#Miss Magician is now called MADAME…

[ayasenisan1713]

Lumian: Madam Magician, how much information can I reveal about the Tarot Club?

Madam Magician: Why?

Lumian: The Iron and Blood Cross Order just asked me to infiltrate the Tarot Club, so I was wondering.

Madam Magician: *speechless*

[dyinggirldied]

LP!Jennette as Marie Antoinette

This one is just a musing while cooking, but imagine how the Lovely Princess might went in another direction. Here, this is after Athy’s execution and I imagine Jennette and Kiel (his name is too long) were 19, for Jen and probably 25 for Kiel. They had married. The empire celebrated. All was good, until Claude’s black magic karma eventually hit him and after weeks of dragging, he passed away.

Jennette was crowned Empress, and Kiel her Consort. Things began to change. Roger and countess Rosa overlooked most of the matters, pulling strings. I thought Jennette might still be raised innocent and demure so she left most of the matters for those two since to her, they were somewhat family and she trusted them. Too bad for Jennette, those two' greed grew exceed and they did a lot of immoral things, the most unforgivable: raising the common people's taxes.

Jennette's reputation took a hit, with the commoners began to grow irritated towards her, even though the faults lied in her aunt and father-in-law. Kiel, lost in his sorrowful infatuation with Athy, and still stucked in the following-my-father's command-mindset, didn't stop his father and aunt-in-law. Jennette was none the wiser, and she spent her times with her ladies in waiting (all actually followed countess Rosa's orders, of course). I also imagined those ladies to always to use Jennette's innocence and kindness to ask her for stuffs, like expensive diamond necklace for my cousin whose mother just passed away and etc.

Years passed, and Jennette spent her times organizing and drinking tea at parties with other ladies and did the basic empire paperwork allowed by her "family". Outside, the commoners grew more and more wrathful towards the one they had initially gifted the moniker "Lovely Princess". Just like Marie Antoinette, who was initially welcomed and beloved by the French, she was eventually villainized and hated, with rumors going wild and wilder till no one could separate fact and fiction.

The commoners spread rumors about how the now despised Empress was a woman who cared naught but for the most luxurious jewelry and spent millions of gold coins on extravagant tea parties and dresses. The Emperor Claude was a cruel, ruthless and murderous man but he at least did his work, never raised the taxes so unreasonably high and he could intimidate his enemies.

By the time Jennette and Kiel realized this, it had been too late. Revolutions arrived, with fire and calls for the death of those higher-ups. The commoners and even magicians far outweigh the nobles and soldiers in number, and the victor was clear. Some nobles managed to escaped to another country but some didn't, duke Roger and countess Rosalia among them. Those two had been the first to meet their fates beneath the merciless Madame Guillotine and under the cheering and jeering of the crowd. Next came Ijekiel. Then, the former empress Jennette.  

Jennette, after days in prison and waiting for her execution, had bitterly and regretfully wondered if this had been how Athy felt, during those seconds before and during her execution. Still, Jennette's heart missed her dearest sister, even after all these years and she hoped, with false optimist, that if she could see Athy again, she really wanted to hug her and apologize.

She lied her head on the guillotine, the yells and shouts of the people who had come to watch grew louder and louder, and thought Fairy tales never tell you about this.

[xhisokas-harleyx]

okay but imagine hisoka and fem!reader going for an undercover mission, in a ball (well this gives me an excuse for hisoka in a suit with his hair down looking kinda normal yk aaaaa) and he and reader are waltzing across the ballroom, with the mutual pining, the flirting back and forth, constantly one upping each other without making it too crudely sexual while maintaining eye contact no matter what (bonus points if reader doesnt get flustered outwardly) <333

I’m sorry this took so long! Vacation and a few other things happened. I took a little creative liberty with this one I think... Hope you enjoy! 😊

Part 2 is out, link at the bottom :)

I’m getting to the other requests soon!

Song Inspiration: Fire on Fire; Sam Smith

Word Count: 2700

Hisoka x Fem Reader: Fire x Fire

You sigh as you look up at the clock that acts as a guardian for the entry hall you are sitting in. As of now, you’ve been waiting for Hisoka to enter the room for about 45 minutes. You have finished your hair, your makeup, and dressed accordingly, which took a decent amount of time- however, your male counterpart for the evening is still not ready.

“Hisoka… how much longer?!” You call to the upstairs bathroom, and you sigh melodramatically. You’d have thought he was ditching you if it wasn’t in fact a mission that HE himself had invited you to. “We’re going to be late, and that will attract attention!” You groan.

“Speaking of attracting attention…” A smooth, low voice coos from behind you, and you jolt up from your seat on the bottom of the stairs and wheel around. “…You call that undercover?” He says, as his tongue flashes across his bottom lip, a sinful gaze in his golden irises.

~Because I, for one, can’t keep my eyes off of you.~ He refrains from saying that last part.

There Hisoka stands, with a raised eyebrow, admiring you with a smirk as he plays with one of his cufflinks. His pink hair is down, covering his eyes only slightly, but not enough that you can’t see the hungry look in his golden irises. He doesn’t have any makeup on, and he is wearing a clean white suit with a tie and napkin that matches the color of your dress.

Quickly, you close your mouth, fighting to regain your composure and not allow him to see your reaction to his appearance. This mission was going to be hard enough without him distracting you throughout…

Little do you know, Hisoka is currently appraising your appearance as he strolls slowly down the stairs. Your sleek (f/c) dress hugs your curves perfectly, covered in sequins that catch the light of the chandelier at random intervals. Both of your outfits are a bit flamboyant- but honestly, could you expect any less from this efficient duo?

“It’s all about catching them off guard, hiding in plain sight.” You say to him, tipping your chin upward and placing a hand confidently on your hip. “The more attention we attract, the better chance we have of fooling those around us and identifying our target early.” You smirk as you meet his witty remark with your own explanation.

Hisoka lets out a small chuckle before he opens the door for you. ���You know as well as I that that logic makes no sense.” He points out with a coy smile.

“Sounds good though, doesn’t it?” You retort, walking past him without so much as a glance.

“As does everything that comes from your lips.” He says it in a deep and yearning tone that catches you by surprise, even for Hisoka.

You fight the urge to tense up- this party hasn’t even begun yet, and Hisoka is already trying to get under your skin as you’d suspected he might. Luckily, you know exactly how to bat him off.

“Hurry up.” You order, completely ignoring him; it was phase one of your plan. Much to your chagrin, this pursuit only excites Hisoka, his eyes twinkling as he watches you get into the limo that will take you to the party.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On your way to the ball, Hisoka watches you silently as you look out the window, the stars flying by as you speed to the event. You don’t even notice, until you feel that familiar bloodlust rising from his direction.

“You’re going to have to control- that – if we are going to stay undercover. We don’t know how many Nen users are going to be here.” You say nonchalantly, looking to him.

In the low light, Hisoka doesn’t speak at first, almost as if you’ve caught him looking when you weren’t supposed to. He notices how well your makeup is done- and how much care you have taken in styling your hair tonight. He loves those golden earrings you are wearing and makes a note to steal them from you later.

You notice his silence. “Hey, Hisok-“

“We are almost there, madam.” The driver tells you, interrupting your snapping to bring the pink haired man’s attention back to you… even though it hasn’t left you he saw you sitting on those stairs.

You thank the man, and you take this opportunity to affix your knife under your dress, rolling the long fabric up to your thigh and strapping it around your leg. You know exactly what this will do to Hisoka; and yet, you do it anyway, deciding to fight fire with fire.

Hisoka’s eyes widen under his bangs, and he stifles a soft moan. He does his best to look away, knowing that, despite this game you two play… he must control himself around you. Because, somewhere deep inside, he is amazed that you even agreed to come with him tonight, and he doesn’t want to scare you off.

Luckily, you are very determined to stay unabashed.

Still, his bloodlust peaks at the sight, and you use this as an opportunity to order him again.

“Nen off. Now.” You demand, dropping your skirt back to its normal position and flashing him a side glance as the limo stops.

“Oh, is that an order?” He questions, kicking an eyebrow and biting the inside of his lip, fully expecting to trip you up. He just can’t help himself. He can’t resist the urge to play this game with you, and is so impressed with the fact that you willingly (and expertly) play it too.

“Absolutely.” You reply without missing a beat. His eyes focus on you, unsure how to take your hot and cold attitude, and your apparent disinterest in his flirtation. Still, he obeys, and clears his throat, exiting the limo and moving to your side to open the door for you.

You get out gracefully, refusing the hand he is holding out to you, which both infuriates and encourages him.

“The target is an older Nen user with blue hair. Rich guy. Tons of ladies. Right?” You whisper to Hisoka, trying to confirm the details so you can begin to scout for your victim. “Conjurer?”

Hisoka doesn’t answer you for a moment, and instead, seems distracted before coming back to his senses.

“Hm? Oh, yes. Conjurer. Those women he hangs with are replicas of the prostitutes he’s said to have murdered. Perhaps talking to them could be our key to finding him.” You weren’t questioning how he knew all of this, but glance at him.

“So you’re going to use this as a speed dating service.” You state, rolling your eyes, though your comment is meant to be more funny than mean. Hisoka, however, looks to you with a confused expression.

“You wound me!” He chuckles in response, dramatically clutching his chest, but taking great care not to reveal the actual hurt underneath. Is that what you saw him as?

There is an awkward silence between the two of you, but as you walk into the entryway of the mansion, you put on your acting expressions and begin to scout out the crowd. There are hundreds of people, live music, drinks, and conversations happening all over the large abode, and in an instant, you feel a bit overwhelmed.

“We should split up.” You suggest. Not that you wanted to leave his side, but wouldn’t it be easier to find the target this way?

Unbeknownst to you, your suggestion slightly upsets Hisoka. He had hoped you would stay together, but he doesn’t protest; he nods, and you two go your separate ways. However, you find yourself glancing in his direction as he slips through the crowd, a pang of guilt stabbing your heart.

~~~~~~~~~

An hour or so later, you have still had no luck locating this bastard, and have decided to stop at the bar for a drink. You know that you’re supposed to be working, but how can you relax at all without a break? You order a drink from the bartender, and promptly begin to down it, leaning on the bar and analyzing the crowd. You can’t help but think of Hisoka, and how handsome he looked in his proper outfit which was so different than what you normally saw him in.

Often, you wondered if his flirtation was just that and nothing else; or whether there could be a chance that he feels morefor you. There were times when he could be so caring toward you… but he did have the tendency to be fickle and dishonest with his emotions.

As much as you hated to admit it… you felt morefor him. He wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, you liked that about him. You had the ability to see through his apathetic exterior to the human underneath. You didn’t know whether that made you a hopeless romantic, or just plain crazy.

Suddenly, you see a flash of pink hair in the far distance, breaking your fantasy. It is Hisoka, shining like a diamond just next to the dance floor. A wave of relief washes over you briefly, and you set down your drink to make your way toward him, quicker than you’d imagined.

However, the sight you see there before you made your stomach flip, and you question the flirtation you’d just fantasized about. Through the crowd of people, you can see Hisoka talking to a bunch of nicely dressed ladies, a drink perched in his hand like he was some aristocrat. They seem to be laughing at just about everything he said, and one of them has the audacity to playfully touch his lapel, which set you off.

Now you were disobeying your own advice as your bloodlust piqued. Your fists clench and you begin to trudge toward the large magician, who doesn’t seem to notice your presence. That could not be more false, however, and he smirks to himself as he feels your approach, parting the crowd and traversing the ballroom dance floor.

Your high heels, however, have another idea: to ruin your night.

Your heel twists, and you trip over your own feet, a few people gasping as your body flies toward the floor. However, your momentum is stopped by the stern body of your audacious savior.

Hisoka pulls your arm past his neck, his strong arm wrapping around your waist and holding you flush against his body. A few of the people clap at the display, the women especially noting how dashing this charismatic man is, and how lucky the woman in his arms must be.

Obviously, they didn’t know the real Hisoka…

“If you wanted to dance, you could have just asked.” Hisoka notes softly, with a hubristic undertone. The way he holds you, however, is soft and careful, his fingers spread along your waist as he pulls you to your feet. You scoff, and look away, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from his pleasing embrace. Still, you’re mad at him, and you don’t show your flustered expression outwardly.

Without your permission, Hisoka begins to move your body in tandem with his, guiding your hips to the beat of the new song playing in the ballroom.

“You look angry, (Y/N).” He notices your expression and rigidity but doesn’t stop moving his feet. It’s a rather timid tune at first, however, at the bridge of the song the tempo began to pick up, and you easily accommodated. You two begin to tango across the floor, much to the delight of the people watching your display in awe.

“We’re supposed to be working, and you’re over there flirting.” You scold yourself inwardly as you realize he’s going to have a heyday roasting your obvious jealousy.

“Ah, and you were working at the bar when you were sipping your cocktail?” He retorts fluently, surprising you. He has been watching you this whole time and was perfectly willing to never let you know it!

Hisoka whips his hair out of his eyes, his bangs parting just long enough to reveal to you a flash of his enchanted yellow eyes. Somehow, that hungry, almost pleading look behind his irises melts away your fear that he doesn’t feel anything for you. And from that moment on, you can’t break eye contact with him, as if he’s holding you under some sort of spell.

~God, that was hot.~ You think, but you are determined to keep your cool and not show all your cards, so you shoot him an equally suggestive look that makes his blood boil. Your eyes make him go crazy. He can’t take that look in your eyes, the way you encapsulate your emotions within them makes Hisoka lose his breath and feel a little weak in the knees (not something he’s used to). Both of you are too caught up in each other to realize how much you are both leaking bloodlust.

“Jealousy looks good on you.” He smirks, twirling your body around him, and catching you in his arms.

“Hm.” You smile, beginning to have fun with this performance. “I look good on you, wouldn’t you say?” You retort boldly, not expecting Hisoka to take it quite so seriously. His smile fades, and as you twirl back to him, the song dies down, and Hisoka bends you over his knee, hanging your body in his balance.

His gilded eyes have never looked more intense and sincere. Your comment seems to have uprooted his act, and his forehead presses to yours as it seems he is devouring your soul with his eyes.

“I couldn’t agree more, y/n.” He breathes against your lips at the closing note of the ballad, hoping that you’ll confirm his hopes and take the leap of faith he needs you to in that moment.

Your heart begins to skip beats, and you can’t hold your act any longer. Your cheeks are painted with a deep red shade, and your neck begins to crane. Somehow, on the fly, you are unsure. What would all of this lead to?

Your thoughts of leaving Hisoka hanging are interrupted by the annoying screech of one of the women from before, spewing a slurred, “Way to go, Mr. Horatio!”

Horrible fake name aside, this makes your jealousy skyrocket as you realize she’s talking about your white knight.

You turn back to him with the fire of Hell in your eyes, and meld your lips with Hisoka’s with such ferocity that it takes him off guard, and for a moment he is completely star struck. The taste of your lips ignites such a passion within him that his hand moves to your hair, tilting your head back with a gentle tug to allow him better access to your sensitive parts. His obsession for you is on full display, and he doesn’t care who sees it.

As you break for air, his lips move excitably to your neck, the both of you completely forgetting that you are in the middle of a mission and a whole crowd of people. Neither of you seem to care, and if Hisoka has his way you’ll end this party with a bang.

The guards have a different plan.

“The Magician! I’d recognize that Bloodlust anywhere!” Someone shouts, sending a force of guards your way. Hisoka can’t help but smirk in that general direction, and without a thought, he unleashes the full weight of his bloodlust, and scoops you into his arms protectively. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome, darling. Let’s head out.” He purrs. Somehow, even being chased by a force of guards, which he could easily annihilate, he is as enticing with his voice as ever. You have not the power nor will to disobey that honey-like, nuanced voice that turns your resolve to ash. Instead, you are content with the view of his hair flying in the wind as he gracefully bursts out of the mansion, running with you in his arms.

You’re completely enthralled with him, and he knows it; he feels the same about you. But as the house vanishes from your sight, your eyes widen as you remember one key detail.

“Hisoka… WE DIDN’T KILL THE TARGET!” You panic, as he slows; you’re far enough away to be safe now.

Hisoka chuckles warmly, which confuses you.

“Not to worry, y/n. I killed him days ago.” He says matter-of-factly, anticipating your reaction at hearing that the party was completely unnecessary. “My place?” He skips past it like it’s a minor detail.

Your body tenses.

“Hold on…YOU WHAT?!”

~FIN~

…I could see a very NSFW Part Two for this... -///-

Part two is here!!

https://xhisokas-harleyx.tumblr.com/post/660568203654774784/in-x-this-x-moment-hisoka-x-reader-pt2-to-fire

I loved this prompt. So cute. Hope you all liked it! <3

[nkatr84]

Muppet Haunted Mansion

Happy Halloween!

So this special was super cute and a perfect homage to the Haunted Mansion and the Muppets. The CGI looked a little off, which granted a special which turns muppets into ghosts has to rely on green screen. But the effects weren’t quite as well done as the 2002 Haunted Mansion movie which also used green screen to turn their actors into ghosts. But still pretty good for a tv special, don’t get me wrong!

My only other criticism is i wanted it to be longer! Maybe more build up with the Great MacGuffin character. Like set up the beginning like the Haunted Mansion movie where there’s a party going on at the Mansion only the Great MacGuffin is performing. He’s warned by Madam Pigota to face his fear or he’ll be cursed by the spirits of the mansion. (Giving Miss Piggy 🐷 more screen time, I got you Girl) He scoffs but when the clock strikes midnight, he disappears in a flash of lightning. Someone screams. Transitioning into the opening of the special where Gonzo is riding in the limo.

Now this is pure fanfic, but when Gonzo and Pepe happen upon the Great MacGuffin’s poster, Gonzo tells Pepe that MacGuffin’s greatest trick was turning his fish Pee Wee into a beautiful assistant. With the camera pointing out the silhouette of a showgirl posing in the background over MacGuffin’s shoulder. This of course catches Pepe’s attention.

“Okay now I wants to meets this guy okay? I needs him to show me this trick! Heh heh heh!”

After Gonzo and Pepe drive off, but before Kermit’s call, we see MacGuffin enter a library, carefully taking Pee Wee out of his pocket and pulling out a magic wand. He sets Pee Wee on the desk.

“Okay. Let’s try this now huh Pee Wee ?” He takes a breath and waves the wand,

“Abra Cadabra!”

With a poof of smoke, Pee Wee is gone and sitting on the desk with her legs crossed is a beautiful showgirl in a sparkling red beaded costume that slightly resembles fish scales.

“Hey Boss.” She smiles.

“Red! You’re you again!” MacGuffin grinned stepping forward into her arms.

“Well you finally faced your greatest fear. Not being the Greatest. You finally broke the curse.” Red states.

“Only took a hundred years to change you back into a human.” MacGuffin smiles.

“Yeah well…we are still ghosts Hun.” Red points out.

“At least we have each other.” MacGuffin shrugs.

“Oui Oui…” Red purrs. Just before they kiss, the goat Muppet comes out of nowhere and screams making them jump. The two skeleton Muppets come out to do their bit, the new guy finally getting it right.

“Hey! I did it!”

“This really is a happy ending!”

Then cut to the limo, Kermit’s phone call and the Hitchhiking Ghosts. Then Dancing in the Moonlight.

I really like making the Ghost Host a magician since technically the Haunted Mansion is just a series of magic tricks. Very subtle reference which I hope is added to the lore of the ride. I know I’ll be calling the Ghost Host MacGuffin from now on. This mini fic was just my way of expanding the lore and the special. While mirroring Gonzo’s journey learning that friendship is more important than being “great”.

[themurphyzone]

Pinky the Snowmouse Ch 1

Summary: On a lonely Christmas Eve, a lab mouse finds himself unable to concentrate on world domination. When an ACME scientist claims to own a magic silk hat, Brain initially dismisses it as superstitious nonsense, but finds that this boast could hold more truth than he could ever imagine.   

AN: So I posted this idea back in May (I know, nowhere near Christmas season) but it made for such a viable fic that I had to do it. Besides, I wanted to write a great Christmas fic since I focused more on Halloween last year. 

This fanfiction is also a tribute to all the Christmas specials we love so much every year, from the Christmas Carols to the holiday specials in our favorite cartoons to the Grinches and Rankin-Bass features.

Ch 1: That Old Silk Hat

AO3 Link

It was Christmas Eve, the day bolded and highlighted on the calendar, topped with a picture of Snoopy and his doghouse decked out in festive accessories.

Impossible to miss the overly cheerful music, the jingling bells, and the calls to be charitable to the poorer, less fortunate beings of the world.

Except humans never practiced what they preached.

No matter how much they claimed to care, Brain knew they never would. All of those charitable feelings would vanish as soon as Christmas was over, and they’d go right back to wallowing in their ignorance.

If they truly wanted to be charitable, they’d recognize Brain as the indisputable ruler over the world. But since humans always looked down on non-humans, it was an uphill battle with no end in sight.

But that was just fine with Brain. He wanted to be recognized for his merits and intelligence. He wanted to accomplish something other than achieving the lowest times on maze runs.

In time, his efforts would be rewarded. The bitter defeats would gradually transform into sweet victories.

But for now, he was unable to make headway into world domination since all the ACME employees had gathered by the main entrance, waiting for 3 pm to roll around like a class of bored schoolchildren who desperately wanted to go home.

If the higher ups were expecting all these mediocre scientists to show up for work and be productive on a snowy Christmas Eve, they were sorely mistaken. They were only here to collect their paychecks and didn’t care about scientific progress at all.

One lab tech popped a CD full of classic Christmas songs into an old stereo, and a chorus of Feliz Navidad began. Several scientists spun in their chairs, absentmindedly sucking on candy canes.

Brain was just as impatient as they were, but at least he’d be productive with his time once they all left.

“So ya got any plans, Bill?” a scientist asked.

“Go home,” Bill replied with a shake of his balding head. “Sleep because there’s no way I’m getting any shuteye with the twins bouncing off the walls for their presents tonight.”

“Kids are gonna be like that,” a lab tech spoke up. “I had to stop mine from taste-testing the cookies she wanted to leave out for Santa.”

Laughter rang out from the group, everyone taking turns to relate Christmas mishaps with their families. Soon almost every human joined in on the camereradie, except the most eccentric and inept scientist of them all.

Dr. Henry Hinkle was a man who claimed to bridge the fields of science and magic. However, he was woefully mediocre in both departments, and Brain had long ascertained the man had faked his credentials. Even Hinkle’s fashion sense was peculiar, as his gray lab coat was cut into the style of a magician’s fanciful tailcoat. With his brown handlebar mustache, he seemed more like a harried time traveler from the 19th century than a modern citizen.  

His most prized possession was a tall silk hat with a pink flower attached to the band. Hinkle often claimed it was a magic hat, one that performed wondrous and mystifying deeds far beyond human comprehension. Hinkle was attached to that hat, and nobody had ever seen him in public without it.

Hinkle stood apart from everyone else, an outsider from the science clique. He frantically paced back and forth, desperately trying to get the so-called magic hat to perform properly.

"Say, Hinkle? Didn't you have a gig at the elementary school last week? How'd that go?" Bill called, and all eyes turned to Hinkle, whose eyes nervously flicked back and forth at the sudden attention.

"Swell, very swell," Hinkle mumbled as he nervously fiddled with his hat. "Those little ankle-bi...I mean those delightful, darling angels were floored by my magic."

A woman scoffed and rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Yeah, right. My son was part of that class, and he thought it was the worst Christmas party he'd ever had. How embarrassing that you can't shuffle a deck of cards."

“Madam, I will have you know I can shuffle a deck with my eyes closed and one hand behind my back!” Hinkle retorted. He flicked his left sleeve, and an entire card deck slipped out and spilled onto the ground. As Hinkle bent down in a hasty attempt to get the cards back in order, a small wand, several rubber balls, and colorful scarves tumbled out his other sleeve.

Nobody bothered to help Hinkle out with his misfortune. His coworkers elbowed each other, pointed fingers, and snickered among themselves instead.

The situation was far too pathetic to be humorous.

Brain wasn’t surprised by humans anymore. Peace and goodwill toward their fellow men didn’t exist, though the holiday season claimed otherwise.

It was now 2:40 pm. Only twenty minutes left in this humiliating performance, and Brain could formulate his next plan for world domination without further interruption.  

Hinkle quickly stuffed the mess into his coat pockets. Then he straightened up, pulling on both ends of his bowtie in a vain effort to appear calm and collected once he was finished.

“If your hat really is magic, show us a few tricks!” Bill jeered, and the other employees joined in with challenges of their own.

“Oh, I will. And all of you will feel silly for doubting me after I’m through! Silly, silly, silly indeed!” Hinkle shouted. He tried to remove the hat from his head with a graceful flourish, but clumsily dropped it instead.

He chuckled nervously, a bead of sweat running down his forehead despite the chill.

“As with any exercise, a good magician always warms up with the basics,” Hinkle declared as he showed his audience a small red ball. “For my first trick, I will put this red rubber ball into my magic hat like so, and presto change-o, I have five red rubber balls to-”

He tipped the magic hat upside down. A single red ball bounced out, rolling along the floor before it hit an unimpressed lab tech’s shoe.

“-go,” Hinkle finished dejectedly. He peered into the hat, futilely shaking it as if the other four balls would pop out. Once he realized that wouldn’t be the case, his shoes scuffed the ground in shame as he picked up the single red ball and dropped it back into his hat.

“Look on the bright side, man! You produced invisible balls without trying!” someone called, garnering laughter from the rest of the audience.

Hinkle’s face turned red.

And while the scorn wasn’t directed at Brain, he thought the heckling was an unnecessary endeavor. There was little point in prolonging the man’s misery, no matter how incompetent or delusional he was at magic tricks.

“N-now, as I said before, that was just a warm up,” Hinkle said, nervously tugging at his collar. Then he pulled a small pink scarf out from his pocket, spilling several cards and dice onto the floor again. “But my second trick is sure to amaze you! Watch as I place this scarf into my hat and let the magic focus, now hocus pocus I say, and out come green, gold, and...gray?”

To nobody’s surprise, there was only a lone pink scarf in Hinkle’s hand. “There were supposed to be endless scarves attached to this…” he muttered. It fluttered out of his hand and back into the hat.

But nobody was paying attention to Hinkle anymore. The clock struck three, and the dull atmosphere changed to a holiday-induced fervor as everyone pushed and shoved their way to the front so they could card out and leave.

Brain crept to the front of his cage, one hand resting on his crooked tail as he prepared to unlock the cage and make headway into his plans as soon as they left. He was brimming with viable ideas, and they needed to be written down before he forgot them.

“EVERYBODY, WAIT!” Hinkle bellowed over the noise, and his colleagues turned to him with annoyance written all over their faces.

Brain gritted his teeth. Just let them go already! Was that really so difficult?

“I have one more trick, yes, just one more teensy trick up my sleeve! A real one, I assure you! You won’t be disappointed!” Hinkle said, rubbing his hands together frantically. He emptied his pockets, tossing props everywhere in a vain attempt to find something useful.

Then Hinkle donned a pair of white magician’s gloves, his eyes falling right on Brain. And Brain realized he was about to be conscripted as an unwilling volunteer.

Since his usual tactic of biting fingers until he was left alone wouldn’t work on gloved hands, Brain beat a hasty retreat to the back of his cage, intending to use the exercise wheel as further cover.

But he only made it halfway to the wheel when the door opened and gloved fingers pinched his tail, dragging him out of the cage and dangling him over the magic hat for everyone to see.

“Watch as I transform this ugly lab mouse into a beautiful dove!” Hinkle yelled, and just as Brain processed the insult, he was unceremoniously dropped into the hat. He fell right on top of the rubber ball, knocking the wind out of him. “Abracadabra alakazam!”

Brain pressed himself against the inside folds of the hat as he tried to catch his breath, but he was only given a moment of reprieve before he was snatched up and thrown into the air, as if Hinkle expected him to grow wings because of a nonsensical phrase.

He slammed against the window and fell to the table below, shaking his head to clear away the stars circling in his vision. Every part of his body ached, agony starting from the tip of his tail and snaking up his spine. Slowly, he sat up and checked himself over in the window.

There was a distinct lack of avian features in his reflection, as he expected. He had a new break in his tail from the rough treatment, but there weren’t any other new markings.  

Everyone stared at Brain in silence, and the only sounds were barely suppressed squeaks of disbelief from Hinkle and a chorus of Deck the Halls.

Then there was a booming laugh.

“Prettiest dove I’ve ever seen!” Bill said, to the mirth of his coworkers.  

Brain’s ears flattened, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear forever.

His fists clenched at the sound of their mockery. He never chose to be involved in this ridiculous demonstration. Or deal with their scorn and stupidity every day. Or live at ACME Labs at all, where he had to suffer through experiment after experiment on top of attempting world domination and failing every single night.

“Come back! I have trick cards! Magic 8-balls! I’ll saw something in half and put it back together, I swear!” Hinkle shouted at the scientists’ retreating figures as they all carded out and stepped into the bitter chill of winter. They shuffled through the snow-covered property and into their vehicles, not wishing to be delayed any longer.

The prized silk hat crumpled in Hinkle’s hand.

“Bah! The only thing this junk hat’s good for is the trash can!” Hinkle snarled as he hurled the hat at the wastebasket by the door, but it only hit the nearby wall instead.

Then he stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Brain peered out the window, his breath forming a small patch of fog against the cold glass as he watched Hinkle trudge towards the city. He waited a minute to ensure Hinkle wasn't coming back, then rushed over to a drawer where he'd hidden a roll of blueprints and writing utensils.

He was finally, blissfully alone.

Strands of colorful Christmas lights twinkled along the walls, casting a festive hue onto the unfurled blueprints.

Solve for x. Cube the most wonderful time of the year. Multiply by pi.

Peppermints, candy canes, and chocolates were mixed together in a snowflake-patterned bowl. Brain snacked on one of the chocolates as he scribbled a preliminary design for a machine. The candy was bittersweet on his tongue.

Sodium and chloride to form an ionic bond. Three irons needed to balance the equation. Symbol H stood for the hap-happiest season of all.

Only the scratching of his pencil, the hum of a heater which barely worked, and an old, droning carol. The Christmas bells subdued, the computers shut off.

And hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near. Loved ones are near. Loved ones are near...  

There was a wet spot on the blueprint, directly over where he was trying to write. Frowning, he rubbed out the excess moisture, but only succeeded in smudging his numbers. He started over in an empty space, only for the wetness to appear again. Annoyed, he flipped his pencil around and rubbed the grayed area with his eraser.

The blueprint ripped.

Though the hole was tiny and didn’t affect the rest of his work in the slightest, it seemed that his plan had failed before he’d implemented it.

And it occurred to him that he’d never considered how the machine would function or how it would help him accomplish his takeover.

His face felt strange, so he rubbed his cheeks to get rid of the sensation. His hand came away damp.

Oh.

He was crying.

It was that stupid song’s fault. He dropped his pencil and walked over to the stereo, slamming his hand against the stop button just as the song reached its end.

The sound cut off immediately.

Only the dying thrums of a malfunctioning heater now.

The silence was overwhelming.

Christmas media always said the holiday season was a joyous occasion for family and friends, a time for reflection and rebirth as the year wrapped up and began anew.

But it was just propaganda. Nothing more than lies so people would praise themselves as right and virtuous and loving when they were nothing of the sort.

Brain splashed cold water onto his face, ridding himself of the useless tears. Then he looked out the window. A light flurry had begun, the clouds low and dreary gray. The land was already blanketed in snow from the blizzard on the winter equinox, and temperatures hadn’t warmed up since.

And while there were footprints in the snow from passersby, much of the surrounding property was untouched.

Maybe that’s what he needed.

An opportunity to numb himself, to walk around in the cold and discard these useless, empty aches in his chest.

He tore up his blueprint and threw it away. He was better off starting over after his stint outside.

Then he put on his winter gear, nicked from a doll somebody had brought in as a donation to a toy drive, but now lay forgotten in the lab.

The thick white jacket was comfortable and padded with extra fluff. He threw the hood over his head and tucked in his ears, then pulled on his snow boots and gloves.

As he wound a long piece of string around the window latch, he caught sight of the silk hat that laid beside the wastebasket, considered nothing more than trash since it wouldn’t do what Hinkle wanted. The rubber ball and scarf was still inside, crumpled and forgotten.

Magic wasn’t real. It was simply the art of misdirection and illusion. Or a word the uneducated used to describe occurrences they couldn’t explain with science.

Despite his beliefs, Brain built a simple pulley system with thick yarn and an empty spool to haul the silk hat up to the counter.

He could use the hat for extra fabric. Repurpose it. Shrink it so he could have a formal hat for himself.

He opened the window, allowing the cold wind to numb the exposed fur on his face. With all the flurries, he’d probably regret this decision later, but that wasn’t anything new. Then he dropped the loose end of the string outside and tugged the knot around the latch. Once he was satisfied with the knot’s tightness, he dropped the silk hat into the snow-covered bushes below.

It was ironic, how he experimented with chemicals and complicated machinery every night, but didn’t know what he was doing with a simple hat.

Maybe that humiliating demonstration had messed with his mind, overriding all his logic and planning capabilities.

But it seemed like such a flimsy excuse, not providing a satisfactory explanation as to why he’d dragged a so-called magic hat outside on what was supposed to be a simple break.

Brain slid down the string, his boots crunching against the snow as he landed. He stuck out a gloved hand, catching several flurries.

No two snowflakes looked alike, they always said. But their crystalline structures couldn’t be seen without a microscope, so they were nothing more than white powder to the naked eye. He rolled the flurries in his palm until they formed a tiny snowball.

It gave him an idea.

But...it was childish. Stupid.

Yet he found himself rolling snow anyway.

This patch of the property was completely undisturbed, so he had a nice layer of clean, white snow untouched by human footprints to work with.

Nobody was around to see him. And it gave his hands something to do instead of remaining idle.

He quickly found that rolling snow into a spherical shape per the typical snowman wasn’t as easy as television depicted. The snow didn’t want to move in the way he wanted, and it came out as a lumpy, ovular mound that happened to be the same size as him.

He kicked aside a thin, whiplike twig that had broken off from one of the nearby bushes as he gathered more snow to form the head. Then he reconsidered and picked up the twig.

In his hands, it looked very similar to a mouse’s tail. One that wasn’t broken by mishandling.

While he didn’t have the height or the tools required for a full-sized snowman, maybe he could create a snowmouse instead.

He carefully threaded the twig into the backside of the mound, curling it around so it resembled an actual tail.

Then he brushed extra snow away from the front, smoothing out the mound until it had the snowy equivalent of legs.

The head was more difficult to sculpt, but he managed to create something that would be recognizable as a mouse’s head, with two small snowballs forming the ears and a muzzle that jutted out. He would’ve made the muzzle smaller, but the increased size was necessary to counterweight the ears. Lastly, he slid two sticks into each side of the snowmouse to serve as arms.

The snowmouse was twice Brain’s height, and while it had the proportions of a mouse, it was ultimately just a cold white body with three embedded twigs. No personality, no splashes of color.

Anyone could easily miss or step on it.

The snowmouse would be gone by next week, once the temperature rose above freezing. No trace of his handiwork would remain.

Such was life. Short and brutal, with nothing to show for it.

The faceless snowmouse seemed oddly alone, the only other thing besides Brain in this wintery courtyard. There wasn’t anything for either of them here.

“Sorry,” Brain said, unsure of why he was apologizing to something that couldn’t hold a conversation. He’d wasted far too much time here. He had to get back to his plans. “I’m going inside.” 

A chilly breeze blew, and Brain held fast to his hood so it didn’t come off. As he turned to the lab, he saw the silk hat become airborne, flying several feet until it landed by Brain and the snowmouse.

He didn’t think the breeze had been that strong.

But the strangest part was how the hat was much smaller than before. It wouldn’t fit a human anymore.

Even the red rubber ball and pink scarf shrunk. And there were several pebbles that hadn’t been there previously, though Brain guessed they could’ve just gotten inside when he’d dropped the hat.

Brain stared at the items, then back at the snowmouse.

“Just this once,” he sighed as he draped the scarf between the main body and head, then placed the rubber ball at the end of the muzzle for a nose.

Two of the pebbles became unseeing eyes, though Brain was at a loss of what he should do with the other two pebbles. He tried using them as a replacement for buttons on the body, but that didn’t seem right. And placing them on the cheeks just looked awkward.  

Brain held a pebble in each hand, stepping back to determine the placement. But he didn’t find anything satisfactory.

He was about to discard the pebbles entirely, but then he noticed that the snowmouse seemed to have an odd pair of buckteeth sticking out at the end of its muzzle with the way he held the pebbles.

Perhaps he should’ve left it as a matter of perspective. It was stupid. It was silly.

But Brain stuck the pebbles on the underside of the muzzle anyway.

The snowmouse looked ridiculous with its red rubber nose, pink scarf, and pebbles for eyes and goofy buckteeth.

Another breeze picked up, and one of the snowmouse’s stick arms waved, moving up and down like it was saying hello.

Like it was...friendly. Alive. Happy.

Slowly, Brain approached the snowmouse. He placed one hand on the snowmouse’s body, balanced on his tiptoes, and threw the silk hat on top.

For reasons Brain couldn’t explain, the hat just seemed to go with the rest of the snowmouse.

And then he caught himself.

What a ridiculous concept.

Creating a snowmouse wasn’t his worst transgression, if he’d just left it at the creation process. No, instead he had to go personifying it! Assigning qualities that shouldn’t be designated to inanimate objects!

Snow wasn’t alive. It was water. That’s all it was.

“You’re snow. You’re just a pile of frozen water!” Brain yelled, turning away from the snowmouse. Enough with these idiotic fantasies. He was going inside, back to the cruel reality of trying to take over the world. “You’re not alive, so just leave me alone! Quit toying with my perception!”

He stomped towards the window, but only made it a few steps before an odd sound gave him pause.

“Toys? Narrrrrf! That sounds like jolly good fun! Can I play with toys too?”

Brain looked over his shoulder, and promptly tripped over himself in surprise.

A pair of bright blue eyes was looking back at him. Actual eyes, not pebbles.

And the snowmouse was talking.

End AN: I feel really bad for calling Brain ugly. *sobs*

I actually kinda find writing Hinkle’s dialogue fun. A bit of a strange character to crossover with, but fun. Hocus Pocus the Rabbit won’t be making an appearance. 

Also some changes will be made from the original Frosty the Snowman cause some parts of the cartoon don’t make sense. A greenhouse at the North Pole, really?

[miracul0us-multishipper]

You (Part 2)

Now you see me, now you don’t!

Part 1 | AO3

Felix Graham De Vanily was, in his own humble opinion, special. 

He was smart.

He was composed.

He knew exactly what to say and when, and he could make people see exactly what he wanted them to see.

He wasn’t his cousin, after all, almost identical looks aside. Adrien never knew when to speak up, or when it was better to stay quiet. Never knew how to hide his thoughts and keep his - utterly unrealistic, when it came to his father - hopes in check. And he might be smarter than Felix gave him credit for, but all that intelligence left him as soon as his friends were concerned.

That was what all his flaws boiled down to, really.

Adrien made the fatal, unforgiving mistake of caring too much. Always had.

(It was what Felix liked about him, deep down. Adrien was genuine, in everything he felt. Felix envied him for the ease with which he made friends.)

But.

Felix wasn’t like Adrien at all. He was too smart to care for people - his mother aside - any more than he had to. Mundane distractions. Friends, crushes - all things that would only deter him from his path in life: high above the crowd, always the center of attention, yet unreachable. Playing everyone, but gone before anybody noticed.

It was a glorious but lonely road. No, scratch that. It was a lonely but glorious road. Much better.

He didn’t need anything or anyone.

He was the sole and solemn genius of the family.

He was a magician, who didn’t need any fancy jewelry to work miracles - just the right distraction and disguise.

He was-

“Ow!”

Groaning Felix looked at the little bite marks on his finger. 

“Were you even listening?! Or did you just wait for an opportunity to stab me in the back?”

The black and white bundle of fur and betrayal on his lap meowed and swiped at his hand, now out of reach.

 “I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”, he grumbled and shoved the traitor off of his legs, but couldn’t help but smile when he smugly licked his nose - as if to say: I'd do it again. “I raised you too well. Now, where was I?”

He sighed.

“Ah, yes. I don’t care for anyone - please stop scratching that ear, honey, it’s not healed yet - because I'm just too smart for that. So it’s utterly impossible that I, Felix Graham de Vanily, am in love with Dupain-Cheng. Got it?”

His cat, the little bastard, answered by knocking his pencil box over and started to chew on a pen. Felix narrowed his eyes.

“Oh? You dare doubt my word?”

With quick fingers he stole his cat's spoils and placed it out of his reach.

“Quite bold for a creature without opposable thumbs, hm?”

Insulted, the poor, thumbless pet retreated to his laptop and laid down on the keyboard - causing the screensaver to give way to the last opened tab. Which was Marinette's Instagram page.

“Wah!”

Hurried to hide the proof of his interest - as if she might somehow appear in his room if he looked at her picture for too long - he shooed his pet away and closed the tab. Said pet meowed smugly and, upset about being chased away from two spots already, sat down on his pillow. Great.

“You did that on purpose!”, he accused his cat. “But that tab proves nothing. It was merely a passing interest in her admittedly wearable work. It has nothing to do with any confessions - faked confessions, or that she can apparently recognize me in disguise, or the very neutral fact that she is cute, by some people's - not my own! - standards.”

His cat blinked. And sneezed onto his pillow.

“Bless you. Now move, or I’ll use you instead of a bunny for that hat trick I’m working on.”

Sighing, Felix let himself fall backwards onto his bed, grabbing the fleeing cat and burying his face in the fluffy fur.

“Oh, to be a cat!”, he wailed into his involuntary comfort pillow. “With no troubles except how to best annoy his owner.”

 The poor animal hissed and escaped his grasp, saving himself from the bitter fate of a comfort pillow.

 “Run, you uncaring monster.”, Felix sighed, “Leave me to my worries. Which don’t include Marinette at all, by the way.”

He sat up and watched as the little traitor turned to sulk on his dresser.

“Stop looking at me like that. Even if I had a short bout of interest - possibly even infatuation! It’s already all but cured.”

He nodded to himself, ignoring that the disinterested cat had begun cleaning his leg instead of listening.

“School's closed, after all!”, he hummed, scrolling through the news on his phone. “And social contacts are to be reduced to the bare minimum. So I’m not going to see her again before this passing interest has... well, passed.”

As if in response to his words, his laptop started to ring and the monitor lit up with the picture of blue, blue eyes and a smile that could melt the stars off of the sky. Not that he paid attention to such things.

“Oh no, no, no!”, he panted as he fell out of his bed and stumbled towards the computer. “Incoming Skype call?! Oh, come on!”

The ringtone repeated itself and Felix jumped.

“What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?”

Panicking, he looked at his pet.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

The addressed party blinked. And went back to licking his nuts.

“Argh! I am surrounded by incompetence!”

Taking a deep breath, Felix straightened his vest and cravat - just because he was staying at home for the foreseeable future didn’t mean that he would dress any less professionally.

“Who needs your advice anyway. I can do this.”

He straightened his back and sat down on the chair in front of his desk.

“I am Felix Graham de Vanily, the best actor in all of France and the United Kingdom, not in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I can totally answer a Skype call.”

Before he could think again, he pressed the green button.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng!”, he greeted overly enthusiastic. “We meet again.”

“If you can call it that.”, Marinette laughed with the voice of a goddamn angel. She was wearing a white, polka-dotted pajama top, was illuminated by early-noon sunlight falling through some sort of window in the ceiling, and her hair – was – down.

If this was some sort of cosmic test, it wasn’t fair.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your virtual company?”, he said quickly, trying not to think too much about how her hair looked even softer than the fur of a certain cat. Then, for good measure, he added: “Miss me already?”

Marinette disappeared  for a moment, before returning with a sizable stack of papers.

“As much as I could do without my favorite pain in the neck, we have a school assignment to do. You know, since school is closed?”

She leaned in and he held his breath.

“Did you even notice? I haven’t seen you last Friday.”

What was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I noticed alright! It kept me from embarrassing myself by avoiding you, because my brain got all mushy ever since you fake-confessed to me pretending to be my cousin?

Ha! Fat chance.

“Aw, worried for me?”, he improvised, as usual, by being sarcastic. “Let me soothe your concern for your favorite pain in the neck: I merely got tired of cosplaying Adrien. I'm a very busy man, you see?”

She rolled her eyes and somehow managed to make it look cute.

“Of course you are. Well, hopefully not too busy for a presentation on marine biology, due next week.”

He blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the one Adrien and I are supposed to do?”

Felix Had Questions. For example:

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t hack into Adriens E-mail account. I saw you present homework that you couldn’t have known about if Madame Mendeleiev hadn’t emailed you, as Adrien.”

She raised an eyebrow, in a way that could almost be described as playful.

“Plus, you seem the type to do that.”

He scoffed and crossed his arms, as if it would hide his racing heartbeat.

“First of all: No, I am not breaking into my cousins account. I may like to prank him - or rather everyone, really - but that goes a little far. Secondly, that Lila girl was only too eager to do homework with Adrien-Me, so I could keep up with every assignment once I could get her hands off of me.”

“I thought a magician never revealed his tricks?”

True. But he had wanted to see if she would get jealous. Which she didn’t. Which was expected and totally fine by him. He didn’t care anyways.

Lucky for him, Marinette wanted to tease him more than an answer.

“Well, I hope your work ethic is better when it comes to presentations. I'll send you the materials!”

A click later, his laptop alerted him of One New Email, containing no less than twenty-two pages of material. He raised his eyebrows.

“Not to crush your little illusion of me as a hard-working student, but that looks like awfully tedious work. What makes you think I would voluntarily do homework meant for Prince Charming?”

The sassy little smirk she'd shown him during their battles of wit last week returned.

“You mean, aside from the fact that, once school is open again and Adrien is back, your little trick with pretending to be him will be revealed? And that I’m your best chance not to be chased out of town by a very angry Chloé Bourgeois? Not to start with Alya, Rose and Juleka, who still haven’t forgiven you for that stunt you pulled the last time you were here.”

Sound argument, he had to give her that.

“Pah!”, he said, just for the sake of irritating her. “So what? It’s not like it was my idea to move to Paris anyway!”

That was at least partially true. His mother had insisted to come back to France, mostly because she wanted to keep an eye on Gabriel. But he hadn’t been against it either.

It wasn’t like he had friends in London anyway, and in Paris it at least didn’t get boring, with all these butterflies and superheroes. Plus, he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he had missed Adrien. That boy could use a little family - once Felix was done pretending to be him. 

Marinette hummed and tapped her chin impatiently.

“Well, then see it as the prize you promised me after our little insult-match at the Trocadero.”

“Wait, wait, wait!”, he held up his hands. “I already settled that score, didn’t I? You confessed to me, remember?”

“I practiced confessing to Adrien with you, you mean.”, she reminded him with a raised eyebrow – Ouch, by the way – before leaning back in her pink chair. “And that was because you talked me into it. I never told you what I wanted, did I?”

Well, fuck. Not that the prospect of working with Marinette was that unpleasant, but in his current state of emotional confusion, it would only be detrimental. He needed an out, an excuse!

“Why would you want to work with me anyways? I would have thought you'd jump at the chance to do something with Prince Adrien of Dreamland. Why settle for the pain in the neck?”

Marinette sighed.

“Adrien is still recovering from his flu, and given the current, ah, global situation, I thought it would be better to put his health first. Besides, you're my favorite pain in the neck.”

“I'm flattered, darling”, he said, trying not to sound like it was as true as it was, “but-“

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette interrupted him with a shout, and suddenly her eyes dominated the entire screen, as if she were mere millimeters away from her own computer. “Felix! What is that?!”

“Huh?”, he made, eloquent as usual. He turned around, just in time to see his traitorous cat jump from the dresser right onto his lap. Apparently, now that Felix had someone else to talk to, the little bastard felt neglected. 

“You mean him?”, he asked, turning back to the screen with the cat in his lap. An inhuman squeal came from the other side of the line and Marinette sacked back into her chair, which spun around its axis, like, three times in a single second.

“Felix Graham de Vanily!”, she said with all but glowing eyes. “Show – me – the cat!”

Since her voice made absolutely clear that it had been an order and Felix had always had a strong survival instinct, he obediently held up the little monster. Who let out a plaintive little “Mow”, but otherwise submitted to his fate.

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette repeated, “He's adorable!”

“You think?”, Felix said dumbly, at a loss for how to react to this sudden change in situation.

“I do! I do! What's his name?”

“Uh...”, Felix thought, debating whether a lie would save his reputation. “Uhm...”

“Don’t tell me you named him Felix Junior!” She turned towards the cat in false exasperation. “Did he name you Felix Junior?!”

The cat that was most certainly not named Felix Junior meowed in his feline confusion.

“No, of course not!”, Felix snapped back, sinking into the chair as if it might have mercy and swallow him.

“Then what's his name? What, for God’s sake, is this pretty little kitty called?!”

What had his life turned into?

“'dini.”, he mumbled, hiding his face behind the cat.

“What? Speak louder!”, Marinette demanded, and so he accepted his fate.

“Houdini!”, he groaned in embarrassment. “I named him Houdini, alright? I was eleven!”

For a moment, the line went quiet. Then, inevitably, Marinette burst out in laughter.

“For real? I can’t believe it!”

Sulking, Felix turned away from the screen, but immediately Marinette stopped.

“No, no, no! Bring Houdini back! I love his name, okay? Give him back!”

“You're not telling anybody of him, got it?”, he hissed, cheeks as red as Ladybug's suit. Marinette snickered. 

“Of course, I promise. Houdini will be our little secret, alright? Now bring him back!”

Satisfied, Felix turned the chair back towards the laptop and placed Houdini on the desk. The curious thing didn’t hesitate to lounge onto his keyboard and examined the camera, much to Marinette’s delight.

“Oh lord, he's so cute!”

Felix sighed and leaned back.

“Believe me, he knows.”

“He looks just like you!”

At that, Felix spluttered and jumped up again.

“W-w-what?!”

Internally already setting up the equation: “Marinette thinks Houdini is cute, and Marinette thinks Houdini looks like Felix, then Marinette thinks Felix is cute?” he was about two seconds from fainting.

“He's got a little tie, see?”, Marinette giggled on, ignorant of the thought-spiral she'd sent him into. “Just like you!”

Oh. She meant the patterns of his fur, which admittedly looked a little like he was wearing a tie. Of course.

“Who's the most adorable thing in Paris? You are!”, Marinette continued with her shameless adoration of that undeserving little brat, who currently Mow-ed happily at the screen. Pah!

“Just so you know, he bites people for fun.”, Felix badmouthed his own pet, absolutely not because he was jealous. “You can’t trust him. He'll act sweet, but as soon as you're not looking he's got your fingers between his sharp little fangs!”

“Eh, I can handle it.”, Marinette shrugged and immediately went back to admiring Houdini. “You're a good kitty, aren’t you? The best, the best! Yes, you are!”

“No, he's not!”, Felix insisted through clenched teeth. “He's moody and arrogant! Nobody likes him, that's why I took him in! He thinks it’s fun to hurt people, he holds grudges forever and he's incredibly annoying when he's bored!”

Wait, was he still talking about the cat?

“You just like him because he looks all cute and innocent, but if you knew him, you'd never even want to be in the same room as him.”

Marinette had gone quiet on the other side, and Houdini narrowed his eyes at him in betrayal. Then she shrugged.

“If you don’t want him anymore, I'll take him in.”

“What?!”

She would have to pry the little shit out of his cold, dead hands!

“Did you not listen to a word I said?” he asked, trying not to let on that he didn’t actually dislike Houdini.

Marinette smiled.

“Sure. But I still think he's a good kitty.”

“But why?”

She hummed, pushing her stack of papers aside so she could put her elbows on the desk. Resting her chin on her hand, she looked up in him.

“Most cats are. You just got to give them a chance to come out of their shell.”

“But... But he's mean!”

“Maybe he's just lonely. Maybe he needs some friends, and then he'll learn to be nicer. I can wait.”

He was not blushing!

“Why would you want to? There's lots of better cats, you could just pick one of them right away.”

“Yeah, well, I want Houdini. All cats deserve a chance. Even the meaner ones.”

She smiled down at the black and white loaf that purred on his keyboard.

“In my experience, peop- cats only show their best sides if you give them a chance to open up. If you're too quick to brush them aside as hopeless, or mean, you might miss out on the most wonderful personalities underneath. And I think Houdini is one of those.”

And then, because the universe just wanted to see him fall, she winked at him. Jesus Christ!

“Anyway, I'll give you some time to read through the material I sent you. Message me once you’re done, we've got a lot of work ahead. Bye!”

Before he could realize what she had said, the window blanked and closed on him. Disappointed that his fan had vanished, Houdini meowed and returned once again to Felix' lap.

“Bye.”, Felix stammered belatedly. What had just... How could she go around just saying things like that? And then hang up?!

“Ugh, Houdini!”, he lamented. “Look what I have become!”

Reduced to a beetred, stammering, weird-cat-metaphor-using fool!

The cat gave a smug “Mrow” and headbutted him in the chin, but Felix didn’t have it in him to complain.

“Fine,” he sighed in defeat, “you win. So what if I like her?”

Houdini purred.

“You do too, don’t you? Bet you'd bite her anyway.”

He purred on, unperturbed.

“Knew it.”

He sighed once again.

“She's right, though. You are a good kitty. Deep down.”

Houdini meowed and licked his finger, just where he'd bitten him earlier.

“Well, now you're just sucking up to me! Two-faced little demon. Mwah!”

He pressed a small kiss to the top of his furry head, then rolled the chair closer to the desk and opened his emails.

“Alright, then.”, he tried to motivate himself, “let's show Marinette what a good kitty- what a good person we are and do our homework.”

At that, Houdini promptly stood up and jumped onto the bed, leaving him alone with twenty-two pages of reading material.

“Bastard.”

- - -

Bonus:

Ladybug, crashing through Felix' window: Felix Graham de Vanily!

Felix: Ladybug?!

Ladybug: I have it on good authority that you own a good kitty! It is crucial for the safety of Paris that I pet him right this instant!

Felix, remembering her right hook: ... sure?

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

mad woman

part of my folklore series

Summary: Kurt is concerned that Santana has lost her voice; Blaine helps her get it back. 

Notes: I really feel that this song embodies Santana. I can’t explain it but it just reminds me so much of her. HAPPY 1 YEAR OF FOLKLORE!!!!!

AO3

Anytime he heard Santana singing in the shower, Kurt wondered why she gave up performing. Sure, she had the Spotlight Diner shifts but she was seldom a soloist. More likely, Santana opted to be backup vocals unless she was feuding with Rachel that day. It was like glee all over again. Her voice silenced or drowned out by the attention seekers. She didn’t fight for it as she had during her short-lived time as a member of the Treble Tones. Hell, she wasn’t into the music as much as Elliott and Dani were when One Tree Hill had been a quintet. 

Kurt was worried about her. Though she’d deny it, Santana loved to sing. She needed glee just as much as the rest of them. The problem was since she moved to New York it was like she lost her voice. 

He remembers feeling like that when he first arrived. Without NYADA, Kurt was another drop in the huge sea of city folk. No longer did he stand out for his bold fashion choices or being gay. Here, the things that once made him eccentric were just another thing people tried to ignore as they went about their days. No one in the city had time to pick on or compliment a newcomer from a small town in Ohio. 

At first, Kurt liked it because the fear of being beaten for being himself had completely vanished within a few weeks of moving. That was all behind him. Way back in Lima. After a few months, the novelty wore off. He actually started to miss the stares from his classmates at McKinley High. 

He hated to admit it but Rachel may have been right when she said they were similar. Sometimes, Kurt felt like Tinkerbell too. He needed applause to live. Craved the attention. Then, he got it at the Winter Showcase. Madame Tibideaux handed the limelight to him on a silver platter. The entirety of the NYADA staff got to hear him sing. 

Of course, he could’ve thrown up because he was so nervous and completely unprepared. Yet, it had been exhilarating. That rush of being on stage with a captive audience. Combined with his attendance to NYADA being on the line, Kurt hadn’t felt this energized since he last saw Blaine in person. 

None of that seemed to faze Santana Lopez. 

Honestly, after pulling her into the band and having her quit, recommending the evening dance classes at NYADA, and taking her out to Callbacks on weekends, Kurt was out of ideas. She refused to get on stage. But he saw that small smile on her face when she hummed under her breath when she thought no one was listening. No matter how vehemently she denied it, she missed singing. So, Kurt called Blaine. 

“I don’t know, Kurt, it’s kinda hard to help when I’m not seeing the situation for myself.” Blaine sighs, likely bummed he can’t solve this. 

Kurt practically saw him pouting through the phone. Thank god, they weren’t on Skype. He hated seeing his boyfriend looking so defeated when he wasn’t there in person to kiss the top of his head. 

Blaine had become the self-proclaimed advice-giver of the New Directions since he transferred. 

He helped Mike Chang fix his relationship with Tina when they had a week-long fight about only eating at Asian restaurants on their date nights. Tina had been pissed. No simple apology was going to cut it.  Blaine single-handedly compiled a list of Tina’s favorite places to eat and added a few of his personal favorite date night places. 

When Finn would forget special dates and Rachel got fussy about how Finn never uses the couple calendars she made for them, Blaine stepped in and helped him set up a reminder alert on his phone. 

And there was that whole fiasco about Miss Pillsbury not-so-subtly hinting that she wanted to get engaged. Blaine was able to straighten Mr. Schue out pretty quickly that day. For the life of him, that man didn’t understand why Miss Pillsbury was acting so weird. 

“You don’t have to be so roundabout, you know?” Kurt told him. 

“Huh.” Playing dumb, typical.

“Just come up to the city, Blaine,” he said. “I know you want to ask.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, boyfriend of mine,” Blaine huffed. “I have zero ulterior motives while being completely unhelpful to your current predicament.” 

“Uh-huh, I’m sure that’s the case. I’ll see you next week.” 

“Unless Cooper can find an earlier flight!” Blaine exclaimed. 

He had been using up the countless number of frequent flyer miles his older brother had racked up to make weekend trips to New York. After Cooper discovered their long-distance relationship (likely after one too many late-night calls from Blaine missing his boyfriend), he offered them to Blaine. 

Blaine arrived the following Friday. McKinley had some teacher’s day so Blaine was able to hop on a morning flight. He was waiting in the loft when Kurt finished classes for the day. 

“Okay, we’re going to Callbacks tonight,” Kurt said, removing his coat. 

“Hello to you too,” Blaine replied, standing up from the sofa. “How are you, Blaine? How was the flight, Blaine? I missed you so much, Blaine.” 

Kurt rolled his eyes and ignored his boyfriend. 

“This isn’t about you, Blaine,” he said, “it’s about Santana.” 

“Wow, Blaine, you look great! Aren’t those my yellow pants you’re borrowing?” Blaine crossed his arms. 

“Hey!” Kurt exclaimed. “Those are my pants!” 

“Yeah.” Blaine blushed. “I rolled them so they’d fit better.”

Kurt marched over to him and knocked him onto the couch. “You look hot in my clothes.” 

“I look better out of them.” 

Instead of verbally agreeing, Kurt unbuttoned his yellow pants. Blaine was quick to keep up removing his own shirt and attempting to pull off Kurt’s as well. However, Blaine was sitting on the couch and Kurt was kneeling between his legs. It was proving to be rather difficult a task. 

“Kurt…” Blaine groaned, “come up here with me.” 

“I can’t very well do what I want up there, Blaine.” 

He sat up straighter. “Is this payment for not properly greeting me because I’ll take a blowjob over ‘how do you do’ any day?” 

Kurt pressed his face into Blaine’s naked thigh. “So long as you aren’t accepting blowjobs from anyone but me.”

“No, I would…” Kurt licked around Blaine’s hip. “Never.” 

Within seconds, Blaine’s head was fully tipped over the back of the couch and the only thing coming from his mouth were moans. He couldn’t even force the word ‘Kurt’ from his lips. When Kurt finally gave in and decided Blaine had received efficient teasing, he sucked at the tip until Blaine screamed his name. 

They were quick to clean up their mess afterward, unsure of when the girls would be home. It was one thing to have sex in the living room, it was a whole other to get caught. Though, Kurt figured Rachel owned him after Brody paraded around naked for the few months they dated.  

“Okay, now that we’ve defiled Santana’s bed, can we focus on helping her?” 

“Step one, don’t tell her about this,” Blaine suggested. 

Kurt slapped Blaine’s chest. 

“Ow.” 

“Be helpful. You said if you were in New York, you’d be able to help better. So do it.” 

“FIne,” Blaine replied, “no Callbacks. I have a better idea.” 

Turns out that idea was a speciality club night of Alternative Tunes. 

“It’s open mic. There’s gonna be singers, poets, magicians, and I heard their harpist is opening tonight,” Blaine explained, as they waited in line. 

“Is that why she brought your violin?” Rachel questioned. 

“Yup!” Blaine held up his black case. “I haven’t played to an audience of more than one in a while.” 

Kurt smiled at him. He loved when Blaine performed just for him almost as much as he enjoyed watching Blaine in front of an audience. Something about his face just lit up on stage. The same way Santana’s did in front of a microphone. 

“As much as I love talking about violins…” She rolled her eyes, “is there alcohol at this place?” Santana asked, “because that’s like 90% the point of going out.” 

“Yes, there’s alcohol,” Kurt confirmed. 

He told Blaine they’d need at least two drinks into Santana before they brought up performing to her. Which proved true. After nursing two long island ice teas, Santana was finally talking to Blaine about being on stage. He hadn’t gone up yet and she was teasing him.

“Come on, you brought your own instrument and everything,” she said. “Give us a show and tell.” 

With that, Blaine stood up and walked to the stage. No one was in line so he went right up after the juggler finished. He tapped the microphone and introduced himself.

“I’d like to dedicate this first one to my boyfriend.” 

He mouthed an “I love you” towards Kurt, who blew a kiss back. 

Then, he was lost in the strings. The next song he did was for Santana. Blaine didn’t announce it or anything but he watched her face when he could during the progression of the song. When he finished his set, Blaine thanked the audience. Kurt whistled and clapped, Rachel was jumping up and down while screaming for an encore, and when Blaine was back at the table Santana offered to buy him a drink. 

Without Kurt even realizing it, the next performer on stage was Santana. Just her. She didn’t introduce herself as Blaine did, the piano music just started to play and then she was singing. 

“What do you sing on your drive home?

Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn?

Does she smile?

Or does she mouth, ‘Fuck you forever’?” 

Kurt couldn’t say why exactly but the song suited her well. Santana was always one to command an audience when she soloed. Soft instrumental with harsher lyrics was always her style. 

While Santana had the audience and Kurt captivated, Blaine bounced back over to their table. He had two drinks in his hand. 

“For you,” he said, passing Kurt a mojito. 

In return, Kurt pecked his check. He really was so lucky. Then, his full attention went back to the stage. 

 “Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy

What about that?

And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry

And there's nothing like a mad woman

What a shame she went mad

No one likes a mad woman

You made her like that”

 As Santana finished her song, Kurt and Rachel turned to Blaine, who was positively beaming. He’d done exactly what he had told Kurt he could do. 

“How?” Rachel asked. 

“I’m a smooth talker,” Blaine said with a smirk. 

Kurt rolled his eyes.

 If anything, his boyfriend was a clumsy mess. Romantic and adorable? Yes. Tripped over his words? Constantly. 

“Come on, Blaine, give it up,” Kurt said. 

“Magicians never reveal their secrets.” 

Rachel huffed. She had a glint in her eyes suggesting she wasn’t giving up. Rachel rarely did when she really wanted something. Kurt had a theory that she could pester anyone enough to get what she wanted. Example A, a ticket to NYADA by tracking down the head of admissions and inviting her to Chicago to watch a show choir competition.  

Before Kurt could tell Rachel to drop it, Santana returned. She had a new drink in her hand. 

“Compliments of the lady in red,” she told them. 

“Excellent song choice,” Kurt said.

“Blaine’s idea.” she shrugged, sipping her drink. 

Blaine was still beaming. 

“It’s perfect for her, isn’t it?” Blaine replied, “When I first heard it I knew I had to hear Santana do a cover of it.” 

Santana winked at him from across the table. 

“What is going on with you two?” Rachel asked. “The devil incarnate and the sun from teletubbies should not get along this well.” 

Santana shrugged. “He’s besties with Britt.” 

“It’s true.” Blaine nodded.  “She even called us the Sunshine Twins.” 

Kurt’s eyes drift to Blaine’s—his—yellow pants. “Yeah, that fits.” 

[victorie552onepiecespeedrun]

Reading One Piece pt 251: Eleven Supernovas

Chapter 498

Thoughts:

- Chapter title: “The Eleven Supernovas” supernova? I think I read it before?

- Fpos/cs: Blueno and Wolf Man are performing too :) people like it! They’re getting money

- Ok, I’m ready to be mad, to the chapter

- Did I miss something? Luffy and the bois are already punching people

- Ah, bounty hunters

- It’s the third group of them? Already!? damn

- Hachi’s explaining things again

- Nifty

- (gray areas are practically lawless, that’s where they’re at)

- Beaten bounty hunters figured they got to catch at least one of Straw Hats (that’s what happens when your bounty is high :) )

- Finally, at coating shop

- “Rip-off Bar” lol

- “Is Rayleigh or Shakky here?” *opens door to a beating*

- Well, Shakky sure is here. Her and Hachi are friends :)

- Tea time

- Lol, bois already helped themselves to all the food in the building :D

- It’s getting interesting here. Shakky is asking Straw Hats about Enies Lobby (she heard of them obviously). She wants details

- “Monkey D. Luffy… You have the same name as Garp, the naval officer.” “Oh that’s cuz he’s my grandpa!” no hesitation, haha

- “Shakky used to be a pirate.” “That was 40 years ago” wow, really? That would make her like, what, around 60, right? I wouldn’t give you anything over 35, madam

- Rayleigh the Coating Man isn’t at the shop. She says to go look for him

- He wasn’t at the shop in 6 months??? How does he live?

- “When he’s not in lawless land, he likes Sabaody Park” ok, we know where to go now :D

- “There are 11 people with bounties of over 100 million on the island.” Huh, so that’s what Supernova means

- “That many!?” hah

- “Monkey and Roronoa make two. There are 9 others?!” Zoro mention! By the way, I hope he’s safe. He IS strong but he’s also lost and alone on this point

- I think Luffy actually takes this seriously

- “It isn’t often that the world’s rookie pirates all show up here at the same time” WE’RE GETTING BATTLE ROYALE FOLKS

- “Kid, Luffy, Hawkins, Drake, Law…” I saw all of these names, I’ll finally meet these people and get what’s all the hype about!!! I can’t wait!

- “You’ve got the second highest bounty on your head!” huh? Only second? Who’s the first?

- Place change, we’re with some guy who really looks like first 5 minutes of Supernatural. Bye, 138 Million Guy (Capone)

- That Lady looks like she would die just after everyone thought the case is solved. Bye, 140 Million Lady (Bonney)

- “Magician” Basil Hawkins. Hm. He could survive few episodes, I think, very distinct look to him, and mentioned by Shakky. He’s also worth 249 Million, so there’s that

- “Killing is unlucky for me today” …is he a Tarot man or what

- Fight?

- Fight!

- Eustass “Captain” Kid, 315 Million. Oh boy, he’s the one higher than Luffy. Mentioned AND was on the Volume’s cover (Secondary character who fights a good fight for main character status but never Really gets one. I call it Crowley Route)

- And some Guy who’s dying right now, I think (Apoo, 198 Million)

- Another fight!

- “Red Flag” X. Drake, 222 Million. X.!? Should I flip off like with the D. mystery!? (Secondary character, happy to be one)

- Urouge, 108 Million (One-time bad guy)

- “Murder Machine” Killer, 162 Million. Lol, what a name. And finally someone who’s not a captain, everyone else was (Reoccurring villain)

- AND LAW!!! HEY MAN! (200 Million. Secondary character everyone wants to be main character! Or maybe he’s already a main character? Lawlu is strong in this fandom. Going full Castiel)

- Looks like Drake and Law already met

- Is that everyone? Yeah, it is! Damn, everyone’s a Captain except Killer and Zoro, lol

- Back to coating shop

- “The Grand Line is a giant tournament, a test of survival” we kinda noticed

- “The Pirates who made it here are truly a select few, an elite.” Why thank you

- “The reason Captain Kid’s bounty is higher than yours is because his crew slaughters and pillages innocent people.” …really? Why he’s so popular then?

- Luffy really is just happy to be here :D

- “It the town is that dangerous… is the coating guy gonna be okay?” huh, good question

- “He’s one of us so he’ll be fine.” Ok

“He’s about a hundred times stronger than you boys” WHAT  

rOP 250  rOP 252

[thewidowstanton]

The Widow’s best of 2020

Well… during a year when we haven’t been able to see many live shows we’ve still managed to find lots of things we loved. Here are some of them; live shows are indicated, otherwise we watched them online – our grateful thanks go to all the companies that streamed their productions for free – listened to them or read them. You’ll notice that our list includes lots of women and the occasional man.

But before that we start with a new category…

PERSON OF THE YEAR: Circus director Carol Gandey (pictured) of Gandeys Circus. If UK touring circus – an artform championed by The Widow’s Liz Arratoon for more than 25 years – is to survive Covid-19, it will be in large part to her. Gandeys had produced three shows before the UK’s March lockdown, two of which never had a chance to open, incurring hundreds of thousands of pounds in costs. It then provided accommodation and living expenses for 33 stranded artists, and meanwhile developed an air-flow working model for circus – trialling an opening at Butlins – which gave the government enough confidence to allow circuses to reopen with reduced seating capacities.  

Carol constantly lobbied the government and the Arts Council for aid – as did other industry figures – and her application to the Arts Council Recovery Fund, which was said to be exceptional, resulted in a £1.1 million grant; the largest amount awarded to any UK circus company. Gandeys used some of the money to cover the losses due to the lockdown, and to fund a survival package that included some reduced-capacity performances this autumn, as well as funding the production costs for reopening in 2021.

From one strong and inspirational woman to another…

BEST EXTRAVAGANZA: Rhianna’s Savage X Fenty Volume 2 TV special for her lingerie range. Wow! What a mix! This was an explosion of creativity; part fashion show, part dance show, part gig, part circus, part ad, and included a simply stunning floral set. Add a cast of big names, a wonderfully diverse choice of dancers and models, no expense had been spared. Exciting, fresh and really impressive.

BEST LIVE SHOW: Zebra, a solo show by juggling genius Wes Peden, which was part of the London International Mime Festival at the Southbank Centre’s Purcell Room.

BEST CIRCUS SHOW: The really inventive CAPAS by Circo Eia (pictured) – so great to see so many new ideas, and here’s our chat with cast member Francesca Lissia. Plus the intricate and dazzling Twenty Twenty by Gandini Juggling. 

BEST DANCE SHOW: Faust by the Ballets de Monte-Carlo, featuring the spectral Bernice Coppieters (pictured) as Death; and Cia de Dança Deborah Colker’s super-stylish Belle, inspired by the novel Belle de Jour.

BEST KIDS’ SHOW: Little Angel Theatre’s hat trilogy, presented by puppeteer Ian Nicholson; an adaptation of the picture books by Jon Klassen: I Want My Hat Back, This Is Not My Hat and We Found a Hat.

BEST COSTUME: The Widow has always considered costumes to be extremely important. As Federico Fellini said: “Don’t forget that costumes, like dreams, are symbolic communication,” and frankly we wish more artists would make the sort of effort Dua Lipa made on Saturday Night Live!

Staying with costumes… slightly less glamorous, but an effort was made by Hot Mess in party-sketch work-in-progress Dirty Stop Outs.

MOST EXCITING: Meeting Marina Abramović in the foyer at London’s Barbican before the Efterklang gig.

BEST SHOWGIRLS: Seen in the 1972 film Un Flic; costumes by Colette Baudot. Also featured is a stunning black dress, worn by Catherine Deneuve, designed by Yves Saint Laurent.

BEST BURLESQUE: Lady of Burlesque, starring Barbara Stanwyck, who wears costumes by the great Edith Head.

BEST FILM CREDITS: Sudden Fear, starring Joan Crawford as a scorned – but impeccably dressed – woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown! 

BEST CASTAWAY: Hard to choose between Rupert Everett, Ian Wright or Daniel Radcliffe, who all washed up on BBC Radio 4′s Desert Island Discs.

BEST SHOWBIZ STORY: Catherine Russell – on Outlook, BBC Radio 4 – who has played the same role for 32 years and said the same lines more than 13,000 times. She holds the world record for the most theatre performances in the same role; Margaret Thorne Brent – a psychiatrist who might also be a cold-blooded killer – in the off-Broadway play Perfect Crime.

BEST TV SERIES: It was a close call with The Queen’s Gambit, but our choice is the utterly brilliant My Brilliant Friend; the adaptation of Elena Ferrante’s series of Neapolitan novels. 

BEST DOCUMENTARY: The Bee Gees – How Can You Mend a Broken Heart.

BEST CABARET PIC: The ever-lovely Eve Ferret at the Crazy Coqs in London. Picture: @marc_t_albert 

BEST SHOWBIZ MEMOIR: John Cooper Clarke’s I Wanna Be Yours.

BEST SHOWBIZ BIOGRAPHY: Jon Gresham: The Life and Adventures of a Sideshow Showman, Fire-Eater and Magician by Edwin A Dawes, Pat Gresham and Jon Marshall. This is a painstakingly detailed and enthralling account of Gresham’s life, lovingly compiled by his widow and friends from material written by Gresham himself. Want one? Details below.

BEST SHOWBIZ AUTOBIOGRAPHY: The heartbreaking Everything and Nothing: The Dorothy Dandridge Tragedy by Dorothy Dandridge and Earl Conrad. The revealing autobiography of Hollywood’s first African-American sex symbol and screen legend.

BEST GIG: Sevdaliza’s only show this year, streamed live from The Hague's Koninklijke Schouwburg (Royal Theatre) to a global audience.

BEST SONG: Désormais by Charles Aznavour, which was used as the title track for the film Chambre 212 or On a Magical Night.

BEST ALBUM COVER: Charles Aznavour’s Désormais. That hat!

MOST CHARMING: The sheep invasion during Isabella Rossellini’s show Sex and Consequences, which was streamed live from her farm in Bellport, Long Island, USA. Yes, her live sheep! 

BEST TWITTER CIRCUS PIC: The stunning Crystal Pyramids by Severus posted by @PablosCircus.

BEST LIVE COMEDY: Myra Dubois – star of Britain’s Got Talent – at The Poodle Club in Sydenham. Some of us recognised the greatness of Rotherham’s finest before she was famous!

GONE TOO SOON: Actor Chadwick Boseman (pictured) at just 43, funnymen Eddie Large, Tim Brooke Taylor and Bobby Ball, and dancer, choreographer and actor Ann Reinking.

MOST MISSED: Davenports magic shop that closed at the end of January – but you luckily can still order from it online – and a more recent casualty, after 96 years, London’s beautiful Café de Paris.

MOST DISAPPOINTING: Madonna’s Madame X show at the London Palladium. Goodness, this was shoddy! She was so incapacitated that she simply marked all the dance moves and had to be helped around the set, and up and down the stairs. The tickets were exorbitantly expensive and no one paid to see someone hobbling about onstage. We paid to see Madonna!

But let’s not end on a sour note…

BEST SHOWBIZ MASK: Shirley Bassey’s fabulous sequinned number!

REASONS TO BE CHEERFUL: Some things we’re looking forward to include:  The 45th London International Mime Festival, which will be screening free-to-view videos of shows from past LIMF editions, running an extended workshop series with live and online classes, and hosting a series of talks.

We’re also awaiting the new series of Call My Agent, which starts on Netflix on 21 January 2021.

And, last but by no mean least, one of the world’s truly funny clowns, Gloria – also known as Mooky Cornish – has been busy training her chickens – Kukuruzza (pictured top), who has been taking piano lessons, and the athletic Galina – and will be touring the Canadian prairies with them next summer. Now that’s something we’d love to see! Picture: Nichole Huck

Better days ahead!

*Jon Gresham book is available via PayPal from jon@magiccarpettheatre.com: P&P incl, UK – £25, EU – £30, USA tracked – $52

[myhauntedsalem]

Ghosts of Hollywood

Marilyn Monroe The Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard is said to be the current residence of several ghosts of popular film stars. Marilyn Monroe, the glamorous and funny star of such pictures as Some Like It Hot and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, was a frequent guest of the Roosevelt at the height of her popularity. And although she died in her Brentwood home, her image has been seen on several occasions in a full-length mirror that once hung in her poolside suite. The mirror has been relocated to the hotel's lower level by the elevators.

Montgomery Clift Another respected star who died before his time, Montgomery Clift, was a four-time Oscar nominated actor who is best known for his roles in A Place in the Sun, From Here to Eternity and Judgment at Nuremberg. His ghost has also been seen at the Roosevelt. According to some of the hotel's staff, Clift's spirit haunts room number 928. Clift stayed in that suite in 1953, pacing back and forth, memorizing his lines for From Here to Eternity. Loud, unexplained noises have been heard coming from the empty suite, and its phone is occasionally found mysteriously off the hook.

Perhaps it's fitting that the Hollywood Roosevelt should be the stirring place of celebrity ghosts since it was the site of the very first Academy Awards ceremony in 1929. In fact, the Blossom Ballroom, where the ceremony was held, has an unexplained cold spot - a circular area measuring 30 inches in diameter that remains about 10 degrees colder than the rest of the room.

Harry Houdini Houdini is best known as a magician and escape artist, of course, but at the height of his fame he was also drawn to Hollywood, where he made a handful of silent films from 1919 to 1923. With such titles as The Man from Beyond and Haldane of the Secret Service (which he also directed), the films were not regarded well enough to give him much of a Hollywood career. Houdini's interest in the occult was well known, and although he earned a reputation as a masterful debunker of séances, he earnestly sought contact with those who have passed on to the other side. Shortly before his death, Houdini made a pact with his wife Bess that if he could, he would return and make contact with her from the other side. Perhaps he truly has attempted to return. Some claim to have seen the ghost of the great Houdini walking around in the home he owned on Laurel Canyon Blvd. in the Hollywood Hills. Film historians Laurie Jacobson and Marc Wanamaker, in their book Hollywood Haunted, dispute this story, saying that "Houdini most likely never even set foot in the Laurel Canyon mansion he is said to haunt."

Clifton Webb Clifton Webb was a very popular star of the 1940s and '50s, earning two Oscar nominations for his roles in Laura and The Razor's Edge. He may be best known for his portrayal of Mr. Belvedere in a series of films. It's not too often that a ghost haunts the place in which the person is buried, but this seems to be the case for Webb. His ghost has been seen at the Abbey of the Psalms, Hollywood Memorial Cemetery, where his body is interred. But it seems to be a restless spirit, as his ghost has also been encountered at his old home on Rexford Drive in Beverly Hills.

Thelma Todd Thelma Todd was a hot young star in the 1930s. She was featured in a number of hit comedies with the likes of The Marx Brothers, Laurel and Hardy, and Buster Keaton. But that all ended in 1935 when Todd was found dead in her car, which was parked above the café she owned on the Pacific Coast Highway. Strangely, her death was ruled an accidental suicide, but many suspected murder and a coverup by powerful Hollywood figures. The building that once housed the café is now owed by Paulist Productions, and employees have reportedly witnessed the starlet's ghost descending the stairs.

Thomas Ince Ince is considered one of the visionary pioneers of American movies. He was one of the most respected directors of the silent era, best known, perhaps, for his westerns starring William S. Hart. He partnered with other early Hollywood giants such as D.W. Griffith and Mack Sennett, and founded Culver Studios, which later became MGM. Ironically, Ince's death overshadowed his film legacy. He died aboard William Randolph Hearst's yacht in 1924, and although the official record shows the cause of death as heart failure, the hot rumor is that he was shot by Hearst in a fit a jealousy over Hearst's wife, Marion Davies. Ince's ghost - as well as several other ghostly figures - have been seen in the lot that was once Culver Studios. Film crew members have seen the specter of a man matching Ince's description on several occasions; in one instance, when the workers tried to speak to the spirit, it turned and disappeared through a wall.

Ozzie Nelson Ghosts and hauntings are the last thing that come to mind when you think of the perpetually cheerful Ozzie and Harriet Nelson. The couple, with their real-life sons Ricky and David, were stars of the long-running sitcom "Ozzie and Harriet," noted for its good-natured, gentle humor. Yet poor Ozzie doesn't seem to be as contented in the afterlife. Family members, it is said, have seen Ozzie's ghost in the family's old Hollywood home, and it always appears to be in a somber mood. Perhaps he's unhappy about how another Ozzy and his family have gained notoriety on TV.

George Reeves From 1953 to 1957, George Reeves was TV's Superman. Reeves had been around Hollywood for a while, playing bit parts in such films as Gone with the Wind and dozens of B-movies, but it was "The Adventures of Superman" on TV that brought him fame. Reeves died of a gunshot at his home in 1959. The official cause of death was suicide, but that conclusion has been hotly disputed, with some believing that Reeves was murdered. Whether it was suicide or murder, Reeves ghost has been seen in his Beverly Hills home. A couple claims to have seen the ghost of Reeves - decked out in his Superman costume - materialize in the bedroom where he died, after which it slowly faded away. Others believe that Reeves succumbed to the "Superman curse," in which those associated with the fictional character over the years allegedly have met with disaster or death. But is there really a curse? 

More Celebrity Ghosts

Rudolph Valentino - This silent film heartthrob has been seen in the bedroom and stables of his old Hollywood home. Jean Harlow - The spirit of this blonde bombshell is said to haunt the bedroom of her home on North Palm Drive, where her husband allegedly used to beat her. Mary Pickford - This legend of the silent era - actress, writer and producer - was co-founder of United Artists with her husband Douglas Fairbanks and Charlie Chaplin. Comic Buddy Rogers, who lived in the house Pickford once owned, saw her ghost appear in a white ruffled dress. Grace Kelly - Princess Stephanie of Monaco believes that the ghost of her mother, Grace Kelly, helped her write a song from the spirit world.

Celebrities Who Have Seen Ghosts

Nicholas Cage - This Oscar-winning actor (Leaving Las Vegas) refused to stay in uncle Francis Ford Coppola's home after seeing a ghost in the attic. (Cage was also cast as Superman in director Tim Burton's film project, which was never made.) Keanu Reeves - The star of The Matrix films and Devil's Advocate was just a kid in New Jersey when he saw a ghost that took the form of a white double-breasted suit come into his room one night. He wasn't imagining it; his nanny saw the phantom, too. Neve Campbell - She's been in more than her share of paranormal-themed movies (The Craft, Scream), but she's had real-life encounters as well. A woman was murdered in the house she now lives in, and friends have seen her ghost walking around. Matthew McConaughey - This popular actor (Contact) says he freaked out the first time he saw the ghost of an old woman, whom he calls "Madame Blue," floating around his house. Tim Robbins - Robbins, who was nominated for an Oscar in Mystic River, didn't see ghosts, but strongly felt their presence when he moved into an apartment in 1984. Following his instinct, he moved out the next day. Hugh Grant - British romantic comedy lead Hugh Grant (Love Actually) says he and friends have heard the wailing and screaming of some tormented spirit in his Los Angeles home. He even speculates it might be the ghost of a former resident - Bette Davis. Dan Aykroyd - The Ghostbusters star (and Oscar-nominated for Driving Miss Daisy) has long had a fascination with the paranormal. He believes his home, once owned by Cass Elliot of The Mamas and The Papas, is haunted. "A ghost certainly haunts my house," he said. "It once even crawled into bed with me. The ghost also turns on the Stairmaster and moves jewelry across the dresser. I'm sure it's Mama Cass because you get the feeling it's a big ghost." Sting - Rock star Sting (Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels) and his wife Trudie have seen ghosts in their home. "I was absolutely terrified," he said. "I now believe those things are out there, but I have no explanation for them." Jean Claude Van Damme - The Belgian action star (Timecop), also known as "Muscles from Brussels," swears he saw a ghost in his bathroom mirror while he was brushing his teeth. Richard Dreyfuss - He won an Oscar for The Goodbye Girl, but at one time had a cocaine problem. Visions of a ghost, he said, helped him kick the habit. "I had a car crash in the late 1970s," Dreyfuss said, "when I was really screwed up, and I started seeing these ghostly visions of a little girl every night. I couldn't shake this image. Every day it became clearer and I didn't know who the hell she was. Then I realized that kid was either the child I didn't kill the night I smashed up my car, or it was the daughter that I didn't have yet. I immediately sobered up." Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman - This Hollywood couple was forced to flee their "dream home" in Sneden's Landing, N.Y. when it became all too apparent that it was haunted. They still are reluctant to talk about their frightening encounters. Belinda Carlisle - This pop singer and founding member of The Go-Gos, who appeared in Swing Shift and She's Having a Baby, says she saw a "misty shape" hovering over her as she lay in bed one night. She also says that when she was 17, while nodding off to sleep in a chair in her parents' home, she levitated and had an out-of-body experience. Elke Sommers - This German-born actress, who appeared in the 1966 film The Oscar, claims to have seen the ghost of a middle-aged man in a white shirt in her home in North Beverly Hills. Guests in her home have also seen the specter. So much paranormal activity was reported in the house that the American Society for Psychical Research was brought in, and which verified the unexplained events. The severely haunted house was bought and sold more than 17 times since Sommers vacated it, and many have reported ghostly phenomena. Paul McCartney - Ex-Beatle and Oscar-nominated songwriter ("Live and Let Die") says that he, George Harrison and Ringo Starr sensed the playful spirit of John Lennon when they were recording Lennon's song, "Free As A Bird" in 1995. "There were a lot of strange goings-on in the studio - noises that shouldn't have been there and equipment doing all manner of weird things. There was just an overall feeling that John was around."

[seapandora]

Sky High, Part 2

Part 1

Steve x fem!reader

A/N: So here is part 2 of Sky High. A little more dialougue and we´re gonna get to know more characters and such as we go. I loved writing up the end of this chapter, and I´m looking forward to more. @buckysknifecollection​

Of course, GIF-credit to owner!

Warnings: Swearing (I swear a lot, okay), sexual innuendos (later chapters), alcohol, mentions of death/killing, mentions of religion(s)

Words: 2020

Y/N – your name

Y/H/N – your hair colour

Y/E/C – your eye colour

The Captain and James had stayed away from Y/N, which was good for them of course. She had been in no mood to talk to anyone, especially not any demons. She had only stayed shortly at the bar before she got to the place where she was sleeping. As confusing as it may be, there are many worlds out there and space in between them, where only certain creatures can exist. These worlds and the space between them have many names. Realm is a common name for them, and for this purpose, it fits quite well. Heaven was a realm. Hell too. Earth was also its own realm. Quite confusing for sure.

Natashas´ bar was in a realm called Wi. Technically Natasha was the ruler of that realm and she decided who could get in and who couldn’t. She had made it a safe-haven for angels and demons and the two species were also the only two that could get in. Y/N never slept in Wi. She trusted Natasha, but she didn’t trust the others who passed through, which is why she was now staying in the realm of Rowor. The home of her beloved Sofwas. They were the only species in their realm, and the elder wouldn’t let just anybody in. Their system of entry was based on runes. Runes you either got from the Sofwas or obtained “illegally”.

Y/N now had her personalized rune from the Sofwas, but the first time she was supposed to visit their realm she had to go to the brothers to get her rune. She loved the brothers. The blonde, beefy one was loud and was always making jokes, while his brother, the tall raven-haired magician was quiet and brooding. No matter what mood Y/N was in she could find someone to talk to between the two brothers. They also happened to have rune magic. That means they know runes and which allows you to travel there. It´s mostly an in-and-out rune, to get you to a realm and back. They weren´t cheap, luckily Y/N wasn’t paying for it herself. The Lady was, even if The Lady didn’t quite know what she was paying for.

You see, rune magic isn´t exactly legal… runes were supposed to be sacred and only known by the keeper of the realms. Of course, that had never worked, and smuggling was a big part of some species' survival. In that case, they needed runes, and the illegal market was the only option. The brothers were the only ones dealing with runes. They were gods and Y/Ns boss Maria, couldn’t exactly do anything about them. Their names you ask, well I think you know. Thor and Loki of course.

Y/Ns personalized rune had left her not having to interact with the brothers lately and she sort of missed them. They were the closest to friends she could have. Sure the other angels, but they were family. It was different. She would have to visit them soon enough if she only knew where they were at the moment. Oh well, that was a well-rested Y/Ns problem for tomorrow. Now she needed sleep among the Sofwas. Sofwas were tactile creatures, and Y/N didn’t mind as she appreciated their company and was the being they prayed to. She would do anything for them, they kept her alive, after all.

The Sofwas happily met up with her as she came across the bridge to the little town where they lived. They climbed up her legs, being only 2 inches tall, and hung on to her arms and shoulders as they showed her pictures of their day. Showed their pictures as in how Reneesme does it in Breaking Dawn part 2, only cooler. It was a little hard to keep the stories separated but Y/N managed quite well. She had known them all for a long time and could recognize them on the pattern they showed pictures in. They were non-verbal but understood her when she spoke to them.

Sofwalings, young Sofwas, asked Y/N about her latest adventures and whether she was staying for a long time. Y/N couldn´t talk about her missions and she wasn’t sure how long she could stay. She wanted to stay forever. It was the closest she had to a home. Y/N was lead by the sofwalings to the most central house in the village where the old Lady of the town came out to greet them. Y/N fell to her knees immediately and stretched out her two hands for the lady to climb upon. The other sofwas jumped off her as a sign of respect. Y/N brought her hands to her face and let the lady place her small hands on Y/Ns forehead. She was shown pictures of food, a bed, and a sunset and she smiled softly.

“Madam. I thank you, with all of my being for your kindness. It shall be an honor to stay here.” Y/N said softly. She had the voice of an angel but only used it in Rowor. The Sofwas cheered and Y/N gently sat the madam down on the ground and helped her back to her little house. Y/N herself was led to the outskirts where they had set up a canopy made from beige linen over a well-padded mattress with pillows. It was all to size for Y/N, of course. It was the sight where they would worship Y/N and the peace she brings.

Laid out on a table were food and drinks for her. She truly felt appreciated and cared for. She thanked the Sofwa´s who had guided her and sat down by the table to eat. She ate in her loneliness, but it had never bothered her. She wasn´t exactly a creature with needs and hence didn’t need social contact to feel okay or survive. She didn’t necessarily need food either, but her Wessel worked better if she got food and sleep.

A burning sensation in her left hand startled her but she quickly realized it was Maria wishing to come in contact with her. Angels often called it the scorching mark, but Y/N called it an annoyance. She looked at her hand and let out a loud groan as she saw it was the rune for the realm which held Earth, Midgard. She decided to ignore it for now and finished up her meal. She cleaned up after herself with a quick wave of her hand before she headed over to the mattress.

Y/N laid down and looked up at the canopy. She flicked her hand again and the scene above her changed into the Crab Nebula. Y/N didn’t know a lot about what humans called astrology but she liked colors and she liked the peaceful nature of the big, quiet space, that they all were a part of, even if they were in different realms. She fell asleep under the stars and forgot all about Marias' mission and humans.

Angels don´t dream. Well, they don’t until they find their one, their soulmate. Y/N didn’t believe in soulmates. She had lived for many lifetimes and yet hadn´t found hers. What was the point in that, she often asked herself, if she did indeed have a soulmate. Why was she supposed to wait for millennia for hers? It sucked. But again, she didn’t believe it… she didn’t have to bother with it, so why did another dreamless night bother her.

She sat up wide awake to silence that was suitable for a realm in which the inhabitants communicated by pictures instead of words. Y/N rubbed at her eyes and groaned softly to herself as she tried to rub the tiredness away. She wanted more sleep. She stretched her arms upward and checked her palm. The sign was still there and Y/N knew she had to handle it. It was her job, her sentence, her punishment.

Midgard…  Y/Ns personal hell. We´ve been through this. Y/N hates humans and earth. She got herself ready for transportation. The place that came to her mind was Española Way in Miami, which meant that was where her mission was. She groaned to herself but transferred there without fuzz. Maria could at least have ruined a street like Hollywood Boulevard for Y/N, instead of THE food-street of Miami Beach.

The landing wasn’t a pleasant experience, at least not for those around. Angels landed in bolts of lightning and were always accompanied by thunderstorms and hard rain. It didn’t hurt the angel but could scare anyone around them. To some extent, the angel could adjust the effects of their landing. Y/N, for example, concentrated to not land with thunder when she landed in Rowor. On earth, it was a very different thing. Y/N landed with it all, that way she could scare whoever her mission was and make them an easier target. That’s what she did now.

And there she was. The mission. A woman in her 30s was watching Y/N, whos hair was flowing in the aftermath of the lightning. Y/ns eyes were also shining blue, she stood out from the crowd. Exactly her point. The woman began to run. Y/N followed her at a slower pace. She would catch up, and she was in no rush.

~ four hours later ~

“Hello!” Y/N said as Lorraine entered the apartment she had been renting for the past few months. “I´ve heard you´ve been a little busy… trading angels and weapons… Care to explain yourself before I zap you outta here?” Y/N asked and smiled sweetly as she cleaned her nails with her angel-blade. “Not that I care, I´ll zap you either way.” She continued and shrugged as she looked at the terrified Lorraine.

“Oh… You didn’t expect your maker to come after you, did you? Well, let me tell you a little secret. She doesn’t like it when you trade with her angels, and weapons that can kill her. She doesn’t like it when you go against her word.” Y/N whispered as she made her way over to Lorraine.

Lorraine stepped back, still too afraid to speak. Y/N sighed softly, “No? You don’t want to talk? That’s too bad, I was hoping you´d be up for a chat.” She said and quickly pierced Lorraine´s body with the blade. “Why do you all have to be so very boring.” She groaned and looked down at the body which was now laying in front of her on the floor.

Y/N looked up as she heard someone step through the door. It was a tall, blonde, man, well demon. It was The Captain. “What are you doing here?” She asked and grabbed her blade from Lorraines' body as she got ready for an attack. “You killed the human?!? What´s wrong with you angels always killing and never asking questions?” The Captain all but screamed at her. “Jesus, you woke up on the wrong side.” She said and frowned a bit. “Maria wanted her, I´m just following orders, now if you´ll excuse me I have to get this soul to her for interrogation.” Y/N said and bent down by the body ready to transfer to wherever Maria was.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t quick enough. She felt The Captain grab hold of her arm and looked up as they both transferred away. Now, transfers aren´t supposed to work with two `living` creatures. They had to transfer on their own. Y/N had never transferred with another before and it wasn’t pleasant.

Y/N recoiled and she landed on her back with a thud. It was light but cold. She was on some sort of gravel and she groaned as she sat up and looked over to see The Captain on his back. She was hoping the transfer had harmed him as much as it had hurt her, or more. She grabbed her angel blade and made herself ready. She looked around a bit and audibly groaned with annoyance as she didn’t see the body of Lorraine anywhere.

The Captain had not only hurt her, but he had also made Y/N fail a mission for the first time. She was going to enjoy killing the demon she now had in front of her.

[elhoimleafar]

HEY YOU !! Here some love, magic, reviews, and Manifestation. (and Thanks in advance for Sharing if you can)....

Well, it is no secret that this Mercury Retrograde in Gemini (we have to blame someone, right?) Is pressing more than normal, or so it seems, and when communication channels fail, everything can happen, on the other hand, between the summer solstice and the full moon that is forming, there a quite unexpected energy push, so based on that, this was not very surprising.

"Manifestation Magic: 21 Rituals, Spells, and Amulets for Abundance, Prosperity, and Wealth", the paperback edition is available from this week (yes, I know, almost three weeks before expected) on Amazon and in many of your favorite physical stores. 

So for all those who pre-ordered, the book should be arriving in the next few days.The digital edition (ebook/kindle) will be available on July 1, yay, the audiobook edition (courtesy of Tantor Audio) in the amazing Bill Andrew Quinn's voice will be available soon for sure.

SO NOW !! Suppose that you are not yet convinced to order your copy of "Manifestation Magic", because, you have no intention of learning something new, perhaps you have no interest in changing your mindset, in healing your personal relationship with money and abundance, in receive with open arms all that the universe has prepared for you, in embracing all that the world has to offer you, etc, etc, etc... OK, here below I leave you some reviews of your favorite authors, and also, the links to order your copy.

~ Reviews ~

"Manifestation Magic: 21 Rituals, Spells, and Amulets for Abundance, Prosperity, and Wealth is a remarkable and comprehensive guide to realizing one’s utmost desires of fruitfulness. Readers learns about the candles, crystals, entities, and lunar, solar and planetary energies that aid in manifesting abundance. The rituals are unique, and the suggested spells are outstanding."

― Miss Aida Author of Hoodoo Cleansing and Protection Magic.

“Get ready to manifest your best life with Elhoim Leafar's latest offering: Manifestation Magic! Leafar is a beaming light of positivity in the magical community and this comprehensive book is his torch for guiding others on their path. With a diverse and expansive approach to spellcasting and ritual, this book speaks to the modern magic makers of today -- showcasing the potently powerful means for tapping into the endless enchantment of the universe. I highly recommend this book for anyone looking to bewitch their lives with an abundance of magic!”.

― Michael Herkes Author of The GLAM Witch and The Complete Book of Moon Spells.

“Elhoim Leafar’s passion is conveyed abundantly in Manifestation Magic, as is his successful teaching style. As an initiate of the Art and a modern-day shaman, he brings to light a unique, powerful blend of spells and rituals for attracting wealth. Using visualization, candle magic, crystals, and prayers, he confidently guides readers into the realm of manifesting their desires.”

― Lawren Leo Author of Horse Magick and Dragonflame.

"Elhoim is among those we call 'wise ones' -- special souls who are highly attuned to the magic that exists all around us. His book Manifestation Magic is a huge download of profound magical wisdom that will shock you into knowing your own power, while gently and simply teaching you how to transform your existence step-by-step. Beginner magicians will feel supported, as they begin their journey into magic while experienced practitioners will be blown away by Elhoim's profound insights. I refer to this book often and recommend it to anyone who wants to truly master the art of manifestation."

― Madame Pamita Author of Madame Pamita's Magical Tarot and The Book of Candle Magic.

“Manifestation Magic is a thorough, yet approachable guide, suitable for beginners. Its exercises are refreshingly new and exciting, while Elhoim Leafar’s insights are always interesting. This is a great addition to any magickal library"

― Lilith Dorsey Author of Orishas, Goddesses, and Voodoo Queens.

"Elhoim shares a beautiful, compelling perspective on manifestation magic rooted in his personal practice, diverse studies, and experience growing up in a magical family in Venezuela. His poetic style will inspire and provides a vivid and welcome complement to the host of useful, practical information contained here. Manifestation Magic is a wonderful contribution to the field of practical magic."

― Durgadas Allon Duriel Author of The Little Work: Magic to Transform Your Everyday Life.

"True wisdom and knowledge are written within the pages of Manifestation Magic. Whether you are a beginner or have been practicing for years, you will get something from this book, or it will remind you of something you’ve forgotten about working with abundance. An easy read, the exercises are simple but powerful. This is a must-have for any practitioner’s library”.

― Amanda Keith & TJ Vancil owners of 3 Crows Conjure and Occult Master Class

“Manifestation Magic: 21 Rituals, Spells, and Amulets for Abundance, Prosperity, and Wealth is bursting with foundational knowledge for magical crafting, along with invaluable wisdom on the nature of courting the spirits of abundance in your life for long-lasting success. You’ll discover a full spectrum of magical practices that are rooted in tradition and years of personal practice. Elhoim Leafar truly displays the empowering qualities of magic as an art and way of life.”

― Shaheen Miro Author of Lunar Alchemy and The Uncommon Tarot.

"Elhoim Leafar has poured his heart and soul into Manifestation Magic. His pages are filled with unique perspectives from his experiences of magic as an urban shaman. This book is an intimate look into the practices of a magician who hails from Venezuela."

― Najah Lightfoot Author of Good Juju: Mojos, Rites & Practices for the Magical Soul.

“In Manifestation Magic, Elhoim Leafar offers a diverse, practical guide meant to help readers ‘achieve happiness, economic prosperity, and abundance through rituals and spells. The book provides brief overviews of astrology and planetary influences; how to arrange spells around days, times, and lunar phases, as well as deities associated with abundance and wealth. The author draws from a plethora of cultural sources and also helpfully touches on psychological barriers to obtaining wealth. Those interested in the magical power of ritual will find Leafar to be a sage guide.”

― Publishers Weekly

Links to order your Copy: 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1578637422/ 

Indiebound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781578637423

[miraworos]

Our Remedies Oft in Ourselves Do Lie (Rated T)

Ten days. It had been ten bloody days since Crowley and Aziraphale had fooled their respective head offices and celebrated at the Ritz. Ten days didn’t seem like a Hell of a lot, but when it was ten days added onto six thousand years of bleeding his heart dry with pining for his best friend, it was a sodding eon. 

And Crowley was literally bent out of shape about it. He couldn’t concentrate. He could barely look at Aziraphale without falling down for no apparent reason. His blasted legs would just stop working, and he’d have to brace himself as gracefully as possible against the nearest surface to make it look deliberate. Like he just wanted to lean. Flash bastard and all that. He couldn’t eat (which was fairly routine). He couldn’t sleep (which was categorically not). He was a bloody mess, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale was completely fine. Acting like not a bloody thing was different. All smiles and inviting Crowley in for a nightcap and calling him on the phone to arrange a visit to the new museum exhibit about Satan knew what. Crowley was so busy staggering into priceless artifacts and getting shouted at by security that he had no idea afterward what they’d even gone in to see. 

The point was, Aziraphale was normal, and Crowley was not. And he was fairly sure it had something to do with the uncontrollable lust-love-whatever-EMOTIONS that he couldn’t stop feeling for a certain angel now that Hell was no longer breathing down his neck.

Crowley had tried to stay away for a bit, get some distance between them, but the Bentley, and his phone, and even his own feet all conspired to take him straight to Aziraphale’s door no matter what he said about it. Crowley had then tried to pretend to himself that Hell was still in the picture, still watching his every move so that he dare not say anything to Aziraphale for fear of putting them both in danger again. All that had got him was a bad case of jump-out-of-his-skin paranoia and an outbreak of supremely attractive hives. So at last he had tried to actually address it with the angel--and the stuttering stream-of-consciousness drivel that fell out of his mouth merely led to a confused look and a sincere, if somewhat condescending, “Crowley, are you quite all right?” 

So. Now he was here. Because he was desperate. Because he had literally nowhere else to turn. Because Aziraphale happened to mention that the woman would be leaving town soon, and it had put the idea in his head. And, frankly, because he was a bloody idiot with zero chill.

He rang the bell first before reading the sign.

Madam Tracy, Sibyl to the Stars, By Appointment Only, DON’T RING THE BELL

“Bollocks,” Crowley swore, snapping his fingers.

Madam Tracy opened the door in a swirl of robes. She was wearing considerably less makeup than the last time Crowley had seen her, and was minus one ginger wig.

“Mr. Crowley,” she said, surprised. “It appears we had an appointment. I have no idea how I missed that in my diary this morning. Won’t you come in?”

“Obliged,” Crowley muttered as he followed her into a nearby sitting room.

“I’ll just get us some tea.”

As she bustled about in the kitchen, Crowley took in the tawdry fabrics, brass figurines, and crystal ball.

“Here we are,” she said kindly as she settled the cup onto the table in front of him. “What can I do for you, Mr. Crowley?”

“I need some sort of…” He waved his hand vaguely. “...hocus pocus. Something to tell me...what to do.”

“What to do about what, love?”

“I have a...a problem. I can’t be more specific.”

Madam Tracy raised an eyebrow that could either mean I know exactly what your problem is, you daft pillock, or I am only tolerating your brusque manner because you’re paying me. He didn’t give a blessing which it was. He just wanted someone to tell him what to do.

“Cards, then,” she said, picking up the crystal ball as if it weighed nothing (which was likely, since it was obviously made of plastic) and set it on the floor next to the table. Then she pulled a squarish, scarf-wrapped bundle from a pocket in her voluminous robes. She set the bundle on the table and untied the knot, folding out each corner of the scarf around a deck of Tarot cards.

After unwrapping the cards, she closed her eyes and folded her hands together, making some sort of hmming-hrrking noise in the back of her throat that did not sound particularly healthy, nor confidence-inducing. This had clearly been a Bad Idea.

Her eyes popped open like someone had pinched her arse. Then her features relaxed into her usual smile, and she started shuffling the cards. After a minute or two of shuffling and sorting with a sublime expression on her face, she laid the deck on the table in front of Crowley.

“Now, cut the deck in half whilst contemplating your question.”

Crowley did as he was told, though he very nearly took her literally and cut the cards into pieces out of spite.

“There, there,” she said, looking down at the cards rather than at him. “It will be alright. We’ll see what the cards have to say, hm?”

Crowley ground his teeth together and slumped loafishly in his chair. Profoundly. Stupid. Idea.

“Well, isn’t this interesting?” she said after she’d laid out a cross pattern of four cards.

“Interesting?” he said, leaning forward. Maybe she’d See something useful, though truthfully, it looked to him like a nine-year-old had gone to a Ren Fair, got a contact high from all the weed, and decided to draw silly pictures.

“Yes. You see this card here at the top? That’s the Seven of Wands, love, only it’s reversed. And in this position in the spread, it’s saying that you need to believe in yourself. You’re battle weary from a long, dark struggle. But you’ve persevered, haven’t you? You’ve made it. So hold to that belief as you’re dealing with your problem.”

Crowley harrumphed. Sounded like a bunch of garbage psychobabble to him. Though the part about the battle weariness was true, he supposed. He nodded for her to continue.

“This card here, the Knight of Cups, is telling you there’s a gallant man in your life that you need to propose to.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You need to propose, love.”

“Propose...like...marriage?”

Madam Tracy pursed her lips, looking at him as if he were being particularly thick. “Could be marriage. Could be an arrangement of sorts? The cards only reinforce what you already know.”

“Shows what good they are, then,” Crowley sniffed. “I know fuck all about anything.”

Tracy sighed heavily and took a sip of her tea.

“Wassat one?” Crowley said, indicating the card on the right. “I like that one. Pointy swords, girl all tied up. That looks like me.”

“Ah, yes. The Eight of Swords. But it’s reversed, love.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning you’re in a rut, and you need to use the strength we talked about with the Seven of Wands to dredge yourself out of it. You are your own worst enemy, dear. Getting in your own way all the time.”

“Huh, yeah, well… I resemble that remark, I suppose.”

“And this one is the most important card. It’s the What’s-Next card, you know. The Magician.”

“The Magician? Augh, really?” Crowley said, wrinkling his nose in disdain. Charlatans. Totally bamboozled Aziraphale last century. Crowley’d never cared for them since. “Can’t bloody stand magicians.”

“This one is special,” Tracy insisted. “This one is positive, quick-thinking, and inspiring. Harness that positive energy, and your problem will be resolved as if by magic.”

Crowley sat for a long moment--a long few moments, in point of fact--considering what Tracy, and the cards, had told him. On the one hand, they’d been vague and unhelpful. On the other hand, they’d been...hm...vague and unhelpful.

“Yeah, I don’t get it,” he said.

Tracy rolled her eyes to the ceiling, and said in an overly calm voice, “The cards are telling you to just kiss him already.”

Crowley, who’d decided for some silly reason to tilt his chair back at that particular moment, fell completely to the floor, knocking the table with his foot and sending tarot cards flying in every direction.

“What?” he squeaked, popping back up onto his feet as Tracy rose gracefully to hers.

“I said,” she began, taking a deep breath. “Just kiss him already, you ridiculous person. Saints preserve us, you are incredibly dense.”

Crowley gaped at her for a full minute in complete shock.

For her part, Tracy straightened her robes, and plastered her calm smile back into place.

“Thank you so much for coming, love. That’ll be eighty quid.”

Grumbling, Crowley paid her, and then sped the Bentley all the way back to the bookshop. 

Stupid cards, stupid fortune, stupid brain not knowing what to do. Tracy got one thing right: he couldn’t go back, and he couldn’t stay still. He had to do something or he’d end up like that girl all tied up and abandoned. And he had to admit that having his problems resolved as if by magic held a tremendous amount of appeal.

Maybe...maybe he should take Tracy’s advice. What was the worst that could happen? Okay, the worst that could happen is that he’d lose the love of his life and his best friend and any hope of happiness in this life or any other. Splendid.

He was still undecided about what he was actually going to do when he shoved open the door to the bookstore and called for the angel.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley whipped off his sunglasses. “Aziraphale, where are you?”

“Here, dear,” the angel said, calm as you please, standing at the top of the stairs to the flat he never used. “Whatever is the matter? You look positively disheveled.”

“Dish--? Ngh-- Angel, come down here.”

With an arched eyebrow that Crowley could see even from this distance, Aziraphale capitulated and walked steadily down the stairs towards him. Crowley’s legs wobbled treacherously while he waited, the shifty bastards.

As the angel’s feet touched the floorboards, he said, “Crowley, what could possibly be so--”

“I…” Crowley interrupted, but then stopped, words stuck in his throat.

“Yes?” Aziraphale said with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression.

“Fuck it,” Crowley said. 

He lurched forward and captured the angel’s face in his hands. He paused the length of a heartbeat, waiting for Aziraphale to pull back, to protest. But he didn’t protest--he slid his hand over Crowley’s wrist, gripping it softly, as if granting permission. So Crowley leaned that one inch further and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s, pouring into it all of the strength and faith and adoration and magic he felt for the one being he loved enough to stay and save the world for.

Crowley could barely feel his body for all the energy radiating between them as they kissed. And he wondered, for just a moment, if this was what it felt like to be discorporated. 

A full measure of euphoria later, Crowley pulled back to assess the angel’s reaction.

“Sorry,” he said huskily. “Should’ve asked first.”

But Aziraphale was smiling up at him without a trace of regret or worry. 

“The only apology I’ll accept is one for taking so damned long to kiss me in the first place,” he said, his smile turning smug.

Crowley gaped, speechlessly. “Wh-- You could have kissed me!”

“I suppose so,” the angel said, tracing a finger along Crowley’s jaw and gazing at him in a dreamy fashion that was causing havoc in Crowley’s lower extremities. “But sometimes an angel likes to be wooed. I have standards.”

Crowley scoffed. “Oh, oh, well, alright then. I suppose it was worth all the anguish I’ve suffered this last fortnight. You have standards, after all.”

“Mmm,” Aziraphale agreed, unfazed. “Anguished, were you?”

Crowley made a few inarticulate noises as the angel’s hand dropped from his face to stroke his hip. 

“I bet I can think of a few ways to console you,” he said, leaning in for another kiss.

Fuck, Crowley realized in that moment of neurons exploding in his corporeal brain, the cards were right. 

It was the last cogent thought he had for, frankly, an obscene amount of time.

* * *

The next afternoon, Aziraphale hummed to himself as he shelved a few books on the ancient art of divination from his section on human mysticism. Crowley had gone to get them something to nosh on, and just in time, too, for Aziraphale was positively famished from the previous night’s--and morning’s--activities. He’d need all the sustenance he could get to keep up with Crowley’s robust energy levels. Not that he was complaining. He had plans for later that evening, and he intended to see them through.

A knock at the door interrupted his ruminations. He set the books on a nearby stack and walked to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open, as he already knew who would be on the other side.

“Good day, love,” said Tracy with a brilliant smile. She was wearing a sedate cardigan and beige, knee-length skirt. “I hope everything went as expected last night.”

“Oh, yes. Very much so, thank you, my dear.”

“Always happy to help out a friend,” she said, winking at him. Then she held out her hand. “That’ll be eighty quid, love.”

Aziraphale pulled out his rarely used wallet and handed over the requested fee.

“Worth every penny,” he said, smiling.

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[holyfool-arcana]

The Holy Fool: Chapter 3

Hook, line, sinker

Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: Mentions of infant death and murder, implied sexual relationships,  Rating: M Description: An Arcana AU set in a Vesuvia that is half-noir and half-fantasy.

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Liuyin’s left ear had been both yelled off and pinched beyond sensation by the time Doctor Devorak returned, and they were pretty sure it was as red as a sunset by now. Luckily, Auntie Liya had grown weary of tormenting them for their impulsiveness and left to brew herself some tea in a huff, and Liuyin had retreated back into their own room, changing out of the funeral robes and veil, and into a casual set of clothing once more.

That extra layer of blazer made them feel better, like a suit of armor, and Liuyin had healed themselves up as well, a bit vexed by the lingering sting where their hair had hung over their ear.

Thus, Doctor Devorak was greeted by the sight of aunt and apprentice in the courtyard veranda, two cups of tea between them when he emerged from the autopsy and packed the baby back into its original bundle.

Liuyin smiles at him and gestures him to one of the stone benches-- Aunt Liya scoffed, rolled her eyes, and then begrudgingly produces a matching third teacup that had been tucked up her sleeve before pouring out some tea as well, Liuyin seemingly unperturbed by the judgemental airs as they steepled their fingers and turned to the auburn-haired man.

"The baby died in water. But it wasn't drowned this morning, and I also doubt it was drowned in the harbor," Liuyin says plainly.

The doctor blinked, frowned, and then stared at Liuyin, rather taken aback. "How did you figure out?"

Liuyin smirked internally-- they were only half-sure of their prognosis, with the rest being guesswork. "There's a certain smell to bodies found at sea, from the salt, and when I'd been holding onto it this morning, the body was already stiff as a board."

“And the drowning?” the doctor asks, admittedly with a bit too much excitement.

Liuyin had opened their mouth, most likely intending to tell them, before being cut off with a resounding smack to the table coming from the older woman.

"Liuyin," Aunt Liya interjected with a withering look between the two of them, knowing and probably resenting the fact her ward was enjoying the banter. "We don't speculate on the manner in which the bodies our clients bring to us died!" She admonishes.

Liuyin replied, nearly reflexively, “Sorry Auntie,” while not sounding very remorseful at all.

By clockwork, as if this were a dance they’d perfected by now, Aunt Liya had said in the vernacular dialect of Langya, “Silly child, we’ve seen so many dead, why the interest in this particular body?”

“You’re not curious at all, auntie?” Liuyin asked blithely, with that same sort of calculated shrewdness they’d exhibited at the docks. Be just vexing enough to get others to dismiss you, but not enough to want to harm you or arouse suspicion. It involved a fair amount of playing at stupidity in moderation, something that must have come by either years of practice or as instinctively as breathing.

When Julian tried his hand at it, it came wrapped in a bundle of cavalier flirtatiousness. For Liuyin, it was a calculated mix of ignorance and innocence projected onto a face with eyes far too clever for such a con.

Yet Julian Devorak watched in amazement as the very woman who raised Liuyin from an infant huffs and busies herself with chugging down the chrysanthemum tea in dismissal at their ward’s pretense of innocence, having seemingly bought the lead.

Hook, line, sinker.

“Our lack of curiosity is what has kept us alive and fed,” Aunt Liya replied pointedly. “Our clients are wealthy, or powerful, or both. What’s to stop them from believing we’ve outlived our uses? Especially if secrets were shared with,” and here, she levels a sharp gaze at the doctor, who’d at least had the good grace to look down at the steaming cup. “Outsiders with no regards for what we do, our customs and rituals.”

Liuyin was openly frowning now, and had been opening their mouth-- perhaps to argue, perhaps to agree, perhaps, and this was a ludicrous belief, Julian had thought to himself, to defend his own honor.

He cuts them off by standing with a flourish of his overcoat, having gauged by now that he had, as with most places, overstayed his welcome. “Ah, well Madam Zheng, Apprentice Mei. It’s been an honor, to be certain, but I must be off.”

No use driving a wedge in between Liuyin and their aunt, especially given the way they’d indicated their regard and appreciation for them on the way to the coffin-house.

The witchling looked as though they wanted to interject further but hadn’t the opportunity-- Julian readjusted his gloves, nodded sharply at them, and then made his way down the cobblestone path of the courtyard to the front door. He doesn’t wait to clarify Liuyin’s abrupt call for him to wait, nor Madam Zheng’s hiss for her apprentice to stop being so foolish and reckless to chase after such a man.

With a hint of ruefulness, he thinks that the old witch is right.

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ

“I suspect foul play,” Julian greets Asra with no other prelude as he sidles in from the back door to the shop, stooping before he hit his head on one of the lower ceiling beams.

“Mhm? That’s nice,” the white-haired magician replied absently, stooped over a table on which laid a prosthetic arm as well as a spread of cards.

Unbidden, that old longing returned to his chest like an instinct-- not really love, no, and even calling it a crush was pushing it, but that inclination to act like a foolish schoolboy and (metaphorically) tug at Asra’s curls or chatter his ear off till the other would just literally shut him up by crushing their mouths together, give his hands something better to do.

A flash and then the impulse was gone.

After a brief pause, Asra prompts, gesturing. “The arm and the missing fiancee? Or Liuyin’s baby?”

“Well,” Julian cleared his throat, deeming whatever Asra was doing safe enough to pull a seat up for, slinging his arms around the back of the chair. “I’ve only taken a look at one of those.”

“So the baby is a foul play case,” Asra murmurs as he reshuffles his deck of tarot cards and then flips one over, frowning at the horned figure on it.

“I think so. I think Liuyin would agree, but her aunt wants the case closed and baby buried,” he muses. Not in a suspicious manner, he had gauged-- Julian knew enough about that sort of thing, the wanting your secrets buried six feet deep where no one could hear even a whisper of it. It was almost… protective, in its own strange way, slightly overbearing or smothering, which reminded him of Pasha and the way she scolded him when she got too worried for his safety and recklessness. Idly, he wondered if Liuyin were the same.

Asra seemed to agree, flipping over another card-- a smiling youth who looked suspiciously like the person occupying a corner of the doctor’s thoughts, an orb with a star shining within it cupped in their hands. “The Old Witch doesn’t like asking questions. Says they’re bad for the business.”

“I can tell, dear,” Julian replied automatically, earning him a look of near-scorn from the magician. “But is it because she doesn’t like to or doesn’t want to?”

“What difference does it make, even?” Asra raised a brow. “A baby died. Case closed and over with.”

“Don’t tell me your cards aren’t saying there’s more to it than that,” Julian replied, reaching out a hand lightning-quick, laying it over Asra’s.

“I’ll take another avenue,” he responded firmly. “It’s not a matter I want to pry into. Liuyin’s business and mine remain separate for their sake.”

“So there is something more, you agree.”

Asra turns to him then, something like fire in his violet eyes as he carefully, using his free hand, encircled the wrist that Julian had caged his other hand with, extricating the offending appendage. “Ilya.”

He’d never heard him sound this dangerous before, truth be told. It was sending shivers down the hair on the back of his neck.

Asra continued. “Whatever happens, my affairs are my own, just as Liuyin has their own matters to attend to. I suggest you don’t try to reel them into this. Are we understood?”

What if they want answers, what if they want to be reeled in?

It was so silent that Julian could hear the soft rasp of his own breathing, the dull thud of blood in his ears. “Yeah,” he found himself nodding obediently.

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ

“Blessings for the rich, blessings for the poor!” Liuyin chanted listlessly, waving the stack of talismans in their hand as they assailed yet another group of unsuspecting tourists in the Temple District.

“You! Good sir over there! You look like you could use a little… magic in your life,” Liuyin said with as much charm as they could muster after staying up the previous night, chasing after a baby-corpse-snatcher in the dark, and then getting yelled at by their aunt for consorting with the likes of cads like Doctor Devorak who stuck their noses too far into other peoples’ businesses. As a result, they were made to hand out talismans as punishment to the tourists, which, between the tourist-wrangling and the general lack of success this endeavour turned out to be, was far worse a task than having to clean the cadavers brought in.

The tourist, probably not expecting to be beset by a figure who dressed like a religious fanatic and spoke like a particularly ambitious but dead-inside street vendor, had shaken off their grip and stalked away.

Other attempts bore similar fruit, with only one or two accepting their talismans-- Liuyin had checked the sigils inserted subtly into the charms for protections that had a persuasive air-- one that manifested as a small voice in the user’s head that suggested they visit a particular coffin-house on the edge of the Center City and the Temple District for any blessings, curses, exorcisms, and funerals they needed to undertake.

Their punishment, as per usual, ended at sundown. Liuyin gazed over at the setting sun and groaned, wiping a clammy hand down their face and slumping against a nearby wall. Finally, finally, their workday was over.

With great enthusiasm, they’d torn the veil and forehead ribbon from their head and balled it up, shoving them along with the talismans into the pouch slung from their shoulder, getting started on the white robe they wore atop their actual clothing as well, undoing the sash.

“You didn’t look the type to be into public indecency, but I suppose appearances are deceiving,” a voice said right next to their ear, and Liuyin jumped forward several feet before realizing who it was.

“Gods and devils,” Liuyin had blurted out, “Please don’t sneak up on me again, Doctor Devorak.”

“Call me Julian,” he grinned down at them.

“Julian, please don’t sneak up on me again,” they corrected, letting their robe hang loose, opening onto a pair of loose trousers and neck-high blouse, so much for public indecency.

“Won’t happen again, darling. ‘Pon my honor,” he’d said, holding three fingers up and clasping the other hand to his chest in a gesture like taking a vow.

They looked half-amused at that, softening the words, making them less suspicious than they were earlier. “What do you want?” Liuyin asked, query mirroring what they’d demanded from the doctor just earlier today-- heavens, it was only today that this entire fiasco had taken place. Not even twenty-four hours later, and they’d been bantering with the taller man as if they were old friends.

“Ever to the point as usual,” he’d said with a grin. “Come, walk with me. I was looking for you, but your aunt said you were out-- while chasing me off with a sword.”

“Ah, right, the peachwood sword. I believe she thinks you’re a wicked spirit,” Liuyin muttered, earning a hearty chuckle from Julian. Their aunt used it to banish wicked spirits, as was common in their line of spiritualism. Liuyin had their own, usually left in their room along with the rest of the charms and trinkets, unless they were going to perform some ritual or blessing or another, in which case they had it strapped to their back.

“Then, my dear,” Julian says, swivelling around to face them with a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. “Would you be adverse to an evening of wickedness?”

Liuyin raised a brow expectantly. “Where did you have in mind?”

His answering smirk promised a world of trouble. “The Red Market.”

[project-rebirth]

The Missing Piece

Academy City.

One could say a lot about the city that was full of odd science and advanced technology, how there seemed to be fights between espers every now and then, how the city’s defenses surpassed that of any location in the world, or the fact that the person who created and controlled such a city was secretly a magician himself.

But one thing many could agree on, was the fact that the city had a penchant for attracting trouble.

They did not now whether or not the city had some secret curse that attracted such trouble, or anything like that, but the fact that the AInsworths were here was a testament to that.

Yes.

The Multi-Universe Holy Grail War was a competition that called in people and groups from all over the multi-universe to do battle with each other over the prize that could very well grant someone true godhood.

There were such battles being conducted not only in Academy City, but in other places around the world, as Far Side Organizations were fighting amongst each other for it. Such battles had resulted in half of the war’s participants being defeated. This fact signified that the war was approaching its end, a war that had been going on for almost two months now, yet when compared to past wars, this was a relatively peaceful war if such a thing was even possible.

But despite this, there were many in the fight who had yet to be defeated, all of whom had been split into two categories.

The first category was the one where the Einsworths stood, the side that sought the grail and the achievement of the ritual in order to have access to it. This included  the Makiri and two other participants who sought the grail for their own reasons. While they would normally be enemies at this point in the game, they were unified for their goal of seeking the grail.

This is due to the second half of the participants.

That second half of the isle sought the grail but not to use it for their own means, but to destroy the whole thing altogether, preventing further wars from taking place ever again.

This included the Yukari Heiress, and the master of the Knight Class Servant, Chuuno Bowen.

However, there was another party that was mixed in, something that the Pro Grail Faction was wary of.

It was a group that was unofficial in nature, connected by a thread that wasn’t even an official participant in the war, but has gotten involved nonetheless. This was the boy known as Kamijou Touma, the one who has somehow become the centure of things in recent times.

It was not is skill or ability that had the Pro Grail Faction worried. No, if they wanted to, they could crush him in battle. They had the means to do so if they were determined enough.

It was the fact that he was connected to not only the Science Side and Magic Side of this world, but now he was connected with the Far Science and Far Magic Sides, as evident with his association with Bowen as well as him being engaged to one of the princesses of a strong and long standing empire.

While Bowen would have been what they should have been worried about, it was Kamijou and his connections that had made the parties alert. The Makiri head tried to recruit him only several days ago, but that had ended poorly, resulting in the faction not being able to have that unique asset.

And when they investigated him more, they were left with a simple question.

Who was Kamijou Touma?

Why did he throw himself into conflict with no aim for reward or some higher ideal like they had? One would think that he had been forced to take action on behalf of Bowen and the Sorceress Supreme, but that seemed very unlikely upon inspection.

Whatever the case, the Einsworths were eager to investigate, to learn more about the boy’s life, his way of living, and the people he surrounded himself with on a daily basis.

But upon doing so, they had stumbled across something that they had been seeking ever since the war had began.

“Huh? That’s...”

Maria Einsworth said, looking in the direction of a store where the trio were heading out of on the other of the road. She saw the spiky haired boy in question but was more focused on the two that were with him.

One of them was a girl with black hair who seemed to be the youngest out of the trio yet older than Maria herself. SHe was holding something that looked like a doll (?) with blond hair,  an eye patch and a very questionable black outfit.

The other was a girl who had long silver hair, and wore a white nuns habit with golden embroidery.

And as she looked on, a voice next to her spoke.

“Maria. What is it?”

Vivian Einsworth, her current guardian spoke in a cold voice as she looked at what the younger Einsworth was looking at.

“It’s the vessel... I found it.”

Vivian continued to stare as she focused on one of the girls that Maria had identified as the vessel.

Yes.

She could see it now. The qualities that required one to meet the necessary conditions, the energy that was hidden beneath them despire their appearance. It was clear that the girl they were looking at was meant to be the vessel. After all, she was pursued by many others for the sake of knowledge and power.

“Understood. Please return home to inform master Darnic about what you have found madam. I will inform Beatrix regarding this matter and we will make the necessary preparations to seize the vessel from the Imagine Breaker.”

“Un! Understood!”

Maria gave a nod before running off to do as she was told, leaving the elder Einsworth there to continue to stare at the trio from afar, specifically the one who was identified as the vessel.

“Finally... the goal that the Einsworths have sought for millennia will be achieved soon. As a doll whose only purpose is to see the completion of such, I shall wholeheartedly ensure it.”

The final piece had been found.

The gears that had been turning in this war sped up as the final days of the conflict were now visible beyond the horizon.

And the spiky haired boy who held the Imagine Breaker was not prepared for the hell that was surely to come his way.

@tetsuwan-atom​ @whitecrowns-blackthrones​

[wavesmp3]

fearless; seungkwan x fem!reader  magic/royalty au wc. 1.1k

“It’s been a while hasn’t it?” He spits towards the corner of your boot. You don’t even flinch. “Well, don’t get upset now Seungkwan. Times are bound to change. Nothing is permanent. My mother should’ve taught you that.” 

He wants to bite back and say something that burns a trail down your throat, something that hurts for you to swallow. But somehow the rope keeping his hands and feet bound to the thin chair, binds his mouth shut as well. Silence is the only thing that leaves his parted lips. You take it as dominance. 

Suddenly, you were different. You were

Fearless. 

Since you were young you had only known one thing.

Fear.

It consumed you. Made you shake and shiver. Made you wish to be someone else. Someone with courage. Someone like the boy you saw in the courtyard. And you guess that’s where it all really began.  

--

Vibrations of the three heavy knocks on the oak door to your new, too lavish bedroom resonate in the tips of your blue ears. 

“It’s time for your lessons child. Your mother will not wait for you to begin.” 

You rest your aching head against the solid brick of the fireplace for only a moment before opening the heavy doors to reveal Madame Elle. Just once, you wish your mother could spare a second to fetch you herself. 

“Oh, my child.” Madame Elle coos taking notice of your swollen eyes. She bends down to you and holds your face in her hands. You do your best to not flinch at the way the chill in her hands bites at your cheeks. “It’ll be okay. It’s only temporary. Eventually, you will be able to go home. But until then, think of your stay at the capitol as a blessing. I'm sure at home you don't have someone like me there to help you with everything you need.”

“No,” you mutter, “I don't, but at home I have my mother.” You look up at Madame Elle with a hopeful gaze, she looks back with a pitiful shake of her head. She gets up, and grabs your hand taking you down the corridors of the west wing where all palace guests stayed. 

“In Zoar, your mother has been recognized for her skill and talent by the king himself. The work she is doing here in the palace will change lives,” after a look to your unconvinced face she adds, “for the better.” 

You walk down the rest of the west wing corridors in silence. 

When you finally reach the courtyard, you find the light of the sun to be nearly blinding yet somehow comforting. The luscious greens of the courtyard are unfamiliar and different from the snowy planes you happily call home. Back up north you heard stories of the magnificence of the palace courtyard and the magic it took to keep it filled with an almost natural sort of life. But the stories don't capture the beauty of it all. Even you, a firm hater of the palace as you had decided you were when you arrived last week, loved the courtyard. If it didn't mean betraying your boycott, you would've spent all day in the courtyard relishing in the unreal greenness within every blade of grass and the all too familiar hint of magic in the air. The palace keepers kept the courtyard filled with flowers, herbs, and other plants that had been buried in the snow so long ago. However, feats of this measure took great magic as well. Your mother had taught you that. The courtyard was the silver lining between magic and time traveling. You hadn't realized how many powerful magicians worked for the capitol until you could feel the great magic surrounding the palace. It's a hard thing to explain. The way magicians can sense magic. Can smell its presence. You have yet to read a proverb to get it just right. In every passage, there's always just one thing missing, one thing that's off. For those who learn magic, the overall sense of magic comes off intense, especially at first. Some apprentices get ill off it. But eventually, it tones down. And the sense becomes less overwhelming, turning into a lingering sort of smell. And from the many students of your mother, you've learned that the smell of magic is potent but not necessarily bad or unbearable. The smell of magic subdues to a quaint unpleasantness. But for you, one who is born a magician, born into magic, the sense of it is more than smell and so much better than unpleasant. The feel of magic is divine, pleasurable. Addicting. And for some the feel is too much. There are rumors of an asylum in the south, where the weak are sent. A place for those who cannot control their own gift. However, you were not weak. You took a sense of comfort in magic. After all, magic was rooted in every fiber of your muscles. You needed magic like you needed blood. You loved it. But you needed to control it. And that's exactly what your mother taught you to do in your lessons with her. She taught you to not be weak. 

And just as Madame Elle drags you away from the serenity of the courtyard moving towards the diplomatic wing of the palace where your lessons took place, you catch a glimpse of a boy with blue hair. But what surprises you the most about the boy isn't his brightly colored hair, it's the blissful smile painted on his face. The smile of one who knows how to enjoy magic. A smile much like your own. 

--

“So when did this happen?” Seungkwan finally breaks his silence. 

You think for a moment letting the silence fill the absence of your pacing. When had all this begun?

And leaving him with no answer to his question, you resume your pacing letting the heel of your boot hit the cold stone floor. And with each footstep, you remember the events leading to your 'rebellion’ as the capitol would call it. But really running away from the capitol to the southern state felt more like going home than leaving it. 

“I guess, when I arrived at the palace.” He hums in response. 

“Your mother-” 

Please,” you stop him, you don't think your head can handle the thought of your mother, “don't mention my mother.” 

He waits a moment before asking, “Don't you miss it?” 

“What?”

“Magic” 

And it comes back like a wave. Overwhelming. And briskly overcoming you. It was only with a strong mental block and the sheer power of your own mind, were you able to lock up your old life. Yet it amazes you still, that the complexity of that wall comes down so easily with one word. 

You shrug. “Not really.” The lie feels bitter between your teeth.

--