//Bio Updated!
I've done it! I've updated Lacey's bio so she is officially a fandomless OC! You can read the new and improved bio here (page scrolls jsyk :p) :
Your Reputation and Good Intent (tumblr.com)
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@adlerthetattler
//Bio Updated!
I've done it! I've updated Lacey's bio so she is officially a fandomless OC! You can read the new and improved bio here (page scrolls jsyk :p) :
Your Reputation and Good Intent (tumblr.com)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
🧍🏻♀️

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
𝔥𝔦𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔟𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔰
She looks at him, blinks as he slides his camera away. There's a deliberate attempt on her part, to keep her face from giving away anything at all. For someone who had just been threatened twice in the space of less than a couple of minutes, he was quite blasé about it all.
Definitely not a photographer of the nightclub kind then. " --- Bolest." Nice going idiot...Telling this complete stranger your name. If Red were here, he'd be blown away by her inability to keep her cool when it came to pretty men.
There's the hint of a foreign accent hidden in his voice, blanketed by his English one. It annoys Bolest that she can't pin down it's exact location. Eyes shift away from him for a moment, a slight wave of her hand dismisses a faceless soldier - ready to help 'deescalate'. "So....Lance...."She rolls his name around on her tongue. "What are you going to do with those photos?" It's almost a threat, the way she says it. "My intuition - " Her eyes rake up and down his body again as if to emphasise his not-so-dissuading appearance. "- Tells me that you're not exactly a nightclub photographer."
"Bolest," Lance tries the name for flavor on his tongue, finds it round and prickly in places most names aren't. An Eastern Block name, maybe? Her accent is thoroughly English, but that doesn't mean her family wasn't Eastern European. He did hear quite a bit of Russian around this facility for a place in the middle of London.
She glances away-- a quick gesture, and a body or two that lingered beside them disappear. Their game is moving to his liking. He tries not to relax too much and signal anything he doesn't want.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." He offers a curt bow of his head, and feigns a look of confusion. "But that's what I am. I'll edit them a bit, and they'll go in my portfolio. There's a literary magazine that just opened up that I'm hoping to submit a few pieces to. Is that a problem?"
Lacey scoffs in reply to Ben's challenge, resembling the accusations of a child who desperately wishes to see their sibling in trouble. "If you're concerned about forgery, go speak to your boss. I'll stand beside you with my big blue eyes and all my proper clearance, and we'll see who looks like the ass at the end of that interaction."
The one positive about having to manage insecure men is seeing how they crumble under her stubborn nature. Having properly pushed his buttons, Lacey can't help smirk. "My, we've got a bit of a writer here, what with that glorious extended metaphor," she says, raising her voice just enough for any passersby to hear her clearly.
At the very least, he's settled in the reality before them: he's going to have to let her in, whether he likes it or not. Her new concern, however, arises around gathering said intel. If she can convince him to let her take it home, it would make both their lives easier. "I do hope you'll have great fun watching me scroll through documents for the next ten hours. How much do you have on-- what's the code name again? Something about a shadow?" She shakes her head. "Better than England, I suppose. The code name they use is 'Succubus.' Point is, you could always just give me what you deem is appropriate so we are not forced to make eye contact any longer than necessary."
Ben mirrored Lacey's scoff. "If you think that batting your baby blues will earn Sackett's approval, then you've clearly never met the man. He doesn't even trust himself. Hell, he makes his own wife go through top security clearance, for God's sake. But please..." He gestured. "Go ahead and make the call. I'd love to see you proven wrong."
Glorious extended metaphor?
With a huff, Ben sneered and said, "The only glorious thing I'll be 'extending' is my middle finger -- or rather, I would, were I not so hung up on being a gentleman."
Lacey, naturally, remained unruffled, and good God, why was it that women never seemed flappable?
Pursing his mouth, his stance softened somewhat and he folded his arms. "If you don't even know our code name, can you see why I have some concerns with letting you in? This isn't a case built for interns, Adler. We've been gathering intelligence for months."
Nevertheless, he rolled his eyes and turned, indicating that she follow. "Whinging out where literally anyone can hear us, for instance, is in poor form, so we might as well continue this argument in my office." Taking her by the elbow, he pulled Lacey inside, then swiftly closed the door behind them.
"First thing's first..." Turning toward her with a quizzical onceover, Ben asked, "Just what do you know about this case? Clearly not much, given your lack of insight on the perp's name, but please: impress me with your analysis, and maybe I'll start filling in the blanks. Because surely, a rising star such as yourself has done research and isn't just expecting to be handed the evidence?"
Her limited interactions with Sackett would certainly prove Ben true, but proving an insolent man right is one of the last things Lacey Adler is ever willing to do. "You've yet to see the fullest extent of their powers. Truly, my eyes should be studied as a form of witchcraft."
There's no use attempting to hide the smug upturn of her lips-- oh he's ruffled, all right, and it's positively delicious. Unequivocally the best part of working with insecure men. Her good humor, however, only lasts as long his hands remain to himself. A startled, displeased yelp slips past her lips as she's unceremoniously yanked into office, the door settling behind them with a resounding thud. He moves on without locking the door, but she maintains her position right beside the knob nonetheless.
"I hope you manhandle your coworkers like this too," she snaps. In lieu of crossing her arms over her chest, as she desires, her hands find her hips-- a pose of strength rather than submission. "My primary knowledgebase comes from her work in the U.K.-- I know you Americans love to claim originality, but a bulk of her work took place over there. She made herself quite the problem for parliament for a solid decade.
"From my understanding, the Succubus came to the States not out of her own curiosity, but as an extension of a job overseas, and I believe I know which job. What I need from you is details to confirm my theory, which will then better formulate how I progress with this case." She tilts her head. "Is that satisfactory enough for you?"
"I wasn't in love with him!" (Alana Bloom about L*cter To Lacey - monstresvictimsxvengeance)
SALTBURN sentence starters
Lacey grimaces with the outburst, her fault on all counts. "Poor phrasing," she admits, tapping her pen against her notebook. "I just meant you were...intimate with certain members of the Ripper case, were you not? It's not exactly a secret, what with Freddie Lounds' breaking the news."
She shifts in her seat, a few inches closer to Alana. "I just want to get the story right. The female perspective is the one so often left out, and that is the right perspective, I would say."
Or perhaps she's just a sick woman who enjoys any ounce of information she can garner, like one of those true-crime junkies. Worse, honestly, as her interests lead her down roads like this one.

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"i don't smoke."
(Constanta @ Lacey - a-bloody-dowry)
SALTBURN sentence starters
"No?" Lacey holds the smoke out a little longer, in case she might change her mind, then shrugs. "More for me then."
The cigarette that was once for Constanta settles between her own fingers, lit in a flash. The night is cold for this time of year, but if enduring it means garnering some vital information, she's happy to. She's been on the hunt for a lead for months.
"Do you always linger outside clubs, or do you go inside them some days?"
❝ i would love to help you but i'm afraid i'm suffering from a terrible case of 'it's not my problem.' ❞ (Modern AU! I feel like in this instance, he doesn't like her attitude (or her), so you know: our usual! lol)
A FEW VARIOUS SENTENCE STARTERS
Lacey's brows raise high on her head, more to make her displeasure clear than out of actual surprise. Insecure men disgruntled by her presence may as well be another fee she tacks onto her day rate, but she keeps it off the bill out of the goodness of her heart. Many days, she regrets possessing such goodness.
"Dear me, you poor boy. Is it terminal?" Lacey asks. She drops the cloying act as she unceremoniously shoves a paper into his hands. "One of us has key information on a criminal figurehead, and one of us is holding a piece of paper from their boss clearly specifying that the other is to be given clearance to your files on said figurehead."
Her mother went by many monikers throughout her career -- so many that even her time in the United States was a foreign concept to Lacey until about a month prior. There were cold cases with her work written all over it, and the U.S. government wanted answers. It was easy to find her way in-- she had knowledge about this mysterious criminal the C.I.A. only had a hunch about-- but finding a way out will pose a bit more of a challenge.
"I do hope you can read, with such a terrible affliction."
Terminal?
Ben scoffed. All right, so that was...a little clever. Still, the twitching at the corner of his mouth could barely be considered a smile, given his worn patience. The thrust of her paper into his hands, followed by the snarky belittlement continued to grind down upon his remaining fibers of good will, and looking her way with a huff, he challenged, "How do I even know this isn't a forgery? You've been trying to worm your way into direct access for weeks."
Lacey simpered, her blue eyes shining with the smugness he'd grown to loathe. "I do hope you can read, with such a terrible affliction."
Ah. She was really going to milk this, wasn't she?
"Just as I 'do hope' you can pull your own weight," he snapped back. "This isn't a joke, Adler, this is private intelligence for a reason. We recruit promising agents, not clowns. You've been prancing about with your squeaky shoes and squirting carnation since the moment you rolled through that door, and I've had enough of your snark. Save the jokes for the jesters."
Irritable, Ben slammed the papers down onto his desk. "If Mr. Sackett truly deems you at liberty to access our files, then I have no choice but to acquiesce. However..." Here, he held up a finger. "I will observe your so-called assistance, and ensure you're not accessing anything you shouldn't. Congratulations." His smile grew tight. "You've just been promoted from clown to wayward child."
Ben hated being an over-glorified babysitter -- Sackett would assuredly be hearing about this -- but for now, he was content to relish in his small advantage.
Lacey scoffs in reply to Ben's challenge, resembling the accusations of a child who desperately wishes to see their sibling in trouble. "If you're concerned about forgery, go speak to your boss. I'll stand beside you with my big blue eyes and all my proper clearance, and we'll see who looks like the ass at the end of that interaction."
The one positive about having to manage insecure men is seeing how they crumble under her stubborn nature. Having properly pushed his buttons, Lacey can't help smirk. "My, we've got a bit of a writer here, what with that glorious extended metaphor," she says, raising her voice just enough for any passersby to hear her clearly.
At the very least, he's settled in the reality before them: he's going to have to let her in, whether he likes it or not. Her new concern, however, arises around gathering said intel. If she can convince him to let her take it home, it would make both their lives easier. "I do hope you'll have great fun watching me scroll through documents for the next ten hours. How much do you have on-- what's the code name again? Something about a shadow?" She shakes her head. "Better than England, I suppose. The code name they use is 'Succubus.' Point is, you could always just give me what you deem is appropriate so we are not forced to make eye contact any longer than necessary."
//Hello folks! I know I'm behind with replies (lol what's new), but things have been a tad busy. Especially with Lollapalooza this weekend, in which I saw my husband Hozier up close and personal. B)
Hoping to get to these tomorrow or early this week!
I had to share proof because I am so excited okay that's all LOL
//Hello folks! I know I'm behind with replies (lol what's new), but things have been a tad busy. Especially with Lollapalooza this weekend, in which I saw my husband Hozier up close and personal. B)
Hoping to get to these tomorrow or early this week!
Also happy 10th anniversary to this blog!!! Crazy!!!
//Hello folks! I know I'm behind with replies (lol what's new), but things have been a tad busy. Especially with Lollapalooza this weekend, in which I saw my husband Hozier up close and personal. B)
Hoping to get to these tomorrow or early this week!

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
'do that again, and i'll kill you.'
the days of abandonment starters
The ambient pulse of the bass and the flashing club lights do a good job of masking that Lance is, once again, somewhere he should not be, but not well enough. A man like him sees through facades such as these with the ease of looking through an apartment window, and where they are facades to be seen, there is information to be found. Money to be made from one side of the line or another. The police would like to learn one of their favorite gangs is selling weapons out the back of a club just as much as one of the gang's rivals would.
Lance wipes at his camera lens and makes a show of sparing the woman a sidelong glance. His eyes drag down her frame-- not fragile looking, no, but quite thin and small for someone making a threat of such a scale. In a place like this he doesn't doubt that she's packing, but he does doubt those short legs of hers are faster than his.
His smile affords her a modicum of dignity that a laugh would not. "And what is that, exactly?" he asks over the music, adjusting the settings against the darkness. "I'm a photographer. I observe life in all its forms. Dodgy nightclubs are some of the best places to make observations. "
"He's about average height, curly dark hair, on the tanner side of things...Keep's taking photos of stuff - not in the way our club photographers would either..."
Bolest hadn't meant for the words to come out of her mouth but here they were. She doesn't quite like the way he's sizing her up, despite the fact her eyes are doing similar at the same time.
He was dressed far too plainly for a street photographer in this day and age.
Public appearances at the club always made her nervous - it wasn't good for logistics to show her face in public. However, this wasn't the first time this man had been spotted here. It was lucky Red had such an attention to detail, having decided to investigate when one of the lieutenants had brought it up in passing.
A couple of dripping sarcastic responses come to the tip of her tongue, but don't make it past her lips. Instead a second or two passes before she speaks again.
"Delete those photos, and I won't have your fingers broken. "
She certainly isn't security detail. Even if she knows how to throw a punch or which pressure points to pick, half the job of security is intimidation. No, she must be someone of importance instead, to walk up to a stranger and start making threats. But if that's the case, why hasn't Lance seen her face before?
He filters back through his mental filing cabinet, searching for any facial features or a tone of voice that register as familiar. Nope. Nothing. He doesn't even think she's in the corner of one of his photographs. Yet here she stands, like she owns the place and everything in it.
"You know, if you want to talk to a guy, 'hello' is a good place to start. Perhaps your name," he says, sliding his camera back into his bag for safe keeping and as a bit of a peace treaty. "Maybe 'you have gorgeous eyes.' That one comes on a little strong, but I'd appreciate it nonetheless. I know some guys are into the whole 'breaking fingers' thing, but even so, it's an off-putting way to make an introduction."
"Mine is Lance, by the way. For the sake of introductions."
❝ i would love to help you but i'm afraid i'm suffering from a terrible case of 'it's not my problem.' ❞ (Modern AU! I feel like in this instance, he doesn't like her attitude (or her), so you know: our usual! lol)
A FEW VARIOUS SENTENCE STARTERS
Lacey's brows raise high on her head, more to make her displeasure clear than out of actual surprise. Insecure men disgruntled by her presence may as well be another fee she tacks onto her day rate, but she keeps it off the bill out of the goodness of her heart. Many days, she regrets possessing such goodness.
"Dear me, you poor boy. Is it terminal?" Lacey asks. She drops the cloying act as she unceremoniously shoves a paper into his hands. "One of us has key information on a criminal figurehead, and one of us is holding a piece of paper from their boss clearly specifying that the other is to be given clearance to your files on said figurehead."
Her mother went by many monikers throughout her career -- so many that even her time in the United States was a foreign concept to Lacey until about a month prior. There were cold cases with her work written all over it, and the U.S. government wanted answers. It was easy to find her way in-- she had knowledge about this mysterious criminal the C.I.A. only had a hunch about-- but finding a way out will pose a bit more of a challenge.
"I do hope you can read, with such a terrible affliction."