Tag: untitled

Untitled DCU drabble (2015-09-25)

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A/N1: Apparently I want to continue the story from this drabble? So you should probably check that out, first.

~

The problem is, they can’t find the woman after running the test. She has effectively disappeared and in a city like Gotham, even with all of the Oracle’s cameras, a single person isn’t going to be so easily found.

Especially when they don’t even have a real name to base their search on.

“Fiona Hill,” Tim murmurs, as he pulls up every single trace of his Caroline Hill identity. Her fake school and employment records, every time he used the alias for a mission, the lease under her name that serves as one of his Nests, “Why would she use that one?”

Why not Alvin Draper, Tim’s most frequently used alias? Why not Timothy Drake-Wayne, officially linked to the Wayne family and thus the Wayne manor?

Why not just Tim?

—

As it is, they don’t find her so much as she comes to them. Again.

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Tim to recognize one of the members of the Kord Industries team as the woman who might very well be his only living blood relative in the entire world. It’s doubly embarrassing because she’s not even wearing contacts or a wig–barring a change of clothes, she looks the exact same as when she came to the Manor.

Tim doesn’t quite stumble in his speech, but maybe the sentence he’s currently saying gets a little mangled on it’s way out, because the woman–his sister–gives a small, sideways smile. Amused, but fond.

Tim focuses on wrapping up his presentation as quickly as possible.

—

When the meeting is done–both sides having come to an agreement for their inter-company collaboration–the KI team begins to leave and Tim can’t just let her go without… He can’t.

“Mr. Kord,” he calls out, internally cringing at the volume of his voice.

The man turns around, bemused expression on his face, “You can call me Ted,” he says. Because… Tim’s been calling him Ted for years now. When he doesn’t call him Blue Beetle, of course.

“Right, yes, sorry about that,” and Tim does not blush. But it’s a very near thing.

“No harm done,” Ted waves off, before asking, “So what can I do for you, Tim?”

Tim wants to ask about her. He needs to know who she is. But when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

—

The problem is, it’s not just curiosity or a personal matter. She’s a security risk–she knows Batman and the Waynes are connected, she knows enough about Caroline Hill to make a not entirely phony claim–she knows something. Maybe not everything, but she knows enough.

And if Tim can’t resolve the situation, Bruce is going to take care of the perceived threat his way.

So, why can’t he just say anything?

“Sir,” and for the third time, the woman is the one to approach. She holds out a tablet for Ted’s perusal.

“Thank you, Esther,” he says absentmindedly, nearly completely lost to the screen before he remembers he was in the middle of a conversation. “Ah, Esther, you know Timothy Drake-Wayne. Tim, this is Esther Kelvin,”

“A pleasure to meet you,” she says, offering her hand out.

And Tim takes it, “Likewise.”

~

A/N2: Here’s a hint: Esther Kelvin is not her real name either.

Gotta be honest, I still have no idea wtf this is. I’m in a strange state of mind considering my sleep schedule is fucked to all hell, and I’ve been binge-reading DCU fic as well as the crossover!reincarnation ideas that have been cropping up in the Dreaming of Sunshine forum.

I’m not saying this is Shikako Nara reincarnated into the DC universe, but I got so many odd reluctantly fond sister vibes throughout each iteration of crossover!reincarnation that I guess it spilled over.

I should probably find a title for this series if I’m going to continue it, though…

Untitled drabble (2015-09-11)

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He chooses a run down diner, not far from where they picked him up. Not what she would have chosen, obviously–she would have taken advantage of a free meal and chosen a more expensive place–but it makes sense. It’s smart.

No doubt, from the way he nods and waves at the waitresses, the cook, this is a place he’s familiar with. A place he feels safe. This is his turf, and even if she’s the one with the money and power, well, that doesn’t mean anything here.

They choose a booth, the table surface yellowed and the cushioned seats flattened and crack with age, but still clean. Rupert makes her slide in first, so that he ends up between her and the rest of the restaurant. Not that it’s crowded–besides their little party of three are two single customers a few stools away from each other at the bar, and a family of four on the other side of the room.

“Georgia,” the man calls out to the waitress currently topping off someone else’s coffee. She abandons that venture quickly, to the dismay of the customer, and briskly makes her way towards their table. The name tag on her apron says Betty.

“Your usual, hon?” She asks him fondly, face folded with wrinkles and smile lines.

The man smiles back, a broad, sideways smile that she congratulates herself for, “Not today, Georgia, this fine lady has offered to pay for the meal.”

“So the Bobby Special, then,” Georgia replies, before turning on her and Rupert with a barely concealed glare. “And you?”

“Just coffee for me, ma’am,” Rupert says meekly, not making eye contact.

In contrast, she feels no shame in matching Georgia’s gaze and asking for pancakes. Maybe that startles Georgia enough for her to leave, or maybe she’s just gone off to tell the cook to spit in her pancakes, but the waitress leaves the three of them at their table.

“So you wanted to talk?” The man says, and she really should ask for his name. Or a name, seeing as how she doubt he’ll give his real one.

“You can call me Terry,” he says with a shrug, “Actually, you can call me whatever depending on how much you pay.”

“I’ll go with Terry. I’m Zoe,” she says, “Now. Let’s talk business.”

~

A/N: Okay, Day 2 of getting home ridiculously late, but I didn’t want to have another Missed Post so I just slapped this together super quick. This is a continuation of the day before yesterday’s untitled drabble.

Sorry it’s not Ain’t No Rest.

Untitled drabble (2015-09-09)

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Being a hooker is not unlike being a pair of shoes. Sometimes clients just want something cheap, sometimes they want something expensive. Some of them have really weird tastes and will insist on the strangest styles and others just want something plain and simple. No matter what, though, we are always something beneath them. Not a someone who maybe deserves a little fucking respect.

That being said, we always want to be the one chosen because if we aren’t well… shoes don’t have to eat or pay rent, but we aren’t actually shoes now are we?

~

“I don’t like this, miss. I don’t like this one bit,” the driver says, shoulders hunched nervously and hands twitching around the steering wheel. His eyes are staring steadily forward, as if, so long as he doesn’t look at the people loitering on the sidewalks, they don’t exist.

“You’ve already said that, Rupert, multiple times,” the woman in the back seat says, exasperated but fond. Unlike her driver, she is examining the people outside with the careful focus of someone on a mission. Which, in a way, she kind of is.

“Keep going, Rupert,” she sighs, forlornly, when none of them match what she’s looking for, "I don’t think we’ll find someone here.“ All of them are too… something. Or not enough something. She doesn’t need perfection, but she hasn’t yet seen anyone who meets her standards.

"Yes, miss,” the driver says thankfully, shakily.

The woman’s fingers drum against her door in impatience, a staccato of light thumps. Her deadline is drawing closer, and if she doesn’t find anyone soon…

“Wait!” She shouts, startling her driver into a jerky stop, both of them jostling in their seats, seat belts straining.

A tall figure, broad shouldered–probably not the usual choice, considering how far he is from the more coveted lit positions. His clothes are tight and revealing, but more as if they are things he has owned for a long time, things he’s comfortable in and is only just beginning to out grow. His shirt has flowers on it.

She grins, “He’ll do nicely, don’t you think so, Rupert?”

“Please don’t expect me to answer that, miss,” Rupert says, still so nervous, but he doesn’t stop her from rolling down her window.

The man in the floral shirt and ripped up jeans saunters closer to the car, seductive but still wary and, maybe, a little surprised.

“Hello,” the woman says, “How would you like to make some money?”

“Well I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” the man retorts, then winces as if he didn’t mean to say that.

Instead of being insulted, the woman just laughs, “Oh, you’re perfect. Come in, let’s have dinner while we discuss the details.” There is the click of the door unlocking.

The man hesitates, clearly weighing the offer in his mind. An extensive discussion could mean some really freaky shit and leaving means missing out on any other potential clients. But he hasn’t had anyone else show any interest, and he is pretty hungry.

“Your pick of restaurant,” the woman adds, sweetening the deal.

With a shrug, the man enters the car.

~

A/N: Uh…. um. I have no idea. There’s more to this, and I may continue this tomorrow just to get it out of my head.

I don’t actually know anything about sex work outside of media and fic so… ??? I don’t mean to insult anyone and I am totally open to corrections or whatever to make it not so… :/

EDIT: CONTINUED HERE

Can u write a scene where Mal tries a love spell for Ben, she mess up so badly that it ends up where all the students( and maybe some of the teachers) fall for Carlos

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Untitled Descendants drabble (2015-09-06)

In one universe, while the four Lost kids are working on love potion cookies, Lonnie walks in, adds chocolate chips, cries, then leaves. With a tear of human sadness and despite the addition of chocolate, the potion works as advertised, making the consumer fall in love with the first person they see. In that universe, it makes Ben fall in love with Mal.

This is not that universe.

In this universe, Lonnie does not appear. There are no chocolate chips or tears of human sadness, and so there are no enchanted cookies. They have to use a different spell. One less… controllable.

“I can barely read anything on this page,” Mal complains, spell book flipped open to a different section.

“Let me see,” Evie says, and Mal lays the book flat so all of them can look.

They stare.

“Are you sure those are words?” Jay asks incredulously, not even flinching when Mal smacks his arm, because, well. Scribbles would be a generous description.

“The pictures are pretty clear,” Carlos says optimistically. Even if magic isn’t one of his skills, he has experience with making things work with patchwork instruction manuals–surely it’s the same with spells. It really isn’t.

“I suppose… We don’t have any other options, and we’re on a deadline.” Mal says, considering, before deciding on a course of action, “We’ll do it. Evie, first things first. We need this,” she points at the largest drawing: a flat, six petaled flower with a long thin stem. The top two petals are shaded in, no doubt meant to be a color of some sort, while the bottom four petals are left unshaded.

“Mirror, mirror… full of power,” Evie begins, “Show us where to find that flower.” The swirling silver smoke parts to show a field with dark purple and white flowers peeking through the blades of grass, a small stream flowing along one side. “Not so close,” Evie sighs, and the image zooms out to show the sign of Auradon Prep.

“It’s on campus?” Mal asks, disbelieving. Why would a key ingredient for a love spell just be growing where any student could get there hands on it? That’s stupid. Well, stupid of Auradon–convenient for her, so she shouldn’t complain.

“This campus is huge, though” Jay says, “that would still take us forever–”

“No wait,” Carlos interrupts, “I think I know where that is. I wasn’t sure, since the drawing is in black and white, but I’ve seen those flowers before.”

In the woods beyond the tourney field and bleachers is a deer trail, a narrow path that leads to a tiny meadow full of purple and white flowers. Carlos and Dude have been there before, found it on their very first day together. They go back, occasionally, if Carlos isn’t too tired from tourney practice to run around with his dog.

It’s easy to find again, even in the dark of the night. The four of them spend twenty minutes picking flowers, which, when Evie says so aloud with an amused smirk, causes Mal to scowl fiercely and Jay to stop.

“It’s for a diabolical scheme, okay. I’m not turning into some kind of airhead who sings to animals.” Mal says crossly, before adding, “Keep picking, Jay.”

“How many do we even need?” He grumbles, but does as she says anyway.

“Well, seeing as how we don’t have actual instructions, we need as many as we can get.”

In the end, they clear the field, flowers gathered into Carlos’ jacket as an impromptu bag, before heading back to the boys’ dorm room. They have a love spell to figure out.

But even if the pictures are pretty clear–flower, eyes, heart–the lack of words really is a problem. Not an insurmountable problem, no, but it definitely leaves a lot to interpretation. Like, say, everything.

“Ugh,” Mal groans after attempt almost two hours of trying to decode the scribbles, “Maybe we should go back to the first spell.”

“Tear of human sadness,” Jay reminds her with a grunt, sprawled on his bed and nearly half asleep, but stubbornly blinking his eyes open.

Mal just groans again, throwing her head forward into the cradle of her curled arms on the table.

“Why don’t we just wing it?” Carlos’ voice pipes up from behind her, where he and Evie have been lounging on his bed.

“You mean like the museum heist? Winging it like that?” Mal scoffs without looking up.

“Well, not quite like that,” Evie says coyly, “We have more than enough of these flowers, we can take our time and experiment. Imagine the havoc we can wreak on the school.”

That idea does sound appealing, Mal lifts her head and even Jay sits up in interest. Then startles–“What are you wearing?” He asks.

Mal turns and frowns at what she sees.

Carlos weaving a small wreath of the flowers around Dude’s neck, and Evie straightening a larger wreath as a crown on Carlos’ head.

Mal would scold them for using up their main ingredient, but the four of them really did pick an awful lot of those flowers. They have plenty to spare. But… just so it’s not a total waste, “You’re wearing that to classes tomorrow.”

Who knows, maybe something interesting will happen.

~

A/N: Uh… so first off–thanks for the prompt anon! And… well, sorry it wasn’t exactly what you prompted and more like the prequel to your prompt, instead. Mostly that’s because as I was about halfway through, I realized that the way I set it up this would have to be a complete derailment of the movie. Aaaand I don’t really know how to mesh that plot with this. But… yeah. This was pretty fun.

The flower I have in mind is Viola tricolor, aka heartsease, aka love-in-idleness, aka the flower that Puck gets the love potion from in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It also has the nifty built-in myth of changing colors–from white to purple when doing love magic.

Basically, the idea of Carlos in a magical flower crown and the whole Puck vibe he’s rocking during Set It Off! (specifically this part ) is really good for me.

image

Hope you enjoy!

edit: now on ao3 as part of Nameless, Worthy (Infamous)

Untitled DCU drabble (2015-08-29)

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“Hello,” says the woman standing outside of the front door. She is short and thin and perfectly normal. And yet, she has somehow slipped past all of the security around the manor, no alarms or sensors tripped, to ring the doorbell. It is only her sheer nonthreatening persona which prevents Alfred from pulling out his customary shotgun. As it is, the family is waiting in the wings to swoop down at the smallest hint of aggression.

“Hello, miss…” Alfred pauses, prompting for a name.

“Oh, yes, sorry. I’m Fiona Hill,” she says with a sheepish smile, “I need help finding my sister, Caroline.”

Behind him, Alfred can hear the confused murmurs from his charges. All but the one who knows Caroline Hill; the one who, in a way, was Caroline Hill. This is no doubt a matter which will prove quite interesting.

He opens the door of Wayne Manor more fully, “Please, come in, Miss Hill.”

—

The woman, Fiona Hill, sits in the drawing room, enjoys the tea set Alfred provides, and utterly fails to be remarkable. She is as bland as a person can be. Except for how she claims to be the sister of someone who doesn’t exist.

“Technically, we’re only half-sisters,” she says apologetically, as if that were the issue, “I’ve never even met her before, but my mother made sure to tell me her name and that she lives in Gotham. I was able to track down a paper trail, but it’s fairly sporadic and some of it is contradictory then it just disappears. I’m worried,” she sighs, before taking a careful sip from her teacup.

“Why is it that you came here for help?” Alfred asks, “Surely the police or even a private detective would be better.”

Skeptically, she responds, “Better than Batman?”

—

“I understand you may want to run some tests,” Fiona says, as Alfred escorts her calmly but sternly to the door, “So in addition to the fingerprints and DNA on the teacup, I’ve also prepared more comprehensive samples,” she reaches into her bag and brings out a small plastic box with several compartments. In each compartment is a small vial or a plastic bag, neatly labelled.

It is a forensic scientist’s dream.

It is also unnecessary.

The teacup is enough for them to run tests on. The DNA comes up with two in-system matches. The first is Tim, the actual person behind Caroline Hill. It makes sense, since it does match her claims, but it is still surprising.

The second is both surprising and unbelievable.

The second is the Joker.

~

A/N: Tbh, I have no idea wtf this is. Like… what? I dunno. I’ve just been reading some of heartslogos’ (absolutely fantastic) works on ao3 and I guess my brain is a little bit caught in the DCU. This set of scenes wouldn’t leave me alone the whole day so I figured I ought to write it down and get it out of my system.

Doing some routine maintenance of the plot bunnies, so probably the next couple of days are going to be bouncing around fandoms and unrelated.

Untitled Counterpoise x Leverage drabble (2015-08-28)

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Connie is dressed up in her spoiled, barely an adult, heiress persona–with freaking Eliot Spencer as her supposed bodyguard–when she spots a bright shock of messy blonde hair out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh fucking shit,” she curses, turning towards goddamn Eliot Spencer, so her face is hidden from what she is pretty sure is her twin brother and his mentor.

“What is it?” Eliot Spencer, what the hell, asks. If he weren’t constantly on alert, Connie would say he went on alert, but as it is his awareness just heightens instead. He moves in closer to her but doesn’t crowd her, which is greatly appreciated.

“Connie,” Ringo prompts over the comm line, when she continues to curse instead of answering, “What’s wrong?”

“Noah’s here,” she says between gritted teeth, because this sucks. This entire con might fail because her cover will be blown and it’ll be her fault.

“Who’s Noah?” Parker asks, skilled enough to simultaneously indulge her curiosity and break into the penthouse suite of a seventy story tall building.

“My brother,” she admits, hiding her grimace behind her flute of champagne. This is embarrassing and unprofessional.

“Noah? The only Noah on the guest list is…” Alec Hardison says, no doubt pulling it up on his computer in the surveillance van to check, “A Noah Gunderson, junior partner at Stuart and Hathaway law firm.”

“We have different last names,” Connie explains, and she feels stupid because this is something she should have checked before.

“Ooh, that’s him alright,” Zachary hisses through his teeth so as not to bring attention to himself as a waiter talking to thin air, no doubt spotting Noah himself, “I didn’t know he made junior partner, though, congrats to him.”

“Just last month,” Ringo says cheerfully, unhelpfully, “I sent a fruit basket with all of our names on it. God knows he needs the vitamins.”

“Ugh, you assholes can congratulate him in person when he finally spots me and kills this whole op,” Connie mutters.

“Hey, it ain’t over yet,” Eliot Spencer, oh my god, says reassuringly, and she doesn’t even flinch away when he puts a hand on her shoulder. She’s ruined the con and she’s freaking out? So embarrassing and unprofessional.

“He’s right; we can fix this,” Zachary says, grifter mind already flipping through options and strategizing. “You haven’t made contact with the mark yet, and the only person you’ve introduced yourself to as Leona is the VP and she’s already left the party. Get rid of Spencer’s tie, undo the top two buttons of his shirt, and loop your arm through his.”

“Oh god, this is why Noah hates us,” Ringo moans, easily catching on to the plan.

She follows Zachary’s instructions quickly, huddled in close so it’s not too obvious that she’s partially undressing someone in the middle of a formal party. With a casual movement, she drops the tie to the ground and kicks it beneath a table unseen, before turning around and linking her arm through his. In less than five seconds Connie turns from billionaire heiress to high class escort. Just in time, too.

“Connie?!” Her brother shrieks, the epitome of subtlety and class. Mr. Hathaway, Noah’s mentor, turns to look–and probably regrets it, what with the way his face twists at the sight of her. He’s always been extremely awkward around her.

“Well now, darling,” Eliot Spencer, she’s too busy to come up with more epithets, drawls–catching on and playing up his Texan accent–loud enough for her approaching brother to hear, “I thought your name was Rachel.”

“It is,” Connie says, insistent, as if she really were an escort under a pseudonym whose real name had just been shouted across the room, “He must be mistaking me for someone else,” and this time she glares at Noah, as if she really were angry at him for blowing her cover. Which she is, just not this cover.

“Oh,” Noah says dumbly, obviously, before unconvincingly adding, “I don’t know you at all! Sorry about that, you just looked like someone… oh, shrimp puffs!” He says, spotting a tray being carried over by a waitress, “Aren’t shrimp puffs great?”

Zachary and Ringo both sigh, out of relief and exasperation.

“I see acting skills do not run in the family,” Alec Hardison remarks dryly.

No they do not, Connie thinks as she watches her brother awkwardly try to chaperone what he thinks is his sister hired as an escort for some rich pervert. She is so sorry, Eliot Spencer.

—

A/N: Not an immediate continuation, but it is related to this drabble. Which would probably help make sense of the above drabble. And, again, this is me adapting my OCs from Counterpoise into Leverage.

Gotta get some stuff out of my system.

Untitled Counterpoise x Leverage drabble (2015-08-17)

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The phone rings.

Connie, being the closest to the phone, immediately crumples up a piece of paper and chucks it at Zachary’s head in the strange hopes that maybe he’ll pick it up instead.

He is not amused, lobs the paper ball back at her, and goes back to his cup of tea.

The phone rings again.

Connie hisses, head swiveling around to try and find Ringo to pass the responsibility onto him. He is nowhere to be seen.

The phone rings for a third time.

She has no choice. She has to answer it.

“Leverage Incorporated, this is Connie speaking,” she says, voice light and even.

“This is Alec Hardiso–”

She hangs up.

“What the hell, Connie?” Zachary asks, having watched the entire production, “Was it telemarketers?”

“Nooo,” she stretches out the word, quickly backing away from the phone.

This time, when the phone rings again, Zachary is closest. Which means he has to be the one to answer.

It rings.

“Damn it, Connie, that doesn’t count!”

And rings.

“Those are the rules!”

And rings.

“You obviously had it first, you can’t just hang up and run away!”

And rings.

“I panicked!”

And–

“Leverage Inc,” Ringo says, having apparently appeared while the two of them were shouting at each other. Amazed, Zachary and Connie stop yelling at each other, to watch Ringo handle the call maturely.

“Yes, I understand. No, that is within our capabilities. Thank you, I will make sure she knows that. Okay then, we look forward to seeing you in person. Goodbye.”

Once the call has ended, Ringo takes a deep breath, the screeches, “It was the original Leverage team!” ruining the cool persona he had built in the last thirty seconds.

There is a reason the three of them are friends.

“No, fuck you, no way!” Zachary says, clambering over the back of the couch to stand next to Ringo and the phone.

“See?” Connie shrieks back, vindicated.

Ringo nods in complete agreement.

“No, no, no! Fuck you guys, you’re totally playing me!”

“It was Alec Hardison,” Ringo says, not even blinking an eye as Connie, their resident hacker, temporarily swoons, “Their team has a target who owns a vacation house in the city, they wanted our permission to operate here. And asked if we would be willing to help out.”

“Oh my god, hell yeah!” Zachary agrees raucously.

“And he says that Connie’s work on the Oceanus security system was impressive,” he reports dutifully.

Connie’s breathing somehow grows higher in pitch.

“Wait a sec,” Zachary says, cutting into their collective fannish admiration.

“What?”

“Are they coming here?” He asks, looking around unimpressed. The base of operations for their particular branch of Leverage is a small warehouse with a bathroom and a tiny walled office area. It is strewn with wires, various weapons, a worrying amount of empty pizza boxes and take out containers, and one corner has three dressers bulging alarmingly full of costumes.

They have work to do.

~

A/N: So this is just a random scene from a fic I’m not going to write which is basically me adapting the Counterpoise team into the Leverage world. I seriously am not going to continue this, I just needed to get this written down because it was bugging me.

So in this Westernized form of them Zakuro is Zachary, Ringo is still Ringo, but Konran goes by Connie because her real name is Conrad. As said before, Connie is the hacker, Zakuro is the grifter/grease-man, and Ringo is the enforcer. Though they do all have skills in each area.

[I will get back to Descendants fic tomorrow. I’m sorry, everyone, I just totally blanked.]

Untitled Benlos drabble (2015-08-11)

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The C in ‘Plan C’ does not stand for coronation.

Plan A had always been their parents’ plan. Brute force, obvious, simple: use the magic mirror to find the wand, steal it, take down the barrier. It was luck on their part that the wand was being displayed in a building so close to campus, with such lax security. Even if they did have to retreat and scrap the plan after the alarms sounded.

Plan B, well, that had been in action since the very beginning. It was more their style than their parents’, a little more subtle, and maybe with time it might have worked. Carlos had been making pretty decent progress.

The B in ‘Plan B’ does not stand for Ben. But it might as well have.

—

Carlos just really enjoys sex, okay? He’s a teenage boy and it feels great and it’s fun to make other people feel great too. He just doesn’t like the implications that come along with it. They say he’s callous, but it’s not because he’s a snobby sadist like his mother. He’s actually rather nice–charming, one might say–it’s just that after he’s had his fun, well, he’s not obligated to fulfill any expectations, okay.

Their gang of four are notorious on the Isle–if the girls haven’t asserted their dominance over someone, or if they haven’t been robbed by Jay, then Carlos has probably seduced them then jumped out the window at the first opportunity.

To him, people are as easy to program as machines. Easier even, maybe. While Jay likes to base his flirting on his lack of sleeves, gorgeous body, and raw predatory sexuality, Carlos likes to take a more controlled approach. With Jay’s targets, if they’re not even the tiniest bit attracted to him at first sight, then there’s no helping it. Jay doesn’t chase after anyone who doesn’t want it.

But for Carlos, that’s all just part of the game. Actually, he specializes in making those who don’t want to be chased do the chasing instead.

—

There are a few tricks, easy body language stuff, that Carlos uses, but the bulk of his seduction is actually neuro-linguistic programming. It requires having a little knowledge on the mark, though, and since cold-reading is always a risky venture, he tends to keep first impressions… vague. Sexy, but vague.

Eye contact is an obvious one, a person can fall in love just by gazing into someone’s eyes for long enough. Not Carlos, but he’s heard it’s happened–has made it happen before. So when they are first introduced to the crown prince, Carlos makes sure to match eyes with him, gaze steady and open. But while eye contact is necessary for a good seduction, that alone is not sufficient.

Everyone knows that mouths can be the most suggestive body part, and Carlos knows his is more so than others. It’s so simple to draw attention to his mouth–smeared with that delicious sweet stuff they found in the limo. Sure it implies he’s a messy eater, but sometimes messes can be fun. How a mark decides to clean up a mess is a fantastic insight into their personality.

Ben makes it so easy, too, his fingertips automatically going to his mouth instead of the more proper option of a handkerchief or even the unrefined but impersonal wipe onto his clothes. Mimicry is another effective tool for seduction, and if Carlos’ own hand to mouth action is a little more obscene, well, like he said–messes can be fun.

—

It’s pretty easy to get a read off of Ben–he’s not interested in Jay’s overt masculinity, or Evie’s upfront femininity–in fact, Carlos’ biggest competition for Ben’s attention is Mal, who could not be less interested if she tried. But that in itself is informative. Ben wants to prove himself to Mal; he wants her to want his help. Ben is a provider, a protector… a hero.

Carlos can easily be someone who needs saving.

A yelp at the statue’s transformation is enough to bring Ben’s attention back from Mal onto Carlos and it starts building foundations in Ben’s mind.

Carlos needs someone to help him, to make him feel safe. Maybe that someone could be Ben.

—

As it turns out, Ben is almost ridiculously susceptible to neuro-linguistic programming. Or maybe just susceptible to Carlos.

After that first tourney practice, which Carlos was unsurprisingly terrible at, the coach recommended Carlos quit the team. Which would have been stupid, considering his mark is one of the players.

He had honestly expected to have to suffer through a few more such practices, pretending a steady disheartening before shyly approaching Ben for advice. After Jay’s performance during that first skirmish, Carlos would hardly have to explain why he’d decided to turn to Ben for help first.

But immediately, with barely effort on Carlos’ part, Ben volunteered himself.

An additional hour alone with his mark every day? Almost too easy.

—

The thing with Dude was brilliant, if Carlos may say so himself. Unplanned, of course, but still absolutely brilliant. The fleeing in fear bit was completely truthful, not just an exaggeration to foster more protectiveness in Ben. The fact that it did, though, was very helpful. Vulnerability can be attractive, Carlos knows, but he’s never encountered anyone on the Isle as attracted to it than Ben.

And “good boy?” Carlos could not have planned that any better himself. With such delicious Freudian slips like that, it’s best not to disrupt the mark’s train of thought, let them stew in their own wild imaginings with a few visuals tossed in. Carlos doesn’t get belly rubs, maybe he would like them; any positive physical contact, really, and praise is always appreciated. Carlos hasn’t been appropriately cared for, doesn’t he deserve to be cherished? Wouldn’t Ben be the best for that job?

From that point on, Carlos keeps Dude with him. Not solely for seduction–because Dude is adorable and adoring and lets Carlos hold him and pet him and dress him and Dude is Carlos’ now–but, like Dude’s introduction into Carlos life, the association of pleasant feelings and protectiveness is an excellent bonus. 

—

Given more time, Carlos is sure that Plan B would have worked. Hell, if the goal were just to sleep with Ben before the coronation, Carlos probably could have done it. But to make Ben so obsessed with Carlos to the point that he would not only break up with Audrey but officially declare Carlos his boyfriend? In a week? Impossible.

He says as much to the rest of the gang, a little ashamed but mostly frustrated. The coronation is their best opportunity, and Mal is the best choice to have at the front. Not only because she’s actually a girl and her gender won’t inspire political backlash–her parentage, sure, but not her gender, not like Carlos’–but because, if there’s a need for it, she can actually use the wand–again, not like Carlos.

Love potion it is, then. Carlos tells himself that its the use of magic that bugs him, not the fact that it’s Mal instead of him. He’s definitely not relieved when Evie suggests he stick close anyway, just in case.

—

The song was… well… ridiculous. But it may have also been the most fun he’s had since leaving the Isle, possibly the most fun he’s had without sex being involved, so he just gives in and enjoys singing and dancing with Ben while he can. 

—

Carlos has to coach Mal in seduction for her date, which is honestly not something he ever thought he’d have to do. Not just because people don’t date on the Isle, but because Mal has always been as uninterested in sex as Carlos has been in romance. But in such a short time, lust can be confused for love; though, with the potion is already in effect, the seduction is more of a safety net.

She’ll have to use slightly different techniques, though, because her relationship with Ben is different from Carlos’. Not that Carlos and Ben had a relationship; Carlos doesn’t do that.

Anyway, while Evie prepares Mal’s outfit, Carlos prepares her. Having been friends since they were children, Mal knows at least some of Carlos’ tricks, even if she needs a little help in polishing them up for her own use.

Eye contact? Yes. but in Mal’s case, turning away every so often might be best. She has to make Ben feel like he needs to earn her attention, either by talking more or reaching out to touch her–both outcomes are good.

Accentuating her mouth? Also a yes. Makeup can do some of the work, which Evie eagerly breaks out her lip glosses to test colors at the suggestion, but if she can add some kind of action that would be even better. Carlos is a big proponent of sensual eating.

But the hardest part for Mal? Hints of vulnerability. It goes against her nature, and Carlos has no idea how to teach someone vulnerability. But maybe in this case truth is the key.

Carlos leaves before Ben is due to pick Mal up from the girls’ dorm room. No need to complicate matters.

—

After the coronation, as the fireworks go off and everyone is dancing, Carlos stands aside. It’s kind of warm. He just needs some air, is all, too many people trying to breathe the same oxygen. And he didn’t get much sleep last night, so he’s a little tired and his eyes ache.

He wants Dude now.

Evie, taking her own break from dancing, stands beside him and follows his gaze. “They look good together,” she says gently. And Carlos wants to agree, wants to compliment Evie on putting together Mal’s gown because it is honestly some of her best work.

But instead, purple and blue blur together in his eyes, and Evie silently draws his face to her shoulder. It’s just the fireworks, the smoke and the light probably too much.

When Carlos composes himself, he manages to say without his voice trembling, “I guess we don’t need Plan B anymore.”

“Did you want to?” Evie asks carefully.

“I think it would have been decent,” he answers, but then they both reconsider. It’s highly doubtful Ben and Audrey have ever had sex, considering how high society Auradon acts with each other. Certainly not good sex, with the way they were both so willing to end their relationship. Carlos and Evie know Mal hasn’t, doesn’t want to.

“It would have been fun to teach him,” Carlos amends, which is in itself a confession.

“Okay,” Evie says simply, letting them stand off to the side for a few moments longer, before dragging Carlos back into the fray.

A lot of good came out of tonight. Carlos knows his future has changed for the better, there’s no need to ruin it with melancholy and random regrets. 

—

A few weeks after the coronation finds Carlos hanging out in the girls’ dorm room with Evie, helping out with her latest project. She’d been draping what looks to be a jacket of some sort over a chair before he came in, now Carlos is being used as a live mannequin instead. It looks more like a Lost style jacket, leather and asymmetric cuts, different than her more recent works which have been trying to incorporate Auradon’s aesthetic. But the color scheme is sea foam green and a soft maroon, more pastel than any of their gang’s colors.

“Hold still,” Evie says, when Carlos’ mind drifts away and he twitches out of her careful positioning.

“Sorry,” Carlos sighs, moving back to the original configuration, “I’ve been kind of restless recently. It’s probably because I’m not burning off so much energy at tourney practice anymore.”

“I thought you enjoyed the Future Engineers Club,” Evie says, pinning in one more fold before carefully peeling Carlos out of the jacket.

“I do,” Carlos says, because he does, “Just, you know, in comparison to running up and down a tourney field, tinkering isn’t as physically draining.”

“Are you sure it’s not because of the dry spell you’re in? It’s been a long time since the Isle,” she says. A long time since your last sexcapade, she doesn’t say.

“It’s not a dry spell, I’m just focusing on other things right now, okay. I have my whole life in front of me,” he says, and it might have been somewhat convincing if he hadn’t added, “And no one has really caught my interest… and plus, everyone has roommates.”

Her raised eyebrow is enough to show she’s unimpressed with his excuses. Especially since he’s just been repeating the same things every time he gets asked.

Doug knocks on the door, a little unnecessarily since it’s open, to get their attention, “The FEC meeting is in ten minutes.” Doug, also a member of the Future Engineers Club, has been very helpful in getting Carlos transitioned from tourney player to… well… nerd.

Fondly, Evie waves the both of them off, eager to return to work on the jacket. Now that Carlos has the answer in front of him, it’s not too difficult to figure out who it’s for. He knows that Doug and Evie aren’t dating–she wants to revel in her independence–but it’s not just friendship, and it’s clearly not sex. Carlos wants to ask, but he decides to wait, thinking he’ll have the opportunity to do so after the meeting.

He does not.

Because as the meeting lets out, Ben is standing there; far enough away from the door that the rest of the club members can leave, but close enough that he can easily see every member exiting. And every member exiting can see him.

They’re a little unnerved, because for all that Carlos is a Lost kid, he’s still a ginormous nerd who likes to build stuff out of other random stuff. He’s one of them. In comparison? Ben is the king. More than that? He’s the captain of the tourney team. He’s a jock. A nice jock, yes, but still a jock. Never mind that a few weeks ago Carlos was a jock too.

With a sigh, Doug manages to wave the rest of them off before turning to look between Carlos and Ben. Neither who have said a word since their eyes met.

“You okay?” Doug asks Carlos, reaching out for his shoulder. Suddenly, Ben looks at Doug’s hand like it had personally offended not only him but his entire kingdom.

“Yeah,” Carlos says, then, because Doug is actually very observant, he repeats more confidently, “Yes. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay,” Doug nods, careful to make slow motions as he pulls his hand back and walks away.

Carlos and Ben stand in silence for a while longer, this time both looking at where Doug disappeared, before almost reluctantly dragging their eyes back to each other. Well, it’s reluctant on Carlos’ part, that’s for sure. He’s been trying to reign back all of his flirting, but it’s difficult. A lot of it is just automatic and he doesn’t know how much interaction is expected for just friends–or at least, friends you haven’t grown up alongside and committed burglary with. He doesn’t know how much eye contact or touching is allowed, so he kind of just… hasn’t.

“So, you and Doug have gotten pretty close,” Ben says, which Carlos is confused by but goes with because he doesn’t know what else to talk about.

“Yeah, he’s been a big help in getting me into the club, even if it was after sign ups for the year. The other members are pretty great, too. And, uh, Mr. Gepetto has a lot to teach us. I mean, he says I remind him of his son which is a little weird but, yeah…” Carlos trails off, uninterested in his own rambling, “I… what are you doing here?”

Because there’s no reason for Ben to be here. Carlos has been backing off. They still eat at the same table, sure, but Carlos has been practically neat in comparison to before, and he always makes sure there’s at least one person between them at the table. Unless…

Ben shrugs, mouth open to say something before his expression twists, “No, you know what. I’m going to be honest.” And when Ben stares into Carlos’ eyes, he can’t help but match it, “It kind of feels like you’ve broken up with me before I even knew we were dating,” Ben steps closer, near enough that either of them could reach out and touch the other.

… Carlos has accidentally been pulling an apathetic seduction. The sudden absence of flirting making Ben want to get Carlos’ attention, the same as Mal looking away causes Ben to reach out.

“We weren’t,” Carlos spits out, because he never dated, he’d know it, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have let go if he had been dating Ben.

Ben steps closer, hand reaching out to land on Carlos’ shoulder, thumb lined up with his collarbone. Ben has yet to look away, and so Carlos hasn’t either.

“It was just part of the plan, okay, I was supposed to seduce you to get the wand. But then there was the coronation and you needed a girlfriend not some fucktoy,” Carlos blurts, throat going tight, “It had to be Mal, not me. So I’ve stopped, okay, that’s all.” His eyes are starting to sting, and there aren’t any fireworks to blame.

Ben steps even closer, other hand cupping Carlos’ cheek, “I know,” Ben says, simply, easily, as if Carlos hadn’t had to tear the truth out of himself.

Carlos lets himself close his eyes, unable to handle Ben’s stare anymore, and the motion lets a tear escapes.

“What I want to know,” Ben murmurs, thumb swiping across Carlos’ cheek to intercept that fallen tear, “is if you actually like me,”

"You’re dating Mal,” Carlos says, which is not an actual answer at all. And can’t stand up against Carlos’ nod, the way he leans into Ben’s hand.

“Who do you think told me about the plan?” Ben asks, a smile in his voice, and now both of his hands are cradling Carlos’ face, “Carlos, open your eyes” he says.

Carlos does so, eyelashes heavy with nearly shed tears. This close, and with their height difference, he can’t help the way his gaze goes to Ben’s mouth; can only feel a thrill up his spine as that mouth edges sideways into a smile.

“I learned a lot from you,” Ben begins, leaning forward so that he can lower his voice and still be heard, “I’d like to learn a lot more.”

Carlos’ hands clench into the fabric of Ben’s shirt, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away because they are still in the middle of the hallway. But then, Ben says six words that makes the decision for him.

“I have a private dorm room.”

~

A/N: I dedicate this to jalencolbert and awesomestlonerever because this wouldn’t exist without either of them. Like, literally, I would not have thought of this. But with awesomestlonerever’s gifset and jalencolbert’s comment in this post my brain just went into overdrive and I had to analyze EVERY interaction between Ben and Carlos as Carlos deliberately seducing Ben. And it was so easy to do, I can’t undo it. Damn it! What happened to my precious adorable baby? Now he’s all grown up and seducing kings.

Uh, so yes. Neuro-Linguistic Programming is an actual thing, but as the hyperlink will show you I’m using the Leverage version of it so I cannot say whether or not my portrayal of it would actually be successful. A lot of it has to do with associating yourself with something they find pleasurable, but also letting them do most of the talking. Any talking on the seducer’s part is more to prompt certain thoughts or connections.

I don’t know, I’m hella ace, flirting and seduction is just this whaaa~? kind of thing in my mind. I can appreciate it from a psychological point of view but in action I just… uh, no thanks. I’ll stand way over there.

But, yes, ~SEDUCTION~ and the seducer falling in love with his target, then the target seducing the original seducer. That’s totally a thing, right?

edit: can now be found on ao3 here, under the title “(This Feeling) Without A Name” since… well… I still don’t know what to call it.

Untitled Descendants drabble (2015-07-31)

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They’re rotten to the core.

It’s hard not to be, considering who their parents are.

They’re the meanest, cruelest, most ruthless, and most evil on an island already filled with all of Auradon’s more unsavory characters.

And they’re all siblings.

Four of the worst villains forced to share real estate? Either they’d kill each other or… collaborate.

Jay’s the first, the oldest, a product of a rare moment of intimacy between his parents. His existence led to the girls’ mothers wanting scions of their own. And, after seeing infant Evie and Mal become witches in the making, Cruella wanted one just for herself–hence Carlos.

With pedigrees like that, raised in an environment like that, no wonder why they’re the Isle’s biggest bads.

—

Mother says that this is their chance for revenge. But as far as Mal is concerned? She doesn’t want to waste her own opportunity for power on a failure’s paltry schemes.

Why take power and hand it over to some has-been when she could just keep it for herself?

They were always greater than their parents. Why settle for dusty old dreams, when they can make their own a reality?

–

Evie doesn’t need a mirror to know she’s beautiful. She doesn’t need one to know she’s smart and talented, either. Why would Evie choose some airhead of a prince nowhere near in line for the throne, when she can build her own future?

The poisoned apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, maybe, but her poisons are far more deadly–and fetch a much higher price. Clothes and jewels certainly aren’t going to pay for themselves. Though having the heir to the kingdom’s gemstone mines wrapped around her little finger? Terribly convenient, wouldn’t you say?

–

Carlos has never seen a dog before, but he’s always been told that they’re rabid pack animals. Mom may have gotten the rabid part wrong, but they’re definitely pack animals–and once a dog has made you its alpha, they’ll fight a dragon for you.

He flees the Isle as soon as he can because he knows there’s way more out there for him. Here’s something Mom never taught him: a hint of kindness beats any amount of cruelty in getting what you want. Whether with animals or humans, he’s more suited to the title of charming than those princes ever were.

–

One thing Jay has known his entire life is that a group is stronger than an individual. It’s written in his bones, woven deep into the fiber of his being, because that’s what being an older brother is all about. He parrots what his father says–nonsense about there not being a team in I–because that’s all his father ever expects from him.

But he’s more than that, he knows it, and his siblings know it, that’s all that matters. There’s a reason Jafar couldn’t hold on to the throne when he had it. You can’t be a leader if you’re alone. And anyway, it’s better to be a winner as a follower, than a loser as a loner.

Though, as long as he’s the fist? He’s perfectly happy

–

The way Mal sees it? She can hand the wand over to Mother and watch the world crumble into the festering ruins like the Isle, or she could hand it back to a fairy who doesn’t use it. Who displays it in plain sight, in a museum she and her siblings have already broken into with less than a day of preparation.

Not that she needs a paltry stick for power. No, power isn’t magic–though she has enough of that–it’s words. So easy to turn a daughter against her mother, to have future queens in her debt, to make a boy king fall in love.

Every good King has a Queen. And every great Witch has a Beast.

~

A/N: HAHAHAHA, guess who is baby-sitting their younger cousins and had to watch ALL TWO HOURS OF THE DISNEY ORIGINAL MOVIE DESCENDANTS!

That’s right. It’s me.

And… uh, somewhat not fully complimentary review of the movie under the cut.

edit: now on ao3 as part of Nameless, Worthy (Infamous)

It was so absolutely soul rending and awkward that I accidentally cussed in front of my younger cousins (ie: bullshit).

I mean, the premise was already cringe-worthy, but the actual movie was just… agh. Like… agh. It wasn’t even like with High School Musical where you could maybe suspend your disbelief long enough to accept jocks singing and dancing to a song about how they don’t dance. This movie was like… why. Why. Why is there a song with flashbacks to something you literally just showed five minutes ago, why.

Buuuuut. There were a few nuggets of… well, not gold, but possibly salvageable stuff which, obviously, they did not deign to go into WHATSOEVER. And I have a lot of questions about things which will never be answered but which, well… hence this drabble.

I’m so sorry. But this was the only way I could live with myself after watching that, and basically it’s that instead of ~turning good~ the kids stay evil. And are in fact more evil than their parents because they don’t just obediently follow their parents’ wishes, they take the opportunity to get power for themselves. And, well, the end Mal’s eyes are all evil magic green as she winks at the camera behind King/Prince Ben’s back and I’m just like… well obviously she’s going to take this train all the way to the end of the line. Which is Queen of a conglomerated magical kingdom with her gang/siblings in key positions.

As far as I’m concerned? They’re still rotten to the core, they just learned subtlety. Which was SORELY NEEDED IN THAT MOVIE.

Darcy Lewis, Keyblade Wielder, parts 1-3 (2015-07-18)

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The nice thing about the keyblade is that it doesn’t really exist. Technically it’s a manifestation of her heart, she can make it appear and disappear at will. Which is extremely convenient because people on this world don’t really use swords, much less swords that look like giant keys.

Except for the basic Kingdom Key which Mickey had given her, the key chain a bright silver silhouette of his basic head shape, she also has what she likes to call the Lorraine Key which is far more convenient to carry around. It’s still a blade shaped like a key, but for the most part, the Lorraine Key is less of a sword and more of a knife–small and understated.

It’s also absolutely fantastic at Wind magic, to the point where she can actually cast it on others. Which, well, she supposes makes sense considering the key chain is a pin that her grandmother gave her: a bird with an edged shield for a body, wings stretching beyond the circumference of a ring–of course it would be good at defensive Wind magic.

But other than that, she has yet to find anything that modifies her keyblade. Simple key chains won’t do it, neither do phone charms as she jokingly tried, or even other pieces of her grandmother’s jewelry (which she was grounded for a week for). She figures that there simply aren’t any other keyblade chains in the world–nothing with enough magical or emotional potential to modify something that literally comes from her heart.

By the time she turns twenty five, she’ll have another seven key chains.

—

She doesn’t use her keyblade that often, what with Mickey having locked her world against Heartless. And, to be honest, this world isn’t even all that appealing to the Darkness–the heart of this world isn’t as magically powerful as others, despite the high population.

In comparison to literal soul sucking creatures of darkness, the everyday threats of sleaze balls who won’t take no for an answer and muggers are hardly deserving of the term. She uses magic against them anyway (because she’s a big believer in the phrase use it or lose it and magic is just really cool). Mostly Thunder magic because it’s the easiest to explain away as a taser. And also, she could give Zeus a run for his money with how good she is–and she should know, she’s actually met the big guy and he said as much. (Though, to be fair, she was a little girl very far from home who had almost been kidnapped by Hades. A little white lie can be comforting.)

Over a decade later she knocks out a different God of Thunder with her magic and thinks that maybe it’s time to refresh her other skills.

—

She loves her world. Her adventure across the universe in a spaceship with a royal anthropomorphic mouse had been amazing, sure. Had been incredible and extraordinary and beyond the scope of anything else she would ever find on Earth. But that was just a jaunt–Earth is home.

Earth is messy and fragmented and near void of any cool mystical phenomena. But she loves Earth. And she doesn’t mean the physical planet (though she does believe in everyone doing their part to help the environment) but the people. The cultures and societies and governments. As a ten year old she didn’t know how to explain the idea of representational democracy much less multiple nations with different governments to a talking mouse who happened to be a king of an entire world, but she wanted to even then.

So while it’s a surprise to everyone else that she eventually chooses political science as a major, it really is just her, heh, following her heart. Sure, she’d probably breeze through the CompSci major (a field that really deserves more women in it) but hacking is a hobby for her, not a lifestyle. And even though she’s achieved space travel–something other people can only dream of–it’s as if her journey has only made her more appreciative of her own world.

But that doesn’t stop her from feeling nostalgic for her childhood adventures. And so even though she’ll always be a political scientist at, heh, heart, she signs up for an internship with the (crazy) eccentric Dr. Jane Foster. She doubts a semester of data entering in New Mexico will be anywhere near as exciting as her time with Mickey, but at least she’ll finally get those science units out of the way.

A month later she tries not to laugh hysterically at the irony while she helps evacuate the citizens of Puente Antiguo (though she’s pretty sure she could have taken the Destroyer. Just saying).

~

A/N: Apparently I am actually going to do this. Maybe? Hopefully. Anyway, I’m stuck on a bus for seven hours so I might as well. We’ll see if I come back to it at another time.

Title is subject to change.

And for those of you playing at home, yes Lorraine is the SSR agent played by Natalie Dormer in Captain America: The First Avenger who kisses (or tries to? I don’t remember how far they got) Steve.