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endless-summer-soldier · 2 years ago

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ice ice baby - chapter eight

pairing: CollegeHockeyPlayer!Bucky x CollegeFigureSkater!Reader

summary: Bucky is a college hockey player, Y/N is a figure skater without a partner. What's happens when these two opposites start sharing the ice...

warnings: enemies to lovers trope, some alcohol use

word count: 1.9k

taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @whiskeyrosepoetry

series playlist

series masterlist

Y/N studied herself in the mirror for the hundredth time. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date and this all felt so foreign to her. Bucky didn’t tell her where they were going, but he told her to dress casually. She opted for her best pair of jeans and an oatmeal cable knit sweater. She was pacing in her boots, waiting for him to pick her up. She audibly gasped when he knocked on the door, so lost in her own thoughts that the sudden noise startled her. She grabbed her purse, coat, and keys and opened the door.

Bucky was clad in a forest green hockey jersey that read “Minnesota Wild” in script.

“Hey doll,” he said, as his brilliant smile spread across his face, “I missed ya.”

The moment she saw him, all her anxiety melted away and a blush crept up her cheeks. This was Bucky, she had no reason to be nervous.

“Don’t tell me we’re going to a Wild game,” she joked.

He shrugged, “The Canucks are in town. I couldn’t miss it. And I had to give you a little glimpse into my world.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” she smiled and slid into his car. In the front seat there was a green beanie with white stripes, the Wild logo, and a green pom-pom on top.

“Here’s your hat,” she said, handing him the beanie.

“Oh no, that’s for you. Couldn’t have you showing up without gear.”

She grinned to herself as she pulled down the visor and opened the mirror. She put the beanie on and adjusted her hair before turning to him with a smile.

“Please don’t ever take that off. You are unbelievably adorable.”

She blushed yet again and said, “Stop flirting with me and take me to this hockey game.”

“You got it,” he smiled, putting the car into drive.

They entered the XCel Energy Center and Y/N followed Bucky’s lead as he navigated the crowd and showed them to their section. They stopped at the concession stand for a couple pounders of Coors Light and some nachos, “must haves” according to Bucky. When they took the steps down to their seats, Y/N kept expecting them to stop and file in; but they didn’t stop until they reached the glass. She could almost feel the envious stares they received as they took their seats in the front row. They were situated in the corner of the rink, facing the goal that the Wild would shoot at for two of the three periods.

“How did you get these seats?” she asked him.

“One of the scouts offered them up to me. You ever been to a hockey game before?” he asked her.

She shook her head, “Not a professional one.”

“But you’ve been to others?”

“A few in high school. Maybe a few in college.”

He perked up at this, “Oh really? So you’ve seen me play?”

She played coy, “Maybe.”

“Wow, how did you keep it together being around me all this time? You must’ve been fangirling so hard.”

“Oh my god, so hard. You have no idea,” she joked.

He laughed at the sarcasm but didn’t let up, “So you knew who I was that day I walked into the rink?”

She nodded, “I knew who you were.”

“And what was your first thought?”

“Honestly? I thought it might’ve been a big joke to you. That’s why I was a bit closed off at first.”

“That’s understandable. What changed your mind?”

“The day you gave me pushback. I could see it in your eyes that you cared.”

He considered her words, “When I first met you, I was really intimidated and that wasn’t how I usually felt around girls. You had this confidence about you that was incredibly attractive, but it made me nervous. I wanted to skate to your standards and I didn’t even know if that would be possible.”

“Well you did it. You impressed me. I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

“I am nothing if not stubbornly determined.”

She laughed, “Now that I know.”

The lights in the arena went black and spotlights darted around the crowd in an attempt to amp up the audience for the face off. Players from both teams skated out and started warming up as pop punk music blasted over the speakers. Y/N found herself feeding off the energy in the crowd and growing excited. The taste of light beer and artificial cheese somehow enhanced her experience.

After the initial faceoff, she found it hard to pull her attention away from Bucky. She asked him questions about some of the rules she didn’t quite understand and he offered her tidbits about the players as they skated around the rink. When something exciting would happen, Bucky would stop mid sentence to cheer or yell at the refs, then fall right back into the conversation with a brief apology. Y/N found it endearing that he was so passionate about the sport and that he cared enough to make sure she was having a positive experience.

As the gameplay continued, she felt more comfortable with the sport and started cheering along with the crowd at important moments. One of the Wild players tapped in a goal right in front of them and they both stood up in tandem to cheer. Y/N lifted her arms up to give Bucky a double high five, but instead he wrapped his arms around her torso and squeezed her tight. While she was starting to get more used to his touch, it still gave her butterflies.

The game was tied 1-1 going in the middle of the second period. Y/N could feel the tension mounting between the two teams. The players were slamming each other into the glass like they had personal vendettas against each other. It was exciting to watch. Bucky kept waiting for the gloves to come off in an actual brawl, but it hadn’t reached that level just yet. Y/N was also impressed with the crowd engagement tactics used. Outside of just showing fans dancing on the jumbotron, they showed videos of the players trying to name as many ice cream flavors as possible in 30 seconds and had a montage of players naming their favorite TV shows. Y/N was most tickled by the look-a-like segment, where a notable celebrity or character was displayed on the jumbotron and then a fan in the crowd who looked similar to the person in question was projected on the screen side-by-side. As the segment progressed, the comparisons became more and more accurate, eliciting cheers and giggles from the crowd.

What Y/N did not expect to see, was the kiss cam. She’d seen it in several rom coms from the early 2000s, but had assumed the tradition had died out. Regardless, she wasn’t worried about being featured on the screen. There were so many other people in the stadium that must have looked more interesting than them.

They started with a couple in their seventies who shared a quick peck. Then the screen displayed a young mother with a young child sitting on her lap. She peppered the child with kisses on the cheek as the baby smiled at the camera. The next couple were both wearing hockey jerseys and were caught by surprise when they noticed they were on screen. The female had just taken a big swig of beer and almost spit it out when she saw herself. The male was looking straight ahead and shaking his head with wide eyes. He then kissed his cup of beer and chugged it while his friend laughed along with the crowd.

And then she saw Bucky on the screen, her own image projected by his side. They both had their eyes up at the screen and they turned toward each other at the same time.

“Let’s give ‘em something to cheer about, yeah?” he said. She didn’t have time to respond, but he could tell from the smile on her face and the look in her eye that she was in.

He crept in close and gingerly placed his hand on her jaw. His lips met hers in what started out as a sweet kiss. He deepened the kiss, using the slightest bit of tongue without being sloppy. When he started to ease up, Y/N’s lips spread into a smile and they shared a few loving pecks as the crowd cheered for them. She was immediately embarrassed and leaned into Bucky’s shoulder to hide her face. Bucky took the opposite approach. He wrapped his arms around her shoulder and thrust his other arm into the air, much like Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club. The crowd loved it, amping up their applause.

When the segment ended and the crowd simmered, Bucky leaned back into his seat and Y/N’s expression was that of pure disbelief.

“That did not just happen,” she said.

“I wish I could take credit for that, but it was pure kismet.”

“I just didn’t think things like that happened to normal people.”

“Well maybe that’s because you’re not a normal person,” he suggested.

She turned to him with eyebrows raised, waiting for him to elaborate, “You’re extraordinary.”

Instinctually, she leaned into him and kissed him again, using her actions to portray her feelings.The kiss was soft and sweet, leaving Bucky in awe yet again.

As she pulled away, Bucky took his time to open his eyes. When he was ready to return to reality, he opened his eyes and looked straight into hers.

“I never want you to stop doing that,” he flirted. She blushed and they returned their attention to the ice.

The night continued to be more and more exciting. The game was still tied up into the third period. With about two minutes left, the Wild scored a goal right in front of them. They both jumped up and banged on the glass in excitement. The crowd went into a frenzy as the players celebrated with padded up group hugs and high fives. They stayed for the last few minutes and were relieved to see the game end with a Minnesota victory.

As they walked out of the stadium to the car, Y/N felt the buzz of the win running through her. It was unlike anything else she ever felt, even medaling in a competition.

“You okay,” Bucky asked her, as she kept smiling and looking at the crowd filing out around her.

“I’m great, I feel like I don’t want this night to end.”

“Is that because of the win or the date?”

“A little of both.”

“I mean if you want we can grab a drink somewhere when we get back to campus if you want to keep the night going.”

She nodded, “We’ll see how we feel.”

They loaded into the car and waited for their turn to exit the crowded parking lot. Once they escaped the initial bumper-to-bumper, it was smooth highway sailing back to campus. They found a parking spot near her apartment. Y/N pulled out her phone for the first time all night and her face immediately went blank.

“Shit…” she muttered.

Bucky looked at her concerned, “What is it?”

“USFS is calling a press conference tomorrow morning.”

“Oh shit,” he replied in surprise.

“Now I definitely need a drink,” she replied, wanting something to calm her nerves.

“I think we can manage that.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes slow burn #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes hockey player

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little-peril-stories · 8 months ago

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The Queen of Lies: Nullum Magnum Ingenium

Story Intro | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contains: lady whump, asylum, outdated/problematic/ableist language, bullying (includes food-related taunting, Victorian-style slut-shaming, sexist language), feeling humiliated, drugging/sedation

Previous | Masterlist | Next (on ao3)

Word count: 4700 || Approx reading time: 19 mins

Nullum Magnum Ingenium

Teaser: This room was so cold, her teeth chattered. Perhaps the presence of a few other bodies might have dispelled the horrid chill, or even kept at bay the nightmares—horrible ones, dark and sinister, filled with screams and the blood-flecked ghost of Will’s face.

Bree awoke from an ordeal that vaguely resembled sleep, curled into a ball and shivering, her face stiff and sticky with dried tears. The night had passed slowly, filled with constant interruptions from heavy-footed nurses. Each time, they’d noisily opened her door to peer into her face. Checking, it seemed, to ensure she was alive and calm and who she said she was.

From what she understood, Baden was paying handsomely for a private room, but she had to wonder if a shared dorm wouldn’t be more pleasant. This room was so cold, her teeth chattered. Perhaps the presence of a few other bodies might have dispelled the horrid chill, or even kept at bay the nightmares—horrible ones, dark and sinister, filled with screams and the blood-flecked ghost of Will’s face.

A basin of water was delivered, its arrival foretold by footsteps and the scrape of a key unlocking her door. Bree shivered through her ablutions, splashing her face and drying it with a yellowed towel that scraped her skin. Smoothing her hair with an old hairbrush made her skin crawl; she tried not to fixate on how many other locks it had brushed before. The morning nurse, a smiling woman whose black hair was braided away from her face and tied with a pink bow, provided her with a coarse, grey dress. Bree did not object, even though it was as hideous as her slip and equally uncomfortable. It, too, was stamped with its inventory number and Greyhurst’s name.

First, property of Baden Hatchett; now, property of the asylum.

“Come along, Mrs. Hatchett,” said the nurse in a sweet, accented voice when she was done. “Shall we see what they’ve made for breakfast?”

It seemed impossible that this kindly girl could be in the same profession as the blonde gossip from the day before.

In the dining room, Bree quickly found her way to Mrs. Strickland, certain she would need the encouragement to choke down her food when she saw what was being served: unbuttered bread and bowls of watery oatmeal striped with thin drizzles of molasses.

“Remember what I told you yesterday,” said the older woman, sipping daintily at her tea. Bree’s eyes filled with tears when she tasted hers. Will’s voice came to her, complaining about a different cup of tea; now she, too, knew what tea tasted like when it was made with care and love—and when it wasn’t.

“How long have you been here?” Bree asked, trying to take her mind off the lamentable bill of fare.

Mrs. Strickland’s face fell. “Almost three years.”

Bree nearly spilled her tea into her lap—not that it would have hurt much, considering that it was lukewarm. “What?” Her face drawn but collected, Mrs. Strickland nodded. “But—I thought—Dr. Armstrong said a few months—”

“For some, yes.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Bree put down her teacup and took the woman’s hand. “I…I’m so sorry.”

Why on earth should this gentle woman have been locked away for so long? “Wh…” Fearing to pry, she cut herself off, but Mrs. Strickland grasped her question nonetheless.

“My husband and I have different ideas about how children ought to be raised.” Mrs. Strickland’s gaze, clouded with sorrow, fixed upon something on the opposite side of the room. “It was a battle I couldn’t win, since… Well, perhaps you know better than most. The law is not on our side, is it?”

Recalling Baden’s voice as he declared her forcible commitment entirely lawful, Bree shook her head.

“Some things are beyond our control, regardless of how hard we try,” said Mrs. Strickland. “Or how valiantly we fight.”

Something shivered and trembled inside Bree’s chest. That simply couldn’t be true.

But she thought of herself standing helpless, frozen, and silent as Baden walked away.

“We do our best,” said Mrs. Strickland, “with the lot we’re given. We keep going. We…” She glanced around the room, and for a moment, Bree could see the anguish swirling around her like mist. No, not just anguish; there was anger, too, and determination. Quiet, subdued—but not extinguished. “Survive.”

The rest of the meal passed largely in melancholy silence. When it was done, however, Mrs. Strickland got to her feet and informed the nurses, in a voice as reasonable as any Bree had ever heard, that she would take the new girl under her wing, if you please, and so Breanna Hatchett would accompany her for work in the sewing room. To Bree’s astonishment, no one scoffed or objected; in fact, the pink-bowed nurse beamed and said she thought it was a marvellous idea.

The sewing room was a surprisingly bright area filled with natural light and quietly chattering women. Work, Mrs. Strickland said, was part of the healing regimen at Greyhurst. Thus, much of the day would be passed with needlework, sewing clothes, pillowcases, sheets, and more.

“Saves them a great deal of money to have us do it,” Mrs. Strickland whispered with a roll of her eyes, and Bree couldn’t help but return a cynical laugh.

It was undeniably a relief to have something to occupy her mind: in every moment she wasn’t working, she fretted about whether Will was safe. If, as her slim silver needle wove in and out of her fabric, he was being locked in chains, carted away, or put to death. If each loop of her thread perfectly mimicked the deathly coil of a noose.

The first day ebbed into a second, and then a third, settling into a routine: rest, meals, work. The nightmares did not fade, nor did her sleep improve: if it wasn’t the nurses disturbing her with their stomping footsteps, it was the cries of poor souls elsewhere in the asylum. Bree burst into tears the first time she was jolted awake by a haunting, woeful scream.

Even so, her days passed in what might have been pleasant mundanity—if not for the ever-present terror that the next morning would be the one when a nurse or doctor burst in bearing news that those wicked Iustitia aecum thieves had been caught and put to death.

She was on her second pillowcase of the day when a nurse summoned her, announcing that she had a visitor. Bree’s mouth went dry. So, Baden was back. Perhaps bringing her belongings, perhaps some extra clothes.

Perhaps tidings of misery and death.

Squaring her shoulders, Bree followed the nurse from the room, her mind racing. Today, she would not face Baden with terror, hysteria, tears, or ravings. She would overpower him with strength of argument and soundness of mind, and she would convince him she had been wrongfully detained. Then, the moment she was free, she would find Will—and make sure Baden never laid a finger on him again.

It was a fine plan, or it would have been had Baden Hatchett been waiting for her.

“Breanna?”

Alice Wright stood stiffly in the parlour, twisting her fingers together. Her hands shook.

“Alice,” Bree whispered.

The afternoon light was weak and silvery. Spilling through the window, it glinted off Alice’s dark hair, and even though it was a miserable, grey sort of glow, she looked as beautiful and put-together as she always did.

Judging by how Alice clapped her hands to her mouth, Bree knew the light did not have the same effect on her.

Fleeting glances in the mirror had revealed an unpleasant truth: although only a few days had passed, her appearance was already deteriorating. There remained not a whit of shine to her hair; her skin was growing sallow; ringing her eyes were circles of dolorous, ashy grey.

Altogether, she looked positively frightful.

“Oh, Breanna,” Alice squeaked, darting forward and embracing her tightly. “What’s happened to you?”

Bree swallowed swift, smarting tears, unsure whether to be mortified or grateful that Alice bore witness to her imprisonment. Had Baden told everybody, then, that she was mad? Whenever anyone spoke the name “Hatchett” from now on, would it immediately be followed by condoling coos of, “Oh, that poor dear! Did you hear? Do you suppose they’ll ever let her out?”

But Alice merely murmured, “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he would—I didn’t know it would come to this.”

Baden hadn’t come, but Alice had.

Baden wouldn’t help her—but perhaps Alice would.

“Please,” Bree said dizzily, her heart beginning to thrum faster. “Alice, please, you must listen. I’m not mad.” She swung her head around, cognizant of how perfectly paranoid she must look even as she insisted she was sane, but what she wished to say next, the nurses could not overhear. “I need your help.”

“Breanna, I—”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be in here,” she interrupted. “Please, listen. I’m not insane. Baden, he—he’s just trying to protect his reputation, don’t you understand? Because—because I—”

Because I fell in love with someone else.

“You must find him,” Bree whispered. “And warn him.”

“Wait—”

“Please!” Bree squeezed her friend’s hands. “You have to warn…”

Will. But what meaning would that name hold for Alice? None. Fox. Why should she recognize that name over his real one? The thief—my thief. But wasn’t that much the same as confessing her crimes?

Bree froze as she realized she had not a clue of how to word her plea.

“Breanna,” said Alice gently, cupping her cheek, “perhaps you might listen to me first.” She turned to the nearest nurse, who, to Bree’s great trepidation, was Miss Dugford. “I wish to walk with my friend.”

“If you want to go outside,” said Miss Dugford sullenly, “you’ll need an escort. She roamed her gaze over Alice’s smart outfit and lofty expression—and apparently concluded that this was a fine lady who was not to be crossed or trifled with. Bree nearly collapsed with relief.

“Fine,” Alice sniffed. “Then we shall simply take a turn about the room.” With a haughty toss of her hair, she laid a hand on Bree’s arm and tugged her along.

The softest whisper tickled her ear: “I have news, but play along for a few minutes, all right?”

Alice prattled on for those few—yet agonizing—minutes, filling the air with questions. How had Greyhurst’s staff been treating her? Had she been sleeping? Was there anything she needed? Why on earth had Baden not yet sent any extra clothes? Unacceptable. Rest assured, she would arrange to have some dresses sent immediately.

After two and a half circles around the room, one nurse, clearly bored, began to plunk away at the piano in the corner, making what Bree thought was quite an unnecessary racket. A new light glowed in Alice’s eyes.

“I was sent here,” she said softly, her eyes on the musically-minded nurse, her face perfectly calm, “but it wasn’t your husband who told me you’d been committed.”

Bree stumbled to a halt. “What?”

“Shh,” Alice admonished. “Enjoy the lovely music, won’t you?” The tune was far from skillfully played, but it was loud—and distracting.

“Who sent you?” Bree whispered.

“A terribly rude young man.”

As it sank in what this meant—the only person Alice could mean—Bree’s eyes filled with tears.

“Stop reacting!” Alice said quickly. Raising her voice, she said, “Now, Breanna, I know you’re terribly homesick, but—” She wavered. “Remember, we all just want what’s best for you. No doubt you’ll be feeling much better soon.”

Will. He didn’t hate her after all.

“He sought me out,” said Alice quietly, “all for you.”

Washed away by these words was the conviction that Will despised her for dooming Jamie—but Bree’s relief was accompanied by horror. “He did?” When the constables could have found him at any moment? “Was he all right?”

“Well, I thought he was rather vulgar. But…” Alice nodded. “He seemed unhurt. Only…upset.” After a pause, she added, “And really quite incorrigible.”

Although she laughed, Bree’s throat ached with gratitude. Will, her Will—so reckless. Too reckless. “Alice, you have to warn him. Baden wants him dead. If you see him again, you must send him away. He can’t be caught.”

Alice’s face fell as she laid a hand on Bree’s arm. “He knows.”

“He—how?”

Whispering even more quietly now, Alice said, “A new arrest warrant. It says he’s done…terrible things. Awful things. To you.”

Bree’s hands moved of their own accord, taking hold of the end of her braid and combing through the ends. Every muscle seemed to tremble. “Alice, it’s not true. He didn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“So he insisted,” Alice said. “As did his friend. A woman.”

Colette was trying to help her, too? Bree pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to keep her sobs reined in.

“It’ll be all right,” said Alice soothingly, passing another worried glance around the room, apparently determining that Bree’s distress had grown too conspicuous. “You’ll be right as rain before you know it.” She took Bree’s hand again.

Something circular passed from Alice’s palm to Bree’s.

Quiet as a falling petal, Alice whispered, “I’m here to seek a way in, and I think I’ve found it.”

Without giving Bree an opportunity to react, she burst into loud, cheerful chatter. “Now, let’s rest for a few minutes before I go. Shall I tell you all about the literary society? No doubt you’ll be joining us in no time.”

They rested upon a poorly cushioned bench by the window. With a furtive glance around, only half-listening as Alice described the literary society’s current book and detailed her husband’s latest travels with the military, Bree glanced at the item in her palm.

A roughly carved coin, decorated on both sides: on one face, a tree with ringed roots, and on the other, two letters.

I.A.

Praying her shaking hands wouldn’t cause her to drop the precious gift Will had sent her, Bree slipped the coin into her stocking. She would not allow the nurses to see it, to find it, to parse its meaning—or to take it away.

His meaning, unwritten but clear: I’m coming for you.

“Don’t forget what Mr. Hawthorne said,” said Alice suddenly.

Bree frowned, trying to remember which quotation from The Scarlet Letter her friend meant.

“‘Do anything…’” Alice began, and Bree’s heart lifted.

“‘Do anything,’” she recited, “‘save to lie down and die.’”

“A dear friend once told me that,” said Alice, wiping her eyes. “I’m still trying to determine if she was wise or foolish, in the end.”

For the first time in days, when Bree laughed, it felt neither heavy nor forced. “You know,” she said, “I think you’d get along with him rather well. Once you got to know him. My…friend.”

Alice raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know about that. He frightened me, at first. And the way he curses!” Still, her lips turned upwards. Slightly. “Perhaps I shall have to take your word for it.”

Interrupting the contemplative silence that fell between them, Dr. Armstrong approached. Although he retained his usual mild demeanour, he seemed pleased. “You’re smiling, Mrs. Breanna.” If Alice found it indecorous that he referred to Bree by her first name rather than her last, she did not say so, although her mouth twitched. “I’m delighted to see that. Your friend’s visit has done you good.”

“Yes,” said Bree, praying he could not detect a suspicious amount of exuberance in her expression. “It certainly has.”

“You’re a doctor here?” asked Alice, getting to her feet.

Imperturbable and unoffended as ever, the doctor merely said, “I’m Dr. Armstrong, assistant physician.”

With sparks in her eyes, Alice strode up to him, held out her hand for a shake, and said, “Dr. Armstrong, my name is Alice Wright, the wife of Major Roger Merritt Wright of the 34th Regiment, and I would like to return to your hospital for a visit of a different sort. I noticed you have a lovely piano in the corner there, and I was touched by how—er—pleasing it was to have some music this afternoon.”

Bree blinked, wondering where Alice was leading this conversation, for no one with any taste would find the nurse’s playing pleasing to the ear.

“I was thinking,” Alice went on before he could interject, “of how nice it would be if I returned with a—erm—friend to play some music for the patients here. Might we discuss this?”

“Oh…” Dr. Armstrong appeared to give her proposition earnest consideration. “I suppose we could bring it to Dr. Richards and see what he says.”

“Splendid,” said Alice. “I’m sure he’ll agree that it would be ever such a nice thing to do. Music is simply delightful for the soul, isn’t it?”

Dr. Armstrong agreed, sending an affectionate look toward the shabby piano.

“Do you play, doctor?” Bree asked, a little surprised and genuinely curious.

“Well, not anymore,” he said, and she was rendered quite astonished, almost charmed, when his face turned red.

“Oh, but you did!” said Alice delightedly. “Why, then we simply must arrange this visit! Please, Dr. Armstrong, take me to see Dr. Richards right away.” Without giving him a chance to refuse, Alice gave Bree one quick embrace, bade her farewell, and led him toward the door. The sound of her airy laughter drifted away, more beautiful than any music.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

Bree stood still, heart pounding and hands tingling. Had that really just happened? Had Alice been there, slipped her an Iustitia aecum coin, promised to help her, and then vanished? It seemed impossible.

Yet the coin in her stocking insisted that something had been set in motion, a firm foundation laid.

For a plan.

For, she dared to hope, the plan that would see her once again set free.

***

If Bree went to dinner with her heart soaring, it did not take long for it to plummet.

“Madam Lawbreaker had a visitor today,” said Miss Dugford loudly toward upon seeing Bree. “Didn’t you, Mrs. Hatchett? Did you have a simply lovely time with your friend?”

Biting down hard on the tip of her tongue, Bree nodded and brace herself for whatever stinging remark or hissed innuendo was coming her way.

“I’m astonished,” said Miss Dugford. “The poor girl must not know what manner of people you associate with the rest of the time. Did you deceive her, too?”

Bree ignored her. Finding her prey dissatisfactory, Miss Dugford turned away, shifting her attention to a younger girl instead.

“Look at this! How shameful,” she said mockingly, pointing to the girl’s half-eaten meal. “You must eat up. It’s not healthy to eat so little, you know. And it’s so terribly ungrateful of you to leave half your food on the plate.”

The girl stared down in distaste at her lump of boiled beef, mumbling, “I’ve eaten my fill.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” Miss Dugford sighed dramatically and addressed another nurse. “These rich girls, wasting food like it’s nothing. Disgraceful!” She tutted, and the girl’s face flushed deeply, her eyes filling with tears. “Or perhaps her condition is worsening. A healthy young girl in her right mind wouldn’t refuse such a meal, would she?”

The girl ducked her head and said nothing. A tear dripped off her chin, splashing against the wooden tabletop.

“A woman in her right mind wouldn’t go anywhere near this meal,” Bree said.

Sharp intakes of breath up and down her table reminded her that talking back to any of the nurses, but especially this one, was ill-advised. At the moment, however, Bree didn’t care. She didn’t want Nurse Dugford’s attention, either, of course. But the poor girl looked so forlorn. So helpless.

If no one ever said anything, then what would it take to make that horrid woman hold her tongue?

“How extraordinarily impolite!” said Miss Dugford, crossing her arms. “Didn’t you ever learn to mind your own business? Really, Mrs. Hatchett, you ought to be a bit more agreeable. More grateful. You’ve been given such a lovely place to stay while our kind doctors do their best to cure you of your nympho—” She paused dramatically. “Well, as I have a sense of propriety, I won’t say it here.”

Bree’s throat threatened to close up and choke the very words out of her. But instead of fixating on her atrocious meal, she looked up and met Miss Dugford’s gaze. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps you should say it.”

The nurse merely clicked her tongue and drifted away. “See? She is a hopeless case.”

“Don’t do anything untoward,” Mrs. Strickland said, clinging to her arm. No doubt she could see Bree’s fingers clenching into fists. “You’ll only regret it.”

Bree forced her breaths to calm.

It was a relief when Dr. Armstrong, making his rounds through the room, paused next to her, a smile on his face. “I must say, Mrs. Wright was very persuasive. We shall have a concert tomorrow.”

“What wonderful news!” she said, her mood buoyed by the sudden smiles beaming around her. “That will be lovely, I’m sure.” For everyone, of course, but especially, if Alice’s whisper was any indication, for her.

Oblivious to the plot he’d unwittingly abetted, Dr. Armstrong smiled again, lightly patted her hand, and moved on.

From where she stood, Miss Dugford watched them with her eyes narrowed. Bree threw her an indignant glare, resolving to keep her spirits undampened.

In this endeavour, she was successful—until it came time to exit the dining room, when Miss Dugford slithered toward her again.

“You seem quite taken with Dr. Armstrong,” she said coolly. “Everyone sees it.” Beneath the glow of the gas lights, her green eyes glittered menacingly. “How terribly improper. He’s a physician. A professional. Are you looking for special treatment or something?”

“I’m not taken with anyone,” Bree said through gritted teeth. “He was just telling me about tomorrow’s concert.”

Something about today felt different; a crueller gleam burned in Miss Dugford’s gaze.

Bree knew she should duck her head and walk away. The coin in her stocking whispered to her softly: if only she could hold out, suffer just a little longer, her imprisonment would soon be over, and the gaping hole in her heart would soon be filled.

Miss Dugford giggled, shrill and girlish—more a caterwaul, a banshee’s scream. “Well, I’m no doctor, but it certainly seems to me that you’re utterly incurable. Married to such a prominent, respectable gentleman with a good job, then running off with a thief? Now throwing yourself at Dr. Armstrong? Why, there’s no fixing such deplorable promiscuity, is there?”

Hot, tingling prickles swept up and down Bree’s entire body.

“Your poor husband,” Miss Dugford sneered. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but your poor crook, too. I wonder what they’d say, seeing how you conduct yourself in here. No wonder your constable hasn’t come to visit.” Her head tilted to the side. “And your thief, well, he can’t, can he? He’d be arrested before he made it through the gates.”

Bree heard Mrs. Strickland calling her—Let’s go. Come away. Go on to bed.

“Be quiet,” Bree said, “and leave me alone.”

“But you know…” Miss Dugford continued, still tittering. “Supposing he could. Perhaps he wouldn’t be surprised at all. A man like that, straight from the gutter—why, I’m sure he’s very used to whores and trollops. Just like y—”

The slap of Bree’s palm against Miss Dugford’s cheek echoed through the entire dining room.

Aside from the gasps of alarm that rose among the women who had borne witness, there was only silence.

“How dare you?” Bree demanded. “You don’t know a single thing about me.”

“Did you see that?” Miss Dugford screeched. “You all saw that, right? She hit me!”

“Mrs. Hatchett, really!” one of the other women said. Perhaps it was Mrs. Strickland, horrified, disappointed. Perhaps it was someone else. Bree didn’t care.

Because Miss Dugford, clutching a hand to her bright red cheek, opened her big mouth again.

“Looks like Mrs. Hatchett’s time consorting with the scum of the earth was even more influential than we thought.” Her face contorted into a grimace—animalistic, bloodthirsty. “Were you always a violent little cow, destined to end up here from the start, or was it that Wardrew man who taught you?”

The name no one else was supposed to know struck Bree more fiercely than any blow.

Bree did not realize she had leapt for Miss Dugford until two pairs of arms grabbed her and dragged her away.

“How do you know his name?” It was her voice, she knew, crying out like that, but it came from somewhere far away, impossibly far. The voice of a woman gone feral, panicked and overcome.

And trapped.

Miss Dugford couldn’t know Will’s name, yet she did. Which meant that someone, somewhere, had told the police, and the police had told the rest of the world. Was it Jamie? Had he buckled under the pressure Will had suffered so keenly to withstand? Had someone else informed on IA? Or—worst of all—had the others been caught?

What if, at that very moment, Will was in chains again?

“How do you know?” she cried, tears already streaming down her cheeks.

“Everyone knows!” Miss Dugford snarled, scrambling away. “Wardrew, Marks, Haris! You just haven’t heard because you’re locked up like the bloody lunatic you are!”

Every name—revealed.

All her allies—doomed.

“That’s quite enough!” Dr. Richards bellowed, but Bree barely heard him.

She had consoled herself with the conviction that even if every constable was looking for a man with red-brown hair, hazel eyes, a tattoo, and a price on his head, Will was still protected by his anonymity, and that his name and whatever history remained attached to it would stay hidden long enough for him to get away.

But if everyone knew…

Something pricked her arm. It hurt—but it paled in comparison to the ache inside her soul.

“To your room at once, Mrs. Hatchett,” said Dr. Richards coldly, as a pair of nurses urged her to walk.

They didn’t understand. They couldn’t.

“Perhaps she is mad after all,” said Mrs. Strickland sadly. “She seemed such a sharp little thing.”

How could any of them understand?

“Come on now, Mrs. Hatchett,” a nurse said. “Don’t fight us. We’re here to help you. We know you’re upset. You’ll be all right soon. Just come along.”

It was not until she was almost at her room that Bree realized she felt strange. Not the kind of strange that came with having her soul shredded to ribbons—that remained.

No, this sensation was unfamiliar—limbs growing heavy and weak. Eyes growing dim. Mind growing foggy.

“What did you do?” she whispered. “I feel…”

“I know, lamb,” said the nurse, patting her cheek. “You were distraught, and violent, and you slapped Miss Dugford, didn’t you? That wasn’t kind, but anyone can see you’re suffering. You need rest. The chloral will help you sleep, that’s all, and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“And then we shall have a conversation about standards of behaviour in this hospital.” Dr. Richards’ voice. Drifting from somewhere behind them.

“Are you with it enough to get into your nightgown?” the nurse asked. “Or do you need help?”

“Don’t touch me,” Bree said. She was crying. Was she? She wasn’t certain. She had been so happy. So hopeful. Earlier. Why? Alice. Colette. Music. A plan.

That Wardrew man. Everyone knows. Whore. Trollop. Bloody lunatic.

“Please leave me alone,” she sobbed when the nurse drew closer. “Don’t touch me. Don’t.”

The invisible spectre of Dr. Richards sighed heavily. “Just wait until she’s out,” he said. “Then you can finish up and help calm everyone else down.”

“Please,” Bree said. “Please. Please.” What was she crying for? Pleading for? She wasn’t certain.

She was so tired.

“You’ll be all right, Mrs. Hatchett.”

A lie, Bree knew, but the room faded, and she knew nothing more.

Previous | Masterlist | Next (on ao3)

Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!)

✨ @starlit-hopes-and-dreams | @clairelsonao3 | @gala1981 | @pleasestaywithmedarling | @kixngiggles ✨

#lps the queen of lies #whump #whump story #whump writing #original writing #original story #original content #lady whump #guy whump #romance #angst #tw asylum #tw ableist language #tw bullying #tw humiliation #tw drugging #tw sedation #food related taunting #tw food related taunting

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pilot-boi · 2 years ago

Note

Hold on…

What if RWBY just find Jaunes broken blade and assume the worst? A broken weapon around Cinder is never a good sign.

When they find it, they’re not quite sure what they’re looking at.

Everything in the Ever After seems halfway between two states of being at all time. Half of the trees are rocks just pretending. A crystal cliff they’d been walking towards for an hour turned out to be a facade as flimsy as tissue paper in a hurricane.

So when they see the light of twin suns reflect in a sliver of silver they think nothing of it.

It catches Blake’s eye first, distracted from her flirting by a quivering spot of technicolor light dancing on the dirt path in front of her. Her eyes trace it and flick up to where a light glints and reflects from a point high in a multicolored tree.

There’s something familiar about what Blake’s looking at, and without realizing her steps slow. This brings Yang’s jokes screeching to a halt as her voice raises in a question. Feline ears flick uncertainly, and before long Weiss and Ruby join them.

A discussion fills the air, debating, arguing.

Is it a distraction, meant to keep them from continuing down Alyx’s path? Is it a trap, as so many things in this world seem to be? It’s familiar in a way none of them can put their fingers on, but if their brief stay in the Ever After has taught them anything, it’s taught them caution.

The little mouse pays no heed to their worries, only hearing the group’s interest in the object. They scurry down Ruby and up the tree and dislodge the shiny thing without a moment’s hesitation.

It tumbles through the air with a metallic shing, landing unceremoniously in a pile of multicolored maple leaves.

The girls jump, most of them with hands halfway to weapons, before they realize there’s nothing to see.

It’s a sword. Not even a mechanized one like most blade-wielding Huntsmen have. Just a simple longsword.

With gold inlay that swirls along the steel in a way that pulls at them. The shattered steel, what’s left of the tip stained crimson with blood.

It’s Weiss who first realizes what they’re looking at, and her face goes the color of old oatmeal. Sickly pale and faint, drained of all vitality.

She dashes forward, heedless of her friends calling for her or how the Ever After might thrust her back onto the path. Because if this sword is here then that means-

Ruby crouches at Weiss’s side, Little once again safely in the folds of her cape. Her partner’s eyes have more life in them than they have since she found out Penny died again. How she wishes that it wasn’t from fear for their friend’s life.

There’s blood on the blade, and when Blake points it out with a tremor in her voice, Weiss can’t bring herself to explain. By her count, Penny’s blood has been on this blade longer than the full length of time the fluid was pulsing through her veins.

All of their eyes linger on the blood. On the shattered sword and what it could mean. Blake’s hand wraps tight around the gold stripe in Gambol Shroud.

A Huntsman’s weapon is imbued with the strength of his self. An extension of his soul. The sword blade is shattered, as cruel as a caress.

Weiss thought he was safe in Vacuo. Hopefully with the Relics, but at least safe. At least alive. “Is Jaune…? You don’t think he…?” Yang’s unfinished question goes unanswered.

Because if his sword is here, then where is Jaune Arc?

#rwby #rwby volume 9 #rwby spoilers #jaune arc #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #ruby rose #mine #my writing #asks #captenryanvip

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cottagecore-raccoon · 5 months ago

Note

For the Cozy Ask Game: 3, 4, 5, 13 :D

It let you ask off of anon today! That's so exciting!

3. Favorite comfy clothing you own?

I have a ton of sweaters (which I'm sure surprises no one), all of which I adore! That said, I especially fond of a oatmeal and cream striped sweater that's super thick

4. What's your go to rainy day activity?

If left to my own devices, all I want to do on a rainy day is sleep and drink tea. I'm always so sleepy when it rains and everywhere is so cozy-

5. Do you have any stuffed animals on your bed? Can you tell us about them?

I have a few that rotate, although I sleep with my dog so they often don't stay all night (because Piper needs cuddles, dammit). There are two penguin pillow pets, a weird bunny squishmallow (that isn't the usual shape? I dunno), and sometimes my stuffed raven named Nigel. Nigel is my main guy who travels with me on vacation

13. Do you have an album that you listen to when you need to calm down?

My main is Ella and Louis by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. It's just such a warm, cohesive album that I bought it on vinyl! I also love The Christmas Song by Nat King Cole. I had it on CD growing up, and whenever I was having a hard time I'd listen to it in my room. I think it's probably part of the reason why Christmas is one my special interests now, truth be told

Cozy Ask Game

#thank you friend for the lovely asks!#ask #ask game #cottagecore-raccoon #floating-in-the-blue

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floofanflurr · 1 year ago

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A master list of all the wonderful art and fanart made for Heart on the Table!

It's a long list, so I've put it under the cut!

These aren't all on tumblr- though some of them are! Some link to other websites such as deviantart.

(These also don’t include the pieces that I have drawn myself- to see those, sort by the #art on the table tag on my blog)

(There’s way too many of them for me to link.)

Frisk curled up in ball by HumanKK (Ch 1)

Thank You by SirLinn (Ch 1)

papyrus… by SirLinn (Ch 2)

papyrus... (redone version of last piece!) by SirLinn (Ch 2)

Movie Night by SirLinn (Ch 2)

Dinosaur Egg Oatmeal by SirLinn (Ch 3)

Carrying the Team by SirLinn (Ch 4)

Very Small Friend by SirLinn (Ch 4)

Failed Negotiations by SirLinn (Ch 4)

Frisk by SirLinn (Ch 5)

AN ANIMATIC FOR CHAPTER 5?!?! By SirLinn!!!

Coping Mechanisms by SirLinn (Ch 6)

Hair Ruffle by SirLinn (Ch 6)

Lean on Me by SirLinn (Ch 7)

Hysterical by SirLinn (Ch 8)

CRACK! - Commissioned piece by velvetwyrme (Ch 8) -TWs: blood, child death

Papyrus holding Frisk (Ch 8) by @sunsestart (Linked and shared here with full permission- the link is just to the image address as it is not posted online.)

A Comic of chapter 9 by yesiseeinteresting

One Last Look by SirLinn (Ch 9)

*They are exhausted by SirLinn (Ch 10)

Flinch by SirLinn (Ch 10)

All Grown Up by SirLinn (Ch 11)

Safe At Last by SirLinn (Ch 12)

Heart on the Table by HumanKK (Ch 13)

Empathy by SirLinn (Ch 13)

The stuffed cat!!! by emeraldidentity (Ch 14)

The couch scene by HumanKK (Ch 14)

Still in Stripes by SirLinn (Ch 14)

Papyrus fight by HumanKK (Ch 15)

Papyrus sneaking in and Frisk by HumanKK (Ch 16)

"Everyone hurts me" by SirLinn (Ch 16)

[Friends!] by SirLinn (Ch 17)

Frisk on Undyne's shoulders by SirLinn (Ch 19)

Palpable tension - Frisk, Undyne, Papyrus at front door by @sunsestart (Ch 19) (Linked and shared here with full permission- the link is just to the image address as it is not posted online.)

Fancomic of Frisk's puppy dog eyes that Papyrus mentions in ch 19 by HumanKK

Various images from chapter 20! by HumanKK (Ch 20)

"You're on thin ice." by SirLinn (Ch 20)

Echo flower fields: collab by SirLinn and me (Ch 20)

Frisk in Pap's Boot by Jade (Chap 20)

Frisk's worst fears by HumanKK (Ch 21)

Frisk after their nightmare by cjhs-world (Ch 21)

*BAM! KAPOW!! The heroine appears! by HumanKK (Ch 24)

Various scenes up to chapter 24 by limonlupilav

No Specific Chapter:

Mr. Angel teaching Frisk to crochet by smilegirl64

Like father like sons by smilegirl64

#heart on the table #art on the table

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kazz-matazz · 1 year ago

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COOKIE OUT BOY!!!

I FINISHED IT. WITH 45 MINUTES TO SPARE. TOOK ME 8 HOURS BUT

click for quality. it looks SO much better when you click i prommy!!!

inspired by @strawberryprism's discussion about what cookies the boys would be. we have:

Oatmeal Honey cookie (Pete)

Peanut Butter cookie (Andy)

Meringue cookie (Joe) (The colors represent how meringue looks when torched!)

Shortbread (Orange) Pinwheel cookie (The stripes in his hair are the pinwheel pattern!)

its done 💪 im so happy this took SO long but we stay silly 💪 they are just cookies...escaped the oven...do not separate them!! they are a four count cookie pack!!

#fall out boy #patrick stump #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley #cookie run #fall out boy art #kaz's doodles #ignore the guitar its not the greatest!!#love how pete turned out....just sillay....#i wouldve given patrick a guitar but it wasnt working. sad #and i will sleep soon. a mimir

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rfaromance · 2 years ago

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mysme cast as webkinz

this is 100% a serious post that I am qualified to make as I have over 80 webkinz on my account

Yoosung: Golden Dox Puppy. Signature food is Extra Large Omelet.

Zen: Siberian Husky. Signature item is Arctic ATV. (It's hard to ride a motorcycle if you have 4 paws.)

Jaehee: Sugar and Spice Fawn. Signature food is Hot Cocoa Pudding Cup.

707: Tiger. Signature item is Tiger Stripe Convertible.

Jumin: White Tiger. Signature food is Roaring Steak Tartare (which he's bad at taking pictures of).

V: Camel Weimaraner. Signature item is Charming Charcoal Easel.

Ray: Marshmallow Bunny. Signature food is Miniature Marshmallow Plate.

Suit: Tuxedo Cat, Small Signature. Signature food is Sparkling Spring Water.

GE!Saeran: Brown Sugar Puppy. Signature food is Marbled Ice Cream.

Unknown: Patchwork cat. Signature food is Cat Grass Smoothie.

SE!Saeran: Woodland Raccoon, Signature. Signature food is Wild Berry Sundae.

Rika: Oatmeal Pup. Signature food is Homemade Apple Crisp.

Vanderwood: Clouded Leopard, Endangered. Signature item is Canopy Treadmill (to chase brats who aren't doing their work).

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world-of-wales · 1 year ago

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CATHERINE'S STYLE FILES - 2023

28 September 2023 || The Princeess of Wales and Prince William received Timothy Cook, Chief Executive Officer of Apple at Windsor Castle.

Catherine opted for -

↬ Double-Breasted Blazer in 'Navy Chalk Pin Stripe' by Holland Cooper

↬ High Waisted Straight Trousers in 'Navy Chalk Pin Stripe' by Holland Cooper

↬ 'Costa' Silk and Cashmere Turtleneck Sweater in 'Oatmeal' by Gabriela Hearst

↬ Medium Twist Hoop Earrings in Gold from Spells of Love

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helloliriels · 1 year ago

Note

Since you are the unofficial jumpers of Watson expert, I have a question for you.

Imagine John chooses his jumper of the day to tell Sherlock something. Like a secret language in jumpers. Which message would each of the jumpers convey?

Ooh! I like this! (and am I ?! ♡ (✿◠‿◠) ♡) honored @myriath

(omg don't look at the date) (jesus, liri) (inorite???)

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

John likes to be comfortable. Casual. But classic. But ... he's also not a HUGE fan of ironing ... hence the jumpers. Over the years, Sherlock has begun to decode the messages behind each and every one of John's jumpers. As tough, and stong, and durable as John himself. Or soft, and sexy, and tactile ... also like John ...

Sometimes, Sherlock finds a new jumper, and buys it for him. Just to learn what new message this one will carry in their lives.

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

The Oatmeal Jumper

I'm nothing. No one. Just an ordinary old man with a war injury. Useless really. Might just sit down and ... blend in. Nothing to see here, right? Wait ... why are you looking at me like I'm ... ? I'm interesting? ... me?? You do realise, it's just ... me ... ? ... right?

Maybe I'll wear it again ... just to test the hypothesis and make sure you aren't ... oh. You are ...

Well then ... I need to think about ... about this ...

The Christmas Jumper

You bought me this and didn't think I'd wear it did you? Well ... joke's on you! I think you're hot. And I'll wear this sweater, no matter how warm it is in here with this fire. Just to show you that I freaking LOVE anything you give me. Even if you don't realize yet how much I love you ... and I'll be damned if i'm even gonna try mentioning it yet! Yeah, nope ... too soon. Just flaunt the jumper.

The Blue Button Down Jumper

I'm your blogger. Your one friend. Your indispensable companion. Your conductor of light. I look good in blue? ... I do. I really do. Think I'll wear this color more often ... Your eyes ... they seem drawn to it. ... to me ... Though I can tell you're trying to show you aren't looking.

The tight layer was a good move ... Maybe I should get a few more.

The Striped Jumper

I'm so cozy around you. I just want to enjoy this morning. Have a lie in. Make breakfast. Let the world mind it's own matters today ... We have each other ... Just you and I against the world.

The Green Jumper Vest

You. Jumped. You jumped, and you made me watch. And now I'm getting married to someone else ...

... Of course I'm comfortable in my new life! See! Old man. Dressed for the part already. Ordinary plain ol' John again, remember? Just. That. Guy™. Clearly not as important as your homeless network or your favourite villain! Even your brother knew! Your damn. Brother.

He's not even looking. Not even ...

I'm burning this vest tomorrow. F*ck it. I could at least try ...

The Blue Jumper Redux

I remember you liked me in blue. How's this then? Cashmere. That's right. Two can dress to kill, mister fancy-pants! I'll wear it and wait to see what you think of it. A bit jealous, eh? heh. That's right.

I've still got it.

Maybe I'll wear this on the stag night.

Just you and me.

Once last chance to make your move.

I don't mind.

#watson's jumpers #john watson #a jumper so fine #johnlock #bbc sherlock #liri answers #long time in coming

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auxiliarydetective · 1 year ago

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Felicity: Small, Emotional, Electric

This could've been out two to three days ago if only my WiFi wasn't being so mean - I currently have about a minute of WiFi every few minutes, so I'm using that and uploading while I can

WANTED

"Desert Fox" Felicity

Bounty to be determined

Once again, huge thanks to Alvita for the template for the poster!

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They call you Cry Baby, Cry Baby But you don't even care Tears fall to the ground You'll just let them drown

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Normally, I'd put two small fics in an intro post, but the "small intro fic" accidentally turned into 4.5K words, so you can find the full fic on AO3 here!

Whereas Zoro was seemingly unbothered by the clowns manhandling him and dragging him to whatever the “green room” may be, Nami was actively struggling like a feral cat, trying to break free. If only she had claws, she would tear them to shreds. Buggy’s lair was bigger than she had thought, probably built into whatever remained of the town he had destroyed. The big top was only a small part of it. Finally, they entered a room, or rather a dark green tent, filled with equipment, crates and costumes. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling, along with various crinolines and ropes. A couple of vanity mirrors lined by lightbulbs were the only useable pieces of furniture in it. Nami saw Zoro jolt forwards in front of her, but four clowns worked together to pin him back down. They finally succeeded in pressing him against a large wooden disk with straps, one usually used in knife throwing acts. Leaning against a supporting beam were their belongings: Zoro’s swords, Nami’s staff and navigation gear. Nami, too, gave another struggle, but when she saw what was hiding in the corner of the room, she froze in terror.

Behind a wooden machine of which she didn’t even want to know what it was for stood a cage with metal bars and elaborate wooden décor. Inside the cage, however – that was what terrified Nami the most. Inside the cage sat a little girl, maybe five or six years old, with a canine nose, incredibly large furry ears atop her head and a fluffy tail emerging from her lower back. She was wearing a glittering leotard lined with fur that managed to miss all three shades of sandy blonde present in her hair, tail, and ears in an almost infuriating way, and was watching the happenings in the room through large brown eyes.

Nami didn’t even pay attention to how she was being handled as her gaze was locked on the little girl. It was only when she was lifted off the ground and forced into an oversized birdcage that she tried to fight back again. She almost succeeded, too, but the woman gripping her was incredibly strong.

“Look, kitty, now you’ve got company!” she announced without looking at the little girl. “Don’t we take good care of you, making sure you’re not alone even if you got stage fright?”

As two clowns were busy tying Zoro to his dartboard and the woman wrestled Nami into her cage, another man stayed behind, with messy scarlet hair and two-toned makeup, wearing a striped leotard and a belt with a battle-axe.

“You still aren’t eating,” he remarked in a voice as sweet as acid. “You know you’ve gotta eat. Uncle Buggy was already mad you refused to perform, so what’s he gonna say if he finds out you’re not eating either? You gotta get your strength up if you wanna put on a pretty show, tiny dancer.”

The man picked up a bowl of presumably oatmeal with a spoon in it from the floor in front of the cage. Immediately, the little girl crawled further to the back of her tiny prison, pouting.

“Afraid it’s poisoned?” the woman asked without turning away from Nami’s birdcage.

She was now busy securing a padlock to it, whereas her fellow freaks were done with their work and left. Zoro was bound tightly by the wrists with thick ropes that almost cut into his skin, and whereas he had looked fully unbothered before, he was now visibly annoyed.

The man in the striped leotard stuck a finger into the oatmeal and scooped some of it into his mouth, humming in exaggerated delight.

“Delicious! Come on, have some!”

He almost shoved the spoon into the girl’s face, causing her to retract it as far as possible. She pressed her lips shut in protest and panic, only getting worse the longer the spoon whirled around beneath the dark tip of her nose. Slowly but surely, the lights in the room started flickering, lightbulbs and fairy lights tremoring just like the girl was.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” the man cooed. “Come on, who’s a good kitty?!”

“It’s clearly a fox,” Zoro growled, causing the man to pause with the spoon less than an inch from the girl’s mouth as he looked back at him in annoyance. “And if you don’t leave her alone, I’m gonna-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before the little girl grabbed the man’s arm and yanked it aside, at the same time lunging forwards. A loud crackling sound cut through the air and one of the lights blew out as her hand made contact and the man collapsed. The bowl, however, landed safely in the girl’s clawed hand and she placed it back down, keeping the spoon in her lap.

The muscular woman gave an exasperated sigh and shoved the keys to the padlock into her pocket before turning around to the girl.

“Now, now, don’t act out like that,” she said in a low, manipulative tone. “You don’t do that to your family. You belong here, with us! We’re freaks, just like you!”

“She’s not a freak!” Nami blurted out. “She’s just a little girl! Why are you doing this to her?! Let her go!”

The woman scoffed. “Oh, she’s much more than that. She’s a monster and she’s not as little as you think. Let’s see how long it takes for your captain to break, maybe you’ll get to spend a lot of time with her.”

She grabbed her crewmate and threw him over her shoulder to carry him outside. Right before she was through the doorway, she turned around again.

“Besides, it was her choice to run away and go to sea. Wasn’t it, kitty?”

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Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene - let me know if you'd like to be added!

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece oc #opla oc #oc: felicity #photopea adventures #fyeahonepieceocs #oc intro #moodboard #playlist

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muuum-am-i-adohhhpted · 1 year ago

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Let Me Be Your Light (Empires SMP)

Summary: Twin orphans, Gem and fWhip, are the newest hires at Circo de Fantasia, a travelling circus filled with performers who have various magical abilities. However, the Mad King has been following the circus around for decades to steal the powers of various performers to take for himself. Recently, fWhip has been the most recent victim. Gem, who was born without powers and who only joined the circus to be with her brother, consoles fWhip while also realizing she may be integral to defeating the Mad King and getting everyone's abilities back.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 6797

Thank you to @mcytblraufest for hosting the event! Also absolutely huge shout-outs to my incredible artists @yoshiintheweb (art link)and @pidgedee (art here)!! The pieces look amazing!

~~~

Chapter 1

The Circo de Fantasia was a whirl of activity an hour before sundown—the time when the circus would officially open to the random city they had chosen. They were planning to stay for a week; it gave people living outside city limits time to travel to see the circus, but not too long that the performers got restless.

Multi-coloured striped tents littered the flat plot of land in organized chaos. The red-and-white big top, where the trapeze and tightrope apparatuses were set up, sat in the heart of the circus; all paths ended up there.

Gem hefted up her box of popcorn kernels further up her hip to keep it from slipping. She was heading in the opposite direction of the big top, towards the front entrance where the snack tent stood. Katherine, the strong woman, passed by with two large metal poles balanced on her shoulders like double fishing rods.

The snack tent was hard to miss. It was built to catch the eyes of anybody who passed through the main gates. The glass display was already filled with cookies, cupcakes, cotton candy, and slices of cake of all kinds of flavours. The choices were so vast that options had to be switched in and out on different days of the circus. Tonight there were oatmeal cookies, strawberry cupcakes, blueberry cotton candy, and carrot cake. The latter Gem had to be careful with—she was allergic to carrots.

There were other more exotic treats baked by the witch, Shelby: gum that, once chewed, made the consumer’s tongue a random, glowing colour; ice cream that made steam come out of a person’s ears and nose, the cone able to act like a goat horn to make various loud noises; and brownies that caused the person’s hair to float as if there were no gravity.

As Gem was putting the box of kernels away in the back as extra, Sausage appeared at the other end of the display case, Mittens the large boa constrictor twirling around his neck. The ostrich named Pippy was to his left.

Mittens let out a hiss, her tongue flicking out. Her triangular head bobbed in Gem’s direction.

“Mittens says you should check on fWhip,” Sausage translated, pursing his lips. Then, after a pause, “Tell him that, if he wants, he can help me out with my acts. I could always use more hands.”

“Thanks.” Gem gave a curt nod as Sausage continued on his way. She finished straightening out the snack tent before heading in the direction of the personal tents, way in the back of the circus.

The personal tents were much smaller and made of black material as they only had to house a bed, a dresser, and maybe a couple pieces of belongings. fWhip’s tent was right next to her own.

“fWhip,” she called out to her brother as she stood just outside his tent. “Can I come in?”

There was a muffled grunt from the other side that Gem took to be a “yes,” and so she entered.

The tent was sparsely decorated, which was to be expected. She and fWhip had only arrived at the circus two months prior, a little after their fourteenth birthdays, and they had been orphans living on the street. Not many personal belongings to spruce up the tent with. Gem’s only possession was a family picture of herself, fWhip, and their parents from Before.

fWhip himself was curled up in his bed, his red hair pointing in all directions. His face wasn’t nearly as pale as it had been a week ago at their last city, so Gem supposed that was one positive. Still, fWhip had been unusually quiet on their trip here. Gem couldn’t really blame him though—he was going through a lot.

“How are you feeling?” Gem asked quietly, sitting at the end of fWhip’s bed.

fWhip grunted again and dug his head into his pillow even more. He had mostly stayed in bed all day and the Ringmaster allowed it, saying that fWhip was grieving and needed a little more time to get back on his feet.

“Sausage told me that you could help him during his acts,” Gem said. “I know you like helping him care for the boars.” She tried to keep her voice as soothing as possible.

fWhip rolled over onto his back and his eyebrows were drawn down. “I don’t want another act,” he snapped. “I want my own one back.”

“Well, sleight of hand—”

fWhip grimaced. “I do not do sleight of hand—I mean did.” He stumbled over his words, the past tense clearly paining him to say. “There ought to be a way to get my magic back.”

Gem decided not to engage with more talk about the Mad King. Instead, she pivoted. “Just look at everybody who's lost their powers. Katherine might not be inhumanly strong anymore, but she’s worked out so much that she can still lift more than the average person can. False used to be able to fly, but now she does the trapeze. Jimmy could adjust his height at will, now he’s our contortionist.”

“But that’s the thing,” fWhip said. “Everyone already had those talents before the Mad King stole their powers. Katherine consistently exercised even when she could single handedly lift an elephant, False already swung around the forest like a monkey, Jimmy’s limbs were always freakishly flexible. Martyn didn’t grow up afraid of fire, so he can do non-magical fire acts. And Joel didn’t have to change much out of his act—just had to go on a tightrope without electricity pulsing through the rope.”

Gem had been wracking her head for an exception then finally landed on one. “Joey! He used to be able to control water and now he throws knives.”

“I don’t want to learn a new skill. I want my old one back.” fWhip finally sat up and he frowned, his eyes blazing. “You don’t understand, Gem. The magic that was inside of me, it was always there ever since I was born. I could always replace things with other objects, could always pull a pen out of someone’s pockets, put a coin in someone else’s. And now it’s just gone. You don’t have powers so you don’t understand.”

Gem blinked rapidly, not expecting her brother’s words to hurt as much as they did. Her lack of powers had been something she’d grappled with when their parents had still been alive; fWhip could do literal magic, she couldn’t. As they got older, the difference hurt less and less. Regardless, the bruise was still there.

Gem’s hands turned to fists in her skirts and she rapidly stood up. “Fine. I’ll just leave then. I’m trying to be nice and offer you some ideas on other acts you can do without your magic. And sure, I might not understand what it’s like to lose your powers, but I sure do understand what it’s like to be powerless.” Her nose crinkled as she grimaced. She yanked open the flap of fWhip’s tent. “It’s not so bad, you know, but you make it seem like the Mad King stole your life rather than your magic.”

Gem stomped away.

Chapter 2

By the time Gem changed out of her regular clothes and into her wizard’s costume (it was Circo de Fantasia; fantasy was in their name and the Ringmaster took it very seriously), the circus was about to open.

Above, dark clouds threatened to rain. Gem hoped it would hold off, at least until the end of the circus. However, despite the lack of natural light from the moon, the circus was properly lit up. Fire torches and electric lamps and fairy lights decorated the paths and tents. There was no shadowy area within the circus grounds, not even among the personal tents—especially among the personal tents.

Even though everything was well-lit (probably too lit for a night-time circus), Gem was still on edge. What if the Mad King found them again? Although he usually showed up one every two or three cities, the Ringmaster said the king was becoming more powerful due to all the magic he was stealing from people.

Scott, who was able to see a person’s magical aura due to his magical eye, said he could feel the power radiating from the King. When the Mad King had arrived last, stealing fWhip’s power, Scott had said the king’s flame burned bright and large—unnaturally strong. When Gem had questioned Scott about this when she’d just arrived at the circus, she’d asked him how it had all worked.

“It’s as if everyone has a candle inside them,” Scott had replied, looking at her with his blue eye and yellow crystal one. It had creeped her out at first; his yellow eye reminded her of a cat’s. Now, Gem was pretty used to his heterochromia. “Most people have regular flames. You know, tiny drops of fire that flicker every so often. However, others have a brighter flame, more immoveable. It’s hard to describe the difference, but those are the people with magical abilities. Those who have these abilities can train to make their fire within them stronger, but there’s a natural stopping point when it can’t get any bigger or more radiant.” Scott had shrugged.

Martyn, who had been previously rocking in his rocking chair, spoke up. His grey hair poked around his cowboy hat. He was the oldest performer at the circus by a long shot and his wrinkles grew deeper as he smiled. “Not me, though.”

“No, not Martyn,” Scott admitted. “Martyn used to be able to create and wield fire. But fire is alive and has a mind of its own. Without care, it can catch and grow out of hand. It actively fights against anything or anybody trying to control it. And, because of that, Martyn’s inner flame was much weaker since a part of his magic was fighting against the nature of fire.”

Martyn had laughed. “Now I just have to be extra careful when wielding fire; I’m not automatically fireproof nor can I douse fire with my mind!”

Returning back to the present, Gem sighed as she put in a bunch of popcorn kernels into the bright red popcorn machine behind the display of foods. Already, popcorn smell was wafting around the tent, all thanks to Shelby’s popcorn-smelling potion being released around the circus’ grounds.

The light jingle of bells announced Oli’s arrival, wearing a multi-coloured jester hat decorated with mini bells. His ukulele (dressed as a lute) was strung behind his back and multiple other instruments were hanging off his person. Trailing behind him was seven-year-old Hermes on a unicycle and wearing a similar court jester’s outfit.

“Gem!” Oli greeted with a kind smile and wave. He was a year older than Gem and that probably was one of the reasons why they got along well. “Ready for another night?”

“Of course,” Gem smiled, just as the popcorn began popping. She poured out a small cup and gave it to Hermes who took it eagerly.

Oli then became a little more serious. “And how’s fWhip doing?”

Pursing her lips, Gem responded, “Not exactly well. He’s missing his powers quite a bit. Lashing out.” She decided not to get into the details and what exact words were said.

“Dad was angry when the Mad King stole his powers,” Hermes said. “He tried to hide it from me, but I could tell it really upset him that he couldn’t do his usual tricks on the tightrope. He couldn’t clear the storms that could close the circus for the night.” The young boy frowned. “He’s happier now, I think.”

Oli patted Hermes on the back before pulling his ukulele around. He strummed out a chord and hummed along with it. He began picking at the strings, creating lyrics on the spot. Something about losing a part of yourself and never really being the same afterwards.

Tears pricked in the corner of Gem’s eyes and she sniffed violently to stop them from falling. She swatted Oli’s hat. “Stop that! You’re going to make everyone who steps inside the circus burst into tears.”

Oli placed his hands along the four strings of the ukulele to stop their vibrations before starting up a new song, much more upbeat than the last. A grin spread on Gem’s face as she felt the tune raise her spirits, joy rushing through her body.

“I wish the emotions you created stayed after you stopped your music,” Gem said with a sigh. fWhip could use some happiness in his life right now, even if it was fabricated and would evaporate as soon as Oli stopped singing or playing.

Oli shrugged, just as the first people entered the circus. “I’m only really good at temporarily changing emotions. It wouldn’t be healthy if it was permanent.”

“You’re probably right,” Gem said, readying her hands to fill bags of popcorn and hand out food for most of the night.

It wasn’t too bad, really. She liked seeing the people who entered the circus and, on the nights where they were opened multiple times in a single city, she enjoyed recognizing the people who came again and again.

People of all ages walked through the gate. A lot of the people entered were families with younger children, but older folks and adult couples oftentimes came too.

And it wasn’t as if Gem would be behind the snack tent forever. False was teaching her some trapeze moves and soon they could be a double act, flinging each other around in the sky. Gem wasn’t quite there yet, but it was exciting having future plans that weren’t just popcorn girl.

Abruptly, every light and flame in the circus went out. A dark fog appeared, making it so that the city’s light pollution was completely gone as well. There was only blackness. The brownie in Gem’s hand she was about to give to a child dropped to the ground.

Gem’s knees went weak and her mind began to race. Somewhere nearby, a kid began crying. Gem’s heart thumped, suddenly thrown back into her childhood where monsters lived in her closet and under the bed, and she had to sleep with a little light plugged in to ward away anything evil.

Panicking, she felt around until she was out of the snack tent. Light, she needed light. Blood was rushing in her ears and Gem began to run, hands out in front of her. She knew it was dangerous, that she could possibly run into someone or even a pole holding up a tent, but Gem couldn’t think straight; the only thing repeating in her mind was light. She was a moth frantically searching for a lamp.

Heat built up inside of her chest and Gem fell to her knees, gripping at her heart. Pain burned through her body, tears forcing their way out of her eyes. Was this what a heart attack felt like? Was she going to die here, in the unnatural darkness? Then, all of a sudden, there was a bright burst of golden light and Gem passed out.

Chapter 3

When Gem opened her eyes, fWhip was peering down at her, his nose practically touching her own.

She jumped, nearly smacking heads with her brother in the process. “fWhip!” she exclaimed, her voice slightly hoarse.

fWhip stood back, slightly sheepish. “Sorry,” he muttered, and Gem realized they were in her tent. “I wanted to see if you were still breathing.”

Gem squinted around the tent, in search of her clock. She finally found it, the hands telling her it was early morning. “What—what happened?” she asked. She remembered the darkness, the fear, and then the bright light.

There were footsteps outside her tent. “May Scott and I come in?” the Ringmaster said. “I can answer a few of your questions.”

“Sure,” Gem said, and waited until the Ringmaster and Scott entered.

“Are you feeling better?” the Ringmaster asked.

“Tell me what happened, please,” Gem said.

The Ringmaster sighed. “The Mad King has clearly grown stronger. He must have planned for a mass theft of magic last night. Douse all lights, steal the rest of our magic.” The Ringmaster worried his bottom lip and dark circles ran under his eyes.

Gem remembered her and fWhip’s first time at Circo de Fantasia, listening intently when the Ringmaster explained the circus’ purpose: to be a safe haven to those possessing magic.

“While having multiple magic wielders in the same space might not be ideal, the circus keeps us up at night, when the Mad King is the strongest,” the Ringmaster had told them.

“How does he find them?” Gem had asked. “How does he know who to steal from and who not to?”

The Ringmaster hadn’t said anything for a long moment. His eyes had gone far off, to a place Gem didn’t know, before finally responding by saying, “A type of hunting. Watching for inhuman abilities. Our witch, Shelby, casts a protective spell that follows the circus around and lasts a varying amount of time. She never knows when it fades away and, while she does try to reinforce it, the magic drains her a fair amount.”

Gem had furrowed her eyebrows, finding a rather large hole in the Ringmaster’s plan. “Then why are you placing yourselves all together? The Mad King has all of you in one place.”

“The Mad King steals powers easiest when his victim is asleep or unconscious—the magic flows freely then. In a circus, we’re up the whole night. Not only that, but he’s the most powerful at night when he can travel and manipulate the shadows. By day, we’re asleep and under Shelby’s magical protection.”

This conversation ran through Gem’s mind as she stared at the Ringmaster. Her eyes travelled over to Scott for a split second who was looking at her strangely and then to her brother who seemed to have decided that they were on good terms once again, their argument on the previous night forgotten.

“Okay, and? What was the bright light?”

“You,” Scott said, his eyes fixated on Gem. “Your candle’s flame is stronger. It doesn't flicker like it used to.”

Gem and fWhip instantly met each other’s gazes before Gem broke away to look at Scott. “Wait, what? Does that mean I unlocked a magical ability? Is that even possible?” The world spun; she felt like her tent was a ship’s cabin and she was seasick.

“Her power is light?” fWhip exclaimed, and Gem could hear hints of jealousy and awe in his voice.

The Ringmaster glanced over at fWhip and shook his head slowly. “Not just light. The sun.”

At this, Gem chuckled a little. “The sun?” she repeated. “It was nighttime when the bright light occurred. The sun had been down for hours.”

“The moon only shines because the sun’s rays reflect off of it,” the Ringmaster said.

Scott’s blue eye was frantic as he said, “you could be the key to defeating the Mad King. His original power is darkness and shadow, right?” He turned to the Ringmaster. “This could be a turning point. We wouldn’t have to worry about him stealing our powers.”

“If the Mad King dies, will I get my ability back?” fWhip said, his eyes lighting up; Gem hadn’t seen such hope on his face in weeks.

There was a slight lull in the conversation and Gem watched Scott’s yellow eye flick over to her once again.

“It’s possible,” the Ringmaster said slowly, turning to fWhip, clearly not wanting to get his hopes up too much. “But it’s also entirely possible that, once defeated, everyone’s powers die with him.”

The light in fWhip’s eyes suddenly dimmed and his mouth drew down in a frown. Gem wanted to say something to make him feel better, but what was there to say? He had recently lost his power and was now learning that his twin sister did have one when he’d previously thought otherwise. And, even if the Mad King was defeated, there was still no guarantee of getting his own ability back.

“At this point, the best we can hope for in killing the King is that no one else’s abilities are stolen,” Scott said. “We’ll have to get you training right away. You’re lucky False has been training you in the trapeze—being physically strong will help immensely. But Martyn might also be useful; he knows what it’s like to fight against the nature of fire. For you, Gem, you’re fighting against the nature of the sun.”

The Ringmaster rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If you could somehow focus a light blast similar to last night’s, aiming directly at the Mad King…that could be the end. Your light might be able to be the killing blow against his darkness.”

“This is perfect,” Scott said, and his voice sped up as he continued. “The Mad King has been able to extinguish any kind of light, fire and electricity, but with Gem’s power—he can’t take out the sun—we might actually have a chance of not running for our lives for an eternity.”

“There’s only one problem,” fWhip said blandly from the corner of the tent. Both the Ringmaster and Scott swivelled their heads to look at fWhip as he pointed to a bottle on the bedside table Gem had had Shelby create to glow for three hours after being shaken. “Gem’s afraid of the dark.”

Chapter 4

Gem truly thought she had grown out of that particular fear. When she thought about being scared of the dark, she remembered padding out to her parents bedroom until they bought her a mini nightlight and, even then, she’d keep her curtains open so the light emanating from the nearby buildings would keep the imaginary monsters at bay.

To be fair, Gem was no longer scared of monsters with horns and sharp teeth and one eye; it was the fact that she couldn’t see. She was completely vulnerable in the dark, unable to do anything about a hypothetical danger. Like a power-hungry king, for example.

When her and fWhip’s parents died and they were orphans on the street, Gem had just assumed the trauma of losing them overrode her fear of the dark.

Now, looking back, Gem just realized that, living on the streets, she was never truly in darkness. No matter how dark the alleyway was, there was always a streetlamp, or a building whose light was still on, or the moon and stars. Even if it was mostly dark, she was never in true darkness.

The next afternoon, Gem visited Shelby’s work tent where strange herbs and ingredients on tables were lined up in bottles and a handful of brewing stands were bubbling and steaming away.

“Do you think you could make a night-vision potion for me?” Gem asked, watching as Shelby ground up a pink flower. She was wearing a green apron with multiple pockets in the front, holding various tools and other ingredient bottles.

Shelby winced, brushing the pink dust into an empty glass bottle on the table in front of her. “It’s not going to be able to help you see when the Mad King comes back.”

Gem sighed—this was what the Ringmaster had told her earlier that day. “Still, it might give me some peace of mind, you know?”

With one hand, Shelby reached into her apron’s pocket for a bottle of mushrooms, with the other she flipped open a heavy book. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” Her eyes ran through the words on the page as she unstoppered the bottle in her hands. “I have all the ingredients, nether wart…golden carrot—”

A lump formed in Gem’s throat. “Carrot? Like, an actual carrot?”

Shelby nodded offhandedly before realization dawned on her face. Her hands stopped moving and she placed all her attention on Gem. “Wait, you’re allergic to carrots, aren’t you?”

~~~

“Were you ever afraid of anything?” Gem asked False as they stretched below the trapeze equipment. “And did you get over your fear?” Gem didn’t think False could be afraid of anything—not when she flipped and spun around in the air without a net and her power of flight stolen from her.

False thought about this for a moment, her legs straight out in front of her, her body bent forwards so that her head was touching her knees. “I used to be afraid of cats.” She turned to look at Gem with a wry smile. “If I thought I saw one out of the corner of my eye, I’d run the other way.”

Gem’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked. “And you’re no longer afraid of them? How’d you do that?”

“It took me a long time to get over that fear,” False said, then must have noticed Gem’s pinched face. “Fears don’t go away easy. You have to work at them constantly. And, even now, sometimes a cat catches me by surprise and I find myself taking steps backwards.”

Gem flopped down on her back and sighed. “Then how am I supposed to get over my fear? The Mad King could be here tonight and I need to be there to defeat him.”

False pursed her lips and put a comforting hand on Gem’s arm. “You aren’t alone in this fight. When the Mad King comes, everyone will be there. My advice for you? Go talk to Lizzie; she might be able to help. She did for me, and not just because she has cat characteristics.”

Gem still wasn’t sure. “How? Even if fortune telling could help me, she’s not actually a real one.”

“I know, but she gives solid advice. I think she might be helpful.”

“Well, if you say so.” If False said Lizzie could help, Gem would take her word for it. Clearly something had worked if False got over her fear of cats with Lizzie, a woman who was like a cat.

Gem and False then spent the next hour flying on the trapeze, letting go and catching each other in mid-air. She could feel the wind in her hair, her stomach dropping when she let go of the bar of a split second, then the satisfaction of connecting with False’s hands. It was nice to get her mind off of something that wasn’t related to the Mad King.

~~~

On her way to Lizzie’s tent, Gem passed the Ringmaster, hurrying in the opposite direction. When Gem turned the corner and walked a couple more steps, Sausage and the Ringmaster were speaking together in low tones, head bent together. While Gem didn’t know the specifics of the Ringmaster’s power, perhaps it was teleportation? Although, she had never seen this happen before.

Deep in thought, she almost bumped into fWhip.

“Where are you headed in such a hurry?” fWhip asked. While her brother’s complexion was a little less sickly, there were still dark circles under his eyes.

Gem desperately wanted to go to Lizzie’s as soon as possible, but she couldn’t find it in herself to brush off her brother. She was so in her head about her own issues, but fWhip was also going through difficulties. “I’m heading to Lizzie’s for advice. Wanna come?”

fWhip looked just as skeptical as Gem felt, but shrugged. “I suppose. Nothing else better to do.”

As they walked shoulder-to-shoulder, Gem asked, “so, did you take up Sausage’s offer?” She felt like she knew the answer, but she hoped nonetheless.

fWhip snorted. “No.”

Gem sighed, but didn’t push further. She didn’t want to get in another fight. She needed her brother to be here with her, just like she knew fWhip needed her as well (despite thinking otherwise).

Lizzie’s tent was an elaborate deep pink and, during the nights, a fine fog emanated from it (curtesy of one of Shelby’s potions). Out front, “Mystic Mary’s Fortune Telling” was written on a sign.

Inside, there was a little table filled with strange objects, a glass ball, and a stack of cards. Lizzie herself was curled up in the back, in a nest of blankets. As soon as Gem and fWhip entered, her eyes shot open, showing off her vertical pupils.

“Oh, it’s just you two,” Lizzie said, and she unfurled herself so she could stand. She was shorter than both Gem and fWhip. “I assume you aren’t here for a reading.”

“False told me you helped her get over her fear of cats,” Gem explained as Lizzie sat down on a stool behind the table. Gem decided to take the other chair, leaving fWhip standing. “She said you might be able to give me advice about my current...issue. You see, I’m scared of the dark. I don’t think I’m going to be strong enough to handle being completely in the dark and focus a blast powerful enough to kill the King.”

Idly, Lizzie picked up the stack of tarot cards, beginning to shuffle them. Gem could see how people thought Lizzie was a legitimately skilled fortune teller. “Well, that’s easy.”

“It is?” fWhip said, and Gem turned her head slightly to see that her brother’s eyes were focussed entirely on Lizzie’s hands, moving the cards around. Yearning was clear in his gaze.

“Well,” Lizzie amended, “it’s quite difficult to get over fears quickly. There’s not exactly a way to shortcut those kinds of things.”

Gem deflated.

“But that’s not what I’m talking about,” Lizzie continued. “The Mad King is the strongest at night, right? So just don’t fight him then. Lure him out and then when it’s day—when you’re the most powerful—land the final blow.”

Chapter 5

Gem didn’t have to wait long for the Mad King to strike. In the two weeks leading up to it, her days consisted of being with False and becoming physically stronger, and being with Martyn to become mentally stronger and able to create balls of light between her hands.

“You’ve got to believe in yourself,” Martyn had told Gem, out in the back field behind the circus one afternoon. “You’re fighting against the sun; you’re taking light for yourself. Even using a miniscule amount needs willpower.”

Gem who, at that point, hadn’t been able to conjure more than foggy beams of light since that night she realized her powers was close to quitting for the day. “Why can’t this be easier? Why can’t the sun just let me take some of its light?”

“The sun ain’t exactly listening to your prayers,” Martyn had replied with, and he’d adjusted his cowboy hat on his head that he wore, even outside of his fire performance. “It’s a game of tug o’ war and you have to come out victorious.”

“Well, what did you do in the beginning to create fire and control it?” Gem had asked. “How did you even start?”

Martyn had given Gem a wry grin. “Anger. I focussed all the emotion I felt about being supplanted in my town into the palms of my hands. Fire really reacted to it; it crackled and popped so much so that I burned down a forest. But it was a start.”

Gem had frowned. “Doesn’t exactly seem very healthy.”

“Well of course it wasn’t. But it was the match strike I needed. Now I just think about the adrenaline I feel during each of my performances.”

It had taken a moment to search for anger, something to latch on to. Gem wasn’t a naturally angry person. fWhip had come to mind and the fact that all he wanted to do was wallow, but that really wasn’t fair. Gem wanted what was best for her brother and she couldn’t expect him to just get over it.

Finally, Gem had found something. The Mad King. The man who had taken so many people’s powers—probably too many to count now. Who had stolen from so many good people; who had taken from her brother. Who would continue taking until he had consumed all of it. And, if it ever got to that point, would the Mad King even be satisfied?

That had been the turning point. A great ball of light formed above her open palms.

~~~

Everyone knew distracting the Mad King until daylight would be difficult, but they all had a plan.

And so, when the circus descended into darkness, everyone was ready. All the patrons ran off once they realized it wasn’t a part of the show, afraid out of their wits. Lizzie, with her uncanny sense of who was around her, led half of the performers with powers away from the King while Scott, whose eye gave him the ability to see everyone’s flames—shrouded by darkness or not—took the other half.

Everyone else was on distraction duty.

The only exception to this rule was the Ringmaster and Sausage, who asked help from bats so they could navigate without seeing. The two of them went off on their own and Gem didn’t question it at the time, although now she was wondering if it was safe to do so.

Gem had tried to persuade the Ringmaster to have fWhip be with her; she didn’t know what she’d do with herself if something happened to him. But the Ringmaster assured her that fWhip was in good hands. Katherine’s hands to be exact.

Somewhere to Gem’s left, she could hear Oli humming a song under his breath, her anxiety about being thrust into the darkness once again lessening.

“Shhh,” Lizzie hissed, and Oli instantly stopped and Gem felt the hairs on her neck rising, her heartbeat speeding up. She gripped onto Hermes’ hand as tightly as he was holding hers.

Suddenly, there was a lot of jostling as people tripped over each other’s feet and, over the slight din of the nearby city, Lizzie said, “quickly. Turn left.”

Gem followed the group as best she could, feeling everyone around her adjust to Lizzie’s instructions. That was when she heard fWhip’s voice nearby. Gem couldn’t exactly make out what he was saying, but her body went stock still when she heard the next voice.

“You’re the little boy who I stole from last time at this wretched circus, aren’t you?” The voice was gravelly and deep.

Instantly, Gem yanked herself from Hermes’ grip and ran blindly towards the Mad King and her brother. She knew this wasn’t a part of the plan; the plan was to keep moving around the empty field and outskirts of town until the sun broke through the horizon. But the Mad King did not mention Katherine, and Gem needed to be there with fWhip if Katherine wasn’t.

Gem kept the layout of the circus in mind, forcing herself to take quiet breaths and knowing she was coming upon a turn. Slowly, she crept forward with her arms outstretched until she felt the smooth material of the side of Oli and Hermes’ clown tent.

“I see,” the Mad King said once again. “The silent treatment.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” fWhip’s voice came out hard and almost annoyed. “Haven’t you ravaged this circus enough? Aren’t you powerful enough?”

The Mad King laughed—and Gem stopped in her tracks. His laugh was terrifyingly confident, as if he already knew what would happen. That he would consume Gem’s power and he’d be able to steal people’s abilities for an eternity. “Boy, there’s never enough. There will never be enough powers to take. Nothing will ever be enough for me. Just how nothing will ever be enough to satiate the space in you that was previously filled by your powers.” There was a pause. “But I can make you a deal.”

Gem felt rooted to her spot, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of fear. It was dark, the Mad King was just over there, and he was speaking to fWhip, one-on-one. She could barely hear her own tumbling and twisting thoughts.

The Mad King continued. “I can give you any power you want, however many you want. Your old powers back, telekinesis, super strength, shapeshifting…” Another pause. “All you have to do is bring me your sister.”

Gem’s heart dropped to her feet. fWhip wouldn’t…would he? Ever since her brother’s powers were stolen, just how many times had he complained? How many times had he told her that he wanted his powers back?

“Any power I want?” fWhip’s voice was suddenly meek.

Gem’s mouth felt impossibly dry.

“Your wish is my command.”

There was a third painstakingly long pause before fWhip replied with a snort. “Yeah, no thanks. I’ll get over my lack of ability, but I could never forgive myself for giving Gem up to you.”

The Mad King didn’t seem all that upset. “Plan B, I suppose. A lot less dramatic, but it’ll have to do.” And there was a snapping sound.

The darkness dropped away. One moment, Gem was surrounded by nothingness. The next, the beautiful sky, stars, and moon, and the tents of Circo de Fantasia.

Gem, who had been at the edge of the tent, suddenly came face to face with the Mad King, floating a couple of feet off the ground. He was wearing all-black armour and only his mouth was visible. It curled into a satisfied grin. “Hello Gem.”

fWhip’s head spun around and his eyes widened. “Gem!” he exclaimed, and ran towards her.

Gem came to the too-late realization that the Mad King had wanted her to overhear him. If fWhip agreed to the King’s terms, Gem would have been beside herself and therefore an easy target. And, if fWhip hadn’t, Gem would still be within distance.

Like she was right now.

The Mad King still wasn’t moving, although his smile was more than a little unnerving. “It’s time for me to snuff out your light,” he said.

“Oh no you don’t,” the Ringmaster’s voice said, coming out from the tent Gem was standing next to. And he let out an ear-piercing whistle.

Another Ringmaster came out of the tent to Gem’s right, and the other tents lining the pathway. Sausage’s llamas came bounding around a corner, Sausage himself riding one with a sort of wooden staff in his hands, a cyan gem between the curved top.

Gem rubbed her eyes as a dozen Ringmasters appeared.

The Mad King looked at them all thoughtfully. “Do you like each time I consume a Pixlriffs’ power, my time travelling ability will grow stronger—?”

Sausage raised his staff and a blue light shot directly at the Mad King’s back, immobilizing him.

The Ringmaster closest to Gem turned to her as the rest of the Ringmasters began to surround the slowly descending King. “The Staff of Sanctuary, an old relic from Sausage’s past, won’t last long against him—he’s consumed too many powers. I know we wanted to wait until day, but it’s just not possible anymore. You must defeat him now.”

Gem shuddered and glanced up before looking over at fWhip who looked just as bewildered as Gem felt. He gave her a thumbs up. Gem returned it with a strained smile.

She was grateful the King’s darkness was no longer a factor. She was surrounded by friends—multiples of friends—and her brother. She was standing within circus grounds, with its comforting light and brightly coloured tents. This was her home.

Gem took a deep breath, feeling her palms grow hot. Instead of finding anger within herself to unlock her light, she found something else. Something harder to find, but stronger.

Hope.

She could do this. Even if it was dark, Gem had a feeling she could conjure light even then. Her brother would never betray her, despite being at first doubtful. But she never should have been skeptical of him.

Gem felt her eyes flutter closed. She didn’t see the light, but she felt it as it blasted out of her hands and into the Mad King. Her eyelids flashed a bright orange.

When she re-opened them, Ringmasters were gently fading into mist. Gem’s head pounded, her hands felt raw and dry.

“What’s happening to them?” fWhip asked to no one in particular.

The Ringmaster closest to Gem replied, “going home. They’ve been stuck here for years. Every time I’ve tried to see past the moment the Mad King tries to bribe you, I couldn’t see. It fogs up. Stuck in this moment.” He smiles. “Now everything’s changed.”

“And everyone’s powers?” Gem asked, feeling a yawn coming on.

fWhip grinned and Gem suddenly felt a heavy rock appear in her pocket. “Guess,” he said.

Gem smiled back, letting out her yawn.

“Alright let’s get to bed,” fWhip said, and the rock disappeared from Gem’s pocket. He steered her shoulders in the direction of her tent. “You should definitely rest.”

And, as Gem closed her tent’s flap to collapse into bed, the sun began to rise.

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