"Thank you," Y/N smiled.

"To art," Axel joked. Y/N managed a scoff before clinking their glasses together.

"Quite a creative toast," she said sarcastically.

"What can I say? I'm a creative guy. Anyways, I want to more about you. You're fascinating, Veronica. Mysterious and quite beautiful."

Y/N enjoyed making up her life story. It was riveting, and she relished in the idea of crafting some form of alter ego. In a way, it was cathartic in comparison to her own life. Playing Y/N was difficult and gloomy, but the roll of Veronica Granger was full of light and happiness, architecture and glowing brilliance. Veronica Granger could be whoever she wanted. She was grounded steadily in a world full of chaos.

"I was born and raised in France near the country—that explains the accent you might be curious about—but I moved to the states when I was thirteen. A few years later, I spent another year in France living with my grandmother before she passed away. It was an impressionable time in my life and my grandmother wanted to take me all over. I've seen many beautiful places: the Palace of Versailles, Montmartre, the Château de Chenonceau, Arc de Triomphe, the Canal Saint-Martin. You should visit if you were ever given the opportunity. Architecture is golden there. Everything is. I'm sure a man of your taste would appreciate it the way it should be appreciated."

Axel flashed the girl a dimpled smile. "You seem to know a lot about a lot."

Y/N shrugged. She ran a hand through her hair, craning her neck to the side to show off her jawline, inviting him to smell her pricey perfume.

Peter was listening intently to their conversation over comms. Axel would never know how much Y/N knew. She was brilliant in every way you could be brilliant, and the only he saw was her body and her lips. He didn't care about her dreams, he didn't care about her thoughts. Axel didn't care about her, not that way that he did.

"I know plenty," Y/N responded, taking a sip of her drink. It was bitter, and she hated it, but nonetheless she swallowed her drink and continued to play the part.

"If you know so much," he challenged, "what do you know about me?"

Y/N studied his eyes, trying to take what she could get from the void of uncertainty floating within clear blue skies. She took another hard sip of her drink and leaned forward, her lips grazing over his, reminiscent of the bittersweet taste of alcohol. Seductively, her glittering irises peered into his, pulling Axel into a colorful trance.

"I know you're looking at me like you want to fuck me," she whispered.

Tony sputtered. "WHAT THE FUCK."

"Can she say that? Is that allowed? I feel like I shouldn't be here," Steve panicked.

"I feel like I'm invading on a moment. Can I take out my comms?" Clint groaned.

"I don't want to be here anymore," grumbled Peter.

"Everyone shut the fuck up. She's got him. Please, like she's actually going to sleep with him. Did you say the way she was looking at Peter? Idiots."

"Wait, what?!" Peter shrieked.

"Yeah, what?! There will be no sleeping with anyone in any situation whatsoever! I don't care how she's looking at anyone! Peter, you're not sleeping with Y/N!" Tony screamed.

"I-I never said I wanted to do that! No offense, Y/N. I-I mean, it's not like I wouldn't not want to sleep with you, but I-I should at least take you to dinner first. Right?! RIGHT?!"

Y/N wanted to tell everyone to shut up, but she was already at the top of her game. She was finally about to get in with him.

She mustered up the courage to dip in closer, pressing a sensual kiss promptly against his lips. It lasted a few seconds, and everyone on the comms was screaming their heads off, but the kiss was just the icing on the cake. Axel kissed back, his hand tracing down her back. Y/N stretched her hand back and grabbed his wrist before allowing him to go any further. She pulled away from his lips, a smirk on her lips.

"Playing hard to get?" Axel whispered huskily.

Y/N raised her eyebrows, tilting her head. She batted her lashes at him. "Not at all. I just want to save it all for you. What do you say we get out of here away from prying eyes, Mr. Klein?"

Axel pressed another kiss roughly against her lips. "I'd say that's another brilliant idea of yours."

Y/N grinned, then finished off the last few sips of her drink before joining Axel. He escorted her past the dance floor, back toward the entrance of the museum. She didn't look back as she slipped passed the door, her arm woven around his. She couldn't believe she'd just accomplished the first part of the mission. Was it a miracle?

"Nice job, Y/N. Almost gave me a freaking heart attack, but nice job."

"What can I say, boys? She's a natural."

A car pulled up at the end of the staircase, and Axel hastily opened the door for Y/N. The young girl uttered a quick "thank you" before gathering her elegant dress and slipping inside. The car door shut behind her, and before she knew it she was off.

Y/N clicked the button on her bracelet once. She wouldn't be clicking it the remainder of the night.

Axel Klein's hand traced the silk lining of her skirt, his fingertips ghosting along the slit until he gently laid his hand against her knee. Y/N's breath hitched in her throat. She didn't want him to touch her, but she had to let him. She was so close to finding the item. She internally made a pact to brave it out, vowing to stop it if he went any further.

"That dress really is lovely," Axel commented, his hand slowly moving up towards her thigh. His hot breath lingered on the side of her face, teeth latching around her lobe, tugging gently. Y/N held her breath, hoping he wouldn't discover the ear piece. "Red's my favorite color. Did you know that?"

"I guess it was just pure luck for us to cross path's tonight," Y/N whispered, her voice breaking.

"Or maybe it wasn't," the tone of Axel's voice shifted from the careless to malicious, his grip around her thigh tightening to the point where it hurt. Y/N reached down, trying to pull his hand away, fear etching away at her core. Her blood ran cold when he reached into her ear and pulled out the earpiece. "Y/N Y/L/N. I know a lot about you. You're the magician, right? The witch?"

Y/N swallowed, a tear slipping out of her eye. The expression on her face was a combination of both fear and rage. She tasted copper on her tongue.

"It's a shame. I thought you were kind of pretty," he wiped away the tear and tilted up her chin using his finger. His eyes were cold. "Too bad."

Y/N gasped as she felt a pinch in her neck, a drowsy feeling instantly dispersing like a poison through her veins. Dizziness overcame her, black spots swimming into her vision. Her surroundings began to blur, her legs going numb, her arms soon following.

"Sedative," she mumbled, dropping the accent. She wondered what was being said over comms.

Axel grinned. "Sedative."

Black lines. Cold eyes. Grayness. Darkness.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

TAG LIST: @reallyconfusednowpt2 @-thatgirloverthere- @mca-attack21 @high-functioning-fangirl02 @yourwonderbelle @printedpeterparker @kinghiggins @sugarsweetkiss @dragonfly-flowerbeds @zzeacat @maggieand-theferociousbeast @reanethefirst @shamelessbookaddict @southsidesserpent @enchantedrhoses @alienadvocate @bethanythebold

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Gay Sailors Are Gay AU?  Yes?  No?

“Do you ever think about getting out of here?”

“Hmm?”

“Off this old tub, I mean.  Do you ever just… think of leaving?”

“Mm, sometimes, I guess.  You?”

“I…” A sigh. “I want to be captain of my own ship. I want to sail under my own flag, as far as I want, wherever I want.  I don’t want to be a deckhand for the rest of my life.”

She smiles at Catra in the dim light of the moon.  “And what will the illustrious Captain Catra do on a ship of her own?” She says it teasingly, but she’s genuinely curious.

She sees her cot mate’s face and ears perk up as she flashes bright white fangs.  “I’d become the best pirate that’s ever sailed!  I’d rake in enough loot to buy an island from the Crown and make it a home. I’d have the best and fiercest crew and together we’d have the most feared and respected rig on these seas.”  She wiggles closer to Adora, as much as she can without jostling their small cot too much.  “And you’d be there with me,” she whispers, her mismatched eyes glowing in the dark.

“As your first mate?”

“As my co-captain,” Catra corrects, her fingers playing with Adora’s under their thin blanket.  “It’ll be you and I in charge for a change.  Making decisions, leading a crew.”  She presses their foreheads together.  “Fighting side by side, with all the wealth and glory in this world ours for the taking.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Adora whispers against Catra’s mouth, so close to her own.  She is grateful for the night when their lips meet. The privacy and intimacy of this moment is a greater treasure to her than a dozen chests of gold.

The kiss is sweet and slow, and she can’t seem to get enough of it.  Catra’s tongue against her own is so tantalizing that she can only deepen the contact.  It’s only when she feels the need for oxygen that she breaks away.  She tries to breath, but her mouth is filled with blood and saltwater.  She coughs, gasps, but she can’t seem to get any air, only succeeding in spluttering out more salt and copper and bile onto the deck as Catra looks on in horror. Her side is burning.  She looks down and watches red gush from her stomach and ruin her linen shirt and jerkin.  She’s freezing, all the warmth in her bones leaking out of the place where the lead shot pierced her skin.  She holds her wound with one hand and reaches out to Catra with the other. Catra just stands there, stock still, mouth agape.  There’s the percussion of a flintlock, and she gasps as the second shot punctures her chest, right between her ribs.  The force knocks her back, and she’s falling, falling, falling forever until she feels the unforgiving bite of the ocean all around her.  She sinks beneath the waves that beat against the side of the ship, down and down and down.  A tendril of inky darkness is pulling her further below, until she can’t even see the refracted light of the moon.  There’s nothing but darkness now, darkness and a pain that lessens as the cold gets worse.

There’s nothing, nothing…  Except she feels her body shaking.  There’s nothing at all.  “Captain! Yo, Adora!”

She jerks awake, her eyes snapping open.  She’s met with a wooden ceiling, with sunlight streaming through round windows, and with the face of Bow, her first mate.

“What is it?” She asks him, shaking her head to ease her disorientation.  “Is something wrong?”

Bow shrugs.  “Dunno about wrong, but interesting would cover it.  We need you up on deck.”

“Alright, I’ll be up in a minute.  Go keep a handle on whatever it is until I get there.”

“Aye, Captain!” He says brightly as he exits her quarters. Adora sits up in bed, rubbing her eyes and stretching.  Messy locks of blonde hair fall in her face, and she hastens to pull them back into a ponytail with a sturdy piece of twine.  Old wounds twinge as she climbs from her bed, and she rubs them absently, trying to put the dream out of her mind.  She changes her shirt and tightens up the laces on her breeches.  She exits her quarters and climbs the stairs up to the deck of her ship, and resolves not to dwell one moment on the past today.

On deck her crew is already hard at work preparing for their voyage.  They had docked in Bright Moon three days ago to deliver a shipment of sugar from way down south in Half-Moon.  Adora had spent most of those three days securing another job for them, and had finally gotten an offer last night, to ship lumber as well as valuable black powder down to the islands of Salineas far to the Southwest.  A long trip that would pay well; Adora’s favorite kind of job.  She surveys her crew loading on fat piles of wood and large barrels of gunpowder before she turns to address what is so “interesting”, as Bow puts it.

Standing in the middle of her deck is the Queen of Bright Moon and an entire retinue of guards, servants, and other nobility.  The Queen, Angella, is an impressively tall and slender woman---a beanpole, if you listened to the rabble---who commands attention like being noticed is her natural state.  Maybe it is.  She is dressed elegantly, but more importantly, expensively, and her translucent wings fold behind her with effortless grace.  She watches the sailors at work with a stoic expression that betrays just a hint of suspicion, or perhaps appraisal.  Next to her is a significantly shorter and younger girl, who, unlike the Queen, is wingless, full-figured, and cute.  Her sparkling hair is short and poofy, and while her clothes are just as expensive and well-crafted, she doesn’t seem as comfortable in them as the Queen. Adora takes this girl to be the ever-mysterious Princess Glimmer, who is rarely seen but frequently discussed in the streets and taverns of Bright Moon.  Beside mother and daughter are a gaggle of people Adora doesn’t care to worry about right now.  She’s wary of the Royal Guard, armed with spears and pistols, but they don’t make a move against her as she approaches.

Bow is already there speaking to the Queen, who doesn’t look especially impressed but is nevertheless conversing politely.

“Ah, here’s our captain!”  Bow says as he turns around to see her.  “Captain Adora, this is---”

“Her Royal Majesty, Queen Angella of the kingdom of Bright Moon. As well as her Royal Highness, Princess Glimmer of Bright Moon,” a mousy little man on the right side of the Queen spouts.  Bow, while his back is turned to the royal party, rolls his eyes ever so slightly at Adora before stepping back to let her handle things.

Adora dips into a bow, just low enough to be respectful.  “Your Majesty, Your Highness, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?”  Even though she generally detests them, she can play nice with the noble types when she has to, mostly when it’s going to get her paid.

“Captain Adora,” says the Queen, in her smooth voice and high society accent.  “You are held in high regard amongst my people and my court.  Your services and conduct have been deemed exceptional by many a merchant in my capital.”

“I am pleased to hear it, Your Majesty.  We here on the Swift Wind strive for efficiency and excellence.”

“That being said, what I am here to ask of you today is not a matter of transporting goods.”  She indicates her daughter.  “This is my daughter, Princess Glimmer.  She has recently turned 18 years of age.”  A big thing, that, when the heir to the throne comes of age.  Adora remembers that they had docked on the same night as the grand ball held for the occasion.  Being a bunch of lowly seafarers, they hadn’t been invited, but they’d made due in the taverns that were celebrating the event with women and ale.  “As a foreign-born woman, you might not be aware of the customs in Bright Moon when a royal child comes of age.”  There’s no obvious judgement or distaste when the queen calls her foreign-born, which earns her a point in Adora’s book.  She gets called foreign-born (and other less pleasant synonyms) no matter where she docks, so she’s used to the descriptor.  “When a Prince of Princess of Bright Moon turns 18, they are granted a particularly special request, which must be answered. My daughter,” and she says that with a touch of irritation.  The Princess frowns but hold her head high.  “Has requested to travel aboard a mariner’s vessel.  In order to… broaden her horizons.”

Adora holds back a smirk.  She’s sure her pretty, oh-so-refined Royal Majesty has much less courtly words she could use, judging by the lime-licker expression on her lovely face. That she doesn’t use them seems a great testament to her willpower.

“And you would like her to travel aboard the Swift Wind?”

“I have vetted you, your crew, and your vessel extensively. I will only accept the best for Glimmer.”  She picks up her many skirts and steps directly in front of Adora.  Now, Adora isn’t short by any stretch of the imagination, but still the Queen towers over her when she stands this close.  Her dark eyes are deadly serious.  “My daughter wishes to travel for one year.  In exchange for her safety and good health, I am willing to pay you a sum of 200,000 gold pieces, 50,000 now and the rest upon her return.”

Adora controls her expression, but she can’t stop her eyes from widening. 200,000?  200 fucking thousand gold pieces?  Just for ferrying some royal lass around the South Sea for a year? She hears Bow whistle softly in the background.  “However,” the Queen says, her eyes narrowing.  “You will only receive the second part of your fee IF my daughter returns safe and happy.  Do you understand what I am offering you, Captain Adora?”  Every syllable is sharp and pronounced, adding extra bite to each word.

“It seems right clear to me, your Majesty,” Adora says, holding her ground.  “Aye, we’ll take the Princess, and she’ll sail with us for a year.”  She finally steps aside to gesture courteously towards her quarters.  “If you would prefer, we can discuss the finer details in my study.”

“There will be no need,” says the Queen imperiously.  “I would prefer that you instead guide my daughter and I in inspecting your vessel.  I must be satisfied with her accommodations before we can finalize our arrangement.”

“As you wish, my Queen,” Adora says neutrally with another quick bow.  “Bow, with me,” she says to her first mate, and he falls in step behind her, the Queen, and the Princess.  She leads them on a tour of the Swift Wind.  There isn’t much to see, but the Queen is meticulous, checking everything for the slightest sign of potential risk.  She pesters Adora with questions that she and Bow tag-team to answer.

When they reach the crew sleeping quarters, Adora is left somewhat awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.  It wasn’t that the quarters were bad, per se.  They were plenty good enough for sailors, but she didn’t have to check to know that the Queen was displeased.  “These are the crew’s quarters.  The Princess will sleep down here while we are at sea.”

“This is highly unseemly, Captain Adora.  How can I trust that my daughter will be safe amongst your crew while she is sleeping?”

“Ugh, Mom!”  The Princess groans.  “It’s fine, stop worrying!”

“It will not be fine until I receive a satisfactory answer, Glimmer,” the Queen says crossly.

Adora hides her gulp and tries not to think of the heavily armed guards still on her deck.  “With all due respect, Your Majesty, you’ve looked into me and my crew.  You’ve heard what our associates say about our conduct. If you didn’t already trust that we would keep your daughter safe and well-treated, you wouldn’t have made the offer to begin with.”  She gestures at the bunks and hammocks.  “These beds are good for sleepin’ and mendin’, and whatever else.  We keep ‘em clean and tidy.  My crew are all of an honorable sort, who would only treat Princess Glimmer with the utmost respect.”  Sensing that she wasn’t quite there yet, she adds, “You have my word that on my honor Princess Glimmer will be perfectly protected and cared for during her time with us.”  She meets the Queen’s gaze steadfastly, allowing her honesty to come through clearly.

The Queen stares at her for a long, tense moment.  Then her shoulders relax, and she sighs.  “Very well.  I am satisfied with the Swift Wind and with you, Captain Adora.”  She wastes no time turning around and exiting the belly of the ship, with Adora, Bow, and Glimmer following behind.  Back on the deck, the Queen rejoins her entourage.  “I have been informed that you disembark for Salineas tomorrow morning, correct?”

Adora nods.  “We’ll be settin’ sail round 10 o’clock.”

“That is acceptable.  Tomorrow at 9 o’clock I will be here with my daughter and the first part of your fee.  Until then, Captain Adora.”

“Until then, Your Majesty, Princess.”  The Queens and walks primly down the boarding ramp, but the Princess turns around before she goes and smiles tentatively at Adora and Bow. Adora grins politely back at her, and she knows without looking that Bow is beaming.  After she disappears after her mother, she feels her first mate’s burly arms clap down around her shoulders.

“200,000 gold!  200,000 gold, Cap, can you believe it?”

“Pfft, not really no.  But that was the real Queen presenting it to us, so I’m inclined to take her word.”  She steps out of Bow’s arms and turns around to face him.  “Listen up, Bow,” she says, using her authoritative captain voice.  “Here’s what’s going to happen.  We get the 50,000 tomorrow and take the lass on board. We’ll add into the crew’s pay as a bonus, but we are not saying where it came from.”

“Why not?” Bow asks, scratching her head.

“Too much of a liability.  People will do a lot for money if they want it or need it badly enough, and the fat heap of money the Queen is promising will tempt even the best of them. We won’t get a copper if some idiot gets it into their head that they can force an advanced payment by, say, takin’ the girl hostage and running off to the slave markets, or worse, tryin’ to mutiny and then demanding a ransom.”

“Ooo, yeah, I get your point,” Bow says, wincing.

Adora nods.  “So, your lips and mine are sealed.  I’ll talk to the lass too once she’s on board.  If anyone asks, downplay the sum.  We’ll divvy up the whole fee fairly once the princess is back in her tower.”

“Aye, Captain!” Bow says with a jaunty salute.

 The rest of that day goes without issue.  Her crew, hard workers that they are, finish loading up their cargo just before sunset.  And when the sun rises again the next morning, Adora is already up and waiting by the rail for the Queen and the Princess.  They are remarkably punctual, stepping onto the docks just as the church bells ring for 9 o’clock.  The Princess is less elaborately dressed this morning, but Adora would still wager that her coat cost more than the Swift Wind.  The Queen, of course, is still dressed to the nines.

Adora watches from the deck as mother and daughter make their goodbyes, sharing a long and tight hug as the Queen whispers into the Princess’s ears.  The sight is… unsettling to Adora.  It makes her chest feel somewhat tight.  She knows why, even though it’s silly.  She’s long past wondering who her real mother is or where she might be now, but seeing such fervent parental affection makes her wish, just for a moment, that she had had at least one chance to meet her.  The closest she’d ever had to a maternal figure was Shadow Weaver, the sea witch, back when…

The old scar between her ribs twinges again, and she takes it as a warning.  She sighs. There’s no need to go down that path, unless you want more nightmares tonight.  Her Sword, strapped to her hip, offers comfort, the peculiar thing. She hears It whispers in her mind’s ear as it attempts to soothe her.  She isn’t sure what It thinks to accomplishes because she is most certainly not soothed by hearing disembodied voices.  She pats the hilt lamely to shut it up, especially now that the Princess is marching up the ramp toward her.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” she greets cordially, offering her hand.  That’s something you do for princesses, right?  Glimmer takes her hand delicately and lets Adora guide over the last bump in the walkway and onto the deck.  

Glimmer lets go of her hand and turns, dropping into a curtsey that looks uncomfortable.  “Good morning, Captain Adora.  Thank you ever so much for allowing me to sail with you.”  What’s that sour little twist on her mouth for?  A chest carried by two servants comes up behind her, their pay no doubt.  Bow, quick lad that he is, hastens to direct them to stow the gold out of sight before any of the rest of the crew see it.

The Princess turns to wave goodbye to her mother while those same castle servants come back to bring up a heavy-looking trunk, no doubt full of things a princess of Bright Moon can’t live without.  Adora wants to roll her eyes, but doesn’t.  Once the servants are off the ramp, they draw it up, and her deckhands undo the ropes mooring the Swift Wind.  Bow takes the helm, and he guides the ship carefully off the dock and into the larger harbor.  Glimmer waves to her mother once more as she gets further and further away, and then she turns to Adora with a bold and businesslike expression on her face.

“Okay, so, Captain,” she starts, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know my mom gave you a hard time about your ship and about keeping me safe, but honestly, it’s fine.  I mean it, you don’t have to give me any special treatment.”

Adora grins because she can’t help it.  This girl is cute and poofy and powdered, wearing a silver-trimmed velvet coat no less, and she’s asking for “no special treatment”.  “With all due respect, my Princess, your mother made it… quite clear that you must only receive our best.  I’m not inclined to test her temper.”

“Ugh, don’t listen to her, she was just trying to scare you,” Glimmer says.  She grunts in annoyance.  “She’s so overprotective, but I’m not made of glass and I can handle sleeping on a cot with some sailors for a year.”  She places both her well-manicured hands on her shapely hips.  “And, I’ll have you know, Captain, that I can pull my weight around here.  Don’t expect me to just sit around like some layabout.  I can work, and I will work, if you give me a job to do.”

Adora snorts, another involuntary reaction.  “What’s so funny?!” Glimmer barks, eyes narrowing.  Suddenly, the resemblance between Princess and Queen is very prominent.

“Ah, you’ll have’ta forgive me, lass,” she says, still giggling. “It’s just, ahem, with all due respect, you’re a princess.  Have you ever done work in your life?  And I mean real work, not whatever tricky games you lot play in your fancy palaces.”

“W-well,” Glimmer sputters.  “Not as such, but don’t think me incapable!  I’m a fast learner, and I work hard.  I excelled in all my studies.  And I was the best rider on the royal polo team, so I can do physical things too.”

The best rider on the royal polo team, Gods preserve them.  But she takes a moment to consider this unusual princess seriously. “So of all the things you could have asked for on your 18th birthday, you asked to work on a trading ship?”

“Uh, well, Mom doesn’t really know about the working part, but, essentially yes.  I need something like this.  To go out and see the world, not just look at paintings of it in my room.  To meet people like you who actually have real work to do. One day I’m going to be Queen, and when that day comes, I want to be prepared.  I want to know what it is to really labor on something, I want to know what normal people do with their lives, so I can rule from a place of experience with those things and better know what’s best for my people.  Does… does any of that makes sense?”  The Princess is blushing, rosy pink suffusing tan cheeks, and it’s a fair distraction to Adora.  But she does answer.

“That’s quite a noble quest you’ve gone and set yourself, Your Highness.  I can respect drive and honorable ambition.  As you will’t then.  You’ll work, earn your keep with the rest of my crew, and do so without complaint like they do.  Understood, Princess?”

“Understood, Captain.  And, please, call me Glimmer.  It would be a little weird if my boss called me princess all the time.”

“Alright, have it your way.  You’ll start with going over the ledgers.  Follow me.”

“What?  Ledgers?”

“Aye,” Adora says turning back around.  “They’ve been needing a look-through now that we’ve finished our old job and got two new ones.”  She raises an eyebrow.  “Unless that’s not the kind of real work you’re interested in?”

“N-no!” The Princess quickly protests.  “I’ll do it, and better than anyone you’ve had before! I just… was expecting something more exc… ah, involved.”

Adora softens her smirk into a pleasant smile.  “You’ll start with that.  Show me you can do it, and then we’ll see about more involved work.  Deal?”

Glimmer sighs, but then grins confidently.  “It’s a deal.”

“Then follow me, Glimmer.”

[shinytalent903-blog]

The Introduction of Addison West.

My DM invites me into the party, gives me a brief rundown of the world and such, and I come up with a character. I have a great love of writing, even if I am not that great at it, so I wrote a brief introduction to send to me DM.

They really enjoyed it, and they even used the NPC that I introduced as a main NPC in our campaign. I hope that someone else reads it and likes it too.

*****

Target: Addison Eleanor West.

Payment: 500,000 credits upon proof of completion.

*********************************************

Addison West loves The Luxe. This multi-level club in the silver district is wall to wall bodies, no matter the night, their VIP area is always open to her, and possibly the best of all she went to school with Alexis (DJ LX Sm00th) and he constantly kept her favourite tracks in reserve.

Tonight with a week until the Centennial Celebration the place is quiet. Addison can normally lounge in VIP and not see the bar for the crush of people, now everyone passing by can make eye contact and smile hopefully.

Addison taps violet nails on a glass filled with a lavender drink, a subtle signal to Matteo that she would love another.

Matteo gives her a look before puffing out his barrel chest and heading to the bar. Matteo is an old school body guard, been with her family since before she was born, and he could still snap a guy in half for looking at her the wrong way. Still sometimes Addison forgets that there are streaks of silver in his well oiled black hair.

Matteo likes to remind Addison that he is not an errand boy, that the West Corporation hires interns to fetch and carry for her. Addison always fires back with a reminder that an intern won't take a bullet for her.

The VIP area is empty save for her and while normally this is the time of the evening that Addison would start inviting people over, tonight something feels different. When Matteo brings her a fresh drink she thanks him with a smile, despite her mother's belief that Addison disrespects the West Family staff Addison has great respect for Matteo.

Like right now, Alexis is taking a break between sets and he is bee lining toward her. Matteo knows without her having to say a word to stand in front of the entrance and stare Alexei down like the immovable brick wall he is.

“Addi, love, call off your dog and let me come say hello?”

“Don't call me that. Matteo answers to mother, he is deaf to me. Isn't that right Matteo?”

Matteo grunts and continues his dead stare.

“Fine, fine, but you owe me a date Miss West.”

Matteo snorts, and Addison gives her camera ready smile. “IM me the details Lex.” she says before blowing him a kiss.

Soothed Alexis leaves and misses Addison rolling her eyes at her bodyguard as Matteo gives her the signal. The reason that Luxe holds her interest is that there is an almost nightly card game and finally, finally a seat was free at the table.

*

Lucien Spires took the job because Mallory West didn't give him room to say no. Lucien had no interest in killing some girl, but the amount of zeroes on that cheque were very convincing.

Taking a passing look in the glass as he exits the room he catches sight of the charcoal suit, the red tie, and the polish on his shoes and smirks. Green eyes stare back at him.

If Mrs West really wants to plan a funeral so close to the Centennial that's not his problem.

The Luxe has barely opened it's doors and Lucien has a seat at the table, he has to wait for the target to arrive, and then gain her seat at the table. The hosts like to keep her waiting, and for some reason the target doesn't seem to mind.

When the asset finally breezes in, smile fixed in place, she jokes about a table full of new faces to take credits from. It falls flat, and yet the target just fixes a feline smile to her darkened purple lips and picks up her hand.

*****

"She recently fixated on the colour purple. She will do this, you understand? Chase a particular interest only to give it up once it's been bled dry. I believe it has to do with her father's penchant for spoiling her."

"Ma'am, I don't know why that's relevant."

"Hmm?" Mallory West raises a perfect eyebrow at Lucien "Well I hope you would use the information provided to accurately identify your target."

"Ma'am, no offence, but everyone on Starbright knows your daughter, even with her recent hairstyle choice."

Of course only the impossibly rich could be this impossibly ignorant. Addison’s face had been all over the feeds when she dyed her blonde tresses a soft lavender, and shaved one side of her head.

Mallory West flinches, her children were clearly crafted in her image, and Addison is the one that constantly shifts and changes to not reflect her mother, but herself.

*

Addison was three hundred up overall, but this hand was not her hand. Worse still Matteo kept pacing in her peripheral vision throwing off her concentration. When she finally folds with a curse, tossing her cards on the table there's a moment when Addison doesn't understand why her cards hitting the table sounded like a gunshot.

The other woman at the table doesn't pause, she draws a las pistol from the small of her back and fires at the set of jowls that originally fired at Matteo.

"She's my contract, best back off old man."

Addison has grown up around guns. Matteo insisted on teaching her how to shoot, and Addison is awful at it but she understands gun fire, is familiar enough not to panic.

In an instant the table is on it's side and Addison is crouched on the sticky floor of a back room gambling den and wonder how in the constellations she got here.

*****

Well that's an interesting development. Lucien had been planning on making a move, just not something quite so bold.

The older gent at the table, he'd called himself Henry, had taken the guard out first. Smart, Matteo Delano was old school, and protective of his charge. He was also a legend in the underground boxing league, if you followed that sort of thing.

The woman (she didn't give a name so Lucien had been calling her Blondie) at the table had drawn Henry's attention, she had a laz pistol and knives for days. Good. Let them fight this out. Lucien would focus on- shit! Where did she go?

The burning sensation in his shoulder indicated that Blondie took exception to him trying to evac.

*****

Addison knows The Luxe's layout better than she knows the layout of her parent's penthouse. There is a service corridor, it leads to a set of stairs, and those stairs get you to an observation deck on the top level of the club.

Right now that's what Addison is focused on, get to the deck, be seen, and draw attention to herself.

There was a reason that those... what do you call someone trying to kill you? Criminals? Hitmen?

Assassins?

'Snap out of it West.' She gives herself a shake and starts pulling off her wine coloured heels in case she needs to run.

As she does Addison whispers "Call A."

There is a ringing in her ear “You've reached the messaging service of Armstrong West, if this is time sensitive please leave a message after the tone. Thank you.”

“A, dammit. If you're screening my calls I'm going to kill you.

********

Lucien chuckles, the first call of the night that Addison makes and it's a hurried call to her brother.

He wonders why she didn't call a security team, or even her father, odd that she would instead phone her brother.

“Listen bro, there's trouble. Matteo got shot, I'm on my way to you. I just gotta get out of here first.

I'm in the back corridor. A, please be careful. Stay put!”

Addison has no idea that this message isn't reaching her brother. Lucien rerouted all her calls to his own private line.

Lucien snakes his way out of the room, stepping over Blondie's unconscious form, leaving Harry bleeding out on the floor. There's a growing respect for this mark. Lucien looses his tie, and messes up his hair.

Hopefully he can sell this.

*****

Addison whips around glaring down the corridor, one shoe off and stumbling to wrench off the second. “Stay away from me.”

“Wait, please, what the hell,” and to really sell it Lucien winces with the pain in his shoulder. “what happened in there?”

Addison squints at him, and Lucien doesn’t know when he started referring to the mark by her name, but it doesn’t suit her.

“Well those two were plants, clearly something is going on.” Addison approaches, and angrily tears at the hem of her dress, it’s a deep shade of violet that off sets just how pale her tube engineered skin truly is. “Hold still.”

Lucien hisses for real this time as she wraps the wound.

“It won’t help for long, but it should be enough to get you out. On that note, we should move. Now.”

Addison heads for the stairs, and this should be the point where Lucien takes his snub nose from his ankle holster and puts one in the back of her head instead he finds himself asking

“How did you learn to do this?” He gestures to his shoulder.

They are halfway up the stairs before she answers “Matteo, my bodyguard, he taught me. He figured if I was going to go to these places that I needed some survival skills to back myself up.”

Lucien pauses on the stairs. “My name-”

“I don’t want to know. Just keep moving.”

“I know yours Miss West, it’s only proper that I give you my name in exchange.”

Addison just keeps climbing silently fuming, and yes being shot at kick starts ones adrenaline but Lucien had been expecting a whiny brat, one that went to pieces at the first sign of trouble, he hadn’t expected someone prepared to dress a wound, someone with a contingency plan.

“Listen when I get you out of this, then you can give me your name handsome, til then just accept my apology for getting you shot.”

“How do you know they were there for you?” Lucien is genuinely curious.

“I can buy one new face at that table, but three? No. Plus they took Matteo out first. Matteo was ex private military, an ex heavyweight boxer, and has been my shadow since I started school.

Everyone who knows my family knows I don’t leave my apartments without Matteo to watch out for me. Father’s orders.”

Lucien nods, clearly even Mallory West underestimates her daughter’s intellect.

“Okay, I’ll give you that.”

*********

Addison shoulders the door open and slips through, the crowd is really going now and all she can do is hope that there aren’t any more surprises waiting for her.

Mr Suit and Tie is following her, and she does feel bad that he got shot but she knows that getting worked up won’t help the situation.

“I called my brother, he’ll meet us somewhere safe. From there we can get you home.” Addison has been at card tables since she was 12, she got thrown out of her first school for running a less than legal card game and now she watches Suit and Tie’s face and something twists in her stomach.

Addison had just spent an hour with the man, and even when he’d been 500 credits in the hole he hadn’t broken a sweat. Now those vivid green eyes won’t meet her own cosmetically enhanced violet ones and she begins to wonder but decides to let things play out. Being a West meant knowing how to play the game.

“Uh Miss West, shouldn’t we get a Sec team?” Addison shakes her head, chuckling quietly.

“Drop the Miss, eh? Just West will be fine.” Addison can’t decide if this guy is trouble, or if he is Mr Wrong Place, Wrong Time.

“Okay West, where to?”

They make it to the front entrance of Luxe before she hears the tell tale crackle of an energy rifle.

Addison hasn’t fired one, but she’s heard them before, and now she smells burning.

“We gotta move.” Addison feels herself shoved out the door and into a mostly deserted corridor.

The burning smell stays with them and as she hauls Suit and Tie toward a set of silver elevator doors.

When the doors seal shut Suit and Tie slumps against the wall and he has both hands pressing to a fresh burn on his side.

“Maybe they are after you handsome.” A grim smile through gritted teeth greets her, there’s a sheen of sweat on his pale face.

“Lucien. It’s Lucien Spires.”

“I thought I said to keep it to yourself until we were in the clear.”

“I know, but maybe there’s something else you should know West.” Addison already knows.

Dammit.

“So you wanna collect on me now, or wait till those doors open?”

“I was thinking I would let you go.”

“Sure, at least tell me what the pay cheque would have been? Please tell me that you weren’t going to take less than a mill” Studying the shifty look on Lucien’s face Addison shakes her head

“What? Did they short change you? Damn. My stocks alone are worth at least 800 thou in credits. I’m disappointed in you Spires.” He starts laughing, which turns to a hacking cough.

“500 thousand credits, upon proof of completion.”

“I’m deeply hurt, that’s my monthly bookie allowance.” The doors open and showing a surprising amount of care Addison hooks an arm around Lucien’s torso and lets him lean on her as they try to hustle.

“Let’s get you patched up while you decide once and for all whether to collect or not.”

Addison had done this more than once, flipped someone from a hater into a follower, and while she isn’t sure that having a hitman on the payroll will increase her portfolio she sure hopes it will deter anyone else from taking a shot.

There’s a red dot at her feet, and then two, and then five. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Okay Spires, when I say run, you gotta haul ass, got it?” Lucien grits his teeth and nods. Addison isn’t sure that her new hitman will make it but since he had been planning on killing her for far less than what she is worth Addison doesn’t know if she is too worried.

*****

There’s a blur of varying shades of purple that moves down the mostly steel corridor and Lucien is doing his best to stay upright, and follow. Shots erupt behind them, and everywhere feeds are talking about “an electrical accident at a local club” because of course the Sec Team is spinning the story away from station wide panic.

A door slides open and he almost misses her dive into the opening, before he is being pulled inside with her.

“Confession time West, I intercepted the call you made to your brother.” Addison is at a console and he isn’t sure what she’s doing. “Figured that’s what happened. Sending him something now.”

“Is that safe?” Lucien is slumped on the ground, the left half of him on fire.

“It is when it’s from my father’s terminal. Now let’s see about getting you a med kit.”

Soon enough painkillers are being stabbed into his right shoulder and the familiar floating feeling has kicked in. Lucien begins to fight sleep, but he can’t. The black is all encompassing and he finally gives in and lets it take him.

When his eyes drift open there’s a scrap of paper in his hand, and it has to be from Addison because paper is more precious than gold on this station, and nobody else would think to waste it. Sure enough the ink is a sparkly purple, it looks more like lipstick than pen.

“This isn’t over Spires. We’ll be in touch.” -West

**********

“Addi, are you sure you’re okay?” Armstrong is standing over her in his kitchen, trying to inspect his sister for any sign that she isn’t herself.

“Listen A, I told you, I’m fine. Grab the bread would you?" Hip bumping her twin out of her way as she opens the fridge and starts pulling out meat, cheese, lettuce, and a tomato.

“Sandwiches? Are you seriously eating at a time like this? SOMEONE TRIED TO HAVE YOU KILLED?”

“And I am a growing girl A, I gotta keep my strength up. What if my blood pressure drops right when I need to run for my life?” Her twin frowns as he hands her bread, and butter.

“I can’t believe Matteo’s gone.” In that one moment she cracks a little, her voice softens, and her chin wobbles.

“Addi, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” The West twins weren’t raised to be affectionate. They found out a few years ago that they were only twins because their parents thought it would be efficient to just raise them both at once.

That doesn’t stop her brother from awkwardly rubbing her back as she assembles a pair of towering sandwich monuments.

They stand opposite each other in Armstrong’s kitchen, leaning on opposite benches with their feet just touching. Her toes are painted plum and his are in a pair of slippers as they silently consume what look to be mouth watering sandwiches.