#my (dark's) pride as a phantom thief

[dnangelic]

blasts him with a splattershot. not this time, phantom thieves.

@mielmoto

HEY . UNGUNK ME RIGHT NOW

[twistedtummies2]

You…don’t know what it’s like to drown away,

In a puddle of shame.

And You…yes, You…

Made me INSANE!

But not anymore!

I’m in control!

I have the stage,

You can’t turn the page!

Now, do as you’re told!

(Encore! Hit the Beat, Boys!)

Focus on me!

I’ll be all that they see!

I’ll make ‘em sway!

No, can’t run away!

Now, All Eyes on Me!

All Eyes On, ALL EYES ON ME!

“All Eyes on Me,” Caleb Hyles (Cover)

----------------------------------------------------------

Unlike the other characters in this series, Eli’s inspiration doesn’t really have any songs to speak of. If you know what the lyrics/song above reference, then you’ll probably know a big part of why I chose it to represent Elias Inque and the Phantom Blot for my “OCs & Inspirations” series. This image of the bunch was made by @foalette.

Although he’s the third major OC I introduced, I actually had ideas of creating the character who would become Elias very early on, when I realized the whole concept of “Overblot” in Twisted Wonderland was a reference to one of my favorite unsung villains in Disney: the Phantom Blot. The Blot is a character who is typically only known to the most ardent Disney aficionados. This is mostly because his “mainstream” appearances are rather small: the character got started in Disney comics, and that’s where most of his best appearances are known. Over the years - much like another famous Mickey Mouse enemy, Pete - the Blot has been reimagined and reworked for various interpretations; he’s been a Vampire, a Dark Wizard, a Magic Thief, the list goes on.

When I decided to create an actual Phantom Blot character, I decided to use that sense of history to my advantage, by suggesting there had been MANY Phantom Blots over the centuries in the universe of Twisted Wonderland. (Ever since the revelation of actual “Blot Phantoms” in-canon universe, I now headcanon they must have gotten their name in homage to this legendary figure.) Elias is the official new Phantom Blot, who has taken on the mantle himself. I decided to mix elements of both the Classic version of the character - a shadowy and yet totally over-the-top masked supervillain, pictured here - with arguably the most famous incarnation of the character, the one found in the game “Epic Mickey,” where he’s depicted as a near-demonic ink monster who wishes to consume and destroy everything in his path. Elias’ theatricality, pride, and his identity as a dog demi (the Classic Blot is an anthropomorphic canine beneath his mask) all came from the former, while his inky powers and gluttonous/predatory appetite were in homage to the latter.

I haven’t had a chance to use Elias a whole lot, but I do really love my melodramatic dog boy. Along with elements from different takes of the Blot that have appeared over the years, I also injected a lot of myself, and of some people I know personally, into the character: Elias is sort of the ultimate “theatre kid,” in a lot of ways, and so it’s fun to play him because I can understand what makes him tick a little better than some of my other guys just right off the bat. 

Foalette did an AWESOME job. This is honestly even better than I expected it would be. I love the little hidden Easter Eggs in the background, and how the Blot is drawn almost like Elias’ shadow, and is made to look more threatening. Ironically, Eli himself was the thing that changed the least throughout the process…and for good reason. You can hardly improve on perfection. ;)

[musedriven]

@dnangelic memed // ❝ you’re all puffed up on your own arrogance…drunk on your own pride. ❞ also one for krad from dark i think he deserves attn too

why shouldn't he be proud? he is the crown jewel of the Hikari's artowrks. and was it not hypocritical of Dark to speak in such a way? the great phantom thief accusing him, a deity who's name was kept only for his worshipers to speak, of arrogance? he knew exactly who he was, so why should he pretend otherwise for some mortal who would only fade in time while he remained eternal. how utterly ridiculous...

" and you think yourself so different when you are the one who parades yourself for the public. longing to be worshiped by the masses. we are their greatest creation; why should we fool ourselves into believing we are anything but? " he could have laughed he was so amused by the whining of a lesser god. he could not wait for the day they became one again and truly were able to shine as the Hikari's originally intended. " the blood of the Niwa family has tainted you, my other half... "

[espectres]

' if you disappear ... ' a pause. hesitant. ' if things get really bad, can i ... come find you? ' the phantom thief and the vanishing, invisible boy. dark and his lucifer pride had long crowed in an exhilarated confidence: anything can be stolen, everything can be stolen away. if it came down to it, we'd steal even a vortex of light. but it's daisuke that simply stands before shou, hoping to dedicate himself despite his usual bashfulness, a reluctance to perhaps somehow overly-impose. ' i don't mind if you come and go. but if you're ever gone for longer than usual, shou-kun, then --- as a friend, i'm going to worry. so ... please. ' his gaze sets downwards just a little. ' we won't even have to talk, not unless you want to. i just don't want you to feel like you have to bear all sorts of things by yourself. even if you don't accept it, shou-kun ... i always want to be here for you. okay? '

IT SINKS TO THE PIT OF HIS CORE, but it doesn't die, something stings lively and Shou is certain that it's guilt and it has always been there. It bleeds when his mother hugs him a little too tight after long weeks with no contact, it flares like a wound when Fukuda looks at Shou's own injuries as though they were caused by Shou himself on someone innocent, like a crime worthy of punishment. It tugs now, however, like a thick rope knotted around his heart, too tight it burns with every slight movement, warping the heart that beats a little too loud, with every smile so bright it's angelic, with all the worry in these dawn-kissed eyes.

Being seen has always been difficult, but it has also been relieving in such confusing ways.

❝ No. ❞ He doesn't stammer, he doesn't hesitate, there is nothing not perfectly level about him, nothing except for all the longing, except for all the care that he feels, it makes his heart so close to bursting. But it hides so well, it always does, in the large shadow of self-imposed responsibility, and the heavy brickwall of indifference- selfishness, in the way he completely sure that his words must hurt, in the way he's is so ready to harm if it means he gets his way with things. ❝ I won't let you do that. ❞ I can't. 

❝ Look- ❞ He starts carefully, inching closer, features tightening as blue eyes grief the lack of contact, it's crazy how much he's missed it. And it's crazy how much he's missed Daisuke, he realizes maybe that's why the guilt behind his absence felt a little too much, maybe that's why he is so relieved, knowing that someone so beautiful inside and outside has been thinking about him, even if it's not the same way, even if he doesn't even deserve it, and he certainly doesn't. ❝ Daisuke, I trust you, I really do. ❞ More than anyone, more than anything.

And he tries to explain himself, even though he's never felt the need to do such a thing before, driven by his desire of freedom and his lack of remorse, but none of that could even matter here, and it's so new and strange and he's left to be flimsily defensive against the other's bare heart. ❝ It wouldn't be fair to just lump you into my shit, and it's not that bad anyway, it's just the way things are, you don't have to worry about it. ❞ Not as bad as it has been, but Shou doesn't need Daisuke to know that, and Daisuke needs to stay safe, because Shou wouldn't know what to do if anything were to happen to him, and the rawness of his emotions almost scares him. 

❝ You're just gonna have to trust me. ❞ He smiles with ease, willing to reassure the other despite the fear and confusion and secrets, despite the selfishness of it all and the threatening pounding of his heart as he raises a hand, lifts Daisuke's chin with an encouraging nudge to look him straight in the eye, to allow the thief to see through him and find nothing but affection gleaming without a hint of bashfulness. ❝ You're already more than enough. ❞

[v1ctory-or-sovngarde]

Sanctuary

August 8th of @tes-summer-fest ➽━━❥ Prompt: mortal or sanctuary ➽━━❥ AO3 link Notes: ~2k words. Not me making a second tesfest piece about a player home...I just feel strongly about them 😭 Anyway, I present to you: two gal pals enjoying the safety of the dragonborn's luxurious home. Elvira belongs to my bestie. ♥ You can see art of them both here.

The rain came down just before they reached the bronze doors of Vlindrel Hall--the dragonborn's personal sanctuary. Elvira scrambled into the safety of the entryway, shaking water off her whiskers with a huff. Phantom reached out to pull her closer, chuckling. Thunder boomed in the distance as the rain steadily began to increase.

“It’s only a little rain,” she rumbled.

“I don’t like it.” Elvira squirmed, sulking as she glanced up at her.

“You are so delicate.” Phantom brushed some water off Elvira’s hood and turned to unlock the doors. “Don’t worry. Plenty warm inside. I have a person who takes care of the place when I am gone.”

The doors unlocked with a heavy clunk. Phantom hauled one open and held it, gesturing for Elvira to go first. The smaller khajiit ducked her head while walking past. Phantom followed, shutting the door behind them. She could feel her heart flutter with pride--she would finally get to invite her into her life. There were so many things she wanted to show her, to give her. She sent word to Argis to come clean and cook before they arrived, and gave him extra money for the butcher. He promised them the best lamb they would ever taste. After fighting a dragon, she was ready for every bite of it.

Firelight glinted off Elvira’s sleek black fur as she pulled the hood of her cloak down. She shook the rain from her hair with her small paws. She walked forward slowly, looking around the room in surprise. Her gaze settled on the bookshelves.

“Wow…”

“This one is a collector.” Phantom lumbered into the room behind her and puffed out her chest triumphantly. “Read whatever you like. These two side rooms, if you are interested in alchemy...enchanting....” She gestured nonchalantly toward the overflowing alchemist’s study. She didn’t know what half of the ingredients were for, but at least the colorful plants hanging from the rafters looked nice. They smelled expensive. “I have a thing or two for it.” 

Elvira grinned at her, her violet eyes sparkling in delight. “Really? I wouldn’t have taken you for the type.”

“I am a collector of fine things. Thief of thieves.” Phantom continued strolling through the room, into the larger chamber and the warmth of the roaring hearth. Argis kept his word, she noticed. On the table was a decadent display of meat and vegetables, with bottles of dark wine to the side and small goblets of fruit. She could feel herself salivating. She folded her arms behind her back and stopped before the table. 

To her left, she could see her room in perfect order, down to the freshly polished weaponry above her headboard. To the right, the bath in the spare room was filled and steaming. Perks of living in the city, she thought. Hot water always running through the pipes, warming her home, readily available for bathing. She felt another swell of pride and hoped Elvira would find it sophisticated. She wanted to be sophisticated in front of her, badly. Life as a sellsword had not prepared her for time spent with scholars. 

“You must have paid a fortune for this place.” 

Phantom looked over her shoulder. Elvira had trailed after her and was staring at the spread of food. 

“You have a chef?”

“Uh--no, no.” Phantom waved awkwardly. “Nothing like that. A housecarl. Sometimes he cooks for me. I asked him to make us something nice…” She scratched the back of her head with a crooked smile. “...This one cannot cook.”

Elvira shook her head. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” She stepped forward, prompting Phantom to pull out a chair for her. 

“It’s true. Come, sit.” 

Elvira looked down at the chair, seeming mildly flustered, but she took a seat and let Phantom tuck her closer to the table again. “Thank you. This is really...I’m just surprised. You have a beautiful home.”

Phantom raised a brow as she sat across from her at the table and reached for a roll. “You expected something else?”

“No,” Elvira blurted out. “It’s just...You travel for work, right? It must be hard to be away from home, and your belongings…” Her ivory whiskers twitched slightly. “I would certainly miss all my books. And my jewelry.” 

“You do not leave the college often, eh?” 

“I haven’t for a while. There are classes, research projects, artifact studies, and not to mention that now there are dragons storming villages outside of Winterhold,” she sighed. “I take my work seriously. I want to do right by my parents, since I owe them so much...”

Phantom took a bite of her roll and chewed thoughtfully. Elvira had told her about them a little on their journey to the dungeon; she had been taken in and raised by Dunmer. They were expert sorcerers--and necromancers. She wondered what kind of people they were like. Across the table, Elvira fidgeted.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed nervously. “That was more than I meant to say.”

“No need to apologize.” Phantom reached for a bottle of wine. “This one wants to know more.”

Elvira hesitated before speaking again. “You have blood matted in your fur,” she said quietly. “Shouldn’t we take a moment to...you know?”

Phantom uncorked the bottle and poured the wine into her goblet. The answer was yes, they should take a moment to clean her wounds, but she needed more time to work up the courage for it. Elvira had been insistent on the fact that she would help patch her up in return for protecting her on the road. She wasn’t sure how she would handle something so intimate, or at least without cracking under pressure.

“Eat while the food is hot. Argis worked hard to get it done on time.” That was true enough. “Then we worry about the rest. Is hard to think on an empty stomach.”

Elvira cocked her head to the side, staring at her with her brow furrowed, then she sighed again. “I can feel it. You’re one of those kinds of people that’s so stubborn, it’s useless to argue. Am I right?”

Phantom beamed. “Yes.”

“Alright. You’re right. While it’s hot,” she agreed and lifted her own goblet for Phantom to pour wine into. She poured generously. “To Argis.”

“To Argis.” 

Though they meant to eat quickly, the two khajiit spent over an hour at the table, laughing and trading stories. When they finally realized how long they had been sitting there, Phantom ushered her guest into the spare room with fresh clothes and towels. A hot bath after a long journey was good for the soul, she swore; it would do them both good to soak. She told Elvira to take as long as she wanted so she could unpack their belongings in the meantime, and promised to go after her. Elvira bathed long enough for Phantom to finish all their unpacking, though Phantom herself found it hard to lounge in the tub with a guest in the house. 

As she sat in the steaming water, she turned to look at the closed bronze doors. Just beyond them, Elvira would be at the table. Maybe going through the herbs they plucked on the way to Markarth. Maybe reading one of the books she had procured. Maybe simply waiting. The dragonborn groaned and splashed her face. Why was it so difficult to act normal around her?

Water dripping from her fur, Phantom stood and stepped out of the tub to take a towel from a nearby stand. She dried her face ferociously, grumbling into the fabric, then did her best to dry the rest of her body off. Her usual post-bath routine was to lie luxuriously in front of the hearth to dry her pelt. Not appropriate for guests. The thought of Elvira doing such a thing crossed her mind briefly; she shook her head vigorously to clear the (admittedly tantalizing) mental image.

Once she had dressed in her house clothes and her fur was merely damp, she opened the doors of the spare room and peered out. Elvira was in front of a wooden stand. The small khajiit had one of its drawers open and was poking around in it, her tail swishing excitedly. Phantom blinked, then the room came alive with her booming laughter. 

Elvira practically fell over herself shutting the drawer and regaining her composure as she whipped around to face her.

“I--I--” she stammered helplessly.

Knowing that Elvira had her faults made it much easier for Phantom to gather herself and swagger into the room. The dragonborn’s shirt hung open on her chest, her soft white fur sticking out in random locks as it dried, and her heavy tail swung lazily behind her as she walked. She smiled at Elvira broadly.

“I’m sorry,” Elvira finally managed. “I was just...I…”

“Ahh, this one does not mind. Is only right for young khajiit to be curious about the world.” Phantom came up beside her and pulled the drawer open again to reveal a slew of potions in glass bottles. “Never use them. Take what your heart desires, sweet one.”

Elvira tucked a lock of hair behind her ear shyly. “Just looking.” She offered an apologetic grin. “You know, you’d probably feel better if you drank a few of these. What happened on the road...I mean…”

She still hadn’t mentioned it explicitly, but Phantom understood. Suddenly being thrust into battle with a dragon had been bad enough, but the blinding, golden soul emanating from its corpse and then flowing through her armor--that part was the worst. There would be no hiding her identity now. 

“There are medical supplies in my room,” Phantom answered, walking away. “Potions are so slimy. This one is not scared of a few stitches.” She sighed pleasantly as she entered her room. The past few months had kept her on the roads, and she was deeply grateful for the chance to throw herself on the bed. Fragrant herbs hung on the wall above her prized collection: jeweled skulls, golden idols, shimmering wands, clusters of soul gems the size of mudcrabs. The library would probably have bought it all off her, if she hadn’t wanted it all as trophies for herself.

Elvira walked along the edges of the room to inspect the array, occasionally touching an item gingerly. Phantom purred as she watched from where she was sprawled on the bed. Above her hung a glass sword and a twisted mage’s staff with a rose at the head. She gestured up at them vaguely.

“This one likes to keep some interesting things from work. The college already has plenty, eh?”

“Incredible,” Elvira breathed. She reached to pick up a crystal orb--glancing first at Phantom for approval--then brought it up to her face, eyes gleaming. “These are all from your adventures?”

Phantom nodded. Many of them were stolen, but that counted as adventure, right? “Each has a story,” she added with a broad gesture. “Which one you want to know about?”

“All of them. But,” Elvira said, giving her a stern look, “that can happen after you stop distracting me from taking care of you.”

Phantom grumbled at that. Part of her was hoping that washing out her wounds in the hot bath would have been enough, but Elvira was persistent. The other part of her was secretly delighted by her persistence. She sighed loudly to keep up the facade, closed her eyes, and lolled her head to the side to nod at a squat dresser.

“That one. If you must.” After waiting a few seconds, Phantom peeked at her with one eye, feeling a thrill of excitement at the thought of Elvira tending to her, then squeezed her eyes shut again as the smaller khajiit turned around with a cluster of supplies in her arms. 

“I will get my answer about the dragon, by the way.” The mattress dipped as the smaller woman sat next to her; Phantom’s thunderous purring resumed as Elvira’s dainty hand swept her hair away from her face. “No matter how much you try to talk your way out of it.”

“I won’t give up my secrets so easily, sweet one. Part of my charm is my mystery, no?”

Elvira leaned in close, their noses almost touching. It made Phantom’s heart stammer. “Fine. If you don’t want to tell me, I’ll have to extract the information in other ways.”

“Ah, well, when you put it that way…”

The mage swatted her gently. “You rogues are all the same,” she chided, though she was grinning. Phantom chuckled. She let her eyes close again as Elvira held her torn ear gingerly, a cloth with disinfectant in her other hand. 

“Now, if you’re quite done being mysterious, I need you to hold still…”

Hopefully, the truth about being dragonborn would not scare her away. She wanted to prove to Elvira just how different from other rogues she really was.

[inspiwriter]

A reading list

Mostly to feed my own obsession with lists, but also to be used as a book recommendations list. Enjoy!

Το καπλάνι της βιτρίνας, Άλκη Ζέη- Tiger in the glass, by Alke Zei

Παραμύθι χωρίς όνομα, Πηνελόπη Δέλτα - Fairytale without a name, by Penelope Delta

Ο Μάγκας, Πηνελόπη Δέλτα - The cool kid, by Penelope Delta

Ένα παιδί μετράει τ’ άστρα, Μενέλαος Λουντέμης - A child counts the stars, by Menelaos Loudemis

Sophie’s World, by Jostein Gaarder

The Phantom of the Opera, by Gaston Leroux

Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe

Jonathan Livingston seagull, by Richard Bach

The Catcher in the Rye, by J. D. Salinger

To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee

The orange girl, by Jostein Gaarder

Anna: a fable about the Earth’s climate and environment, by Jostein Gaarder

The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde

A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens

Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak

The Hobbit, by J. R. R. Tolkien

The Lord of the Rings (The Felowship of the Ring - Two Towers - The return of the King), by J. R. R. Tolkien

Demian, by Herman Hesse

Anna of Green Gables, by L.M. Montgomery

Anne of Avonlea, by L.M. Montgomery

Anne of the Island, by L.M. Montgomery

The ones that walk away from Omelas, by Ursula Le Guin

Howl’s Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones

A wizard of Earthsea (Earthsea Cycle #1), by Ursula Le Guin

The Worlds of Chrestomanci, by Diana Wynne Jones (heptalogy: Charmed Life - The Magicians of Caprona - Witch Week - The Lives of Christopher Chant - Mixed Magics - Conrad’s Fate - The Pinhoe Egg)

Ακυβέρνητες Πολιτείες, Στρατής Τσίρκας (τριλογία: Η Λέσχη - Αριάδνη - Νυχτερίδα) - Drifitng Cities, by Stratis Tsirkas (a trilogy : The Club - Ariagne - The Bat)

Η Φόνισσα, Αλέξανδρος Παπαδιαμάντης - The Murderess, by Alexandros Papadiamantis

Emma, by Jane Austen

The Name of the Rose, by Umberto Eco

Kafka on the Shore, by Haraki Murakami

The Plague, by Albert Camus

Eroica, Κοσμάς Πολίτης (Kosmas Politis)

The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss

Gone With the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell

The Gambler, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott 

Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy

Swann’s Way, by Marcel Proust

Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte

The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald

This Side of Paradise, by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Six of Crows, by Leigh Bardugo

Crooked Kingdom, by Leigh Bardugo

The Owl Service, by Alan Garner

Διακοπές στον Καύκασο, Μαρία Ιορδανίδου - Holidays in Caucasus, by Maria Iordanidou

Fire and Hemlock, by Diana Wynne Jones

A Tale of Time City, by Dianna Wynne Jones

The Pursuit of Love, by Nancy Mitford

The Princess Bride, by William Goldman

Love in a cold climate, by Nancy Mitford

The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway

The turn of the screw, by Henry James

The Dark Lord of Derkholm, by Diana Wynne Jones

The game, by Diana Wynne Jones

The last wish, by Andrzej Sapkwosky

A darker shade of magic, by V.E. Schwab

Sense and Sensibility, by Jane Auaten

Sculpting in time, by Andrei Tarkovski

Persuasion, by Jane Austen

Winter Rose, by Patricia A. McKillip

Swallows and amazons, by Arthur Ransome 

What is literature?, by Jean-Paul Sartre

Hexwood, by Diana Wynne Jones

Deep Secret, by Diana Wynne Jones

The hatred of literature, by William Marx

Year of the Griffin, by Diana Wynne Jones

Castle in the air, by Diana Wynne Jones

Home of the Gentry, by Ivan Turgeniev

Archer’s Goon, by Diana Wynne Jones

The Homeward Bounders, by Diana Wynne Jones

Wilkin’s tooth, by Diana Wynne Jones

A wizard’s guide to defensive baking, by T. Kingfisher

Equal Rites, by Terry Pratchett

The Tombs of Atuan (Earthsea Cycle #2), by Ursula Le Guin

Tehanu, (Earthsea Cycle #4), by Ursula Le Guin 

Mort, by Terry Pratchett

Μπουμπουλίνας 18, Κίττυ Αρσένη (Bouboylinas 18, by Kitty Arseni)

Ανθρωποφύλακες, Περικλής Κοροβέσης (The Method, by Pericles Korovesis)

Vita Nostra, Sergey & Marina Dyachenko

Lexicon, Max Bary

Dune, Frank Herbert

[shirophantomvox]

Random date night with Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo

Hello, anon! Ask and you shall receive! This prompt is very interesting and I will try to keep it in character as much as possible. To sum this up, Hisoka would take you to an ice cream shop, a carnival, or apple orchard while Illumi would rather go to an art or historical museum. Chrollo would persuade you to attend a book reading/author signing or go hiking. Depending on who you are and what your ideal date is, I’m sure you’d find them all fun. Going to a carnival or apple orchard is my go-to since I’ve barely been because they’re all in the suburbs. These headcanons are explained much more than the others. That is why Chrollo and Illumi seem to be short, but they’re not. Also, I can’t wait for Halloween because these headcanons are going to be amazing. I am extremely sorry if there are grammar errors! Taking classes on Zoom is frustrating and now my brain has to relearn everything that I lost in 3 months! Before we get started, I have a few announcements.

This post is more laid back than my other headcanons because I tried to keep it as canon as possible.

I want to thank you all for 65 followers! It means a lot! I’m happy to see that a lot of you enjoy my writing and like it enough to follow me! I have a challenge for you! When I reach 100 followers, I will host some type of writing event here...but I need ideas. I’ve seen some pages do specials where you can send an ask and pretend like you're talking to a character and I respond with what they’d say. SEND ME IDEAS! I WILL CREDIT YOU!

I will be stepping back a little more than before. I’ll still be logged in and re-blogging but as far as writing posts like this...it may only be once or twice a week. You see, I’m in college and I’m struggling financially and I have to work on scholarships. If you all send me an ask, be patient.

Voltron posts will only be created based on asks. I will not be writing posts about VLD if no one requests them. I do not receive any feedback from it anymore and no one seems to like them.

Now, let’s get into the post.

Let's start with Illumi first.

Headcanon 1: Illumi has a secret admiration for different types of art but he specifically enjoys pop art and surrealism. He has commented on how surrealism makes his brain twist and his feelings swirl as he tries to figure out the piece and what inspires it.

He prefers not to participate in tours as he likes to digest the art at his own pace.

Headcanon 2: In his spare time, he paints on a canvas. His art style consists of both surrealism and abstract art. For a person with a dark personality, his compositions always contain bright colors and abstract techniques that leave you wondering about his TRUE personality. He is truly a good man with a bright personality but after being abused for so long, those behaviors/personalities have been shoved so far down his throat that they may not come back up.

He has a bad habit of asking you what you thought about every single piece of art you passed. The conversations were great but this is a date after all. The playful conversation slowly turns into a lecture about art. Although you loved your bf’s dictionary-like brain it also drained your energy.

One of his favorite artists is Vincent Van Gough. Although he favors surrealism, Van Gogh’s art style was mind-blowing to him. So amazed that he buys several Van Gogh t-shirts from the gift shop.

His favorite piece created by Van Gough is “Starry Night”.

He notices that you are becoming bored and decides that it is time for MORE excitement, one that you are certain to enjoy.

“Where are we going,” you ask, pretending to be interested.

“Down to the basement. We are going to have a bite to eat.”

Since Illumi rarely smiled, when he did smile it drove you wild. The anticipation of what his next move was going to be is what drove that wildness. Being a bounty hunter was thrilling already but dating a smart, badass assassin was totally out of your league but it worked out.

Headcanon 3: Illumi’s idea of being romantic is dramatically different from yours. He believes just spending time with you on the couch was enough. He is correct; but if you have the time and funds, your time together should be a little spontaneous. You insisted on dates outside of the house because his family will not stay out of your business.

“Illumi, I am too hungry for more trivia.”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry. So am I. That is why I’ve decided to take you to a wine and cheese party.”

Huh? Wine and Cheese at 3PM? That’s ok. When was there a time limit on when you can drink alcohol?

Illumi has indirectly attended parties as such when he was 15 years old. He never drank, but he watched as his mother’s friends (surprisingly) talked about business and their children. This time, you weren’t going to talk about business for once. Instead, you two were going to actually talk about what couples discuss.

Headcanon 4: When introduced to alcohol for the first time, Illumi immediately stated how he hated brown liquor. That includes Hennessy, Jack Daniels, etc. It makes him sick to his stomach. He prefers to drink Smirnoff mixed with fruity drinks like strawberry or pineapple.

He loves it when you make these drinks for him on a summer day.

Hence the title wine and cheese, you both go to a stand-up table, place your brochures down, and actually have a wonderful conversation not involving work or hunting.

Illumi smiled a few times, more than usual. Whenever he appears to be softer even around you, that is because he has mellowed out and doesn't have the overbearing weight of his family on his shoulders. You set him free.

Hisoka

According to a one-shot that another manga artist created, they expressed that Hisoka was found on the side of the road, was taken in by someone that worked at a local circus, and learned Nen in a matter of days. Hisoka’s clown look and having the skills of a magician proves that this has to be canon in some way.

Headcanon 1: Given this potential backstory, going to a carnival is his go-to every summer. He wants to take you to a circus but saves that for you as an engagement gift.

Everyone with a heart knows that whether or not you’re in a relationship or not the carnival is fun as hell! Expensive fried food, elephant ears, funnel cake, ICEE’s, rides, and stuffed animals are to die for!

Being at a carnival relaxes him so his bloodlust isn’t activated unless someone bumps into him and causes a scene.

Headcanon 2: PDA is something that Hisoka does well; he doesn’t overdo it but does it enough where people get the impression that you are a couple and aren’t “best friends”.

While completing a mission depending on how rough it may be, he insists that you tag along to see how he handles the situation. You’ve already seen his ruthlessness from Hunter’s exam but he insists.

His sense of pride gets the best of him sometimes. Sometimes his head is so big that it reminds you of a large birthday balloon.

Headcanon 3: ANYWAY, given his nature, he is very adventurous, dangerous, and courageous. If he wants to go on the Demon Drop, he’ll do it and you DO not have a choice in the matter. He’ll tease or guilt trip you into doing something that you would not like to do.

“Well, you wouldn’t want me to cling on to someone else, would you?”

“No. Of course not,” you reply.

“Let’s go then, scaredy-cat.”

As a hunter, you’ve seen worse. Why are you so afraid to go on a ride?

Headcanon 4: At apple orchards, cornfield mazes are one of his favorites. You cannot for the life of you figure out how to get out but he can. He grabs a scarecrow and scares you from behind. That annoys you but is nothing compared to later on that night.

Oh. My. God. It’s haunted house time!

“Hisoka, I’m not going in!”

“Why not? I’ll protect you.”

“Because they’re monsters and I already have to deal with one.”

It took him a second to catch on that you were talking about him.

“That’s going to bite you in the butt, kitten.”

Headcanon 5: Like Killua, Hisoka has a sweet tooth. Don’t allow his buff appearance to fool you!

He LOVES caramel apples, elephant ears, funnel cake, freshly squeezed lemonade, fudge, and cotton candy. How can this man manage to stay in shape? The world may never know.

Headcanon 6: He isn’t one to play by other people’s rules but he sets his own rules with your relationship that you both must obey. One of those rules says that neither of you can be on your phones while together.

Headcanon 7: Hisoka insists that you both wear either matching pants or matching shirts to avoid unnecessary flirtation.

He isn’t jealous but on “us time”, he doesn’t want to lose a single second.

Headcanon 8: Hisoka only jumps in when necessary. Given that you’ve passed the hunter’s exam and work as a bodyguard, he knows you can handle your business. If the person can’t take a hint, then he steps in. They almost back up immediately considering Hisoka is towering over them.

When the moon shines, you both go to the car and off to sleep in your comfy king-sized bed.

Chrollo

We all know that Chrollo loves to read! What does he specifically like to read? What Genre? Does he like to read alone or with other people?

Although Chrollo is a thief and must be hidden in the shadows, the authorities have called off the search for him for at least 3 years. Slowly but surely, he begins to find himself in the outside world again.

Chrollo once discussed a book with the Phantom Troupe when they were being transported to another place for a mission. He read “Tears of a Tiger” by Sharon M. Draper.

The reading sessions are opened with an affirmation and a reason to be thankful to be alive. He says he is thankful for the troupe, glances at you, and smiles. No one catches on to that sly face except for Phinks.

Headcanon 1: Chrollo is very silent and shy to an extent. He only associates with people he knows and trusts. You are the social butterfly at this moment.

Chrollo tags along behind you like a shy child, holding your hand while you stick out your free hand to greet everyone.

Today, the book club was going to read “Divergent”.

Headcanon 2: Although he loves to read, he hates it when others read out loud. Most people are drably read and it annoys him. After a while, he takes over. Chrollo was tense the first 30 minutes of the meeting because two cops were there but neither of them noticed it was him.

Headcanon 3: Chrollo often acts the part of the character that he is reading in the book. His tone, attitude, and emphasis on certain words keep the group engaged. He is complimented on his acting!

“Good Job, honey,” you whisper.

He responds by tightly squeezing your hand.

His tone was so impressive that the host insisted that he read for the entire night. He was ok with that because in between reads he was often distracted by a lovely pair of jeans and shoes you had on. You were into writing, so hearing others read and act out the characters helped.

Headcanon 4: In some settings, Chrollo is very braggadocious. He insisted that the group read one of your stories so you could be provided with feedback.

“We’d be delighted to view your story, y/n!”

“It will be fun!”

The book club wasn’t a stereotypical club that only consisted of soccer moms but instead consisted of men and women who were involved with a business, law enforcement, health, etc. This was an open space for everyone to relax and forget about their demanding jobs.

After the meeting, the group went to dinner at a nearby pizzeria. You all enjoyed large pizzas, beer, salads, and dessert. How could your stomach (or anyone’s stomach) hold that much?

Chrollo laughed so much that it made you question if he was your actual boyfriend or not. He even engaged in conversations with the two off-duty cops! For once, you helped Chrollo experience the greater things in life; true love, friendship, and happiness.

“Thank you,” he whispered and slyly placed a kiss on your hand. “For everything.”

[jaskierswolf]

Soo how about a night at a tavern that starts with Geralt unable to take his eyes off of Jaskier's hand as he's playing because those are rings Geralt bought him to claim him and he knows after his set Jaskier will use them to mark up Geralt and claim him as well ;) (is that coherent? I'm slightly tipsy. You know what I mean)

Geraskier, Rated E, Word count: 869.

CW: public masturbation (sort of?), sexual fantasies, mentions of spanking, biting, marking, light dom/sub vibes,

Jaskier's voice was weaving magic throughout the tavern. The usually rowdy patrons had fallen silent as the bard warbled a heart wrenching ballad of unrequited love. The tune achingly beautiful as Jaskier cried out, he never lost his tune but Geralt could hear the wails of heartbreak.

He’d been the one to cause them.

This song still hurt them both, but it was popular and it brought in coin. Geralt shifted in his seat, focussing his senses so he could block out the song. He wasn’t watching Jaskier for the songs. He knew them as well as the bard did, possibly better, although his skill was lacking. No, he watching Jaskier for the simple pleasure of admiring his beauty.

There was nothing more radiant than Jaskier mid-performance, owning the room with his natural charm and charisma, seducing everyone out of their coin. He was something else.

But now he was also Geralt’s.

Pushing Jaskier away hadn’t numbed his feelings for the bard in the slightest, if anything it had made them stronger, a dull never-ending ache where there should be light, should be Jaskier. Months later, and several days grovelling for Jaskier’s forgiveness, they were finally together.

Geralt still struggled to believe it was real somedays but Jaskier found ways to remind him. Bruises healed quickly but there was rarely a morning where Geralt didn’t wake up with dark marks on his neck, trailing down his shoulder, along his collar bone. Geralt swallowed and took a long gulp of his ale, his mouth felt too dry as he remembered with painful clarity how Jaskier looked between his legs, hair tousled, cheeks flushed as he bit the tender skin of Geralt’s thighs.

The promise of more, each bite closer to Geralt’s aching cock. He groaned as he blinked back into the room.

“Fuck,” he growled. His trousers were suddenly too tight to be decent. He wouldn’t be able to move without anyone noticing his predicament. He tried to focus back on Jaskier’s performance but it didn’t help. If anything it made it worse. His vision seemed to centre on Jaskier’s hands, every note plucked from the lute was suddenly pure torture, each movement of Jaskier’s fingers made his rings glisten in the candlelight.

Two of the bands had a wolf engraved on the flat of the metal, similar in style to Geralt’s medallion. Jaskier never took them off, he preened and showed them off to anyone who would stay still enough to listen, but it was the other three rings that captured Geralt’s attention, golden and embossed with buttercups, each design slightly different in style.

Geralt stared, entranced by Jaskier’s hands, mind feeling hazy in the middle of the tavern, memories flooding him unbidden. Geralt could feel every caress of Jaskier’s fingers against the lute strings, remembering the care Jaskier took to stretch him. Jaskier never rushed, not even when they were both desperate and clawing at each other’s clothes, Jaskier never rushed, making sure Geralt felt every single finger as it pumped inside him, scissoring, stretching him until he was ready for Jaskier’s cock.

Geralt swore under his breath, as he palmed himself through his trousers, too weak to ignore it any longer. He ached. Jaskier’s performance couldn’t end soon enough. It was the best kind of torture. The song was happier now, more upbeat, lively. Jaskier danced around the room like a fae in their court. He was magical, and Geralt was under his spell.

Jaskier feet stomped on the bench in rhythm with his music, creating a percussion accompaniment to rouse the audience. Geralt counted each thump of Jaskier’s foot under his breath,

“One,” he muttered, desperately resisting the urge to unlace his trousers. In his memory Jaskier’s hands landed firmly on his arse, sharp and stinging pain where the rings hit his naked skin.

The buttercups that lasted longer than bruises, clear signs of who Geralt belonged to. He was Jaskier’s as much as Jaskier was his.

“Two,” another beat in the music, another phantom hit.

He wanted to close his eyes. He couldn’t bear to take his eyes off Jaskier.

“Three.”

Jaskier spun round in a circle, their gaze met across the room. Jaskier’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips. He winked with a knowing smirk and launched into the next line.

“Four…” Geralt gasped, his mug splintered and burst in his hands. He hadn’t realised he’d been gripping it so tightly. Jaskier’s fingers slipped on his lute, but he carried on to finish the song, ignoring his mistake, tossing a withering glare in Geralt’s direction.

By the time Jaskier had finished the song Geralt was across the room. The bard barely had time to thank the audience before Geralt had picked him up and thrown him over his shoulder. The innkeeper could collect the coin. Jaskier had more important things to attend to.

“Right, well… that’s all for tonight,” Jaskier sang cheerily, his lute knocking against Geralt’s back “you have been delightful, really quite splendid but well, I can’t say no to my White Wolf now, can I?”

Geralt felt a swell of pride in his chest. My White Wolf. Jaskier was so casually admitting to the entire inn that Geralt was his.

Tag list (18 +): @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @slythnerd @hailhailsatan @thecomfortofoldstorries @gelos @moonysourenza @frances-the-red @honeysuckletook @elliestormfound @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral  @kittynannygaming @stinastar @fontegagrilledcheese @baka-yu @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @kueble @justjess94 @kozkaboi @wherethewordsare @dapandapod @damatris @mayastormborn @jaskierslastbraincell

[casxmorgan]

Books Books Books

100 Years of Solitude

11.22.63

120 Days of Sodom

1491

1984

A Brief History of Time

A Canticle for Leibowitz

A Child Called It

A Clockwork Orange

A Confederacy of Dunces

A History of the World in Ten and a Half Chapters

A Land Fit for Heroes Trilogy

A Little Life

A Naked Singularity

A People's History of the United States

A Scanner Darkly

A Series of Unfortunate Events

A Short History of Nearly Everything

A Song of Ice and Fire

A Storm of Swords

A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments

A Thousand Splendid Suns

A Walk in the Woods

A World Lit Only by Fire

Accursed Kings

Alice in Wonderland

All Quiet on the Western Front

All the Light We Cannot See

All the Pretty Horses

America, the Book

American Gods

American Psycho

And then There Were None

Angela’s Ashes

Animal Farm

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Anna Karenina

Anything Terry Pratchett, But, Mort is My Favorite

Anything Written by Robin Hobb

Apt Pupil

Artemis Fowl

Asimov's Guide to the Bible

Asoiaf

Atlas Shrugged

Bartimeaus

Batman: the Long Halloween

Battle Royale

Beat the Turtle Drum

Behind the Beautiful Forevers

Belgariad Series

Beloved

Berserk

Bestiario

Black Company

Blankets/habibi

Blind Faith

Blindness

Blood Meridian

Blood and Guts: a History of Surgery

Bluest Eye

Brandon Sanderson

Brave New World

Breakfast of Champions

Bridge to Terabithia

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: an Indian History of the American West

Calvin and Hobbs

Candide

Carrie

Cat's Cradle

Catch 22

Cats Cradle

Chaos

Child of God

Choke

Chuck Palahniuk

City of Ember

City of Thieves

Cloud

Collapse

Come Closer

Complaint

Confessions of a Mask

Contact

Conversation in the Cathedral

Cosmos

Crime and Punishment

Dan Brown

David

Dead Birds Singing

Dead Mountain: the Untold True Story of the Dyatlov Pass Incident

Delta Venus

Die Räuber (the Robbers)

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep

Don Quixote

Dragonlance

Dune

Dying of the Light

East of Eden

Educated

Empire of Sin: a Story of Sex, Jazz, Murder, and the Battle for Modern New Orleans

Enders Game

Enders Shadow

Escape from Camp 14

Ever Since Darwin

Every Man Dies Alone

Everybody Poops

Everything is Illuminated

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Fahrenheit 451

Far from the Madding Crowd

Faust

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S Thompson

Feet of Clay

Fight Club

First Law

Flowers for Algernon

Flowers in the Attic

Foundation

Foundation Series

Foundation Trilogy

Frankenstein

Freakonomics

Fun Home

Galapagos

Geek Love

Gerald’s Game

Ghost Story

Go Ask Alice

Go Dog Go

Godel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid

Goldfinch

Gone Girl

Gone with the Wind

Good Omens

Grapes of Wrath

Great Expectations

Greg Egan

Guards! Guards!

Guns Germs and Steel

Guts (short Story)

Half a World

Ham on Rye

Hannibal Rising

Hard Boiled Wonderland

Hatchet

Haunted

Hawaii

Heart Shaped Box

Heart of Darkness

Hellbound Heart

Hellraiser

Hell’s Angels

Helter Skelter

His Dark Materials

Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Hogg

Holocaust by Bullets

House of Leaves

How to Cook for Fourty Humans

How to Win Friends and Influence People

Huckleberry Finn

Hyperion

I Am America, and So Can You

I Am the Messenger

I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream

I Was Dr. Mengele’s Assistant

In Cold Blood

In Search of Our Mother's Gardens

Independent People

Infinite Jest

Into Thin Air

Into the Wild

Introduction to Linear Algebra

Invisible Monsters

Ishmael

It

Jacques Le Fataliste

Jane Eyre

Jaunt

Job: a Comedy of Justice

John Dies at the End

John Grisham

Johnathan Livingston Seagull

Johnny Got His Gun

Jon Ronson

Journal of a Novel

Jurassic Park

Justine

L'histoire D'o

Lamb

Last Exit to Brooklyn

Les Miserables

Lies My Teacher Told Me

Life of Pi

Limits and Renewals

Little House in the Big Woods

Lockwood & Co.

Lolita

Looking for Trouble

Lord Foul’s Bane

Lord of the Flies

Lyddie

Malazan Book of the Fallen

Maldoror

Manufacturing Consent: the Political Economy of the Mass Media

Man’s Search for Meaning

Mark Twain’s Autobiography

Maus

Meditations

Megamorphs (series)

Mein Kampf

Memnooch the Devil

Metro 2033

Michael Crichton

Middlesex

Mindhunter

Misery

Mistborn

Moby Dick

Mrs. Dalloway

My Side of the Mountain

My Sweet Audrina

Nacht über Der Prärie (night over the Prairie)

Naked Lunch

Name of the Wind

Neuromancer

Never Let Me Go

Neverwhere

New York

Next

Night

Night Shift

Norwegian Wood

Notes from Underground

Nothing to Envy: Real Lives in North Korea

Of Mice and Men

Of Nightingales That Weep

Ohio

Old Mans War

Old Mother West Wind

On Heroes and Tombs

On Laughter and Forgetting

On the Road

One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest

One Hundred Years of Solitude

One of Us

Painted Bird

Patrick Rothfuss

Perfume: the Story of a Murderer

Persepolis

Pet Sematary

Peter Pan

Pillars of the Earth

Poisonwood Bible

Pride and Predjudice

Ready Player One

Rebecca

Red Mars

Red Night (series)

Red Shirts

Red Storm Rising

Redwall

Replay

Requiem for a Dream

Revenge

Riftwar Saga

Ringworld

Roald Dahl

Rolls of Thunder, Hear My Cry

Round Ireland with a Fridge

Running with Scissors

Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes

Sapiens, a Brief History of Humankind

Scary Stories to Read in the Dark

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

Schindler’s List

Sein Und Zeit

Shades of Grey

Sharp Objects

Shattered Dreams

Sherlock Holmes

Sho-gun

Siddhartha

Sisypho

Skin and Other Stories

Slaughterhouse Five

Smoke & Mirrors

Snow Crash

Soldier Son

Sometimes a Great Notion

Sphere

Starship Troopers

Stiff, the Curious Lives of Human Cadavers

Storied Life of A.j. Fikry

Stormlight Archives

Story of the Eye

Stranger in a Strange Land

Surely, You're Joking

Survivor Type (short Story)

Suttree

Swan Song

Tale of Two Cities

Tales of the South Pacific

The Alchemist

The Altered Carbon Trilogy

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay

The Art of Deception

The Art of Fielding

The Art of War

The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation

The Autobiography of Henry Viii

The Autobiography of Malcolm X

The Beach

The Bell Jar

The Bible

The Bloody Chamber

The Book Thief

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

The Brothers Karamazov

The Call of Cthulu and Other Weird Stories

The Cask of Amontillado (short Story)

The Catcher in the Rye

The Chronicles of Narnia

The Clown

The Color out of Space

The Communist Manifesto

The Complete Fiction of H.p. Lovecraft

The Count of Monte Cristo

The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night Time

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime

The Dagger and the Coin

The Damage Done

The Dark Tower

The Declaration of Independence, the Us Constitution, and the Bill of Rights

The Devil in the White City

The Dharma Bums

The Diamond Age

The Dice Man

The Discworld Series

The Dresden Files

The Elegant Universe

The First Law Trilogy

The Forever War

The Foundation Trilogy

The Gentleman Bastard Sequence

The Geography of Nowhere

The Girl Next Door

The Girl on the Milk Carton

The Giver

The Giving Tree

The God of Small Things

The Grapes of Wrath

The Great Gatsby

The Great Gilly Hopkins

The Hagakure

The Half a World Trilogy

The Handmaid’s Tale

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

The Hiding Place

The History of Love

The Hobbit

The Hot Zone

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

The Hyperion Cantos

The Jaunt

The Jungle

The Key to Midnight

The Killing Star

The Kingkiller Chronicles

The Kite Runner

The Last Question (short Story)

The Lies of Lock Lamora

The Little Prince

The Long Walk

The Lord of the Rings

The Lottery (short Story)

The Lovely Bones

The Magicians

The Magus

The Martian

The Master and Margarita

The Metamorphosis of Prime Intellect

The Monster at the End of This Book

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress

The Music of Eric Zahn (short Story)

The Name of the Wind & the Wise Man's Fear

The Necronomicon

The New Age of Adventure: Ten Years of Great Writing

The Night Circus

The Nightmare Box

The Odyssey

The Omnivore's Dilemma

The Orphan Master’s Son

The Outsiders

The Painted Bird

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

The Phantom Tollbooth

The Picture of Dorian Gray

The Pit and the Pendulum

The Plague

The Prince

The Prince of Tides

The Princess Bride

The Prophet

The Queen’s Gambit

The Rape of Nanking

The Red Dwarf

The Republic

The Rifter Saga

The Road

The Satanic Verses

The Screwtape Letters

The Secret History

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel

The Selfish Gene

The Shining

The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer

The Silmarillion

The Sirens of Titan

The Six Wives of Henry the 8th

The Solitude of Prime Numbers

The Speaker of the Dead

The Stars My Destination

The Stormlight Archive

The Story of My Tits

The Stranger

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck

The Suspicions of Mr. Witcher

The Tao of Pooh

The Things They Carried

The Time Machine

The Time Traveller’s Wife

The Tin Drum

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green

The Wasp Factory

The Wind Up Bird Chronicle

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle

The World According to Garp

The Yellow Wallpaper

Their Eyes Were Watching God

Things Fall Apart

Thirsty

This Blinding Absence of Light

Tiger!

Time Enough for Love

To Kill a Mockingbird

To Say Nothing of the Dog

Toni Morrison

Too Many Magicians

Traumnovelle

Tuesdays with Morrie

Tuf Voyaging

Undeniable

Under Plum Lake

Universe in a Nutshell

Unwind

Uzumaki

Various

Village Life in Late Tsarist Russia

Walden

War & Peace

War and Peace

Warriors: Bluestar’s Prophecy

Watchers

Water for Elephants

Watership Down

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

We Need to Talk About Kevin

Wheel of Time

When Rabbit Howls

Where the Red Fern Grows

Where the Sidewalk Ends

Why I Am Not a Christian

Why People Believe Weird Things

Wizards First Rule

Wool

World War Z

Worm

Wuthering Heights

You Can Choose to Be Happy

Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

[dnangelic]

YOUR CHARACTER:  IN 10 QUOTES !

tell us your favorite quotes from your character. give us an idea of who they are by the things they’ve said. then tag your friends.

i feel sorry for it, all beaten up like that! i think it must be very valuable. we'll take better care of it.

i can do it! i won't give up on him! i don't want him to forget everything! i don't care if he doesn't need me anymore, as long as he remembers me!

i want to stop it, but...!! what should i do? what do i have to do to stop it? i don't know what to do... why? why am i always... always... so powerless?! 'we'll... we'll think of something...! we can do something... i know we can! dad's looking into all kinds of stuff, dark and i will help too! i-i'm not saying this very well... but we've gotta do something! we will do something! no matter what! we'll do something...!!'

at that moment... i didn't care that dark's feathers were scattered all around me... or that i'd hurt my arm so badly. because... there was something that hurt much more. that in the end, i couldn't save them. all i wanted was to save them... the two girls who believed in me.

no... daisuke knew that feeling. i can't believe that i've changed my mind, i can't forgive myself, and i feel like i'm blaming myself... 'but if you can change, good things will happen.'

riku-san ....... wait for me. if you're waiting for me, then i can do my best.

but... it may be true... that i'm always relying on dark. that i can't do anything just by myself. i don't really know --- what my real dream is.

...i have to tell her. right now. i have to tell her right now. riku will no longer believe me. but what if i tell her? riku-san may come to hate me. ---i'll be hated? but, it's no good. i can't keep lying to her.

if [ my not being around ] is really good, then it can't be helped. it's not about whether or not people are happy i'm here or not here. i can't say it well, but [...] i just want all the people who are important to me to always be happy. for that reason, if there's something i can do, i want to do anything i can. but... if there's something i can do, if me being here can make people happy, then that would make me really pleased.

it's okay. no matter where you go, i'll come and steal you away. there's nothing that can't be stolen by dark. i am --- phantom thief dark.

most fairy-tales are warnings... against human pride and cruelty. purity always has its opposite... if humans had no impurities, they could never be considered pure. it's just like you and me.

...am i not [someone with a pure heart?] why then, do i live?

i don't want you to forget me! i don't want you to ever forget.

no one tells me what to do... but me!

let's go on living always thinking about the fun things. it's true that humans have unattractive or weak points, but hating or being jealous is only going to make you tired. and also, it's probably best not to want to test people. humans who test people will just get tested by others. let's start by trusting in others. humans who don't trust others could never gain trust from them.

humans... create things to try and stop time... which is out of their control... so that they, who aren't eternal, can believe in eternity. if you believe in it...eternity is real.

do you know what it means to never change?

if... if not for you, i wouldn't be here either. that's what i am. i am able to live, because you are here.

even if there are imperfections, the real thing is the real thing. no matter how good a copy is, it can't beat the real thing. if you're willing to pretend it's for someone else's sake, then don't do it.

listen, if i ... if i was a monster... what would you do? if i wasn't human, but something else. something supernatural. what would you do?

[kaitoujokerscans]

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH8

<8> Battle Between Rivals

"Hmm, I don't get it..." In the Riviera HQ corridor, Joker tilted his head.

"Same here. Should we do a magic square or rock-paper-scissors like we did before?" Beside him, Hachi tossed out a random guess.

"The magic square and rock-paper-scissors... Ohh! I know!" Joker suddenly exclaimed.

"Joker-san, did you figure it out?"

"Yep, thanks to your hint. You have to combine the magic square and rock-paper-scissors for this puzzle. We just have to work out which one wins every time when going horizontally, vertically, and diagonally!"

"Really?" Hachi examined the numbers.

Joker took out a notepad from his pocket and copied down the 16 numbers. "First, going vertical. The leftmost column is {5, 0, 0, 0}, which works out to paper, rock, rock, rock. Paper wins. That means all the 0s lose," Joker said and crossed out the three 0s.

"Next is the second column. This is {2, 5, 2, 5}, making it scissors, paper, scissors, paper. Scissors wins here, so the 5s lose," said Joker, crossing out the two 5s. "Do the same for the third and fourth columns and X out the rest like this, see?" Joker crossed out the 2s in the third column and the 5s in the fourth column.

"I get it. So any of the numbers that lose here aren't the one we're looking for, right?"

"Yeah. Now go horizontally. Do the same rock-paper-scissors conversions we did with the columns, and..." He went across the rows crossing out one number after another, and in no time, there were only two numbers left out of the sixteen. The other fourteen were all crossed out. The remaining numbers were the 2 in the top row, rightmost column, and the 2 in the second column.

"Which of these two is stronger?" asked Hachi.

Joker puffed up as he answered. "There's still the diagonals, right? The line going from the top-right to the bottom-left is {2, 0, 2, 0}, rocks and scissors, so the scissors lose!" Joker crossed out the top-right 2 last of all.

"Which means..."

"Right. The 2 in the top row, second from the left, is the 'number that doesn't lose'!"

"I see now. That was incredible, Joker-san!"

"I got it because of your hint, you know. All right, time to push the button!"

"Okay! Right on!" Hachi jumped up and pushed the "2" button. There was a low beep, and then the clang of something unlocking. The door slowly opened, revealing the door of the safe holding the Riviera recipe behind it. It certainly looked like a sturdy door.

"Let's get to opening this thing up!" Joker pulled a giant electric saw out of hammerspace.

"Joker-san, what's that...?"

"Hm? This baby can crack open any door or safe. It's my custom Joker electric saw!"

"Then couldn't you just have used that from the start!?"

"Ha ha, now that wouldn't be any fun. A phantom thief uses his brain wherever possible when breaking in." Joker smiled from ear to ear, just before hitting the electric saw's power switch. After a LOT of noise and rattling, the safe was quite literally busted open.

Joker fished the recipe page out of the safe where it had been kept. But he didn't exactly look pleased. "Sheesh, what a letdown. And here I thought I'd finally get back at him for what happened with the Crimson Crystal."

What he said confused Hachi. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"This is where Noir works."

"Whaaat!? Really!?"

Joker picked up an empty popcorn bag off the ground and started to explain. "Yeah. After Noir quit being a spy, he ended up in charge of security at Riviera HQ. If you wanna protect an international secret, get yourself an international spy."

"That makes sense. So he got a job where he could put his spy skills to use... But then why is Noir not around? It's unsettling how there's nothing here."

"You've got that right. I thought sure he'd have a trap set..."

They looked around at the safe room again. It was stark empty, not even a desk or table in sight. Save for a small security camera in one corner, there didn't seem to be much of a security system at all.

"Well, whatever. Let's blow this joint."

Joker and Hachi were just about to leave, when...

The door that they had just come in through budged.

"It's gotta be Noir...!" Joker reflexively pulled out his cards. But the one who came in wasn't the person he had expected.

"Spade!"

"Spade-san!"

Right in front of their eyes were Spade and Dark Eye, who had opened the last door and entered the safe room. They looked surprised to see Joker and Hachi as well.

"Joker!?"

"Kyo kyo kyo!"

"Spade, what are you here for?""

"I could ask you the same thing? Wait, what about Noir...?" Spade asked, darting his eyes around. Apparently Spade had also learned about Noir's link to this place and had come to steal the treasure.

"He's not here. You were a step too late, besides. The 'Riviera Recipe' is mine!" Joker dangled the recipe page and waved it about.

"...Oh, so that's what you were after. Where's Noir? There's something I have to return to him," Spade said, taking an object out of his pocket.

When he saw what it was, Joker was shocked. "That's my Crimson Crystal!"

Spade held up the bright red gemstone and turned up the corners of his lips. "That's right. Noir left it with me because he wanted me to return it to you. But my pride won't let me do that."

"Pride? What exactly did Noir tell you?"

"Well..." Spade clammed up. Noir had said something that injured his pride, no doubt about it. Joker had some idea of what it was. Noir had stolen his treasure.

Then, realizing something, Spade inhaled sharply. "Now I get it. This is Noir's strategy."

"Strategy?"

"He damaged our psyche and provoked our anger, all so that we would come across each other like this."

"You mean he knew that we'd come here?"

"Yes, exactly. And we each have the treasure that the other wants..." Spade's gaze focused on the recipe in Joker's hand. He probably also wanted the recipe so he could put Noir to shame. And in Spade's hand was the Crimson Crystal which Joker had stolen from Kaneari. The two of them stared each other down.

"Joker, this is a great opportunity. How about whoever wins gets the other's treasure?" Spade shot an incendiary look at Joker. He recalled what Noir had said: "Go ahead and chase behind Joker forever..." I'll prove him wrong...!

Joker whipped out his cards and readied himself as well. "Fine by me. Let's do this, Spade!"

"Here I come, Joker!" Spade swiftly unholstered his Ice Shot and aimed it.

A low bellow droned through the dark sky. An enormous ship floated upon the endless night ocean. It was one of the world's most luxurious passenger crafts, Urban of the Sea. The ship, which was 3000 meters long, housed over 1000 guest rooms as well as all kinds of recreational facilities. With its own pool, restaurant, theater, multiple liquor lounges, an ice-skating rink, and even a rock-climbing wall, it was like an entire city stuffed onto a boat. It hosted over 3000 passengers per voyage and visited tourist destinations all over the world.

Tonight, this enormous ship was filled with silence.

The ship had been rented out to VIPs from the Kingdom of Lachla. These VIPs were staying in the best guest room there was, and it was in this room that the Lachla Crown was being kept under heavy security.

This guest room was near the fore of the ship. Spaced away from it, at the aft of the ship, was a huge structure. Though "huge" is an understatement — it was as tall as a five-story building. This cabin, with its obtuse angles, curved up to a circular floor at the top. It was meant as an observatory deck where one could survey the outside scenery. A man stood atop the observatory deck, his black cape fluttering. It was Noir. He was quietly awaiting Silver Heart. Soon, I can have my long-awaited revenge...

"So you're here..." murmured Noir, sensing a presence. A man had come up behind him. His white double-breasted suit was smartly buttoned, and his silver cape fluttered. His straight, upright bearing hardly suggested his age. This was the legendary phantom thief, Silver Heart!

"It's been a long time, Noir."

"Yes. I wanted to see you, Silver... or rather, you're Silver Heart now, aren't you?"

Strangely enough, Silver Heart didn't feel at all wistful as he observed Noir. He had certainly aged, but Noir's face hadn't lost the keenness from when he had known him as a spy. Silver Heart glared at Noir. "I heard, Noir. So you've become a phantom thief."

"Yes, I retired from being a spy. Because of you. Now I'm the head of security for a beverage manufacturer."

"Because of me?"

"You heard me. You ran away from me and kept being a thorn in my side..."

"You're right. I was probably running away from you... from my responsibilities as a spy. I couldn't put up with the ruthlessness of it anymore. I couldn't become as cold-blooded as you..."

"Heh heh heh, are you so sure that's the case?"

"What...?" Silver Heart continued to stare down Noir.

"We'll fight once more, with you as cold-blooded as you once were. Whoever wins the match can take the Lachla Crown," said Noir. He pulled the cloth off a table set up on the deck. Lying upon it was a crown studded with brilliant jewels. Noir had already stolen the Lachla Crown!

"I've already put the Lachlans to sleep. If you want this, you have to steal it from me."

"So that's what you're after..."

"This brings me back... you and I once infiltrated Lachla in order to destroy this. But it was your fault that the plan went awry. Now that I think about it, we've been at odds ever since..." Noir mused, his eyes focused on the crown.

But Silver Heart lowered his voice and spoke. "I will never again be like I was. There's not an ounce of spy left in me."

"Heh heh heh, humans don't ever really change. You're a cold-blooded spy. And if you aren't, you'll never be able to win against me..."

"That's not true. I'm going to fight against you as a phantom thief." Silver faced back to Noir and strengthened his grip on his rod. "Noir, our long-overdue reunion wasn't so emotional after all..."

"I expected as much. Here I come, Silver!" Not even a moment later, Noir kicked off the ground and lunged at Silver Heart.

The floor split open with a bang, and Joker and Spade plummeted down towards the floor below.

"Joker-san!"

"Kyo kyo, Spade-sama!"

Hachi and Dark Eye peeked down over the edge to see them lying on the ground, still squabbling with each other. The lower floor was a recreational sports center with a pool, exercise machines, a running track, and more. They let each other go, took their distance, and stood off against each other.

"Been a while since I fought you like this, Spade."

"Yes, but that's because you never take me seriously."

"Not true!" Joker took an advance notice card out of his pocket and quickly scribbled something on it. "Spade, I'm gonna take the treasure from you, no two ways about it!"

"Heh heh heh, now that's more like it. Then we'll face off in a minute-long match, like the one you lost to Noir in."

"Ghh..." Joker bit his lip bitterly. So Spade had known about Joker and Noir's match after all. "All right. I'll steal the treasure from you in one minute, no more than that!"

"And if you can't?"

"I can!" Joker pulled cards out of his breast pocket and threw them at Spade. "Emblem Fire!" The cards caught fire one by one and flew straight towards Spade.

"Ice Shot!" Spade used his Ice Shot to closely target and freeze the cards.

"Not bad! Emblem Fire!" Joker tossed more cards out. A flurry of cards scattered to every corner of the room, sticking into the walls and sinking into the pool. While Spade was shooting down the cards that were coming his way, Joker jumped to the side. He flipped around and leapt toward Spade. Once he was in front of him, he fanned out his cards. "Straight Flash!"

"Not good enough! Ice Shot Mirror!" Spade spun his Ice Shot around and made a small mirror of ice in midair. It reflected the light from the Straight Flash, blinding Joker.

"Gwah!"

"Ha ha ha! Your attacks are so repetitive!" Spade froze the pool with his Ice Shot, slid the blades out of his shoes, and skated onto the makeshift rink. "Catch me if you can!"

"Gah! Says the guy who only ever uses Ice Shot!"

Going after Spade, Joker stepped onto the makeshift rink. But he slipped and fell right onto his back with a magnificent thud. "Owwwww...."

"It's been almost a minute. There's no way I'm going to lose to you...!" Spade spun about on the ice and faced back to him. He was saying this not just about Joker, but about Noir as well.

"Say that again...?" Joker glared hard at Spade.

Spade was looking down at Joker with cold eyes. "Now that I'm standing before you like this, I feel a bit of pity. For myself. I hate how bothered I am by your existence."

"..." Joker listened quietly.

"Well, it's just about time. Fifteen seconds left... if you admit your loss here and now, I'll at least acknowledge you have the skills to be my rival." Spade silently pointed his Ice Shot.

But Joker shook his head with a derisive laugh. "No thanks. I'll decide my rivals on my own. And Spade, you're my rival in every respect."

"I'm what...?"

Just then, the ice under Spade's feet cracked loudly. "What!?" Spade involuntarily lost his balance. Joker immediately ran up to him and swiped the Crimson Crystal out of Spade's hand. At the same time, he pushed against the ice and jumped over to the poolside.

"Waaaugh!" The ice surrounding him split, and Spade splashed into the pool. Thoroughly soaked, Spade poked his head out of the water with a gasp and scowled at Joker. "W-What... did you do!?"

"It's simple. I set up my Emblem Fire inside the pool."

"You what...!?" Sure enough, when he looked at the ice, there were ashes from the burned cards. "...But the fire should have gone out when it was underwater!"

"Didn't you know? Gunpowder doesn't need external oxygen to burn, so it can stay aflame even underwater. There's a substance in fireworks that lets them keep burning even when they're immersed."

"You're kidding..."

"As soon as I saw the pool, I knew you'd freeze it over. That's why I shot Emblem Fire into it in advance. Then I just had to wait for the spot you were on to melt."

"You... predicted my attack..."

"Heh heh, you're pretty repetitive too," said Joker, spitting Spade's words right back at him. "Just as warned, I've stolen the Crimson Crystal in under a minute!"

"Ghh...!" Spade bit his lip and balled up his fists.

"Spade, you can challenge me any time," grinned Joker.

Just then, they heard a scream from outside the window. "KYAAAAAAAA!"

Looking out, they saw a blob of pink in the night sky approaching them at high speed. It was Queen, holding onto Balloon Gum.

"Queen!?"

Carried by powerful gusts of wind, Queen was hurtling their way.

She's going to crash into the window glass...! Joker used his Emblem Fire and Spade used his Ice Shot to break the glass, and Queen was forcefully swept into the building.

"T-Thanks."

"Queen, what's up?"

"Trouble. Noir sent out an advance notice. He's going to steal the treasure that Grandpa is after!"

"He's what!?" Joker and Spade exclaimed in unison.

Then there was a series of loud rumbles as reinforced shutters rolled over each wall and the ceiling.

"Oh shoot...!"

The three of them were trapped on this floor.

[nerdyfangirl67]

whenever you have the time, maybe some hcs for Erik and an artist reader?? 👉👈 And they like to draw him but he doesn’t find out until he comes across their sketches one day?? Sorry that’s super specific fhdhdhhd I love your writing ;w;

Of course darling! Thank you so much for the request!! And the compliment! I love that I can make something y’all enjoy! <3 <3

Alright, here it goes.

You had been drawing him, or at least what you thought he looked like, for months.

It had started when he had appeared, almost out of thin air, during one of the dress rehearsals, demanding that Christine take the lead soprano role.

After all, as he put it, “This is my opera house, and you fools will listen to me.”

Ever since then, you had been consumed with thoughts of him.

Of his mysterious nature, black flowing cape, deep, dark voice, and the bright white mask adorning his face.

These thoughts carried over into your art.

It started with one small, crudely drawn ‘Phantom’ figure and had become pages upon pages of sketches and drawings that focused on every little detail of his appearance. 

You drew him as you saw him in your mind.

Flawless

Dark

Full of mystery

Obsessed with the music

Furiously composing

Dramatically playing the organ

Looming in the shadows

But also...

Tender

Human

A man

Everything you knew and everything you had heard about him converged together, creating an image of him that you believed to be true.

You soon had a book full of the art you had created of him. Once it was complete, you had placed the book on the small, rickety shelf you had next to your bed at the opera house.

Because you saw that book on your shelf every day, it didn’t take you long to realize it had gone missing. 

After wildly searching for days, you had to give up hope that you would ever find it. You just hoped that it hadn’t gotten into the wrong hands, the hands of someone who would use those drawing against you.

What you didn’t know, was that the Phantom, Erik, had seen you ferociously drawing in it many times and his curiosity had gotten the best of him.

He had taken it, from your room, in the middle of the day, like a common thief.

Something he hadn’t been proud of when he had done it, but seeing those drawings had made him forget all about having stolen your drawings

At first, he had been angry. Unbelievably so.

The thought that someone had watched him and thought they knew who he was, had infuriated him.

But then, he was filled with adoration, pride, intrigue, inspiration, and a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Happiness

He was happy. So much so that he wanted to know the artist behind the work.

You.

He returned the book to its spot on your shelf and waited for you one evening.

You had just spent the entire day working and seeing the Phantom melt out of the shadows of your room, had been a lot to handle.

Once you had gotten over your shock of having the Phantom in your room, you had sat down and listened as he had told you, in very little words, that he had taken the drawings.

He told you how much your creative ability had intrigued and inspired him.

And he had told you that he wanted to know you, the true you, as you had discovered the truest version of himself.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

All’s Fair in Love and Larceny

Summary: All Kaito wanted was to get Hakuba off his back about the Phantom Thievery... and mess with his favorite detectives’ love lives.  AO3 Link

@not-a-hope-in-hell    ‘tis I, your secret santa. It’s not exactly what you wanted, but I think it’s pretty good. Happy Holidays~!

Also, @dcmksecretsanta

Shinichi blinked, staring at the white form perched outside his bedroom window. He blinked again. No, KID was still there. Sighing, he unlatched the lock and pulled the glass up. “What do you want?” he asked the thief.

“My darling princess—”

“Not a princess—”

“My darling prince—” KID snatched one of Shinichi’s limp hands and kissed the air above it—“Would you please giving me the honor of escorting you this lovely evening?”

“…KID, it’s two am.”

“Very astute of you, detective! Unfortunately, I am very well aware of the hour.” There were dark bags under KID’s eyes, Shinichi noticed, previously mistaking them to be part of the shadow from his hat. “Alas, I have neither the time nor patience to visit you at a more respectable hour.” His voice dropped. “Please, Tantei-kun. I’m desperate.”

Alarm rose in Shinichi. KID wasn’t one to ask for help; even now, years after his return to the spotlight, there was only one suspected assistant to the criminal magician. Hakuba, Shinichi’s… friend and fellow Kaitou KID chaser, had even confided in him about a suspected dark organization trying to kill KID. A pit opened up in Shinichi’s stomach. If it was a branch of the Black Organization that he had failed to capture…

Shinichi opened the window more and stepped away. “Well? Get in.”

KID rushed inside, uncharacteristically tripping on his cape as he did. It seemed as thought whatever was bothering him was truly upsetting to the thief. He quickly straightened, brushing off his suit as if it had never happened. “Thank you kindly, Tantei-kun.”

Shinichi shut the window behind him and closed the blinds. “What’s wrong? Are you in danger?”

“The only thing in danger, Tantei-kun, is my dignity.” KID sighed. “A mutual acquaintance of ours, one Hakuba Saguru, has decided to make himself a menace. So, I’m calling in that favor you owe me.”

Shinichi’s heart skipped a beat. Hakuba… it was rare that Shinichi could work a case with the strict foreign detective, but he enjoyed their time together. Hakuba was brilliant, with an excellent taste in literature, and apparently, a big enough threat to KID that the thief would use the one favor he gained helping Shinichi with the Black Organization. He swallowed. He couldn’t exactly say no, not after KID had helped him so much. “And what, exactly do you want me to do?”

KID grinned, but to Shinichi, it was nearly a leer. “I need you to come with me. Once we arrive at our destination, I’ll tell you.” He clearly could see Shinichi’s discomfort, so he added. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing illegal. But your pride… might not survive.”

Shinichi gulped.

***

Saguru glared. Kuroba, two rows to his left and a seat ahead, didn’t notice. Or he pretended not to notice in order to get Saguru off guard. Saguru in the perfect position to watch his prey, yet frustration rose in him. Despite over a year of surveillance, he was no closer to definitively proving that Kuroba Kaito was the Kaitou KID, a fact that irked him most severely. It had even gotten to the point where Saguru had managed to arrange for a police officer to dodge Kuroba’s every move to no avail. Though if Saguru’s suspicions were correct, the likely thief certainly had other methods of leaving his house, but he didn’t have a warrant to search the residency yet.

It didn’t help his mood that morning that Kudo Shinichi was once again reported missing.

Saguru thumbed through the missing person’s report on his phone in between classes. Kudo was reported missing by his neighbor’s ward, Haibara Ai, a child he distantly remembered being a friend of young Edogawa Conan before he moved to America. There was no sign of forced entry, usually indicating that Kudo had left his residence himself, but none of his clothes were missing, his phone and keys on his bedside table.

A conundrum. A very worrisome one at that. Saguru still remembered what happened last time Kudo mysteriously disappeared.

He hoped it wasn’t his fault. Saguru enjoyed Kudo’s company, to a degree that would likely be thought as inappropriate if voiced aloud, and he didn’t want his fellow detective hurt. Especially if it was his fault. Kudo had already been forced to track down one villainous organization, and Saguru had been the one to inform him of the people trying to kill Kaitou KID. Kudo could very well be trying to apprehend them at that very moment, and there was no telling how injured he might become.

His phone vibrated once. An unknown number had sent him a message. A scam? No, it was a picture, though his particular texting app required he download each image before they appeared. Impatiently, he clicked it. Did another fangirl get ahold of his number…!

Saguru nearly broke his phone. There, on the screen, was a photo of Kudo, still in his night clothes, tied to a chair and gagged. A white arm was wrapped around his neck, connected to a white thief, holding his head up for the camera. There was early signs of bruising on Kudo’s cheekbone, and a dazed look in his eye that screamed concussion.

His eyes flicked to Kuroba. He didn’t have his phone out; timed messages from a burner then? Before he could confront his classmate, another message came, just text this time.

Did you wake up to something missing, Tantei-san?

Nearly shaking with anger, Saguru typed his response.

This is a new low, even for you Kuroba.

The reply was instant.

Kuroba? Do you still think I’m your classmate? Besides, I wouldn’t call this a “new low”. More like… a different branch of my current low.

Saguru paled, barely paying attention to the teacher entering the room. That was no stock reply, it couldn’t have been a timed message. And Kuroba’s hands were visible.

He couldn’t be wrong, could he?

To make sure, he sent another message.

You’re not going to get away with this. Return Kudo now.

Or what? You’ll take “drastic” measures? I’m terrified, Tantei-san.

Another photo. This time, Kudo was clearly in KID’s arms, restrained with an arm across his chest. One of KID’s hands was secure around Kudo’s throat, while the other was dipping into his shirt.

His phone cracked under the sudden pressure of his grip. His eyes flickered to Kuroba who still was, maddeningly, not doing anything.

Why are you doing this?

Why? Tantei-san, you didn’t think that you were the only one interested in our favorite detective, were you?

Is this merely an attempt to incite me? You figured out my feelings and decided to mock me for them?

The confession made Saguru feel nauseous. Because he did like Kudo, romantically although he would never speak aloud about it. There was no evidence that the other detective thought of him as more than a friend and Saguru was… well, he wasn’t happy about it, but he could be content.

But how did Kuroba—KID—realize the extent of his feelings?

Mock? Tell me, Tantei-san, is there anything to mock?

I don’t know how you discovered the extent of my feelings for Kudo-kun, but I promise you, you will regret this, Kaitou KID. Kudo means more to me than you’ll ever know, and if there’s one bruise on his body, you’ve stolen your last jewel.

There was a pause in the writing, and Saguru took the moment to try to calm down, when—

Then I advise you announce your feelings soon, Tantei-san. Otherwise, I might decide to keep him.

The third photo, Kudo being forced to sit on KID’s lap, his sleep-shirt unbuttoned, lecherous grin on KID’s face, one of the thief’s hands reaching for—

He slammed his phone down on the table, the screen cracking.

“KUROBA!!”

“Hakuba-san, sit down!”

***

Kaito hummed merrily as he unlocked the entrance to his KID-cave, the threat to his secret identity now safely defeated. Sure, he nearly got choked out by Hakuba, but the teacher had put a stop to that, giving the detective detention too. And with that detention, Kaito was sure the Brit’s father would no longer allow Hakuba access to his manpower, since it was only because he thought Hakuba “mature” that he had the officers to stalk him everywhere.

Finally, he could relax—

“Are you going to unchain me?”

“Tantei-kun!” Kaito smiled brightly at the detective he had chained in his basement. Kudo was easily able to get up from his armchair and move around—the chain connecting his leg to the chair long enough so he could get to the bathroom and minifridge—but unable to escape. Kaito was a considerate kidnapper after all, especially since he had to sneak Kudo in through the sewer entrance to avoid the police outside.

At Kudo’s side was the cell phone used to aggravate Hakuba. Kaito had gotten a glance at Kudo’s work after pickpocketing Hakuba and it was good. At least, it sounded close enough to KID and worked Hakuba up into pseudo-confessing, so score.

Kaito bowed. “Thank you very much for your assistance in today’s trick. You made a beautiful assistant!”

“So long as you delete those photos, I don’t care what kind of assistant I was.” He tossed the phone at Kaito. He caught it with one hand. “When you asked for my help, I thought it would be for something more serious.”

“This was serious!” Meddling in the love lives of his favorite detectives was extremely serious! With how emotionally repressed the two were, they’d never end up confessing. Speaking of which, Kaito leered at Kudo. “So, did you realize why you were so effective in enraging Tantei-san?”

Kudo looked away, face stoic but there was a light flush on his cheeks. “…I did.”

Kaito smiled, satisfied. “Then my task is complete. Just make sure to name one of the adopted babies after me~!”

The comment was totally worth the soccer ball to the face.

[emptymasks]

Finding something worth taking

Pairing: Erik / Raoul de Chagny

Words: 7401

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Tags: 5+1 Things | Basically | Highwayman AU | Thief Erik | First Meetings | Horsemen | Guns | Horses | Fluff | Class Differences | Robbery | Sexual Tension | Romance

Read on Ao3 @ emptymasks (can’t link it or tumblr will block this post)

Notes: Prompt from an anonymous asker in @fallenidolandfalsefriend​ ‘s askbox. I do not know who you are but thank you for the idea. And thank you Fi for giving me your blessing to use a prompt you got.

Summary: "Well, what do we have here?" The man had to bend considerably to fit through the doorway of the carriage, neck bending harshly against the ceiling as he towered over Raoul. "Such a pretty little thing all alone so late at night. Some little lord? Surely nothing more important with no one here to protect you-"

"A Vicomte, thank you very much. And I need no one's protection other than my own," Raoul was retorting before he could stop himself.

"Someone with some spirit. How... refreshing. Well, little Vicomte. What do you have for me?"

(Alternate title: 5 times Erik robbed Raoul's carriage, and 1 time he got more than he intended to steal.)

Moonlight flickered in and out between the barren branches of the trees that lined either side of the road, light cascading against Raoul's cheeks in small glimpses before being snatched away again. The wheels of the carriage rolled smoothly against the dirt road, only occasionally bumping over some small stone.

It was quiet. Perhaps too quiet.

The lack of birds and wildlife scurrying about and crying was not unusual in the winter months, but even still...

"I know it's a shortcut you seem most fond of gazing at when it's in bloom, but Raoul I would caution you about going down that way. The cold tends to bring out all sorts of vagrants and miscreants," Philippe, his older brother, had warned him before he left.

Raoul felt a little awful for it, but the idea of some danger only had made him more intrigued. He had no death wish, of course not. But as a child he'd been so drawn to stories of fantasy, of pirates, of vigilantes on horseback. He remembered his uncle telling him stories of the famed highwayman Dick Turpin after Raoul's parents had gone to bed and the two of them would sneak downstairs and sit by the fire.

The curiosity was starting to twist a little in Raoul's stomach as they continued down the road. It would only be a minute or so before they would turn off the wooded lane onto a more open road and then another few minutes more until the horses would be clattering against cobblestone and there'd be streetlamps craning overhead. Just a few minutes more.

Moonlight once against vanished from Raoul's face, but this time seemingly with a gust of wind as something seemed to fly right past the window. He slid against to the edge of the bench where it met the wall and pressed his cheek against the glass, straining his eyes as he tried to see to the front of the carriage. But he couldn't see anything. His blue eyes almost glowed with his blonde hair a dusty halo as the light glinted across his face.

Then all of a sudden a whiny broke out and Raoul wondered if one of his horses as the carriage came to an abrupt stop. He was about to rush out of the door when he heard the thud of something, or someone, landing on the ground. Perhaps Nicolas, his driver, was sorting out whatever had happened. Maybe there was a fox in the road.

But Raoul knew those footsteps were too quiet to be Nicolas'. It was as if the owner almost was skirting along the dirt, maybe billowing it up around his feet.

Raoul slunk back away from the window to the middle of the bench, his heart unsure whether to start pounding in his chest, or freeze like a stone.

The door to the carriage swung open to fast it almost swung all the way around and crashed against the outside wall.

A thing leg clad in a heavy black boot clacked against the wooden floor of the carriage. Then another one. And then a tall back mass slunk into the room, a great black cape billowing around him as he raised his arm to show the barrel of his gun. He had a black hat tipped against his head and an equally dark mask covering his entire face. There was something draping down the back of his hat that looked too odd to be hair. Fabric, that's what it was, an extra precaution to protect his identity?

He moved slowly, almost methodically, across the carriage. His long thin limbs cut darkness across the now moonlit full carriage as he craned his head around.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man had to bend considerably to fit through the doorway of the carriage, neck bending harshly against the ceiling as he towered over Raoul. "Such a pretty little thing all alone so late at night."

A gloved hand reached out and pressed itself harshly against Raoul's skin as a thumb griped his chin, index finger digging into the hollow of his cheek. Raoul could smell that the gloves were made of leather and the velvet voice that came from behind the dark mask made Raoul's heart finally decide it wanted to speed up.

"What are you then? Some little lord? Surely nothing more important with no one here to protect you-"

"A Vicomte, thank you very much. And I need no one's protection other than my own," Raoul was retorting before he could stop himself.

"Someone with some spirit. How... refreshing. Well, little Vicomte. What do you have for me?"

Raoul blinked up at him. Forgetting for a moment as the man withdrew his closeness what the man would want with him. He soon remembered how to move though as the man rolled his shoulder and his cape moved allowing the light of the moon streaming through the open door to catch against the silver of its cylinder. Raoul recognised the model of gun; A Chamelot-Delvigne 1873 revolver. It was the gun issued to all members of the French army, and back at home Raoul had hidden own slight variation of it from his time in the Navy.

If only he had brought it with him. Philippe had asked why he never carried it around with him and Raoul had said it was just a bit of a hassle to fit under his clothes. That had been a lie. Philippe would have called Raoul too sensitive and told him to grow up if he's replied with how his hands shook at the idea of having to hold that gun again.

Raoul slid his hands into the coat that was cast aside on his seat as the man sat down opposite him. He fumbled blindly to find his coat pocket, not wanting to take his eyes off the man, before finally clutching his coin pouch. The man seemed to perk up at the noise of the coins clinking together and quickly outstretched his hand. Raoul hesitated for a moment before dropped the coins into the stranger’s palm.

He watched as the man took the coins out, counting them and inspecting them.

"They're not fake coins," Raoul said, indignity.

"Oh forgive me," He could hear the man's smirk. "I didn't mean to offend your delicate pride." He chuckled and pouch vanished beneath his dark cloak.

"Anything else?" The man leaned forward, perching his elbows against his thighs.

"I'm not some pretty maiden with a neck full of pearls and jewels."

"Not a maiden no... But who knows what you'd look like draped in pearls."

"Must you tease me as well as steal from me?"

"It's hard not too when you flush so much. People either fear me or hate me, and yet you sit there talking back to me but making no attempt to stop me, with such a dusting of pink across your nose and cheeks."

Raoul didn't know how to respond to that. It surely couldn't be true and yet he could feel the heat on his face. Maybe it was just the excitement or adrenaline. Maybe he could make believe that it was, since it was unlikely he'd ever see this man again.

Oh god and what would be tell Philippe? He really didn't want an 'I told you do' talk when he arrived home. He could just not tell Philippe? And maybe he could convince Nicolas not to tell? They wouldn't want to worry Philippe, of course.

Lost in his worried thoughts, Raoul didn't notice how the man had gotten up.

"Wait, what's your name?" Raoul blurted out, causing the man to freeze, one of his feet already out of the door.

"Why," He snarled. "So you can try and report me?"

"I have would have very bad luck with that, considering I have no idea what you look like. I'm simply... curious."

"About my name?"

"About you."

The man blinked. Raoul could tell as the moonlight caught against the man's eyes as they tried to hide away with the mask, but they glowed almost golden. He looked all at once not like a fearsome thief, but a confused cat being offered a plate of milk as it sat shaking in an alleyway, pondering and pondering about what possible ulterior motive this could have.

"Erik," He said at last.

And before Raoul could respond the man hoped out of the carriage, shut the door behind and in mere seconds was riding back past the window in a flurry of shadow

-----

Nicolas had promised not to mention last week's unplanned stop to Philippe, worried that it might put him at risk of losing his job. But he hadn't been able to hide the fear from his eyes when Raoul asked them to go back down that road on his return from his next trip to the opera.

"But Monsieur what if he is there again? I've heard others talking. They call him The Phantom, for how he seemingly appears out of nowhere and disappears back into the night. They say his body is made of pure shadow."

"He won't harm you Nicolas, the worst he'll do is take my coin, and I have plenty of it to spare. I assure you he's just a mad made of flesh like you and I"

Nicolas had looked at him strangely, but knew Raoul well enough to not fruitlessly try to change his mind.

Raoul wondered if Erik would recognise the carriage. He'd seemed to have found Raoul strange, not that Raoul could blame him as he had been acting a little out of sorts but... he'd just been so intrigued, he couldn't explain it. But perhaps Raoul had embarrassed himself too much last time that Erik wouldn't approach them.

They were only half way down the road when Raoul felt the carriage come to a stop and his heart started beating harder in his chest.

The door opened delicately and Raoul's heart sank as he thought surely it must be Nicolas. But his vision was clouded in black and as the shape settled Raoul saw Erik's cape fall about his shoulders as he sank into the opposite bench.

He started at Raoul for so long Raoul wondered if he was being dared to speak first. Maybe Erik wanted him to explain himself. Well, he would have to wait then.

Eventually, which was really just a minute or so, Erik crossed his legs, annoyed and agitated.

"Why are you here again, little Vicomte?"

"Well," Raoul shifted in his seat. "I always prefer to take this route. It's more scenic. And it is technically a short-cut for me, so..."

"You forgot about me so quickly then," Erik said it with a tone of jest, but underneath Raoul sensed that thought it was true.

"No, of course I didn't forget you."

"Then why are you back here on my road? Did you think after one robbery I would let you pass a second time?"

"Actually I... What if I hoped that you would...?”

"That I would let you pass? Foolish boy-"

"No, I meant... I meant what if I hoped that you would show up. That we would meet again."

The black mask stared at him as two tiny pinpricks of gold vanished and returned.

"Why would you want that? Not taking pity on me, I hope. I'm not some sort of charity."

"Oh not at all. I have a feeling you wouldn't have any fun with that."

"What makes you think I'm having fun now?" Erik stood and lent over Raoul, his cape swinging down around them both.

"Well," Raoul's gaze flickered from between Erik's hand and his face. One of Erik's hands was pressing against the bench in the spot between his legs, his other hand supported against the wall next to Raoul's head.

"You haven't left yet," Raoul breathed out, as he remembered breathing was a thing he was supposed to be doing.

"I'm just waiting for my prize," Erik's voice was deep and Raoul swore he could feel hot breath from where Erik's mouth would be.

Oh god Raoul could feel himself swallow hard, hyper aware of where Erik's hand was and how close it was to his thigh even as Erik seemed to lean in closer. What prize was he talking about... For surely he couldn't mean...? He had called Raoul pretty last time, but that had surely been a jest? But he seemed to still be getting closer.

Raoul blinked as a jingling sound rang out at the side of his head. Oh. Right. The money. He could feel Erik's grin as Raoul shifted awkwardly, pulling on the bottom of his honey yellow waistcoat. His eyes shifted down.

"Your gloves have a hole in the thumb," Raoul said absentmindedly, eyes drawn to the pale skin peeking out from the dark leather.

Erik drew his hand back from the seat as though he was ashamed. "Erik tore it, he didn't mean to..." He muttered, voice becoming something almost childlike, as if he thought Raoul were scolding him. He seemed to realise it himself and his eyes flashed with anger.

"What is it to you anyway?" He hissed, yet still hiding his hand from Raoul's view.

"Nothing, I'm only..." Only what? Was he just curious? Or concerned?

Why was Erik reacting like that anyway? Raoul was only trying to be polite. Kind. Was that odd? He supposed in his line of work Erik wasn't used to kindness. The only people he interacted with would be those who he robbed and why would they show him kindness. So why was Raoul showing him kindness.

It was unexplainable. There was something about Erik that Raoul just felt drawn too. Perhaps that was unhealthy, for him to find the danger exciting. Erik had a gun for Christ's sake. How could he say he had a feeling Erik wouldn't use it.

How many other people had Erik shared his name with though? He had given it on their first meeting and yet... No one else seemed to know it. Maybe no one else had asked.

He thought to apologise, but for what? Erik's back was already turned.

"Good night, monsieur," Erik said before he hoped out of the carriage, back into the night.

-----

"What is it that you want from me?"

Erik stood in doorway of the carriage, one foot pressing inside and the rest of his body hunched and twisted to try and look at Raoul without having to actually come inside.

"Three weeks in a row, twice already I have robbed you, and yet you keep coming here?"

"Where else would I find you?" Raoul said with a look of ease but inside felt slight nerves.

A week had passed in agony. Every nightfall with the knowledge Erik was out here on this road had started to drive him mad. It was pure madness and nothing more. To be intrigued by this man, this Phantom, to desire him. With every evening Raoul felt it more and more and had to come to terms with the realisation that it was not some mere thrill of danger he felt in Erik's presence. There was no childhood boyish fantasy about meeting a highwayman, or evening joining him on an adventure. It was the reality of realising that less than romantic reality of Erik's tattered clothing, the thinness of his bones, the unfamiliarity with basic human kindness, paired with that mystery, those eyes, that voice which teased him so, that made Raoul's skin grow hot as he laid in his bed.

"Aren't you going to come inside?"

Erik lifted the weight off his foot that was inside the carriage, before pressing it back down. He rocked back and forth as he contemplated to himself, before planting himself across from Raoul.

An awkward silence filled the air as Erik shuffled among the seat.

Finally he turned his head and folded his arms over his chest. "So, what do you have for me?"

"The same as always," Raoul tossed his coin pouch at Erik. "Oh, and these."

He reached out his hand for Erik to take the items from him. Erik was cautious, as if somehow this could be a trap, before grabbing the edge of the fabric and sliding them out of Raoul's hand. They were turned over and back again as they were inspected.

"Gloves?"

"Yes, gloves," Raoul nervously bit on his lip. Why should he be feeling nervous?!

"These seem too large to fit you."

"Well, yes of course. They wouldn't make a very good gift for you if I bought them in my own size."

Raoul hadn't thought it possible the night could get any quieter, and yet...

Oh he wished he could see what Erik's face looked like behind his mask. His entire body had frozen on the spot, not even blinking. Was he shocked? Was he disgusted? Was there a flush across his cheeks? Raoul knew he could feel his own burning up the longer the silence progressed.

"A... gift?" Erik choked out.

"Yes, they're a gift, Erik. I noticed last time that yours had a hole in so I thought..."

"That you would bribe me away with fine leather gloves?"

"What? No, not at all. I just thought, well I just hoped that... you'd like them."

Erik squinted at him, and Raoul felt a little pleased at being able to make out some emotions Erik conveyed. He leaned over Raoul, slightly raising from his seat, as he seemed to be trying to wring out the truth from Raoul with just his glare, and then his eyes widened as if seeing and daring to believe Raoul was already telling him the truth.

He sat staring down at the gloves that hung limply over his hands. Raoul sucked in a breath and slowly, as if approaching a deer that might spook, took a couple of steps across the carriage and quietly as he could fell to his knees in between Erik's parted legs.

Erik didn't seem to realise he was there until Raoul tentatively reached up and brushed his hands against Erik's own. He tried to recoil but Raoul gripped his hands, stroking his thumbs against them until Erik seemed to calm down enough for Raoul to peel the aged and falling apart gloves off his hands.

As the leather peeled away Raoul stared at Erik's hands even as they twitched. Out of nervousness perhaps? That was... a little adorable. What a strange word to use to describe such a man. Raoul chuckled slightly to himself as he became distracted by running his thumb down the length of Erik's long, rather elegant looking fingers.

Clutching at the fabric of his trousers, Erik tried to pull away again. "You laugh at Erik's skin."

Raoul blinked in confusion. Was that something Erik was insecure about?

"If you must know, I was actually thinking they were quite beautiful. I only laughed at my own oxymoron of thinking of your demeanour now as almost adorable contrasted with your usual imposing one."

He looked down again at Erik's hands again as he once again felt Erik's eyes staring at him with such confusion. As Erik slowly unclenched his hands, Raoul could now see harsh lines of scars that began at the backs of Erik's knuckles and disappeared up his sleeves. Of course... no one with a happy upbringing would probably find themselves in this line of work. But then Raoul thought of the high collar, the mask... Was all of Erik's skin covered in such scars?

Raoul took the new gloves he had bought, something of far better quality than Erik could ever afford, and slid them up Erik's fingers. He did the same with the other hand, not before indulging himself and placing a kiss to the back of Erik's hand, his pink lips plush and soft against the hard and cold skin.

He looked up and felt as though Erik's eyes were burning into him. The second glove slid up Erik's hand and Raoul maintained eye contact as Erik's fingers twitched and caught against his chin.

"I hope they're comfortable," Raoul's voice was quiet, not wanting to shatter the moment.

The leather crinkled as Erik flexed his fingers, screwing them up into fists and then straightening them out again. Raoul wanted to say something more, he wasn't sure what, but he wanted to open his mouth to speak again but the words lost themselves as the carriage suddenly rocked to the side and the moment was gone.

"Cesar, no," Erik made to get up.

Raoul had the dreadful shameful feeling that they'd been caught by some companion of Erik's. But as he turned around he heard a strong puff of breath and the carriage rocked as a beautiful white horse rocked into the carriage, his head already peering through the door. Erik fussed over the stallion, shooing him outside and seemingly giving him a stern talking too.

Trailing behind them into the cold night air, Raoul stared at this strange tall skeleton of a man draped in nothing but black talking to horse or pure white as though it was a badly behaving dog.

Both of them turned to Raoul as he started laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Erik seemed almost flustered as he brushed down his cloak and fiddled with his hat. Outside the carriage was only slightly brighter, but Raoul could make out a little more clearly the layers of cape and coat and waistcoat,. He could see the line where Erik's boots laid against his trousers just below the knee. He could see how the mask wasn't some cheap piece of cloth and was something sculpted as it sat neatly against Erik's face. Had Erik made it himself?

"Doesn't a bright white horse make you stand out a little?"

"It wasn't really ever in my plan," Erik huffed. "But Cesar is a good boy. Loyal. And his previous owners were not too kind to him. I suppose I saw some of myself in him."

Erik's voice trailed off somewhere farther away as he seemed to forget himself, then he quickly and effortlessly pulled himself atop Cesar.

"Good night. Your home is not too far away, no? You might be lucky enough to get back before the rain starts."

"You didn't follow me home one night, did you?" Raoul laughed and then stopped as Erik turned his head. "Erik?"

The cape nearly hit Raoul in the face as Erik swung up onto Cesar. "Good night, Vicomte de Chagny. Safe travels."

The bastard had the audacity to tip his hat before he rode away.

-----

"I wonder what your driver must think. The young Vicomte de Chagny fraternizing with a common thief. Surely someone is wondering what is taking you so long to get back home?" Erik said as he stretched his legs out, seemingly content to start treating the carriage like a sitting room.

"Nicolas wouldn't tell anyone. And if he had the inkling too, I can appease him as I appease you."

"Is that what you do? Make a habit of paying people to get what you want."

"Of course not," Raoul snapped. "If I were to slip him an increase in his wages it would only be to protect the both of us from any scandal."

Erik sat up straighter. "I meant no offence... How strange you are, little Count, to think you must protect me from others and not the other way around."

"My name is Raoul," Choosing to avoid answering Erik's probing statement as he didn't really want to think of the moral implications of any of this, Raoul blurted out something he'd been mulling over for a while. "You knew though, probably, I mean you already figured out who I was so... But I just meant that, well, you can call me Raoul. I always call you Erik."

"I didn't give you any other name."

"Something tells me perhaps you only have the one."

"Something did?" Erik perched his elbows on his legs and lent forwards to rest his chin on his hands. "So there is some perception going on in there. What exactly makes you think that?"

Raoul felt all of a sudden embarrassed. "I don't rightly know... And I don't mean to offend, I just... You seem not like someone who doesn't have a home, but perhaps someone who has never had one. And orphans don't usually have surnames."

"You could not offend me."

"You say that as if you aren't easily offend."

"Oh, unlike you?"

Letting his back hit against the wall, Raoul conceded. "Will you tell me if I was right?"

Erik shifted his in his seat, his fingers on one hand rubbing up at down the other's knuckles. "I was not an orphan."

"Oh?" Raoul wasn't going to be surprised if he had been wrong about everything. He was very well versed with people from lower classes so everything he said could have been wrong. It was mostly ideas drawn from lone wanderers from tales he had heard growing up, granted they were works of fiction.

"But," Erik continued. "You can take some pride in thinking I'd never had a home. I'd at least never been in a place that felt like one."

Oh well... Pride wasn't really what Raoul was feeling now. He thought if he worked things out about Erik, or Erik began to like or trust him enough to tell him, that he would feel joyful. But he supposed the reality of growing up alone, or at least feeling alone, wasn't something that should be romanticised.

Erik seemed to not know what to do with himself as he kept shifting and when he coughed Raoul thought he was going to ask for Raoul's money, but he simply went quiet again.

"You don't have to sit over there, you know," Raoul's heart fluttered in his chest. This was it. He was going to find out Erik's true intentions. "There's plenty of room on this bench."

"And this one is equally comfortable."

"Oh the great Phantom of the roads, afraid to sit next to me."

"I'm not afraid," Erik snarled.

"No?" Raoul raised an eyebrow up and smiled cheekily, a smile that only widened as Erik got up and grumbled under his breath.

"Insistent boy. I have half the mind you'll be the death of me," Flicking his cape up so it did not get as caught up underneath him, Erik sat next to Raoul with a huff.

"Oh, how so?" Raoul turned, sliding a little to close some of the distance between them and hoping Erik wouldn't notice.

"You keep letting yourself get robbed so often, people will think you're an easy target."

"Well then people will have the misfortune of finding out quite the opposite."

Erik laughed. "Oh will you fight them away with your feistiness, my little Vicomte."

"I'll have you know I was in the navy," Raoul puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders. "I could take a robber or two if I had the mind too."

There was silence as Erik started at him.

"Then why haven't you?" He asked, his voice soft all of a sudden.

"Why haven't I what?" Raoul furrowed his brow.

"Had the mind too."

Raoul's mouth went dry. Erik seemed impossibly close and he wasn't sure when or if either of them had started sliding down the seat.

He wondered then what it would feel like to have those leather clad hands pining his own wrists against the wall behind him. What it would feel like to have a leg shoved between his own, as Erik bore his weight down on him. Maybe both of his wrists would be captured in but one hand, long fingers grasping him like a rope, as Erik would grab his chin and tilt it upwards to claim his mouth. Would he have to tell Raoul to be quiet less his driver hear them? He wouldn't want a scandal, would he? He'd let himself fall open on the seating as Erik would remain swathed in black, undressing him and claiming another prize for himself.

Or would Erik let himself be pushed back. Raoul thought about the previous week as he had knelt between Erik's legs to put his gloves on and how Erik had seemed so unused to the touch. Would he let Raoul guide him backwards, limbs tangling in the small space, as he let someone take him apart for the first time? Had anyone ever touched Erik in that way?

He reached out, mind running with scenarios, and traced his hand over Erik's, giving him the opportunity to turn away. But Erik stood still as a statue. Raoul grew bolder, his fingers skimming along Erik's shoulders, until they reached under his jaw and slid under the edge of his mask.

That seemed to snap Erik out of the moment as his hands were suddenly around Raoul's wrists, squeezing painfully like a vice.

But Raoul did not want to give up. Erik's panic only fuelled Raoul's curiosity. He seemed far too fearful to be solely worried about his identity being discovered. Raoul thought back on the scars he'd seen along Erik's hands.

"I won't be scared," Raoul whispered, his fingers tracing lightly against the dry skin he'd managed to find.

"You will be horrified," Erik's voice echoed against the mask now longer pressing taut against his mouth.

"Then, just a little..." Raoul pressed still, half expecting to be thrown across the carriage, but half not caring. If Erik would give him this little leeway.

He pressed the mask up just enough to see Erik's mouth, stopping as he saw what would had had to be the start of Erik's nostrils, but Raoul saw no dip of flesh between them. He let his hands rest of the mask there, simply holding it up but not pushing it, until Erik realised Raoul meant that he would reveal no more of his face. The grip on his wrists loosened, but the hands did not leave, for they could not trust Raoul to keep his word.

Raoul traced his thumbs up the pale skin of Erik's sunken cheeks, they were hollowed out and yet Raoul could sense the strong cheekbones above. His skin was dry and cold, not soft but not rough either. His thumbs drew closer together as he found paper thin lips set in a hard line, but they trembled as Raoul touched them.

Having found his mark in the darkness of the carriage, Raoul slide his hands back against Erik's cheeks, brushing against the fabric that was drawn down over his ears. The skin around the back of Erik's head was smooth, the only hair catching on Raoul's nails being nothing but tiny wisps.

Erik gasped as Raoul kissed him, as if with Raoul so close he still didn't expect it would happen. Raoul was suddenly struck with the question of whether Erik had ever been kissed before and the idea of this being his first made Raoul want to make it all the more enjoyable. His hands slid against Erik's skin as he moved his lips slowly, parting them for a second before kissing Erik again. And then again. And again and he wanted to keep going but felt that Erik's hands had slipped from grabbing his wrists to clutching at the fabric of his sleeves as his whole body shook.

"Erik, I'm sorry, was that..." Raoul panted as withdrew. "Was that alright?"

He could see Erik's chest heaving and Raoul's hands pulled themselves back forwards and couldn't resist a final slide across Erik's lips, now slightly slick and wet.

His fingers pressed down despite trying to have some self-control and Erik jumped, head almost knocking against the ceiling, as he scrambled to pull his mask back down so quickly that Raoul's' hands were almost trapped underneath it, oh to be forever trapped between parted lips and porcelain.

"Erik, wait-"

But Erik had already pushed himself away and flung himself out of the carriage and as Cesar's white hide flashed past him Raoul felt the weight of his coins safely nestled in his pocket.

-----

The road was quiet as always and Raoul's heart pounded over and over and over again in his chest. It was as though the sound of it was the only thing he could hear. It seemed to rise and fall as the carriage finally turned onto the road, but as they got further and further down it... Raoul's heart only sank lower and lower.

Had he scared Erik off? He'd kissed Raoul back so... He wanted Raoul too, hadn't he? Wouldn't Erik be pleased to see him again?

But he had also run off right afterwards. Was he ashamed? But Raoul could give him so much. He could give Erik safety and security. Wouldn't Erik want that? He wouldn't have to stalk about in the cold and the rain. Or they could continue this? Whatever this was? Raoul only knew that he hadn't wanted to see anyone else this badly before.

They were past the middle of the road now, and there was still no sign of Erik. The night air seemed dead and stale as the wind blew shadows of gnarled fingers across Raoul's cheeks. Raoul didn't know what to do. They'd be at the end of the road soon, leaving Erik's domain, and he didn't know what to do.

He could just shout out of the window and ask Nicolas to stop... But he was already counting on Nicolas for his trust with enough of these visits. If he did that, how long should he wait? How embarrassing would it be if he stopped and Erik was out there just standing and laughing at how pathetic he looked and never approached the carriage at all?

Raoul pressed his hands against the window, peering out at the nothingness. And he said nothing, letting Nicolas take the carriage straight home.

-----

Raoul stayed up tossing and turning, before giving up on trying to sleep at all. He couldn't stop thinking if he'd made a terrible prideful mistake. He was so worried about what Nicolas would think, and what Erik would think, that he'd just let Nicolas drive on. What if Erik had been somewhere else and hadn't shown up yet? What if he'd thought Raoul just hadn't shown up?

Though what kept his stomach twisting was the idea that he'd read everything completely wrong and that Erik wasn't interested in him at all.

Pale sheets slid of his body as Raoul's feet padded against the cold floor so he could fetch his dressing gown. The deep maroon fabric kept him warm as he opened the doors to the small balcony window and let the wind chill his bones. He wondered if he should pick up smoking like his brother as he imagined doing anything other than just standing staring at the moon. Not that it wasn't a beautiful sight. But it wasn't going to bring him any comfort.

Sighing with resignation, Raoul shut the doors behind him and flopped down onto his bed. He'd not closed the curtains to the balcony, letting the moon shine down on his face. The light might keep him awake, but it wasn't as though Raoul thought he'd get much sleep now anyway. He closed his eyes and wondered if he could imagine being laid back against the seat in his carriage, the moonlight flickering in and out of view from behind his eyelids.

That... was only meant to be in his imagination though.

His entire body tensed as he realised he couldn't see the moonlight anymore.

He tried to keep his breathing as quiet and slow and consistent as possible as he started to slid up to his elbows. He knew if it was some burglar it was safer to act like he was asleep. But what would be the chances of a random burglar picking his bedroom window of all of them. Hadn't Erik followed him home one night? Had he followed him again and watched Raoul come to bed after they'd kissed?

As slowly as he could he turned his head to the side and opened his eyes.

Behind the glass doors was a tall shadow, a silhouette that was unmistakable with its long cape and hat. Raoul turned and sat on the edge of the bed, not breaking eye contact with where he was guessing Erik's face was.

The shadow didn't move. But neither did Raoul. No, Erik needed to be the one to decide here, Raoul was not going to chase him. There was... perhaps... the chance that Erik was here to kill him... That... hadn't even been anything he'd slightly considered. For all he knew Erik had killed before. And if he felt like he'd let Raoul see too much of himself, then Raoul was a threat to his secrecy.

Wood screeched as the balcony doors were slowly pushed open. It was like an ink etching from one of those books, this pure black shape standing out there as the curtains billowed out as the doors opened, the moonlight behind everything... Raoul held his breath.

"Why did you come back again?" Erik's voice seemed to rumble.

"So you were there!" Raoul shot to his feet. "Then why didn't you come over?"

"You answer my questions first, little Vicomte," Erik stalked a couple of steps towards him. Raoul swallowed as he realised the two of them had never been stood this close, only sat, and it allowed him to take in Erik's height more as he looked up at him.

"Why wouldn't I have? I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Erik, for God's sake I kissed you," Raoul hissed the words out as he noticed himself getting louder. "Why would any man do that to someone?"

"Maybe you thought it could spare your purse forever more. Maybe you thought it would make me soft you."

Raoul closed all the distance between them, almost stepping on Erik's toes.

"Aren't you already?"

Erik didn't reply and Raoul wanted to keep pressing.

"Aren't you, Erik? Erik? How many people have you shared that name with? How many people have you let get that close to you? How many people have you let have any slight peak under that mask?" Raoul's hands came up and hovered by the sides of Erik's face and watched as he flinched. "You want me."

"You're a vain, foolish little boy," Erik's voice slid out of his teeth as Raoul pushed the mask up once more, until he snapped, pushing Raoul's arms out of the way and tearing the mask of himself. His hat went fluttering to the floor.

Raoul gasped as he stared at Erik's face, but he steeled himself not to look away. His cheeks were not the only part of his face sunken in. His cheekbones and his temples stuck out, and down under his brow bone Raoul could barely tell where Erik's eye sockets started. Those eyes that had seemed black with pinpricks of yellow, were really a deep brown. Quite a pretty colour. But his skin was so dry it almost looked as though it had been sucked tight against his bones, and his nose... Or whatever was left of it. A little way down from between his eyes his face just seemed to opened up onto this hole that stopped where ones nostrils would. His mouth Raoul had already made himself quite familiar with.

"Is this what you wanted to see?!" Erik tried to shout out the words but with Raoul still gazing up at him they seemed to get stuck in his throat. "You can now say that curiosity of yours is satisfied and leave me be."

"No!" Raoul gripped his hands down without thinking, right against Erik's cheeks.

"No? Did you want a closer look?" Erik snarled, his hands starting to make fists in Raoul's dressing gown.

"My curiosity isn't satiated. Erik I... Won't pretend this isn't... shocking..."

That was a little bit of an understatement. Raoul had suspected something was wrong with Erik's face, though he'd thought scaring at worst. This was... Raoul didn't even know how to describe it... And yet he couldn't take his eyes of Erik. Was there something wrong with him to find something handsome in that face, even still? And it didn't change who Erik was.

"It... will take some getting used to," Raoul said. "But it's just a face. And a face that happens to be on a man I'm very interested in."

Erik gazed down at him, the hands clutching Raoul's robe were trembling. "Even still?"

He said it as if he dared not hope. But the fact that he'd said it at all, rather than shoot Raoul down with another insult or scream... That was progress.

"Even still."

Raoul pulled Erik's face down against him and as he kissed Erik again he felt Erik's tears sliding against their cheeks and he pulled Erik harder against him, slowly giving him the confidence to explore Raoul back. And slowly but surely, Erik's hands unclenched themselves and began to move and slide around Raoul's waist, brushing over his hips, until Erik's lips moves and pressed harder against him and Raoul felt himself tipping as Erik pushed him down onto the bed and knelt over him, their lips still connected.

He didn't know what they parted, but they had too eventually, less they suffocate one another. Raoul breathed out a laugh as he pulled himself up his bed, trying to aim his head to land on his pillows, and groaning as Erik just let himself go boneless on top of him. For such a slim man, he still had a fair bit of weight to him.

But he let Erik lie there, afraid that if he were to disturb Erik this would all shatter. That Erik would fly out off the balcony, into the night, and never to be seen again.

So he let Erik lay there, bony hips pressing awkwardly against Raoul's thigh, until Erik felt comfortable to say something.

"You should leave your driver behind next time."

Raoul laughed and shook his head.

"Ah and already so sure they'll be a next time. What should I do? Will the horses to go the right way with the power of my mind?" He mockingly pressed his fingers against his temples and Erik huffed, lightly slapping at his hands.

"You do know how to ride, don't you?"

Raoul sat up. "You expect me to ride out all that way on my own?"

"I'll protect you."

The words ran up Raoul's spine with a pleasant shiver.

"Well, at sweet as that is and as thrilled as those words make me, it doesn't change the fact you wouldn't be with the whole time. I'm not wishing for anyone else to start robbing me," Raoul paused and lent back against the headboard. "Though... You are right. I can't exactly keep making Nicolas an accomplice to this... Whatever this is... And I don't know how much longer he'll want to keep his mouth shut. Although, you know what?"

Erik rolled so that his stomach was pressing down over Raoul's outstretched leg. "What?" He asked, already sounding pessimistic.

"Well I have been making Nicolas stay out awfully long hours, it's not very fair to him. He can drive me around all day as much as he pleased, but perhaps... Well for the sake of not overworking the man, perhaps I could employ a new driver? Just for very late evening appointments?"

Sliding up to his knees, Erik's eyes blinked at him. "Would this new driver be paid?"

"Oh, quite handsomely. Though I would hope, there'd be other things he found enticing about the position rather than just the coin?" Raoul couldn't help the slight hint of a question leak out in his voice.

"My little Vicomte," Erik slid up his body, black fabric pooling everywhere and sinking against Raoul's cream bedspread. "It has not been just about the coin since you asked me my name."

And Raoul let himself sink into the bed with all that fabric, as he tried to the ties that kept it all together.

"You know this does not mean Erik is quitting his regular job?" Erik panted between their mouths.

Raoul grinned, knowing it was wrong. "Well, I always did fancy someone stealing my heart."

[voiceoftheashari]

Book Rec Ask Game: all of the 3's

3. a stand-alone that you wish was part of a series

Uprooted by Naomi Novik! I LOVED that book SO MUCH

6. a book with a pink cover

My copy of Pride & Prejudice is pink...

9. your favourite book of 2020

Ooo probably a tie between Beast Boy by Kami Garcia/Gabriel Picolo and Final Girls by Riley Sager.

12. a book that mentions food in the title

Blood and Chocolate by Annette Curtis Klause

15. a book rec you really enjoyed

Final Girls by Riley Sager.

18. your least favorite book ever

The Grace Year by Kim Liggett. I've never gotten almost to the end of a book and then quit because I couldn't stand it anymore. Tied with Court of Miracles by Kester Grant. I hate read the rest of it.

21. a book with a red cover

Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs by Caitlin Doughty

24. a book on your nightstand

I don't have one currently on my nightstand but I do have Neon Gods on my coffee table.

27. a book with a purple cover

The Guinevere Deception by Kiersten White

30. your favourite middle grade book

Truth or Dare by R.L. Stine.

33.. a book with a white cover

Kill Creek by Scott Thomas

36. a book that mentions time in the title

Gonna go easy with this and say A Wrinkle in Time

39. a book featuring your favourite character

Critical Role - Vox Machina: Origins. And if you want a none comic/graphic novel... Winter by Marissa Meyer

42. a book that made you want to scream by the time you got to the end

There's too many to count but recently.... The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab.

45. a book featuring the friends to lovers trope

Grishaverse first triology by Leigh Bardugo.

48. your favourite sci-fi novel

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.

51. a book that you found underwhelming

The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides.

54. a book with the best opening line

I honestly don't remember opening lines whoops!

57. a book you want to hit bonk your head with

Where Dreams Descend by Janella Angeler. It was marketed as Moulin Rouge meets Phantom of the Opera meets magicians and I just... couldn't by the end of it.

60. a book that you think about at 3am

I think about Crooked Kingdom a lot.... it hurts.

63. a book that actually made you laugh out loud

Scarlet by Marissa Meyer

66. a book that fucked you up

Lord of the fucking flies man. That shit wrecked me for daaaays

69. your favourite mythological retelling

Not Mythos so much as fairy tale but the Lunar Chronicles are REALLY good.

72. a book with a gorgeous cover

Spinning Silver or Uprooted by Naomi Novik. They're not fancy but I love how much they tell visually.

75. a book featuring the I'm not like other girls trope

All of the Throne of Glass series

78. your favourite royal read

The Hidden Diary of Marie Antoinette by Carolly Erickson. Or those books that were fake diaries meant for children of badass ladies from history.

81. a book that mentions flowers in the title

Flowers for Algernon. So sad.

84. your favourite dystopian read

I'm a basic bitch but Hunger Games.

87. a book with a predictable ending

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.

90. the longest book you've read

IDK I don't keep track but it ain't Les Mis... I didn't finish that lmao

93. a book featuring an unreliable narrator

Twilight.

96. a book with a restaurant/food setting

I know Persepolis has like mac n cheese in a big pot?? IDK I can't remember any book every whoops

99. a book with a strong female protagonist

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland.

102. your favourite dark academia read

Does Hamlet count?

105. your favourite crime novel

Final Girls by Riley Sager. Twist after twist!

108. a book with a small town setting

The Sun Down Motel by Simone St. James.

111. a book writing a book

The Writing Life by Annie Dillard. I hated it.

114. your favourite chick lit novel

The Bridgerton Series....

117. your favourite anthology

Anything by Shel Silverstein

120. a book about childhood friends

Nancy Drew series count?

123. a book recommended by a celebrity

I don't have any on my list because I don't trust them lol

126. your favourite spring read

I always get a hankering for reading The Wicked Lovely, but I never do...

129. a book with beautiful prose

Scythe by Neal Shusterman has passages that hits me hard.

132. who is your favorite person to go to for book recs?

My coworker always gives really good recs and @cassiefisherdrake always has a rec or two up their sleeve!

135. recommend any book you like!

Everyone should read the Grishaverse books, they're too good not to!

[revalise]

After the Sun [M] | 01

Pairing: Chrollo Lucilfer x Fem. OC

Genre: Romance and eventual smut

Rating: M

Words: 2500+

Notes: Huge thanks to Sky @pixiewombat for beta reading this chapter! 

All characters are humans unless otherwise stated in their description. Hence, Zazan is human in the story.

Masterlist | Prologue | 02

Chrollo Lucilfer gets everything he wants, when he wants-even if it means undergoing extreme measures. Nothing bothered him, until an aphrodite, Astra Gerber, appeared one night and stole from the infamous thief. In return that Chrollo doesn’t report her, he strikes a deal. But it could be more than what Astra bargained for. 

BOLD

“What do you mean your necklace was stolen?” Pakunoda eyed Chrollo carefully as he sat behind his desk at his penthouse, looking over the magnificent, illuminating lights of Yorknew City, while she stood in front of him.

“It just was stolen,” he deadpanned.

Pakunoda clicked her tongue. There was no way someone could steal from Chrollo—a bandit himself, and a good one at that.

She thought to herself for a moment. ‘Is he planning to steal the poor girl’s hatsu?’

Once, he had charmed the pants off of a girl who could write fortunes and stole her ability. Despite his obvious antics, he wasn’t found out, thanks to the girl’s inexperience. But when he managed to get a hold of how it should be done, he started doing it again and again. 

Pakunoda didn’t complain. Chrollo’s Bandit’s Secret was a trump card, not only for him, but for the rest of the group. When Chrollo noticed the drastic advantage the ‘strategy’ gave him, he started using it more often. To him, it felt like a shortcut.

And who would expect someone so sophisticated and pretty-boy looking?

She sighed and put the folder down on his desk.

Chrollo had asked Pakunoda to find the girl who had stolen his necklace. He remained vague about it, but knowing Chrollo, it might be something extremely important. 

He looked over the files, silently reading their contents, taking them in just as he consumed  knowledge from his ancient books. His fingers traced the letters of the name written in bold on one of the pages.

ASTRA BEATRIZ GERBER

Pakunoda gazed at him with suspicion. Meddling with this girl could endanger the nature of the group. She was nowhere near a simple girl, alright. The girl spelled trouble.

She was the illegitimate child of an acknowledged former lawyer, Martin Gerber, before he took over the Gerber family dynasty.  

This information wasn’t exactly kept a secret. It was silent gossip within the small circle of socialites and elites. Illegitimate children weren’t news to the circle. Three out of five families in the circle had a case of their own. But it so happened that the Gerber family was known to be conservative—faithful to their betrothed, or as painted by the media.

Nevertheless, it only took that mistake to have the head of the family, Rod Gerber,  wavering in his trust in Martin. To his dismay, this almost cost him the whole dynasty. Fortunately, Rod was a good man, unlike his son. To secure his position in becoming the next successor as the eldest, Martin had to keep the child and take her as his own.

It shamed Martin to do so, keeping an illegitimate of his own accord. Though his wife was noticeably against it, she had to agree if she wanted to be the wife of the very powerful man. Cleverly, she argued that it would bring discomfort to her family if the child were to live in the same house as them. Rod then agreed that Martin would just have to sustain the needs of the child in the mother’s care.

Chrollo took all of the information  in, almost feeling bad for the girl, if  it weren’t for his own experiences.  

The same thought as Pakunoda had crossed his mind. Her father had connections in law. If Chrollo, say for example, met the girl’s father and he decided to look deeper into Chrollo and his background, it wouldn’t really be a problem. The group knew how to cut their ties. They eliminated those who had seen them. But if worse came to worst, this could have blown the group’s cover. 

The Phantom Troupe weren’t regular thieves. They were thieves with intellect that calculated their every movement. Before they acted on anything, Chrollo, who had a personal philosophy of theological dualism - the balance between good and evil - that influenced his decisions, would first weigh his options. His actions were always calculated.

It was not that they feared the law or the man himself, but the Phantom Troupe managed to blend in with the crowd, no one knew of who they were. And the group loved being free despite the criminality they commit.

From the moment he first laid his eyes on her, he knew she was trouble.

But none of the information stopped him.

***

Zazan promised Astra dinner. But it was way past dinner, and the staff of the three-star Michelin restaurant she had booked kept going back and forth, assisting and asking for her order, which she refused to give until her aunt arrived.

Her aunt, Zazan, was her father, Martin’s, little sister. For all her life, she was her mother figure. Zazan always had her back whenever her father didn’t. Her aunt loved designer and luxury items, and was a designer herself. Hence, her love for luxury and designer.

To state it simply, Astra was given to her aunt after she lived with her dad for two years when her mother died. She was only six then.

She remembers how much scorn she received from Martin’s legitimate family, and how she was treated as less than a freeloader, being an illegitimate child. Not once did her father defend her from them.

After all, she was a nobody, aside from the Gerber blood running through her veins.

Astra, at four, never spoke with anyone, not even the maids that served the family in their mansion. She remained quiet, hiding inside her room, but doing everything she was told—even standing for hours, with no food and water, beside the silver knight decorations in the hallway of their house because her older half-sister told her to. She ignored the numbing sensation in her knees until a helper saw her.

That was, until Zazan returned to the city and took interest in the meek, little girl she once was. And for the first time in two years, she spoke and her voice sounded hoarse. Her words were: “Can I come with you?”

From then on, Zazan took her as her own. Martin had no objections, nor did his family. In fact, the situation was in their favor. In his father’s eyes, as long as Astra wasn’t disobedient or brought problems—more than she already had, being an illegitimate—upon the family, it’d be fine.  

However, it seemed Astra grew up to be a spitting image of Zazan’s personality. Astra grew bolder, braver, and stronger, all because she had Zazan to look up to. But Astra wasn’t nice on a daily basis. She was nowhere near a saint.

“May I take your order, miss?” a smiling boy, who looked a few years younger than Astra, came to assist her. But a girl, wearing the same uniform as him, came to them, gripping his arm.

“Sorry, miss.” The staff leaned in closer to the boy’s ear to whisper, “I’ve been trying to take her order. She’s waiting for someone, but I think she got stood up.”

“Oh...” the boy muttered “Too bad, she actually looks pretty.”

He turned his attention to Astra, about to apologize, when she interrupted him.

Astra laced her fingers together, her elbows on the table, and rested her head on her hands. With a sarcastic tone, she said, “If you’re going to talk shit about me, consider doing it somewhere else where I can’t hear you.”

“S-sorry, miss…” the staff muttered, afraid. All of their customers had power, because only the rich could afford the place. They feared they could lose their jobs. Most of all, they knew who Astra was. They knew of her influence.

“But thanks for complimenting my looks.” Astra flashed a grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “Get me some champagne.”

They scurried to give her what she wanted, too obvious in wanting to leave her sight.

Astra leaned on her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. She clicked her tongue in impatience. For once, she regretted asking for champagne. She felt the urge to leave. To elites like her, hunger didn’t come, anyway; she’d still have a lot of food at home. She could leave before they gave her champagne, and leave cash three times the bill, but her pride made her stay.

And she hated to admit it, but she really needed to see her aunt. She needed someone.

She needed someone to hold her at times she felt like slipping away.

As Astra waited impatiently, a man sat at the opposite end of the table. It happened so quickly, she didn’t have the time to process it. The man looked studly in his crisp suit. He wore a white shirt underneath, topped with a dark blazer and slacks.

“I’m sorry. Did I keep you waiting?” He asked in his most polite tone while he pulled at the opening of his blazer.

Her eyebrows shot up and she clicked her tongue, but she tried to maintain her composure. After all, it was a restaurant for the high-class. Manners above all.

“Sorry, you must have the wrong table.”

The man chuckled. “Oh, have you forgotten about me, miss? Allow me to reintroduce myself,” he grinned, “I’m the man you stole from a few nights ago.”

For a moment, perplexity was etched on her face, ‘Bitch, which one?’ 

Yes, the man looked a little familiar, but with the amount of people she was acquainted with, it was hard to keep track of the long list. 

“Oh, I see,” she said plainly. “I must’ve stolen from you when I was drunk.” 

Astra leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. She whispered, “You see, I have a habit of doing those when I’m drunk.” She flashed her sultry smile. 

Her hands reached for her fuchsia devotion bag made of python skin. It featured an exclusive bejeweled personalized heart closure, inspired by the techniques of fine jewelry, which etched her initials in it.

ABG

Astra clicked her tongue when her eyes met her initials on her bag. She laughed inwardly at how she sent it back to Italy when her initials weren’t in bold.

“How much was it? I could pay for it right now.”

The way the man grinned at her assured her that it’s done for. Game over. She wins. Whatever she did, she got away with it. Not because of her pull and connections, but because of her charm. And she knew it. She grinned at this. 

“Actually,” the man began, “I have other things in mind.”

“Oh,” Astra had a knowing smirk. She knew of what the man could possibly ask. It was no different. He was no different from all the other men she’d met before. ‘A night, perhaps?’

“Let’s hear it,” she said sultrily. 

It was the man’s turn to lean closer and rest his elbows on the table. He laced his hands together and flashed a smile. “I was thinking of jail time.”

Her hypocritical smile dropped. She was rendered shaken. Just as quick as the change in her mood, the sourness and bitterness of being embarrassed in front of the mysterious man in front of her, she showed her true colors. 

‘Where the fuck is my champagne?’ she thought.

Her back rested on her chair and she crossed her arms. “Name?” her tone was as rude as it could get. 

“Now we’re talking,” the man chuckled, and he rested his back on his chair as well. “Chrollo Lucilfer. I believe I already told you that. I’m hurt you forgot about me so easily.”

Astra didn’t reciprocate the demeanor Chrollo was showing. While Chrollo looked composed and polite, Astra, on the other hand, was irking in anger. 

“What do you want?” she spat, so rudely you wouldn’t think that it was the same woman who had been flashing sultry and inviting smiles.

“Nothing much, actually,” he grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll discuss the matter, and I promise you it’d be done with.”

If it were only a few minutes ago, she would have gone with him at that very moment. She would’ve taken him to some backroom and let them do their business. But it was different now. 

To her, it seemed like the man didn’t want any physical relationships. He was danger, nothing else. 

“And if I refuse?” 

“Your scandalous actions will not only be known by your father, Martin Gerber, but your little circle as well,” he replied.

“I’m impressed. You’ve done your research about me,” she scoffed. 

One of the staff who assisted her earlier appeared with champagne in her hands. She kept her head down, but kept a shy smile and gave continuous glances toward Chrollo as she poured the liquid into their respective glass.

“Thanks, miss,” Chrollo flashed the girl a sweet smile. 

Astra could have sworn she saw the girl almost curtsy at that. She rolled her eyes. 

When the girl left, Astra arched her brow. Chrollo on the other hand, ignored her demeanor. “Shall I order you some real food?” 

He was about to call the staff again, but Astra stopped him. “I’m not hungry.”

For a moment, Astra almost regretted her actions because Chrollo might be hungry. But if it’d be the same staff who keep annoying her with how they tried to get the man’s attention, forget it. 

‘What is with this restaurant anyway? Why are they always the same people?’

Once the foam settled on her champagne, she drank it quickly, picked up her bag, and stood up. When she looked over at Chrollo, who still sat on his seat gazing at her, she scoffed. “I’m coming with you. Wait for me outside in a moment.”

“You’ve said that before,” he replied, reminiscing to when she said the exact thing when they met the other night, and then she was gone with his St. Peter’s cross necklace.

“You seriously have something on me. Do you think I’ll run away from you?” Astra argued. “Besides, you’ve done your research on me. So I expect you to appear wherever I am.”

“I don’t believe you,” Chrollo stood up. “Wherever you’re going, I’ll come with you.”

Astra rolled her eyes. If she didn’t have something, it would obviously be his trust. And she had to get it no matter what, if she wanted to get out of the situation quickly.

She turned on her heel and Chrollo followed closely behind her. Suddenly, something rang from Chrollo’s pocket when they stepped out of the restaurant and into the lobby of the luxury hotel. Astra turned her attention to it and then to his eyes looking back at hers. 

“Go,” she nodded at him in a dismissive manner. “I promise I won’t leave.”

Chrollo eyed her carefully, weighing the sincerity of her words, to which she responded with widening her eyes at him. There was a faint smile in Chrollo’s face before he finally took his phone out and turned his back on her. 

Astra lightly shook her head. She didn’t notice, but there was a small smile on her face as well. And just as if the timing couldn’t be more perfect, someone she knew all too well appeared in front of her, looking down at her, mocking her.

“Dad…” she whispered.