#recruitment agencies in queens

[tempwork247]

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[novelizt]

I CAN BUILD A CASTLE OUT OF ALL THE BRICKS THEY THROW AT ME ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ angst + fluff, fake relationship

SYNOPSIS ➺ you recruit the daring anthony lockwood to stage a relationship that will rile up the press and give his company publicity.

WC ➺ 10.9k

DISCLAIMER ➺ actress! reader. the fic also sings the "all these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret" beat. lockwood calls reader "darling" and "starlet" because... you'll read why. i'm not sure if The Daily Gazette is a real thing. if it is, i mean no slander — this is merely fiction and I needed a publication name.

NOTE ➺ this is for the oldest/only child who takes on a lot for their family — i see you. also, imagine the nick-priyanka chair pull; i like to think that it's lockwood and darling in a nutshell. my ideas were all over the place so this came out a bit messier than i anticipated, but it is lockwood content so i hope you enjoy! especially you, @t2sh0 !!

They say the brightest stars are the ones that burn out first. That was probably what the gazette was counting on, at least.

Ever since you stepped into the limelight, and shortly earned the title of London's Darling, they made a dime a dozen in making your business their business. They would sing your name to high praise one moment then drag it through the mud the next.

You were content with letting them run their mouths, because it was no skin off your nose, but you drew the line at insulting your family.

Someone at the gazette thought it would be absolutely riveting to write about the dirt poor origins you were raised from. In the article, they not only criticized you, but put your parents under a microscope as well.

"All that really happened is, their daughter put on diamonds and called herself a queen," the Daily Gazette said. "It's only about time until they return to their roots—of which aren't much."

They insinuated that you might not even be your father's daughter—or if you were, it wouldn't be long 'til you came out to be as ill as he was. They called your mother weak for not being as proacticve in generating money, and you a fool for being their lapdog. No one in their right mind would just sit and let a publication sully their name like that.

If they were going to make up hullabaloo, you were going to step ahead and give them something else to talk about, and what better play than having London's Darling Starlet fall in love?

It had came to your attention that the gazette had set their eyes on one agency in particular: Lockwood and Company. Specifically one, Anthony Lockwood.

Where they besmirched your name, they glorified his. The kid was talented at weaving through a conversation, you'd give him that. From what you'd read, you already knew he liked being in the glare of publicity.

You were taking a gamble when you walked right up to their statute of work without a disguise. If the someone at the gazette saw you, you hoped that they would get the ball rolling. All that would be left to do is recruit Mr. Lockwood.

But Lockwood hadn't been the one to greet you at the door. You tried not to appear too shocked, but no one really expects to see someone geared in oversized cleaning gear. Whoever it was looked more alien than human.

"Arif's?" the curly haired boy inquired.

You were tempted to scratch your head, because what in the world was an 'Arifs'?

You were conjuring up a response, but then the boy was shoved aside. The girl who had taken his placed looked both inquisitive and sleep-deprived at the same time. Some kind of recognition happened in her eyes and you smiled, mirroring hers.

The curly haired boy looked positively disturbed by it.

"Hello," you said delicately. "does Mr. Lockwood happen to be in at the moment?"

"He is," the girl said. "You must be the Darling of London. I've seen you in the papers. My friend, Norrie, would be so happy if you could—"

"Luce?"

You weren't usually struck by strangers but you knew right away, that it must be him: Anthony Lockwood. He had the timbre and tone of a well-trained celebrity. It was no wonder the gazette was tripping over themselves to write him.

"Lucy's busy smiling at the Darling of London, or whatever she called her," the curly-haired boy reported, akin to a child who wanted to see their sibling be scolded.

"George," Lockwood turned his attention with a terse intonation. "why don't you pop on the kettle?"

George's smirk fell. He muttered something at Lucy before retreating to the door beside the stairwell. The wide berth he left gave you your first glimpse of the gazette's most recent favorite.

Anthony Lockwood was a spectacle in a suit and tie, looking exactly like his pictures in the papers. He cleaned up nicely enough. You just couldn't help but wince at the disarray his hair was in.

"Lucy, will you please?" Lockwood gave Lucy a look. She cast a glance at you before hesitantly joining George in the kitchen.

You made a mental note to ask about her friend, Norrie, later. It's the least you could do for her saving you from George.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Lockwood turned his attention back to you. He leaned easily against the doorframe, giving off the impression that he was conversational enough, even if you weren't being very good at being polite.

"Welcome to Lockwood and Co., I'm Anthony Lockwood," he said courteously, flashing a smile that would make the press go crazy. You've seen just one like it on cast mates, but he had done it so well you know he'd practiced to get it perfect, or maybe he was naturally good at smiling. You wouldn't know. His voice waded through your reverie. "How can we help you?"

"The kind of help I need isn't a usual request, Mr. Lockwood," you said forwardly. You glanced over his shoulder before offering a chaste smile. "May I come in?"

—

You didn't expect an audience of three after being lead to the receiving room. Then again, you should have. The reasonable assumption was that you were here for ghost-related troubles. You weren't sure how to clarify that you weren't.

You accepted a cup of tea and took in the air in the room before proceeding. Lockwood was sat right across from you, attentively bent toward you. Lucy was trying to keep on a amiable façade in her seat (likely to get a signature for her friend). George was... being himself. He was an odd one, but he had rid himself of his space suit, so that was nice. None of them seemed to be hostile though. That was always a good thing.

"I have a personal favor to ask of you," you started. You rested your hands over your knees, retaining your resolution. "and it involves the recent rumors about me."

"Which one? The one about your prissy attitude or the inevitable downfall of your entire family?" George wasn't as ignorant as he made himself out to be. He took a sip of tea when Lucy glared his way. Lockwood didn't look too surprised by his snide, George must regularly be like this.

You stifled a laugh of your own, amused by his forward nature. "Both, to be honest. The gazette has been generous with their slander lately." You tapped your finger on your knee. "One can only take so much . . . That's what brought me here. I need your help to keep them under control. You'll be properly compensated, of course."

"Miss Darling—" Lockwood started. It wasn't your name but you let it be since he sounded genuine enough. "—we are a psychical agency. What you're asking, it's out of our area of expertise."

"I am aware of that, but I'm not making this request to Lockwood & Co.," you said firmly. You steeled yourself when you set your eyes on him. He flinched under the intensity. "I'm asking you directly, Mr. Lockwood."

George hunched forward, unsuccessfully staunching a laugh. Lucy had straightened in her seat, eyes bugged out of her head. And Lockwood? The surprise on his face couldn't have been fake. He blinked and blinked, but his brain couldn't catch up.

You went on. "My family's been involved. I can't sit idly by while their names are being tarnished. I need something to dissolve those rumors, or at least distract the public enough to forget about them."

He cleared his throat but it was clear he was still ruffled by your earlier admission. "And how would I contribute to that?"

You tried to sound professional, but even your most prim tone sounded odd when it came to a request like this. "I need you to court me."

George stopped trying to muffle his laughter. He even grew bold enough to take a biscuit to snack on. "This is rich. 'Court' and 'Lockwood' in the same sentence? Never thought I'd see the day. You're better off with someone like Quill Kipps, Miss Darling—was it? At least he can act."

Lockwood shot a glare at George but he didn't budge, smiling as he devoured his biscuit. Lucy had recovered and gave her two cents. "George is right. Lockwood doesn't have the best track record in terms of subtlety."

Lockwood looked affronted. "I'm not as bad as you make me out to be."

"You're right," George said gleefully, smiling at you with his eyes. "He's worse."

"You know what," Lockwood said with renewed inspiration. "I'll help you, Miss Darling. Regardless of what my colleagues have to say." He turned his attention to you. You almost cracked a smile at the sheer determination in his complexion. Anthony Lockwood clearly despised being bad at anything. "I'm at your service, starting this very second." He poked the table to enunciate every word. Amused didn't feel like an apt word to describe what you were feeling.

"I was hoping you'd be the opposite of subtle," you said with a polite smile. "You're an enigma to the gazette, Mr. Lockwood. I need you to attract as much attention to us as you can."

He lifted his chin with that award-winning smile. "Consider it done."

George was still grinning to himself, finishing off his biscuit with a dodgy sort of laugh. Lucy had thrown herself back, likely holding in a sigh by the way her shoulders sunk.

Regardless, you felt hope rush through you as you reached across the table, sealing the deal with a handshake that shouldn't have been half as memorable as it was.

—

Lucy's Norrie had set off the domino effect, and you would be forever grateful for it. It didn't take long for the gazette to catch wind and write up their narrative.

!! LOCKWOOD & CO.'S SPECIAL CONNECTION TO LONDON'S DARLING

Recipients, it has come to our attention that London's Darling has shipped out a special signed poster for a friend from Lockwood & Co. The two parties have never had an interaction prior to this instance. We suspect a budding alliance from two very distinct worlds. More about Lockwood & Co.'s most recent escapade on page 7!

It was the first time you finished reading an article without your jaw tensing. It was doing well for your family's temperaments as well. Your mother was now inquiring about the blooming relationship between you and a certain someone instead of agonizing over the manic rumors told about the family. Whenever asked, you feigned ignorance and left the conversation at that.

—

The next time the gazette wrote about London's Darling and Lockwood & Co., it had been about a genuine act of kindness that had been caught on camera.

The trio had finished up a case late in the morning and you dropped by to gift them a hearty breakfast. You didn't intend for the gazette to pick up on the minute interaction, but they always found ways to weasel their way into things. If you didn't despise them so, you would have given them credit for their tenacity.

!! LONDON'S DARLING NOW BECOMING THE DARLING OF LOCKWOOD & CO.

Recipients, an insider recounts the story of seeing our Darling at 35 Portland Row. Coincidentally, the official offices for the psychical agency, Lockwood & Co. She narrates that the starlet had hand-delivered doughnuts and some other necessities; Actively taking time out of her bustling schedule to tend to the operatives she has recently befriended. For the first time since her limelight debut, she has a heart! Our insider also notes a particularly bright smile from the agency's founder and boss, Anthony Lockwood. Is this another one of our Darling's summer flings? See page 4 for news about Darling's controversial role in unveiled coming-of-age film.

You saw a couple reading the recent print as you were walking to Portland Row. They were particularly giggly, so it was safe to assume that the public was falling for your theatrics.

You arrived to Lockwood's abode with a smile.

—

"The gazette's gone feral, haven't they?" George exasperated, throwing the paper on the table after he had cut out Lockwood & Co's bit in the headlines. "You didn't even have to try for this one, did you?"

"Not at all," you chuckled. "They have a way of finding out, even if we don't mean for them to."

"They could have chosen a better picture," Lockwood murmured, eyes permanently narrowed at the cut-out George had hung on their wall. "I did not look that worn out that morning."

"I can't remember it, so I can't lie," Lucy said passively. She slid a pot of tamarind soup through the disarray of cups and papers. It gave you a wider glimpse of the doodles on the cloth. Lockwood had explained the nuance of the doodles earlier. You strongly believed anyone would find the scrawled notes (and insults) endearing.

You leaned over the table as the fragrance of the soup wafted into the air, like tendrils of smoke tempting you for a taste. You held back a smile and tried not to stare at their dinner for too long. You had more self-control than that, but, despite your best efforts, your stomach had a mind of its own.

Your stomach didn't usually rumble but it had chosen that specific moment to do so. You tried to play it off but the members of Lockwood & Co. had already paused in their steps, turning to you with varying levels of surprise. George looked disturbed; Lucy, startled; and Lockwood, amused.

"Hungry?" Lockwood asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not at all," you waved off. He saw right through your stoicism with a growing smile. "It was just a stomach cramp," you insisted.

He didn't move his eyes away from you as he pulled out a chair, but didn't sit in it. "Can't send you home with your belly doing that, can we, George?"

"The gazette might as well write us up for being terrible hosts," George said agreeably.

Lucy set out an additional plate and bowl. "We have a reputation to uphold, you know."

There was an air of something you couldn't quite place. You saw Lockwood's smile first, amused and welcoming all at once. From the corner of your eye, you found George and Lucy doing the same. There was no other word that could describe the moment other than 'warm'. With a feeble smile, you sat in the chair Lockwood had pulled out for you and tried not to look like a mangy raccoon in the midst of a famine.

Only when the sound of clinking cutlery and plates filled the room did you muster the courage to speak again. "Thank you for having me."

"Don't mention it, Starlet," Lockwood said, nudging your side. "You're the reason our clients have been burgeoning lately."

"Who knew a movie star had so much influence?" George asked rhetorically. "If we keep this up, we might be able to afford more biscuits."

"Even if that happens, the biscuit rule stays," Lucy stated, pointing her spoon at George.

There was always something gleefully odd about this place. Sometimes, it was hard to keep up. "What is this biscuit rule?" you asked, looking between all three of them.

"I'll tell you after dinner," Lockwood promised, carefully placing a bowl of soup next to your plate. "Eat. You must be starving."

You withheld the urge to smile but found that, even with your experties in pretending, you had a hard time acting in the company of Lockwood and Co.

—

"How strict is the biscuit rule rotation?" you inquired Lucy.

You had never experienced sleeping over at someone else's house. Doing so, at your mature age, felt a little zany. Not that you could do much about it.

The expert (Anthony John Lockwood) was firm about not letting you walk home at this dark hour. Even more so because the sun had set earlier than expected. Hence, the reason you found yourself rooming with Lucy for the night.

"Strict," was Lucy's answer; half with you, half not. She was at the vanity, writing in a journal. Likely for her friend, Norrie—if their names scribbled on the front was anything to go by. She looked so focused, you would have guessed she was aspiring to out-write the folks at the Daily Gazette.

Defeated, you heaved a sigh and submitted yourself to a few moments of quiet in a place so unfamiliar.

The bed bounced under your weight. The springs you heard in the mattress reminded of you of home, yet, the stars on the ceiling reminded you that you weren't. Most of them clung on but some had fallen off, leaving behind star-shaped irregularities in the paint. You counted four fallen stars before you were reeled back by the feeling of another weight falling beside you.

"Comfortable, Miss Darling?"

Lockwood.

You righted your posture. He sat up with you, taken-aback by your shift in demeanor.

"Yes," you said stiffly, combing down your hair. "Thank you for letting me stay the night."

"I couldn't let you go in good conscience," he said offhandedly. "Don't be tense. I'm only here to offer pajamas."

Your eyes found the neat pile stacked right beside him. The little act of kindness had warranted him a smile, one he returned with equal sheepishness.

"Thank you," you said again.

"It's no trouble." He flourished his hand as he said it. The springs creaked again when he shuffled off the bed. "Sleep well, Miss Darling."

"My name or just 'Darling' is fine, Mr. Lockwood. 'Miss' is much too formal."

"It's Anthony then, darling." He said it with such resounding charm, you almost regret allowing him to continue on that way. "Sleep well," he trailed off.

He stared at you, like he was looking for something in you. You were accustomed to getting weird, prolonged glances in the street, but you felt conscious when it was him. You blamed it on First Sleep-over Jitters. When you finally averted your gaze, he snapped out of his reverie. With a noncommital smile, he jerked a thumb at the door. "I'm right downstairs if you need anything."

"I'll keep that in mind, Anthony." As you said it, you couldn't shake the feeling similar to stepping into a classroom for the first time. There was a flash of surprise on his face before he schooled his expression, back to his notorious smile.

You wouldn't have known, but he couldn't shake the thought that he'd never heard his name sound so nice before.

He held back a smile as he said, "Goodnight then, darling."

You did worse at hiding yours. "Goodnight, Anthony."

You said his name so carefully, he ought to think he was important. Even if the smiles exchanged were bashful, it encapsulated his world.

He retreated to the steps, halting to occasionally look at you before Lucy had gotten sick of his snail pace and told him to bugger off. She had taken her side of the bed when her journal entry for Norrie was finished.

"Is he always that odd?" you asked her, taking the pajamas and heading to the bathroom to change.

The clothes were light, but they weighed much more to you. Who could blame you for admiring a simple shirt and pajama pants? That was your first sleep-over, after all.

Past your ogling, you could still hear Lucy's voice through the door. "Who, Lockwood? Not usually. Suppose he wants to make a good impression."

"Because I'm your highest paying client?" you inquired in a sing-song tone, slipping the shirt over your head. You should have expected the smell of lavender to engulf you.

Lucy snorted, laying back on her pillows. "Because he's a fan, Miss Darling."

"You can call me by my name, Ms. Carlyle," you chuckled, trying to keep your tone even as you examine which way the pajama pants go.

"And you can call me by mine, Miss Darling," she retorted.

When you got your pajama situation under control, you poked your head out of he door. "Touché, Lucy."

She tipped her invisible hat. "I try, Miss Darling."

"Is my name ugly?" You questioned, tone bordering on a sigh. You set yourself down on the vacant side of her bed, planting straight into the pillow on contact. "Just tell me that it is, I won't be offended. Why else would people avoid it like the plague?"

"Miss Darling does sound odd, doesn't it? In my opinion, it's quite regal. You should change your surname to it, honestly. The word just fits you."

You exhaled, catching sight of the stars on the ceiling once more. "And who gave you that absurd idea?"

"Lockwood did," she told you, taking you by surprise. You physically reeled at the fact. "He watched—What was the name of that film again?—Timeless. You played the teenage version of the main character. He wouldn't shut up about the movie for ages, said your character was his favorite. I believe her name was—"

"Darling..." you whispered the same time she said it.

"—and he kept going on and on and on about how you were the epitome of the word. He wouldn't put a stopper on it," Lucy shook her head, recalling his raving vividly. "We couldn't get him to shut up, even while we were off on fieldwork. Eventually, it stuck with us. I couldn't unsee you as 'Miss Darling'. Then the press started calling you 'The Darling of London'. It only proved his case. If there was a word more fitting than 'insufferable', 'Lockwood' would be it."

You believed snorting was the only correct response to that.

"I'm surprised he hasn't fallen over himself trying to impress you," she chuckled. Lucy crossed her arms over her belly, cozying up to her pillow. "Don't tell him I told you though. He might take away my turn in the biscuit rotation. He can be petty like that."

"Sounds childish," you muttered.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Lucy said with a shrug. "He already thinks he's God's gift."

"He's in the good graces of the Daily Gazette. So, he's close enough to it for me," you chuckled.

"Only you would think that." Lucy shook her head. "Go to sleep, Miss Darling. Else you'll have nightmares 'bout him."

"Is that a real warning?"

Lucy shut off the lights. "Yes," she said into the dark.

It was far too late for you. Just seeing the gentle limerence on the ceiling brought your thoughts right back to him.

Unbeknownst to you, Lockwood couldn't put his mind to rest either. Him knowing you were just a stairwell away was an involuntary shot of adrenaline.

—

Amusement parks smelt like burned popcorn and sugar. It was unbearably noisy but the neon lights and the shining attractions negated the cons. Lockwood thought he might just kiss you for bringing them here on a Thursday.

There were enough people to make the place feel alive but it wasn't so crowded that they couldn't get on the rides they wanted to try.

He namely appreciated that fact because Lucy and George didn't look too upset about being out of their element. They looked excited, even. Lucy was glancing at a shooting game and George was oddly fascinated by the horror house.

As if driving them here wasn't surprise enough, you dropped a heavy pouch in each of their palms with the simple instruction to knock themselves out.

After agreeing to meet up before dark, the group broke into three. Lucy went off to win herself a rapier, George was off to scare the clowns in the horror house, and Lockwood was trailing behind you.

"You can do your own thing, Anthony," you reassured, lined up for cotton candy. "I can handle myself in daylight."

"Darling, I'm a gentleman. I can't leave a dame alone in such a vast scape," he replied, bold enough to tap your nose. "What kind of make-believe boyfriend would I be if I did?"

He was amused by the way you rolled your eyes. Lockwood was convinced that only you could make something so trivial so enigmatic. Warmth prickled on your cheeks, turning them the same shade of pink as the cotton candy the store owner handed to you. You ordered one for Lockwood before telling him, "Press isn't here—they'd have to pay the tall entrance fee to enter. At ease, soldier."

"Negative. I'm staying by you—as a very concerned friend," he rebutted with resolve, asking for a brief pause to receive the cotton cone spun for him. "Is that so bad?"

"I thought you three deserved to enjoy some time away from work," you confessed.

You didn't know where to head so Lockwood steered you toward a bench, guiding you with one hand on the small of your back. It took all your effort to keep your expression neutral but you continued to chatter, biting down the urge to grin like an idiot.

The only way you knew how to distract yourself was to speak. And speak, you did. "You're either working with ghouls or with me for you know what. I thought you'd be sick of me by now," you joked.

"Of you? Never."

He said it like it wasn't an arrow straight to your heart, and you couldn't shirk the feeling that you should have prepared yourself better. He was Anthony Lockwood, after all.

Like the heathen he is, took a sizeable bite out of his fluff of cotton candy. In your favor, your attention was drawn somewhere else. His upper lip was crusted in princess pink sugar and he was flashing his princely smile, completely unaware of his mustache. You pressed your lips together to keep your laugh in.

He lowered his head, trying to meet your eyes, to no avail. You screwed them shut and curled into yourself to keep your composure.

He cocked a brow. "Cute as you are, I want to know what are you laughing about."

"Nothing," you said unconvincingly. You took a glance at him and snorted.

With a pinched expression, he looked at himself in the reflection of a metal stall then he rubbed the sugar away with the sleeve of his coat, scarlet tinging his ears.

"Never speak of this," he told you.

You mimed yourself zipping your lips and he nodded, satisfied.

Your composure broke the moment he crossed his arms and hunched into himself like a kid.

—

You'd been to that same amusement park many times in your life. You rode the same rides back when you were a starlet in the entertainment world. You won the same prizes when you wanted to impress your parents. You ate the same food you did when you were a tyke.

All those memories, and none of them compared to experiencing all of it with Anthony John Lockwood. His incandescence weaved into every new memory, leaving his face seared into the back of your eyelids. Even if you tried to deny it, the pain in your cheeks reminded you that you spend hours on end smiling with him or at him.

Despite your best efforts, his presence made you feel something you never expected to feel for anyone. There was no word for it, and you refused to give it a name.

When the sky theatened to turn orange, you snagged his arm and drove him all the way to your favorite ride. Even if you craned your neck all the way, you could never see the top of the ferris wheel. Perhaps Lockwood could, but you were too timid to ask.

The decorative lights looked weak in daylight but it was magical nonetheless. Nothing could complete your day like hopping into your favorite gondola and seeing the park from all the way up.

When you pulled him back, he had to complain. "That one was empty." Lockwood frowned at the dandy green gondola that circled past.

"No, no. We can't take that one, it has to be this one."

Lockwood had never seen so much excitement shine through your usually collected demeanor. It was like a breath of fresh air. He couldn't bring himself to fight you on it.

When the coral pink gondola swung to a stop and creaked its doors open, you pulled him right into its bowels. The interior was vandalized with countless pens and markers. Even in the chaos, he recognized your penmanship. It was messier than it was now but it was undeniably yours. Only you swooped your 'y's that extravagantly.

Someday soon, I'm going to be the biggest star you'll ever see!

Some of the ink was scratched off but the message stood the test of time. He wondered if you remember even writing it, but one glance at you told him all he needed to know. You paid no mind to the vandalism, eyes enthralled by the rising view outside. He felt his cheeks ache from the beginnings of a smile. He forced it down when you laid your eyes on him.

"Just wait 'til we reach the top. The pathways form a giant star if you look down. There's nothing quite like it."

Endeared, he asked, "How did you find that out?"

If your smile was anything to go by, the memory was very fond to you. "The first time I passed an audition, my parents took me up here and told me to look down. I was terrified of heights back then but they told me some things were worth conquering fears for." You let out a seraphic laugh at the memory. "I saw the giant star . . . and I swore that I'd be a bigger star than it one day; that all their sacrifices would be worth it. They did their best to support me and my pipe dream. I would pay back their labor, ten-fold."

"And you did," Lockwood said in an out-of-breath kind of way. You didn't know what to make of it.

"And I did," you whispered in reply. "I even scribbled my promise somewhere in here. I don't remember where exactly. May have been scratched off."

"Maybe," Lockwood chuckled, leaning his side against the wall; hiding your kiddish penmanship from your view. He had no explanation as to why he did, but he'd rather you to focus on the present. You achieved a lot between then and now. He thought it was much nicer to look forward than to look back.

He didn't realize how long the trip to the top would be. The silence didn't feel tense or forced, it was comfortable. Like an air of understanding had made the air warm instead of still.

Perhaps it was you and how unguarded you had become since stepping into the gondola, but all he knew was that your honest heart inspired him to be brave. He took a leap in a brightly painted gondola, miles up from the ground, just about to touch the clouds.

"My family would have loved seeing this," he said.

Your eyes tore away from the view to look at him. Curiosity whirling in those eyes of yours. "Where is your family? I don't think I've seen them. Are they abroad?"

When you looked at him like that, he forgot all his fears. "They aren't around anymore."

Your expression heartened. You turned all your attention to him. "I'm so sorry, Anthony. I shouldn't have—"

"No," he interrupted you, a ghost of a smile on his face. "I want you to know."

Your lips quivered, forming something that was a half-smile, half-frown. "I don't know what to say..."

"You don't have to say anything. I just thought you should know." His eyes fell to his knees, picking at the frays of his coat sleeves to distract himself. "My parents were researchers. They wanted to know what rituals other cultures had to communicate with spirits and keep themselves safe. They were working when they passed away. My sister, Jessica, she was ghost-touched." Everything came out when he was looking directly at you. Knowing you were paying attention was solace enough. "You should have seen the ghost when I was done with him, ha. As for my family . . . Even if they're not around anymore, they continue to remind me of the most valuable lessons. I do my best to never forget."

"Must be why you're so protective of Lucy and George," you said lightly, offering him a sunrise of a smile that brought back the color into the world.

"I am," he said with renewed confidence. "I'd do anything for them."

"Like make deals with prissy, troubled actresses?" you jested, bumping your knee against his.

His lips twitched, threatening a smile. "Yeah." He bumped his knee to yours but didn't move away, content with being close to you in any way you'd have him. "Exactly."

A smile crept up your face. "You have a wonderful family now, Anthony."

"I would say the same but I realize I haven't met them yet."

You threw your head back, laughing. The sound was so precious, he wished he had half the hearing of Lucy to remember it well. "Someday, Anthony. Someday..."

"I'll hold you to it."

The light that filtered in turned yellow, touching your face with gold. The sun was dipping between the far hills and, finally, your gondola had reached the pinnacle of the wheel.

You gently cupped his chin to turn his attention to the view. Your touch made his breath hitch, but the view had successfully stolen the air from his lungs. Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn't have predicted just how breath-taking the view was.

True to your word, the amusement park was laid out in a way that made the pathways draw a star—the stall lights that began to appear accentuated the shape. The stripped roofs of the attractions were like swirling patterns that encircled the the display. For lack of a better word, it was stupendous.

Your voice matched the sereneness of the moment. "My grandparents said that seeing fireworks from the top of a ferris wheel was an experience like no other, but with the Problem and the curfew, we might never be able to see something like it..."

"Wouldn't hurt to dream though, would it?"

You chuckled. "No, it wouldn't..."

Vaguely, in the reflection of the window, he saw your smile. A true, unfiltered smile. It's the brightest you'd ever appeared to him, and it was worlds better than the view you were gawking over.

The magic fizzled when the gondola began to decend, bringing you closer to earth and away from the utopia in the middle of a ferris wheel.

He couldn't recognize you once your mask came back on. Lockwood didn't realize why until he saw a flash of light in the corner of his eye.

The gazette had spilled coffee all over a perfectly good day.

—

!! LOCKWOOD'S DARLING

Recipients, we can confirm that there is a blooming romance between London's favorite Starlet and Lockwood & Co.'s charismatic leader. In the middle of a busy week for both individuals, they set aside time for a romantic ferris wheel ride in Starcrest Amusement Park—an ideal recreational venue for families and couples. See also: additional reports from our inside sources on page 7.

!! A DARLING'S DARLING

Recipients, we have more news on London's most fetching young couple. Both Darling and Lockwood have been growing bolder in putting their relationship in the spotlight. Recent reports state that Darling had invited Lockwood and Company to her film set — a feat of trust we haven't seen from her until she'd been swept of her feet by her latest and only suitor, Anthony Lockwood. He even presented her a bouquet of her favored flowers upon visiting. Backstage photographs from our insider on page 3!

!! A NOT VERY INVISIBLE STRING

Recipients, London's most captivating young couple was spotted wearing matching red-string bracelets, shifting to the 'private but not secret' path in their relationship. However, we always fetch you the ripest updates on their heart-stopping romance. More on page 4!

—

You were more than pleased by the sound of swishing newspaper and the snip of scissors. George had extracted another pretty picture of the recent news and hung it on the wall of achievements.

"Featured on a handful of headlines and it hasn't even been a year," Lockwood said, sounding very pleased with himself. He barely lifted a finger and Lockwood and Co. already had five additional clippings to their wall. "Gazette patrons are calling in to have us take care of visitors with all this media exposure." He set his hands on the stair newel and set his chin on them, looking up at you. It may have been a trick of a light but he was more radiant from where you were standing. "I have you to thank for that."

"You're the one helping me," you smiled. "I haven't heard a bad word about myself or my family. The peace is . . . unsettling. They really are bent on painting you as a saint, Anthony."

"Am I not?" he smiled.

You returned it, just as joyous. "That's the charisma I need for my birthday ball."

That made him straighten and grow brighter, if that were possible. "Birthday ball?"

You nodded, returning your eyes to Lockwood & Co.'s wall of accomplishments. "Lucy and George, too. It's a black tie event, and, yes, you may bring your rapiers."

He tilted his head, jarred. "What kind of people will be in attendance if we're allowed rapiers?"

"The most terrifying kind," you said with exaggerated dread, starting for the door. "Extended family I don't know well and journalists."

He sped ahead, clicking the door open for you. "Petrifying."

"Very," you chuckled. "Can I expect you to be there?"

He leaned toward you and you deluded yourself to believe he was doing so for his own benefit, but you knew damn well that there was a camera in the corner of your eye. Lockwood had caught sight of it before you, crowding you against the doorframe to paint the stomach-fluttering picture of a boy who simply couldn't resist being near his girl.

The idea was far more appealing than it was supposed to be.

His voice sounded saccharine up close. "What kind of flowers does your mother like?"

You titlted your head. "What for?"

"It's common courtesy to gift the in-laws. It wouldn't hurt to be prepared." He grinned at you, and you couldn't help but return it.

"She likes roses, and my dad is a fan of Ferrero Rochers."

"Noted," he chirped. He tugged a strand of your hair lightly before pulling away, taking his warmth with him.

You mustered a convincing enough smile. "Goodbye, Anthony."

"Goodbye, darling starlet."

He should have known you were going to do something. You grew up under the limelight, after all.

You've kissed many boys but he hoped you don't kiss them like you kissed him. Truthfully, it was only a kiss on the cheek, but he'd recall the feeling of your lips at the most untimely moments. He was ghost-touched because he couldn't shirk it.

—

You gave them a plot of the house. So, they did expect your house to be massive. What you did not tell them was the fact that your birthday ball was a masquerade ball. Lockwood was quite struck as he watched people file in with half their faces concealed under frivolously decorated masks. Lucy and George were just as confused.

"You're sure you didn't hear her say anything about this?" Lucy asked, hugging her arms as the evening chill began to creep in.

"Positively. Would I lie about something like this?" Lockwood replied, readjusting his grip on the generous bouquet of roses.

"Lie or not, we have to head in eventually. Unless your girl has a butler or handmaid who'd fetch us," George nipped. It was bad enough that Lockwood had forced him into a suit, but he had to stand in the freezing cold while passerbys walked right into the grandeur of your family's estate. The chandeliers casted gold silhouettes across the shadows. George bet it was warm in there. "Perhaps a visitor will come put us out of our misery."

"Keep your shirt on, George," Lockwood said firmly. "Perhaps having us enter without decoration was her intention."

"Who goes to a masquerade ball without a mask?" George scoffed.

"Lockwood & Co., apparently." Lucy rolled her eyes. She cast a nervous glance behind her but found lanterns had been lit. They smelt of lavender, reassuring her that despite your family's reputation, you weren't ignorant to the Problem. "Shall we head inside or face the treacherous cold?"

Lockwood, thoroughly done with their snideness, promptly decided on the former. He rolled his shoulders back and righted his posture before joining the line to the threshold.

"I see a buffet," Lucy said with new-found energy. Suddenly, the cold wasn't so unforgiving.

"Is that a chocolate fountain?" George inquired. Even if he did his best to keep his tone even, they caught the subtle intonation on the word 'chocolate'.

"Compose yourselves," Lockwood reminded primly. "we are representatives of the agency as well as guests, so, do try to mingle before losing yourselves in the smorgasbord."

"Sure."

"Absolutely."

Lockwood didn't know who said what, but he knew their answers were merely supplementary. They would bolt for the buffet as soon as the made it past the front door. At least their concerns about the lack of disguise were put to rest.

As they neared the doors, the warmth from the inside began to thaw away their frigidness. By the time they stepped into your abode, they were swallowed by the luxury. The word 'cold' didn't exist in a place as decadent as this.

The velvet curtains were pulled back fully, showcasing ceiling-length windows that glimmered with reflections of your guests, . A large chandelier illuminated the ballroom, washing everyone in supple, golden light. It brought out everyone's best features. Even the floor was polished so perfectly, it could have been a mirror.

If he didn't know better, Lockwood would have thought he walked right into a fairytale. He didn't realize Lucy and George had made their escape until he looked behind himself to find them gone.

He didn't have to idle by for very long. Like how sun rays pierce through storm clouds, you parted the crowd. You shone under the chandelier-light, a star put on earth, and you smiled so brightly he had to think you only smile like that for him. Lockwood lost his words, but his mouth was moving.

You were chuckling when you neared. Only when you dodged the roses and leaned on your toes to kiss his cheek did he realize that you didn't supply yourself with a mask either. His earlier guess had been right.

Whatever mirage he was in the middle of was cut through by two more figures coming into view; your parents, most likely. You resembled them a lot.

His joints went rigid but he was experienced enough to project an easygoing energy. All while he repressed bubbling exclamations.

He played on his best smile and reached for your father's outstretched hand. They met in the middle for a firm handshake.

"You must be the lad our little darling speaks so highly of," Mr. Darling chuckled. He had the kind of smile that put everyone in the room at ease. It reached his eyes. He must be the one you inherited your eye-smile from. A nail of guilt hit him right on the head because it was obvious that the man didn't know his daughter's romance was a fad. "Anthony, is it?"

"You're correct," Lockwood said amiably. His smile widened as he watched your mother's eyes gravitate to the bouquet of roses. "Anthony Lockwood, at your service, sir. And ma'am . . . These are for you." He offered the arrangement to your mother, who accepted them with the grace of a royal. You must have inherited that from her. He would have found it adoring if another strike of guilt didn't come down on him.

"How courteous," your mother said, hiding a smile behind her newly acquired bouquet. Her eyes moved to you and you shared a look Lockwood didn't quite understand. His stomach churned. Your mother then shot a peculiar look at him — like she could see right through him. It made his blood run cold.

Lockwood didn't have the option to ponder on it. Your father had seized Lockwood's attention with a firm pat on the shoulder. Lockwood had to tense his back to keep himself from toppling over.

As grayed as your father was, he had the kind of voice that commanded authority. "Don't be coy, boy. You can call us Ma and Pa. If our little starlet likes you enough to introduce you to us, you must be something special."

Lockwood glanced at you, momentarily paused by your smile. "She's the special one between us, sir—"

"Pa," your father corrected.

"Pa," Lockwood rectified smilingly. He wasn't sure what about it made him feel so melancholic and comforted at the same time. "I should be groveling at her feet. I'm very lucky to have caught her attention."

"I like the way you talk. It's no wonder she's so taken by you, Anthony."

Your father surprised Lockwood with a boisterous laugh. He was sure the room tremored for a moment. Lockwood was happy enough to laugh with him, the same time his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

The exchange was interrupted by your mother's squeal of delight. She had found the Ferrero Rochers laying in the bed of roses. She, with bright eyes, brandished them to her husband and Mr. Darling looked positively thrilled by the surprise.

"And thoughtful, too." Your father gave Lockwood the kind of nod you'd only get after you ask for their daughter's hand in marriage. "He's a keeper, little darling."

Lockwood's smile shook. Your mother looked at him strangely once more. He tried to regained himself.

Guilt.

Guilt.

GUILT.

It was drowning him, yet, he kept his cool. (At least, tried to.) You didn't seem to notice the change in his attitude.

You, with your rosy cheeks and resplendent smile, hooked your arm with Lockwood's and said, "I know, pa. That's the plan."

—

"That was not the plan," Lockwood respired, loosening his tie as soon as he stepped into open air. Even when he breathed in lavender, his lungs felt as if they were stuffed with cotton.

You had lead him to a balcony to give him a moment of reprieve only to be met with a glare. So much for being bad at acting, you were convinced his earlier niceties were real.

You regarded him with crossed arms, your cool façade practically a wall between you. "I invited, and you came. That's all that happened here."

"You made a spectacle of me," he rasped, his breath coming out as frost. "I would have been alright with that, but you brought your parents into this. They don't even know you're doing this, do they?"

The way he motioned between you as he said 'this' made you feel like someone's dirty secret. The way you faltered was laughable. Your heart clenched and your nails dug into your palms. You replied the only way you knew how: stronger.

"I don't see what the big issue is, Anthony," you scoffed. "I pay you, you do as I say. What if my parents don't know it's a ploy? The point is to set the stage for the press. I told you that."

"God," he laughed without feeling, raking a hand through his hair. He was heaving like he had just ran a marathon, face turning red. "You don't get it do you? We don't play with people. I don't want to play with people. And that's your family, starlet! Does it not bother you that you are lying to their faces?"

"No, it doesn't," you replied, stoically, standing your ground. "and neither should you. You know I'm doing this for them."

"Are you?" Where you stepped back, he stepped forward. He scoffed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "It's ironic that a whole ballroom of people hiding behind masks are more honest with themselves than you are to yourself."

"What are you implying?" Your words come out through gritted teeth.

He stood tall, more intimidating than you'd ever seen him. The gauntness in his eyes were more pronounced then. His stature made your composure slip. His words made your knees buckle. "You're an actress. You're a professional at what you do. Even in your own home, you have a façade. Maybe you are, in some twisted way, doing this for the sake of your family, but I can't see that anymore. You're stringing them along . . . As far as I can see, you're just as bad as the gazette makes you out to be. I don't even know if you've been lying to me for the sake of keeping your mask on."

You feel the full force of his words drop down on you. Taking a few steps isn't enough to quiet the rush of throughts crowding your mind. All you see is his despondent face and a hundred and one headlines flash before your eyes.

He takes your hand—making you wish the circumstances were different—before he dropped his red-string bracelet into your palm. It felt heavier than it was supposed to. You couldn't pry your eyes away.

When he turned and left, your thoughts turned into white noise. He had taken every joy with him, deserting you in the muted chatter of what was supposed to be a celebration.

—

!! TROUBLE IN PARADISE

Recipients, it is to our sorrow that the couple that took the country by storm, Darling and Lockwood, seems to have called it quits. Lockwood no longer flaunts the bracelet that had started a trend for couples on this side of the globe. It is unknown whether he had lost it during a skirmish or willingly stopped wearing his. With Darling's trail of broken hearts, it's safe to assume the worst. The Starlet seems to be continuing activities, as usual. The ice princess, unmoved by a romance put to the grave. On a lighter note, read more about Lockwood & Co.'s achievements on page 7.

—

The gazette went for the jugular with that one. For once, they wrote something that had some truth to it. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Even your newly developed habit of morning walking barely helped your heartbreak. You've never mourned for something that never was, but, damn, did it hurt. You knew you were in too deep when your feet carried you right to 35 Portland Row.

You stared at the agency plaque for an unnecessary amount of time before you folded yourself over and hugged your knees. At the time, George and Lucy would be out running errands before a case and Lockwood would be arranging their bags inside. Perhaps the security of knowing their schedule made you so confident to sit and wallow the death of what could have been.

Yet, you couldn't mourn that in peace. The silence was interrupted by a shutter. You lifted your head and spotted a paparazzo who didn't even try to hide his presence. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties and already fading. He had a smile on but it set off alarms in your head. You didn't have to ask. You had a feeling. The gazette was all too good at dampening a sunny day.

You stood up quickly but found yourself backed against the wrought-iron gate.

"The Darling Starlet of London... Quite the title. Never thought I'd get to see you in person." His smile widened. You didn't budge. Even with your fiercest glare, he didn't get the message. He looked down at his camera before his smile fell. "Do you know how upset we were when you started going out with that... that pathetic excuse of a human—"

"He's an agent," you cut off. "and he's the reason degenerates like you get to walk the streets without being ghost-touched at every turn."

"Degenerates?" He laughed, covering his mouth. "Oh, Darling Starlet—" The name you found home in was chemical coming from him. "you should know that we made you. He's lucky the chief likes him enough. You'd be nothing without us."

"Without the gazette?" You scoffed, tempted to roll your eyes at the fool. "You do more harm than good."

"But we make or break a career." His hand came away from his mouth, revealing a smile made of pointed teeth. "and what would happen to your folks if your reputation makes a sharp decline, hm? Your father needing all that medicine, your mother taking care of him... What would happen if our little darling turned out to be a little bitch?"

Your anger was boiling over, but the fear of that possibility had crippled you. Words died in your throat. Your will fizzled to nothing. You felt blood drip into your palm, nails clenched into your flesh.

You were still trying to regain yourself when the cold of the gate was pardoned from your back. A familiar warmth replaced it, an arm coming around your middle and a voice that quelled all your fears sounded in your ears. A rapier crossed the distance, severing the neckstrap around the photographer and sending his camera into the pavement. It's lens shattered and the photographer let out a yell.

"If you ever talk to my girlfriend like that again, a broken camera will be the least of your problems."

"Anthony J. Lockwood," the paparazzo snorted. "Your agency hinges on the exposure you get from us. Don't play hero when you know you're defending a sham."

"I'm defending my girlfriend," Lockwood's grip tightened on your hip, and his rapier shined in the light. Your heart did immeasurable things in lieu of Lockwood's doing. "and if you ever threaten my family like this again, I will come after you. The gazette isn't the only publication in London, and I've built a rapport with enough people in the industry to secure my place. I'm not afraid of you."

"You—"

Lockwood turned you around, covering you from view and urging you toward the door. "Head inside, darling. I'll take care of this."

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for resentment or even hate, but found none. His eyes were sunlight through bottles of whiskey. The smile had disarmed you, finally getting through to you.

You took a few hesitant steps before he nodded, assuring you that it was alright. He made sure you were safety inside before he returned his attention to the photographer.

"I do have morals. So, I'll be civil." Lockwood poised his blade. " That said, get off my street before I show you how proficient I am at my job."

—

Some part of you was desperately hoping that things would smooth themselves out after what had transpired. When he offered you his coat before telling you that he'd be walking you home, you knew you were in over your head.

That same night, you flipped the events over in your head. Clenching and unclenching your newly bandaged hand to remind yourself that it was real.

You didn't get much sleep with his voice echoing in your ears and his eyes burned into the back of your eyelids.

—

Your mother must have known something was wrong with you. You mistaked salt for sugar in your morning coffee, you walked into a wall on more than one occasion (a large vase had fallen victim to your daze), and you refused ice cream for the first time in your life.

In the middle of the day, Mama Darling decided that she'd seen enough. She set her knitting things down and urged you to put your book down. You obliged because you couldn't absorb the words anyway.

"My darling girl," your mother started. Her tone is so heartfelt, you felt yourself lax in your seat. A smile came to your face as she caressed your cheek, just as she'd always done. "You've always been such a kind child. So selfless . . . Your only flaw is that you need to know when to let go of your fear and let us handle ourselves, dearest."

You stared at her, lost. She simply smiled, taking your hands in hers. "I know your recent escapades with Anthony were a play, my dear girl." Your spine calcified, heat prickled your eyes. "I always knew. I'm honest when I say he's good for you. He brings out your ugly smile— Don't frown, I mean it in a romantic sense. I know the look of love when I see it, dearest. Don't sacrifice it for pride or fear, my girl. Go get him back."

"Ma," you shuttered, pausing to collect yourself. You were choking on yourself and that wasn't the worst of it. Your vision had blurred from your tears. "you and Pa need me to focus on my career. I have to—"

"No, you don't." She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and swiped her thumb across your cheek. "You'll always be a princess in the eyes of the public, dearest. Any person with two eyes and common sense will see that. You just have to break out of your shell, actually talk to the journalists. Just not the ones from the Daily Gazette—they are something else entirely."

"They are, aren't they?" You manage to laugh through your tears. Only your mother could make you feel these many things at once. She saw right through you. "Right now, Anthony doesn't even want to talk to me. I'm so scared that if I try, he'll tell me everything I don't want to hear. I'm scared he'll see all the nasty things the gazette talked about and hate me for them."

"Darling," your mother said sternly. "we just went over the fact that the gazette is complete and utter bullshit."

You can't help but snort. The rare curse from her had broken through to you. "Sorry, Ma."

"Don't be sorry, my dear girl, be brave." She flipped your hand over and drew lines across your palm. She did it three times before you realized what she was doing; she was drawing stars. "Some things are worth conquering fears for."

The Starcrest ferris wheel. Stolen smiles. Dreams of fireworks.

Your mother smiled at the renewed light in your eyes. She didn't question you as you bolted to the exit.

"Home before dinner! You may bring Anthony!" she called just before you smiled and closed the door behind you.

—

"Lucy?"

"No, this is George."

The world must hate you. You couldn't do much about that. You coiled the telephone wire around your finger as you took a deep breath. "This is... darling."

"I don't know anyone with a ridiculous name like that. Sorry."

You bit your cheek, inhaling the urge to sigh. "The prissy actress."

"Oh. You." He shuffled, crossing his arms. "Speak, before I hang up."

"I have a favor to ask of you," you winced, already expecting the worst.

"What's in it for me?"

You took a breath. "What do you want? Biscuits? An allowance? Access to the VIP collection in the library—"

"All of that, and you have yourself a deal."

"Done."

—

"George— You're usually against room invasion," Lockwood quipped, allowing himself to be dragged up the steps. "and Lucy wouldn't be happy about this."

"When I tell her what I bargained, she'll be fine with it."

"Bargained?"

"Not that important right now, Lockwood. Sit. And for all things grotesque, don't move."

George had pushed Lockwood into the mustard seat beside the attic window. The latter was ready to protest, confusion evident.

A resounding pop had interrupted him. The lights in the room shifted. The shadows stretched and receeded. It took a moment for Lockwood to realize that there were fireworks going off outside.

On the third floor, he had a bird's eye view of the shower of sparks in varying shades of blues, reds, and yellows. He was wondering where the firework show had come from, but his questions were put to rest with a singular look onto the street.

Other than the tins of fireworks, he saw you—looking much like a panicked frog while lighting the fireworks. You looked absolutely ridiculous. His perceptions of you had been thrown to the wind, and he couldn't help but smile.

The last firework burst into pink sparks, lighting up his eyes and your silhouette; embedding itself into his memories. When the air had cleared, he cracked the window open.

"What are you doing down there? Have you gone mad?"

You cupped your hands around your mouth, shouting an answer at him. "Lighting fireworks! You like dem?"

He shook his head, endeared. "How do you even know how to light them?"

"I don't! It was about time I learned!"

"You really are a lunatic..." he chuckled.

You cocked your head. "What did you say?"

"Come in!"

You showed him your thumbs, scuttling to the front door.

Lockwood had never raced down the stairs so quickly before. He apologized quickly to George, who he had almost bumped to ground floor, and Lucy, who had just gotten home with groceries. He raced for the door; hair a mess, breathing short, but smiling widely. He greeted you with the same smile he had on when you first met.

Cute as he was, you couldn't take it anymore. You reached up, fingers brushing his forehead and fixing the strands that had been bothering you for ages.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing you said. You were still heaving from outrunning fireworks but he wasn't in much better shape. "I was scared, and my first instinct was to act like I don't care, but I do. I care so much. About you."

"I got the message," he laughed, looking over your shoulder to the smoke remnants of the showcase.

"No, I'm not done." You took a breath, bracing yourself for it. "I want you to know about me, too. Pa has been sick for a long time. He worked through it so they could afford my commute to and from auditions. The money Ma made was used for medicine or keeping me in school. We struggled for a long time. Some days, I couldn't sleep because I felt so helpless. I wanted to give back to them with every fiber of my being. When I finally could, I never wanted to go back to having nothing. I was willing to do anything to stay where I was—"

"Darling, I get it—"

"—and I lost sight of who I was doing it for. I was so comfortable in allowing anything just to keep a pristine reputation—"

"Darling—"

"—and I hurt you. I never meant to, I'm so sorry. I realize now that I was wrong and I should have been more honest with you because I don't just want to be colleagues anymore—"

"Oh, shut up already."

He bunched your shirt in his fist, pulling you to him with the anticipation born from a thousand dreams. When his lips touched yours, it felt like all of this was worth the wait.

You were sweet and a little smokey, he could have laughed but settled with smiling into the kiss. You stole a breath from him when you nipped at his bottom lip. He could have spent the night like that but the resounding boom from outside made the two of you jump, breaking away from The Best Kiss Ever™ to see the last of the fireworks finish off the moment with golden sparks.

Lockwood couldn't stay upset. After a short laugh, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him right back to you—giving him another kiss to think about for the rest of his life.

—

!! THE COUPLE OF THE CENTRURY, BACK AGAIN !!

Recipients, after a short-lived break, the couple of the century are back—stronger than ever! Various photographs have been taken of them: Dancing in the foyer of the Darling estate, partaking in Mrs. Darling's notorious tea parties, and running away from premiers to steal time for themselves. To see more of them, see page 4!

That was possibly the last good article written about anyone coming from the gazette. Not long after that, they began to be brazen in their attempts to tarnish your reputations. They published photos of the two of you flipping off the photographer, spitting your tongues out at unwanted paparazzi, and spreading the most degrading rumors you had ever heard.

At the same time, the gazette had been losing viewership to London Squire, who was only gaining traction with every article written about the It Couple of Europe. Soon enough, the gazette had lost all credibility; reduced to a mere scandal sheet. It was a breath of fresh air.

The public was enamored by your honest nature and respected the fact that you'd prefer to keep your relationship private. Though, you would be the talk of the town once the Squire got a hold of an exclusive interview.

The topic? Vows, silver rings, and rapiers to cut wedding cake.

DARLING-LOCKWOOD

— It's now official. Our Darling Starlet is off the market after exchanging vows with Lockwood & Co.'s founder and president, Anthony Lockwood. The union took place this weekend in a private ceremony with close family. The couple reveals that the ceremony was grand but they would like nothing more than to keep it to themselves. We are honored that both Mr. & Mrs. Lockwood has given us the opportunity to publish a few pictures taken during their most special day. The writers here at London Squire send all our warmest regards to the newly weds.

The picture wasn't much; Just a scene recreated from the movie that earned you the title of 'Darling'. Even when you shared his name, he persisted in calling you his darling starlet. Though, he takes the utmost pride when he does call you his missus.

NOTE ➺ i don't know if i can get all my 1989 tv songfics done in time but i plan to get them all published before the end of 2023 !

i hope this finds you when you need it. as always, don't be afraid to leave your thoughts in the comments or reblogs. i love to read feedback so don't hold back!!

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[andiatas]

The Waiting Game: The Untold Story of the Women Who Served the Tudor Queens by Nicola Clark (Apr. 25, 2024)

Every Tudor Queen had ladies-in-waiting. They were her confidantes and her chaperones. Only the Queen's ladies had the right to enter her most private chambers, spending hours helping her to get dressed and undressed, caring for her clothes and jewels, listening to her secrets. But they also held a unique power. A quiet word behind the scenes, an appropriately timed gift, a well-negotiated marriage alliance were all forms of political agency wielded expertly by women.

The Waiting Game explores the daily lives of ladies-in-waiting, revealing the secrets of recruitment, costume, what they ate, where (and with whom) they slept. We meet María de Salinas, who travelled to England with Catherine of Aragon when just a teenager and spied for her during the divorce from Henry VIII. Anne Boleyn's lady-in-waiting Jane Parker was instrumental in the execution of not one, but two queens. And maid-of-honour Anne Basset kept her place through the last four consorts, negotiating the conflicting loyalties of her birth family, her mistress the Queen, and even the desires of the King himself. As Henry changed wives, and changed the very fabric of the country's structure besides, these women had to make choices about loyalty that simply didn't exist before. The Waiting Game is the first time their vital story has been told.

[erenspussy420]

WIP Neige and Alhaitham

So I basically disappeared off the face of the earth on most of my socials. I haven't been the best of mind space in a while and adjusting myself over and over.

writing had to take a back seat for a while, but thank you for your patience.

currently writing out old asks in my inbox, an Ace and Deuce fic, the title name and some personal fanfictions of mine for my oc's.

the Al-haitham one is for a trade between me and a dear friend of mine.

Neige is an old WIP of Two Face Pretty Boy:

In the world of acting, one must always be in character to succeed. That was the first lesson.

No one really knows where Neige has come from. One day he just appeared at the orphanage alone and drowning in a sweater too big for him 

From a poor boy who cleaned homes with his seven brothers, no matter if he was human and they from dwarven blood, he worked himself to the bone washing filthy floor boards and defiling rotting gardens. His clothes were always tattered and drowning him in excess fabrics, and hunger gnawing at his belly. But as long as Grum cheeks were full, where Dominic didn't have to scurry for tape when his old glasses fell apart, or worry where Shelpie fell asleep at— whatever it took, no job was too much for him. 

Ebony hair, skin white as snow and eyes like roasted chestnuts.

The day Florian's Wonder Talent Agency recruited him was the day Neige could finally breathe. Taking him and his brothers to a clean apartment, where the fridge is full and he can sleep easier at night.

Before he gets tossed to the wolves.

"I'm gonna treat you like a whore." The sweet voice mutters. It sends sparks running down your spine as Neige sucks down on your neck , leaving his marks for anyone to see. He’s greedy, he wants everyone to know that you were his. Walking around printed on by his lips, his adoration comes covered under the night. As much as he would love your marks on him in turn, his agency would throw a fit at any blemishes on his skin.

.

.

.

..

.

Taking in the beauty of such a realm, far away from the familiar rolling hills of Sumeru. It's been months now that he found himself here in this strange kingdom. A realm, literal worlds away from home— a land where time has mingled with past, present and future. Where those of the highest of nobles, kings and queens and down to society's lowest orphans, had gathered to fight for something beyond skirmishes of land. Even the gods fight by their sides— something he could only dream of.

Side by side, as if they were equals.

Almost. He clicks his tongue behind his teeth, watching the dragons fly freely into the open skies. The glinting eyes of the dark dragon's wings cut through the thickest of clouds, the faint sunlight catches the amethyst scales that marked several eyes leering at him menacingly. Its body ate the sun briefly. The world went dark when he breathed, the dragon known as Grima, dives under the clouds and the world is painted once more. The great dragon disappears with the younger dragons chasing its tail. They dive beneath the clouds in one swoop. Al-haitham loses sight of them. 

‘A realm of possibilities,’ Al-haitham had thought of it. 

[justanotherfangirluwu]

since there’s been a kdrama drought these years, I’ve went back and watched some old dramas AND THEY ARE AMAZING GEMS.

Under the Queen’s Umbrella

This is a story about a mother’s love and how it can take different shapes and forms, though they don’t always necessarily put the child’s best interest at heart. In a place where all the princes and their mothers fight for the title of Crown Prince, the Queen only fights to protect her sons and their loved ones. Think Sky Castle but set in the Joseon era.

The metaphorical use of the Umbrella symbolizes the Queens protection and though she may get hurt, she would never allow her son’s to get hurt.

5 star review: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Flower Crew: Joseons Marriage Agency

The message of the story is that no matter who you are or where you’re from, you deserve happiness. When you find the one you love, the weight on your shoulder eases because you now have another shoulder to lean on and to share the burden.

A common blacksmith is kidnapped on the day of his wedding to become the next king of Jose-on. He recruits the help of the Flower Crew to make the lowly status girl a noble lady to be eligible for the Queen’s selection. New feelings and evil intentions threaten lives and the characters’ happiness.

5 star rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Mr. Queen

A comedic drama that indiscreetly tells the audience that love is limitless - it can transcend time and it is fluid.

A modern male chef is “saved” by being trapped inside a Queen’s body in the Joseon era. He tries to return but in the process changes some events to his modern life and the Queen’s for the better.

5 star rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[minato-division03]

Miku’s Thoughts on Roppongi Division

Kai Quinlan

“Ohhhhh, I haven’t seen Wolf of Shadows-san in a few years. He produced some of my older songs before I got around to self-producing my music. I think we worked together for… I think it was the ‘Night Aviation’ and ‘Poison Rose’ era. He’s a skilled producer and really just a great person to work with. Any current artist is lucky to collaborate with him, he does great work.”

Miku relaxed in her seat, staring into the photograph until her eyes began to lose focus and Kai’s portrait began to become nothing more than a hazy blur.

The hazier Kai appeared, the more clear the images around him became.

Spiraling around him were a cluster of different CDs in various shades of light brown and light blue, like planets surrounded the Sun.

The brown and pale blue makes a lot of sense for a creative guy like him… But blue might be a strange color to have consistently over a long period of time…

Was his aura always blue? Was it…? Come on, Miku, think…

Dammit, I just can’t remember. My memory is ass.

Mireya Quinlan

“Oh, so that’s what his wife looks like. We all live in Roppongi, but I don’t really leave my apartment unless I’m either meeting the team or going to uni lectures, so maybe I’ve seen her around? Maybe I haven’t, I don’t know. I’m still nineteen, so I can’t really go clubbing anyway.”

Much like the gold coins that adorned a belly dancer’s garments, there were a plethora of coins that surrounded Mireya. Most notably, in tangerine orange that circled closer to her body and then gradually fading to a golden, somewhat sparkly yellow.

However, there was a stream of smaller coins that surrounded Mireya’s heart. Bright yellow coins.

Such a common color to have around the heart. But I wasn’t expecting that from this lady. I guess insecurity and the lack of courage can get to just about anyone.

Zakari Hiroya

“Hmm… I’ve been told he’s a stuntman at his mom’s nightclub. And I guess he’s a high school student— ‘part time high schooler?’ What’s that? Oh… I was homeschooled since I was thirteen, I didn’t know that was an option. But I’m still in university and I’m not old enough to be clubbing, so I wouldn’t really see this guy around anyway.”

“What? He was a fan of mine…? Oh…”

Now that she got a second look at the photograph, there were a handful of multicolored die that hovered around him. Mainly in colors of a yellowish honey orange, a more red-tone scarlet-orange, and a pinky amaranth red-color.

I mean, I guess for a stunt person who lives in the edge, having orange as a predominant color isn’t so odd.

Although…

Hidden among the clusters of die were some die that have been broken apart into tiny pieces. Burnt orange, almost terra cotta-colored pieces of destroyed die that hovered around his head like a halo.

She hung her head down. “I’m so sorry I disappointed you all…”

Private Party

“So two Minato teams, an Aoyama team, and now a Roppongi team… That’s four now… Is there something Chuohku wants with this city? Like why allow or recruit so many teams?”

“Her Majesty said this on TV before, but R.I.P Märchen was originally going to represent only Roppongi— cuz Reiaki and I live here. Of course, we don’t know where the Queen Card lives in this city, but her detective agency is in the Akasaka area, so we expanded to all of Minato. So I guess if you’re gonna represent my hometown, you got to give it your all. Of course, you can’t win against us, but please don’t give our hometown of Roppongi a bad name.”

[beardedmrbean]

German prosecutors have charged 27 suspected far-right extremists with planning a violent coup.

The suspects are accused of membership of the fringe Reichsbürger - or Citizens of the Reich - movement.

"The members of the group strongly rejected state institutions and the free democratic constitutional order," according to the indictment.

They are mostly associates of Heinrich XIII Prince Reuss, a Reichsbürger figurehead from an aristocratic family.

Prosecutors have charged the 27 people with planning to overthrow Germany's democratic political system.

Concrete preparations were made for a coup beginning in summer 2021.

The plan was to seize power by invading the Bundestag, Germany's parliament, with a small group of armed personnel. The assault would be launched after receiving a signal, such as the death of Queen Elizabeth II.

The alleged plotters had already determined how their new state would function after the coup.

Prince Reuss was planned to be head of state. On taking office, he would negotiate a peace treaty with the Allied powers which won World War II. Prince Reuss tried to meet representatives of the Russian government to gain support for the coup, according to prosecutors.

Birgit Malsack-Winkemann, then a member of the Bundestag for the far-right Alternative for Germany party, would have been made justice minister. Prosecutors said she granted access to parliamentary buildings to other co-conspirators.

The would-be rebels are alleged to have attempted to recruit soldiers and police officers.

The group had drawn up lists of enemies. Members were aware that their plans would result in people being killed, according to the indictment.

Members were made to sign a declaration of secrecy. Violators would have been executed for high treason.

The suspected plotters had access to about 380 firearms and 148,000 rounds of ammunition.

Some of the accused were arrested in federal police raids last December.

According to the Office for the Protection of the Constitution, Germany's domestic intelligence agency, there are about 23,000 followers of the Reichsbürger movement in the country.

[codename-mom]

Collision (AU)

Summary: A brand-new BAU is forming but there is still someone missing. The team masterpiece: a technical analyst. But one day, Erin Strauss calls Hotch in her office. She may have found the perfect candidate. Or maybe not.

Characters: Erin Strauss, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan

Contents: TW mention of parents death, of drug use and of everything the BAU is working on.

This is a text written for the CM Meet Cute challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins.

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

PPS: Why I add "AU" after the title you may ask? Because I used to write the texts of Code Name: Mom during my first watch of CM. So, when I imagined that scene, I haven't seen the Black Queen episode yet and I worked with the tiny pieces of information we had to figure out their first encounter. Then I saw S09E12 and this text didn't fit the canon anymore. But I still love the dialogue between those idiots and the scene, so here it is.

___

                Erin Strauss pressed the buttons on her landline telephone and, with a few curt words, summoned one of the residents of Quantico’s sixth floor. She hung up as soon as she had gave the order and waited. A few minutes later, a giant in a strict suit framed himself on her doorstep, eyebrows furrowed.

“What is it?” asked Aaron Hotchner as he entered the room.

The two FBI agents glared fiercely at the other, ready to leap at each other’s throats at the first opportunity, but communicated in surprisingly calm tones. She distrusted this man, who was more rebellious than his austere appearance suggested, and he hated being told what to do. Then, the two had been fighting like cat and dog since they first met. Most of the time, however, they both knew how to put aside their differences to get the job done properly.

“Do you still need a technical analyst for your team?” she asked him, matter-of-factly.

“Yes. More than ever. Why?”

The Behavioral Analysis Unit had been founded by two men, Jason Gideon and David Rossi, a few years earlier, with the aim of tracking down sociopaths and other serial killers, in particular by establishing their psychological profile based on the victims they had left behind, but also their modus operandi, the weapons used or even the crime scene. It was a complex discipline, requiring a great deal of knowledge on many subjects, and that was still disparaged.

But the results were there, and Bureau headquarters authorized the two men to expand the team. They had picked up a young federal prosecutor who had assisted Dave on one of his investigations. After a meeting with the woman who would become his wife, the man accepted the offer and flew off to join them. Intelligent, serious, meticulous, attentive to detail and endowed with excellent self-control, the recruit had integrated perfectly into the duo, and his fresh outlook had enabled them to envisage a new shape for the agency.

However, the disastrous conclusion of a business deal and personal worries had pushed Gideon and Rossi, respectively, towards the exit, and they had to entrust the helm of the ship to the last survivor of the crew. Bombarded as director at the age of thirty-nine, he immediately put into practice the plan he had devised for the brand-new BAU. He had recruited a former Chicago policeman with a wanderlust, then added two young people with disparate profiles: a poised, tenacious and empathetic woman who would act as liaison officer, and a multi-graduate student with an elephantine memory but a social misfit.

Nevertheless, the final piece of the puzzle was still missing: a technical analyst. A computer expert capable of probing all databases at lightning speed to extract just the essentials, but also of dissecting all the evidence passing through a computer – video, audio tracks, photographs. A particularly difficult nugget to find, given the scarcity of skills required for this position.

“We may have someone for you, Strauss announced, stepping out from behind her desk. Please follow me.”

Hotch frowned, doubtful, but walked in her footsteps. They took the elevator that had brought him to this floor and went back down a few levels. Then they entered a dull corridor bathed in an eerie silence. This was where suspects apprehended by the FBI were brought.

“Here's her file, continued the section chief, placing the documents on his chest. You'll have time to read it before making your final decision, but I'll give you a summary.”

“Thank you,” he answered coldly.

Without waiting for her to begin, he opened the cardboard sleeve and the round face of a bespectacled blonde appeared at the top left of an annotated sheet.

“Her name is Penelope Garcia, and she's a hacker who's been hanging around on the street more or less since her parents died in a car accident, Erin told him without a hint of emotion in her voice. She was eighteen then, twenty-six now.”

“If you've caught her, she may not be as good as you think," he said, reading the information gathered about her at an angle.

“Or she did it on purpose.”

“What do you mean?” he frowned, raising his nose.

“Hacker’s world is small. They all know that us, CIA, army, etc., we hire some of them because they're ultimately much more efficient than the IT people who are trained for the job.”

Strauss rolled her eyes in dismay at this realization. Using criminals to entrap others was totally beyond her, notwithstanding their often unique faculties. Next to her, Aaron, a man of the field, had a less Manichean view of things. Since he'd been in the business, he'd had time to notice that the men and women they put behind bars weren't necessarily bloodthirsty, ruthless monsters. On a contrary. Between those who'd simply fallen off the wagon due to a string of mishaps, those who'd once let their anger get the better of their reason, and those who'd failed to deal with childhood traumas, it was sometimes difficult to blame the wrongdoers for what they'd done.

                As so, the possibility of integrating a virtual outlaw into his team didn't bother him all that much. Provided he – or rather, she, in this case – has the skills compatible with his project. He turned a few pages to access the summary of her exactions. He discovered a long list of feats of arms that ran across several sheets, both sides. The young woman had wandered from institution to institution, jumping over firewalls as if they'd never existed, browsing here and there, before emerging again, sometimes leaving little messages of thanks. Her targets were highly diversified, ranging from multinationals to ultra-secure establishments, as well as national and even regional companies. However, he quickly noted that there was a common denominator to all her attacks. Except the last one, the one that had dragged her into the walls of Quantico.

“Interesting resume, he said, closing the file. Did she say why she did it?”

“To know the truth about Lady Di’s death,” threw his neighbor, without any conviction.

“You don’t buy it?”

“Of course not. To go to all this trouble just for that, it's ridiculous!" she stormed in a condescending tone.

Unlike him, his superior was a bureaucrat. Where he saw tormented individuals, injured personnel or equipment crucial to the survival of his people, Erin saw numbers, numbers and more numbers. He spoke of efficiency, she replied: profitability. Two discourses that regularly clashed and only served to further inflame their dissensions.

“You would be surprised," he retorted, repressing the sneer that curled at the edge of his lips.

“There she is.”

When they reached a one-way mirror, the agents could see the subject of their conversation in the flesh, without her seeing them. Sitting on a chair behind a table to which she was handcuffed, she faced two men in dark suits who seemed to be pestering her with questions. The prisoner had long blond and supple hair, which had obviously known better days, just like her clothes whose bright colors had been faded by a long exposure to light, dust, perspiration and lack of maintenance. Pale-skinned, with drawn features, she had dark circles under her eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed, she was on the defensive.

“She’s using,” noted Hotch, taking up the toxicology report attached to the second page of her file.

“Not for the past three weeks.”

“Since you captured her, that is.”

Erin nodded, her mouth pursed. Despite the glass divider between the two women, the director found it hard to hide her revulsion. Aaron felt like reminding her that it wasn't contagious, but restrained himself. He preferred to take a closer look at this young woman who, though frightened, didn't utter a word. Drops of sweat beaded down her chubby face and her arms shook intermittently, as if she were cold. On her bare forearms, he saw scratch marks attesting to the fact that she had been frantically rubbing her skin for the past few days.

“She’s in withdrawal.”

“But she's lucid and doesn't crave her fix, Strauss revealed, her tone softening somewhat, which might mean she wasn't all that hooked.”

“You think she let herself be captured to get out of all this.”

“Could be.”

If this was the case, it proved, in effect, that she was aware of how dangerous this activity was, and that she had no intention of getting caught up in this downward spiral, the outcome of which was rarely positive. Whatever she had consumed, she had no intention of clinging to it, but rather was looking for a way to get as far away from it as possible. It was an undeniable sign of intelligence, but Hotch suddenly doubted whether this objective would be successful if she were to accept his proposal. It all depended, in fact, on her strength of character.

“Can I talk to her?”

“Be my guest.”

Strauss knocked on the glass and the two agents inside froze before leaving the room. They said nothing and walked off down the corridor with the same energetic step. Aaron pressed the door handle and entered the padded room.

Penelope, relieved to see the two tough guys leave, tensed as this new guy in a suit and tie introduced himself to her. From where she was, he looked gigantic, and she wondered how he'd managed to get in without hitting his head. Brows furrowed, face closed, dark eyes staring at her unblinkingly, the man seemed to her to have as much emotion as a frying pan. She didn't know anything about the FBI hierarchy, but her instincts told her that this guy was much higher up than the first two. An irrepressible urge to run away jumped to her throat, but she could only shrink back in her chair as he came to sit opposite her.

“What’s your name?” he questioned her, without a hint of animosity in his voice.

Hotch saw the pirate's brown irises dip to the cardboard sleeve he'd placed in front of him, then return in his direction.

“… You have my file, so surely you already know this information," she replied, raising her eyebrows.

It wasn't irony or a snide attack, she was simply reminding him of the obvious. Although impressed by his presence, she wasn't as terrified as she might have been. She was more intrigued than anything. Which was just as well, because he wasn't there to gave her the third degree, but to open the doors to a potential future.

“I know it, yes, but I thought it would be a good start to a conversation.”

His interlocutor observed her opposite for a while without saying a word. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about this agent that set him apart from the others she'd come across. There was no smugness, no repulsion or no malice about him. He looked at her as any human being should look at another. They clearly didn't come from the same world, but that didn't seem to matter to him. And she guessed that behind that icy mask was someone far more sympathetic. The question was how deep to dig to bring it out.

“… Penelope Garcia. You?”

“Aaron Hotchner, he answered with no hesitation. Do you know where you are?”

“Unless the guys who drove me here had fake accreditation, I must be in the FBI basement. Well, in a manner of speaking, since we climbed three flights of stairs from the parking lot.”

She talked a lot and fast, without any stress in her voice. This was obviously her usual way of expressing herself, a sign of a lively, voluble personality. It wasn't very much in line with house policy, but given the position she would occupy – if she were to accept – it wouldn't be a problem.

“… I'm the manager of a rather unusual team, and we need a fast, efficient technical analyst.”

Penelope’s fine eyebrows furrowed. He delivered his speech in an even tone. The man was straight to the point, clear and concise, articulating very distinctly. She let her gaze run over him. Stiff as a stick, clean-shaven, his dark hair was cut short, his fingernails perfectly filed, his tie ideally knotted, his suit tailor-made. If he hadn't been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he had learned to imitate to perfection those who had been so lucky. But unlike the latter, which were often untrue, he didn't seem to want to bother with convolutions and leg-pulling to get what he wanted. A good point for him, from her point of view.

“And you think I will do the trick?" she inquired, curious.

“It depends.”

“Of what?”

“Whether or not you let yourself be captured.”

“What do you think?”

“What I think has no importance. It’s your answer that does matter.”

“Who says I’d tell the truth.”

“It’s my job.”

They had conducted this dialogue at full speed, replying to each other's answers in a matter of seconds, and were now taking advantage of the silence to gauge their adversary. Hotch thought she was testing the waters, gleaning as much information as possible before stepping forward; which was a perfectly understandable attitude. The hacker was in fact trying to assess the danger of the path the agent was blazing ahead of her, trying to project herself alongside this character who used his muscles sparingly. Since he'd come in and taken his place on the chair, the only part of his anatomy that had moved was his mouth. Everything else, from his fingers intertwined on the table to his eyelids, had not wavered. The guy had gone statuesque in a split second. It's a good thing she could see him breathing, otherwise she'd have doubted he was human. Meanwhile, she still didn't know what she might be walking into.

“… What do you mean by “rather unusual team”?”

“My team is responsible for tracking down serial killers, sociopaths, rapists and arsonists across the country, in collaboration with local authorities,” he revealed, direct.

Given what lay ahead, Aaron preferred to be as frank as possible with her. He didn't know how much empathy she had for complete strangers, but from what he'd glimpsed in her file – and from what he understood of the reasons for her actions – she was far from being heartless. But the situations she was about to face were anything but trivial. Which she was beginning to understand, as he saw her swallow and turn a little pale.

“And… what I am supposed to do?”

“Analyze all the data we retrieve, conduct real-time searches on all platforms and databases, probably over several years.”

“Data. What kind of data?”

“Videos, photos, audio files, he continued, you'll see people killed, raped and tortured on a daily basis in conditions you've probably never imagined.”

A leaden blanket fell over Penelope's shoulders. The functions of the FBI were manifold and covered many areas of everyday American life: from taxes to cybercrime, from intelligence to criminal investigations. Clearly, she'd fallen on the hardest branch of all, one on which, had she been given the chance, she'd never have put a foot wrong. Chilled by this revelation, she spoke out:

“Looks like a dream.”

“I prefer to be honest, he admitted without a shudder. It's not about numbers, it's about confronting the worst that humans can do.”

He saw her dodge his gaze, biting her lower lip. Her eyes cocked to one side, she weighed up the pros and cons of his proposal, surely considering what she was capable of withstanding emotionally and psychologically. Her life hadn't been particularly simple, and she'd had to see and experience things that many wouldn't want to endure, but that was no match for what he and his team witnessed day-to-day. At least, he hoped for her. Suddenly, her irises returned to him, escaped, then fixed themselves again on his face. Her mouth twisted like a worm on asphalt. Hotch imagined that she was in the middle of a discussion with herself or preparing her next line, silently rehearsing her words to make sure she didn't make a blunder.

“… Can I ask you something?” she did, blushing.

“Go on.”

“Will I end up like you?”

“Meaning?”

“You're the closest thing we have to an iceberg.”

Aaron had to concentrate to keep his eyelids from widening. He had expected everything but this. He had mentally prepared answers to all the technical, administrative, and legal questions, but had never imagined that he would be attacked on his appearance. He already knew that he had a reputation for being someone devoid of emotion, even frightening, even to the other residents of Quantico, so he wasn't surprised that she thought the same; he was disturbed by this surprisingly brave move. This dirty, ragged little woman had the guts to say out loud what all the feds, here and abroad, barely dared to say in hushed tones. A self-assurance that hits the bull’s eye.

“… It’s the suit.”

He had probably tried to hide it, but Penelope saw the brief sneer that had lifted the corner of his lips. A crack in his shell that made the young woman laugh despite her interlocutor's newfound seriousness. She was right: he wasn't the terror he was trying to make himself out to be. On a contrary. Underneath that jacket, shirt and T-shirt, there was a tender, beating heart; and under that ebony hair, a well-built head that wasn't bothered by convention. And, contrary to what she had expected, she didn't have to dig very far to find the treasure. So she already knew that if she needed him, he'd be there to catch her.

“Okay, she replied, relieved. I’ve got another question.”

“I’m listening.”

“Is there a dress code to observe?”

From his slanted reading, Hotch recalled that, among her personal effects, there was a non-negligible quantity of barrettes, elastics, bracelets, and earrings. Almost all of them knock-off, but flashy and eye-catching, in a wide range of gaudy colors and topped with rhinestones and other frills. A wardrobe choice that didn't fit in with Bureau standards at all, but reflected her playful personality. Then he thought of Strauss, behind the glass, who sometimes felt that appearances were more crucial than results, and a smile formed in his mind.

“No. As long as you come dressed-up.”

Garcia nodded, reassured not to have to wear a sad, bland suit.

“How much time I have to decide?”

“It’s up to you. But while we are talking, know that there are people who need you.”

With that, the BAU director rose to his feet and picked up the file. But he didn't leave the room immediately, as he had just remembered a certain detail.

“And one more thing: if you want to join my unit, you'll need to write a motivation letter. It’s part of the protocol.”

Frowning, Penelope stared at him blankly. He'd told her as if it were a chore, but she already had her own ideas on the subject. The monolith then turned its back on her and disappeared behind the door, leaving the young woman alone to her reflection.

A week later, the agent in charge of mail distribution at Quantico dropped a stack of envelopes on Hotch's desk. The manager thanked him, and he resumed his tour. Derek Morgan had been watching the proceedings in silence and saw his superior pull a peculiar letter out of the pile. Its entire contour was covered in purple glitter.

“What is it?” he asked, curious.

“We’ll see.”

Aaron, who had already guessed the identity of the author of this fold, took out his letter opener and unfolded the mailing. Inside, he found a candy-pink card with his first and last names written in pretty cursive script. He opened it and found two cardboard flaps lined with stars and little shiny hearts, and dancing in the middle, a text traced in glittery ink.

Sir, If you still need someone to kick the bad guys’ asses, I’m your man. Have a nice day. Penelope Garcia PS: This card is home-made.

Surprised, the ex-policeman saw a smile stretch his supervisor's lips. A reaction of obvious joy that he had not at all expected from such an unexpressive man. Intrigued, he questioned:  

“Is it your birthday?”

“No, answered Hotch rising his head. It’s the motivation letter of our analyst.”

[thettrpgtournament]

Why you should vote for each of them and full art below!

17 Chickadee Lane (Dee) (by @sauntervaguelydownward for Monster of the Week)

Dee is a house. A haunted house, though not in the traditional sense of holding ghosts. Many years ago, someone made a deal with a demon in this house, and the infernal taint caused a cascade of violence and tragedy for all who tried to make a home there. Over time, the energy that clings to such places became a sort of sentience, and Dee awoke.

At first it lashed out spitefully at any who dared enter, killing some and driving the rest away. Its historic status as one of the oldest buildings in the city kept it standing, but its cursed status kept any but thrill seekers and ghost hunters from creeping in. One of those was Daniel. The house struck at him, and Daniel said "Sorry." He said "Please." He treated the house like a person with reason and agency rather than a mindless force or a piece of property. Dee let him go, and started looking for a way to venture outside its walls.

It learned that by siphoning energy from humans, it can create a human-like projection. Its essence remains with its foundation, but it can extend part of itself to observe and interact with people outside. The projection has no fixed appearance; it looks like an AI-generated fusion of the last several people it siphoned, and sometimes goes a little blurry around the edges. Despite its view of most humans as parasites who bring misery wherever they go, it found itself growing attached to a little group of them. They are its friends, and that is more important to it than it shows.

Dee’s emotional intelligence is… underdeveloped. Like a small child, it struggles to express or even understand its own feelings beyond “I like this, I dislike that” - but it feels strongly nonetheless. It has seen affection and tenderness in its former residents and desires those things for itself, even as it believes that they always end terribly. It lashes out aggressively at anyone it sees as dismissive or disrespectful (don’t intrude on its personal space - a house takes trespassing very seriously) but it clings to anyone who treats it 'like a person'. Its idea of what it means to be a person is nebulous, but that's what it wants more than anything.

(art by strange_orbit)

Akira (by @myperfecttalia for D&D)

Akira is a transgender drow who has been raised by dwarves since he found himself on the surface at a relatively young age. before transitioning, he was a common thief, selling fake potions and using loaded dice to win small bets every so often. for some cons, he would dress in elaborate costumes, finding his love of performing through the acts he put on. eventually he went from a charlatan to a bard, transitioning along the way and making quite a name for himself. he traveled on a merchant ship with one of his friends, a dragonborn, for many years, keeping the crew entertained with small performances on deck.

when they docked to make deliveries and pick up cargo, he found places to put on extravagant shows for the townspeople and occasionally much larger crowds in stadiums when he was asked to. his performances always involved at least one or two spells, often to set the mood for the songs he was playing. during one of these shows, he was approached by an adventuring party and recruited for an expedition they were going on.

together this group of travelers accomplished many things, most notably killing the queen of the underdark, who was a tyrannical drider, as well as helping one of their party members ascend to godhood

other fun aspects of Akira include: •polyamorous + achillean + asexual •cursed by an amulet with the family crest of the other bard in the party, causing him to grow horns and constantly radiate heat. this makes him very good to have around on cold nights •has a sentient being encasing his left arm. it looks like glove made out of crystals. coincidentally, its name is crystal. it has a built in map feature, like a gps, and other useful tools! •is in a relationship with the bard mentioned above + the dragonborn mentioned above •has a pet dragon

(art by @myperfecttalia)

[tempwork247]

The Essential Guide to Staffing Agencies Tempwork247 and Their Role in NYC

In today's dynamic job market, finding the right talent or the perfect job can be a daunting task. Staffing agencies have become a crucial player in bridging this gap, providing essential services for both employers and job seekers. Among the leading staffing agencies in the New York City area is Tempwork247, which has established a strong presence as a reliable partner for businesses and individuals alike.

What is a Staffing Agency?

A staffing agency, often referred to as a recruitment or employment agency, acts as an intermediary between employers and job seekers. They specialize in matching qualified candidates with job opportunities across various industries, from administrative roles to specialized technical positions. Staffing agencies handle the complexities of the hiring process, including screening resumes, conducting interviews, and verifying references. Their role is particularly valuable in a bustling job market like New York City, where the competition for talent and jobs is intense.

The Significance of Staffing Agencies in New York City

New York City, with its diverse economy and vibrant job market, is a hub for various industries, including finance, healthcare, technology, and creative sectors. For businesses in NYC, finding the right talent quickly can be a challenge, especially in a fast-paced environment. Conversely, job seekers often struggle to navigate the myriad of opportunities available. This is where staffing agencies, such as Tempwork247, come into play.

Tempwork247 has established itself as a leading staffing agency in Queens NY, staffing agency in Brooklyn NY, and a prominent staffing agency in New York City. Their comprehensive approach to recruitment and staffing solutions has made them a go-to resource for many businesses and job seekers across the metropolitan area.

Tempwork247: A Beacon in NYC's Staffing Landscape

Tempwork247 is not just another staffing agency; it is a dedicated partner in the employment process. Here’s why they stand out:

Local Expertise: Tempwork247’s deep knowledge of the local job market is a significant advantage. Whether you are seeking to fill a position in Queens, Brooklyn, or anywhere in New York City, their understanding of the local economic landscape ensures they can provide tailored solutions to meet specific needs.

Diverse Talent Pool: One of the key strengths of Tempwork247 is their extensive network of candidates. They have access to a wide range of skills and professions, making it easier for businesses to find the right fit quickly. This is especially beneficial in a city as diverse as New York, where businesses need candidates who not only have the right skills but also fit well within the local culture.

Specialized Services: Tempwork247 offers specialized staffing services across various sectors. Whether you are looking for temporary staffing, direct hire, or executive search services, their expertise spans a broad spectrum of industries. This specialization ensures that they can meet the unique needs of different businesses effectively.

Streamlined Hiring Process: For job seekers, Tempwork247 simplifies the job search process by providing access to exclusive job listings and leveraging their industry connections. For employers, they streamline the hiring process, from candidate sourcing to final placement, saving time and reducing the risk of making a poor hiring decision.

Commitment to Excellence: Tempwork247 is committed to maintaining high standards in their recruitment process. They focus on understanding both client needs and candidate qualifications to ensure successful placements. Their dedication to excellence has earned them a reputation as a trustworthy staffing agency in Queens NY, Brooklyn NY, and throughout New York City.

Benefits of Using a Staffing Agency

For both employers and job seekers, the benefits of working with a staffing agency like Tempwork247 are substantial:

For Employers:

Time and Cost Efficiency: Staffing agencies handle the time-consuming tasks of recruiting and screening candidates, allowing employers to focus on their core business functions. This can significantly reduce hiring costs and speed up the process.

Access to Qualified Candidates: Agencies often have a pool of pre-screened candidates, which means employers can access a higher caliber of talent more quickly.

Flexibility: Staffing agencies can provide temporary or contract staff for short-term projects or fill permanent positions, offering flexibility to meet changing business needs.

For Job Seekers:

Access to Job Opportunities: Staffing agencies often have access to job openings that are not advertised publicly. This provides job seekers with a broader range of opportunities.

Career Guidance: Many staffing agencies offer career counseling, resume writing assistance, and interview preparation, helping candidates present themselves more effectively to potential employers.

Streamlined Job Search: By working with a staffing agency, job seekers can save time in their job search, as the agency will match them with roles that fit their skills and career goals.

The Future of Staffing Agencies

As the job market continues to evolve with advancements in technology and changes in workforce dynamics, staffing agencies like Tempwork247 are adapting to meet new challenges. The rise of remote work, the increasing importance of soft skills, and the need for specialized talent are shaping the future of staffing. Tempwork247 is well-positioned to navigate these trends, leveraging their expertise and local knowledge to continue providing exceptional staffing solutions.

In conclusion, whether you are a business in need of skilled professionals or a job seeker looking for your next opportunity, staffing agencies such as Tempwork247 offer invaluable services. Their expertise in the New York City job market and commitment to excellence make them a standout choice for staffing solutions in Queens, Brooklyn, and beyond.

[formulatrash]

hi queen, could you maybe give some insight on how you got into the motorsport social media world, for people who are maybe interested in that career?

hello anon, sorry this is probably gonna get long

so the short version is: I was already working in social media for Radio 1/1xtra/2/6 so handling some pretty big accounts etc. after that I wrote additional social content for Netflix shows and then I moved on to some big motorsport ones.

which is a boringly unhelpful answer because 'just already be a producer at the BBC' is not really a career path.

that said, I do know how it works.

the first thing is: social media is a broad genre. you should take some time to work out what kind of social you like making; if you're into graphic design, for instance, that's a social media job but so is writing TikTok scripts or posting as a brand or driver.

I would recommend making some kind of low pressure account and using it to mess around. give yourself a chance to find out what you're good at, if you're not going in knowing - me, I can write and I can produce but I'm not an enthusiastic or quick video editor and graphic design is definitely not my passion.

once you've worked out what you want to do, start at grassroots. there's going to be a point (this is the way with all passion fields) where you have to gain some experience by working for free. there's two ways to do this: find a grassroots motorsport thing (a person, an event, a Formula Student team, whatever) and propose doing their social media. a lot of drivers keep the same social media agency as they go all the way up the ladder (Lando's done this, for instance) so it can be a route to bigger things in and of itself. but most importantly it can get you experienced in negotiating the world of motorsport social media - how to deal with things like broadcast rights and where you can and can't film in a paddock, how to drive engagement and interact with fans, etc.

the other option is to start a project account. something like The Female Drive, which is run by a Sauber engineer. that's a really good example of an account that shows obvious skill in producing social content without creating an unreasonable work burden. the account becomes both something that you own, as its own little motorsport property and a showcase for what you can do. it's a really good way to start getting yourself accreditation or being noticed. on a bigger scale but still coming from that grassroots start, Parc Fermé have made a major success launching their agency like that, due on a major level to Lids' incredible photography but it shows the worth of going down that route and basically creating your own job.

if what you want to do is present TikTok, obviously, then you just need to start doing that and working on improving. make the type of content you want to make - that won't be interviewing Max Verstappen from the outset but you can find other ways to make it work. be creative, use your friends, do the things you'd like to watch.

the third way, which you should not do, is working what should be a paid role. a good (well, bad) example of this is this Formula Nerds recruitment ad that I saw earlier today. under UK law, you can't be a volunteer with responsibilities and volunteer roles, which are actually very regulated, have to be demonstrably beneficial to the holder. it's also just extremely shitty that people ask people to work for free; if your publication isn't making enough money, you do that yourself and you can hire people when it is.

if you want to gain experience in a professional setting, look out for internship schemes. you'll be better placed if you can show them examples of your work, which is why it's good to do that earlier experience but they should be regulated, clearly marked as an internship and paid. motorsport is a multibillion-dollar industry where even at the lowest levels thousands of pounds are changing hands, you do not work for free unless it's for yourself.

some good people to look out for opportunities with are Rosie from 115dgrs, Lois at MP, Revolution Comms, Influence Associates and Pace Six Four.

[rockislandadultreads]

Women’s History Month: More Nonfiction Recommendations

The Barbizon by Paulina Bren

Welcome to New York's legendary hotel for women.

Liberated from home and hearth by World War I, politically enfranchised and ready to work, women arrived to take their place in the dazzling new skyscrapers of Manhattan. But they did not want to stay in uncomfortable boarding houses. They wanted what men already had - exclusive residential hotels with maid service, workout rooms, and private dining.

Built in 1927, at the height of the Roaring Twenties, the Barbizon Hotel was designed as a luxurious safe haven for the "Modern Woman" hoping for a career in the arts. Over time, it became the place to stay for any ambitious young woman hoping for fame and fortune. Sylvia Plath fictionalized her time there in The Bell Jar, and, over the years, it's almost 700 tiny rooms with matching floral curtains and bedspreads housed, among many others, Titanic survivor Molly Brown; actresses Grace Kelly, Liza Minnelli, Ali MacGraw, Jaclyn Smith; and writers Joan Didion, Gael Greene, Diane Johnson, Meg Wolitzer. Mademoiselle magazine boarded its summer interns there, as did Katharine Gibbs Secretarial School its students and the Ford Modeling Agency its young models. Before the hotel's residents were household names, they were young women arriving at the Barbizon with a suitcase and a dream.

Not everyone who passed through the Barbizon's doors was destined for success - for some, it was a story of dashed hopes - but until 1981, when men were finally let in, the Barbizon offered its residents a room of their own and a life without family obligations. It gave women a chance to remake themselves however they pleased; it was the hotel that set them free. No place had existed like it before or has since.

D-Day Girls by Sarah Rose

In 1942, the Allies were losing, Germany seemed unstoppable, and every able man in England was on the front lines. To “set Europe ablaze,” in the words of Winston Churchill, the Special Operations Executive  (SOE), whose spies were trained in everything from demolition to sharpshooting, was forced to do something unprecedented: recruit women. Thirty-nine answered the call, leaving their lives and families to become saboteurs in France.

In D-Day Girls, Sarah Rose draws on recently de­classified files, diaries, and oral histories to tell the thrilling story of three of these remarkable women. There’s Andrée Borrel, a scrappy and streetwise Parisian who blew up power lines with the Gestapo hot on her heels; Odette Sansom, an unhappily married suburban mother who saw the SOE as her ticket out of domestic life and into a meaningful adventure; and Lise de Baissac, a fiercely independent member of French colonial high society and the SOE’s unflap­pable “queen.” Together, they destroyed train lines, ambushed Nazis, plotted prison breaks, and gathered crucial intelligence - laying the groundwork for the D-Day invasion that proved to be the turning point in the war.

Heiresses by Laura Thompson

Heiresses: surely they are among the luckiest women on earth. Are they not to be envied, with their private jets and Chanel wardrobes and endless funds? Yet all too often those gilded lives have been beset with trauma and despair. Before the 20th century a wife’s inheritance was the property of her husband, making her vulnerable to kidnap, forced marriages, even confinement in an asylum. And in modern times, heiresses fell victim to fortune-hunters who squandered their millions.

Heiresses tells the stories of these million dollar babies: Mary Davies, who inherited London’s most valuable real estate, and was bartered from the age of twelve; Consuelo Vanderbilt, the original American “Dollar Heiress”, forced into a loveless marriage; Barbara Hutton, the Woolworth heiress who married seven times and died almost penniless; and Patty Hearst, heiress to a newspaper fortune who was arrested for terrorism. However, there are also stories of independence and achievement: Angela Burdett-Coutts, who became one of the greatest philanthropists of Victorian England; Nancy Cunard, who lived off her mother's fortune and became a pioneer of the civil rights movement; and Daisy Fellowes, elegant linchpin of interwar high society and noted fashion editor.

Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly 

Before John Glenn orbited the earth, or Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, a group of dedicated female mathematicians known as “human computers” used pencils, slide rules and adding machines to calculate the numbers that would launch rockets, and astronauts, into space.

Among these problem-solvers were a group of exceptionally talented African American women, some of the brightest minds of their generation. Originally relegated to teaching math in the South’s segregated public schools, they were called into service during the labor shortages of World War II, when America’s aeronautics industry was in dire need of anyone who had the right stuff. Suddenly, these overlooked math whizzes had a shot at jobs worthy of their skills, and they answered Uncle Sam’s call, moving to Hampton, Virginia and the fascinating, high-energy world of the Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory.

Even as Virginia’s Jim Crow laws required them to be segregated from their white counterparts, the women of Langley’s all-black “West Computing” group helped America achieve one of the things it desired most: a decisive victory over the Soviet Union in the Cold War, and complete domination of the heavens.

Starting in World War II and moving through to the Cold War, the Civil Rights Movement and the Space Race, Hidden Figures follows the interwoven accounts of Dorothy Vaughan, Mary Jackson, Katherine Johnson and Christine Darden, four African American women who participated in some of NASA’s greatest successes. It chronicles their careers over nearly three decades they faced challenges, forged alliances and used their intellect to change their own lives, and their country’s future.

[havendance]

Okay, askgame AU suggestion:

Helena joins Checkmate not Birds of Prey AU HOWEVER alongside both Helena and Sasha being there we also add Cameron Chase being transferred over and Kate Spencer

Helena gets recruited to join a Checkmate that is in the middle of upheaval. Lex Luthor just went evil in front of everyone and blew up or whatever and there is a new president in the whitehouse who has to figure out what to do with his new billion secret agencies which are also filled with people that Luthor probably installed. This results in a massive shakeup that leads to Cameron Chase joining Checkmate and she brings Kate with her as an operative/contact or whatever.

Helena was initially frustrated over being forcibly recruited into Checkmate, but over time she comes to have an appreciation for what's she's doing. In Checkmate, she is a queen. The organization can use all the skills that Batman looks down on her for.

Checkmate has a number of knights in this incarnation. Cameron Chase is a knight. Sasha Bordeaux is a knight who is specifically assigned to Helena's queen.

Um, they do cool spy things together and totally kick ass. Things are going well until the president changes again and there's a whole new level of shakeups in the organization.

Now there are two branches: Black and White for domestic and international metahuman interests. Helena's on the Black side. She's operating opposite a new Black King: Maxwell Lord. The people she's grown close to are all scattered now. Cameron's a white knight now, and Sasha was re-assigned to the Black Queen so Helena has to learn to work with her new knight.

Anyway, something's up and they all come together to investigate/work against Maxwell Lord etc etc.

[shiningwonderland]

Camus (All Star) Memorial

Translator: Mimi (Twitter: _mimisaurora)

Memorial 9 - Forcibly Recruited

“He will be… coming through here soon.”

I checked the time using my pocket watch as I hid myself behind one of the building walls. 

I thought over the information I had already verified many times once again. 

My target's name was Shining Saotome. 

His real name, age, and most other details remained unknown.

Her Majesty the Queen had assigned me the mission of finding the man who visited the Silk Palace nearly ten years ago.

And to confirm that he and Mitsuo Saotome are the same person.

As soon as it is established that Shining was indeed Mitsuo, a new order would be given to me by Her Majesty.

However…

I initially believed this would be an easy assignment, but the target's profile had been thoroughly redacted.

It was said that a person was taken out for even trying to know that name.

“You are not a native of our country, and yet you hide your name…”

Saotome supposedly made a living singing, dancing, and acting a fool.

For what reason would such a man, who is not of noble birth, hide his name?

“Now the only way forward is to approach him personally.”

I was going to pose as a fan and attempt to get his attention, expecting him to emerge soon from the building in front of me.

That was my plan. 

The setup was that a foreigner has come all the way to Japan to meet Shining Saotome. 

I knew that "idols" are not to easily dismiss those who claim to be fans.

I checked my outfit once again. 

A plain T-shirt and jeans.

While reluctant, I dressed myself as an ordinary citizen would in this country.

This should not raise any suspicions.

The way I speak to him should be polite.

People in this country use different words depending on the context, which made things tricky.

I had only learned Japanese just before I came to Japan, so it was still rusty in some places, but it shouldn't have negatively impacted the mission.

“Your Majesty… I swear to get you the information you wish to see.”

Her Majesty often wore a miserable face, but she always looked so happy when talking about Saotome.

Although she never shared why, I supposed he was someone very important to her.

“... No matter what.”

That’s when there was a sudden commotion coming from the area where Saotome was scheduled to exit the building from. 

All I could hear was a chorus of high-pitched screaming.

“What….?”

I had not anticipated this. 

I quickly surveyed the scene and quickly assessed the situation. 

Sure enough, Saotome appeared from inside the building.

The problem being…

It was not only Saotome, but also other idols from the agency with him.

“Kyah!! Ryuya!”

“Ringo-chan’s here too! Look this way!”

A foolish crowd of people swarmed around Saotome and his colleagues, shrieking and yelling.

“...What a pain.”

This will prevent me from approaching the target.

“You lot… get out of the way.”

“The hell. You shut your trap!”

“Wha… You animal.”

I gripped one of the women by the shoulder, but as she turned to look back, I was dealt a blow with an elbow to the side of my abdomen.

I stopped breathing for a second and fell to my knees.

“Guh… How dare you attack me…”

I thought about giving her a rude surprise right then and there, but the woman in question disappeared into the crowd, squealing and giggling. 

I quickly reminded myself that this was not the time to get involved with someone so insignificant.

The enthusiasm resembled that of a festival. What was there to get so excited about when anyone could watch any number of "idols" on TV?

“Grr… What to do…”

Hundreds of "fans" have Saotome and his group surrounded so closely they can't even be seen from here.

So what shall I do? Retreat from here for now…?

However, Saotome's schedule also remains a mystery.

He even often takes last-minute unscheduled activities, as if on the lookout for any attempts on his life.

If I miss out now, who knows when the next opportunity will arise to approach the target.

“Fine. Until I overcome every obstacle.”

I am not one to back down from something like this. 

But I would also prefer not to try to fight through this crowd of fools.

So in this case.... I will go up. 

I ran my eyes over to the building beside me. 

There was a fire escape on the side facing this way.

I wasted no time in ascending the stairs. 

I jumped up with the momentum of putting my hand on the handrail. 

The building was not very tall, so after repeating the process a few times, I soon reached the rooftop. 

If I leaped over to the next building, Saotome and his crew would be directly below me.

“It doesn't matter how far you go to keep yourself surrounded, it's futile if you keep your top open... Saotome.”

I leap forward and free-fall to land directly behind my target.

My sudden appearance startles and elicits a different kind of scream from the people around us.

“EH!? W-What’s going on!?”

“Someone dropped down…!?”

“Pardon me, Miss.”

I shut her up by turning around and offering her a smile.

Once I'd caught my breath and straightened my disheveled hair, I turned to my target once again.

“Good afternoon.”

The idols standing next to him stood there dumbfounded.

Why are those bastards looking at me like that?

The only one who didn't seem to be fazed in the slightest was Saotome.

As expected of the man whom Her Majesty cared about.

“You’re Saotome-san, right?”

I spoke with a smile, and the tall man by Saotome's side interrupted me by stepping forward.

“Wait… Who the hell are you? What business do you have with the president?”

He held a fierce gaze. I was sure that this man was an idol, but he probably doubled as a bodyguard as well. 

I replied with a smile, maintaining my distance from him.

“I’m terribly sorry. I would like to talk, not to you, but to Saotome-san. That's Mitsuo Saotome-san, correct?”

I called him out and sought his response.

Well, how do you respond?

“What~? I’m Shining Saotome. Maybe you've got the wrong guy?”

Saotome twisted his head around quizzically.

He showed not the slightest indication he was upset. 

I knew he was no ordinary person.

“But…”

Saotome nagged his thick finger at me as I was about to go on the offense. 

“It’s impolite to ask for a name without providing yours first? Understand, BOY?”

“Calling me a boy… is rude.”

I recognize I am young, but I am still an established earl.

It is disgraceful to a nobleman to be underestimated as a young man.

“Are you not a boy? Then who exactly are you?”

“Hmph.”

I adopted a formal demeanor and announced with dignity.

“If you ask, I shall answer. I am Earl Camus, valiant and proud sword of the Silk Palace!”

Then, surprisingly, there was commotion in the background.

“What’s this? A drama?”

“An impromptu performance in a place like this?”

“Huh? Is this guy a foreign talent?”

“Ah, he’s super cool!”

The crowd of fools began to squeal once again.

…What’s so entertaining about this?

Saotome continued to maintain a nonchalant attitude and shrugged his shoulders.

“OH. So you’re an Earl. It is an absolute honor, however, speaking to me without an appointment first is a no-no.”

He cheerfully but mercilessly announced and turned his back on me.

Great.

“Is that so…. But I am a big fan of yours, and have traveled all the way from my homeland just to meet you….”

I slumped my shoulders and as he was about to walk away, watched as his back tensed.

Heh… all according to plan.

The foolish people who surround us would be grateful for such an opportunity. 

In the presence of so many people, it would be impossible to neglect me now.

“Hm? A fan…?”

Saotome turned around and lifted up his dark-tinted sunglasses.

“Hmmmmmmm.”

He brings his face close to mine, sizing me up.

“W-What…”

I momentarily flinched and his lips parted in a grin.

“Or… what you’re trying to say is… you want to be an idol like me!”

…Huh?

“A huge fan of mine is going out of his way to become my protege…. I'm impressed!”

Saotome's huge hands gripped mine.

“Wow! How wonderful! The Shining Agency’s first foreign talent! I welcome you with open arms!”

The woman next to Saotome bounced happily, and the crowd around began to make a fuss again.

“Hold on. What’s going on?”

“He just showed up and volunteered to be his apprentice.”

“His drive is amazing! Such a beautiful guy would do well in Japan, don't you think?”

“I’ll be his first fan!”

“N-No! Absolutely not!”

“Nice timing! The age of globalization is upon us! I was just thinking that our office could use new talent from outside of Japan!

“I don't give a damn about your affairs!”

“Hmmmmm. But you’re already here.”

A broad smile broke out on Saotome's face.

I had such a bad feeling about it that it sent chills down my spine. 

For me to be so afraid…

“YOU, can you sing?”

“O-Of course… There's nothing I can't do.”

“Yes, good, that is very nice!! You should also grow your hair out! And wear a suit too!”

Saotome, despite my being upset, kept going on and on.

“I cannot, however, serve anyone but Her Majesty the Queen…”

I had no idea at the time that Her Majesty would be so supportive of my joining the agency.

“....Sigh.”

I let out a heavy sigh unbecoming of a nobleman, looked up from my open book, and scanned the backstage area.

From then on...

I thought that Her Majesty would obviously disapprove of this.

However, after being ordered to join the agency and look for information on Saotome, it was impossible for me to disobey

In the end, I ended up becoming the first foreign idol to be affiliated with the Shining Agency.

And… a few years passed.

I discovered Saotome's true identity, including a memento belonging to Her Majesty, and acquired most of the information I needed.

My duty has now changed to that of security service.

The directive has changed, but I am still part of the agency. 

But ...

When looking around, one is left wondering if this is really an idol agency.

They were all a colorful assortment of entertainers. 

There was a person who dressed themselves as a woman, a fried chicken guy, a man pretending to be a rocker and someone who I was sure wasn’t even human…

I sighed, ripped open the bundle of stick sugars with my hands and quietly poured them into my coffee cup.

“Am I… the only sane one here?”

…Why are they all staring at me at once?

[juliiwrites]

Currently Watching

911 | season 4 episode 12

Abbott Elementary | season 1 episode 6

Beef | episode 3

Daisy Jones and the Six | episode 5

Girls5Eva | season 1 episode 4

Grace and Frankie | season 6 episode 11

Platonic | season 1 episode 7

Strange Planet | season 1 episode 5

The Magicians | season 3 episode 8

The White Lotus | season 2 episode 4

Wedding Season | episode 4

Currently Re-watching

Friends | season 10 episode 6

Hacks | season 1 episode 7

Modern Family | season 5 episode 12

Sherlock | season 1 episode 2

The Office | season 9 episode 9

Watchlist and Finished Series are underneath the cut 🤗

Watchlist

911 | seasons 2-5

Abbott Elementary

After Life

Agent Carter

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D

Always a Witch

American Gods

Anxious People

Arcane

Atlanta Medical

Babylon Berlin

Bones | seasons 11-12

Breaking Bad | seasons 2-5

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina | seasons 3-4

Crashing

Damaged Goods

Der Tatortreinger | seasons 2-7

Desperate Housewives | seasons 5-8

Dexter | seasons 6-8

Downtown Abbey | season 3-6

Dr Who

Dynasty | seasons 3-5

Elite

ER | seasons 2-15

Extraordinary

Fakes

Fleabag

Flora and Son

Girls

Girls 5 Eva

Glow

Grey’s Anatomy | seasons 12-19

Heartstopper | season 2

House of Cards | seasons 3-6

House of the Dragon

How I Met Your Father | season 2

How To Sell Drugs Online (Fast) | seasons 2-3

It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia

Jack Ryan | season 3

Jerks. | seasons 3-5

Kaulitz & Kaulitz

Little Fires Everywhere

Loki | season 2

Love

Love & Anarchy

Marvellous Mrs Masel

Money Heist | parts 3-5

Mythic Quest

Narcos

Never Have I Ever

Not Dead Yet

Once Upon A Time

Outlander | seasons 3-5

Ozark

Parks and Recreation

Parlament

Partner Track

Peaky Blinders

Platonic

Queen Charlotte

Ragnarok | seasons 2-3

Roar

Rick und Morty

Riverdale | seasons 6-7

Scandal

Scream Queen

Selling Sunset | seasons 6-7

Selling the OC

Seven vs Wild | seasons 2-3

Sex Education

Shadow & Bone | season 2

Space Force

Special | season 2

Stranger Things | I’ll only watch once the series is wrapped

Succession | seasons 3-4

Superstore

Sweet Magnolias

Ted Lasso | season 3

The Bear | season 3

The Bold Type

The Brothers Sun

The Diplomat

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

The Flight Attendant

The Gentlemen

The Gilded Age | season 2

The Good Fight

The Great

The Handmaid‘s Tale

The Last of Us

The Morning Show

The Mandalorian

The Resident

The Rings of Power

The Witcher | season 4

This Is Us

Tiny Beautiful Things

Valeria

Wedding Season

Workin’ Moms

Finished

Arrested Development

Baymax!

Below Deck

Below Deck Mediterranean

Bluey

Bridgerton

Brooklyn 99

Champion

Community

Criminal

Cunk on Earth

Daredevil

Dash & Lily

Dead to Me

Derry Girls

Die Schwarzwaldklinik

Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency

Doctor’s Diary

Don’t Fuck With Cats

Emily in Paris

Fate: The Winx Sags

First Kill

Friends

Game of Thrones

Get Even

Gilmore Girls

Golden Girls

Good Omens

Good Witch

Gossip Girl

Grey’s Anatomy | season 1-12

Hacks

Half Bad: The Bastard Son & The Devil Himself

Heart of Dixie

Heartstoppers

How I Met Your Mother

IKEA Heights

Iron Fist

Jane the Virgin

Jessica Jones

Jury Duty

Killing Eve

Luke Cage

Lupin

Loki | season 1

Modern Family

New Girl

Obliterated

Only Murders In The Building

Please Like Me

Pretty Little Liars

Rebel Cheer Squad

Santa Clarita Diet

Schitt’s Creek

Sherlock

Shrinking

Soundtrack

Supernatural

Superstore

Teen Wolf | season 1-4

The 7 Lives of Lea

The Actress

The Afterparty

The Bear

The Big Bang Theory

The Buccaneers

The Circle

The Defenders

The Mole

The Night Agent

The Office

The Queen’s Gambit

The Recruit

The Sandman

The Umbrella Academy

The Vampire Diaries

The Witcher

Tiger King

Too Hot To Handle

Treason

Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt

Unnatural Selection

Wednesday

Westside

You

I will not watch

American Horror Story | … horror isn’t my genre, but I have heard only great things about this series!

The Boys | I know, I know, the hook is great and the series is supposed to be amazing, but I’ve seen the very first scene and did not expect it 🙈 it really shocked me so I might need a while to get over it.

Law and Order SVU | I have tried watching it but I cannot stomach it

[paledeep]

I have so many thoughts about the princesses.. I love that Snow White and the princesses are ultimately very selfish about their goals. To have little to no agency and then choosing this radical, terrible act to end everything for everyone because living knowing things were different for a very long time scratches my brain nicely.

I wonder if they’ve tried recruiting different princesses who’ve disagreed with their thoughts and they have had to remove them like the Ice Queen. There’s some very interesting things to think about.