#Circus Lion || Emma

[ttkinnie]

Tokyo Revengers characters as animals 💖 (for no reason)

Kazutora: let's start with the most obvious one, our resident tiger. Which is funny considering he gives 0 tiger vibes. Or maybe rescued declawed tiger from an abusive circus. Wait a sec... Hanma and Kisaki have a circus theme going on... why did I never notice this? This starts well. Saddest tiger pic I could find

Baji: A black gray wolf of course. 'nuff said

Chifuyu: A cat. Kitty kitty meow meow. Not crazy enough to be orange, but he's gotta have green eyes and a kind face. This tuxedo:

Koko: Talking about cats, here he is. Most obvious choice I've ever made. Black cat of course, very fancy, will knock shit off the counter and eats only the most expensive wet food

Inupi: second most obvious one because you've gotta pick the race of the dog too. I say he's the only serious golden retriever you've ever seen.

Takemichi: A mouse. He is squeaky and scared, looks like he eats cheese. Very cute. Big eyes.

Hinata: A doe, beautiful and kind but will ram into you if you touch her loved ones

Naoto: a buck because I am unoriginal. he does give off buck vibes tho

Hanma: I know the official art makes him a caracal but I love being contradictory so maned wolf it is. Plus look at its long legs and creepy demeanor, it's him

Kisaki: Listen, I am not the most partial person when it comes to him. He's my little meow meow, I wanna put either cat or bunny ears on him and squish his cheeks. But! Let's be honest, that boy is a snake. The deadliest snake in the world, the saw scaled viper, not the most venomous but highly aggressive. He eats mouse Takemichi for breakfast. Also look at its scales, they remind me of his adult hair.

Mikey: A honey badger, small and cute but will bite your balls off and kill your family for fun.

Draken: A lion, beautiful mane and a symbol of strength. Lives among a tribe of lionesses (lucky him)

Mitsuya: I do not like spiders. At all. But an animal literally producing silk is the only choice for Mitsuya. However I am not masochistic so i won't put a spider image, just the web

Taiju: Great white shark. Very smooth skin. Anyone who tells you they have sandpaper skin is lying.

Hakkai: A seal, same eyes, same innocence, favorite prey of the great white shark

Yuzuha: An orca, beautiful but deadly. Only predator of the great white shark. Also eats seals but let's not comment on that. I support women's wrongs.

Pah-chin: it's too cliché to put warthog here, so i won't. He's a cane toad, one of the stupidest animal on Earth, one of their most common cause of death is eating shit they shouldn't because they stuff their mouth without thinking. They also hump anything, including dead animals from another species, and lay their eggs anywhere, which leads to a high mortality rate among their offspring. Why did I give so many facts? I don't know. Look at it.

Peh-yan: A tarsier. it's the eyes.

Sanzu: Arctic hare, crazy eyes and a gift for divination if you can understand his language

Senju: a cutie baby. Bunny x2, will kick you.

Takeomi: a rat. I am not a hater, rats can be cute, but this guy definitely gives off rat vibes

Wakasa: So very pretty. White leopard of course.

Benkei: A bull. I always thought his tattoos were a bull, but I was wrong I just looked it up. Still a bull.

Shinichiro: This one was though, but I'd say a koala. I'm partial about it, but I feel like he would give his children poop to eat, and their reproductive habits are also not a good look on them.

Emma: Japanese dwarf flying squirrel because I play favorites and that's the cutest little furball ever. it looks like it's wearing eyeliner

Izana: Another small but deadly thing, the Australian box jellyfish, found notably along the coast of Malaysia (I feel so clever right now)

Kakucho: Fiercely loyal dog, he's a Rottweiler. Don't tell me Izana and him don't have some kind of puppy play going on.

Ran: Secretary bird. Canonically hates Kisaki which explains why he stomps snakes to death. Wears killer eyeshadow and looks like they hate your fashion style

Rindou: Did you know a group of male Pacific tree frogs is called a chorus? me neither, which is why Rindou is a Pacific tree frog. Peace of music, yeah

Mucho: Polar bear, cold and aggressive. Plus arctic hare and polar bear, there's a theme

[alinalioness]

3 Songs (You probably know) which would be suitable for Balan Wonderworld (In my opinion).

1. Circus Monster by Circus p ft Megurine Luka

I also mentioned this about my BWW fan art. Because if you imagine Balan as a circus monster, the people who scream are haters, the two lions are Leo and Emma, and such as the coach are either kind Lance, or the inhabitants, or (I'm afraid to write the author of the game itself because I think they will complain). Like the game is underestimated, they could have improved it, but Yuji Naka himself left. And Balan suffers from haters.

About Lance hating someone, as in the lyrics. And the inhabitants, even though there are 12 of them, for some reason liked it more. Like Balan is a kind coach, Leo and Emma are lions, and the evil coach who is referred to as "He" is evil Lance.

2. The riddle.

This song has no meaning, although I think it's a mystery in a Strange world. In general, it is worth imagining that Leo and Emma enter the wonderworld, and in the chorus they meet "*Sing* inhabitants~" who had problems. And in the end, everything becomes fine after defeating Lance.

3. Chasing Dream - GuitarHeroPianoZero ft Galaco (Deleted).

One of my favorite underrated VOCALOID songs. Here you can imagine either Leo and Emma or the inhabitants, or both as with the previous one, have problems, and then everything gets better. Maybe this song and NiGHTS will do.

If you have an opinion, you can write. It's interesting to read.

[isfjmel-phleg]

August 2023 Books

The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion Vol. 1-6 by Beth Brower

Although I had to fight myself a bit to ignore anachronisms, I did enjoy these! The earlier ones more than the later ones, but I will definitely be continuing this series as more come out.

And I know it's setting us up to ship, but am I horrible for thinking that none of Emma's potential suitors are a good fit

Towers in the Mist by Elizabeth Goudge

I normally like most of Goudge's books, but I regret I had a hard time getting through this one. As ever, the prose was lovely, but I struggled to get invested in the characters.

Deep Secret by Diana Wynne Jones

I liked this one on the whole, but it took me forever to finish for some reason! I've started the sequel and am finding that it's more approachable, or maybe I'm just reading it at a better time.

Father's Arcane Daughter by E. L. Konigsburg (reread)

This is a bizarre book, but I love it and keep coming back to it. The characters may not be easy to like, but what's behind it is evident, and the emotion very poignant. There's also a TV film adaptation (titled Caroline? and it's free to stream in a few places) that's pretty close to the book and well-done.

Beyond Authority and Submission: Women and Men in Marriage, Church, and Society by Rachel Green Miller

I don't read a lot of books like this, but someone around here recommended it, and I've been struggling for a while with this issue, so I picked it up. Miller makes a lot of good points and I really appreciated what she had to say (and wish I could share this perspective with some churches I'm familiar with).

The Aviary by Kathleen O'Dell (reread)

The initial setup and atmosphere of the book are great, but I regret that I didn't enjoy this one as much on the reread and probably won't be visiting it again.

The Edge of In Between by Lorelai Savaryn (reread)

I reread this one as a refresher while researching the TSG paper and was able to put more of a finger on why this one doesn't work for me, either as a story or as a retelling. It's not just that Savaryn completely changes the themes and focus of the story she's retelling, but the result is heavy-handedly allegorical. Reminders that This Is A Metaphor For Grief are everywhere. Characters feel less like living humans than representations of things. They're oddly self-aware of their problems and all their causes and there's a lot of talking like a grief counseling session rather than ordinary people. It feels like A Message that happens to have a story rather than the other way around. Even in a middle-grade book, there should still be room for the reader to independently think about and analyze the themes rather than have everything spelled out, and I didn't get much of that here.

Wintle's Wonders, Circus Shoes, and White Boots by Noel Streatfeild (reread)

I was in a shoes reread mood, and a bit curious if the British editions (as two of these are) differed significantly from the American editions. White Boots seemed pretty similar to Skating Shoes, but Wintle's Wonders has a noticeable amount of material that's cut from Dancing Shoes. Mostly details that flesh out the world and characters a bit more, but there's also a conversation between Rachel and her uncle about her late father (his brother) that furthers their bond and should have been left in.

I love Streatfeild's protagonists. A lot. Even though most of them are unusually talented in the arts or a sport, they feel very real. Rachel Lennox is important to me because she's a very rare thing: a quiet, shy, bookish fictional heroine who isn't also perfectly nice and sweet but angry and frustrated and understandable for it even when she's mistaken and it's relatable. I want to protect poor exploited child-celebrity-in-the-making Lalla, despite her occasional obnoxiousness. And Peter and Santa's weird isolated upbringing that leaves them unequipped to handle the real world...strikes a chord, even if the way Streatfeild plays out their arcs doesn't always work for me.

Also apparently circuses in the late 1930s did have whole families of performers who lived and traveled with the shows, if the portrait that Streatfeild offers of that life is accurate. It lends a bit of surprising plausibility to the background of a certain famous fictional circus child who debuted in 1940.

Speaking of which...I've read a lot of comics in the last few weeks.

Damage (1994)

A rather obscure series that didn't get to live up to its potential because of an early cancellation. It's got its share of clichés (like a girl whose personality is basically "love interest" and who gets fridged) and dated stuff, but Grant is a compelling character who's worth reading the series for.

Various issues of New Titans

I was just here for pre-Alabama Bart and Grant. No idea what's going on with anyone else, but these boys were robbed of a promising friendship.

Titans (1999) #1-19 plus a few others

I was mostly here for a continuation of Grant's story after he got stuck in canceled-book limbo, but I also got sucked into all the Drama with the five original Titans, who are all on the team when the book begins. There's not a lot of Grant, but what's there is well done. Some weird elements in this series, and some plotlines I didn't love, but I appreciate the overall character-focused approach.

Jason's (re)introduction in Batman, A Death in the Family, and Under the Hood

I knew the gist of all this already but actually reading it all...yikes. Sad about this forever.

Superman: Last Son and The Third Kryptonian

I want to be familiar with all the kids in the superfam, which means I need to meet Chris. More of these to come. So far there hasn't been much done with his character. But he meets Tim at one point and they have some cute interactions, which I appreciated.

The stories that focus on the action aren't so much my thing, but I like that sometimes the series slows down to allow the characters to take a breather and bond. There's an issue that's just the family going to a beautiful other world/dimension to have a picnic and chat...and that's basically all that happens, and it's refreshing.

The Life Story of the Flash

Silver Age comics were wild. What even were some of those storylines. But the narrative does its best to ground the mythos's established ridiculousness in the humanity of the characters, which works.

Why don't we have any adaptations that give us this book's characterization of Barry? He's analytical, methodical, scientifically-minded, and a neat freak. He proudly wears bow ties, a crew cut, and a pocket protector. He's a certified Iowa boy and a comics nerd. He doesn't want a reporter to take his picture after he solves a case at his civilian job because he isn't the story. He considers himself boring and when his girlfriend tells him she finds his analytical mind attractive he coughs an entire lemonade through his nose. He's late to everything except the time he shows up five minutes early to a date because he's going to propose (on top of a Ferris wheel, no less). Bless his heart. Very different from the reckless, hyperactive speedsters who would succeed him, and the tension between his temperament and his powers is a fascinating contrast. The recent TV series was sleeping on some excellent material to work with.

[floor-of-inhumanities]

This is a floor of monstrosities... Of second chances...

Askblog for a Project Moon OC, but contains several canon characters. Takes place during Library of Ruina. Not spoiler friendly.

Staff of the Floor | Rules | Tags under read more

Tags:

Receiving Guests || Ask

Unexpected Guest || Anon

Reading the Books || Writings

Written in Books || Musings

Books of the Day || Promo

Locked and Queued || Queue

Booked || OOC

Character Tags:

Locked Memory || Locke Windsor

Hello World || File Not Found

Cherry Blossoms || Grave of Cherry Blossoms

Gaze || Schadenfreude

Engulfing Dream || Void Dream

Pinks || Army in Black

Feather of Honor || Firebird

Circus Lion || Emma

Circus Cat || Noah

Wingless Angel || Philip

Love Town || Tomerry

Iron Lotus || Xiao

Fates Typewriter || Yan Vismok

[nicsnort]

Gravita Anima (part 19)

Nightcrawler/Fem!OC/Quicksilver Long-form romance and drama fic. All chapters have been posted on Ao3.

Intro (with link to Ao3 story) First Previous

Pietro’s debriefing in the morning had been far too early, far too long, and far too annoying. To start with, Emma had thought it a great idea to wake him up by talking loudly in his head at seven in the morning. Didn’t she have any idea of the hard work he had been up to last night and the equally leveled reward he gave himself? Worse, he knew Frost only did it because Magneto told her to.

He had left a note for Elle and hoped she wouldn’t do anything stupid. In any case, Riptide was on the cameras now. So Pietro showed up at his father’s office. He hardly spared a glance for the blonde in Victoria’s Secret lingerie. Oh please, he thought, some women just can’t accept aging with grace. Magneto never gave her a second glance and nor did Pietro - well, except one time. Azazel seemed immune and only the younger ones, like Toad, seemed to attend to Frost in a way that had nothing to do with her telepathy. 

“I see you’ve completed your task successfully.” There was an unmistakable dryness to Magneto’s voice.

Pietro shrugged, seeming unbothered. “Hey, got her here, didn’t I? And if I had a bit of fun so what? "Then, unable to resist, he smirked a bit, “I don’t see her friend with you. What happened, Pops? Twist your ankle?” 

Magneto’s death glare didn’t bother Quicksilver too much. There wasn’t much of an audience- Frost didn’t count - so he didn’t mind jabbing the old lion. “Slow and steady wins the race, Pietro.” Magneto reminded him. 

“That implies you even crossing the race one day -- but yeah, sure, whatever you say. So, why am I up this early?”

The older man sat back in his chair. “The X-men visited us, I see. Care to inform us?” Us as in royal, or Us as in him and Frost? Pietro had to pause and wonder if there was something going on...but no, no way. His father had more pride than that...right? Even though he was turned down by the woman last night...he wouldn’t lick his wounds like that...would he?

Pietro laughed. “Nothing to really inform...if they had pitched one more tent in there, it would have been a circus. I got the younger one, Shadowcat, to drink a strong drink, and, uh, she couldn’t hold anything, let alone her liquor. Some idiot touched Rogue -- wish I could take credit for that -- and knocked her out. Crowd freaked out and ran...Blue Balls tried to stop me, but Elle wanted to leave with me...so we left.” It was simple, matter-of-fact. Again, really not a 7 A.M. conversation, but here they were. 

Magneto was smiling. He could appreciate the comedy of errors. “Make sure Elle leaves on a good note if she wants to leave at all. We need her to say nothing but good things to her friend.”

“Right-io.” Pietro gave a mock salute. “Can I head back now?”

“Not yet,” Magneto said, “I have another mission for you before you return to your love nest.”

Pietro sighed. 

~~~~~~

South of DC in Maryland, Elle had taken a shower in the Brotherhood base. She had awoken around 8:30 to an empty bed but a note next to her telling her to make herself comfortable until Pietro returned. With that in mind, Elle had decided that a shower came first. The sweat of last night made her body feel disgustingly sticky. She used the feminine items in the shower and hoped that whomever they belonged to she wouldn’t mind.

Once she was done with her shower and wrapped in towels Elle hurried back to Pietro’s room. The rest of the building was still quiet and she wondered if there was anyone else here. Elle was very tempted to sneak around but she had no idea what to expect. Mostly dry Elle dressed in yesterday’s clothes not wanting to wear anything of Pietro’s and tossed her drying hair up into a ponytail. She spritzed some of her scented water on the clothes to remove some of the sweat smell and made sure she had all her things.

Her phone buzzed and she was just reaching to check it when the door to the room opened.

Pietro opened the door and saw that Elle was there. She wasn’t in bed, naked and waiting as he hoped, but standing, clean, put together, with her items. Pietro tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment he felt. “Morning,” he smiled at her warmly. “Sleep well?”

Elle caught the disappointment he felt and smiled. Good. Keep him off his game. He looked tired as well but he still was friendly. “I did, though I believe passed out would be a better term given how much alcohol I drank.”

The truth was her memory was a bit hazy. She recalled dancing with him and their night of passion but everything between was muddled. In the back of her mind, she thought there was an incident and that someone important showed up...still she remembered enough. Particularly the fact that Pietro was not just a dashing man who was very good with his tongue but that he was also Quicksilver. A member of the Brotherhood. And that he knew she was a mutant and knew her name without her ever introducing herself.

Standing from the bed she walked over to him. “I do remember last night though and your spectacular performance...and if I recall correctly, you have some explanations to give me, Pietro.”

Pietro had to keep his face as still as he could, that grin still on there. “You mean about the whole…?” He was not a man to shoot himself in the foot.

Elle’s smile twitched just a bit with annoyance. Was he going to play dumb? “About the whole, you knew my name without me ever having told you...and about the whole knowledge about what I can do. I’ve been very, very careful about revealing my mutation. How did you know?”

Pietro internally sighed in relief, that was it? He wondered if she had been too drunk to recall the X-men. Perhaps for the best...definitely for the best, he decided. Pietro gave a soft smile as if to ask for forgiveness. He didn’t need to have her gift to sense she was upset. “Oh, I thought you meant about the whole ‘how did I buy you so many drinks without being a penny poorer’ thing.” All about distraction, a wave of the hand elsewhere.

Pietro started to walk around and pick up his clothes from the ground, seeming nonchalant. “It shouldn’t be a surprise,” he said as he tossed his clothes into a bag off in the corner, “that the Brotherhood made it their business to look up every mutant at that protest. Wasn’t hard either. With the news video, the talent...and people talk. We couldn’t account for a few people, one of which was you...so when you left when the X-men did,” and he hoped that wouldn’t trigger a memory, “we thought you might be a mutant...and a talented one.” He smiled at her. “And a beautiful one.” There was no point in pretending the Brotherhood wasn’t as powerful as they were. In fact, he hoped it would...lure her.

The knowledge that the protest had potentially exposed many other mutants to the Brotherhood and not just herself Elle felt her already dry mouth and throat tighten uncomfortably. This was bad, this was really bad. If they could find out about her whose power was completely invisible and nearly imperceptible they truly could find out about any mutant. Wait, that’s right the X-men, she had been talking freely about it there. Could they have a spy in their ranks? The idea of the X-men stirred in the back of her mind, something about last night but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

Elle tried very hard not to but a blush did grace her cheeks slightly at his compliments. It was that smile, that damned roguish smile. “Well, congratulations on figuring out what no one else has been able to. You are right, I am talented, but my powers are quite useless besides making sure people have a good time on tours. It is a shame that the Brotherhood would use all their power and information gathering skills for destruction and harming the mutant cause.”

Quicksilver chuckled softly. He had been waiting for this conversation and was pleased to have it now rather than last night. “You just haven’t tapped into your powers fully.” Like father, like son, Quicksilver could be charming and suave when he wanted to. 

“You have a lot of potential...and I’m sure we could work with that. Our telepath, Emma Frost...she’s the one who did the scanning, she knows a few tricks to help with growth.” It was on the tip of his tongue to make an innuendo, but he resisted. Now wasn’t the time. “And we aren’t harming anything...we’re helping our fellow mutants.” 

A telepath. That explains a lot. And that was dangerous depending on the level of power from Frost she would be able to tell if Elle used her powers on them. Elle was just about to argue about the Brotherhood not harming anything when Pietro disappeared from her view. She heard the door open behind her. Turning around, Elle looked at him holding the door open for her. Meet the others. She really was at their base wasn’t she.

Elle immediately cursed her drunken self. Why did she think it was a good idea to try and get information?! Stupid. Stupid! All the activist organizations she has helped could be tainted if the government, if anyone, found out about her being at the Brotherhood base. But still, was it not better than to salvage what she could? Get the information that she could?

Pietro paused, thoughtful. “Maybe you should meet the others before you make such judgments.” Within a blink, he was at the door holding it open. 

_______

Next

Fanfic Masterlist

[mysticalrambling]

Hi this is mine request, y/n and chris (evans) are married and the have 2 kids, Emma and Jason, and y/n takes Emma to get there nails and hair done they have a girls day , while the boys a a boys day at home, and when y/n and Emma comes home, the boys have cooked dinner for the girls and later that night the have a family movie night, in matching pyjama's

A/N: I loved the plot line and I was happy to write about it. This is what I came up with and I might have added a few more things to the plot line. I love dad Chris Evans and I would love to write more about him. Hope you guys like it and please tell me what you think about it.

._._._._._.

Family Time (C.E)

Chris Evans Fanfiction (Fanfiction Master list)

Warnings: None. Fluff all the way.

Summary: dad! Chris Evans x reader. Chris and the reader spends the whole day with their family. They enjoy the free day with their children and enjoy every moment of it.

._._._._._.

Having two kids was a bittersweet experience for the two of you as they were close in age so they fought a lot. It could be over the simplest of things such as who will eat in which bowl or who will cuddle with daddy at night. Emma and Jason loved each other to death but Jason being the elder was sometimes a little too stubborn. The one thing that always came as a shock to Chris’s family was that your son was a total daddy’s boy and vice versa for your daughter. Your family was always a little different from the others and you loved it.

“Mommy, Jacey pulled on my hair and threw my dollies to the ground.” Fat tears poured down her baby blue eyes as she jumped on your shared bed, effectively waking you both up. Chris just groaned and buried his head in the soft pillows and hands placed on his ears. You didn’t blame him, you both were up pretty late last night because Jason had a severe stomach ache. But he was okay now, considering he was busy annoying his younger sister.

“I will scold him but can you lie down with daddy now so I could freshen up and make you guys breakfast.”

“But I want to stay with you-,” she began to protest and you quickly silenced her by promising a girls only day.

“Besides, you don’t want to cuddle with daddy?” Chris growled playfully and started tickling your three and a half year old daughter. Taking this as your cue to leave, you went to the washroom. Meanwhile, Jason also joined the two of them in bed and lazed around for the whole morning, You prepared pancakes and scrambled eggs that was your family’s favorite breakfast and put out some dog food for Dodger.

“I want dad to feed me today.” Your five year old son declared when Emma sat on Chris’s lap to be pampered by him.

You sensed a fight heading towards the dining room and you quickly tried to diffuse the situation. “You are going to spend the whole day with your father today so let him feed Emma, please.” He huffed out a fine and you cut his pancakes in to little pieces.

“I am thinking of taking James to do some grocery shopping and then spend the whole day at home.” Chris was free today because his shooting does not start until Monday and he wanted to spend as much time possible with his family before he gets busy. He always hated being apart from you guys and would feel bad if he missed out an important step in his children’s life because of his career. You guys were truly blessed to have him in your life.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I will get them both ready for the day and then we can all get on with our day.” Pecking him on the lips, you took the kids to your room and Chris went to clean the dishes.

“Mommy, I don’t want to sit in the booster seat. I want to sit with you.”

“No, baby, it is not safe.” She was hell bent on her request today and you just ran out of patience. Snapping at her, you were instantly filled with guilt because tears pooled in her eyes.

“Darling, I am sorry. Babe, can you drop Emma and I at the parlor before going to the supermarket?”

“Sure. Just let me get my keys.” Sitting in the middle of two booster seats was highly uncomfortable but you would do it for your children. The whole car ride was filled with both the kids babbling about their school and day care respectively. Your husband silently made eye contact with you from the rearview mirror and you knew he was thanking you. “When should I pick you both up?”

“I’ll text you half an hour earlier.” Getting Emma out of her seat, you walked towards your favorite salon. You already knew that Emma wanted a mixture of blue and pink nail polish because colors are gender neutral. Chris always made sure that your kids never follow the obscene rules set by the society.

“We are going to have so much fun, mommy.” The little girl skipped towards the reception and stood on her tip toes to see you make the reservation.

“Baby, do you want to get a haircut as well?”

“Are you getting one?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want one as well.” The receptionist smiled at your daughter’s excitement and complimented her saying that she looked just like Chris. Emma puffed out her cheeks and mumbled, “I look like my mommy.”

“Sorry. You are a carbon copy of your mother. Now, I have you two stationed right next to each other and you have manicure first.”

On the other side, Chris sat his little boy in the trolley and marveled at how big he was slowly getting. He had decided to properly pamper his family today and an Italian dinner was just a start. One of the things that you always craved in both your pregnancies was his pasta pomodoro and he sometimes had to make it at three in the morning to satisfy your cravings.

“Daddy, can I get some cookies?”

“Yes, but only one because we don’t want you to have stomach ache.” Chris quickly finished the grocery shopping and then went in to Cartier. Pampering his girls was his top most priority today so he had already ordered a bracelet for you with all of the family’s birth stones engraved in it, He also ordered the same exact bracelet for his baby girl just in a smaller size. Emma always wanted the same exact things as her mother and Chris always tried to fulfill her wish.

“Can we get them some pretty flowers, as well?” Quickly, he wiped all the cookie crumbles from Jason’s face and agreed with him. They decided on getting them some pink roses because you both loved them.

The moment they arrived at the house, they quickly got to cooking but Chris made sure that he went no way near the stove. He was given the task to open up the spaghetti packet and picking out the red carrots.

Meanwhile, you both got your nails done with you opting for a bright yellow colour. Chris’s favorite colour. You got your hair cut in square layers while Emma just got a nice trim for her dirty blonde hair. Both the kids had inherited Chris’s hair and eyes but the nose and the smile was all you. During the whole time, you and your daughter talked about anything and everything. She talked about the cute boy in her daycare and how she wanted to be his friend but she got a whole circus running around in her tummy.You just chuckled and thought to not tell Chris because he will freak out and bully that poor boy.

After about two hours, Chris and James came to pick you both up and the whole way back, both the kids kept bickering with each other. The moment you opened the front door to your house, your favorite aroma hit you and a blissful sigh escaped your lips. “Have I told you this new look suits you a lot?” Your husband took you in a backside hug while both your munchkins ran towards the dining room.

“Just like a thousand times from the moment you picked us up. Is this dinner a hint?”

“Well, it’s true and maybe it is.” You kissed him slowly on the lips because the prospect of another kid was exciting to say the least.

“Daddy, I want the pasta!” Emma screamed from across the hallway and you both made your way towards them. The dining was all set and the kids were already sitting at their assigned places with their plastic forks in hand. Chris quickly served the food and you all got to eating. Dodger was sitting by your chair and happily munching on his food. Making silent eye contact with your husband, you guys silently agreed on having another kid. You were thrilled.

They all went to their rooms and came out in their matching Captain America pjs that Chris bought from Los Angeles the last time he was there for shooting. He always loved the idea of twinning with his famiily.

“We have a little surprise for you, don’t we, Jason?” The boy ran towards the living room and you all followed suit. Chris gave you a bouquet with a red long box and Jason did the same but with a smaller size to his baby sister.

The moment you saw the content in the jewelry box, tears welled up in your eyes. This was such a thoughtful gift and there was an empty place in the bracelet for a new gemstone. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“I am giving you a lot of hints, here.”

“You don’t have to convince me, baby. I was thinking about this as well.”

“Then, it’s done. Baby number three of our family.”

“Thank you, daddy,” Emma jumped on Chris from the back and he immediately caught her in his arms.

“No problem, baby. Which movie do you guys want to watch?” He asked but he already knew the answer.

“Lion King!” There were a lot of things that your kids didn’t agree with but this was an exception. They were both die hard fans of Lion King.

“Aw, I thought we will watch Captain America today. But that’s okay, I guess.” He pretended to be hurt by their answer but the kids took it seriously.

“No, daddy. We love Captain America and we can watch it today.” Little hands cupped his light stubbled cheeks and Chris just smiled at his two babies. He was so lucky to have them and he could not wait for a third one.

“It’s okay, bubs. I was just kidding, We can watch it tomorrow. Today is Lion King’s day.” They all got together under the blanket and kept all the snacks on their laps. This was what Chris wanted the whole day; his whole family under his arms, happy.

“I love you.” He whispered to you while you cleaned off Emma’s sticky fingers and the drool on Jason’s chin.

“I love you, too.” You spent the whole night on that couch and somewhere in between the movie, Dodger came up and cuddled to your side. Your life was blissful and it was all because of Chris, the love of your life.

Hope you guys liked it!!

._._._._._.

A/N: This is just some family dribble that I wrote related to Chris Evans. I just love the idea of dad Chris. Send me some ideas related to Chris as a family man and I will be happy to write about it. Tell me if you wanted to be in the taglist.

Tag list: @maximeevansblog, @justile 

Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._._.

[shireness-says]

A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink (2/5)

Summary: Two people are trained from childhood for a magical competition they don’t fully understand, whose stakes are higher than they imagine, all to be played out in a magical traveling circus. Falling in love complicates things. A CS AU of the book “The Night Circus”.

Rated M. ~16.5k. Also on Ao3. On Tumblr: Chapter One

A/N: I’m back! Thanks for your patience in waiting for the latest chapter of my @cssns​ piece. My apologies for the wait; these chapters are slow in coming due to my own overthinking and perfectionism, what I know where everything is going and this Will Be Finished. 

Special thanks to my betas, @snidgetsafan​ and @ohmightydevviepuu​, and to @eirabach for the absolutely gorgeous art she created for this chapter. Seriously, it’s like she climbs right inside my head to see what I’m picturing. Give her a BUNCH of love for all this. 

Tagging the interested parties (and let me know if you’re one of those!): @welllpthisishappening​, @thisonesatellite​, @let-it-raines​, @kmomof4​, @scientificapricot​, @thejollyroger-writer​, @superchocovian​, @teamhook​, @optomisticgirl​, @winterbaby89​, @searchingwardrobes​, @katie-dub​, @snowbellewells​, @spartanguard​, @phiralovesloki​, @profdanglaisstuff​, @winterbythesea​​

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Henry is six the first time he visits the Circus. 

It’s a special treat for an orphaned boy like him; the nuns who run the Storybrooke Children’s Home, just outside of Portland, Maine, aren’t much given to frivolous entertainments like this. But a generous monetary donation had been made to the home when the Circus had set up just over the next hill, and tickets for all the children along with it. The nuns may not be much for frivolity, but they’re not ones for waste, either, especially where gifts are concerned. The next night, Sister Astrid and Sister Theodora collect all the children who want to go, and bring them to what, to Henry, feels like a whole other world. 

Henry is a boy the adults already say lives in his imagination too much, and the magic of the Circus only enchants him further, calling to him in a way he doesn’t yet have the words to understand, let alone describe. There are trapeze artists who soar through the air, and jugglers, and lions and tigers and wolves so tame that they’ll take treats from his hands. Kindly confectioners slip him pieces of praline and boxes of popcorn to snack on through the night with a wink and a smile. It’s treatment such as he’s never experienced before, and it’s easy to wonder if he’s just wandered into some kind of dream.

(Even at six, Henry knows better than to disrupt such a lovely dream.)

It’s easy to get separated from the rest of the children in the dazzle of it all, and Henry finds himself wandering the curved paths alone as the clock strikes one, when the others in his group are preparing to return to the Home. Not that he knows it; he’s far too occupied by staring wide-eyed at the black and white tents where they soar to meet the stars and peeking beyond their entrance flaps.

That’s how the lady finds him - gawking with a craned neck at everything around him. 

“Have you lost your group, young man?” she asks with a gentle voice. Henry likes being called young man; it makes him feel important. 

“It’s okay,” he tells her earnestly. “They like to go faster than me. I can do it by myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” the lady laughs. She looks really pretty; her hair is yellow and curly and she wears a poofy white dress with black swirly bits and a black, long-sleeved jacket, the lack of color making it obvious she’s part of the Circus somehow. If this was one of the fairy tales Henry likes so much, she’d be the princess in hiding; here, at the Circus, that just might be true. “I was just planning to walk to the front gates. Would you care to escort me, young sir?”

Henry eagerly takes the hand the lady offers. “I’m Henry,” he tells her as they walk. “What’s your name?”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Henry. My name is Emma.”

“That’s a princess name. Are you a princess?”

“No,” she laughs, “but thank you very much, Henry. I appreciate the compliment. Are you enjoying the circus?”

“Yeah!” As they walk, Henry eagerly tells the lady - Emma, his new friend - about all his favorite bits - the animals and the dancers and especially the magician. Emma has a funny little smile when he talks about that, but Henry doesn’t think to ask about it.

When the front gates are finally in sight, Henry tugs on Emma’s hand. “I like it here,” he whispers. “Do I have to go?”

Emma crouches down, her skirts pooling around her and threatening to envelop him too. “Yes, Henry, you have to leave for now.”

“But why? I want to stay here. I could stay with you!”

“Oh, Henry, I’d like that so much,” she tells him, pulling him into a hug. “You need to go for now, until you’re older, but the Circus will always be here for you, okay? You’ll come back.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Henry dreams of the circus that night, and for many nights after, though the visions his mind conjures up never quite match the mysticism of the real thing.

A week later, the Circus is gone.

(But here, in a small room in a cold, gloomy children’s home - a young boy remembers.)

———

Belle, unsurprisingly, proves to be a determined and reliable correspondent. She’s like his little window into the Circus, even when he can’t be there himself, as is so often the case - especially in those first few years. Five years pass of letters and far-too-rare visits, and yet Killian never feels left in the dark. That’s the magic of what Belle can accomplish with her words - let him feel as if he is present even when he can’t be. 

Her missives contain the important things he asked for, of course - reports of new tents and changes in operations and unusual things his opponent, Miss Swan, is doing. They’re useful words, words that help him plan his own next moves. More than that, though, her letters are filled with wonderful little mundane details that make him smile. Belle tells him about the latest book she’s read and how fast the Zimmer twins are growing up and particularly funny anecdotes she’s heard. There are complaints about the weather, and discussions of the interesting or ominous things she reads in the cards. Always, always, there are chronicles of all the many places she has seen as the Circus crisscrosses the world, recountings of wondrous sights and marvelous people. Belle had wanted to see the world, and she’s getting to, five times over. It’s everything she deserves, only wrapped in an unusual and often demanding package. 

“It’s not too much, is it?” Killian asks on one of the rare instances their paths cross - in Paris, this time, where Killian has come on an errand for Jefferson, sitting in a little cafe in the shadow of Notre Dame. “I never want to ask more of you than you can manage.”

“Don’t be silly,” Belle says, waving off his concerns like the steam from their coffee. “They’re merely letters, Killian. It’s no great bother - especially for something I’d be doing anyways. I’d be writing to you regardless, Killian - you’re my best friend in the world, and I’ll be terribly put out if you ever stop writing me back.”

And that’s that.

(Most days, Killian believes that Belle is a much better friend than he could ever possibly deserve. He makes a mental note to say something of the sort in his next letter back to her.)

(Of course, he forgets - but then again, he can’t imagine she doesn’t already know.)

———

As a child, growing up knowing she was destined for some magical contest, Emma had always been told that she’d understand what she needed to do once her competition actually started. As an adult, now smack in the middle of it all, she finds that is decidedly not the case. Emma does her best, but it still feels like she has no idea what in the world she’s supposed to be doing.

The Circus is meant to be a canvas for her abilities, hers and her opponent’s; that much is obvious. What exactly that means is… more up for debate. Emma tries to take on more of the Circus in little pieces, bit by bit, so that more of its operations run on magic than on man power. It’s more enjoyable to try and come up with new attractions, drawing upon her imagination to come up with something new. It’s not a particularly quick process - Emma spends a lot of time planning each idea, to make sure she doesn’t miss anything, and it means that she can only create maybe two new tents each year. It’s worth it, though, to wander through the finished product, and see the way her most fanciful ideas have come to life. 

(“You need to be doing more,” Regina always scolds her on those rare occasions she makes the effort to visit her student. “This isn’t playtime. You can’t just make the effort when you feel like it, silly girl. Don’t you want to win this?”

“Of course, Regina,” Emma always says, making whatever promises she needs to in order to appease the other woman - all the while knowing that she will continue to act in her own way.)

(For Emma, the best thing about the Circus may be the separation from the woman who took her in. Regina does not often make the effort to check in on how her student is doing - and Emma more than likes it that way.)

There are traces of her mysterious opponent’s work, too. Sometimes it’s in the form of dramatic new attractions, things that push the bounds of possibility and perception; sometimes, it’s with more mundane things, like a wine-sampling tent tucked along a path that Emma is certain never existed before. 

His or her greatest feat, however, is on the members of the Circus themselves. As the years pass by, Emma can’t help but notice that time doesn’t affect everyone who brings the Circus to life, with the exception of the Zimmer twins. It’s been more than half a decade, but Granny Lucas is still as hale and hearty as ever. Not a single face has gained extra creases, or a single head extra grey hairs. Something this unknown competitor did has stopped the clock for all of them within the iron fence, even as the grand timepiece above the front gates ticks on.

It’s an impressive piece of magic - one that must take a considerable amount of skill and effort. It’s the first time Emma wonders if maybe this is a contest of endurance, rather than skill.

Regina won’t tell her, however, and Emma puts the matter out of her mind while she turns her attention towards the night’s performances and the germ of an idea blooming in her head. Something fantastical. Something striking - and icy. 

There’s always room for imagination and for creation at the Circus, after all - and despite her opponent’s impressive efforts, that’s exactly what Emma is counting on to one day prevail in this competition. 

——— 

The Zimmer twins are special, Emma discovers, and not just in the way anyone who has loved a child claims them to be exceptional. In Ava and Nicholas’ case, it’s true. 

There had been something in the air the night the circus opened, the night after the twins were born - something crackling and pervasive and magical. Emma has suspected for years - since that very moment - that the energy was something created by her still-unknown opponent. It’d been like a wave, rippling through them all at once and creating unknown effects. She thinks this might be one of those - powers growing in two children who, by all indication, shouldn’t have received them.

It’s especially noticeable to Emma, who not only has the ability to sense the powers running through their veins, but spends a considerable amount of time with the six-year-old twins. Ava and Nicholas grow up like the beloved niece and nephew of everyone involved with the circus, as though everyone communally agreed to test the proverb it takes a village. While the circus is open to visitors, and the children’s parents responsible for their little cart of carved treasures, everyone else watches the little boy and girl in shifts when they’re not performing - and Emma quickly becomes a particular favorite. She’s never been sure why; maybe they sensed the magic in her own veins, even as babies, and latched onto it. Maybe they simply like the way she thoughtfully humors every flight of fancy. Whatever the case - Emma knows her life would be far less interesting without the two in it. 

Ava has magic that likes to shake out and twinkle at the edges of her soft hair, similar in a way to Emma’s own powers. Unusual things happen around her, if you’re paying attention; lost things are more easily found, snacks and sweets turn up in unlikely places, and on one impressive occasion, a pair of fluffy orange and white kittens crawled out from beneath her bunk. 

“I can fix that,” she tells Emma innocently one day as Emma moves to throw a vase of wilted flowers out. She hasn’t prodded Ava about her powers before - it doesn’t seem the time to bring to the forefront all the things she can likely do, not when she’s still a little girl, not when Emma’s own childhood was largely sacrificed because of her own powers - but it’s a hard opportunity to pass up. It’s worth demonstrating to Ava, anyways, that her powers are simply a part of her, and nothing to make a fuss about.

“Can you show me?” Emma asks. It’s impossible not to smile when the little girl nods eagerly and furrows her brow in concentration, staring fixedly at the wilted daisies. Slowly but surely, the browned tips disappear, the petals straightening from their shrivelled state and the flowers once again lifting upright to seek the sun.

“That’s very well done, Ava,” Emma makes sure to tell her. 

“I know,” Ava replies seriously with all the intensity of a child her age. “Can you do that too?”

“I can.” Emma doesn’t tell people about her magic, usually, but Ava seems like a necessary exception - to let the little girl know she’s not entirely alone in her special, unusual skills.

“I thought so,” the little girl nods sagely. “I could feel it.”

It doesn’t surprise Emma in the least. 

Nicholas knows things that he shouldn’t - knows things that no one should know. Somehow, the stars speak to him in a language only he can understand. Nick sees things to come and things that have already happened, and sometimes divulges them readily and at the most unlikely times. 

“Is the scary lady with the dark hair your mama?” he asks one day out of the blue, startling Emma before she collects herself.

“No. She was my teacher,” Emma explains. 

“Oh.” His question asked, Nick happily goes back to playing quietly with his wooden lion. He’s less prone to chatter than his sister, happy to keep to his own thoughts when Ava isn’t pulling him into some other adventure. Emma rather wonders if it’s not because he has all the things he sees in the stars to keep him company. 

“Is there a reason you asked?” she inquires as casually as she can. “Did you… was there something you saw?”

“She hurt you,” is all he’ll say. “Before you were here.”

Something from the past, then - not so immediately alarming, though a sign she’ll need to be vigilant about hiding certain portions of her memories that young, impressionable and trusting minds shouldn’t be seeing.

“It’s alright, Nickie,” she tells him. “She isn’t around to bother me very often.”

He nods decisively. “Good.”

As he turns his attention back to his wooden lion, bringing a tiger in as well, Emma reaches out for the magic constantly humming about her and draws it into herself, directing to play through her mind and cast something almost like her invisibility cloak around her more traumatic memories to keep Nicholas from seeing. 

“Is there anything else?” she prods, mostly to test and see if the charm is effective.

Sure enough, the little boy’s face twists into a frown. “I don’t know,” he grumbles. “I can’t see.”

“Ah, well,” Emma replies in a purposefully light tone. “Maybe some other time.”

(She is not entirely sure she means it.)

Truth be told, Ava and Nicholas and their wondrous gifts are a beautiful mystery. All Emma knows is that it’s her responsibility to protect them from more sinister influences, the way she wishes someone had done for her. They deserve that. She deserved that. And she’ll be damned if they’re turned into pawns the way she was. 

There are many good things to come out of the Circus - friendship and wonder and home - but Emma thinks the Zimmer twins, and the powers they should be able to wield for good without the interference of people like Regina - are one of the best. 

——— 

There are attractions at the Circus unlike anything you’ve seen before, that you think may only exist within these iron gates. The Circus is a place where the otherworldly and impossible come to life.

This tent contains one such wonder, advertised with simple but mysterious words. This marker swirls and glistens in the moonlight, coaxing you inside to discover its secrets.

Stepping through the tent flap, brisk air tickles at your face - the first sign of what’s to come. Twisting through the interior are all manner of transparent structures, arranged in neat beds. The Ice Garden - just as promised. Each creation appears impossibly delicate and fragile, and by all logic, should be impossible on a warm summer’s night. There are lilies and roses and daisies, sculpted topiaries, winding vines, flowers that remind you of an illustration you once saw of tropical flora. A raised bed of cacti and succulents sprawls along one wall. Opposite, an apple tree, laden with fruit, arches gracefully at the edge of a silver-stoned path. There are little crystalline plaques, too, for all the plants whose names you’d never begin to guess: Shooting Star. Gayfeather. Anemones. Candelabra Primrose.

Every inch, every label, every petal, is made of ice.

Even at the Circus, such a thing should be impossible, This tent may be slightly, inexplicably cooler, but it’s by no means chilled enough to maintain this icy wonder. Though you know you shouldn’t touch, you can’t help but graze your fingers along an icy petal, just to make sure it isn’t cleverly blown glass. It’s a joyous mystery when they come away cold and wet, the sculptures revealed as ice in truth.

There’s no explanation for the Ice Garden - how it can exist at this edge of the Circus, seemingly unburdened by the laws of nature.

The longer you spend in the sparkling, colorless chill, the more you come to realize that beauty doesn’t need an explanation anyways.

———

Killian - 

I know it’s not quite the update you were asking for, but I still feel compelled to share - something wonderful and charming and amusing, and so delightfully human. I couldn’t quite resist writing to tell you. 

I could be wrong - but I believe a little fanclub has sprung up to trail the Circus. You’ll think it silly, Killian, but I am starting to recognize faces here - not of Circus members (I am not nearly so unobservant, or so rude not to recognize them by name after all these years!) but of visitors. There are a handful I could swear are coming over and over again. I’ll have to ask, next time I notice.

(Not that I can begrudge them of such - I certainly would be doing the same, in their shoes! It’s just that the fortunes get rather repetitive. I should probably let them know that the stars of fate do not change nearly as quickly as they seem to believe…)

There’s a certain awe, or maybe more like peace, that they wear on their faces as they move about the grounds that’s unique from all the other looks I see - almost like they’re coming home. I certainly know something about that - I think so many of us do. It’s wonderful, really - the way these visitors love the Circus so much that they feel compelled to return time and time again, joyously retracing the same paths over and over. It’s clear they love this place the way we do. Isn’t that just what we wanted, anyways? To make something for others to love, to play a part in bringing it to life? 

(Yes, I obviously remember that you’re also doing this for your mysterious competition - but I don’t believe someone makes something so beautiful without a generous dose of love as well. Don’t try to deny it, Killian - you know I’m always right.)

I hope you are well; no other news from here. As always, I’ll let you know if anything changes. 

Best wishes,

Belle

——— 

In time, the Circus gains followers.

It was probably inevitable, in a way; as the Circus winds its way across the world, through large cities and small towns, it touches countless lives as it goes, some more impactfully than others. There are those who visit once, and remember it fondly; those who take the opportunity to visit whenever the Circus is in their area, and look forward to it; and those who hold the memories close to one day tell their disbelieving grandchildren.

And then - there are the Rêveurs.

The Rêveurs start almost like a book club - groups of people who meet to reminisce about their favorite attractions, all the sights and smells and tastes that make the whole experience unforgettable. In time, the groups morph; they begin to go to the Circus together, and then travel to visit other Rêveurs when the Circus comes to their area. Particularly eloquent members begin to write into their local newspapers and magazines, beautiful editorials that convey love and wonder and coax thousands of others through the twisted iron gates. It becomes an entire movement, based off of a shared love, of people coming together to experience the Circus over and over again.

It is easy to spot the Rêveurs, if you know what you are looking for. In one of the editorials, an adherent mentions his own preferred way to experience the Circus - to blend in as much as he can, in all black and white, while still setting himself apart from those who bring the experience to life by adding a single touch of red. The trend catches on quickly; wandering the grounds, it is easy to spot splashes of red in the crowd, handkerchiefs peeking from pockets and roses or carnations in lapels and gloves and ribbons in hair. 

Some Rêveurs make sure to visit new attractions each time they visit; some prefer to see the same over and over, lingering in the acrobat tent or on the carousel for hours. In a way, they prove that there is no right or wrong way to experience the Circus - there will always be new things to see, and old favorites to return to. 

The members of the Circus are aware of the Rêveurs, too. Indeed, there are benefits to being in the same audience with that little flash of red, as performers bring out their best, most dazzling tricks and attempt new daring feats. Watching carefully, one might see a vendor slip a cup of cocoa or an extra serving of toasted nuts to a man or woman with that bare hint of color. All visitors to the Circus are valued, but the Rêveurs are treasured, in a different way, that makes every person involved in the endeavor want to do just the slightest bit more to bring the experience to life in a new way. 

The performers and vendors and other members of the Circus are its engine, in many ways - but the Rêveurs just might be its heart. 

———

Killian - 

I just realized that it’s been a while since my last letter - two months, I believe! Everything is perfectly fine here, I assure you. In fact, I haven’t written because there’s been nothing particularly notable to report. I’ve been watching for new additions, just as I always do, but nothing has appeared. Ah, well. We must be in a quiet stretch on that front.

Meanwhile, the Circus trundles onward, as it so often does. This week, we’re in Morocco. I’ve never been - and oh Killian, it is wonderful. The air is hot and dry and tinged with all kinds of spices that I can’t quite identify. And the food! A little group of us went and wandered in one of the markets, trying things from the stands. I’ve never tasted anything like it. What boring lives so many people lead, happy to stay on their own little island and pretend they know everything. This is so much preferable. The weather is a wonderful respite, too, from the cold I know must be sweeping through now that December is well and truly here.

I do not know if we’ll be home for Christmas; I rather doubt it. I’ll miss our usual holiday feast, but I trust that you’ll have a lovely time with your brother instead. My regards to Liam, as always.

Yours &c.,

Belle

———

Killian is lucky, in a way. After all, he has Belle and Liam, who both know about this competition. They’re his support system, the people who keep him grounded to life outside of all this - especially Liam. Lord knows Mr. Gold has never sought to do that. He doubts Miss Swan has that. Maybe he’s wrong; for her sake, he hopes he is. How lonely it must be to keep that secret, otherwise. 

Liam’s apartment is like a sanctuary at the end of a long day, where his brother waits with dark spiced rum and a roaring fire. Sometimes they venture out for dinner; some nights they stay in, and have the landlady send up something to eat. Mostly, Killian enjoys the peace of being in company that never expects more of him than he’s sure he can give. All Liam expects is companionship, and maybe for Killian to come with a nice bottle of spirits every so often. Killian can more than handle that. 

(They do not mention that Liam does not seem to age, the same way all those attached to the Circus do not. If his brother has even noticed, he remains blessedly silent on the subject.)

“Do you wonder sometimes,” Liam asks one night, “what would have happened if you hadn’t been selected by Gold? If you had turned him down?”

Killian shrugs. They’re in the middle of their third drinks - just the time for philosophical questions like these. “Not really,” he admits. “What’s the use? It happened like it happened. You wouldn’t have as nice a place as this, that’s for damn sure.”

Liam snorts, and the atmosphere turns more jovial for a few minutes as both men indulge in a drunken laugh before things turn thoughtful again. “If you had to do it all over again… would you?”

“I would,” Killian agrees. “We were a couple of scrappy orphans, no prospects, nothing. I’ve never been given a reason to truly regret it.”

“Then I’m happy for you, brother.” Liam tops off their glasses and raises his drink in a toast. “To good decisions, then!”

“To good decisions,” Killian echoes. “Or at least ones we haven’t yet regretted.”

———

Some attractions are more conventional in name, their promises familiar and comforting in that way that the expected can be. But this is the Circus, and conventional simply doesn’t exist here in the same way. 

You enter another tent to discover a hall of mirrors. It is a common enough attraction, at its core, one you have seen in other carnivals and street fairs. But true to the promise of the Circus, this version of such a fun house classic is more than you’ve ever seen. There are tall, full length mirrors, as you’ve come to expect, but small mirrors too, clustered on tables in every nook between their larger counterparts to reflect the lantern light in every direction. The mirrors don’t just distort your own reflection either; in addition to mirrors that cause your reflection to look taller or shorter or wider, there are mirrors to make you look older or younger, mirrors which change your hair, mirrors which duplicate your visage over and over again until you appear to be surrounded by a crowd of your own self in the mirror. There are even mirrors which somehow make it appear that you are someplace else entirely - by the seaside, the water slowly soaking your shoes, or in a fragrant flower garden, or wandering amidst ancient ruins. It is a clever trick, and one you won’t pretend to understand. In your heart, you never want to, for fear of ruining the illusion.

The world feels bright and new under the moonlight as you exit back outside the tent, like the hall of mirrors has helped you find a new way of seeing.

(And maybe, you realize, that’s the entire point.)

———

Killian takes small comfort in the fact that Mr. Gold seems pleased with his efforts. Truthfully, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows that somehow he’s supposed to demonstrate his abilities and magical knowledge on the canvas that is the Circus, but that only tells him so much. Killian adds attractions when he can, crafting things like the Hall of Mirrors in careful dioramas before sewing the plans into his master book, but it’s so hard to know if he’s on the right track. 

Mr. Gold has never been particularly involved in Killian’s life, and that doesn’t change now that the competition has well and truly begun. As a child, Killian had been largely self-taught, relying on the books that his teacher provided and the man himself only dropping in periodically to test his knowledge and comprehension. This feels like much the same thing; once a year, Mr. Gold will appear in Killian’s office after one of the Circus dinners, or outside his flat door without warning. There may be a polite inquiry about what Killian is currently working on, especially if the visit occurs in his cramped and ruthlessly organized office; more often than not, there isn’t. Killian will make polite inquiries about his mentor’s health and business, all of which are carefully avoided. Mr. Gold will state that he is satisfied with the work of his student - exactly that, and nothing more. 

Killian never expects an expression of pride; after all, he’s never received anything of the sort in all the years he’s been under his teacher’s direction. Theirs has always been a distant relationship, if it can even be called that. 

“How will I know I’ve won?” Killian dares to ask on one of these visits. “What do I have to do?”

“You’ll know, dearie,” is all his teacher will say. “Trust me, it will be very obvious.”

It is not. 

But Killian works onward, carefully building and manipulating things. Who knows? Maybe, one day, he’ll understand. 

———

The relationship between the members of the Circus and the Rêveurs has always been unusual. If it weren’t for the fact that the two groups are inextricably linked, and indeed obviously treasure one another, the interaction almost might be called respectfully distant. There exists an unspoken, but obviously adhered to, separation between the two - that there are Circus folks and there are Rêveurs, and they do not socially interact. Though a vendor or performer might, surreptitiously and casually, mention an anticipated next stop to an awed visitor with that single splash of red, they will not be found together in the light of day, strolling in the public parks or sharing a coffee in one of the cafés. The Rêveurs, largely, prefer it that way; the mystical quality is somehow kept alive when the people of the Circus only seem to dwell within its gates.

Of course, Emma has never been one for formality, or fitting in with the rest of the crowd. 

If pressed, she’ll claim that Marco is an anomaly - a man who fits between both worlds, and therefore special. It’s her own kind of loophole in the intricate rituals of the Circus and the Rêveurs. 

(No one ever presses, though - to do that, they’d need to know that Emma writes to Marco in the first place.)

Marco, in truth, has been involved in the Circus since the very beginning - though he did not always know it. An Italian by birth, living in Germany and creating exquisitely crafted cuckoo clocks, Mr. Marco Gepetto had been the very man contracted by Mr. Booth, the architect, to build the massive timepiece at the front gates, back when this whole endeavor was still coming together. Marco hadn’t been aware of that, at the time; all he’d known was that an Englishman had offered him a frankly absurd amount of money and next to no direction, only to create something unusual and extraordinary for a circus venue he was helping produce. With his rambling imagination and careful craftsman’s hands, Marco had more than delivered, creating the masterpiece Emma has found comfort in watching many times. 

That clock had always haunted him, he’s tried to explain to her many times during their correspondence, his mind running wild wondering exactly where it had been installed. Mr. Booth had sent a note declaring the producers delighted by the result, and Marco had never heard a peep again. Emma cannot blame him for wondering, truly, after all the months he had invested in the clock and all the personal touches he had poured in. The truth, he confides, is that he believed - nay, believes it to be his greatest work, all the while unaware that so many others were similarly touched. It was only years later that Marco had realized the grand project he had unknowingly helped bring to life, when an acquaintance had insisted they visit the traveling circus setting up just outside of Munich. 

“It was wonderful,” he gushes to Emma as they walk down the streets of Naples several years later, the older man happily pointing out the location of all the haunts of his younger days. “It was more than I ever could have imagined - and so well situated! So perfectly blended with the rest of the design! I must tip my cap to Signore Booth for his work, and all his compatriots.”

Marco had fallen in love with the circus on that first night, as a venue for his masterpiece and as a creation all its own. It was impossible not to, he had claimed later in the first of many editorials and subsequent letters - it was like the Circus called to him, begging him to uncover all its secrets. It may be the work of several lifetimes; perhaps, that’s just the appeal. 

He didn’t particularly mean to spearhead the Rêveurs movement, he’d explained to Emma in one letter. It was simply that he’d fallen in love, with a place and an experience, and wanted to share that with everyone else. It was just that he was the first, the first to not just talk about the Circus but publish his thoughts, that had made him the unexpected figurehead of the group. He’d been the one to come up with the idea of that touch of red, too, though he never admits it unless pressed. 

Letters flood in, from across Europe and the globe, wanting to compare experiences and share in the joy of the Circus. Marco gladly responds; many, indeed, become friends. But none is quite like Emma, who he only first knows as a woman with unusual insight into the Circus when she first begins writing, just another person who reaches out after one of his editorials. He assumes she’s just another of his Rêveur correspondents at first, but her thoughts, so carefully measured but fond, strike a chord somewhere in Marco. A friendship blossoms over dozens of letters exchanged, comparing experiences and details noticed and treasured - until, finally, this summit, as Marco had visited an elderly aunt while the Circus docked along the Italian coast. 

He takes the revelation that Emma isn’t merely some visitor, but a core member of the Circus, with an unexpected lack of surprise. “I wondered if you were rather closer to the matter than you let on,” Marco explains, patting her hand before tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “I shall consider myself uniquely lucky to have earned your friendship.”

And he has. Marco possesses a sharp mind and an affection for the little details that Emma loves, and an easy-going manner it proves near-impossible not to be charmed by. He fills something like a fatherly role, for Emma - always encouraging and delighted to hear about the latest improvements to her show. She doesn’t tell him that all the magic she does is real - but somehow feels that he understands, anyways. Marco is special like that, and perceptive. Somehow, Emma doubts that he’d be much surprised if she revealed the whole mess of the competition.

Marco may be physically distant from the ever-changing Circus grounds, and may not fully know what’s going on - but he’s a pillar of support, all the same, like Emma has never known.

(She only hopes he isn’t one more thing that’s just too good to last.)

——— 

Killian - 

At long last - an update! I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve had anything to report to you. Not that I don’t enjoy our correspondence, of course - it’s always so wonderful to share with you a little slice of my life here and hear from you in return. I simply feel so much better when I have something concrete to report to you, as we agreed.

I’m stalling, though. The truth is… I’m not entirely sure how to put into words exactly what this latest tent contains. It defies description, I find. The little sign along the path reads ‘Wishing Tree’, but that doesn’t describe much, does it? That could be anything. The Wishing Tree, in truth, is… oh, where do I start? It is somehow both earthly and otherworldly. It is both wondrously fantastical and firmly rooted in the soil. It exists both on this plane and in the world of dreams and aspirations. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that it is a contradiction, in the most spectacular way. Most simply put, if I stop beating around the bush, it is like a living, growing wishing well - but so much better than that, in its symbolism. There are no words to do it justice.

If you couldn’t tell already, Killian, I am insisting that you come and visit the Circus grounds next time it is convenient. There is no other way to fully grasp the delight of this latest addition. If I were not so terribly fond of you, I’d offer a hearty ‘Bravo!’ to your competitor - so count yourself lucky!

Yours,

-Belle

———

The Circus’ tents are filled with wonders - large and small, loud and quiet, and everything in between. What unites all the disparate attractions is a mystical quality - one that’s hard to put into words, but that makes every move and every moment greater and more magical than any similar display you may have seen before.

The particular tent in front of you is tall, but narrow, with a delicate wooden sign carefully placed to the side of the silvery-paved path leading beneath the entrance flap. Wishing Tree, it reads in a painted cursive script. An attraction you’ve never heard of.

Lifting the tent flap reveals just what was promised on the placard - a tall, elegant tree, all in the colors of the circus, with white bark and black leaves. The tree’s branches twist and curve around the tent, creating a structure almost reminiscent of a basket. Where it could be grotesque, the way branches stretch and dip around your body, but the effect is somehow comforting - like the tree protects all that it surrounds. It is otherworldly, in the truest sense of the word, an effect only heightened by the clusters of pearly white candles on each branch. By the entrance sits a small table, with a basket of candles and a crisp white card, embossed with a simple instruction:

Make a wish.

A wish is a sacred thing, and this is a place that respects that. After making your own wish, lighting your candle with one of the many already waiting on the tree’s branches, you place it in the highest nook you can reach where two branches join. There’s a profound symbolism to it all - one wish ignited by another, left to become part of a beautiful mass of light, illuminating this little corner of the world in soft and beautiful light. 

(That light will stay with you long after you slip back through the flap of the tent.)

———

At Belle’s urging, Killian makes the trip to see the Circus, and especially this new attraction, when they pass through Edinburgh. It is not precisely convenient - there are multiple trains involved from London, after all - but there’s no real telling when it will next be in the city, and he trusts Belle’s judgement that he must see this Wishing Tree for himself.

She’s right, of course. The Wishing Tree defies all conventional description. There’s a sense of possibility, and hope that just can’t be captured in a simple letter. Killian is sorely tempted to take a candle and light a wish of his own, but ultimately resists. The Wishing Tree isn’t just for some passing fancy - it is for the deepest dreams of one’s heart. As long as Killian is still unsure as to what his own dearest dream might be, it feels more appropriate to refrain from adding his own candle to the glowing branches. There will be time, later. 

His immediate business for the evening concluded, Killian takes the time just to wander the grounds. It’s something he hasn’t had the opportunity to do in far too long - there’s always been something to worry about, something to take care of when he comes to the Circus. This is a bit of a chance to try and experience things the way all their unknowing visitors do - to see the beauty, and the wonder, without analyzing anything further. Once he clears his mind, it’s easy to see the things the way that normal visitors do, the way something special sparkles in the very air.

There are still stops to make, of course; Belle would never forgive him if he didn’t pop into her tent. The fortune teller’s tent is made up to be an eye-catching oddity, but there’s still something welcoming about it that always soothes Killian - though maybe that’s just the knowledge of his dearest friend waiting just inside. Just inside the tent flap, dark curtains speckled with silver flecks like stars drape, giving way to a beaded fringe that softly clicks when touched. He’s been known to fiddle with those beads as he sits and talks with Belle, like a soothing sort of fidget. Beyond the beaded curtains sit three comfortable armchairs with a draped table at their center; Belle always does like the romance of reading for couples. There are no crystal balls, or posters about lines on palms; just Belle, the table and chairs, and her deck of tarot cards. Killian knows one of the curtains stretched behind her hides the entrance into her private quarters, where she’s been known to duck for a quick cup of tea, but no one else who didn’t know would see that. The whole effect is decidedly unusual, even mystical, but in a way that feels cozy. It’s like sitting in someone’s living room, sharing a bit of conversation - but the conversation concerns all manner of possible futures, and how they’ll come to pass.

Belle looks like herself, mostly, elegant in shades of white and grey and black and silver. She hasn’t leaned into any of the stereotypes or cliches - no scarf around her head or massive gold earrings or patchwork skirts. She looks like she could be any shop girl, or personal secretary, or even a beloved female relation in her neat dresses in playful patterns, accentuated with pretty bits of lace. There are more formal options in her closet too, he knows, provided by the Circus organizers for her use, but she likes this better; it makes her feel more like herself, and not entirely subsumed by the role she plays. 

“You came!” she crows with delight when he ducks his head past the beaded drapery. He hadn’t let her know he was coming, this time, happy to let it remain a pleasant surprise. Not that it matters much - Belle’s face would light up in delight in the same way, even if he had warned her to expect his visit.

“Of course I did, love,” he assures her with a grin. “You insisted, didn’t you? I seem to remember a very commanding letter, telling me I must come see this wishing tree for myself.”

“Yes, but there was always the chance you would get stubborn on me, or get called away on business for Jefferson, and I’d have to send another three to five letters until I finally guilted you here.”

“Alright, I suppose that’s true,” he admits. He does tend to get rather sidetracked much of the time, especially when there is work to be done and new, exciting ideas to explore.

“Instead, here you are! Only weeks after I wrote. A rare instance of agreeability - there’s hope for you yet,” she continues, only to plow forward before he even has a chance to defend himself. “But tell me - have you seen the Wishing Tree yet? Or did you come straight here first? I’m touched, of course, but really, you must —”

“I’m not nearly so foolish as to come here first, knowing you’d demand my own opinions on the tent just as soon as I arrived,” he teases fondly.

“Wise man. Tell me then - what did you think?”

“It’s everything you promised,” he tells her. “Utterly indescribable. I’m glad you insisted I come.”

The beam that graces Belle’s face at that simple agreement is a sight to behold.

“You’ll stay for a few days, won’t you?” she asks - cajoles, really, though Killian won’t take  any convincing. “It’s been so long.”

“Of course. We’ll have dinner tomorrow, and you can tell me everything you’ve seen since I last saw you.” It’s an easy promise to make, and one he’ll be even happier to keep.

Though Belle is an expected friendly face, one Killian had already built into his loose plans for tonight, the person he runs into as he wanders down the path away from her little tent is rather more unexpected.

“Mr. Jones,” Miss Elsa Frost smiles warmly - a member of the creative team of the circus, whose eye for details had been invaluable in creating this world so many have fallen in love with. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Nor did I,” Killian admits, executing a short and polite bow of greeting. “Especially not here, so far from London. May I escort you around the grounds, if I may be so bold?”

“You may,” Miss Frost says, slipping her delicate hand into the crook of his proffered arm. “I was just about to go see the magician - Miss Swan, was it? I’m told she should have a performance starting soon.”

“Then it will be my honor to accompany you.”

Though Killian has visited the Circus on several occasions in the past years, on business and to see Belle and to examine the creations of his competitor, he’s avoided this tent. It somehow feels like cheating, to watch Miss Swan like this with full awareness that she’s his competitor when she hasn’t been privy to the same knowledge. That’s not to say he hasn’t been tempted; across all the spiraling stone paths, her magic calls to his own like a siren’s song, drawing him in. Tonight, with a companion on his arm, he finally has the excuse to cave. As they approach her tent as others trickle in ahead of them, Killian makes sure to draw a spell around him to mask his own magic like a cloak, the same one he’d used that first day he’d seen her. Even if he feels guilt at the advantage, Killian isn’t quite sure he’s willing to tip his hand yet, no matter how often he’s been tempted. It’s not the time for such a revelation. 

(He doesn’t notice, beside him, the way Miss Frost’s forehead briefly creases as the spell settles around his body; it would not matter if he had, anyways, and the lady is more than happy to hold her tongue on the matter.)

The magician’s tent is small, intimate - a small clearing surrounded by a double ring of chairs. It’s a subtly ingenious way of heightening the drama and the enchantment of the performance: there is, quite literally, nowhere to hide, every angle visible to spectators as they space themselves around the center ring. A lesser magician would never be able to pull it off; it’s lucky, then that Miss Swan doesn’t have to rely on tricks.

Killian is the only one that notices that the tent flap has disappeared, two minutes past the hour. Everyone else is too busy whispering to each other, speculating about where the illusionist is and when the show will start. Unlike the rest of them, Killian waits patiently, knowing that the show has already begun.

No one misses the next trick, as a stream of flame chases around the tent above their heads. Gasps echo from the crowd, in excitement and wonder and no small dose of fear. A handful turn towards where the exit once was, only to discover that the way has been sealed and blocked by chairs during their inattention. Gasps turn to screams, panic quickly catching, until - 

A single figure stands from the audience, a woman with dramatic black skirts and what appears to be a men’s top hat. As she moves towards the center of the ring, she casually tosses the hat onto the seat she had occupied - and as if on cue, the streams of fire chase around the tent once more before plunging downwards, downwards into the hat, which somehow serves to contain the flames instead of catching on fire. As the rest of the audience comes back to their senses, turning their attention towards the slight blonde woman now at the center of the tent, she flicks a finger, sending the hat tumbling through the air to land in her hand, where she jauntily tips the black felt back onto her head and takes a dramatic bow.

And like that, the magician begins her show.

The displays that follow exceed Killian’s feeble memory of her audition, those several years ago. There are little miraculous bits she’s still using - the chairs still levitate, and the hat replaces the jacket as it turns into a beautiful black raven to fly about their heads - but there are new bits, too, as items disappear and reappear and visitors discover all manner of unexpected items in purses and pockets. Somehow, it all flows together seamlessly, one display of ability and control into another. At the very end, the fire returns again, chasing around and around and around her body until she can’t be seen anymore —

And when the flames disperse, all on their own, there is no one to be seen at all. The tent flap appears once again, and they all file out, awed in a way they hadn’t expected. 

It’s beautiful, mysterious, magnificent - just like the woman herself. And Killian can’t remember why he ever stayed away. 

———

Wandering the grounds of the Circus, it is impossible not to notice the statues scattered along the path. Some are monochromatic, fully pristine white or glistening black; some are so vividly realistic, in black and white and flesh tones, as to seem almost lifelike. There are single figures and couples, male portrayals and female, all beautifully detailed and caught mid-action. There is something mystical about them, something you can’t quite put your finger on but know separates them from anything else you’ve ever seen - a feeling that saturates the very air within the iron fencing. 

Examining the statues reveals that the life-like state of the statues is no trick, no clever construction of hard stone and a steady chisel - no, these are merely people mimicking statues by standing so still and moving so slowly as to trick the eye. This isn’t some mere street performer, either, like you might see near the buildings tourists frequent en masse. No, this is something more special, more deliberate, more enchanting. It is almost like a dance, performed on a timeframe only the dancer can perceive. Watching closely, it is possible to see the movement - though it will take much patience. It is easier, in some ways, to pay careful attention to the stance of the living statue at the beginning of a set period, and then see how it has changed some minutes later.

It is said that if you wait long enough, the statues will bend enough to pluck an offering from your very hand. However, it takes a certain kind of person, with a certain kind of fascination, to even try. After all, why spend so long examining statues, when there are so many other wonders to see? 

(Just before you walk away, you could swear the living statue of a young man winks an eye, all in impeccable slow motion - just one more memory of the Circus to treasure in your mind for years to come.)

——— 

The Circus returns when Henry is ten.

Ten is a sensitive age; it’s an age where one is still young enough to be excited about simple, playful things, but believe oneself to be too old to show it. Perceived maturity is beginning to be tantamount at this age, as is the idea of being cool.

Henry, for all his efforts (and a good bit of maturity, in truth), is perceived as neither. 

“The circus is for babies,” Jack Hastings declares in the schoolyard when Henry makes the mistake of mentioning that he’d seen the tents. A keen observer might find humor in the fact that Jack’s proclamation was made as he and the boys played with a collection of small wooden soldiers; the boys, however, are not yet adult enough to see the irony. “I’m not going.”

“I don’t know,” Henry ventures cautiously. “I think I might like to go. It isn’t very often something like the circus comes to town.”

“That’s because you’re a baby,” Jack taunts. “Henry’s a baby! Henry’s a baby!”

“Am not!” Henry bites back hotly before anyone else takes up the chant. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Then prove it.”

That’s how Henry finds himself examining the black iron bars that encircle the circus tents, searching for a way to slip in. It’s a dare - to sneak in, in daylight hours, and come back with something to prove it. Henry had agreed in the heat of the moment. Now, with school over, Henry’s got to do the deed, while all the other boys wait back in the schoolyard.

While Henry remembers the Circus practically crackling with its own special energy, things are quiet in the light of day. He supposes that makes sense; the Circus operates from sunset to sunrise, and it’s still an hour until dusk. Its performers need to rest and prepare and the like, like anyone else, and this is the time they get to do that.

After spending far more time than necessary carefully examining the outer fence, Henry finally finds a little out of the way stretch, framed by the back of two tents with no one in sight. The bars will be a tight squeeze, but he sucks in his stomach and holds his breath, and after a little bit of wiggling, manages to twist his way through. Quickly brushing himself off, Henry searches around for something he can bring back as proof for the other boys. The easiest thing to do would be to tear off a bit of fabric from one of the tents, but he struggles to bring himself to do it. The tents feel special, nearly sacred, somehow; it would be the worst kind of crime to ruin them in any way. Maybe, if he ventures a little further in, he can find something else —

“What are you doing?” a girl’s voice sounds, interrupting Henry’s thoughts. 

Whirling around, Henry is met by a blonde girl he could have sworn wasn’t there before, about his age, dressed in a black and silver striped dress. He didn’t know people his age were allowed to join the circus; it catches his attention nearly as much as the look on her face. Though her words are accusing, her face only shows curiosity. 

That does nothing to temper Henry’s shame, for better or worse. He didn’t exactly count on getting caught, after all. “There was a dare,” he blurts out. “To sneak into the circus.”

“Well, you managed that,” she observes. 

“Yes.” The silence sits heavy between them. Henry knows he ought to leave, but also feels like he can’t. “I’m sorry,” he finally cuts in - practically begs - once the quiet gets too much and he can’t take that curious stare anymore. “I can slip back out again, or pay the admission, or —”

That finally makes her smile - a bright, lovely thing that makes something stir within Henry that he’s never felt before. “It’s quite alright, Henry. You don’t need to leave. Nick saw you coming.”

He has many questions about that - how she knew his name, what in the world saw you coming means - but he reaches for the easiest first. “Who’s Nick?”

“My brother,” the girl beams. “Twin brother, really. I’m Ava.”

“It’s very nice to meet you.” It’s obvious that there’s no real point in offering his name; Henry is curiously less concerned about her unnatural knowledge than he figures he really ought to be. 

“Likewise,” Ava replies with that same smile, offering her hand for Henry to awkwardly shake. 

(For the first time in his life, he’s left wondering if he should have kissed the back of her offered hand instead. Then again - that sounds gross.)

“Come with me,” she commands with a little nod of her head. Even knowing he ought to slip back through the fence, Henry can’t help but follow, pulled along in a way that he doesn’t quite understand. “You picked a good day to come - Nick says the Circus will be closed tonight for inclement weather,” she adds with a hand waved towards the quickly gathering clouds.

“Yes, they just called it,” adds a different voice - another boy, this one also their age and with a remarkable resemblance to Ava. The biggest difference, really, is the boy’s light brown hair, a contrast to her cheery blonde. It’s obvious this is the twin brother she mentioned - Nick, who somehow knows things.

“He was there, just like you said, Nickie,” she laughs. “I don’t know why anyone bothers to doubt you.”

“They don’t know better,” Nick shrugs.

“Nick has a gift,” Ava explains. “He sees things that others don’t - and they always come true.”

“Oh.” Henry isn’t really sure what to say to that, honestly. He doesn’t disbelieve it, really - Ava did know things she shouldn’t have, without what they claim being true - but he’s a little too flabbergasted at it all to say anything more comprehensible. Besides, if such a thing were to be true - well, it makes sense that it’d happen at the Circus. Where else is magical enough to shelter people with such talents?

Ava breezes right past it though. That must be characteristic of her, if the way her brother stifles a smile is any indication. “There’s always a party in the acrobats’ tent whenever the weather is too bad to open. It’s the biggest, you know.”

“You can come too, if you want,” Nick adds.

Despite the tempting offer, Henry frowns. “I’m not part of the Circus, though. Won’t anyone mind?”

“Circus people are welcoming,” Nick shrugs. “They won’t mind.”

“Besides, everyone thinks we need friends our own age,” Ava chimes in. 

As the sun starts to creep below the horizon, Henry lets the twins lead him across the circus grounds. He wants to go, really - besides, there’s no reason not to. There’s no one waiting who will care if he doesn’t show up for dinner, or even for bedtime. 

(Nick probably already knows that as well; perhaps that’s why neither of them ask whether he needs to be home.)

The inclement weather party is a different kind of marvel than the otherworldly splendor of the open circus that Henry remembers. It seems like everyone is crowded into the tent as raindrops start to patter down upon the canvas, yet somehow the space never seems claustrophobic. Half the collected mass is in their black and white and silver circus clothes, while the other half wears street clothes in all manner of colors and styles. Laughter colors the air, as small groups congregate only to disperse and remingle again. It feels like a family, like a great big reunion, even though Henry is sure they’re not all related. 

(Then again, maybe family doesn’t have to be linked by blood and genealogical trees; maybe family is something that can be crafted with those you choose and care for.)

Ava tugs on his arm before he can get too lost in his thoughts and marvelling at the spectacle of the tent. “You should meet Emma,” she says. At her side, Nick nods in genial agreement. “You’ll like her. She’s the magician.”

She doesn’t quite bodily haul him across the tent space, but it’s close. Henry would complain, but it isn’t hurting; he can tell she’s just eager to share her and Nick’s world in a way she hasn’t with outsiders before. At least, Henry hopes she hasn’t shared all this with outsiders before; Henry’s never really had the chance to be special. It’d be a nice change. 

Eventually, she halts in front of a cluster of women - three brunettes and a blonde. All smile fondly as Ava approaches with Henry in tow. “Emma, I want you to meet someone!” Ava bursts out as they pull to a stop.

“I can see that,” the blonde chuckles as her companions move away. Henry’s distracted for a moment by the movement of the other three ladies, but forces his attention back to meet the magician’s eyes.

And it’s her - the nice lady from the last time he was here. Henry’s face flushes red as he remembers his youthful question - Are you a princess?. She still looks like a princess, four years later, only in a burgundy dress with her hair in a simple bun instead of her sumptuous black and white dress from the last time they met. He can see the moment recognition sweeps across Emma’s face, and knows she remembers too. 

“Henry, was it?” Emma smiles down at him. Somehow, he manages a nod of confirmation. “It’s lovely to see you again, Henry.”

Ava’s face drops a little in disappointment, and a hint of confusion. Seems this is one thing her brother’s visions didn’t reveal - or at least one thing he didn’t share with her. “You know each other already?”

“Only a little,” Henry hastens to explain. It somehow feels very important that Ava know he didn’t deceive her in this way. 

“Henry and I briefly crossed paths the last time the Circus was here - what, four years ago?” Henry nods again. Emma and Ava and Nick and the rest of the Circus may have been to so many places since them that they don’t remember exactly how long it’s been, but Henry could probably tell them down to the day if he just had a couple of minutes to think. “He was kind enough to let me escort him back to the front gates. I must say, I didn’t expect to see him here tonight, though… is there anything I ought to know?”

“No!” Ava assures quickly. It’s not remotely convincing; Henry barely manages to smother a smile as she continues her blatant evasion. “We should go get a little something to eat. Come on, Henry, let’s go!”

To be fair, the spread that Ava leads him to - Nick pulling up the rear, laughing - is very impressive. There are all manner of little finger foods to carry with him, savory and sweet, and an older lady the twins call Granny who presides over the whole thing and makes Henry take another sandwich. All of the circus members - and it feels like Henry’s introduced to every single one - seem to treat the twins like a niece and nephew, or maybe even children. There’s an affection in the air amongst everyone that’s almost palpable, and like nothing he’s ever encountered before. It’s hard not to feel a little jealous of his new friends; it’s everything he’s ever wished for himself. 

Eventually, he’s dragged across the grounds to what they’ll only call the cloud room after a stop by Emma again for a set of umbrellas that seem to actively repel water. 

“It’s my favorite spot,” Nick explains as they shake off their umbrellas just inside the tent flap in a dim antechamber. Henry had barely caught a glimpse of the signage before he’d been bustled inside; Atmospheric Wonders had been less than illuminating a descriptor. “Ava’s is the carousel.”

“I like the animals,” she shrugs. “They’re interesting.”

“Yeah, well, so is this,” her brother quips back. “Henry, look.”

And when Henry does - it’s more than his imagination ever expected.

Somehow, there are dozens of fluffy clouds floating within the confines of the tent, the top of the peaked canvas not even visible for all the clouds in the way. They come in all sizes, all winding around a central, silvery structure with a platform at the top and a slide spiraling back down to the ground. Somehow along the stretch from the ground to the indiscernible peak, the stripes shift into a night sky gently dappled with stars. It’s mystical, and marvelous, and unlike anything he’s ever imagined. 

Henry has barely processed what he’s seeing before Nick takes a flying leap onto a cloud hovering at chest height. Miraculously, it somehow holds his weight, bobbing gently in the air under the change of balance but showing no signs of capsizing.

“It’s really very sturdy,” he calls from his perch, grinning with glee. “There’s nothing to worry about, I promise.”

Carefully, Henry steps onto a different cloud hovering about his knees; that’s less distance to fall if there’s any problem. Under his feet, the cloud isn’t exactly firm, or stable - it’s more like if you try to step onto a mattress - but he can also feel that he’s not at risk of crashing down. Somehow, it’s just as safe as Nick promised. 

(How did he miss this before? Now that Henry’s here, he’s not sure he ever wants to leave.)

Ava clambers up onto a cloud somewhere between him and Nick, abandoning grace to pull herself to standing. “It’s a newer tent,” she explains, brushing her skirt free of imaginary cloud dust and casually reading Henry’s mind. Maybe her brother isn’t the only one with special powers of sight. “It only went up a couple months ago, right, Nick?”

“January,” he confirms. “Just after the new year’s party.”

“Not a lot of people know about it yet - but it’s one of our favorites now. Nick and I like to come on the nights we’re not busy with other things.”

Across from them both, Nick obviously grows impatient with all the chatter, leaping to another, higher cloud. “Race you to the top!” he yells back, quickly becoming obscured from sight as he scrambles higher and higher.

Ava stretches her hand across the divide to help him forward. “You’re going to love it,” she beams.

Henry takes her hand, gladly, and lets a smile crease his face even as hers stretches impossibly wider. 

He does love it, just as she promised. The view from the top is spectacular, like something out of a fairy tale, an impression only magnified by small tufts of cloud still hovering around, inviting them to lounge. It would be a good place just to sit and think, Henry thinks, if you lived with the Circus and had that chance. 

Time passes both quickly and slowly at the top of the tower as the three of them sit and talk for what must be hours. Henry feels as if he’s known the twins forever, not just a night - like he fits with them, somehow, in a way he never has with his schoolmates or the other children at the Home, and can’t explain.

(It’s the same feeling he remembers from the first time he visited the Circus, four years before. Of belonging. Of home.)

All too soon, things much end, however. As the conversation encounters a rare lull, Henry sighs heavily, knowing he must draw this to a close. 

“I have to go,” he tells his companions - now friends, he thinks - with the kind of regret that’s practically palpable. 

Ava nods sadly; Henry scrambles to his feet to help her do the same. It’s what a gentleman would do. “We know. But this was lovely.”

“And you’ll be back,” Nick says decisively. “I know it.”

It’s not worth arguing with the boy with a gift. 

Getting down from their perch takes a little more boldness. Technically, there is a slide they could all take advantage of, but Nick won’t let that stand. 

“You’ve got to jump, Henry,” he cajoles. “It’s so much more fun. You feel like you’re flying!”

“More like falling,” Henry mutters. Even if he knows that Nick wouldn’t try to hurt him, like some of the boys at school might, looking down from this height makes his stomach turn. 

Suddenly, a soft hand slips into his own. Ava, who slipped up beside him while he was distracted by the height. “We’ll do it together,” she promises, and somehow - Henry finds himself nodding.

Nick lets out a wild whoop and throws himself off the platform, gleefully tumbling down and down. Ava squeezes his hand tight, just the once, and then she’s running too, bringing Henry with her as they leap. It feels like he’s left his stomach up at the top, but it’s a little freeing too. At the bottom, a particularly soft cloud cushions their fall, surrounding them like a hug. Henry even finds himself laughing along with Ava and Nick as they pick themselves back up. 

Ava walks him back to the main gates under the marvelous umbrella, Nick letting them go on their own after offering Henry a jolly wave goodbye. The door in the iron bars opens without even a squeak, letting the both of them slip through. 

“I don’t want to leave,” Henry confides, the words spilling out of him almost without permission. “I don’t want to go back to the real world out there.”

“You’ll be back,” Ava promises. “We’ll see each other again - I promise.”

He wants to believe her - he does. But it’s a mean world out there, and he’s long since learned that nothing is guaranteed, and —

Ava presses up on her toes to drop a quick kiss on Henry’s lips - his first. It’s just a little peck, really, but it makes them both blush and sends something hopeful in his soul soaring above all the other negativity. 

“To seal it. The promise,” she explains.

No explanation was needed, really - not to the perfect ending to this dream of a night.

(He does not return to the Circus this time, the Sisters punishing him with extra chores when he sneaks back into the Home long after bed checks. Though he would like nothing more than to return back to the Circus and his new friends, he somehow can’t regret it. Every moment was worth it.

Later, he finds a single glove, white with shiny black buttons, tucked into his pocket - proof for his dare. He never shows it off to the other boys; the little scrap of fabric is too personal, and too precious. Instead, he tucks it into the old cigar box he keeps all his treasures in, amongst the perfectly round stones and colored bits of glass and a brightly colored birds’ feather. Let them think he never managed it. They’ll forget soon enough anyways. 

We’ll see each other again, Ava had promised - and Henry intends to wait.)

——— 

There’s a new attraction at the Circus again, Killian - the most wonderful carousel. There’s the usual carved horses, of course, all wonderfully detailed, but there’s all manner of other creatures too - giraffes and elephants and a particularly clever ostrich. There’s even some mythical creatures too. I’m particularly fond of the gryphon, though I suspect you might prefer the dragon. There’s even a bench seat with a kraken twining around it! It’s truly charming; the kids love it, obviously, but it’s wonderful to see the delight of grown men and women too. I believe I saw a young couple squabbling over the cow yesterday; the lady won, of course. Wise man. 

If you hadn’t guessed already, the carousel is very obviously a creation of your winsome competitor. The ride travels through an enclosed portion at the back, ostensibly to parade the figures and their riders past a scrolling display of landscapes; however, having ridden the thing myself (I couldn’t resist, Killian! And obviously chose the gryphon, though I was tempted by a polar bear), it’s obvious that this tunnel somehow bends reality, stretches the track much further than it should ever go. Magic is obviously at play, here, though I believe the visitors are too enthralled (and, as usual, too oblivious) to realize. 

There’s something else a little unusual about the carousel: Mr. Booth’s part in bringing it to life. He was here in Brussels to oversee installation, or I might not have believed it. You know as well as I that usually, new installments just… pop up, without explanation. His craftsmanship is evident in the construction, too, if you know to look - the smooth curves and the intricate carvings and the way the peak of the striped roof stretches up towards the sky. It’s lovely, really, and undeniably a joint effort between Mr. Booth and Miss Swan. 

Does that mean he’s aware of her abilities? I can’t say for certain, but I have trouble imagining otherwise. It could be interesting to see if you could enlist him in a similar effort - though of course, that’s entirely up to you. I’m merely reporting your opponent’s most recent move on the chessboard, so to speak.

(Do come see the carousel, though; I promise you won’t regret it.)

Affectionately yours,

Belle

———

Killian folds Belle’s latest letter carefully, considering her words as he meticulously files the pages away, just as he always does. The new carousel sounds beautiful, of course; Miss Swan’s creations always are. The fact that she enlisted August Booth to create it captures his attention the same way it had Belle’s. That’s something he never considered - drawing upon others’ skills to create something that is not entirely mechanical, but not fully dependent on magic either. He should have thought of it sooner - after all, the Circus as a whole operates in a similar way, weaving enchantments in amongst all the physical manpower needed to bring the whole thing to life. It sets Killian’s mind running in other directions, other ideas that could be brought to life in the same way. And if Booth is aware of the things Miss Swan can do… perhaps he can serve as an intermediary, of sorts, in a way that could bring this competition to a new level.

But Killian is a patient man, a planner through and through. It’s his greatest advantage in his employment and in this game. So before he lets his imagination run away with him, drafting things that can never come to fruition, he calls upon Booth at his office to test the waters of what is possible. 

“I didn’t expect to see you, Jones,” the other man says, smiling genially as he comes out from around the back of his heavy wooden desk to offer a handshake of greeting. 

“It was a bit of an unplanned visit,” Killian admits as he seats himself in the offered chair. 

“Well that’s quite alright. What can I do for you? Is this about the Circus, or are you finally looking to build something more comfortable than that little flat of yours?”

“It’s about the Circus.” Killian lets his gaze glance around the room before he speaks further, considering his next words. Though the furniture in the office at Booth’s architecture firm is heavy, with dark wood and intricate carvings and tall bookshelves lining two walls, the whole thing manages to avoid a feeling of claustrophobia due to a stretch of tall windows along one wall. A panel of stained glass is installed in the middle, with beautiful swirling patterns in all kinds of colors. The whole effect is a little whimsical, while somehow still ordered and elegant. In that moment, Killian can see exactly why August Booth was chosen as a partner to produce the Circus. 

Drawing his attention back to Booth, Killian finds the man patiently waiting for him to start speaking, prompting him to gather his thoughts. “I understand you had a hand in creating a new attraction - a carousel.”

“Ah yes,” August smiles. His tone is fond, almost like a parent speaking of a favorite child. “Marvelous, isn’t it? Though, of course, I can’t take full credit - or even most of the credit, really.”

“So you’re aware of others’... unusual contributions, shall we say.”

Booth makes an amused, guttural noise from the back of his throat. “I may be a skilled designer, but not nearly enough to create space that’s not there. And I’m not nearly oblivious or egotistical enough to believe I can. Besides, Miss Swan was involved from the beginning. The carousel was her idea.”

That’s one question answered. “So how much did Miss Swan tell you about her… abilities, I suppose? And her influence on the Circus?”

“A rudimentary explanation, I believe - just as much as I needed to agree to assist her. All her illusions are real, true magic, and she’s engaged in a competition to be played out at the Circus.” Realization suddenly lights his eyes. “I suppose that makes you the competitor, then? She didn’t seem to know who they were.”

“Aye, I am. And I would appreciate it if you would keep that fact between us. This particular game doesn’t precisely encourage familiarity between contestants.”

August waves him off. “Of course. Now, are you here just to talk about the carousel - or do you have something else in mind?”

“You read my mind,” Killian says, letting a smile spread across his face. “I have an unusual idea, one that I think you can be of assistance with.”

———

Emma should have known that her opponent would hear of the carousel, and of her partnership with Mr. Booth. What she hadn’t expected was for Mr. Booth to send her a letter, detailing an idea her competitor had brought to him.

One they want her involvement in as well.

It’s a simple idea, on the surface - a maze of rooms. Its brilliance is in how it allows the two of them to interact and compete directly as they build off of each others’ ideas. Once the maze is brought to life, once visitors enter the tent, they reach a hallway lined with doors, each leading into other rooms with other doors, and so on. Some will be hidden; some will be obvious. It is entirely up to Emma and whoever she is competing against to build out each room, testing the limits of imagination and reality and magic. 

It’s like a puzzle on a massive scale - each piece fitting into others which in turn fit into others. It’s fascinating to see the things her opponent comes up with over time - creations that play with structure, with scale, like golden bird cages and a room where everything appears so large as to dwarf the viewer. She treasures exploring each one, finding all the hidden doors and discerning the way everything fits together. 

Emma has a niggling feeling that this is not exactly how their competition is supposed to play out - but as she opens another door, she can’t bring herself to care. 

——— 

Maybe it’s ridiculous - but Killian feels like he comes to know the lovely Miss Swan a little better through the room maze and each addition she crafts from her imagination.

She focuses on creating an atmosphere, he finds - the little things that make each space feel like an environment, rather than a room. There are lush green jungles and arid desertscapes and the illusion of a lovely rose garden. He wonders if she feels trapped; all the illusions of open spaces make him think she might. 

He can tell she truly loves the circus in all the little details she weaves in, too. It must take her incredible effort, but it’s worth it to see how leaves glisten with dew and the barest scent of earth or flowers tickles his nose and heat or chill dances along his skin. There’s pride to be found in the work she creates - all the things that take each room of the maze from the illusion of a space into something tangible and believable as its own natural world.

She’s smart, too: the hatches and doors out of her rooms are cleverly hidden, and often require searching for a key first. Killian thinks she might be trying to stump him, for all the time he spends searching for the way out in some rooms. Would she laugh if she could see him? Is he reacting in exactly the way she anticipated, or even intended?

(Would he even mind?)

He’s not such a fool as to fall a little in love with his opponent in the rooms that she builds, but he does delight in receiving these little insights to her personality. It reminds him that Miss Swan is more than his opponent - she’s a person, and one he’d love to know under other circumstances.

Only time will tell whether that makes things easier or harder.

———

To no one’s particular surprise, Regina does not approve of the maze.

“This is a waste of your time,” she proclaims to Emma on one of her rare (and never welcomed) visits. “You’re supposed to be competing, not… collaborating.” She spits out the word like it’s a profanity; who knows, it likely is in her mind. Emma wouldn’t be entirely surprised. 

“Isn’t this just a different way of competing?” Emma asks. Truthfully, she doesn’t see the fuss. “I’d think it would be easier to compare, when we have to share the same structure. Well, even more than we usually do.”

“This is not how things are supposed to work,” Regina snaps. “I didn’t train you to be so stupid about this, Emma. You know better - this is… frivolous!”

“I like it,” Emma says, letting her voice display a quiet defiance. “I think it’s wonderful.”

That’s why she’d led Regina to the maze in the first place, instead of simply taking tea in her compartment as usual - a little childish thought that maybe her mentor would see all the careful crafting she had put into each chamber. That maybe she would appreciate this unusual way in which Emma was stretching her abilities beyond what she thought was possible, challenged by the necessity of working around someone else’s ideas in the most literal, compressed way. That maybe she would be proud.

Pride, at least for others, is not something that’s in Regina’s vocabulary, however - something that Emma has never been more aware of than in this moment, standing amongst the hedges of a shifting maze within a maze. It’s an ever-changing creation, one that Emma had been particularly proud of.

It’s easier simply to wind their way to the closest exit than to attempt to convince Regina any further; Emma has long since learned her mentor is an immovable force. If Regina hasn’t been swayed by the creativity and brilliance of seeing the maze in person, no words will do it. So they’ll exit the maze and slip back into the backstage rooms, where Regina can berate her about her work ethic and how it seems like Emma doesn’t even want this while still failing to offer any concrete details or advice, until Emma can make her escape to perform another show, displaying her abilities to a kinder audience. That’s how these things always seem to go, and now that her foolishly hopeful little bubble has been broken, there’s no reason they won’t go that way again. 

Then again, there’s alway room for surprises and changes from the norm; Emma should know that, after so many years here at the Circus. As they exit into the chilled night air, Emma - and more importantly, Regina - clearly didn’t expect to run into Mulan as the sword swallower wandered back towards her own lodgings.

Most days, Emma almost forgets this other source of magic buzzing around the circus. It’s like white noise, almost; something Emma is subconsciously aware of, and can focus on when she chooses, but fades into the background most of the time. They’re friendly, but not quite friends - happy to spend time with one another, but rarely seeking each other out. Mulan is closer with Ruby, or with Belle. It’s easy, in that way, for Emma to forget the higher force that binds the two of them together - Regina herself, who has been a teacher to both of them. 

It is visibly obvious the moment they catch sight of one another: both straighten to their most rigid posture, Regina’s face shifting into something even more haughty than her usual mien, and Mulan shifting to something cool and dangerous. The air between them practically crackles with restrained magical energy, sending the hair on Emma’s arms to stand on end. Emma sends a silent thanks to whomever may be listening that this meeting occurred firmly in public; while the confrontation is primed to be bad as it is, she wouldn’t relish being forced between them in a private setting. Or a dark alley.

For all of the danger sparking the air, it is almost anticlimactic when each party finally finds their words. “Regina,” Mulan says, coolly polite and with the barest incline of her head. Regina only jerks her chin in a broken nod in response. 

And then they’re moving their separate ways, the whole thing over. Maybe it’s better that way; it would be a pity if the Circus was razed to the ground, after they’ve all put so much effort into the venue. There’s a story there, though, one Emma doesn’t know but can’t help but wonder about. She’ll have to ask Mulan, later; she knows very well that asking Regina will bear no fruit. 

(She never does, of course, just another intention lost to time and her mentor’s berating. Not that it would have done any good, anyways. Mulan keeps her secrets locked as tight as the most impressive safe.)

———

Emma knows Belle, of course - they’ve both been with the Circus for more than a decade, and Emma isn’t entirely self absorbed. They’re even friendly, in that way two people who work together but aren’t particularly close can be. But never once in all that time can Emma remember actively seeking the other woman out - for her skills or anything else. 

Belle’s particular skill unsettles Emma, she supposes. It feels a little hypocritical - Emma has magic, after all, she shouldn’t feel so uncomfortable about fortune-telling. There’s something about the talent to see glimpses of the future, however, that has never sat quite right in her mind - that has always made her ever so slightly uncomfortable. It’s not Belle’s fault; Emma knows as well as anyone that sometimes, these kinds of gifts choose their recipient instead of the other way around. 

There’s something in the air, though, something Emma can’t quite identify. There’s a niggling feeling of anticipation, like a reverse deja vu, where Emma knows something is coming, but doesn’t know what or how or when. She’s never been particularly good with that kind of uncertainty, searching for control wherever possible. It’s that search for control that brings her to Belle, seeking answers anywhere she can find them. Unusual times call for unusual measures, or some other such cliché. 

Emma goes at night, while the Circus is open, in between her own performances - just like any other querrant. It’s a simple thing to blend into the crowd - after all, no one is expecting  the illusionist to wander among them, especially in a dark coat and skirts turned crimson red with the touch of a finger. It takes no magic at all to slip down the silvery paths and duck into a tent labeled Fortune Teller: Feats of Fate and Prophecy. 

Belle snaps into character as soon as Emma brushes past the beaded curtain welcoming visitors into her space, only to relax again as she recognizes Emma’s face. “What a lovely surprise,” she comments with a pleased smile. “Sit down, sit down. What can I do for you, Emma?”

“I was hoping for a reading,” Emma explains as casually as possible - as if this is no great favor. Still, it shoots the brunette’s eyebrows up towards her hairline in surprise. 

“I must say, I didn’t expect that,” she comments. “I don’t believe you’ve asked such a thing of me before.”

“I haven’t felt the desire before.”

“Ah. You must face some kind of crossroads, then.” 

“Truthfully, I am not even sure enough to say that much,” Emma admits. Summoning a few coins into her hand, she pushes them across the table - payment for services rendered, as is typically custom in Belle’s little nook. “I hoped you might be able to shed more light on the matter than I can currently discern.”

Belle pushes the coins back. “Keep your money. Consider this a gift for a friend. Now, shall we?” As soon as Emma nods, Belle begins shuffling the cards - a quick, hypnotic motion, as each card flies past again and again. Once she’s satisfied with the shuffle, she carefully fans the cards across her table, face down. “Pick a card to represent yourself, if you please.”

Emma contemplates her options; truthfully, the tarot has never called to her, and this moment is no different. After some short examination, she selects one barely visible towards the left-hand side.

Belle chuckles a little as she turns the card over - and Emma can see exactly why, as soon as she sees the card. The Magician. 

“Now, this card often represents a plethora of abilities or options you may not be fully aware of, especially in the face of impending change or disaster,” Belle explains. “And that may still be the case. However, under the circumstances, I suspect this card is supposed to be taken rather more literally in this particular reading, Madame Magician.”

Belle shuffles again, before cutting the deck into three portions and directing Emma to select one. Replacing the selected stack back at the top at the pile, she quickly doles the cards back out, in practiced patterns and an unexpected elegance. There are flashes of cups and swords on the cards between them, interspersed with picture cards of women and wheels and a couple reaching for one another.

(Emma does not think she has the time for whatever a card like The Lovers may symbolize.)

“I see what you mean,” Belle says after a long moment. “There are significant changes here - in circumstance, in thinking, and in feelings. Whatever knot you have been working at in your mind will begin to unravel - one change that will spur many more. Now these changes - they seem imminent.”

“How imminent?”

Belle cocks her head, examining again. “There’s rarely an evident timeline that I can see,” she admits, “but I would wager in the coming weeks or months.”

Emma nods. It’s not really an answer - but it feels like validation, somehow. Like someone else can sense that something is on the horizon. 

“Now, I asked about a crossroads, before we started,” Belle continues. “The changes that are coming - they will not be your crossroads. This will not be the moment you have to make that decision. But each change will compound upon each other until it leads you to that crossroads - a choice you’ll make that will change everything, again. It will not be for some time yet, but those seeds are being sown now.”

Emma nods slowly, taking it all in. There is an odd comfort in Belle’s words, even as Emma tells herself not to put too much stock in it. “Thank you,” she finally says. “Is there anything else you can see?”

Belle shakes her head ruefully. “Not that I can see now, no. But I’ll keep looking. Sometimes, these things make themselves clearer given a few hours to think on them.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Emma ponders the words as she emerges back into the night. A momentous change to come seems inevitable - both from her instincts and Belle’s own readings. All that’s left to do is brace herself and face that change with an open mind and courage.

The weeks and months to come may change everything - and Emma intends to be ready for it. 

———

We’ll be back in England next month - just in time for the rains, I’m sure. As if they ever stop. I anticipate many inclement weather parties in my future, and I don’t even need the cards to tell me that. 

Speaking of which - be on the lookout for something, Killian. Change is in the cards and in the air. Something is on the horizon, and I think it’s best you be ready for whatever that might be.

We’ll have tea one afternoon next time I’m in town, and you can buy me an absurd amount of books. I have several recommendations to give you from the last batch. I expect you’ll feign interest and the time to read, just as always, but I don’t particularly care. You’ll do it because I’m your friend, and you love me.

Yours &c., 

Belle

———

That same feeling of anticipation, of something in the air, only intensifies when the Circus returns to London for a short stretch. It’s been growing ever since Emma spoke with Belle, becoming more urgent as time goes by. A breaking point must come soon - though what that will herald, Emma doesn’t pretend to know. There’s no use continuing to worry over something that will only reveal itself at the right time.

Emma throws herself into rediscovery instead, wandering all those places she used to know. It’s hard to call London home, even though she grew up here - that designation has only ever belonged to her cramped and cozy little train compartment - but the city is familiar in a way that’s comforting. She spent the first 24 years of her life here, after all; even trapped under Regina’s thumb, she was able to discover little corners of the city all her own, park benches and cafe tables and backstage theater rooms. 

(She doesn’t intend to visit her benefactor during this stop, if she can at all help it; bringing Regina into things always invites trouble that Emma would rather avoid.)

It’s raining on their first day in town, of course, like her own meteorological welcome. Emma smiles a bit at the thought of the clouds and raindrops and wind whispering a hello - though truthfully, she’s seen odder things. She’s orchestrated odder things. The soft patter of raindrops on her umbrella is almost soothing as she walks down the cobbled streets to a favorite remembered cafe. Emma loves the Circus with every fiber of her being, both as her creation and as her home; still, sometimes it’s nice to escape for an afternoon and enjoy the anonymity of people watching or reading a nice book. Some days, she wants that distance; to be just another face in the crowd.

The afternoon passes quietly and uneventfully with her tea and scone and a silly novel. It’s easy to blend into this little corner of London, tucked into the corner of a quiet street off the main road. Emma has always liked this place, and tries to visit whenever she’s in the city; it’s something about the way that light dapples through the wide windows at the front, always perpetually just the slightest bit grimy, like dirt had accumulated just as soon as some poor soul had taken the efforts to clean them off. The used bookstore just across the street is a wonderful bonus too, where Emma sometimes finds unexpected treasures. Here, she can be just anyone else - no expectations, no grand fate. Just a woman at a weathered table. 

All too soon, the clock on the wall chimes 4pm, prompting Emma to gather her things to leave. This time of year, even though spring approaches, the sun still sets early, heralding the opening of the circus’ wide gates. Emma is lucky enough to set her own performance hours during the night, generally aiming to do three or four shows in an evening; however, it’s still important that she’s fully ready for the evening by the time the first visitors trickle into the grounds, regardless of the fact that she won’t make her own dramatic entrance for at least another half hour. 

As she bustles out the door, she mentally runs through her checklist for the night of tricks she might like to perform. That’s the freeing thing about performing with real magic; not having to depend on mechanics means that she can improvise, that every single show can be different as she feeds off the audience and her current whims. 

She’s so busy running through her possibilities for the night that she doesn’t notice she’s grabbed the wrong umbrella - not at first, at least. It’s just one amongst a cluster of black fabric in the umbrella stand, each nearly identical to each other. Emma’s put a special charm on hers that repels the rain; that slight buzz of magic is the only thing that differentiates hers from all the others. She picks it out by the feel alone, absentmindedly, before exiting into the deluge.

Something is off, though - something she realizes the further she walks from the cafe and comes back to full awareness. The charm on the umbrella is wonderfully effective, as always, but there’s something… wrong about the magic. Emma’s own magic has a particular warm feel to it, one that largely fades into the background of her mind until she barely notices it. This, though… the buzz continues, like a pricking or a tickle under her skin. Foreign.

Not hers.

Realization draws her up short. This umbrella - clearly imbued with powerful magic - magic like her opponent would possess - in the cafe at the same time - 

A polite clearing of the throat causes Emma to whip around, revealing an unexpectedly familiar face: Jefferson’s assistant, the handsome one, who she remembers lurking at the edges of ballrooms and the back of theatres and in the densest of crowds. Jones - something with a K. Or a C? Kelvin? Carson? No —

“Excuse me, Miss Swan,” Killian Jones smiles warmly, “but I believe you have my umbrella.”

[mothpile]

*imagine i am a small little 1900s british boy looking at you expectly* oi moth, whos dis oswald fella 'ou've been goin on about?

smiles sweetly very innocently well anon :) why dont you take a seat as i tell you about oswald the clwon. now if youd just follow me down into my post... just under this cut...

Ok so THIS is oswald the clown, when you first meet him.

"Mes who are those other guys" thats emma and noah and oswald just offiates their gay marriage+couple therapy. dont worry about it. actually wait i'll explain a bit about emmanoah, their thing is that they were Unhappy with their old lives+couldnt go back to the city and stuff really, so oswald helped them by letting them join his circus + made them into clowns + helped them with their couple issues (emmanoah are gay married)

Now see Oswald's deal is that he simply wants to make people happy! The world this game takes place in is super fucked up and like everyone is always depressed and so he wishes to bring joy to the city :) (in his words, "[he's] but a clown who wishes to rub lemons on everyone's tongue!") (another thing to note is that he talks silly lol. He says a lot of incomphrensible bullshit but u can get this gist of it .)

He's the ringleader to the 8 O'Clock circus! They are pretty cool they got silly guys. Like Elephant and Lion. And Mr Knife and Ms Mermaid. They are all friends and his (oswald's) friends ! We can talk a bit more about this later tho because.. with all this..

You may be now thinking "Wow mes this guy sure seems totally nice and perfectly ok ! Maybe a bit weird and offputting with the appearneces and all but other than that . But is he a villain? Im like 70% sure you said he's a villain" And to that he is, technically,! Since he . Technically. Works against the protagonists's goals. This isnt about them though. But a thing to note is that he is not... Really Actively Malicious. That part is a bit debatable.!

Introducing: Philip. He's the guy in the middle. Having a bit of a rough time.

See Philip lost the people he was close too (those people at the side) and feels devastated about it and so Oswald goes "ok awesome i will make u hallucinate to think they are here and saying things!" And those things are what Philip thinks they would say (which r bad things), even if they aren't true, all for the purpose of putting dear ol' Philip through emotional toil. "Hey mes ?" You might say. Yeah? I'd respond. "Mes that sounds like a super fucked up and evil and malicious thing to do. " You would probably then continue to say.

And yeah, it is ! But here's the thing: Oswald isn't doing this to actually hurt philip; He thinks this will help him. How?

See, Before Oswald does this, he says a bit about how philip is like him, but he just needs a bit more of a push to fully 'bloom' sorta . Coz see, Oswald is not human, he's what is called a Distortion, which is basically what happens when a person gets fuckd up and twisted and 'distorts' into sm monster thing. Oswald can tell that philip is on the verge of becoming like that, so he decides "arlightie i will help :)" . BECAUSE, Oswald explains how , before distorting, he had no real friends , only imaginary ones, (And this is all probably because no one could understand him so he ended up being super lonely and rejectedbecause no one could understand .. the fact .. he just wanted 2 make ppl happy.. ppl probably expected him to Be a certain way (this ties in to a thing he talks about waay later) , but he couldnt meet those expectations, and it was crushing to him, so now he's like Alrightie Expectations suck !! Have no expectations :)! ! Just smile and joy . :) ! ) , AND SO it was at this low moment when he ended up Distorting and his imaginary friends turned real also and he is Way Happier now. So , he thinks "aokie dokie philip :) ik it sucks now but then u will distort and then be happy yayyy !" and yeah.

He does later get dragged into this group of other distortions who band 2gether to go fight the protagonists over smthing but its like w/e then i would have to actually explain the story and stuff of library of ruina and i can't just make that all about oswald the clown so :/ wats da point (kidding im kidding lor has AWESOME in it plase play it or something.)

So TL;DR , Oswald is just a fun clown who wants to help people be happy and stuff . ! And he is so joyous and lively and he is everything in the world 2 me. ! He Is an Awesome ...! !! ya ..........!!!!! okie dats all ^_^ thanks for reading if u got this far

[alstanfordart]

Come Into My Lights

A Robert Gray origin story I wrote  a few months back. Has some fairly disturbing content in it, so read with caution.

At the start of Autumn, in the chilly, foggy early hours of the morning, the circus arrived to sleepy Derry. The colorful painted wooden wagons and elephants parading along Witcham Street drew the children of the town out of their homes to smile, gawk and laugh while still in their pajamas.

The performers clamored about the town, exploring, or posing for photographers as set-up began, including the biggest draw of all; the big top tent being erected by young laborers. Decked out in overalls with smudged cheeks, they traveled with the circus and during performances often did humdrum chores, such as tending to the animals and the handling of props the various performers used during their acts. The laborers, while not paid well, certainly ate well, with three hearty meals a day. The opportunity for travel was also desirable for many young men and women.

The wagons were sitting in a circle around Bailey Park, in the center is one emblazoned with 'Pennywise The Dancing Clown.'

Otherwise known as Robert Gray, formerly Gustafsson. He'd picked up his stage name while performing in London with an English clown George Rowley, known as 'Sad Jacques,' who uttered the saying, "Penny wise and pound foolish" in response to the lavish spending he'd witnessed while in the city. Robert found the saying delightful and adopted it as a stage name. Before, he simply was known as 'The Dancing Clown.'

Robert was born in Södermalm, the only son of Anna and Sven, both from familes of dancers, musicians and actors. His father had been known sinply as "The Sångare," and had moved the family to England upon landing work at King's Theater. His actress mother made regular appearances on the Royal Theatre stage.

The family's home life was often filled with drama that matched that depicted in his mother's plays; his father had at least three different mistresses, each having bore him a child. Robert had never acknowledged or spoke with any of them. His father was also a strict disciplinarian, often beating Robert mercilessly for something as trivial as not finishing all of his vegetables.

His father, who had a taste for the macabre, also spent a fair amount of time consuming magazines and books filled with horrifying tales of people being buried alive. As a result, this caused him to request that his teenage son promise to behead him upon death for fear of premature burial. When the time came, Robert did as asked and upon the death of his mother a few years later, set out on his own, mostly finding work in Italy, Denmark and Sweden.

It was in London where Robert met his charismatic wife Agnes, also known by her stage name Elvira, who was a trapeze artist famed throughout Europe as the "Daughter Of The Air." Her performances often took her up fifty to sixty feet from the ground, without using any net or other safety measures. The audiences adored her and she was often the subject of magazine news articles.

Born in Stockholm, she was of Danish ancestry and had come from a family of trapeze artists, 'The Flying Jensens' and had been performing since she was a toddler, with her father balancing her on his hand during his opening act.

Robert had been taken with her hourglass figure, and long light brown hair which was well past her waist. She'd been drawn to his height and striking eyes, the blue-green color reminding her of the sea. Even finding his slight buck teeth appealing. They had eloped when they were touring with the French circus director Didier Gautier in Cirque Du Nord

Their seven year old daughter Emma was a dark-haired morose child who was born in Austria while the couple were touring with Circus Renz.

When America came calling, they landed on Ellis Island and they promptly changed the family name from Gustafsson to the more easily pronounced Gray and eventually were hired by P.T Barnum upon hearing of the couple's fame throughout Europe.

America, however, wasn't all it was advertised to be, and Agnes and Robert were becoming increasingly weary with life on the road. Overworked and exhausted, at this point their young daughter was their priority and settling down was maybe what was best for her. A stable home. School. And, most of all, friends. The girl was isolated, and apart from a stuffed lion she called 'Fred' given to her by the lion tamer Isaac Van Der Berg, she had no real companions. She often spent long hours sitting in Agnes' wagon printed with 'The Legendary Elvira,' reading or playing marbles while the couple did their shows.

Derry seemed like the perfect place to settle down permanently. They had acquired enough savings to live comfortably.

Upon their exploration of the town, Robert, Agnes and Emma happened upon 29 Neibolt Street and a lovely two-story mansion, somewhat rundown-looking, encircled by patches of half-dead grass and sunflowers that looked like tiny suns sprouting around the yard. Upon talking with the locals they discover that the home is for sale and was owned by one of the wealthiest families in Derry, the Muellers.

In fact, according to the local residents, the place hadn't been lived in for many years. The last known occupants, the Vance family, had moved out around thirty years prior. There were whispers that the place was haunted-rumors both Robert and Agnes immediately dismissed.

But not so much Emma. Standing outside the wrought iron gates, she gawks up at the circular attic window at the very top, goosebumps breaking out along her skin. The window almost resembles the eye of a cyclops, watching her closely. She takes a step backwards.

"No, I don't want to go in here." she mumbles, dropping her head down, holding Fred tight to her plaid dress, prying her fingers from her mother's. The house had a strange atmosphere, like it would come alive and gobble her up if she set one foot inside.

Like some kind of monster from a fairytale.

"It's just a house, my love. Nothing to harm you," Agnes lovingly reassures. "Nothing to be afraid of."

Robert gives his daughter a gentle rub along her shoulders, removing his cigar from his lips to give her a comforting smile. "We're just going to have a look around, okay? Nothing to fear."

She's never lived in a house before. It's all a little foreign to her. She'll adjust.

But there's something about this house. Something drawing Robert to it. It certainly wasn't the most attractive and the work going into it would be time-consuming. But there was a charm about it. It had potential to be their dream home.

Robert leads his family in, with Emma returning her hand to her mother's protective grip. Once inside, they stand gazing about the living room, admiring the woodwork; the staircase and wooden beams, evidence of fine craftsmanship. The furniture was still here, as if the former owners had left in a hurry. The fireplace inlaid with 'Good Cheer, Good Friends,' and a piano sits beneath the window, sunrays coating along its white and black keys, the dust particles floating through the air twinkle in the warm light.

"The price they're asking for this place is a bargain, given how it includes the furniture and everything," Robert says as he approaches the stairwell. "Seems too good to be true."

"The furniture will have to be replaced. Look at it," Agnes runs a white gloved hand along the blanket of dust along the wooden frame of a parlor chair. "It's filthy! We can't possibly use it."

"No, just a little dirty. Just needs some sprucing up a bit. Just a little bit of love." Robert grins like a kid, his round cheeks turning up as he bounds up the stairwell.

Agnes follows, with Emma at her heels, clinging to her, her large brown irises searching along the walls, waiting to see if something emerges, or moves out of anywhere. A pair of massive hands with hairy fingers reaching out for her, like a troll from the Scandinavian folk tales the children back home told around a camp fire. The eerie sensation that this house was somehow alive was rustling within her. Every nook and cranny was just seeping with this discomfort.

Robert opens a door to a bedroom where two of the windows have been shattered.

No matter. Easily replaced.

Agnes enters behind him, leaving Emma out in the hall. As she stands, a whispered voice touches her eardrums.

Emma.

Startled, the girl spins around. That voice was neither male no female. That was not either of her parents calling her name. Although it seems like it was speaking to her through her mind. A cursory glance into the bedroom shows her parents are preoccupied with discussions of renovations.

Emma.

She stares down the hall towards the kitchen as the door opens ajar and just inside there's a miniature ball of light, doing a little dance mid-air. It looked no bigger than one of her marbles. It reminded her of the fairy stories her mother told her. Describing the little sprites as having an otherworldy glow.

It couldn't be though, could it?

Without hesitation she runs to the kitchen as it disappears behind the doorway. She stands watching, holding Fred tighter to her as the little glowing ball skips through the air to the open door of the basement, casting its luster along the darkness. As she steps closer, she feels a pull, a force, beckoning her further in. Like a pair of large invisible hands guiding her along by her shoulders.

She had to go down there.

As she enters, standing atop the steps leading down into the murkiness, she is met with a bone-chilling cold, the clammy decayed odor of the basement air meets her nostrils, causing her to cough. She charily begins to descend the stairwell, in direction of the light ball as it highlights each step, creaking loudly under her tiny feet as she reaches the bottom.

There, just a few feet from her, in a weak beam of sunlight from a nearby window, is an ancient stone well. The little ball of light hovering just above it, circling the opening. The well is partly destroyed, a rusted pulley dangles just above. With Fred still tight in her arms, she stares at it, almost mesmerized. Gradually, she starts to come closer. As she does, something moves just along the broken stones.

A pair of luminescent yellow-orange hands rise from within and cup the tiny light ball, followed by the head of a woman with her hair pinned back, her entire face illumined in that same bright color that resembled an amber gemstone. She rises up out of the well, still holding the tiny bead of light, wings sprouting out from her back. She lands on her feet with a dainty ballet-dancer like movement, wearing the same style of lace-up slippers and dress her mother wore when she performed.

Emma stares, her mouth agape.

A real fairy. An actual real-life fairy.

The fairy gestures for her to draw near. "Come." she says in a delicate feminine voice that sounds like an angel, or the most delicate porcelain bell chiming.

Emma heeds, inching closer, in utter awe of what she was seeing. The fairy sticks her hand out, wiggling her slender fingers. "Come with me, child."

Emma swallows, still feeling the embers of fear smoldering, although much of it had dampened. But a fluttery anxious feeling was still present. "Come where?" she inquires.

"Come and you'll float. I promise. Don't you want to have wings?" the fairy replies, turning her shoulders slightly to display hers. "Come and you will float too."

Emma is about to take her hand, when she sees the fairy's features up close. Her eyes are two empty black sockets. At this, Emma pulls back, an unnerving feeling starting to shiver through her.

"Um, that's okay. I-I think I need to go upstairs now," she says as she starts to back away, gaze not wavering from the strange sight. "I need to leave now."

The beaming visage the fairy was displaying now falters, her tiny mouth curling downwards into an exaggerated pout. "Now Emma, that's not very polite. Come and let me take you into my lights. You won't grow old there. You'll remain the same forever." she says grinning. Although friendly, there's enough hint of malice beneath it to cause Emma's fear to skyrocket, coupling it with a burst of panic.

No, this isn't normal. Fairies aren't real.

Then, out of the corner of her vision, she spots something moving beside the fairy, something black. Possibly a rat or a mouse

A closer inspection shows it is neither, but some sort of...thing.The closest she could describe it as is a shadow, only solid. It danced along the edge until another appeared. And another. And another. Until what looked like a writhing bundle of obsidian tentacles begin to rise up from the well. Followed by veins of orange light creeping up along the grooves of the stones, pulsing and flickering.

"Come Emma. Come into my lights." the fairy intones as ebony webs begins to snake out of her eyes, cocooning around her head and neck, slithering down her thin frame.

The pulley above the well begins to swing as the monstrosity starts to lift out and towards Emma, now taking on the appearance of thick inky tar, the fairy vanishing within. The powerful scent of raw sewage fills the musty air as the orange light brightens the well as if there were a fiery lava pit deep below, painting its smoldering gleam along the stones.

The hairy phantom tentacles start to crawl towards Emma, the fear now escalating, almost making her numb with fright. A scream is wedged in her throat, she works her jaw, trying to utter a sound of alarm, her nails digging into Fred's soft fur.

"Emma!"

Agnes' voice jolts the little girl out of her stupor and she shrieks, whirling around to dash up the stairs, the slimy tentacles nipping at her ankles. As she reaches the top, her mother appears in the doorway. Emma almost knocks her down as she wraps her arms around her waist.

"My goodness, what-" Agnes begins, patting her daughter's trembling back.

"Down there! There's something there!" she stammers, turning and jabbing her finger downwards.

Only there's nothing there. Nothing at all. No sign of the strange yellow-orange light, that menacing fairy, or the black tentacles. The pulley now immobile. The horrid smell of sewage replaced with the mildewy scent of the basement.

As if nothing had even been there at all.

"There was something there..." Emma breathes, tightening her small arms around her mother. Agnes glances in the direction of the well. The whole basement was going to take some serious work, something she may not be up for. But Robert's enthusiasm was contagious.

"There was something coming out...and I thought I saw-"

No I did see. There was a fairy, but you wouldn't believe that.

"It's alright dear. That young man was only joking, I'm sure. Those ghost stories are just make-believe. Not anything real."

They'd spoken to a local youth who had informed them it was "the haunted house" in earshot of Emma, and it clearly had influenced her into 'seeing' something.

"What's the matter?" Robert appears beside Agnes, gazing down at his shaken daughter. "What is it?"

"That." Agnes, still holding Emma to her arms, gestures at the well. Robert smirks.

"That won't be a problem," he says. "We can take care of that."

"Mhm." Agnes arches her brows as she peers down at the unsightly area. It seems like more trouble than it's worth. But if he is convinced they could do it...

"Come on, I want to go see the owners, see if we can get this going." he announces as he gently maneuvers his wife and daughter away from the basement door. He takes one last glimpse as he shuts it.

Inside, just above the opening of the well, three tiny orange lights appear, hovering in a circular motion.

After the trip to the Muellers, and despite the fact that the snooty family looked down on circus performers, the house on Neibolt was now officially the new Gray residence.

Robert, inspired by the architecture of the churches they'd seen throughout Europe, went out and immediately bought a pair of stained glass windows from a local artist, painted with bright scenes of the circus. Once installed, they filled the room with rays of yellow, orange, blue and turquoise.

This was to be Emma's room, but the perceptive child was still frightened. Frightened and perplexed. Why did nobody live here? Why did the Mueller family not reside here? What of the family that did live here before? Cleaned up, it made for a lovely home. So, why was it just sitting here unattended to? Her young mind could not make sense of the questions her parents seemed unconcerned with.

No doubt, it was connected to whatever that was in the basement.

Snuggling Fred, she stares at the newly-installed windows, the design almost resembling a pair of wicked eyes grinning at her. The image of that fairy comes on. She shudders as the sound of the fairy's voice still plays in her mind.

Come into my lights.

In their new bedroom, Agnes was laying out her mother's large old quilt along the bed, featuring a scene of men herding cattle, women fetching water from a stark blue river and boys building haystacks. At the foot of the bed sat a large cedar chest, inset with the initials R.G, where Robert kept his clown costume, made of fine off-white silk from Lyon, and his make-up supplies.

As he and Agnes prepare to perform, Robert, or rather Pennywise, stands looking at the full-length mirror. Adjusting the thick ruffle around his neck, he grins, his trademark red stripes thick along his cheeks, his lazy left eye slightly askew. As he stares, something rather curious happens. The kerosene lamp just behind him on the nightstand flickers, the tiny flame within breaking apart into three smaller flames, forming circles.

Seeing this odd movement in the reflection, Robert turns to look as the flame returns to normal. He approaches, taking the lamp in his large gloved hands, staring intently at the light as a small, barely-audible voice arises from its warmth.

Robert.

Dazed, he watches as the flame begins to break apart again, separating into the three tiny balls of orange-yellow as they begin to rotate. Robert's corneas begin to mirror their glow, the voice still speaking to him, whispering, before-

"Robert?"

Agnes is now beside him, her thin fingers caressing the puffy material of his shoulder.

"You okay?" she whispers, bringing her pink lips to his and planting a quick kiss.

"Fine," he replies as he places the kerosene lamp back down. "I'm fine."

Over the next few days, they perform a show in the afternoon and again at night, with Agnes doing her signature one-arm plange act, enthralling the audience who marveled at her grace and elegance. When the time came for Robert to do his dancing clown act, the children all squealed with delight as he did his gags, slapstick comedy and dance moves where he engaged the children in the front rows. Adopting a slight lisp as part of his performance, he coaxed one little girl from the front to stand before him as he presented her with a large silver dollar from behind her ear. The girl looks positively enchanted.

The show concludes with the two African elephants, Sylvia and Thump performing and the lions Ivan and Maurice, jumping through hoops of fire.

Afterwards, the children all gathered around Pennywise to ask for an autograph or a special trick just for them, usually with him presenting them with candy or a small toy. One girl in particular, a redheaded child with a round freckled face hangs behind the other children, waiting for them to clear away, before she approaches the clown.

"Those kids do love you. They just flock right to you, don't they mister?" she says, smiling, displaying a minor gap between her two front teeth. Robert gazes down and chuckles.

"Kids love clowns. They bring happiness and joy. As P.T says; 'clowns and elephants are the pegs on which the circus is hung.' Did you like the elephants?"

"Oh, I did, but the you were the best part. The children all loved you." the little girl replies, fingering one of her braids.

"Well thank you. Now if you excuse me, I got to get going. My little girl is waiting." Robert gives a little wave as he walks towards his wagon where Agnes is waiting with Emma, smiling back at the girl, who returns the wave enthusiastically.

Agnes wraps her arms around his neck as he reaches her. "You were fantastic as always...um... who were you talking to just now?" she queries as Emma steps out the door of the wagon, looking relieved to see her father.

Of course this meant they'd be going back to that house.

To Neibolt.

"That little redheaded girl, she really loved my performance. She just thought the elephants were okay," he grins proudly as he pulls Agnes in for an affectionate hug. "You know, I'm gonna miss this. The crowds."

Agnes simply smiles weakly as she peers over his shoulder, her brows knotting together as she studies the area where she'd seen him engaged in a conversation outside the tent exit all by himself with nobody there but a wooden barrel.

Over the next few days, Robert starts to undergo a drastic personality change. His normally cheery upbeat demeanor became more somber, his words curt. He was short with both Agnes and Emma. His eyes underlined by dark half crescents. While he performed, he still saw that little redheaded girl in the bleachers, smiling and cheering. But it was on the second to last night that the circus would be in town that he saw something that made his blood run like ice rivers through his veins, his heart palpitate.

Tucked away in the back of the bleachers, standing with the girl,was Sven. Looking as he did the last Robert saw him. The shock sends Robert tumbling from a large ball on which he was balancing. The crowd responds with a chorus of gasps as Robert stands and shouts a phrase in Swedish that was incomprehensible to the spectator's ears.

Later that night, Agnes is woken up by the sound of the piano, the same sharp note over and over again. Groggily running her hand along Robert's side of the bed, feeling nothing but the cold sheets. Heading downstairs, she sees him sitting at the piano, hunched over, his right index stabbing at one single key repeatedly. He flinches as her fingers come up to brush along his back.

"Another nightmare?" she quietly asks, moving to sit alongside him on the small bench, tucking her blue silk nightgown around her knees.

"I keep thinking of him. Since we've been here. He's been on my mind. I don't know why." he replies, still poking at the key. Agnes reaches and grabs his hand in hers. He keeps his face down, obscured from the light of the kerosene lamp that sits atop the piano.

"Your father's gone. He's not here-"

"But he is. I saw him. Saw him in the bleachers tonight."

"What? How could-"

"He was here, Aggy, I saw him. And when I woke up just now. He was standing in the corner of the room staring at me," Robert pauses, before continuing under his breath. "I know it was him. He didn't have a head."

A much more ghastly image of Sven had appeared in the far corner of the bedroom, gripping his head by the scalp, blood dripping from the bloody stump of his neck, grinning maniacally.

Agnes rests her forehead upon Robert's shoulder, wrapping her arm around to massage his shoulder blades. She'd grown accustomed to his past occasionally showing its ugly head, as disturbing as it was, but this was merely a phase.

He then violently shakes her arm off.

"Get your ass back to bed. Stop bothering me." he sneers.

She pauses and stumbles up, her visage mixed with both surprise and hurt, even though this attitude has been present since they'd arrived.

"Robert, please just let me-"

"Just leave me alone!" he shouts as he smashes his fists against the piano keys. Agnes continues to back away as Emma, woken by her parents voices, appears at the bottom of the stairs with Fred in her arms, nuzzling him against her cheek.

"Mommy?" she says as Agnes rushes to her, guiding her back up the stairs.

"Come on, get back to bed." Agnes orders as Emma glances over her shoulder at her father, who has resumed his one-note playing as the flame of the lamp takes on the form of three rotating spheres.

Near him, a thick black mass hovers along the wall.

The last night of the circus was their largest crowd yet, with it nearly doubled from the last few days, most likely people from out of town or drifters who'd received the free tickets they'd given out. Both the crew and the performers were relieved, as things had not been right the moment they'd come to this town. Technical difficulties, the people getting into arguments in the bleachers. The animals, especially the lions, seemed agitated, pacing back and forth in their cages. Isaac was doing everything her could to keep the beasts calm and collected. Not an easy task with the roaring sounds of a raucous crowd.

Agnes stood on her platform, nearing the roof of the tent, the last night she would do so. Then the house on Neibolt would be their permanent home. The circus life left behind. Certainly a positive thing given the bad turn Robert was taking. She gazes down at Robert as Pennywise. He put on his clown face and performed his act with the gags and humor, but privately, he was different. Some shadow had overtaken him. Something she knew wasn't quite right.

Something to do with this town. That she felt. The people, the atmosphere. It was...unsettling. For reasons she couldn't comprehend. Perhaps settling down here wasn't the right decision.

Inhaling a deep breath, Agnes swings down from the platform, about to perform her final act when a loud 'snap' echos throughout the tent as the swivel that was holding the rope shatters. The audience gasps and screams in alarm as Agnes plummets to the ground.

Robert runs to her lifeless body laying in the center of the ring, cradling her in his arms, touching her cheek, feeling her heartbeat slowing.

"No, no...why?" he whimpers, before he turns his head up at the ceiling. "Why did you do this?!" he cries as the Ringmaster Norman Claude and the laborers watching from the sidelines dash over to aid.

Just outside, Ivan and Maurice are pacing impatiently in their metal cages. An invisible force opens the latch of each, the two lions pouncing out as Isaac shouts, taken by surprise by their sudden escape. The two large cats attack him, tearing out his throat before turning their sights to the circus entrance, the chaotic sounds of the people drawing them in.

Nearby, a kerosene lamp atop a crate that a few laborers had been using tips over, the flame crawling towards the flap of the entrance.

Inside, the lions attack. Anyone and anything in their path. Tearing at clothing and flesh alike, the people screaming in confusion only fuels their bloodthirsty rampage. Outside in Agnes' wagon, Emma sits, hugging Fred to her as she sees through the small window the tent becoming engulfed in flames. The frantic spectators all knock each other down as they try to excape both the blaze and the lions.

Inside, Robert remains holding Agnes in his arms as the top of the tent starts to collapse as the fire engulfs it.

Emma stays sitting in the wagon, weeping as she hears the ensuing chaos, too frightened to move. Just as she decides to move to open the door, it bursts open, with her father standing before her.

Oddly calm.

"Daddy!" Emma runs into his arms, noting for one brief moment how cold his torso felt as she snakes her arms around him.

"Where's mommy?" Emma queries, tears cutting down her pink cheeks as she gazes up at her stone-faced father as he leads her away from the inferno, the lions now outside the burning tent, still attacking those that managed to escape from inside.

"Daddy, we can't leave mommy."

Robert halts, turning his head slowly to look down at his daughter. Emma stares back, eyes damp and red. There is a strange emptiness within his irises. She feels a chill travel along her spine as her heart drops to her stomach as they continue to stare at each other.

"Where's my daddy?" she asks in such a low intone that the words are barely even a whisper. She works her hand loose from his, still maintaining eye contact.

Robert only smiles calmly, derisively, his pupils taking on an orange glow that matches the fire burning against the night sky. His mouth then opens, revealing three tiny balls of orange light.

"Come into my lights, Emma."

Emma's eyes cloud over as her stuffed lion drops from her fingers.

It's only a few weeks later that the horror of the fire is forgotten. The death toll is said to be in the hundreds, however, the exact number is unknown.

Decades later, while reading about the great circus fire of 1881, Mike Hanlon comes across a black and white photo of a tall clown, standing before a wagon, painted along its sides is 'Pennywise The Dancing Clown.'

Beside him is a little brunette girl, holding a stuffed lion, a bright smile across her face.

[floor-of-inhumanities]

how are tomerry and emma + noah fairing?

"Tomerry... due to the nature of what happened to them within the WARP trains, they are... inseparable at the moment until we can figure out how to undo it all... For now at least, we are able to keep them as a sort of fusion of each other. In a way... they're like the abnormalities: heightened emotions causes their inhuman side to spring forth. Hence- they're only an assistant for book sorting, not collecting. We... already saw that when we were telling them what happened... they were horrified- we all were horrified..."

"As for Emma and Noah, their bodies seem to be irreversible. However, they don't seem to mind. They were a bit sad and even upset at their new role at the Library, but... I actually get along with them quite well. Noah's a bit of a grump, but I know he means well... as for Emma, he's so kind. They feel like older brother figures to me. Is that odd to say?"

"I feel bad for all of them due to the fact we can't really erase what was done to them... the most I can do is allow them to live on upon my floor and try to grant them as much peace as I can."

[pawlmtree]

i dont know what the paramilitary clown lions are but they fucking rip. gay on you funky little man

THEIR NAMES ARE EMMA AND NOAH THEY’RE FROM LIBRARY OF RUINA.. i made a slideshow about them and the circus https://twitter.com/maxpawb/status/1308284015263186944?s=20

[dweemeister]

A list of all films featured in 2020′s 31 Days of Oscar

This is the exhaustive list of all 327 short- and feature-length films featured during this year’s 31 Days of Oscar marathon (down from 388 in 2019, up from 296 in 2018). Every single film that was featured since January 29 was nominated for an Academy Award or won an Honorary Oscar. We started the marathon a few days early this year because of the earlier-than-usual timing of this year’s ceremony (which placed it at Day 12 of this year’s marathon). Thank goodness we’ll go back to usual in 2021 and 2022, where the former’s ceremony will be placed on Day 28 if I, by tradition, start the marathon on February 1, 2021.

Best Picture winners and the one (and only) winner for Unique and Artistic Production are in bold - okay the latter was not featured for this year’s marathon (but perhaps next time!). Asterisked (*) films are films I haven’t seen in their entirety as of the publishing of this post.

7th Heaven (1927)*

The Circus (1928)

The Divine Lady (1929)*

Disraeli (1929)*

The Love Parade (1929)*

All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)

Anna Christie (1930)*

The Divorcee (1930)*

The Green Goddess (1930)*

Raffles (1930)*

Five Star Final (1931)*

Little Caesar (1931)

The Sin of Madelon Claudet (1931)

Grand Hotel (1932)

One Hour with You (1932)*

Shanghai Express (1932)

Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933)

Little Women (1933)*

The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934)*

The Gay Divorcee (1934)

It Happened One Night (1934)

The Thin Man (1934)

Bride of Frankenstein (1935)

The Lives of a Bengal Lancer (1935)*

Mutiny on the Bounty (1935)

Naughty Marietta (1935)

Top Hat (1935)

Broadway Melody of 1936 (1936)*

Fury (1936)*

The Garden of Allah (1936)

The Great Ziegfeld (1936)

Swing Time (1936)

Camille (1937)*

Grand Illusion (1937, France)

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

Three Smart Girls (1937)*

Wee Willie Winkie (1937)*

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Dark Victory (1939)

Gone with the Wind (1939)

Gunga Din (1939)

Ninotchka (1939)

Wuthering Heights (1939)*

All This, and Heaven Too (1940)

The Grapes of Wrath (1940)

The Philadelphia Story (1940)

Pinocchio (1940)

Rebecca (1940)

A Wild Hare (1940 short)

Blossoms in the Dust (1941)*

The Devil and Daniel Webster (1941)*

Hold Back the Dawn (1941)*

Lady Be Good (1941)*

Meet John Doe (1941)

Sergeant York (1941)

Casablanca (1942)

Der Fuehrer’s Face (1942 short)

In Which We Serve (1942)*

Now, Voyager (1942)

Road to Morocco (1942)

Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942)

Cabin in the Sky (1943)

Destination Tokyo (1943)*

A Guy Named Joe (1943)*

This Land is Mine (1943)*

Marie Curie (1943)*

The North Star (1943)*

The Song of Bernadette (1943)

The Yankee Doodle Mouse (1943 short)

Double Indemnity (1944)

Gaslight (1944)

Going My Way (1944)

It Happened Tomorrow (1944)*

Laura (1944)

National Velvet (1944)

The Uninvited (1944)*

Brief Encounter (1945)

Caesar and Cleopatra (1945)*

Leave Her to Heaven (1945)*

Pride of the Marines (1945)*

The Southerner (1945)

They Were Expendable (1945)*

Vacation from Marriages (1945)*

Great Expectations (1946)*

The Green Years (1946)*

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)*

The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947)*

Black Narcissus (1947)

Crossfire (1947)

Gentleman’s Agreement (1947)

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947)

Green Dolphin Street (1947)*

T-Men (1947)*

The Red Shoes (1948)

Romance on the High Seas (1948)*

It’s a Great Feeling (1949)*

A Letter to Three Wives (1949)*

Little Women (1949)*

Mighty Joe Young (1949)*

Neptune’s Daughter (1949)*

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949)

The Third Man (1949)

All About Eve (1950)

La Ronde (1950, France)*

Ace in the Hole (1951)

An American in Paris (1951)

Quo Vadis (1951)

Royal Wedding (1951)

When Worlds Collide (1951)*

The Bad and the Beautiful (1952)

Le Plaisir (1952, France)*

Singin’ in the Rain (1952)

The Band Wagon (1953)

From Here to Eternity (1953)

Lili (1953)

Mogambo (1953)*

The Story of Three Loves (1953)*

La Strada (1954, Italy)

On the Waterfront (1954)

Seven Samurai (1954, Japan)

Bad Day at Black Rock (1955)

No Hunting (1955 short)*

Around the World in 80 Days (1956)

The Burmese Harp (1956, Japan)

Friendly Persuasion (1956)

Giant (1956)

Lust for Life (1956)

Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956)*

Written on the Wind (1956)*

Funny Face (1957)

Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957)

Tammy and the Bachelor (1957)*

12 Angry Men (1957)

Witness for the Prosecution (1957)

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958)

Gigi (1958)

Separate Tables (1958)*

Ben-Hur (1959)

North by Northwest (1959)

The Young Philadelphians (1959)*

The Alamo (1960)

The Entertainer (1960)*

Pepe (1960)*

Spartacus (1960)

Two Women (1960, Italy)*

Beep Prepared (1961 short)

Days of Wine and Roses (1962)

How the West Was Won (1962)

Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

Sweet Bird of Youth (1962)

The Caretakers (1963)*

Cheyenne Autumn (1964)

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)

That Man from Rio (1964, France)*

My Fair Lady (1964)

Doctor Zhivago (1965)

The Shop on Main Street (1965, Czechoslovakia)*

The Sound of Music (1965)

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1966)

A Man for All Seasons (1966)

The Professionals (1966)

Bonnie and Clyde (1967)

Cool Hand Luke (1967)

Far from the Madding Crowd (1967)*

The Graduate (1967)

The Jungle Book (1967)

The Producers (1967)

The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967, France)*

Funny Girl (1968)

Ice Station Zebra (1968)*

The Lion in Winter (1968)*

Planet of the Apes (1968)

True Grit (1969)

Z (1969, Algeria)

Dodes'ka-den (1970, Japan)

Woodstock (1970)

Carnal Knowledge (1971)*

The Emigrants (1971, Sweden)*

Cabaret (1972)

Cries and Whispers (1972, Sweden)

The Godfather (1972)

The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972)*

Travels with My Aunt (1972)*

Papillon (1973)

The Sting (1973)

The Four Musketeers (1974)*

The Godfather: Part II (1974)

Young Frankenstein (1974)

Dersu Uzala (1975, Soviet Union)

Dog Day Afternoon (1975)

Shampoo (1975)*

The Sunshine Boys (1975)*

Network (1976)

Taxi Driver (1976)

A Special Day (1977, Italy)*

Star Wars (1977)

Autumn Sonata (1978, Sweden)

Superman (1978)

The Swarm (1978)*

Kramer vs. Kramer (1979)

Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979)

Kagemusha (1980, Japan)

Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears (1980, Soviet Union)*

An American Werewolf in London (1981)*

Mephisto (1981, Hungary)*

Annie (1982)

An Officer and a Gentleman (1982)*

Victor/Victoria (1982)

Educating Rita (1983)*

Terms of Endearment (1983)

Dune (1984)*

A Passage to India (1984)*

Out of Africa (1985)

Ran (1985, Japan)

Witness (1985)*

Aliens (1986)

Luxo Jr. (1986 short)

Empire of the Sun (1987)

The Last Emperor (1987)

Bull Durham (1988)*

Mississippi Burning (1988)*

Dead Poets Society (1989)

Field of Dreams (1989)

Dances with Wolves (1990)

Ghost (1990)*

Boyz n the Hood (1991)*

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

Aladdin (1992)

Unforgiven (1992)

The Firm (1993)*

The Wrong Trousers (1993 short)*

Forrest Gump (1994)

Il Postino (1994, Italy)

Little Women (1994)*

Casino (1995)*

Toy Story (1995)

Emma (1996)*

Star Trek: First Contact (1996)

Life Is Beautiful (1997, Italy)

The Old Lady and the Pigeons (1997 short, France)*

Saving Private Ryan (1998)

The Insider (1999)

Toy Story 2 (1999)

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000, Taiwan)

Gladiator (2000)

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (2001)

A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)

The Crime of Padre Amaro (2002, Mexico)*

Treasure Planet (2002)

The Fog of War (2003)*

The Triplets of Belleville (2003, France)*

Howl’s Moving Castle (2004, Japan)

Walk the Line (2005)*

Babel (2006)*

The Departed (2006)

Letters from Iwo Jima (2006)

Atonement (2007)*

Ratatouille (2007)

The Hurt Locker (2008)

Kung Fu Panda (2008)

Waltz with Bashir (2008, Israel)

Precious (2009)*

The Secret of Kells (2009)

Inception (2010)

Toy Story 3 (2010)

A Separation (2011, Iran)

Amour (2012, Austria)

War Witch (2012, Canada)*

Omar (2013, Palestine)*

The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (2013, Japan)

12 Years a Slave (2013)

Timbuktu (2014, Mauritania)

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

Hidden Figures (2016)

Kubo and the Two Strings (2016)

Dear Basketball (2017 short)

Negative Space (2017 short)

The Shape of Water (2017)

BlacKkKlansman (2018)

Roma (2018, Mexico)

The nine nominees for Best Picture, including the winner, Parasite (2019, South Korea)

The fifteen nominees for the short film categories (2019)

Ad Astra (2019)

American Factory (2019)*

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (2019)

For Sama (2019)*

Honeyland (2019, North Macedonia)*

How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World (2019)

I Lost My Body (2019, France)

Judy (2019)

Klaus (2019)

Knives Out (2019)

The Lighthouse (2019)

Pain and Glory (2019, Spain)

Rocketman (2019)

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (2019)

Toy Story 4 (2019)

The Two Popes (2019)*

[lizartgurl]

I wish you would write a fic where Emma’s celebrates her first birthday at the manor

ANDI I LOVE THE NEW ICON IT’S MAGICAL

And this…this got way too long.

Mary and John Grayson were murdered on April 1, 2006. A little over a month later, on May fifteenth, Emma Mary Grasyon, her mother’s namesake, was supposed to celebrate her twelfth birthday in a place that was still strange, where the only family to celebrate with her was her little brother. Neither of them were in a mood for celebrating.

Emma woke up that morning with eight-year-old Richard snuggled against her, squeezing the life from his plush elephant, Zitka, named for their elephant friend from the Circus. She had been a “Welcome Home” gift from Mister Bruce, an attempt to make the vast and empty Wayne Manor feel more alive. 

Emma had lion of her own, named Simba. The circus had tigers, but not lions, so her little friend was named after the Lion King who also had to witness his father falling to his death. 

Emma tossed Simba across the room, he softly hit the door and fell to the floor as Alfred the Butler opened it.

“I assume Master Richard had another nightmare?” He asked quietly.

Emma nodded, slowly sitting up. Being called “master” or “miss” was still something she was getting used to.

“Then I will bring his uniform in here and make sure to keep the pancakes warm. I believe it would be best to let him sleep for now.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, and made her way over to the wide expanse of a vanity, brushing her back into a ponytail, just as she always did.

Alfred didn’t leave, dusting off Emma’s school uniform that had been pressed and set out on her desk chair the night before.

“Did you sleep quite well last night, Miss Emma?” He asked.

Emma snapped the elastic into place, “Just fine,” She assured him.

“If I may,” Alfred pulled a burgundy red ribbon from his pocket, carefully tying a bow around her ponytail.

“Happy Birthday, Miss Emma,” He gave the young girl a soft smile beneath his perfectly groomed mustache.

Emma made the effort to smile up at the old butler. “Thanks, Alfred.”

Thirty minutes later, Richard was running down the stairs, struggling to straighten out his school uniform as he sprinted to join Emma, Bruce, and little ‘Bella at the breakfast table.

“Morning, Champ,” Bruce said, not looking up from his paper. Emma noted that he was reading an article by Clark Kent, one of his friends, about the ridiculousness of the argument of “Batman versus Superman.”

“What’s he say?” Emma asked. Richard punctuated her question by piling tons of whipped cream onto his stack of pancakes, already drenched with syrup. Five-year-old Annabella watched Rick’s experiment of how high he could pile the cream before it fell over with wide brown eyes.

Mister Bruce grunted, “That Batman and Superman would work better together than fighting.”

Emma gave a “huh,” slowly chewing her strawberries and pancakes.

“I bet Superman would win.” She said, taking another bite. Bruce raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“No way!” Rick declared, already standing on his chair. “Batman has all those gadgets and stuff! And he’s smart! He’d find a way to stop Superman!”

“But why would they be fighting?” Annabella asked, forgoing the fork and eating her pancake with her bare hands. Alfred rushed forward with a damp cloth to stave off the syrup.

“That’s a good question, sweetheart,” Bruce leaned forward to kiss his daughter’s forehead, “But you are right, Richard, I bet Batman could take Superman down if he really had to.”

“Well,” Alfred interjected, “I happen to think that Superman could whip Batman’s tush if he so desired.”

Emma, Richard, and Annabella burst into laughter. As if Alfred’s accent weren’t already perfect, the way he said “tush” was still hilarious to a couple of kids.

“Okay, okay, I guess they probably wouldn’t be fighting in the first place,” Bruce stood up to help Alfred clear the dishes, “In fact, there’s been talk that they’re going to start a team with some of the other heroes.”

“Like Wonder Woman?” Emma gasped.

“And Flash?” Richard asked through a mouth of whipped cream.

“And the other heroes who helped them with that alien invasion a couple months ago. Now chew with your mouth closed, champ, and hurry up, we gotta get you two to school.

-

Middle School would have been absolute Tartarus for “charity project” Emma Grayson if it weren’t for Bette Kane, Bruce’s cousin and heir to her own fortune. Emma giggled as Bette stood up in the middle of social studies to give a five-minute rant about how the myth of Medusa was just a bunch of Greek men with their togas on too tight projecting all their fears onto a woman and how that was still evident in today’s society. The teacher was stone-faced for ten minutes while the class applauded her.

“Alfred told me it was your birthday, today, so I brought cupcakes!” Bette said at lunchtime. They were huddled in their own corner of the courtyard, no one was going to bother them here. There weren’t any candles allowed on school grounds, but Bette sang her the “happy birthday” rendition from Emperor’s New Groove, and Emma had another reason to laugh, though she regretted that the chocolate cupcakes Bette brought tasted nothing like Aunt Kayla’s birthday cakes.

Not even Rick had wished her a happy birthday, she sighed as the three Wayne children arrived home from school to an empty manor. Bella, still in kindergarten, ignored her homework in favor of the gardens, and since Rick was still in elementary school and summer break was fast approaching, he followed. Alfred went with them to supervise after making sure that Emma was content in the Manor’s library with a plate of milk and cookies. 

Emma soon abandoned her boring few assignments, scouring the shelves for anything interesting to read. Her eyes fell on a copy of “The Mask of Zorro,” novelization. It sounded only slightly more interesting than “Pride and Prejudice”, but it seemed that it didn’t want to come off the shelf. 

With a yank, she managed to pull the book forward, but not completely off the shelf. The floor beneath her feet shook, and that section of the shelf crawled forward, just enough that it could slide in front of another section.

Right behind the shelf was a cool, dark staircase, illuminated with tiny blue lights, curving down and out of sight.

She jumped back, unable to process this discovery, and a few minutes, the shelf returned to its proper position with a loud cranking noise.

She turned and ran from the library. 

Alfred was in the kitchen, patching Annabella’s knee, so Emma ran straight for Rick, lining up sticks and pebbles to create his own version of Gotham city.

“Richard! You gotta come see this, now!” It only took minimal dragging to get Rick all the way to the library, but a lot of cajoling to get him to stand right there and be patient while she found the right book. Then, he was the one dragging her down the stairs to see what was hidden at the bottom. Emma was the only one of them who noticed when the door shut behind them. With no apparent way out, she followed Rick to the bottom.

“Woah,” Rick gasped as the stairway opened up into a cavern. Stalactites still hung from the top, interspersed with small groups of annoyed, fluffy bats, but the stalagmites on the floor had been cleared for catwalks, computers, suits in display cases, a giant playing card, and a giant mechanical dinosaur, of all things.

“This is awesome!” Rick shouted to make his voice echo with the dripping water.

Emma had a sneaking suspicion that they shouldn’t be there, and tried to back up, only to run into a wall. But it wasn’t a wall. She turned, and it was Bruce, glaring down at the both of them, arms crossed over a giant, black, Batman symbol on his chest.

“You’re him,” she squeaked. 

“Batman!” Rick gasped. 

Bruce just sighed, “I didn’t think you would be home from school yet. Get back upstairs, both of you.”

“What? Why?” Rick whined.

“Because I’m Batman, and I said so.” Bruce growled.

Richard glared at Batman’s cape as he sashayed away, confident that was enough to make them obey.

“You can’t make me, you’re not my dad!” He ducked under Bruce’s arm and swung from one catwalk to the next, deftly balancing on the rails as he rain, taking shortcuts a grown man like Bruce couldn’t hope to achieve, even if he was Batman.

As out-of-place as she felt, Emma was curious, about the cave, and about her foster father being Batman. He had been there the night that her family died. Why didn’t he save them? Batman was supposed to be a detective, wasn’t he? So why didn’t he stop Mister Zucco? 

Inflamed by a sudden bout of anger, Emma leaped up onto the railing, copying Richard as she ran after Bruce. She landed on his cape for a moment, enough to distract him from grabbing Rick, and then leave him confused over which child to catch first. That gave her enough of a lead to make it to his giant computer.

Bruce caught Richard fairly quickly, a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder as he steered him to where his sister was waiting, but not quite hiding. He was a little ticked to find Emma sitting in his favorite chair- the only chair in his hideout, as a matter of fact- in front of the computer, eyes narrowed and arms folded tightly.

“You know where Zucco is,” She accused coldly, the GPS on display for all to see on the screen behind her.

Bruce couldn’t find an answer as Richard looked up to him, shocked and hurt.

“You were there that night,” Emma stood up, rigid and shaking, “You could have stopped him, and you didn’t. And now Mami, Tati, Aunt Kayla, and Jonny are dead, and Uncle Joseph is paralyzed for life.”

“You’re right,” Bruce admitted, which surprised both Graysons, “I could have stopped Zucco and his men, and I didn’t. I doubted that Zucco would do something so bold in plain sight, and it cost your family their lives.”

Emma’s eyes stung and Bruce released his grip on Richard and took her by the shoulders, kneeling in front of her. “That’s why I took you two in, because I know what it’s like to lose your family, and because I promised myself that I was going to stop Zucco from ever doing something like this again.

Richard sniffed loudly, and Emma wiped her own tears with the hem of her school jacket. “Let us help you,” She begged.

“No,” Bruce said with finality. He stood up, pulling Batman’s familiar cowl over his face. “You two stay here. I’ll take down Zucco and be back in time to tuck the two of you and Annabella into bed.”

Still, Emma and Richard persisted, following him down to the “Bat-Mobile, waiting on a rotating platform to shoot off in any direction at a moment’s notice. 

“You two can’t get involved with this,” Bruce insisted, “It’s too dangerous.”

“So was the acrobatics we did at Haly’s.” Emma huffed.

“No. Now get upstairs before I call Alfred,” the top of the Bat-mobile slammed shut, and shot off through the waterfall that concealed the cave’s entrance from the rest of Gotham.

Emma’s hands shook. She didn’t care if Bruce was really batman or Wonder Woman or whatever. Tony Zucco had killed her parents, and she wasn’t going to stand by and let him hurt anyone else, either.

“Emma,” Richard said quietly, “Do you know where Alfred put our old costumes?”

Emma knew her little brother was thinking what she was, and as she grinned at him, her eyes landed on a couple spare masks and sheets of kevlar, just big enough to be called a cape.

-

Batman caught Zucco and his men breaking into the Graysons belonging left in storage under Joseph Grayson’s name. When he woke up, he was strapped to a spinning target on the grounds previously occupied by Haly’s circus. You could still see some of the darkened dirt where the Graysons had fallen. Zucco was throwing knives at him with reckless abandon, while his men watched and laughed. 

“Look out, Batman!” Zucco cackled. Another knife flew through the air, aimed for his heart, but something knocked it to the ground. A dull batarang, one he’d left behind at the cave for Alfred to sharpen.

“Excellent shot, Miss Grayson,” Alfred’s voice manifested over his comms a moment later, as one of Zucco’s thugs had his feet yanked out from beneath him, and another was struck with a batarang to the shoulder.

“Alfred,” Bruce growled so that Zucco couldn’t heard over the sudden commotion.

“I’m afraid that they insisted, as you typically do,” Alfred quipped. “And I can’t very well quarantine all three children in the house at once.”

Bruce rolled his eyes as Emma Grayson, golden wings splayed across her red tunic top, eyes hidden behind a mask, and protected by a yellow skein of kevlar, sliced away the rope holding back his hands.

“Thank you,” He grunted, crouching to the ground. His belt had been stolen, but he grabbed a knife from the target board. With a flick of his wrist, it knocked the fedora clean off Zucco’s head.

Out of Batarangs, Richard and Emma each grabbed a couple knives that had nearly killed Batman to fend off the thugs that were now running at them.

Then Emma saw the gold dangling from Zucco’s pocket. Her mother’s necklace, a robin on a branch, made from solid gold. A Wedding present from John to Mary. She screamed with fury, using her knife to slice the hand Zucco was using to reach inside his coat for another knife. She went for his face next, but it was Batman who grabbed her wrist, blocking her from Zucco, who lay whimpering on the ground.

“He deserves it!” She spat, “He killed them!” 

Bruce kicked Zucco in the face with his heavy boots, down for the count as he gripped Emma’s arms tightly.

“It isn’t up to us to decide who lives and who dies. That’s how they think,” He nodded to Zucco, then to his men, who had been casually taken out by a few easy flips from junior acrobat Rick.

“Emma,” Bruce tried again when she refused to look him in the eyes. “Would your parents want you yo give in to your anger, to go down a path that’s very hard to return from, just for them?”

Lip trembling, Emma shook her head, and threw her arms around Bruce, sobbing. Rick joined them a moment later, also crying. 

They watched from a distance a few minutes later, as Commissioner Gordon arrived to arrest Zucco’s gang for murder, and thievery. Emma absently traced a heart in the dirt with her toe, holding Richard’s hand.

“I’m proud of you,” Bruce said as the police caravan drove away, “Both of you.”

He drew something from the pouch of his retrieved utility belt. “I believe that this belongs to you,” He held out Mary Grayson’s robin necklace to Emma, securing it around her neck.

“Happy Birthday, Emma.”

[mathewsmircocosm]

tagged by @crown-of-the-circus-king​

Rules: answer and tag other people

a. Age: I have spent 19 years on this fucking planet

b. Birthplace: California, US of A

c. Current time: 5:21 PM

d. Drink you last had: Red lid milk

e. Easiest person to talk to: Jaxon//Abbey

f. Favorite song: KALI MA BY NECK DEEP

g. Grossest memory: h. Horror movies yes or no? Definitely have gotten more into them the older I get!

i. In love? not yet

j. Jealous of people: no people are jealous of me ;)

k. (there was no k)

l. Love at first sight or should I walk by again? good love takes time

m. Middle name: Dax + Daniel 

n. Number of siblings? three younger half brothers

o. One wish: to end up with someone who loves me unconditionally, at the right time ofc

p. Person you last called? Emma T

q. Question you’re always asked? “are you actually bi?”

r. Reading anything right now? if comic books count then Marvel’s “Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur”

s. Song you last sang: This Feeling by The Chainsmokers

t. Time you woke up? 11 AM

u. Underwear color: black

v. Vacation destination: LA, SF, or London

w. When was the last time you really laughed? On Friday when I caused chaos at Chic Fil A with Emma A

x. Xrays? once when I hairline fractured my wrist and another time when I just sprained my wrist but thought I broke it

y. Your favorite food? sushi is the bomb and is also the name of my stuffed Eevee from Build a Bear

z. Zodiac sign? the prideful lion Leo

@houston-outlaws​ and @delfyi​

[stainedglassgardens]

Favourite films watched in 2020

In no particular order:

Katalin Varga (Peter Strickland, 2009) The Gleaners and I (Les Glaneurs et la glaneuse, Agnès Varda, 2000) Land of Silence and Darkness (Land des Schweigens und der Dunkelheit, Werner Herzog, 1971) Post Tenebras Lux (Carlos Reygadas, 2012) The Return (Возвращение, Andrey Zvyaginstev, 2003) The Grand Bizarre (Jodie Mack, 2018) Transnistra (Anna Eborn, 2019) Ghost Town Anthology (Répertoire des villes disparues, Denis Côté, 2019) The Petrified Forest (Archie Mayo, 1936) Viy (Вий, Georgiy Kropachyov & Konstantin Ershov, 1967)

Complete list of all 323 films watched in 2020 under the cut!

January

Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging (Gurinder Chadha, 2008) Blade (Steven Norrington, 1998) Who Among Us! (Abhishek Prasad and Rebecca Kahn, 2019) Brotherhood (Meryam Joobeur, 2018) Disctrict 9 (Neill Blomkamp, 2009) Hair Love (Matthew A. Cherry and Karen Rupert Toliver, 2019) Kitbull (Rosana Sullivan, 2019) Sister (妹妹, Siqi Song, 2019) Nuts! (Penny Lane, 2016) The Judge (Erika Cohn, 2017) The Ghosts of Sugar Land (Bassam Tariq, 2019) Amazonia (Dominic Hicks, 2018) Dearborn Ash (Hena Ashraf, 2018) Pineal (Jenny Rinta-Kanto, 2019) Headcleaner (Nick Scott, 2019) Rattlesnake (Zak Hilditch, 2019) The Neon Demon (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2016) Skin (Audrey Rosenberg, 2018) The Banishment (Изгнание, Andrey Zvyagintsev, 2007) F is for Friendship (Shaya Mulcahy, 2016) Paradise Hills (Alice Waddington, 2019) Road House (Rowdy Herrington, 1989) Hustlers (Lorene Scafaria, 2019) I Believe in Unicorns (Leah Meyerhoff, 2014) Ghost Train (Lee Cronin, 2014) Troop Zero (Bert & Bertie, 2019) For the Love of God (Pour l'Amour de Dieu, Micheline Lanctôt, 2011)

February

Sitting Next to Zoe (Ivana Lalović, 2013) Dark Places (Gilles Paquet-Brenner, 2015) Nocturnal Animals (Tom Ford, 2016) The Limey (Steven Soderbergh, 1999) Side Effects (Steven Soderbergh, 2013) Good Sam (Kate Melville, 2019) Anima (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2019) What Did Jack Do? (David Lynch, 2017) Fleur de tonnerre (Stéphanie Pillonca, 2016) Parasite (Bong Joon-ho, 2019) The Field Guide to Evil (Peter Strickland, Veronika Franz & Severin Fiala, Katrin Gebbe, Yannis Veslemes, Ashim Ahluwalia, Agnieszka Smoczynska, Can Evrenol, Calvin Reeder, 2018) Devil (John Eric Dowdle, 2010) 37 Seconds (Hikari, 2019) The Falling (Carol Morley, 2014) Grave of the Fireflies (火垂るの墓, Hotaru no Haka, Isao Takahata, 1988) Elena (Елена, Andrey Zvyagintsev, 2011) The Lighthouse (Robert Eggers, 2019) Baskin (Can Evrenol, 2015) In Fabric (Peter Strickland, 2018) Leviathan (Левиафан, Andrey Zvyagintsev, 2014) Suffragette (Sarah Gavron, 2015)

March

The East (Zal Batmanglij, 2013) Solaris (Солярис, Andrei Tarkovsky, 1972) Mamma Mia! (Phyllida Lloyd, 2008) There Will Be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007) Io (Jonathan Helpert, 2019) The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson (David France, 2017) A Bump Along the Way (Shelly Love, 2019) Color Out of Space (Richard Stanley, 2019) Divines (Houda Benyamina, 2016) Vanishing Waves (Kristina Buožytė, 2012) Mirror (Зеркало, Andrei Tarkovsky, 1975) Zama (Lucrecia Martel, 2017) Swallow (Carlo Mirabella-Davis, 2019) Joy (Sudabeh Mortezai, 2018) Good Time (Josh and Benny Safdie, 2017) Quarantine (John Eric Dowdle, 2008) The Reflecting Skin (Philip Ridley, 1990) Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (Martin McDonagh, 2017) Leto (Лето,  Kirill Serebrennikov, 2018) The 39 Steps (Alfred Hitchcock, 1935)

April

Queen of Earth (Alex Ross Perry, 2015) Black Christmas (Sophia Takal, 2019) Dogs of Chernobyl (Léa Camilleri & Hugo Chesnel, 2020) Firecrackers (Jasmin Mozaffari, 2018) Les Misérables (Ladj Ly, 2019) The Evil Dead (Sam Raimi, 1981) The Daughters of Fire (Las hijas del fuego, Albertina Carri, 2018) The Fallen Idol (Carol Reed, 1948) The Wailing (곡성, Gokseong, Na Hong-jin, 2016) Inherent Vice (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2014) Sorrowful Shadow (Guy Maddin, 2004) Mistery Lonely (Harmony Korine, 2007) The Grand Bizarre (Jodie Mack, 2018) Zombieland: Double Tap (Ruben Fleischer, 2019) Waves '98 (Ely Dagher, 2015) Uncut Gems (Josh and Benny Safdie, 2019) The Last Séance (Laura Kulik, 2018) Too Late to Die Young (Tarde para morir joven, Dominga Sotomayor Castillo, 2018) Room (Lenny Abrahamson, 2015) Queen & Slim (Melina Matsoukas, 2019) The Holy Mountain (La montaña sagrada, Alejandro Jodorowsky, 1973) The Chaser ( 추격자, Chugyeokja, Na Hong-jin, 2008) Made in Dagenham (Nigel Cole, 2010) The Color of Pomegranates (Նռան գույնը, Nřan guynə, Sergei Parajanov, 1969) Lost Girls (Liz Garbus, 2020) Ghost Town Anthology (Répertoire des villes disparues, Denis Côté, 2019) And Then There Were None (René Clair, 1945) Doctor Sleep (Mike Flanagan, 2019) Meshes of the Afternoon (Maya Deren and Alexander Hammid, 1943) Circus of Books (Rachel Mason, 2019) Catfish (Henry Joost and Ariel Schulman, 2010) Wildling (Fritz Böhm, 2018) Delphine (Chloé Robichaud, 2019) The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (Lewis Milestone, 1946) The Red Balloon (Le Ballon rouge, Albert Lamorisse, 1956) Nona. If They Soak Me, I’ll Burn Them (Nona. Si me mojan, yo los quemo, Camila José Donoso, 2019) The Lodge (Veronika Franz & Severin Fiala, 2019) Invisible Man (Leigh Whannell, 2020) Sans Soleil (Chris Marker, 1983)

May

A Russian Youth (Мальчик русский, Alexander Zolotukhin, 2019) Sicario (Denis Villeneuve, 2015) Fedora (Billy Wilder, 1978) LoveTrue (Alma Har'el, 2016) The Platform (Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia, 2019) Water Lilies (Naissance des pieuvres, Céline Sciamma, 2007) The Assistant (Kitty Green, 2019) The Half of It (Alice Wu, 2020) Tomboy (Céline Sciamma, 2011) The Last Man on Earth (Ubaldo Ragona and Sidney Salkow, 1964) Beanpole (Дылда, Kantemir Balagov, 2019) Mommy (Xavier Dolan, 2014) The Fall (Jonathan Glazer, 2020) Girlhood (Bande de filles, Céline Sciamma, 2014) Carnival of Souls (Herk Harvey, 1962) Marguerite & Julien (Valérie Donzelli, 2015) Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Portrait de la jeune fille en feu, Céline Sciamma, 2019) This Magnificent Cake! (Ce Magnifique Gâteau!, Emma De Swaef & Marc James Roels, 2018) Romantic Comedy (Elizabeth Sankey, 2019) Transnistra (Anna Eborn, 2019) Eraserhhead (David Lynch, 1977) The Farewell (Lulu Wang, 2019) Emma. (Autumn de Wilde, 2020) Late Night (Nisha Ganatra, 2019) Charlie's Angels (Elizabeth Banks, 2019) Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (Cathy Yan, 2020) The Ancestors Came (Cecile Emeke, 2017) Suicide by Sunlight (Nikyatu Jusu, 2019) Anthropocene: The Human Epoch (Edward Burtynsky, Jennifer Baichwal, Nicholas de Pencier, 2018) A Perfect 14 (Giovanna Morales Vargas, 2018) Westwood: Punk, Icon, Activist (Lorna Tucker, 2018) Free Radicals (Len Lye, 1958) Aniara (Pella Kågerman and Hugo Lilja, 2018) Vivarium (Lorcan Finnegan, 2019) La Pointe-Courte (Agnès Varda, 1955) Diary of a Pregnant Woman (L'Opéra-Mouffe, Agnès Varda, 1958) Salut les Cubains (Agnès Varda, 1964) Uncle Yanco (Oncle Yanco, Agnès Varda, 1967) GUO4 (Peter Strickland, 2019) Atlantiques (Mati Diop, 2009) Sitara: Let Girls Dream (Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy, 2019) Lions Love (Lions Love... And Lies, Agnès Varda, 1969) Živan Makes a Punk Festival (Živan pravi pank festival, Ognjen Glavonić, 2014) Plastic and Glass (Tessa Joosse, 2009) The So-Called Caryatids (Les Dites Cariatides, Agnès Varda, 1984) The Octopus (La Pieuvre, Jean Painlevé, 1928) Hyas and Stenorhynchus (Hyas et sténorinques, crustacés marins, Jean Painlevé, 1929) Sea Urchins (Les Oursins, Jean Painlevé, 1929) Bernard-L'Hermite (Bernard-l'Ermite, Jean Painlevé, 1930) The Sea Horse (L'Hippocampe ou "cheval marin", Jean Painlevé, 1934) Voyage to the Sky (Voyage dans le ciel, Jean Painlevé, 1937) Le Vampire (Jean Painlevé, 1945) Freshwater Assassins (Assassins d'eau douce, Jean Painlevé, 1947) How Some Jellyfish Are Born (Comment naissent des méduses, Jean Painlevé and Geneviève Hamon, 1960) Shrimp Stories (Histoires de crevettes, Jean Painlevé and Geneviève Hamon, 1964) The Love Life of the Octopus (Les Amours de la pieuvre, Jean Painlevé and Geneviève Hamon, 1965) Acera, or The Witches' Dance (Acera, ou le Bal des Sorcières, Jean Painlevé and Geneviève Hamon, 1972) Pigeons of the Square (Les Pigeons du square, Jean Painlevé, 1982) The Slumber Party Massacre (Amy Holden Jones, 1982) Jane B. par Agnès V. (Agnès Varda, 1988) The Cranes Are Flying (Летят журавли, Mikhail Kalatozov, 1957) Crystal Swan (Хрусталь, Darya Zhuk, 2018) Take Me Somewhere Nice (Ena Sendijarević, 2019) Microhabitat ( 소공녀, Jeon Go-woon, 2017) The Unforeseen (Laura Dunn, 2007)

June

Funny Games (Michael Haneke, 1997) Louise Bourgeois: The Spider, the Mistress and the Tangerine (Marion Cajori and Amei Wallach, 2008) Wodaabe: Herdsmen of the Sun (Werner Herzog, 1989) Bells from the Deep: Faith and Superstition in Russia (Glocken aus der Tiefe - Glaube und Aberglaube in Russland, Werner Herzog, 1993) We Are the Best! (Vi är bäst!, Lukas Moodysson, 2013) Olla (Ariane Labed, 2019) Return to Reason (Le Retour à la raison, Man Ray, 1923) Ghosts Before Breakfast (Vormittagsspuk, Hans Richter, 1928) Sissy Boy Slap Party (Guy Maddin, 2004) The Republic of Enchanters (La République des enchanteurs, Fanny Liatard and Jérémy Trouilh, 2016) Sullivan's Banks (Sullivans Banken, Heinz Emigholz, 2000) Black Panthers (Agnès Varda, 1970) Asparagus (Suzan Pitt, 1979) America (Valérie Massadian, 2013) The Fall (Tarsem Singh, 2006) The Watermelon Woman (Cheryl Dunye, 1996) Douce Menace (Ludovic Habas, Yoan Sender, Margaux Vaxelaire, Mickaël Krebs, Florent Rousseau, 2011) Curling (Denis Côté, 2010) Trouble Every Day (Claire Denis, 2001) The Return (Возвращение, Andrey Zvyaginstev, 2003) Maillart's Bridges (Maillarts Brücken, Heinz Emigholz, 2000) Two Years at Sea (Ben Rivers, 2011) The Creeping Garden (Tim Grabham and Jasper Sharp, 2014) Homo Sapiens (Nikolaus Geyrhalter, 2016) A Radiant Life (Une Vie radieuse, Meryll Hardt, 2013) Shirley (Josephine Decker, 2020) Disclosure (Sam Feder, 2020) Baghead (Mark Duplass and Jay Duplass, 2008) Lahemaa (Leslie Lagier, 2010) Closeness (Теснота, Kantemir Balagov, 2017) Touki Bouki (Djibril Diop Mambéty, 1973) Daughter (Dcera, Daria Kashcheeva, 2019) Human Nature (Sverre Fredriksen, 2019) 1 Dimension (一维, Lü Yue, 2013)

July

Post Tenebras Lux (Carlos Reygadas, 2012) Something to Remember (Något Att Minnas, Niki Lindroth Von Bahr, 2019) Gegenüber (Ewa Wikiel, 2019) The Claudia Kishi Club (Sue Ding, 2020) Villa Empain (Katharina Kastner, 2019) Fata Morgana (Werner Herzog, 1971) Some Like It Hot (Billy Wilder,1959) Breakwater (Quebramar, Cris Lyra, 2019) Y a-t-il une vierge encore vivante? (Bertrand Mandico, 2015) Virus Tropical (Santiago Caicedo, 2017) The Tribe (Племя, Miroslav Slaboshpitsky, 2014) Integration Report 1 (Madeline Anderson, 1960) Tribute to Malcolm X (Madeline Anderson, 1967)

August

The Stopover (Voir du pays, Delphine and Muriel Coulin, 2016) Our Time (Nuestro Tiempo, Carlos Reygadas, 2018) Never Rarely Sometimes Always (Eliza Hittman, 2020) Land of Silence and Darkness (Land des Schweigens und der Dunkelheit, Werner Herzog, 1971) Continental, a Film Without Guns (Continental, un film sans fusil, Stéphane Lafleur, 2007) Spaceship Earth (Matt Wolf, 2020) The Go-Go's (Alison Ellwood, 2020) First Cow (Kelly Reichardt, 2019) Light of My Life (Casey Affleck, 2019) Wadjda (Haifaa al-Mansour, 2012) Spinster (Andrea Dorfman, 2020) Love and Anarchy (Film d'amore e d'anarchia, ovvero: stamattina alle 10, in via dei Fiori, nella nota casa di tolleranza..., Lina Wertmüller, 1973) Shapito Show (Шапито шоу, Sergey Loban, 2011) Charade (Stanley Donen, 1693) Cat People (Jacques Tourneur, 1942) Radioactive (Marjane Satrapi, 2019) Tabloid (Errol Morris, 2010) The Mourning Forest ( 殯の森, Mogari No Mori, Naomi Kawase, 2007) Lilya 4-ever (Lilja 4-ever, Lukas Moodysson, 2002)

September

The Nightingale (Jennifer Kent, 2018) Babyteeth (Shannon Murphy, 2019) Let the Corpses Tan (Laissez bronzer les cadavres, Hélène Cattet & Bruno Forzani, 2017) Wings of Desire (Der Himmel über Berlin, Wim Wenders, 1987) In My Room (Mati Diop, 2020) Katalin Varga (Peter Strickland, 2009) Les 3 Boutons (Agnès Varda, 2015) Somebody (Miranda July, 2014) Öndög (Wang Quan'an, 2019) Strasbourg 1518 (Jonathan Glazer, 2020) Mermaid (Русалка, Anna Melikyan, 2007) The Lighthouse (Маяк, Maria Saakyan, 2006) Phenomena (Dario Argento, 1985) That One Day (Crystal Moselle, 2016) Brigitte (Lynne Ramsay, 2019) The Wedding Singer's Daughter (Haifaa al-Mansour, 2018) Shako Mako (Hailey Gates, 2019) Carmen (Chloë Sevigny, 2017) The Summer of Sangailė (Sangailės Vasara, Alanté Kavaïté, 2015) Hello Apartment (Dakota Fanning, 2018) Seed (Naomi Kawase, 2016) Beyond the Visible: Hilma af Klint (Halina Dyrschka, 2019) Matthias & Maxime (Xavier Dolan, 2019) The Gleaners and I (Les Glaneurs et la glaneuse, Agnès Varda, 2000)

October

American Murder (Jenny Popplewell, 2020) Hereditary (Ari Aster, 2018) Ghostland (Pascal Laugier, 2018) Triangle (Christopher Smith, 2009) The Amityville Horror (Stuart Rosenberg, 1979) The Visit (M. Night Shyamalan, 2015) The House of the Devil (Ti West, 2009) Misery (Rob Reiner, 1990) The Exorcist (William Friedkin, 1973) Coherence (James Ward Byrkit, 2013) Metamorphosis (변신, Kim Hong-sun, 2019) Errementari (Paul Urkijo Alijo, 2017) I Am a Ghost (H.P. Mendoza,2012) The Changeling (Peter Medak, 1980) Witching and Bitching (Las Brujas de Zugarramurdi, Álex de la Iglesia, 2013) Thirst (박쥐, Park Chan-wook, 2009) V/H/S ( Adam Wingard, David Bruckner, Ti West, Glenn McQuaid, Joe Swanberg, Radio Silence, 2012) The Autopsy of Jane Doe (André Øvredal, 2016) Overlord (Julius Avery, 2018) Häxan (Benjamin Christensen, 1922) Viy (Вий, Georgiy Kropachyov & Konstantin Ershov, 1967) Amulet (Romola Garai, 2020) A Bucket of Blood (Roger Corman, 1959) The Wasp Woman (Roger Corman, 1959) Mother! (Darren Aronofsky, 2017) Suspiria (Dario Argento, 1977) The Open House (Matt Angel, Suzanne Coote, 2018)

November

The Damned Don't Cry (Vincent Sherman, 1950) Notorious (Alfred Hitchcock, 1946) While the City Sleeps (Fritz Lang, 1956) The Man Who Wasn't There (Joel Coen, 2001) The Naked City (Jules Dassin, 1948) The Petrified Forest (Archie Mayo, 1936) Croupier (Mike Hodges, 1998) In a Lonely Place (Nicholas Ray, 1950) Elevator to the Gallows (Ascenseur pour l'échafaud, Louis Malle, 1958) Key Largo (John Huston, 1948) Dial M for Murder (Alfred Hitchcock, 1954) The Long Farewell (Долгие проводы, Kira Muratova, 1971) The Killers (Robert Siodmak, 1946) Gun Crazy (Joseph H. Lewis, 1950) Alphaville (Jean-Luc Godard, 1965) Laura (Otto Preminger, 1944) The Third Man (Carol Reed, 1949) Dark City (Alex Proyas, 1998) Night and the City (Jules Dassin, 1950) Ace in the Hole (Billy Wilder, 1951)

December

Nimic (Yorgos Lanthimos, 2020) Elsa la rose (Agnès Varda, 1966) Le Bonheur (Agnès Varda, 1965) Little Girl (Petite Fille, Sébastien Lifshitz, 2020) Cold Meridian (Peter Strickland, 2020) The Fiancés of the Bridge Mac Donald (Les Fiancés du Pont Mac Donald ou (Méfiez-vous des Lunettes Noires)) (Agnès Varda, 1961) Along the Coast (Du côté de la côte, Agnès Varda, 1958) Vic + Flo Saw a Bear (Vic + Flo ont vu un ours, Denis Côté, 2013) Zootopia (Byron Howard, Rich Moore, 2016) It's a Wonderful Life (Frank Capra, 1946) Paddington (Paul King, 2014) Miracle on 34th Street (George Seaton, 1947) High Life (Claire Denis, 2018) Paddington 2 (Paul King, 2017)

[ask-idv-headcarver]

"Dear Journal it's 6/xx/xxxx,

Today was interesting, I was in invited to match up in thing called duos?? Miss.Woods explained what it is and go for it. It was me; Mike, Norton,Demi,Emily,Emil, Ada and lastly Miss.Woods. We all don't know who our hunters going to be until Nightmare pull me off the side that said I can't use my ability so I will be empty handed. Which I understand that I'm a rescue person but it's reasonable for the manor. So I re join the group. Match was set in Moon lit park-."

(Outside if his journal now)

Xiao is near the carsal, he look at the carsal in awe cause he never seen one before. He quickly hop on it even one hand is hard to get on but he is on it. At least he having some fun. Norton ran over to see Xiao having fun on the carsal.

"Xiao come on, let's go decode we are not supposed be on thing unless we have to use it for kitting." Shouted Norton who isn't on the fun ride.

"Alright, let me get off." Xiao gets off the ride with little help with Norton. "Wow there Mr.Cambell that was fun I never been on ride like that before. Have you there Mr.Cambell?" He ask him before sound of mirror comes near them.

"Xiao run." Norton use his magnet on Xiao pushing him back words back to the carsal. So Xiao heads to the tent. While Norton kites Marry. As his arrival to the tent he saw a cage it might have something. So he looks back to see if he is followed. He came around the corner to see a lion, 'so this what Margie ment she takes care of a lion at circus.' He thought to himself. He came closer to see the poor thing is the cage. He looking at the lion respectfully not get hit from it. The lion wake up from its nap to see Xiao as lunch so it trys to hit Xiao. He backs away so yeah this lion isn't friendly he thought to himself. So Xiao went in the tent to see Emil and Ada decode, Xiao walks in to see if they need help. Also probably it's good time to introduce him.

"Emil, Ada do you guys needed any help decode?" He came closer yet Emil hid behind Ada, she look at Xiao.

"Oh you the new guy right? Yes we need help. Emil, darling you can come out he isn't bad." This were Emil comes out from behind Ada. Eventhough yes Xiao is taller then both of them, properly Emil thought he was Wu? Who knows.

"Okay sure, let me be on your left side there Ada." Xiao started immediately decode. For little awhile the cipher finally pop as same four others. While they heading over to the other cipher machine Xiao got introduced himself to Ada and Emil. He have to noted that Emil didn't like getting spooked during a match just from Xiao's height scents he is one of the taller survivors out there next to Genji and Andrew. Xiao told both Ada and Emil that he going to use the phone to order two items that might help him for this match. When he got to over to another cphier with Ada and Emil once more the sound of the mirror pops up near them so they scattered. He ran into the main building to see Emma going to the first chair.

"No let me go, Dad!" Emma shouted, she is right it was Leo. Xiao pop his head to see this unravel, the chair now has spikes around Emma. So Xiao walk over eventhough he knows Leo going to try kills him.

"Mr.Zhong! Hi...Sorry I got chaired." Leo turns his head to see this tall asian man.

"Oh..It's the new guys. Do you want me explain about the spicks?" He questioned to Xiao, he nodded in agreement.

"Well you see, in Duos that if someone is chaired these spikes will pop up when someone is on there first chair and it has a timer. You see. It's been hand made by Joker, the spikes and the chair. Understand boy." Leo put in rude tone of his voice. Making Xiao nod in understanding. Then Leo place a hand on Xiao's shoulder, to give a stare at Xiao.

"You need start running boy." Leo rasie his shark toy in the air made Xiao dodge it then ran the other way.

"Sorry Miss.Woods!!" As Xiao ran outside of the building heading towards the coaster. As he ran up to see Demi and Mike getting ready to get on the coaster.

(Now in his journal)

As I was running towards to Demi and Mike they both hop in the coaster. Making our get away on the hole otherside of the map. It's was so amazing. Yet I keep forgetting this was a match but the sound alarm for the gates to open. Most of us gotten out is 5 out of 8 of survivors. Overall I kinda wish to ask one of hunters and probably visit this place again. It's probably going to be who was it again? Joker the hunter? To see if he allowed me to vist this place again who knows.

This end of my journal entry.

P.S - I really did have fun on the carsal that's probably be my favorite part of the place."