#a group of fairies is called a dazzle now

[magicae-est-realis]

Okay, so fairies.

We never meet a male fairy in Fablehaven right? Raxtus and possibly the Astrids aside. The Fairy king, as a unicorn, does not count.

So how do they reproduce?

This was meant to be a teeny-tiny single paragraph. I failed.

Note for googled flower meanings-

Meadowsweet (useless)

Geranium (stupid/idiot)

Yellow carnation (I am disappointed in you)

Bilberry (traitor)

Kendra, after Zzyzx, is told in no uncertain terms by literally everyone that despite the fact that she herself is the Fairy Queen's Handmaiden, she needs a handmaiden of her own. It's one of the laws of the Fairy Kingdom, and no, there is no way around this.

Of course, they neglect to tell her that it only became a law after she picked up a random incredibly powerful magical artifact she borrowed from her brother, a child, and acted on her poorly planned (though admittedly effective) impulse to charge the biggest, baddest, most evil being on a battlefield she shouldn't even be on in an outnumbered hopeless war she shouldn't be in, and commit regicide.

This ruffled a few feathers.

Among everyone.

Adults were caught between offence that a tiny almost-human child did what they couldn't in less than five minutes and horror that Kendra was there at all.

Children were simply jealous that they didn't think of it first.

Kendra was, naturally, rather annoyed about the ridiculous law, because "why on earth does a handmaiden need her own handmaiden? I killed Gogrog! I can take care of myself!"

This did not help her case, as the entire reason behind the law was to prevent such a scenario from repeating itself, or if this wasn't possible, to provide support. And reinforcements. Lots and lots of reinforcements.

It was the product of the entire population of the Light Kingdom agreeing simultaneously (a rare, history-making event as the Centaurs and Satyrs in particular were known for always choosing opposing arguments on principal) and it came from a mix of spite for the aforementioned offense-at-Kendra-being-more-capable-than-them and of them being quite fond of her by this stage and not wanting her to inadvertently kill herself though sheer stupidity.

Though most did admit that naming her 'secret' backup a 'handmaiden' was poorly thought out, the general idea remained the same, and the general Plan been in discussion for some time before Bracken panicked when Kendra tried to go talk to the Brownies by herself, drew upon said discussions, and told her if she hadn't yet chosen her handmaiden, she needed to take him as backup at least.

Which was how Kendra learnt about the law for the first time (though Bracken had the foresight to not mention the recency of the law's creation and led her to believe it had been around for a very long time), pitched a fit about the very idea of being constantly followed, and tried to ask the nearby fairies to tell Bracken she didn't need a handmaiden of her own.

The fairies, of course, wholeheartedly agreed with Bracken and the Plan and were wary of disagreeing with their royalty anyway, so the matter was taken to the Naiads, then the Satyrs, then the Dryads, the Centaurs, the Nipsies, every human in the preserve including Kendra's family (Kendra had hoped that Vanessa at least would defend her to spite Bracken, and was sorely disappointed), the Brownies (with Bracken after she begrudgingly allowed him to come with) and each time the matter was discussed, Kendra was given the same unwavering agreement that yes, she needed her own handmaiden.

In a final act of desperation, Kendra dragged a bemused but increasingly smug Bracken off by his arm, shoved him into the little paddleboat she'd used the first time she crossed the lake, and paddled her way over to Fablehaven's Shrine.

In hindsight, the fact that the Naiads actively helped her get to the island should have been a warning written in neon lighting on a massive billboard telling her "KENDRA NO" in all-caps with confetti, glitter bombs and a blaring siren to accompany it.

As it was, Kendra noticed and dismissed the aid because she was desperate, and didn't care enough about small details like this when she felt desperate, though she probably should have learnt better by now, considering that this tendency had led to her dismissing the high probability of drowning and death-by-dandelion-fluffage during the Muriel Incident (separate to The Cow Incidents as they were more traumatising), dismissing Warren's injuries and Seth's unconscious state in the Hell Cat Temple and Revenant Incident, dismissing the fact that Chalize agreed to let them through too easily in the Lost Mesa Incident, dismissing any possibility of paradoxes or worse, Seth playing with and managing to work the Chronometer in the Shadow Plague Incident, dismissing the thought that she was legally dead or that she should learn how to fold a paper plane before using them as an escape attempt during and after the Kidnapping Incident, that...

You get the point.

(You may also notice that Fablehaven residents had a propensity for naming any serious events 'Incidents', as Warren wholeheartedly believed that it was a less traumatising phrase than 'Disaster', 'Catastrophe', or 'Serious Event'. The only allowance made for varying severity was whether or no the 'the' in front was capitalised, such as how the Lost Mesa Incident and the Muriel Incident were not capitalised, but The Cow Incidents and The Zzyzx Incident were.)

Anyway, Kendra should have known better. But she persisted, and so she was left dragging a slightly damp Bracken out of the paddleboat (one of the Naiads tried unsuccessfully to flirt with him).

It was only as they were standing in front of the Shrine and a cool breeze and distinctly amused Presence declared the Fairy Queen's attention that Kendra realised it had, perhaps, been a poor decision, as her sort-of boss could definitely command Kendra to just choose a handmaiden already and she would have to.

And that is exactly what happened.

Kendra sulked for the next day and ate whole roll of cookie dough afterwards.

But after her obligatory day of sulking, Kendra simply sighed, begrudgingly accepted her fate, and asked Bracken what the process was.

Bracken was absolutely thrilled to detail what needed to be done, though there wasn't all that much to it on Kendra's end. All she needed to do was pick a fairy ("yes, Kendra. It needs to be a fairy to serve the Fairy Queen's handmaiden!"), ask the fairy to see if she agreed ("easiest part- everyone wants the position for the bragging rights alone") and after the selection was made, tell either Bracken or his mother, and they'd do the rest.

It took Kendra less than a minute to find Shiara and ask her, and found Bracken had been correct in saying she'd agree.

And that was that.

So it was to this arrangement that Kendra found herself in towards the end of the summer following The Zzyzx Incident, as she woke up from a pleasant nap in the striped hammock she'd strung between two trees on the boundary of the garden a few weeks before with a tiny face surrounded by a shock of short blue hair hovering just above her nose.

This didn't surprise her anymore, as she'd long since grown used to (but not fond of) Shiara's wake-Kendra-up technique.

Kendra, never fond of being woken up, simply groaned and dramatically flung an arm over her face, forcing Shiara to flit out of the way. The fairies' dramatic flair had begun to infect her, and she was well on her way to becoming a theatre kid if she ever got the legally dead mess fixed.

Shiara simply poked Kendra's nose where it peeked out from under her arm.

"Hey, no sleeping on me now! I just heard from Yolie, who heard from Poza, who heard from Timela, who heard from-"

"Shiara, I say this with love, but please get to the point." Shiara simply huffed.

"Fine! Larina and Ilyana's daughter just hatched! We have to see her! The last baby hatched years ago! This is the first child anyone has even considered having since you and Seth first arrived, since you turned everything upside-down and you know we don't really like change. And she'll be the first baby hatched since we moved into our new kingdom, too!"

Kendra immediately sat bolt upright, forgetting she was in a hammock, and promptly fell face-first onto the grass. Uncaring, she scrambled to her feet.

"Where?! Where are they? How small is she? Ooooo she must be tiny! And how do you know she's a girl if you haven't seen her yet? Come on, come on, come on, come on, Shiara!"

The fairy simply laughed in delight, and darted off in the direction of the secret garden, which Kendra had been amazed to discover after becoming Fairy-kind, as it definitely hadn't existed there before.

Apparently, the garden existed in a pocket dimension connected to a small square piece of the earth similar to the rucksack, was only accessible by or even visible to a fairy, and was under many, many extremely heavy enchantments and protections laid by the Fairy Queen herself, making it one of the safest locations on the preserve. Kendra had always wondered why, and realising now that it was probably to protect baby fairies made perfect sense.

Kendra and Shiara made it to the garden in record time, to see a crowd of brightly coloured fairies creating a near solid rainbow wall around the entrance.

Briefly, Kendra wondered if she could get them to line up in rainbow order to create a mini Fablehaven pride parade.

Shiara looked at the wall blocking her way to the baby, set her face and puffed up, her hair standing on end like she'd been shocked, in her 'getting stuff done' pose.

"All right everyone, make a path! Kendra's coming through and I won't hesitate to hex anyone who doesn't move fast enough!"

It was almost comical how quickly the alarmed fairies scarpered. Admittedly, Shiara had been granted a supposed 'level-up' as Seth called it after becoming her handmaiden, but Kendra hadn't thought it was enough to intimidate an entire dazzle of excited fairies.

Apparently she'd thought wrong.

Kendra hurried through the gap created for her, Shiara leading the way, until she arrived at a small flowering shrub with a tiny but elaborate nest woven into it in a fork of three near horizontal branches near the middle.

The nest was reminiscent of a bird's nest, but no bird had ever woven a house with a braided domed roof, porch (complete with railing around two of the three sides and a handful of woven chairs), tiny perfectly round windows, a tiny perfectly round door, and a three separate rooms.

It brought to mind a Hobbit hole, though Kendra would never dream of voicing the thought after the rant about Tolkien she'd received the time she'd compared a long-haired fairy's fussiness about hair braiding to a Dwarf.

Shiara landed on the porch delicately, waited by the door, and softly called to Larina, an especially large orange and gold hummingbird fairy, to ask if she could enter.

At the soft assent she received, Shiara hopped gently into the house, arranging her wings so they didn't touch the walls, and disappeared.

A second later she popped out again, looking flustered and embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Kendra. I forgot you can't come in. Oh, bother." Poor Shiara was wringing her hands and looking incredibly distressed, and Kendra was about to tell her not to worry, that she could go in and look without her, when Ilyana's voice piped up, and the second hummingbird fairy shining an iridescent turquoise, blue and green stepped out.

"Kendra? You're here? Oh! Wait right here, we'll bring her right outside to you so you can meet her! It must be a blessing to have the Fairy Queen's own chosen handmaiden visit!" Kendra didn't even have time to take a breath before the delighted fairy had disappeared back into her little house, presumably to fetch her daughter.

Shiara positively beamed at the solution, and was almost vibrating with excitement. In no time at all, both Ilyana and Larina reappeared carrying a tiny bundle, which they gently deposited in a small bowl Kendra hadn't noticed before on the porch, lined in soft down from the adults' wings. It must be the fairy equivalent of a crib, Kendra mused, craning her head excitedly to spot the baby.

Shiara was already hovering over the mini nest, cooing in delight with her wings and hair fluttering rapidly the way they did when she became excited. It had been a strange sight the first time she'd seen it, but Kendra had quickly learnt that most butterfly and moth fairies' short hair acted the way antennae did on the actual insects they took after, while fairies whose animal counterparts didn't have antenna simply had long hair.

She was chattering excitedly with Larina while Ilyana, as the most calm fairy of the group, simply stood and listened.

"... and of course, when she heard about the egg, Her Majesty let Ilyana take time off the construction and purification works to..."

"... oh yes, the new realm! How is it going? I haven't had time to visit for ages it must be coming along beautifully by now, especially with a commander as brilliant as your Ilyana leading the river works..."

Despite both fairies seeming to talk over and interrupt one another constantly, neither lost track of the convoluted conversation that seemed to be equal parts flattery and inquiries to the other's health.

It had taken some time for Kendra to get the hang of the confusing way the fairies talked to each other well enough to follow a conversation, and was constantly in awe of their perfect recall. She could question Shiara about exactly what Larina had talked about in a week, and she'd be able to recite their conversation just as perfectly (and confusingly) as when it had been said.

It took a few minutes of craning and careful eavesdropping to find a position where Kendra could see between the three adult fairies on the porch into the nest, and when she did, she was... surprised, to say the least.

The baby was absolutely miniscule, about the length of Ilyana's forearm, a small pink blob of skin that was completely blind and hairless. Kendra thought she was wingless, too, until the baby shifted and two tiny nubs that looked like naked chicken wings showed themselves on her back.

She didn't quite know how to react.

"She looks a bit like a baby bird," Kendra mused.

Three fairies stared at her, matching looks of incredulity on each face.

"That's because she is a baby bird, Kendra." Shiara deadpanned.

Kendra was beyond confused by this stage.

"I thought she was a baby fairy?"

Ilyana and Larina shared a mildly concerned look.

"Um... Kendra, you do know how fairies are born, right?" Of the two, Ilyana apparently possessed the most tact, likely due to her high position in the Fairy Queen's army.

Kendra's confused face apparently gave away the fact that no, ladies, I don't know how fairies are born because I am a human and nobody has explained this to me. Larina began to politely recite each and every one of Silvian's swear word equivalents, which really just meant she was telling Kendra how disappointed in her she was in flowers.

"...meadowsweet, geranium. Argh, yellow carnations, Kendra! I was hoping I wouldn't have to have this conversation for years."

"Um, sorry?"

Larina sighed. "No, you're not. But that's okay, we probably need the practice anyway, we don't want to traumatise our daughter by accident."

Kendra was becoming slightly concerned by this stage, because this really didn't sound like an enjoyable conversation. Shiara edging away slowly only fuelled this conviction.

"Ah, I think I have something... important to do. Like... watching the grass grow?"

"Not so fast, bilberry. It's because you neglected to explain this to her beforehand that we're in this position in the first place." Larina puffed her large wings out intimidatingly (for a fairy) to highlight her point. Ilyana was simply standing with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose to alleviate stress, as she had been since the start of the conversation.

Shiara winced and sat down on a tiny woven chair with decidedly less grace than usual, and all three fairies turned back to look at Kendra with varying levels of trepidation. Kendra hoped fervently that Warren and Seth never ever heard of this incident, which was quickly working its way to a capital 'I'.

Ilyana sighed, removed her hand from her nose, and stepped forward.

"I... really don't know how to start this. Er, so. Um. Well, you know how we're a species of females, right? There are no male fairies," at this she paused a nodded to Shiara "your son exempt, of course-"

"You have a son, Shiara?!"

"You know I do! You've met him! Raxtus took us to see Inside Out at that drive-in cinema!" Kendra was borderline panicking by this stage.

"But he's Celebrant's son! I thought you just raised him!"

"Exactly!" Shiara huffed.

"How does that work, then?!"

"If you would let me explain," Ilyana interrupted with a sharp voice that silenced the conversation, "because we're all female, we can't exactly have kids ourselves in the way you... mammals... do." She looked mildly nauseous. Kendra felt the same. It had definitely become an Incident.

"We can't have the kids ourselves, so we... adopt, for lack of a better term. A single fairy, or multiple in a relationship- like Larina and I- who want a child go find a compatible egg from a flying creature of some sort. A small one, like a bird, or a butterfly." At this, Larina and Ilyana both looked at a blushing Shiara. "Not a Dragon."

"Though I have to admit, watching her incubate him was hilarious. She had to perch on the top, like an ant on Hugo's head." Larina interjected with a snicker. Shiara did not look pleased with the analogy.

"Anyway," Ilyana continued "once we find our egg, we use our magic to incubate it. The magic turns the baby from a caterpillar or a chick or a larva to a fairy, and they mature similarly, too. A hummingbird egg, like ours, will hatch into a hummingbird fairy, and a butterfly egg with hatch into a butterfly fairy-"

"-caterpillar, really-" Shiara interjected.

"Fine, a caterpillar fairy that will go through metamorphosis and become a butterfly fairy-"

"-and a Dragon egg apparently hatches a... you know, I'm not entirely sure I know what to classify Raxtus as, Shiara."

"Go with Dragon, it's what I do."

"No wonder Raxtus is so confused. Um, does he know the reason he turns into a fairy instead of a human is because you're his mother?" Kendra inquired.

Shiara paused. "Er-"

"Let's take that as a no, with her track record." Ilyana sighed. "Someone's going to have to break the news to him and oh bother, he'll sulk and go through one of those dramatic 'oh woe is me, my life is hopeless and confusing and the world isn't what I though it was' phases again. I hoped we were past them after he reached adulthood."

"Oh wow, Shiara. You really messed up this time. He's been thinking he's a failure of a Dragon for so long, and all this time, he's just been a... hybrid, I suppose, not really a Dragon at all, and didn't even know it." Larina looked positively gleeful. It was, perhaps, not the best or most reassuring reaction, but she was still a fairy after all and no matter how nice, they were still petty troublemakers at heart.

Shiara was growing steadily paler. She looked like she was contemplating agreeing the next time Seth asked if she could use her magic to turn him into "something cooler than a walrus, please" and embracing Grandma's fury when she inevitably found out. Kendra was becoming rather concerned for her friend, and tried to change the discussion to save her.

"So why is Raxtus a boy then?"

"Oh, yes, he's a special case. Shiara only began to incubate him near the end of this egg phase, so he was already almost fully developed by then and wasn't able to become female. He got his fairy traits in his avatar's appearance and his breath magic instead. But normally, we adopt eggs almost as soon as they're laid, with agreement from their parents of course, so they are fully female fairies from the start."

Kendra was beginning to feel very sorry for Raxtus by this stage. Maybe she'd get him a movie voucher. Or five. It wouldn't be easy to learn you were actually a different species, and your adopted mother is actually also your second biological mother.

Since her original conversation diversion hadn't really worked, she tried again.

"Have you named your daughter yet? And what kind of fairy will she be?"

Ilyana and Larina immediately perked up, and Shiara shot a grateful look to Kendra. Maybe she would be forgiven for not knowing where baby fairies came from.

"Well, we were thinking of waiting to announce it once when everyone is present, but since it's you who's asking..." Larina's wings raffled with excitement, dropping a small piece of down which she immediately picked up and placed in the baby's nest.

"Her name is Emralis, Kendra. And she'll be a hummin- ow! Larina!- A hummingbird fairy, like us." Ilyana glared at her partner, where she was tucking the down she'd plucked from Ilyana's wings alongside what was already in the nest.

"Sorry, I just saw the perfect feather showing, and it was probably going to fall out anyway next time you groomed." Larina really didn't sound too sorry, Kendra mused.

By this time, Kendra and Shiara had already been visiting with the fairies for about half an hour, and Kendra was beginning to worry she and Shiara would be mobbed by the horde of angry fairies waiting outside for their turn to meet Emralis.

She said as much to Shiara, who simply laughed and told Kendra she could handle them, though she did begin to wrap up the slightly disturbing conversation about how to wean babies off Viola's milk to the garden aphids of all things before starting on solid foods she had struck with a concerned Ilyana and Larina.

It was another fifteen minutes before they said their goodbyes, promising the new family they'd visit again tomorrow.

Several hours later, Kendra was sitting at the massive dinner table the Brownies had built to accommodate everyone on the preserve with Shiara seated at the mini table and chair that had been built on top of the main table for her to Kendra's left. Warren, Bracken, Seth, Dale, Grandpa, Marla, the Larsons and Vanessa had already seated themselves, while Grandma, Scott and Tanu bustled around the kitchen, after chasing everyone else out with the terrifying egg beaters the Brownies had added knives to for exactly that purpose.

In no time at all, the table was groaning with food, and everyone was digging in like they'd never eaten before.

"So," Grandma Sorenson began "did anybody learn anything interesting today?" Grandma had become obsessed with asking a similar question each night, after reading that it 'helped family bonding' and 'increased positivity and thankfulness' in a household. It was the bane of everyone else's day, because everyone had to give an answer or the knife-beaters came out.

Nobody messed with the knife beaters.

Shiara perked up at the question.

Kendra paled.

Shiara waved her hand wildly, asking to be chosen first.

Grandma Sorenson looked delighted and agreed.

Kendra made a desperate grab for Shiara.

Kendra missed.

And Shiara started to talk about the Baby Fairy Education Incident.

Nobody ever let Kendra live it down. (Though Shiara was ribbed plenty for neglecting to tell her son he was half fairy.)

[666writingcafe]

The Kingsblood Crucible

MC

I'm not gonna lie, I'm a bit annoyed. I get that Diavolo can't control the exact time of his trial, but did it really have to be mere moments after I woke up from the coma that Nightbringer put me in? It's almost like the universe is playing some sort of sick joke on me.

At least I'm able to eat the food Lucifer brought before Diavolo and I leave.

Once the two of us arrive at the royal tomb, we walk inside and go up to the statue of the Fairy King. According to the research I've done beforehand, the land that makes up the Devildom used to belong to him, but then one day a demon gave him some wine made from his own blood, putting the king into a deep sleep. The demon stole all of his land, thus becoming the first ever king of the Devildom.

Diavolo turns and gives me a ceremonial knife, and I draw a line on the palm of his hand.

"Fairy King, I present you with the blood that courses through my veins. My name is Diavolo, descendant of the rightful King of the Devildom and heir to the royal legacy."

The statue absorbs his blood, and its eyes remain closed. So far, so good.

Suddenly, the statue issues an order: prove thy virtue and thy destiny. The royal tomb is momentarily plunged into darkness before revealing...

Oh no. I've seen this before. Question is, why is the Fairy King showing us this particular memory?

"Oh, Lucifer," Diavolo whispers. "To think I'd have to see you like this again. The way you looked on this day..." He's holding back tears. I gently pat his shoulder as a way of letting him know that it's okay.

"I don't remember being so angry," he quietly observes.

"You weren't," I respond. After a brief moment of confusion, Diavolo nods his head.

"Of course. That makes a lot of sense. Do the others know?" He's referring to Barbatos and Thirteen being aware of my relation to Lilith.

"Yes. Lucifer suspects it, but I've been able to get him off my case for now."

"Good. He can't figure that out. Not yet, anyway."

"I am sure there could be no greater disgrace to one such as yourself, he who was once celebrated as the pride of the Celestial Realm," the memory of Barbatos states before turning to face the two of us. "However, it's far too little given the circumstances. Wouldn't you agree, Young Master?"

A shiver runs up my spine as Diavolo's eyes widen.

"This isn't how I remember it going--" he starts to tell me. Barbatos--or rather, a fake version of Barbatos--interrupts,

"The Celestial Realm has already rendered its judgement. Her punishment has been decided. If you willfully ignore that and choose to help her, it will mean war between the Devildom and Celestial Realm."

"I'm aware, but--"

"--but these dazzling jewels from the heavens have landed on your doorstep, and you must have them." The smile on fake Barbatos' face is rather eerie. If I didn't promise Diavolo to stay by his side through this trial, I'd start running.

"No matter the price, no matter how many demons must be sacrificed in exchange, you want these seven brothers for yourself," he continues. "And I know exactly why."

"Barbatos, stop. Don't do this." I see the fear in Diavolo's eyes, which means the illusion can, too.

And it will do anything in its power to use that fear against him.

I don't recall seeing anything about witnesses being allowed to help candidates pass the Kingsblood Crucible, but there also wasn't a rule prohibiting it, either. Should I take the risk?

"It's all about being a great demon, one who's worthy to call himself the Demon King's son. Isn't that right?"

Screw it. I'm not about to let an illusion lie to Diavolo like that.

"Don't listen to him," I tell the prince.

"They're so rare and beautiful. It's hard not to compare them to gemstones. If you were to command a group of demons like that, your esteemed father would surely be proud. All of this is so you can live up to his name."

"That isn't true!" I exclaim. Unfortunately, Diavolo doesn't seem to hear me. His eyes are glassy, like he's under a trance.

"I have to surpass him," he mumbles. "Otherwise, my life has no point."

Shit.

"Exactly, which is why you're willing to help this 'family in need', even though you know it entails far too great a risk. But ask yourself: is that really the sort of conduct you'd expect from a demon king?" Diavolo slowly shakes his head.

"It's almost as though you don't even want to be king," the illusion adds. "You just want to earn your father's approval--nothing more."

"Diavolo!" I yell. Nothing.

"Lord Diavolo!" Still nothing.

"Goddammit, look at me!" That finally gets his attention.

"I'm not fit to be the demon king," he whispers.

"Are you seriously going to believe a fairy apparition?!" I don't mean to sound quite so angry, but him seemingly giving up like this is rather frustrating. If he fails this trial, I might as well kiss everything resembling my home goodbye, and I won't allow that to happen. Not on my watch.

"Look, maybe you've acted this way before," I add. "It's not like I knew you as you were growing up, so it's perfectly possible that your sole motivation was gaining your father's approval. But I can tell you this: the Diavolo I know cares deeply about others. Not just your people, but everyone you meet and befriend. You try your hardest to do what is right, even if it goes against popular opinion. You strive for a future where the three realms can live harmoniously, because you know your father's way of doing things was selfish and cruel. If anyone is fit to rule over the Devildom, it's you."

"Do you actually think I can be the sort of king everyone hopes for?" Diavolo asks. "Can I be proper and just?"

"Trust me: I'm one of the last people that will blow smoke up your ass. If I felt you weren't capable, I'd let you know in a heartbeat. Besides, you won't be doing this alone. You'll have others helping you."

"Including you?" I find myself smiling, recalling the time he once told me that he'd want me to rule beside him someday.

"Including me." Taking a deep breath, he steps forward and grabs my hand.

"Then maybe there really is hope." The scene around us disappears, and soon we find ourselves back inside the royal tomb. A note awaits us at the base of the Fairy King's statue.

𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔏𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔡𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 ℭ𝔯𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔢. 𝔑𝔬 𝔣𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢.

(Transcription: The House of Lords has determined that you have passed the Kingsblood Crucible. No further action shall be taken at this time.)

Once we're outside the tomb, Diavolo stops and looks at me.

"You know, I'm not sure if I'm ready to return just yet. I need some time away."

"Perfectly understandable," I reply. "You've just been through a rough experience."

"So have you." Wait a minute.

"You're not suggesting I join you, are you?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing." Well, damn. Didn't see that coming.

"Of course, it's fine if you don't want to. I can have Barbatos open a portal for you to return to the castle. I just..." He momentarily trails off. "I feel bad for not allowing you to properly recover, and I want to make it up to you."

"Got somewhere in mind?" He grins at me

"Of course. I think you'll like it. It's nice and quiet, and the view is absolutely breathtaking."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @interconnectedmatrix

[dream-meister-translations]

EMILIO CHARACTER CARD #2

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Upon arriving at the Chevalier guild home, Emilio hopped down from the white horse, and turned to look up at me. EMILIO : Here. Put your hands on my shoulders, Emma. EMMA : Like this? EMILIO : Yes, yes. Very good. I placed my hands on Emilio's shoulders as instructed, and he gripped my waist firmly with his own, gently lifting me off the back of the horse and into his arms. Once my feet were flat on the ground, he released me. EMMA : Thank you very much.

EMILIO : No need to thank me. It's a knight's duty to escort a lady. I hope you didn't mind the horseback ride? Some people get sore if they're not used to it. EMMA : No, I didn't get sore at all! Thanks to how careful you were, I was comfortable the whole ride. EMILIO : Happy to hear it. Well, I should return the horse to the stable so she can rest. Another splendid job, Orthos. You must be thirsty. I'll get you some water. EMMA : (He really is just like a knight from a fairy tale I read as a child…He's so kind to everyone….I didn't know such a person existed in real life.) ?? : Ohh! I feel the beautiful ripples of love!!! EMMA : Harriet…? What are you doing hanging out by the stables? HARRIET : You know the answer to that! I was led here by love!! Something is stirring between you and Emilio!! EMMA : Love!? Emilio and I aren't in love. EMILIO : Is it not possible you are mistaking my compassion for love? HARRIET : Your compassion…!? No! Not at all! I'm not giving up on this! Even if it begins as mere compassion, it could one day lead to a great romance! EMILIO : Come now, let's get inside. ALL THE KNIGHTS : Emilio! Welcome home! The moment the church doors opened, Emilio was swarmed by the knights. All wearing big toothy smiles. Eyes shimmering with excitement. EMILIO : I have returned. Thank you all for taking care of the guild house in my absence. Do you have anything to report? KNIGHT 1 : Nothing to report, but I would like to speak with you. EMMA : Emilio, you really do seem to be the heart of the group. No wonder they call you the sun knight. You are like the sun that shines down on everyone. EMILIO : Hmm. I am very happy to hear you say so. If I don't live up to my title, I'll let everyone down. As the offensive leader, it is my mission to avenge evil and bring justice to the land. I am here now only because I have worked so hard to achieve it. That dazzling smile he flashes, expresses that he is only humbly fulfilling his duty, and that he expects no praise or reward for his service.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

touch and go: ch 1

A/N: so having a bunch of wips means you ignore them and post something new, right? anyway I’ve had this idea for an origins and last life crossover superhero au fic for a while now, and in a burst of inspiration i wrote it! well, two chapters of it. the second chapter you’ll probably get in a week or maybe sooner depending on my patience (and how much of this i manage to write before i lose steam). also this fic believes in he/they scott and she/her ranboo supremacy :D (their origins characters can fit so much gender in them) anyway, enjoy!

Warnings: violence, injury, moral dilemmas

Summary: Jimmy is just trying to live a peaceful life in Orilast City. However once he discovers he has superpowers, his whole life is thrown into chaos when powerful (and therefore dangerous) people want to get him on their side and use him for his powers. Meanwhile Scott is an up-and-coming hero from the city's famed Hero Alliance. But when an encounter with an unpredictable new super turns into a media uproar, his life becomes far more complicated as they navigate what it truly means to be a hero.

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

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Jimmy always joked that his superpower was being really, really unlucky. Which definitely applied to this exact moment, as he was currently hurtling towards the ground at an alarming speed.

It had just been an ordinary day. He nearly spilled hot coffee all over himself on the daily coffee run for the office. Then he tried his best to sort through his paperwork, but he ended up dropping the folder and sent papers flying everywhere. And then when he finally made some headway on getting things organized and starting on what he was supposed to be working on, the building shook with the impact of a nearby hero and villain fight. His coworkers did the smart thing and ran- but Jimmy? Well, curiosity killed the cat for a reason.

So here he was, falling to the ground after another rumble had shaken the building, causing Jimmy to lose his balance and tumble out of a shattered window. Figures this is how he would go.

But then there was a streak of purple and blue light, and he was cradled against someone's chest. The world seemed to come to a standstill as Jimmy’s soft brown eyes met purple ones swirling with galaxies. Their hair was purple too, bits of lights like twinkling stars clinging to the strands. Stars dotted the stranger's cheeks like freckles, and a charming grin spread over their face.

And then they were plummeting to the ground again. A scream ripped from Jimmy’s throat as he clung tight to the stranger. But then they landed, the stranger landing on their feet and sending cracks spiderwebbing across the sidewalk with the impact.

"Take it easy, you’re safe now," the stranger said, before gently depositing Jimmy onto the ground. Jimmy finally got a good look at the rest of the stranger. Galaxies swirled along their skin, at least from their fingertips to their forearms. They wore a light blue overcoat with gold trim with a white shirt tucked into black pants, as well as a gold sash around their waist.

"Who are you?" Jimmy got out, not recognizing him as one of Orilast City's heroes.

"Call me Starboy," he said with another dazzling grin. With that, he leapt into the air with a burst of starlight, going back into the fray.

Jimmy watched with awe as Starboy fought alongside some more familiar faces that Jimmy knew- Crowfather, the Inch, Warp, and Blazeboy- against the feared Southlanders. The Southlanders were a dangerous ragtag group of rogues whose members shifted a bit, sometimes allying with the equally dangerous Fairy Fort, but the usual four were there: Pyroshadow, Mirage, the Detonator, and Scarletwing. Pyroshadow was a demon creature from another realm who excelled with technological devices as well as fire and shadow magic. Mirage could slip in and out of reality, showing up in one place only to vanish and appear in another. The Detonator could create explosives out of anything he touched. And their leader- Scarletwing- well, frankly he just seemed to be a guy with bright red parrot wings. But everyone feared him anyway.

Starboy was currently locked in combat with the dreaded Scarletwing. The villain was deft, gracefully swooping out of the way of Starboy’s blasts. It soon became apparent that the effort of keeping up the barrage was tiring Starboy out- and Scarletwing realized this with a wicked grin. He abruptly darted forward, arms wrapping around Starboy’s waist as he dived down, driving both of them through the crumbling wall of the very office building Starboy had just saved Jimmy from.

Scarletwing rose from the rubble. Starboy didn't. A satisfied grin broke out over Scarletwing's face, and he poised to strike a final blow-

"No!" Jimmy shouted, hand outstretched- and a burst of blue light hit Scarletwing right in the shoulder. The villain flew, hitting the rubble with a sickening thump. Jimmy stared at his hand in shock.

"Ugh, another starborne?" an irritated voice said behind him, paired with a hand on his shoulder. Jimmy whirled around to see Warp, jostling her hand from his shoulder as he did so.

"What- but I'm not a- what did you call me?" Jimmy frowned, confused. Hadn't his rescuer referred to himself as "Starboy" not "Starborne?"

Before Warp got a chance to answer, a chunk of rubble came hurtling towards them. There wasn't time to move or even scream, and Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and braced for the inevitable…

But nothing came. Jimmy slowly opened his eyes, and found himself standing a few feet away from the rubble. Warp was stood on the other side of it, her mouth dropped open in shock.

"How did you- you teleport?! But that's my thing!" Warp whined, stomping her foot a little.

Suddenly, Warp's eyes widened and her pouty demeanor vanished into concern as her gaze locked on something behind Jimmy. Someone grabbed him from behind, an iron grip on his arms.

"Neat trick you pulled- maybe we should chat about that," a voice said gruffly- Mirage. Jimmy squirmed in his grip, panic coursing through his veins. He didn't know what was going on, he just wanted to go home-

And then energy flooded into Jimmy. He heard a sharp gasp from Mirage, his grip loosening- and Jimmy’s world suddenly tilted into light and color, flowing past him in an endless stream- until everything went dark.

-

Jimmy woke up in his sister's living room. Which was strange, because he didn't remember spending the night at Lizzie’s, nor did he remember doing so on the floor as opposed to the couch.

Then Jimmy registered the dust from the building rubble in his hair, as well as Lizzie and her husband, Joel, looking down at him with concern. Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut again with a groan, hoping that this was a dream.

“Oh no you don’t- Jimmy, what happened? How are you in my living room?!” Lizzie demanded, grabbing Jimmy by the shoulders and shaking him a little. Jimmy groggily opened his eyes, giving a defeated sigh. Not a dream, then.

“You think I know?! One minute I’m in the middle of a fight between Crowfather’s team and the Southlanders, and the next I woke up here!” Jimmy replied, voice a little frantic.

“You were in a fight?!” Lizzie asked, voice shrill. Joel soothingly patted her arm, noticing Jimmy’s wince at her tone.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly in the fight. It just sorta crashed into the office. And then I fell from the building- but I was saved by some new hero, Starboy…” Jimmy trailed off, thinking about the purple-haired hero, and how he sparkled and shimmered in the light- and then he remembered how he had gotten taken down by Scarletwing, and Jimmy felt sick. He had no idea if Starboy survived or not.

“Why’d you say his name like that?” Joel asked, squinting a bit at Jimmy. He flushed a little bit, and a wicked grin spread over Joel’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that! He just saved me, that’s all. I dunno if he’s even alive, he took a pretty nasty hit from Scarletwing,” Jimmy said, sitting up and scrubbing his hands over his face. Lizzie frowned a little, and shifted away from Jimmy to grab the tv remote.

The news flickered on, with a grainy picture of Jimmy on the screen. The picture shrunk down to go in the corner, revealing a newscaster standing in the rubble of the buildings from the fight.

“We have an exciting development from the fight against the Southlanders downtown- not only did Starboy make their debut as one of our newest heroes, but a new super revealed themself today- here we have Starboy to tell us about what he saw,” a newscaster announced, and Starboy came into the frame. Text appeared at the bottom of the screen, a scrolling message that read “Starboy (he/they) Shares All: Recounting the Tale of the Newest Super!” Despite being tackled through a wall, Starboy looked as radiant as ever. Jimmy sat up a little taller.

“I didn’t see a lot, but I was the one who saved them when they fell from the building. But then they ended up saving me back- they shot Scarletwing with this bright blue light, kind of like mine,” Starboy explained, summoning a sphere of starlight in their hand to demonstrate.

“So they’re a starborne, like you?” the newscaster asked.

“That’s what we thought at first, but then they teleported just like Warp does- and when Mirage tried to corner them, they vanished the same way Mirage does. And there are some starbornes who can teleport, but we do it in a burst of starlight, not purple sparks like Warp or slipping in and out of reality like Mirage. And they did both,” he explained, slight awe in his voice.

“Oh? Do I detect some admiration for this new hero?” the newscaster asked with a smile that made Jimmy think a little of a viper.

“Well, we don’t know their allegiances yet-”

“Ooh, star-crossed lovers, perhaps?” the newscaster interrupted, enjoying their own play on words far too much.

“I don’t even know them,” Starboy scrambled with a light flush that made the stars on his cheeks shine even brighter.

“Well I don’t know about you, but this picture submitted by an ameteur photographer sure shows some chemistry to me!” the newscaster chirped, and a picture of Starboy holding Jimmy in his arms came on screen. Jimmy had been staring open-mouthed at Starboy, clinging to their shoulders. Meanwhile Starboy had been looking at Jimmy with a dazzling grin, holding tight to him as they floated in the air. New text appeared at the bottom of the screen: “Romance Among New Heroes, or Star-Crossed Lovers?”

“Now I get why you said their name like that,” Joel murmured in a teasing tone. Jimmy’s face burned, and he buried his face in his hands. Lizzie turned off the tv, letting out a deep breath.

“So. When were you planning on telling me you had powers?” Lizzie demanded.

“Not like we’ve been super honest with him,” Joel muttered. Lizzie reached over to smack the back of his head.

“I didn’t know I had powers until today and- he wait what do you mean, not being honest with me?” Jimmy asked with a frown. Lizzie sighed, glaring at Joel a little, before waving her hand. Pink and yellow sparkles fluttered over her, and in a matter of moments iridescent wings sprouted from her back, and a flowery mask shimmered into place over her eyes. Jimmy jolted back, turning to look at Joel- whose appearance changed with a flurry of red sparks to reveal blood red eyes and a dark cloak.

Panic clutched at Jimmy’s throat. Because his sister and brother-in-law were two of the city’s most feared villains: the Fairy Queen and the Red Wizard. Together they led the Fairy Fort, a team of ruthless villains that tormented the city. They were at the center of many conspiracies and assassinations, and were known for frequent infighting amongst themselves as well as against other villain groups they allied with.

“Please don’t freak out,” Lizzie said, hands up placatingly.

“Bit late for that!” Jimmy squeaked, scrambling backwards. The Fairy Queen was ruthless, the Red Wizard was unhinged, and they were his family?! No way. Today had to be some sort of fever dream- first he got caught in a battle and found out he had powers, and now this?!

“I know we don’t exactly have the best reputation-”

“You think?!” Jimmy cried, cutting Joel off.

“But you don’t know those so-called ‘heroes’ like we do, they’re bad news- especially the Crowfather’s team,” Lizzie explained.

“And now they’re probably gonna be looking for you, with your whole… whatever is happening,” Joel added.

“Starboy seemed alright…” Jimmy said softly. Lizzie’s lips pressed together in a firm line.

“Maybe, but that’s how they start. All bright-eyed and hopeful, talking about how all they want is to help people- but then the power goes to their heads, and they just want to help themselves,” Lizzie said darkly. Jimmy frowned.

“But isn’t that what you and the Fairy Fort do?! You just do whatever you want, causing chaos and…” Jimmy trailed off as he remembered that this wasn’t just his sister he was snapping back at- this was a feared villain who wrought havoc over the city.

“It’s not as simple as hero and villain, Jimmy. The lines have always been blurred- it's just that the heroes don’t want you to know that,” Joel said bitterly.

“But you’ve killed people!” Jimmy sputtered. Joel just shrugged.

“It was me or them. Or they were gonna hurt Lizzie. But it’s not like they were great people either,” Joel said, resting what was probably supposed to be a comforting hand on Jimmy’s arm. But Jimmy jerked away- and red magic followed. It flowed into Jimmy, and he was overcome with simmering rage.

“What’s happening, what did you do to me?!” Jimmy demanded, quickly becoming overwhelmed by the surge of power.

“What do you mean, what did I do?! You’re the one taking my magic!” Joel gasped out, sounding a little like he had been punched.

“You can take people’s powers. That’s why you could shoot starbolts like Starboy, but then teleport like Warp, and then teleport like Mirage,” Lizzie murmured with intrigue in her tone.

“But I don’t want this- I don’t even know how I’m doing this!” Jimmy cried, red magic starting to surge around him.

“Whoa- hold on, let’s calm down first- my magic is tied to emotions, you’re gonna blow us all up at this rate,” Joel said, reaching out to take Jimmy’s hands to try and ground him.

This, however, turned out to be a mistake. Because more magic flooded into Jimmy, and Joel cried out in pain. Jimmy tore his hands out of Joel’s grip, scrambling away. Joel slumped over, and Lizzie was quick to rush to his side. She looked up at Jimmy, shock and horror in her eyes.

Jimmy ran before she could say anything, darting out the door and bursting into the sky with the Red Wizard’s- with Joel’s magic, ignoring Lizzie’s shouts after him.

-

mcyt general fic taglist: @actuallymothman @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @meowdy-pickles @space-ace123 @vyeoh

[fictionadventurer]

"lionheart sophia draft" (and/or "lionheart draft")?

This is my retelling of "The Twelve Huntsmen"! Which has fairly consistently remained on my radar for most of the year, which is pretty good for me. I was trying to keep it as close to the original fairy tale as possible, while also making the very, very weird character choices actually make sense.

The retelling is built around the idea that the princess (Sophia) has a Padme-style group of identical guards who travel with her when she's trying to get over her jilting. The original "lionheart draft" was from the POV of one of these handmaids, but I got only a couple of scenes in when I realized that I needed to be in the princess' POV--if the retelling is about making sense of her decisions, I'd better be inside her head. That draft involved Sophia telling the story after the fact (and correcting any wrong impressions you may have gotten from certain people or lions who told you this story), which was fun because she got to be so opinionated, but I started the story way too early, which led to a lot of summary and pointless wheel-spinning before the real conflict started, so I plan to retool it to start during the interesting scene and get deeper into the POV to be more present in the moment.

I'll give an excerpt from both versions:

From the handmaiden's POV. I really wanted to establish the everyday reality of this weird practice of doubles, but unfortunately, it's too much of a tangent from the fairy tale, especially since I'm aiming for a short story.

He takes my hand. I have dreamed of having a man look at me the way he is now, which makes it all the more heartbreaking that it’s not me he’s speaking to. “Sophia, I did not come to Delmere in search of a bride, but in you, I have found the woman my heart has always desired. If it pleases you, would you do me the honor…?”

My heart races. He can’t be doing this! Not now. To me! I am empowered to act in the princess’ name when necessary, but I can’t answer for her in this.

He is everything I would have dreamed of in a husband for Sophia. He is handsome, tall and strong, with a dark complexion and hair as thick as a lion’s man. He is kind, noble, dutiful, with a steadiness of nature that will balance Sophia’s impulsive energy. But I am not the one who can make that decision, and I can’t reveal my true identity to an outsider. Why couldn’t one of the other ten Mirror Guards have taken decoy duty today? I would give anything to be safely back in our shared quarters.

I am saved by the sound of footsteps from the corridor ahead. A man rounds the corner who has the face of the king, the graying hair of the king, and the robes of the king. Constantine will never guess that Gregor isn’t the king.

I step back, flustered, and curtsy. “Good evening, Father.”

Gregor is as identical to King Stavros as I am to Princess Sophia. We so often work as a team that he understands what I need without question. He puts the king’s solemn look in place of his own laughing expression.

“Sophia,” he says. “Prince Constantine. What is the meaning of this?”

Constantine jumps back and bows. “Your majesty. I thought that, after our conversation, I had your blessing to approach Sophia in private.”

Gregor raises an eyebrow. “You call this hallway private?”

Constantine blushes—the darling man! “No, your majesty.”

Gregor steps between me and Constantine. “If you must, you can meet with Sophia in the throne room in an hour. Much better place for settling such issues. But I’d rather hoped you’d have the decency to let me have a word with my own daughter first.”

Constantine gathers his composure and bows. “Of course, your majesty. Forgive me.”

As Gregor leads me away, I bid Constantine farewell with the dazzling smile that Sophia reserves for him. At least, I hope it’s her smile, and not my own terrified anxiety.

Gregor leads me toward the royal chambers while Constantine retreats in the other direction. When we are out of sight and earshot, Gregor relaxes into his own natural smile. “Well, Theodora,” he says. “You had best give the princess her life back before you wind up as queen of Xanthia.”

And now from Sophia’s POV. This is the scene I’ll probably start with in the reworked draft, because it’s where the fun really begins. This scene is much rougher than I remember, but it was the first time in a long time where I was able to have fun while writing instead of agonizing over every word.

As I stared at the man who’d won my heart and then trampled it to dust for the sake of a better treaty, I had a moment of dazzling inspiration. I’m really rather proud of it. Let it never be said that I will pass up the opportunity for the perfect subtle insult.

Looking Leander straight in the eye, I said, “My name is Constantine.” With a little twist of emphasis to say that at least I had been worthy of such a name.

That was supposed to wound him like an arrow to the chest. The faithless wretch didn’t even blink.

Leander nodded politely. “You are leader of these men? They all look to you.”

I had always played the male parts in our amateur theatricals, but this was a far greater test of my skill. I’d rarely been called upon to demonstrate for strangers on our trip. “We are brothers,” I said. “A few of us cousins.”

“How come you to be in my forest?” he asked.

“We are traveling from Delmere.”

“Traveling where?”

“Where there is work.”

“Vagabonds, then.”

I scowled. “Huntsmen.”

“Thieves who steal my birds.”

“The bird was shot outside your forest, majesty.”

Leander raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe it? Three of my men saw you shoot it.”

It was Eugenia’s arrow, but this was no time to quibble. “It was above the treetops, majesty, and thus not within your forest.”

His eyes crinkled a bit at that, the corner of his mouth turning up. When you look at Leander, you’d think he doesn’t even know what a smile is, but on the rare occasions one does appear, you wonder how his face ever looked whole without it. I’ll admit it thrilled me to see even this undersized specimen; I’d always been able to make him laugh.

“A fool’s argument,” Leander said. “When the bird fell, it was in my woods true enough.”

“I hadn’t touched so much as a feather before your men rounded us up. For ought you know, we were preparing to deliver it to your own supper table.”

He did laugh at that, one short bark. “Now you’re a thief and a liar.”

“And you an unjust judge. You can’t say I stole anything that never left your land.”

“The shooting is crime enough. I could take a finger for it.”

Was he ruthless as well as faithless? The Leander I knew would never have been so cruel over a trifle. Of course, the Leander I knew hadn’t been king. Who knew how his father’s death and the transition of power had affected him?

“Will you?” I said, forgetting to deepen my voice. I think it helped my case--made me seem the thoughtless youth rather than a mature poacher.

His eyes flashed. “I must see justice done. If I leave you unpunished, these woods will be overrun with poachers.” He looked over the twelve of us and then glanced at the captain of the soldiers. “It seems as if we are already.”

I took one last, longing look at my ten perfect fingers. I’d have to buy new gloves.

Leander sat straighter in the saddle. “As recompense, I will see to it that every bird you shoot will be brought to my table.”

I was puzzled. “Majesty?”

A soldier brought forward the bird we’d shot. Eugenia had put the arrow right through its eye.

Leander said, “I stand in need of huntsmen, and I could ask for no better demonstration of your skill. If you will put your bows in service of my table, you will be allowed freedom of these woods and your share of their bounty.”

All twelve of us stood speechless.

Alexandra stepped forward first. “Your majesty, we can’t...”

I silenced her with a look. I have very silencing looks. “What is the extent of our service?”

“I don’t plan to enslave you. You claim to be looking for work, and I offer it to you. A fortnight’s trial. If the work doesn’t please you, you will be free to seek employment elsewhere.”

“With all our fingers?”

The hint of a smile again. “If everything you shoot comes to my kitchens, then yes.”

Serving as huntsmen sounded better than trying to bribe or talk our way out of this. And two weeks seemed reasonable.

A bit too reasonable. You don’t live as a princess without gaining a healthy dose of suspicion. “Why, majesty?”  

“What could be more sensible? I need huntsmen and you amuse me. I’ve had little enough amusement of late.”

I still hated him, but I felt a little bit sorry over that. He deserved to suffer after what he’d done, but it was pathetic to imagine that our half-hearted banter was the best amusement available to him. I could give him a little taste of it over the next few weeks. Just to remind him of what he’d lost by throwing me aside.

[superfreakerz]

TDDUP 32

“Til Death Do Us Part”

Rated M for smut and heavy themes.

Reincarnation/Immortal AU

Summary: There are immortals and there are those who reincarnate, but it’s best to keep these things hidden. Lucy is attending college and meets Natsu, a boy with pink hair, a devilish smile, and a body that never ages.

Chapter 32

The New Semester

Lucy frowned as she got ready for the new semester. The rest of winter break went by in the blink of an eye. She had partied at Fairy Tail during New Years and even called her father to catch up and wish him a happy new year. Every day during the break was spent with Natsu and their friends, which made the new term that much harder.

Last quarter, she had every class with at least someone from their group. Now, she has absolutely none. Disappointed was an understatement when she received her schedule. She was devastated. She hated the thought of not seeing her friends in class, and she hated the thought of starting over even more.

"C'mon, Luce. Cheer up. It's not the end of the world if we don't have classes together," Natsu's voice rang out. He spent nearly every night at her apartment, it was rare when he was at his own place.

"Easy for you to say!" she shot back. "You at least have a friend in every class!"

"Friend? I only have Gray in all my classes. That's not a blessing, that's a curse! That's worse than immortality!"

Lucy only rolled her eyes. "Oh, whatever. Point is, I'm going to be all alone! I'll have to make new friends! And in case you don't remember, I suck at that!"

"What do you mean? You made friends with all of us!"

"That's only because Levy introduced us. And she was the one to come up to me when we first met. I can't make friends on my own! And let's not forget that our first meeting went horribly!"

Natsu smoothed a hand over the back of her head. "Quit worrying so much. You'll be fine, I promise. And even if you don't make friends, I already told you that I'll pick you up from class everyday so we can go to Fairy Tail together and meet up with the rest of the gang. It's not like we're going to stop being friends just because we're in different classes. You're stuck with us now that you know our secret."

Lucy laughed. "Oh, I don't need you to pick me up today. I'm going to meet with Aquarius after my classes. But I guess you're right."

"I always am! Now hurry up and finish getting ready."

Wanting to look nice on her first day of class, Lucy threw on a pair of light jeans and a white sweater. It was still winter, so she couldn't show off her body just yet.

"Alright, I'm heading out now!" she called out.

Natsu gave her a quick kiss, sending her off with a grin. "Have fun!"

Lucy was surprised she was relatively early to her first class, taking a seat in the back. This quarter, all three of her classes were squeezed into the same days, but luckily she only had classes Tuesday and Thursday. That left her with the rest of the week to do whatever she wanted. Her first class was English with a professor named Virgo. According to Makarov, she was also a reincarnation. Lucy hoped she would be able to talk to her about it.

Suddenly, the seat next to her was pulled out. Lucy turned to find a boy with dirty blonde hair sitting next to her, flashing her a dazzling smile. His eyes were dark, his lashes long. If Lucy were single, she was sure she would be swooning over the pretty boy.

"Nice to meet you," the boy said, taking her hand in his. "I'm Hibiki. What might your name be, beautiful?"

Lucy was taken aback by his brazenness, reminded of her first boyfriend. "I'm Lucy."

"Lucy. What a pretty name!"

"Uhh, thanks."

"So, Lucy, what year are you?"

"I'm a freshman."

Hibiki gasped. "Me too! It must be fate that we met today!"

Lucy nearly rolled her eyes. "Fate? This is English 101, everyone here is a freshman."

Before Hibiki could reply, someone cleared their throat at the front of the room, grabbing her attention. It was a woman, relatively short with a pink pixie cut. Her eyes were a jaded blue.

"I'm Virgo, your professor for this quarter."

Lucy leaned forward in her seat, eager to learn more about the fellow reincarnation.

Once class ended, Lucy quickly packed her things before heading to her next class. She wished she could have talked to Virgo about reincarnation, but there were too many people around, not to mention she had limited time to make it to her next class. Not that there was a need to rush. She had all quarter to talk to the fellow reincarnation.

During her walk across campus, Lucy was surprised to find that Hibiki was walking along with her.

"Umm, is there a reason you're going this way?" she asked, starting to get weirded out by the boy.

He arched his brow. "My class is this way."

"Oh, okay."

When Lucy made it to her next class, she stopped outside the door to glare at Hibiki, who had followed her all the way there.

"Okay, you're stalking me," she said, crossing her arms.

Hibiki laughed awkwardly. "I'm not, I swear! I have this class!"

"There's no way we're in the same class! Show me your schedule!" The boy handed her his schedule, which she glossed over quickly. "Wait, we share every class together! How the hell did that happen?"

"I told you it was fate!" Hibiki exclaimed, grabbing Lucy's hand. He went to place a kiss over it, but she snatched it away.

"I can't believe how similar you are to an old friend of mine," she said, rolling her eyes.

"This friend of yours must have been charming!"

She laughed, and in a voice laced with sarcasm she replied, "Big time. Well, if we're going to be in all the same classes together, we might as well be friends. But no funny business, alright? I have a boyfriend."

Hibiki held his chest in mock pain. "I should have known a girl as beautiful as yourself was taken."

The two walked to the back of the classroom, taking their seats.

"So, what are you majoring in?" Lucy asked. She wasn't used to making friends on her own, but with Hibiki's laidback and all too familiar personality, she found it easy to slide into a conversation.

"Computer science. What about you?"

"Creative writing."

Lucy was about to ask the boy where he was from when their professor stepped into the room. He was a tall and lanky man with black hair. Unlike Virgo, he was a bit older, a couple of wrinkles adorning his face around his mouth. He wore a dark green turtleneck and black slacks that accentuated his slender legs.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Sagittarius. I will be your World History professor. I assume everyone came prepared with their textbooks."

Lucy sweat dropped. It was only the first day of the quarter, she didn't have her textbook yet. As if sensing her dilemma, she felt Hibiki nudge her elbow that was resting on the desk before he slid his textbook between the two of them to share. She shot him a quick grin.

"Thanks," she whispered.

He returned the smile. "Don't mention it."

Class seemed to drag on forever, Sagittarius' emotionless voice doing nothing to help as he discussed the contents of the first chapter. While Lucy may not have been an immortal who lived through most of the world's events, she had still been around long enough to have been through a good chunk of them. That, along with taking the same classes every lifetime, made learning relatively easy.

Once class ended, Lucy and Hibiki walked to a small coffee shop that was on campus. They had thirty minutes before their next class, and considering it was the first day, they didn't have too much homework to do yet. Instead, they decided to chat over a cup of coffee, which Lucy insisted on paying for since Hibiki was nice enough to share his textbook and send pictures of the portions she would need for homework later.

Lucy found it strange just how similar Hibiki was to her first boyfriend. She figured that was why it was easy to open up to him. Already familiar with flirty playboys, his personality didn't scare her away. Instead, it made things easier.

"I guess making friends isn't so hard."

The two talked about everything, ranging from where they grew up to what they wanted to do after college. Lucy had to admit, it was fun making new friends.

When they headed to their last class for the day, they took seats in the back yet again. It didn't take long for their professor to stumble in the room. Lucy's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets seeing how absolutely ripped the man was. It looked like his white button-up shirt was going to pop any second with how large his muscles were.

"Yo! I'm Taurus!" the man exclaimed. His eyes filtered around the room, hearts practically shining in them whenever they glazed over a girl. Lucy wondered how he was able to teach given his pervy attitude.

Yet, when he started to go over the math topics they were going to learn over the quarter, all playfulness disappeared from his voice, replaced with seriousness. Unlike with Sagittarius, Taurus was surprisingly good at keeping the class engaged, and despite how hard to believe it was, he managed to make math seem somewhat interesting. Time practically flew by. To make matters even better, Taurus dismissed them without assigning any homework.

Heading out of the classroom, Hibiki invited Lucy to hang out.

"Thanks, but I have an old professor I want to catch up with," Lucy said with a smile. She was proud of herself for having made a friend already, one that even wanted to hang out with her after school.

Hibiki's eyes widened. "Oh, is it your boyfriend? Are you dating your old professor?"

"What? No! My boyfriend goes to this school too, but he's not a professor. Just a student."

"Oh. I'd love to meet the man that stole your heart! He must be quite the specimen!"

Lucy laughed, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure you'll meet him someday considering he plans on picking me up from school everyday. Anyways, I have to go. I'll see you Thursday!"

Waving a quick goodbye to her new friend, Lucy headed towards Aquarius' office. It was clear that Aquarius knew about her reincarnation, so why didn't she ever say anything instead of giving cryptic clues? And how did she even know about it in the first place? Had she slipped up in any way? If that was the case, she needed to know to make sure not to repeat the mistake in the future.

Reaching the cranky professor's office, Lucy peered inside to find the woman glaring at her computer screen. She wasn't surprised that there weren't any students utilizing Aquarius' office hours. After all, she was terrifying.

Feeling irked that Aquarius had kept things hidden from her, Lucy strode inside the office without bothering to knock and planted her hands on her hips with a glare. The older woman glanced up at her, a scowl immediately gracing her face.

"What do you want, brat? I thought I was finally free of you," she remarked.

Lucy closed the door behind her, locking it. "How did you know about me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. Makarov already told me about you, along with the others. Why didn't you tell me?"

Aquarius sighed, the scowl on her face finally relenting. When she looked back up at Lucy, her features were softer, a rare expression on the woman's face.

"We wanted you to find out on your own," she finally answered. "I assume Makarov told you about Acnologia and the other immortals?"

Lucy nodded. "Yeah. He told me about how we're all being hunted by some psychopath."

"And how did you take it?"

"...Not well, I guess."

"That's why I decided it was best not to tell you."

"But why?" Lucy asked. "Obviously I would have liked to know that there are others like me! What does Acnologia have to do with anything!?"

Because I didn't want you to be paranoid," Aquarius answered. "Do you know how many reincarnations live in fear for the rest of their lives, over and over again all because they found out about Acnologia? We already have enough to worry about, it's better not to have the knowledge of yet another threat to us. Besides, I was also doing it for you and Pinkie."

"You mean Natsu? What does he have to do with it?"

"Well you're dating, aren't you? I didn't want you to get scared of him since he's an immortal and all."

Lucy choked on her saliva. "W-What? How did you know about that?"

Aquarius sighed, tired of having to explain things. "I know about all of the immortals enrolled at this school, even the ones that are in Fairy Tail's basement. Considering the past between reincarnations and immortals, we are given information about each immortal so that we can choose if we want to work here or not."

"So you really knew this whole time? How did you know about me?"

"I actually met you in your first life."

Lucy felt the wind getting knocked out of her with that revelation. Feeling dizzy, she took a seat across from Aquarius, resting her head in her hands.

"I don't remember you," she finally said, meeting the older woman's gaze.

"That's because you were just a baby at the time," Aquarius replied.

"How did you know about me then? You couldn't have possibly recognized me when I was just a baby."

"I was friends with your mom. You're strangely enough the spitting image of her- though you lack all of her grace. When I first saw you, I thought that you were her and that she was a reincarnation as well. Until I found out your name, then I remembered that she named her daughter Lucy. It wasn't too hard to put the pieces together after that, though I did do a bit of research on you as well just to be sure."

Lucy gave a sad smile remembering her first mother. "I can't believe you knew her."

"It was a shock to me too when I first saw you," Aquarius replied, her own lips tugging upwards into a smile. "She was a fine woman, which is why it's so surprising you turned out like that. It must be the fault of the rest of your parents." Lucy shot her a glare before Aquarius continued, "Anyways, it was my idea to keep you from the truth, so don't even think about getting mad at Scorpio and the others."

"Don't worry, I'm not mad anymore. Just a little surprised is all. I still can't believe there are so many others like me, and that there are so many near me too."

"Who are your teachers this quarter?"

"Virgo, Sagittarius, and Taurus."

"Ah. Did you know they're all reincarnations too?"

Lucy grinned cheek to cheek. "Wow! I heard Virgo was, but I didn't know Sagittarius and Taurus were too!"

Aquarius nodded. "If you want, you would probably be allowed to teach here if you wanted. All you have to do is turn in an application to Makarov. You'd be allowed to come here every lifetime if you choose to do so."

Lucy considered the option. Truthfully, she had no idea what the future had in store for her. Still, it was nice to have another option available to her. Especially since this one allowed her to stay near Natsu and the others.

After chatting with Aquarius for another hour, Lucy finally decided to head over to Fairy Tail where her friends were waiting for her. Sure enough, when she strode inside the pub, she found Levy and Natsu hunched over, dejected from the conversation that was taking place around them.

"Why do you two look so upset?" Lucy asked once she approached them.

The two lit up like Christmas trees at the sight of her.

"Finally!" Natsu exclaimed, grabbing her wrist and gesturing for her to sit down. "We've been waiting forever! It sucks not having classes together!"

"Weren't you the one telling me it wasn't a big deal?"

"Well I changed my mind! It sucks!"

Levy nodded with the boy. "I agree! I've been wanting to talk to you all day about your story! I finally finished it!"

"Already!?"

"Yeah! We've gotta talk about it!"

"Shouldn't you guys give her room to breathe?" Gray asked with a chuckle. Natsu and Levy were practically leeching onto the poor blonde. "Anyways, how was talking to Aquarius?"

Lucy smiled. "It was nice. She explained how she knew me and why she didn't tell me about it in the first place. Oh, she also told me that if I wanted to, I could probably teach at the university after graduation."

"Are you going to?" Erza asked.

"I don't know yet. There's a lot to think about. But since I'm still a freshman, I have plenty of time to mull it over."

Natsu stared at the blonde beside him. In truth, her teaching at the university sounded like a dream come true considering it meant she would stay in Magnolia. Then they could stay together forever, even in her next lives. Not wanting to come off too strong or pressure her in any way, the boy decided to keep his thoughts to himself for now.

He didn't know what the future entailed for the two of them. He knew that he wanted to be with Lucy for the rest of his infinite life, but that was a lot to ask of someone. He knew firsthand how long life could be, he didn't know if Lucy would feel tied down. After all, she lived in different countries, had different families, her life was forever changing while his stayed the same. Not to mention most of the time he was kept in the basement. What if she wanted to go on a date? What if she got tired of hanging out in his room? There was nothing he could do about it, and he wasn't sure the girl would want to put up with it. After all, who would?

Swallowing thickly, Natsu pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. It was like Lucy said, they had plenty of time to figure it out. But no matter how many times he repeated that thought in his head, the worries he had were only swept under a thin veil that threatened to fly away with the slightest gust of wind. And he was sure they were going to come back sooner or later.

[baekxytocin]

Stronger As One - Chapter Three

YouTube version HERE

Fantasy, Imagination, Superpowers

Character:

EXO Members

‘But with my small power, I still cannot heal him much’

Note: All unfamiliar, unknown names or anything strange found here are generated for fanfic usage only.

2692 words

“I admit, this place is hotter than I thought” D.O. walks slowly into the fire cave.

The nine warriors arrive at the next destination, Fire Mountain. They hike all the way to the top, and found a cave. They decide to visit the cave for the next clue about the Princess whereabouts. “D.O., are you okay? You look pale” Lay looks at him, worry. “I’m okay, just…. too hot. It’s okay, let’s keep going, I will catch you from behind.” D.O. walks slower than his brothers. “Hmm…. This is Fire Mountain, and since we’re in the Fire Cave, I guess his power gets weaker here, just like what happened to Chanyeol earlier with the water elementals, since you said your strength power related to Earth power or something,” Xiumin interprets, while holding D.O. to cool him down.

They are being welcomed by some tiny fire elementals as they walk deeper in the cave. The elementals surround Chanyeol whom possess similar power elementals with them. “Friend! Friend!” They went up to his body, dancing. Chanyeol sits for a while to enjoy their little performance. “What are those?” Chen asks. “I believe there are called as fire slugs. Those few over there are fire fairies” Chanyeol answers.

Sehun and Baekhyun are also getting hotter. Sehun uses his wind power to cool them down. However, both of them are shocked when one of the fire slugs are getting bigger. Chanyeol just laughs. “Sehun, your power will only make them grow bigger and stronger. Same with you too, Chen,” and he continues laughing as Chen and Sehun pouts.

“Bandits! Bandits!” The fire fairies scream all of a sudden. “Wait! Guys! It’s the Darkmore forces!” Suho notice them. The warriors trying to catch the whole group, but four of them stay behind to fight while helping the other dark forces flee from the scene. “HAH! Can’t believe you follow us all the way here!” said one of the dark forces. “Give up now boys, your princess are not here. She has been taken away from this planet! Just go back and tell your king that his legacy has doomed!” the four dark forces laugh uncannily.

Chen stealthily strikes one of the dark forces with his lightning power. One down, three more. “You underestimate us, EXO warriors. You think you are that strong??” as they speak, they cast a dark spell, summoning few unfamiliar monsters they never see before. “Let’s see how you defeat us….” The monsters chew the fire slugs and fire fairies, making them hotter, darker and dangerous. The surviving fire slugs and fire fairies managed to run away. Some of them hiding at Chanyeol’s back.

Before Chanyeol able to use his power, one of the monsters sputter a smelly, hazardous toxic spits. “Watch out!” D.O. immediately pushes Chanyeol away, but the toxic spits right on him. Almost half of his body now immobile, his face turns paler than before. “D.O.! No!!!! Why did you do that??” Chanyeol panics. Chen’s anger raises, striking down another Darkmore forces with his lightning power. “Hyung! Faster! Here!” Kai teleports, holding one of the dark forces. Xiumin sees the opportunity, freezing the ones in Kai’s hold. “Move!” Chen orders Kai to move away, successfully bringing another dark force down.

The last dark force attacks them with a dark spell, thankfully they avoid the attacks smoothly. Baekhyun glimpse a good time, he blinds the dark force member with his light power. The dark force dazzled with the light, and Chanyeol burn the last dark force down without stalling. However, the monsters keeps spitting toxics from their mouth, making the warriors confused. “How to destroy those monsters?” Suho at the back talking, while taking care of D.O., when that time an idea come across in his mind. “Chanyeol! Use huge flames to burn the monsters down!” But Chanyeol look at his hand. “I can’t. My powers are not that strong….”. Sehun comes closer. “I am wind. You said just now, wind will help fire gets bigger right? I will help you blow big fire towards the monsters. Let’s keep trying, shall we?”

Chanyeol smiles, nods. Both of them dash through the monsters, attacking them with fire, assisted by Sehun’s wind power. One of the monsters melt away, yet few more to go. Suddenly, the fire slugs pull the tip of Chanyeol’s pants. “Join! Join!” He hears the fire fairies while watching the fire slugs combining themselves; now bigger, taller than Chanyeol, and angrier for the dark forces has disturbed their homes. “Wind! Wind!” The fire fairies utters again, this time Chanyeol and Sehun both understand. The angry fire slugs lunge at the monsters, while Chanyeol letting out a fire while Sehun enhances the fire. Finally, all monsters abolish.

“Yay! We win!” Chanyeol and Sehun high five. The warriors come back to check on D.O.. “Lay, can you try heal him?” Suho pleads. “I’m trying. But I don’t know how to get rid of this black thing from his body. I manage to get his fever down, but we need someone powerful to heal him….” Lay sighs. “Gahhhhh! Who dare come to this place??” An instant, deep, hoarse voice echoing the cave. “Dragon! Dragon!” the fire fairies yelling, disappear immediately. “WHO ARE YOU????” An ancient dragon blasting a fire towards them. Thankfully, Suho quickly make a water barrier; saving them from being ashes in a split second.

“Nice….” The dragon speaks in amusement. “Who are you, humans? You don’t smell like here. Are you coming from another planet?” The dragon investigates them. “I am Chanyeol. I share similar powers like yours…. And yes, we’re coming from EXO Planet. We’re on a quest to find our Princess who was kidnapped by Darkmore forces, and we just defeated some of them. Sorry for the ruckus,” Chanyeol politely explains the situation.

“Aha…. The Darkmore, yes. It’s been many times since they came to conquer this planet. But I know they have failed, because…. This planet are filled with elementals, and not just any elements, but full of tests to even annihilate one area of this planet. I’m amazed when you all reached up this place, alive. But, why are you not fighting alone? You have power of fire too; you can simply burn them down,” the dragon did not impress of Chanyeol's fire skills. “I am a human too…. Not a full fire elemental. Maybe that’s why I need more help in bringing the dark forces along with the monsters down.” Chanyeol stares at the fire cave floor.

The dragon laughs. “Understandable, human, no worries. Come closer, and close your eyes.” Chanyeol follows the order. The dragon’s breath gusting into Chanyeol. “What happened?” Chanyeol coughs. “Blue Inflammation. Fire Slug summoning. Phoenix. From the words, you know what fire slug summoning does. Blue Inflammation, similar to flames, but it’s way hotter, or should I say the hottest flame of all; able to burn down almost everything, including against dark elementals. Use these skills carefully. I don’t just give the powers recklessly. I saw…. positivity and kindness in you, and the fire slugs here likes you too, that’s what made me gift you this power. Oh, and don’t always call the Phoenix, it may cause your energy deprive too”.

“Yeeeeeee” the fire slugs overjoyed. Chanyeol test his new power by snapping his fingers, and more fire slugs appeared. He snap his fingers again and the fire slugs gone. “Ughhh….” D.O. is getting ill. “Can you help heal him?” Chanyeol inquires the dragon with concern. “Sorry, young one. I can’t heal him, but I know who can heal everything. Go the South East from here and look for Porsephine. She’s the curer of all things. There is no illness or disease she can’t heal, as long as there is still a breath left. Hurry now, before it’s too late.”

“But it’s getting darker now hyung…. We should take a break too. We didn’t know where to set up our camp for tonight, D.O. hyung needs rest too” Sehun voice out his burden too. “Catable Village. It’s a cat village, and amazingly, they can talk like us. Not far from here. You can stay for a night over there before going South East”. The warrior brothers thanked the dragon once again. Suho piggyback-ride the sick D.O., and they hurriedly goes to the next destination. On the other hand, the brothers take turn taking care of D.O. as well.

The next morning....

“D.O.! D.O.!” Lay screams, waking the brothers up the next morning. “His health is deteriorating. I have tried my best to keep him warm and heal his high fever, but he keeps shivering. We cannot stay here longer; we must go now. We didn’t know how far is this South East, and we don’t even know who is this Porsephine” Lay’s word brings terror in them. Baekhyun and Sehun asking the cats around about Porsephine. Thankfully, the elder cat in the village gave them valuable information about the great healer.

They appreciate for the hospitality given by the cats at the Catable Village, and hurriedly travel to a Nimplecorn Forest to discover Porsephine. They finally arrived at Nimplecorn Forest, where they seen lots of magical, and mystical things there. “Wow…. What…. is that….” Kai delighted to see things that he never seen before, and so with the other warriors. However, D.O.’s coughing making them realise that one of their brothers is in peril.

Suddenly, a voice greets them. “Welcome to Nimplecorn Forest. How may I help you?” The warrior brothers are amused to see a Pegasus is in front of them. “Please, help save our brother. May we call upon Porsephine please?” Lay’s voice shaking while carrying D.O. on his back. The Pegasus looks at D.O. and say “Follow me”.

The warrior brothers follow the Pegasus deep in the forest. They come across a beautiful, elegant unicorn. The Pegasus talks to the unicorn, and the unicorn nods. “Hurry, put him on the ground” the unicorn instructs. Lay place D.O. gently, and the unicorn begin the healing wave. The brothers instantly see the effect of the healing; the sticky, black, toxic thing on D.O. disappear, and he slowly open his eyes. Lay and Suho who carried D.O. on their back, as well as the other brothers regained their health and energy. “D.O.!!!!” The brothers are happy to see him get back on his feet.

Lay bows down. “Seeing you doing the healing, you must be Porsephine. I am Lay, thank you for saving our brother. I don’t know how to repay your kindness, but thank you very much”. The unicorn smiles. “One of the reason your brother is still breathing is, he seem to have some unusual power within him, and…. a small healing work has been done on him. The power casted from the Darkmore are quite strong though. I bet you also possess healing powers?”

“Yes, I do. But with my small power, I still cannot heal him much. Thankfully we arrived just in time. I don’t know how to live if another brother succumb to Darkmore powers” Lay frowns. “You can upgrade your powers, actually. Take a day rest here, and see me tomorrow at this same place,” Porsephine invites them to stay.

They are charmed by the mystical creatures they found there. They have chance to converse with a group of hippogriff, and griffin. Meanwhile, Chen, Baekhyun and D.O. take another course deep in the forest, when they found a massive, enormous willow tree. They are enchanted to see the willow tree that surrounded by blue and white light from the fireflies. “Hello D.O., glad to see you can walk already”, a sudden brittle, yet croaky voice welcomes them. They are confused, trying to find the sources of the sound.

“I’m here, where are you looking at….” They shocked to see the tree spoke to them. “Welcome to my forest, dear children, you can just call me Grandma Willow…. A child of strength, a child of thunder, and a child of light; that’s just superb to feel your powers, mingle here” Grandma Willow said. “Wow, grandma, how do you know about our powers?” Baekhyun inquires. “Hahaha…. I have lived long enough, dear child. My roots has spread all over the place, and I can simply feel whatever power you have. I have sensed your distress the moment you stepped into this place” the willow tree laughs while answering them.

“Isn’t that usually fireflies release white lights? I’m surprised they effuse blue lights too, and… some of it are green though?” Baekhyun taking interest in talking to the willow tree while watching the fireflies. “Wow. I’m impressed. You see green lights? They supposed to be invisible though. Hmm…. Come closer to me, child” Grandma Willow request Baekhyun. When he gets closer, the fireflies surround him too. “Wait, where’s Baekhyun?” D.O. and Chen watch the scene, gets worried for they are unable to see Baekhyun.

“Guys, I’m still here though. Can’t you see me? It’s so bright with the fireflies around.” D.O. and Chen flabbergast to see Baekhyun standing at the same place. “Child, you just acquire a projective invisible power. With your light power, you can turn yourself and anything surrounds you to be unseen. I gift you with this sacred, pure powers. Don’t use it incautiously” Grandma Willow notify him. He nods and thank Grandma Willow.

On the other hand, while D.O. busily watching the incredible moment, the willow tree suddenly captures D.O. with one of her roots. “Grandma! Stop! He’s our brothers, and he was just recovered” Chen stoned. He wanted to use his lightning power, but at the same he don’t want to hurt the willow tree. Baekhyun holds Chen, both of them turns invisible in the blink of an eye, and goes closer to save D.O. without hurting the tree. “No use, dear children, I can see you” seizing both of them with another roots.

D.O. using his strength powers to free himself, making the roots broke in two. He snaps the roots that tangled Baekhyun and Chen as well. Few other roots going on their way. D.O. ready to fight Grandma Willow when the roots float in the air when D.O. clench his both fists. “Wow!! What happened?” Chen looking at D.O. “I don’t know too” D.O. still doing the same gesture. “Well done, my child. You have absorbed gravity manipulation when I nab you just now.” D.O. release his clench fists, and the roots fall on the ground. “You must focus…. For anything you channel when using this power, will be float on the air, and for anything on the air, you can bring them down too”.

“Great! So, for example, I can take any flying objects or flying creatures with my new power?” D.O. asks for clarification, and the willow tree affirms. “Wow…. Thank you.” D.O. still bewildered with his new ability. ���Well, last but not least, we haven’t seen your other brother here uses his new power”. Chen puzzled. “Are you giving me new powers too when you choke me with the roots just now?” He impose a question. “Brilliant child. Yes, I gave you electro-kinesis. Human body has energy, has electric inside you. With this power, you can control anything related to energies, electric, and more….. With your power, you can cast lightning bolts”.

“Cool…. Next time, you can turn any electric equipment at….” Baekhyun didn’t finish his word, instead laughing at pouting Chen. “Shall we have a test on this lightning bolts?” D.O. teases Chen. “Come on guys….. My power is just….” He didn’t get to finish his word when Grandma Willow throw her roots at Chen. Luckily Chen manage to escape, hence using electro-kinesis to control the roots. Both D.O. and Baekhyun clapping their hands. They laugh when Chen pouts again, and this time, Grandma Willow laugh with them.

“I think we have been separated from them long enough. We need to go back now. I don’t want them to worry about us” D.O. encourages them to return home. They hug and thank Grandma Willow for the guide and new capability; then they gathered back with the rest of their brothers and call it a day.

To be continued….

Uploaded on: 20th November 2021

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[shireness-says]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Henry is six the first time he visits the Circus. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

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

A week later, the Circus is gone.

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

———

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

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

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

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

And that’s that.

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t surprise Emma in the least. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods decisively. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

(She is not entirely sure she means it.)

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

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

——— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

Killian - 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Best wishes,

Belle

——— 

In time, the Circus gains followers.

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

And then - there are the Rêveurs.

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

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

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

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

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

———

Killian - 

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

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

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

Yours &c.,

Belle

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

It is not. 

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— 

Killian - 

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

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

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

Yours,

-Belle

———

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

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

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

Make a wish.

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And like that, the magician begins her show.

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

——— 

The Circus returns when Henry is ten.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Then prove it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, you managed that,” she observes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— 

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

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

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

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

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

Affectionately yours,

Belle

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

One they want her involvement in as well.

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

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

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

——— 

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

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

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

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

(Would he even mind?)

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t felt the desire before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How imminent?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I understand. Thank you.”

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

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

———

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

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

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

Yours &c., 

Belle

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not hers.

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

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

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

[viastro]

lowkey | xu minghao

ミ★ synopsis: in which you’ve been pining after your fellow dance member, xu minghao, and he helps teach you the choreo one night.

ミ★ genre: mainly just humor, some fluff, y/n is a dummy, minghao is a softy

ミ★ warnings: none!

ミ★ word count: 3,648

ミ★ pairings: minghao x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi!! it’s been awhile uhh, i think i’ll be writing a lot more since i’m quite literally self quarantined. don’t hold me to that tho cause i’m a shithead when it comes to writing 🙈

You know, you weren’t that big of a fan of dancing when you were a child. The first day your mom brought you to your ballet class, you started crying because they wouldn’t give you the big, pink, fluffy tutu. As soon as the class ended you told your parents you were never dancing again, but look at you now. You’re 21 and you are still, in fact, dancing. To make it even better, you’re dancing different genres and are also now part of the dance team at Seoul University.

While you’ve obviously grown to have a love for the art, your parents still like to tease you and copy the way you used to cry about not wanting to go to dance. The most popular quotes they mock you with are, “Wahh! You can’t make me go to ballet! I’m not even the Sugar Plum fairy, this isn’t fair!” as well as the very special, “I’m not a dancer, for I, am The Rock.” (You had a The Rock obsession, so what?) Even then, you let them have their fun because you were truly a nightmare to get into the studio as a child. The three of you made the conscious decision to only j​oke about it together and to ​never ​bring it up to your dance team.

NEVER.

Especially since the guy you’ve been pining over for a good year is part of the dance team. In fact, he’s one of the aces of the team. There’s four of them: Soonyoung, Chan, Junhui, and last but definitely ​not the man of your dreams, ​Xu Minghao. The Uni students like to refer to them as the Four Aces, A4 for short. They’re practically Gods at the University, all the freshmen have a crush on them whether they want to admit it or not. Whenever the big showcase comes up the four of them are a subunit and have their own choreo. It’s pretty epic.

You’re rather close to Soonyoung and Chan since they help you out after practice is over so you can touch up on choreo. Soonyoung’s usually the one you go to to ask for help considering he’s the one who comes up with the choreographies half the time.

“Okay but y/n, make sure to make that move sharper. It shouldn’t be that soft, it has to be aggressive. Yeah, like that!” Soonyoung tells you with a big smile once you correct it. You grin, pushing your bangs off your sweaty forehead. You glance over at the clock to see that it’s 12 am already.

“Let’s continue on Monday, Soonyoung. It’s already really late.” You tell him and he looks up at the clock, shock now displayed over his features. “Holy shit. I didn’t even realize it’s already midnight.” He mutters, making his way over to his bag to pack up his stuff.

“Time flies when you’re with a cool gal like me.” You joke.

Soonyoung looks up and stares at you, no emotion on his face. The room is in pure silence.

“You are hilarious.” Soonyoung says blankly after a beat and you throw your sweat towel at him. He lets out a giggle, dodging said sweat towel. You chug the last of the water in your bottle, before tossing it into your bag. You throw your gym bag over your shoulder and pick up the sweat towel you threw at Soonyoung.

“You’re lucky this bitch didn’t land on your face. It would’ve been a tragedy.” You tell him with a smile, going in for a high five.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later y/n!” You wave bye and head out the door.

“UghhhHHHH!” You screech into your pillow, kicking the bed with your feet at the same time. Seungcheol stares at you as you have a mental breakdown from the chair by your bedroom window. You lift your head up to suck in some more air before slamming your face back down into the pillow to scream some more.

“Y/N... please... I just wanted some ramen.” Seungcheol begs from the chair, flipping himself so that his head is hanging from the end of the seat where your ass is supposed to be. You lift your head up, shooting him the scariest death glare you can muster. He squeaks, closing his eyes and turning away.

“Haha.... Just kidding... go ahead...”

You turn over in bed, now staring at your ceiling. You recall the previous events of your day that has led up to this exact moment of internal self ​LOATHING​.

earlier...

“Soonyoung, can you come look at this?” You call from the floor of the dance studio, he turns and jogs on over you after telling Jun and Minghao to wait a minute. Minghao stares at you and you glance down at the IPad right away. ​Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god.

“What’s up?” Soonyoung asks as he plops down beside you, back against the mirrors. You show him the competition list, and he lets out a sigh. “God.” He mutters, turning off the IPad and pushing it to the side.

“Guys, we’re competing against Mayhem.” Soonyoung announces to the group and almost everyone groans. Well, pretty much everyone except Wheein. She ends up choking on her water mid-sip and leaves the studio in a coughing fit.

“Literally why. I swear, they have something against us. Not even kidding, they literally wanna eat our ASS!” Jun yells and Minghao pats him on the back. You put your head into your hands, closing your eyes as you realize how much harder Soonyoung and Chan are gonna push the group to make sure we get another win.

So basically Mayhem are your biggest competitor, but they have a vengeance against your group specifically. You’re not sure whether it was because of the time you accidentally walked in on one of their lead dancers using the restroom because she didn’t lock the door, or the time Chan ate the last chocolate donut in the rehearsal room. Either way, they’ve made it their ultimate life goal to beat you guys in every competition.

Too bad they haven’t been able to do that.

“As long as we work harder, it’ll all work out in the end. Everyone, get in formations.” Soonyoung announces, clapping his hands. Everyone makes their way to the middle of the dance studio, but you sit there and pout.

“Y/N, c’mere.” Chan calls over, shooting you one of his dazzling smiles and making a grabby hand towards you. You sigh, unable to say no to one of the cutest men alive.

Guess I'll die.

“Y/N, hit that move harder! Good!” Soonyoung yells as he watches you practice in the mirror. You feel your cheeks get warm after he calls you out in front of the rest of the team.

In fact, you were so embarrassed by the constructive criticism that when it was time to change the formation you accidentally tripped over Minghao’s foot, aka the foot of the guy you’ve had a crush on for the past two years haha !

This causes you to fall forward, about to plummet your face into the hardwood floor, only for Minghao to quickly step forward and wrap his arm around your waist, spinning you around, basically saving you from a lot of physical pain. It was, indeed, one of the biggest cliches you’ve ever been through in your 21 years of living, but did that stop your heart from beating out of your chest when you were looking into Minghao’s eyes? No. :D.

“Are you okay?” He asks breathlessly and you try to find your voice so that you can answer and not look like a buffoon. Alas, you cannot escape from who you truly are. ​A buffoon. ​You end up squeaking out a “yes.” and twirl yourself out of his grasp, only to trip over your own two feet so he reaches out and steadies you once again.

“Welcome back.” Minghao jokes at the fact that you’re in his grasp once again and you squeak once more, jumping away from him.

It’s only then that you realize the rest of the team is just gawking at you two. Well, except the rest of the A4. Their facial expressions range between a look of surprise and mischief. Minghao begins to take notice of the silence in the room and ends up coughing into his arm to break it. Everyone starts acting normal to avoid getting on Minghao’s bad side.

“Well.. let’s run it from the top shall we?” Chan says as he casts a smirk in your direction. You stick your tongue out at him and he chuckles, heading over to restart the song. You glance up into the mirror and notice Minghao’s eyes on you, and he gives you a sly grin.

Oh good god.

present

“So.. what you’re telling me is that you not only embarrassed yourself in front of your dance team, but also in front of the guy you’ve been pining after for the past what, year?” Seungcheol asks. You nod your head slowly, and he has half the mind to giggle slightly.

“Motherfucker why are you LAUGHING at my MISFORTUNE!!” You yell, throwing your pillow at his face. Seungcheol dodges the pillow while laughing at your outburst.

Frowning you mutter in tiny font, “It’s actually been two years.”

“I have an idea.” You glance up at Seungcheol with a slight hopeful expression on your face.

“What if... you just talk to him?!” You are now frowning at Seungcheol.

“Are you crazy? After our four years of friendship you think ​I’m​ going to talk to the person I’m secretly in love with?! Absolutely insane, love. That would never work anyways, I’ll just admire him from a distance like I usually do.” You explain, sitting up in bed.

Seungcheol stares at you for a moment. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you pout down at your folded hands. Your hair is a mess from slamming your head down onto your pillow for at least ten minutes. You may have passed out for a minute due to that but that’s a secret we’ll never tell. He cocks his head to the side, now thinking about how dumb you are. What you apparently don’t know is that Seungcheol is close friends with A4. He’s heard Minghao complain about how shy he is towards you, and how he just wants “to hold her hand sometimes, maybe even a hug and kiss on the forehead. Perhaps even... a kiss on the lips.”

But I’ll just let her suffer. ​Seungcheol thinks to himself.

“Whatever you say y/n. I’m gonna start making some ramen ​myself​ now since you seem to not wanna get out of bed. Came over for us to have a ramen bonding study session only for it to end up with you being stubborn and threatening to murder me with a hanger. I hate it here. This is Seungcheolphobic.” Seungcheol complains under his breath as he gets up and steps out of your bedroom. You glare at his back, laying back down so that you’re once again staring up at your white ceiling. You grab your white pillow beside you and hold it up, imagining that it’s Minghao.

“​Hi. M​y name’s Minghao, I have nice black hair with pretty brown eyes and a beautiful smile. Not only am I tall, lean and fashionable, but I’m also a multi-talented man. I like to volunteer at the animal shelter for funsies and I have a part time job at a dance studio teaching little kids how to dance. Fuck YOU Minghao. Perfect ass bitch. Literally being my dream man I HATE it here.” You mutter to yourself as you glare at your pillow you’re holding above you.

You scoff, throwing the pillow onto the floor and turning over in bed, now staring out the window. The scent of ramen goes through your nose and you find your tummy beginning to rumble. You hear a new sizzle as you assume Seungcheol is making you both eggs. You sigh, getting up from bed.

“Wallow in self pity later. Have fun with your bestie now.”

“Y/N!” You glance up from your phone to see Chan standing in front of you with a knowing smile that has you feeling a bit nervous. “What...”

“So the incident that happened on Monday-”

“Oh hell no! We aren’t talking about this.” You shut him down real quick, standing up to walk to the other side of the practice room. Chan giggles and reaches out to grab your arm, stopping you from running away to safety.

“Channie! I don’t wanna talk about it please!” You whine and he laughs even more, patting your shoulder to calm you down.

“Alright, alright. I just wanted to let you know that Soonyoung and I have to go to a seminar tonight so we won’t be able to help you later with the choreo.” He tells you regretfully and you raise an eyebrow, heartbeat quickening a bit.

“Then why are you here? Who’s gonna teach me-”

“Chan?” You pause as you hear that familiar voice.

Oh... my god....

“Hi Minghao, I’m just letting Y/N know that you’ll be helping her out tonight since Soonnie and I are busy.” Chan says, and flashes you a sly smile. You almost reach out and choke him but he pulls away.

“Have fun y/n!” He sings and walks out the door, leaving you and... ​him ​alone. You glance up at Minghao as he sets down his bag, taking his hat off along with it. Your eyes widen once he looks over at you and you glance down.

“How often do you do these late night practices with Soonyoung and Chan?” He asks, taking off his windbreaker as well and you feel yourself ​break out into a sweat.

“Um, every week. Soonyoung started helping me once he walked in at like 2 am only to find me practicing for our first showcase in freshman year. It’s been our thing since then, Chan joined in on our late night practices when he was a freshman as well.” You explain, putting your hair up into a low ponytail. He nods with a satisfied look on his face, heading over to plug his phone into the aux.

“What are you struggling on? Is it the part before the change in formation?” Minghao asks and you almost throw yourself off a cliff once the vision of Minghao holding you from last week pops into your mind. He turns to look at you once he notices how you’ve become silent, “I just thought because of what happened on Monday that you were struggling with that-”

“No, no I totally understand why. By the way, I’m so sorry for uh.. falling... on you...” You mutter quietly and he shakes his head, waving his hand as if to say, no biggie!

“But yeah, that one is kind of hard because the formation change is one that we don’t do often, ya know?” You answer and he nods. “Yeah I totally get that, don’t worry.” He responds and you find yourself staring at his black hair, which now covers his eyes a bit.

He’s the only guy who can make a mullet look good, you think to yourself. He glances up at you and gestures for you to go to the middle of the dance floor, to which you comply.

“Alright, so let me play the part right before the formation changes so that I can see you do it. Then we can work on what I see you struggling on and fix it.” You nod. It didn’t hit you until now that the guy you’ve been pining over is going to watch you dance by yourself, analyzing your every move to see what mistake you’d make. Now that it’s hit you, you think you’re gonna shit yourself.

Minghao gives you a thumbs up in the mirror and starts the music. Once you notice the part coming you glance up in the mirror, feeling your stage persona take over and the nerves ease away. Minghao watches you turn from the shy, timid person he knows, to a confident and talented woman as you dance. The change has him in awe as he watches you wink in the mirror when you hit a move nicely. He sees you fumble a bit shortly after before catching yourself, continuing to perform as if it never occurred. He pauses the music once you go to your spot in the formation, and you catch your breath.

“You’re really fantastic at what you do, I could see your stage presence come out and it was really uh, attractive, ​to see. I noticed the technicality error, and it’s really small so don’t worry. I’ll just run through it with you.” Minghao explains and you nod, feeling your face heat up when he compliments you. What you don’t notice is that Minghao’s full on blushing right now from his slip up, but he turns away before you can take notice of it.

“So you need to watch your footing here, because you fumbled a bit during this part,” Minghao performs the specific move where your feet cross over before going into a spin. His movements are similar to water, usually so soft and gentle but later become sharp, similar to an ocean wave crashing onto the shore.

“Try that.” He tells you after he specifies what made you slip up and you nod. Getting into position, you redo what he did and he smiles, clapping his hands.

“Nice! Okay now,” He does the small body roll and you bite the inside of your cheek, cursing to yourself. You stare at his face, noticing the small furrow to his brow as he puffs up his chest for the next move. Minghao glances up into your eyes as he does this and pauses. Warmth floods your face as he seemingly stops teaching you. ​She’s so pretty, Minghao thinks to himself as he watches you for a moment. He runs a hand through his hair, breaking the eye contact as he glances down at the shiny wood floor.

“Is there something on my face?” He mutters and you break out of your spell, shaking your head profusely.

“No! No, sorry I just...” You panic, fingers fumbling together as you try and come up with a response that doesn’t mention how handsome he is and how much you wanna run your fingers through his hair.

“You just what?” Minghao asks, cocking his head to the side as he watches you internally freak the fuck out.

“I just... I really think you’re an amazing dancer and you’re really handsome but it’s so much more than that. You’re so passionate and good at what you do, but I’m really intimidated by you and I’ve been crushingonyouforyears so being in a room alone with you is really nerve-wracking.” You quickly explain. He freezes, staring at you with wide eyes. You also quite literally pause.

CUT THE CAMERAS...

DEADASS!!! Did I DEADASS JUST CONFESS IN A FIT OF NERVOUSNESS!!

“I... am so sorry. I’m going to go. You don’t have to like me back, I’m so sorry!” You apologize profusely, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes as you start to back up towards your bag. He reaches out and gently takes a hold of your wrist, pulling you to him in a hug. You freeze in his embrace, and he nuzzles his head into your neck.

“Don’t go. I like you too, y/n.” He mutters quietly.

And this. This is when you start sobbing.

You fall to your knees, covering your face with your hands as you ugly sob right in front of the guy who you no longer have to pine after. He’s staring at you helplessly as you cry into your hands about the fact that you thought your crush was hopeless for years, and how you never expected this to happen.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’ve been really e-emotionally unstable, ​hiccup, r​ecently for no reason. This is like, the best day of my, ​hiccup, l​ife.” You explain through your tears and Minghao lets out one of his cute little giggles that sends you over the edge once again. You let out a loud sob and he giggles again, pulling you to him in a hug and rubbing small circles on your back.

“That’s okay, we can keep it a secret from everyone that you sobbed after I confessed to you.” He tells you soothingly and you hit his arm softly, making him chuckle at you.

“How are you so calm right now?” You complain, pulling back ​regretfully f​ rom the hug and looking up at him with tear tracks running down your face, along with a bit of snot. ​How cute, h​e thinks to himself. He reaches over to his bag from the floor and grabs his towel, wiping away your snot and tears.

“I’m quite literally shitting bricks right now from happiness, but I’m just not showing it because I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” Minghao explains and you bite the inside of your cheek. You glance back up at him and he gives you a small smile, reaching up and patting your head.

“You wanna get back to the choreo?” He asks you and you shrug, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. Crying made you tired.

“Can we just hug for a bit more?” You ask and he smiles, pulling you back into his warm embrace. You sigh contentedly, nuzzling your head into his shoulder. You both stay like that for a while, letting the recent events settle into your thrumming hearts.

“Does this mean we’re... boyfriend and girlfriend...” (👉👈) Minghao asks shyly, breaking the comfortable silence. Giggling, you reply, “I believe so Minghao.”

He squeezes you even tighter, nuzzling his head further into the crook of your neck.

“Good.”

[ghosstkid]

all this heaven never could describe such a feeling

title from the song “all this and heaven too” by florence and the machine 

this story goes hand in hand with this one and this one  <3 

ao3

Golden chandeliers twinkle like faraway stars. Laughter floats through the humid air, jarring and out of tune with the music drifting from the violins, cellos and harps. The tall doors have been opened, the party spilling out into the spring night; the delightful air scented with the smell of blooms drifts through the golden ballroom.

James wishes to be out in that night air, strolling among the roses and admiring the stars overhead but he must be polite, must smile and greet those who approach him, curious and cautious; the valiant explorer who went to the furthest, coldest corners of the globe, but never quite found what he was looking for.

He leans closer to Ann and her fluttering pink fan, a small relief from the humidity that threatens to suffocate him in his heavy, gilded uniform. Noticing him leaning over her shoulder, Ann lifts her hand higher, the fan’s cooling air drifting over her shoulder and playing with James’s strawberry curls.

“How much longer must we stay?” James whispers, enviously watching a young couple escape the ballroom into the garden. He watches the young man in his new uniform; he still has yet to grow into it. He must feel invincible as he takes his lady’s hand and leads her into the night, his heart racing in his chest.

So completely and utterly overwhelmed with love.

James knows the feeling well. His left hand slips into his pocket, his fingers curling around the golden button resting there among the folds of navy blue wool. His right fingers interlock with Ann’s, the soft pink silk of her glove gentle against his fingers.

“We will stay just a little longer, my love,” Ann says, her fan fluttering at an impossible speed. Its white lace reminds him of the gentle moths that flutter around the lanterns in their garden, worshipping the light with every wingbeat. Looking down at her, he is amazed by how she glows in the glittering light of the chandeliers.

James straightens up, his gaze drifting around the dazzling room. The young couple has disappeared, no doubt finding a quiet place to whisper sweet nothings in each other’s ears.

A familiar laugh catches his attention. He turns, watching the group of officers and women in lovely gowns slowly advancing towards him and Ann. James’s fingers curl protectively around the button in his pocket.

“I want to dance,” Ann says suddenly as she turns to him.

“S-Should we at least say-“ Ann snaps her fan with a resounding crack as she takes her husband’s arm, whisking him onto the dance floor like a knight saving the damsel from the dragon’s clutches.

They join the waltz before a single word can be said to them, spinning around and around in a blur of navy blue and pink satin. The steps come naturally, both of them having learned them long ago. A cacophony of colour surrounds them, other couples moving in time to the swelling music.

One step out of time could be disastrous.

Over Ann’s shoulder, he catches a glimpse of turquoise glimmering like sunlight off shallow, tropical waves. Lace lines the rippling fabric like sea foam. The woman’s blonde hair is pulled back sweetly but the look in her eyes is distant as she watches James.

How lonely they are in this grand, glittering room.

The button in James’s pocket feels heavier.

Sophia’s attention is pulled away, freeing James from her haunted gaze.

The music comes to an end, a rush of applause sweeping through the hall.

“Shall we go?” Ann asks gently.

James nods.

He holds his breath until they are finally free of the gilded room, descending the steps to the gravel drive, his navy blue cloak hardly needed in the warm spring night. He holds Ann’s hand tightly as she climbs into their carriage and he bundles himself in after her, letting her tiered pink skirts spill over him. The carriage wheels rattle over the gravelly road and soon the whole affair is behind them.

James leans his head in his hand as he stares out the window at the dark, sleepy world. The thought of checking his watch to see just how late it is fills him with dread. He is content simply to let his eyelids droop, his thumb rubbing sleepy circles over Ann’s pink, silken fingers.

“Parties never seem to be like what they used to..." Ann sighs. "We have been to some rather fun balls before… do you remember, my love?” She smiles as she leans her head against his shoulder. He can smell the pink rose in her hair, picked from their garden for the occasion.

“I remember,” James says softly.

“Do you remember how we would sneak away after the third dance… Oh, how angry father was,” she giggles. James smiles.

“No one dances quite as gracefully as you, my sweet.”

“I worked very hard on it! What was I supposed to do while you were away in Antarctica, frolicking with penguins!”

“Frolicking with penguins-” James cannot help his snort. “You dance much better than a penguin.” He laughs when she playfully hits his arm with her fan.

“I would hope I do!” she laughs as she settles against his shoulder again. He smiles, leaning his head against her’s. He is careful not to crush the pink rose nestled among her curls. The swaying of the carriage and the sweet smell of roses lulls him into a shallow sleep, visions of parties from yesterday waltzing through his mind.

He is startled when the rattling carriage finally comes to a stop out front of their door. With a gentle tap on Ann’s knee, he rouses her from her doze and helps her from the carriage.

Inside, the great house is quiet at this late hour. The dim lights have been left on for them. He takes off his cloak, laying it over the arm of his chair in their sitting room. He doesn’t mind if it wrinkles now.

“Coming to bed?” James asks. He looks up as he feels the warm night air sweep into the room. Ann stands by the open doorway to the terrace and the garden beyond. Lanterns burn brightly, illuminating the roses in golden, flickering light.

The light reminds him of another golden night, chandeliers hanging from ship masts and dazzling mirrors reflecting that crystal light back on him.

“It is so lovely this time of year,” Ann says quietly as James comes to stand by her side. “When you were away, I missed you most on nights like this, so warm and the birds sing until the sun sets. They reminded me that the ice would melt and you would come home.” She smiles up at him. James presses a kiss to her gloved hand.

“I wish you were there that night,” James says as he steps out onto the terrace. The golden adornments on his uniform twinkle like the stars above them.

“Which night?” Ann smiles.

“The ball we hosted at Van Diemen’s Land. Erebus has never looked so beautiful. A fairy ship,” James says. He can still see that night clearly, hear the music and smell the flowers that draped the ships. “We danced till the sun came up. And Francis, he…” James’s voice breaks. He takes a deep breath.

“You had a ball in Antarctica too. Did you dance then? In the snow?” Ann asks gently. James smiles tearfully.

“Y-Yes,” he hiccups. “Yes, we danced in the snow.”

“What was it like?” Ann asks. James glances down at her, still stunned by how beautiful she is; the sweet glowing pink of her gown, the softness of the lace and the intoxicating scent of roses. Moths flutter around the lanterns. His fingers trace the lace on her shoulder. “How did you and Francis dance, James?”

“Miss Ross,” James says. Ann raises an eyebrow as he plucks the fan from her hand. She laughs as he snaps it open and flutters it in front of his teary cheeks. “He called me Miss Ross.”

“Oh… Well then, Miss Ross. How did you dance in the south?”

“First, he bowed to me.”

Ann giggles as she tries to bow, her pink and white skirts gathering on the stones. She straightens to look up at him, his smile hidden behind her pink fan.

“And then what did you do, Miss Ross?”

“He swept me into his arms and we began to waltz, the snow crunching under our boots,” he says as he closes the fan. Ann reaches for his hands, pulling him close. She tries her best to lead them in a waltz, teetering down the terrace steps out onto the soft grass; a blur of pink, lace and navy blue. She laughs as she tries to spin him around, balancing on her tiptoes so he might spin under her arm. The tails of his uniform fly around him.

“And he pulled me close,” he says and Ann does the same, her arm around his waist. “And he would step on my boots… I did not mind.” Ann giggles as he lifts her up so she can stand on the toes of his boots, her dainty pink slippers soft against the polished leather. The tips of their noses brush together. “Standing so close..." James whispers, his lips almost meeting her’s. He can feel her warm breath on his cheeks. Her arms tighten around him. “I thought he might kiss me.”

“And did he kiss you, Miss Ross?”

James’s pink lips pull into a small smile.

Ann leans forward, capturing his smile in a warm kiss. Her silk-covered fingers clutch at the soft wool of his uniform, his own hands lost in the ruffles of lace and pink about her waist, the tiers reminding him of a delicious cake covered in icing and flowers made of sugar. Her breath is hot against his cheek. He feels himself drowning in the kiss just as he had that beautiful, cold night, holding on for dear life, for just one more second of closeness and warmth.

So completely and utterly overwhelmed with love.

Ann begins to pull away and he only leans closer, unable to let her go. She giggles against his lips, cupping his cheeks as she pulls away. “I should have thanked him,” Ann whispers. “For being such a good partner for my lovely, sweet Miss Ross.” He smiles, letting go of her hand to reach into his pocket, his fingers curling around the button there. He takes it out, holding it gently in his palm. Ann places her hand over his, the button safe between their palms. “Perhaps one day… we will all dance together again.” She takes a step back, leading James in a gentle waltz around the garden, the smell of roses lingering in the night air.

Soon the sun will rise but for now, they are content to sway slowly through the garden as if floating on the spring breeze.

[rockislandadultreads]

Menacing & Intensifying Novels: Book Recommendations 

The Echo Wife by Sarah Gailey

I’m embarrassed, still, by how long it took me to notice. Everything was right there in the open, right there in front of me, but it still took me so long to see the person I had married. It took me so long to hate him. Martine is a genetically cloned replica made from Evelyn Caldwell’s award-winning research. She’s patient and gentle and obedient. She’s everything Evelyn swore she’d never be. And she’s having an affair with Evelyn’s husband. Now, the cheating bastard is dead, and both Caldwell wives have a mess to clean up. Good thing Evelyn Caldwell is used to getting her hands dirty.

The Harpy by Megan Hunter

Lucy and Jake live in a house by a field where the sun burns like a ball of fire. Lucy has set her career aside in order to devote her life to the children, to their finely tuned routine, and to the house itself, which comforts her like an old, sly friend. But then a man calls one afternoon with a shattering message: his wife has been having an affair with Lucy's husband, Jake. The revelation marks a turning point: Lucy and Jake decide to stay together, but make a special arrangement designed to even the score and save their marriage--she will hurt him three times. As the couple submit to a delicate game of crime and punishment, Lucy herself begins to change, surrendering to a transformation of both mind and body from which there is no return. Told in dazzling, musical prose, The Harpy is a dark, staggering fairy tale, at once mythical and otherworldly and fiercely contemporary. It is a novel of love, marriage and its failures, of power, control and revenge, of metamorphosis and renewal.

The Other People by C.J. Tudor

Driving home one night, stuck behind a rusty old car, Gabe sees a little girl's face appear in the rear window. She mouths one word: 'Daddy.' It's his five-year-old daughter, Izzy. He never sees her again. Three years later, Gabe spends his days and nights travelling up and down the motorway, searching for the car that took his daughter, refusing to give up hope, even though most people believe that Izzy is dead. Fran and her daughter, Alice, also put in a lot of miles on the motorway. Not searching. But running. Trying to keep one step ahead of the people who want to hurt them. Because Fran knows the truth. She knows what really happened to Gabe's daughter. Then, the car that Gabe saw driving away that night is found, in a lake, with a body inside and Gabe is forced to confront events, not just from the night his daughter disappeared, but from far deeper in his past. His search leads him to a group called The Other People. If you have lost a loved one, The Other People want to help. Because they know what loss is like. They know what pain is like. They know what death is like. There's just one problem . . . they want other people to know it too.

The Glass Kingdom by Lawrence Osborne

Escaping New York for the anonymity of Bangkok, Sarah Mullins arrives in Thailand on the lam with nothing more than a suitcase of purloined money. Her plan is to lie low and map out her next move in a high-end apartment complex called the Kingdom, whose glass-fronted facade boasts views of the bustling city and glimpses into the vast honeycomb of lives within. It is not long before she meets the alluring Mali doing laps in the apartment pool, a fellow tenant determined to bring the quiet American out of her shell. An invitation to Mali's weekly poker nights follows, and--fueled by shots of yadong, good food, and gossip--Sarah soon falls in with the Kingdom's glamorous circle of ex-pat women. But as political chaos erupts on the streets below and attempted uprisings wrack the city, tensions tighten within the gilded compound. When the violence outside begins to invade the Kingdom in a series of strange disappearances, the residents are thrown into suspicion: both of the world beyond their windows and of one another. And under the constant surveillance of the building's watchful inhabitants, Sarah's safe haven begins to feel like a snare. From a master of atmosphere and mood, The Glass Kingdom is a brilliantly unsettling story of civil and psychological unrest, and an enthralling study of karma and human greed.

[awesomerextyphoon]

Charred Briar Roses - 3

Curse’s Broken, Now What?

Summary: The title speaks for itself. 

Parings: Orc!Bucky x Black!Reader, Orc!Steve x Black!OFC, Orc!Sam x Black!OFC

Word Count: 4,136

Warnings: Implied Smut and Some Violence

A/N: This was longer than I anticipated. Also, the princesses would be a US size 14/15. I totally forgot to mention that earlier. Sorry about that. Enjoy!

Back to Masterlist

Instead of spending 600 years in total darkness, you communicated with your sisters in a pretty well constructed dream version of the palace. You thought of new inventions and fighting moves, reconciled with Ghada about your fight the day of the curse, and kept analyzing what happened in the north west tower.

If felt like you were in the dream world for about a month.

You were talking with your sisters about trivial childhood memories when all of you felt arms around your bodies. Your surroundings started to fade and so did your sisters.

You felt chapped yet soft lips kiss your neck and lips. It was surprisingly nice, like a dream.

You opened your eyes and realized three things: Someone was actually kissing you, you weren’t in the tower, and the person kissing you wasn’t the prince that your mother had all but assured you but an admittedly hot (albeit ruggedly, your core notes) orc-human hybrid.

You and your sisters screamed.

You immediately try to push him away but he wouldn’t budge. That scared you because both you and your sisters could bench about five tons thanks to Doireann, the war fairy who blessed and trained you in combat since the age of three.

You punched him with a right jab once he broke for air. Couldn’t even get him off the bed.

He chuckled and rubbed his strong jaw and said what seemed to be a compliment in Orcish as you nursed your knuckles.

“I said that you’re quite feisty for a human princess.” He repeated in Common Tongue.

You saw that your sisters had similar reactions to their kissers. Fumnanya even threw a shoe at the one that would be later called Sam. The others got a laugh out of it.

After everyone settled down, we shared our names while you were trying not jump Bucky, the warrior who kissed you.

“So, I was wondering, do you know what year it is?” Fumnanya inquired in a mousy tone that she uses with strangers.

Steve was it, yeah Steve rubbed the back of his head, “How to put this. You’ve been asleep for 600 years. Just about everyone thinks you’re a myth. Hell, we wouldn’t have believed it if we weren’t right in front of you.”

He then provided updates on what happed after your birthdays, but you were only half listening. Your dumb fight with Ghada and your damn curiosity cost you and your sisters your friends, family, and life.

You wanted to cry, but Ghada motioned you to join her and Fumnanya in a huddle. You spoke in Nephrashim as to not alert the warriors.

The three of you knew that Sophronius was up to no good and it was odd that he was still alive since the average lifespan was 300 years due to the Nephrashim Crystal.

“We need to convince them to take us outside of the city since I’m guessing the spell Etna put on us to keep Y/N from skipping class is still in place.”

You rolled your eyes at Ghada snide comment.

“We take what need in whatever storage device Y/N has in her ‘secret workshop’!” Fumnanya chimed in.

“Hey-“

“We all knew where it is, sis. You’re not fooling anyone.” Ghada deadpanned while you huffed in frustration.

With that, the three of you rejoined the group and offered to show them around after you changed your clothes.

–––––––––––––––––––––

The warrior trio was waiting outside the room for 20 minutes when you and sisters finally emerged from behind the doors. The three of you wore much more comfortable clothing than the extravagant kaftans you wore in your sleep. The clothes also showcased more of your curves and sleek muscles they noted.

“What would you like to do first?” You asked. No sooner had you finished the question that the warrior trio’s stomachs growled like a lion’s roar.

Ghada giggled and together, you led the trio to the main banquet hall.

You and your sisters had a hunch that the food from your 18th birthday celebration was still good. Your hunch was right.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––

The hall was filled with food for 900 people. The tables were packed with: huge slabs of Gararagator Steak, roast beef and pork, fried chicken, smoked turkey, grilled and baked fish in sweet brown sauces, curries, pastas, thick stews, enticing side dishes, rich pastries/desserts, and caskets of mead and wine.

The warriors were drooling at the sight and aromas of the feast. So, when Ghada casually said to dig in, they devoured ALL of the food in record time.

You and your sisters managed to get some of the food before it was gone. None of you would admit it, but the three of you were turned on by the ferocity at which they ate and drank.

Once they finished the food and drink, the warrior trio leaned back in their chairs and sighed while they rubbed and patted their bellies followed by a couple of loud, brassy burps and belches.

Fumnanya asked them some trivial questions about life since the curse was activated which they answered in kind, but they got tense when she asked about their mothers.

Ghada, ever the politician, quickly changed the subject by asking if they would like a bath and one of the guest rooms to sleep in for the night.

Bucky was about to respond when you suddenly challenged him to a duel.

A couple of things happened: Fumnanya put her head in her hands, Ghada groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, Sam and Steve burst into laughter, and Bucky accepted with a chuckle.

You led the group to the sparring grounds on the western end of the palace grounds.

Ghada set the ground rules: each combatant may choose a weapon from the low-level, non-lethal weapons closet and the fight could last no longer than 30 minutes.

You both chose Bo Staffs and bowed to start the spar. It took a few minutes of sizing each other up before making the first move. The duel consisted a flurry of punches, kicks, precision strikes with your Bo Staffs, and near hits/misses.

It ended when Bucky spotted a weakness in your left mid-section and landed a hit right above left hip causing you to fall. He then pinned you down before you could grab your weapon with his face two inches above yours.

The two of you were so engrossed in your own little world that Steve had to clear his throat a few times to get your attention.

–––––––––––––––––––

Sensing the, ahem, tension in the area, Ghada suggested that you all finally head over to the baths.

Except for you and Bucky, you took him to your ‘secret workshop’. Something about the way he examined some of the weapons fascinated you and you wanted to explore that.

Bucky was quite dazzled by your variety of inventions like your solar battery, your new hover bike engine, and your 5th attempt at your waning swan (a cross between a scythe and a machine gun). He was examining a pair of your laser blasting gauntlets when you asked if he’d seen some of them before.

“Is there something you like?” you asked while he picked up an old prototype for a flash grenade.

Bucky chuckled, “It’s just that I’ve never seen so many inventions in one place before. When I was an orcling, there was these traveling ‘magician’ who performed feats of wonder for the kids in the village near our settlement. In reality, he was a con artist, but we didn’t care. He would always make our lives seem a little bit brighter. One day, the three of us went behind his tent and found all these contraptions in boxes or on the ground. Tuns out, they were relics of the long gone Nephrashim people. Well, maybe not so long gone now.”

He chuckled to himself again almost bitterly. “I was always entranced by what he would show us and, when he finally fessed up to using relics instead of magic, the contraptions he would use to perform such acts. Sometimes I would wonder what it would’ve been like to live a different life; one where I could’ve been a tinkerer instead of a warrior. Don’t get me wrong, I like being one. It’s just that-”

“You wished you had more options.” You finished noticing how delicately he was holding one of your mithril tools. He held it in a deftness that most of the artisans you’ve met couldn’t match.

His confession of sorts gave you pause.

You always hated how almost everyone gave your sisters praise for their interests and demeanor while you were usually belittled when your parents and Fae tutors weren’t around. They always complained about you not being as sociable as Ghada or as ‘sweet’ (quiet, but not really) as Fumnanya. You were always seen as causing trouble, but you just saw the world differently.

Some days you actually hated being a princess and wished you had a different lot in life.

Maybe this warrior understood you.

Taking another look at him, you realize that underneath this ruggedly delicious beef cake was someone who might’ve been something else altogether. Sure, he seemed proud of his accomplishments when you both were in the dining hall, but part of you wondered what could’ve been his path if he had someone who would’ve taken the time and maybe given him an apprenticeship or something.

You bit your lower lip as you mustered up the strength to ask, “I was wondering, I think I have something I was working on before the curse was cast. Would you like to help with it? I mean, you don’t have to-”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The two of you spent the next two hours working on a few prototypes. Bucky asked you questions about engineering and mechanics especially and you were more than happy to answer. It was nice to have someone outside your sisters, parents, and Fae tutors actually give a crap about what you liked. Neither you nor Bucky realized the distance shrinking in between the two of you until all you could think about was how inviting his lips and neck looked.

Unfortunately, your slowly intimate moment was dashed when Ghada interrupted them via communication mirror telling them to take a bath and go to bed already.

With an annoyed tsk, you took off your work apron, your goggles, and your gloves and motioned Bucky to do the same.

You led him to the baths, a wide yet indoor place with vast pools, man-made hot springs, and an indoor waterfall.

Looking at Bucky your feelings of embarrassment and shame arose once again. Did your ancestors really had to be this obnoxious in flaunting their wealth?

You offered to assist Bucky in washing his hair, but really you wanted to run your hands over his exposed skin.

With his nod of acceptance, you took him to changing rooms and you changed into a Soft Wrap Halter Bikini Top and Rene Fold Bikini Bottom in pale gold, the one that caused a prominent lord to walk into a compost cart due to how well it showcased your curves. Hopefully, it would work on Bucky.

You felt bad using your looks to get Bucky to make a move, but you were so sure that it would be a disaster if you moved first.

The slight shame you felt with your bathing suit quickly faded when you saw Bucky emerge from his changing room.

You cursed yourself because he was only in a loincloth, and DAMN he looked fine! Part of his long hair was pulled back in a high man bun, his shin was a beautiful smooth muted yellow-green with aqua undertones, he was powerfully built with massive shoulders (you thought the lightweight armor did most of the heavy lifting), chiseled pecs, abs, and thighs that you could’ve sworn the finest of Fae craftsmen had a hand in creating all wrapped in someone that actually engaged you both intellectually and emotionally.

You know your mother said that you and your sisters would most likely married princes, but you were glad that she wasn’t here to see you shamelessly lust over an orc. You still missed her, but both she and half of your tutors would have a conniption if they saw what you were doing right now.

It would seem that Bucky was sizing you up as well judging by the way his eyes were beginning to blow out with lust.

He must have pushed his naughty thoughts aside. “Are you still gonna wash my hair?” he queried with a smirk that showed off his tusks. They would’ve been intimidating, but now they look endearing and sexy.

You let out an uncharacteristic giggle and told him to wait right there while you went to the closet where the servants kept the washing items and got him silver spruce, lemongrass, rosemary, and orange scented shampoos and oils.

You returned to find Bucky trying and failing to put a towel tower that one of maids used to construct. Stifling a laugh, you took his hand and guided him to one of the hot springs.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Bucky groaned upon sinking into the refreshing warm spring, glad to not have to was in a stream or river for a change (the tubs back home were nice, but they’re nothing compared to this). The water eased his tense muscles and joints in all the right places. Plus it didn’t hurt that the spring was deep enough for him to completely submerge himself which, at 8’ 3”, is no easy feat.

The engineering princess was getting ready to wash his hair like she offered and Bucky couldn’t wait. She had to know what she was doing to him. Lesser men would’ve jumped her on sight, but not him. His stepmother and sisters made sure of that.

She poured some of the argan and peppermint shampoos into a bowl and grabbed a towel to rest her shins.

“Lay your head on top of this bowl while I wash your head. Okay?”

Bucky did as directed and she started to work her magic on him. She started slow,  working front to back, appreciating the way she gently massaged his scalp. At times he would let out low groans of pleasure at her ministrations, craving more from her.

Once she was done with the shampoo, she carefully lifted his head, emptied and refilled the water basin, and steadily poured the warm water over his head while trying not to get water up his nose.

Bucky turned around to see her beaming at her work. He smiled coyly at her pride, “Aren’t you coming?”, while motioning his right hand in a ‘come hither’ gesture.

She shook her head while biting her lower lip, probably not wanting to hair wet or some other prissy princess thing that was engrained into her.

Bucky decided to help ‘break’ her of that mindset by quickly grabbing her arm and gently tossed her into the spring in front of him. She jumped out of the water with a gasp and playfully punched his left shoulder.

“What was that for?!”

“You were too prideful and uptight!” Bucky chortled while she looked away failing to hide her embarrassment. He stopped laughing when he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

He then reached out and softly lifted her head with his fore and middle fingers. She looked a bit anxious when he closed the distance between them.

“May I?” he pleaded, desperate for her to say yes.

“Please,” she whispered.

That was all Bucky needed to hear.

He started slow as to make up for this afternoon, but he almost lost it when she grasped his hair and licked his canines/tusks. He growled as her petite tongue entered his near monstrous mouth, her light moans and whimpers goading something that Bucky thought he would never feel: love, lust, and passion.

Ever since he and his best friends achieved their goal, Bucky felt like he was missing something. None of the women in their community really excited him or really engaged him beyond his physical needs. Sure, there were plenty orc, human, and even elf females who would warm his bed, but none of them cared to stay and listen…except for you, the woman who was now struggling to take off her bikini top after talking machines and engineering with him without getting annoyed by his antics.

You were so eager — and so was he — but he didn’t want to have sex and then have you disappear on him like the others, not when he was finally making a connection. No, he would make this last a little longer, even if this meant disappointing you.

“We should go sleep.” He mumbled as his hand halted your efforts.

——————

With a heavy sigh, you relented, got dressed, and waited for him to get his things. Your eyes were downcast as you escorted him to the chambers he would be sharing with his kin.

Bucky tried to give you a goodnight kiss, but you rebuffed him with a curt “good night” and returned to you and your sister’s shared room.

You were greeted to Fumnanya gushing about Sam and his interest in the library. Part of you was happy for her. Fumnanya rarely got out of her shell and getting with a guy that was even remotely interested in books as much as she was exceedingly rare.

You wanted to say that you were excited for her, you really did, but you were still a little sullen and bitter about what happed with Bucky at the baths.

“So, you and Bucky sure took your time.” Ghada remarked as you were putting on your night clothes (a short tunic and mid-calf pants).

“You’re one to talk! Sam and I caught you and Steve making out in the changing rooms at the baths!” Fumnanya snapped. Great, even Ghada was getting more in the romance department than you were.

You gave Fumnanya a grateful smile while you settled into bed hoping that tomorrow would bring better fortunes.

——————-

You awoke with a slight start and a knock at the door. Grabbing your robe, you raced towards the door thinking it was Bucky only to find a letter floating in a glowing rosy pink sphere. As soon as you reached out to touch the sphere, it disappeared leaving the letter to slowly descend into your hands.

By this time, your sisters joined you in reading the letter. It was written by one of your favorite tutors, Aoife.

It read:

Dearest children,

If you are reading this, then this means that I am either dead or completely unable to reach you. I hope you weren’t asleep for too long, but something tells me you have. For that, I am sorry.

I wish I could be there to hug you and your matches, but I’m guessing you know of your uncle by now. He has been after you for years now. My wards were successful in keeping him at bay, but now, I’m afraid you’re on your own.

The mist surrounding the capital will fade in three days time. By then, you will need to go into hiding in order to not fall into Sophronius’ clutches.

Have faith, be brave, trust in yourselves, and be kind my dears. Also, trust in your matches, okay?

Warm Regards,

Aoife

Aoife was one of the few people who actually liked all three of you the way you were. Finding out that she could be dead was the straw that broke the camel’s back for the three of you.

When the orc hybrid trio found you, you were huddled on Ghada’s bed with the letter on the floor in front of you.

Steve gently coaxed the three of you out of your beds with the suggestion of showing them around the capital. It didn’t get you or your sisters completely happy, but it was a start.

The tour consisted of you and Ghada butting heads over where to take the guys (the theatre district is NOT better than the artisan market), Fumnanya pointing out prominent buildings and statues.

You could’ve sworn that the guys sneered at one of the monuments to one of your ancestors, but you let it slide.

But then, Bucky made an offhand comment about what was must have went into making this place and the sacrifices that was probably made.

You have thought about what must’ve went into making the capital, but never in a negative light. No one in the capital or in the surrounding cities, towns or villages were poor on dire straits. You made sure to get the truth through your little excursions out of the palace before Etna cast that infernal spell on you.

The thought was pushed aside when you and your sisters returned to your room that night. You needed to think of a plan and quickly because Aoife’s spell was going to fade in two days and Sophronius was hot on your tails.

“Perhaps the guys would let us stay with their community for a while.” Ghada put forth as you were getting ready for bed.

“That’s a possibility, but what do we have to offer? I doubt that a semi-nomadic community of mostly orcs would take on three enhanced human princesses for free” Ghada countered as she put on her nightgown.

“Are you serious?!” you exclaimed. “We have tons to offer! Look, Fumnanya is a great medic, you’re awesome diplomat and negotiator, and I’m good with machinery. Plus we can cook and take care of ourselves, so I doubt we would be a huge burden.”

“Also, we can give them some of the treasure that’s laying around the palace for them to use.” Fumnanya chirped.

“Exactly. We’ve got this!” You declared not realizing that the guys were having a similar conversation.

——————

“So, what should we do about the girls? I mean, they’re great and all, but can we bring them back with us?” Sam inquired as stripped down to his loincloth.

“I don’t see why not. They’ve actually got skills the group could use, unlike a lot of the females that first become part of our tribe.” Steve stated as he gnawed on the turkey leg from dinner.

“Maybe we could bring the tribe here! The city is completely deserted except for the girls and they certainly won’t mind us living here.” Sam offered.

“I don’t think that would be the wisest course of action. Like the girls said, the spell that keeps the mist in place will fade in two days. It won’t be long before Sophronius’ horde will crawling all over the place.” Bucky voiced thinking about last night’s interaction.

“Alright, we’ll see what the girls think tomorrow and go from there.” Steve concluded and the three went to sleep.

———————

Both parties began packing for their journey the next day once the guys agreed to take the three of you back with them.

You gave everyone three travel sized storage units. Ghada packed all of her notes on trade, language books, and art supplies. Fumnanya packed all of the medical supplies she could fit into her storage unit, her language, history, science, and geography books. You packed most of your tools, a couple of your inventions (including waning swan), and any materials you might need.

All three of you made sure to pack clothes, cooking supplies (especially spices since the guys were surprised at the variety), personal hygiene supplies, and some of the treasure/objects that would most likely fetch a good price without leading anyone back to them.

The time to leave came soon enough.

“You three ready?” Sam asked as you were making the final adjustments to your traveling clothes.

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Fumnanya replied as she gave Sam a hug. It surprised you how quickly she warmed up to him.

“Perhaps you should give Bucky another chance.” Ghada advised.

Maybe, but not now.

You made your way to the courtyard taking in everything. The dire wolves nuzzled your cheeks as you made your way to mount them.

Steve gave both Sam and Bucky a nod and you began your journey out of the only home you three knew.

Perhaps this new chapter will be a good one.

—————

If you had looked up at the third tree closest to the thorn bushes, you would’ve seen a solitary raven, a raven with four red eyes. The raven was a scout for Sophronius and it was recording you.

Video of your departure was being transmitted to a crystal ball in the throne room of Sophronius’ main headquarters.

“It seems the bitch Aoife was able to keep them young after all.” Sophronius remarked, taking in the princesses’ features.

“Alert the princes. We have work to do.”

Taglist:

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[quirkdotcom]

Where To? || Kaminari x Reader

Summary: Denki Kaminari has been working with the League of Villains for the school year. He's been putting up a front and fake personality to keep his secret safe. However, the one thing he didn't count on was you. In the end, Kaminari has been found in a pond, one hand from Shigaraki in his clutches.  The twist on this world? Like a popular tik tok trend, when you die, someone you have hurt the most comes to decide if you go to heaven, or hell. And you are his judge.

Warnings: Death

Authors Note: I honestly started this at like 3AM one night and now here I am 😳 Anyways, I hope you guys like it sorry for the angst that comes with it

Tags: @ijustwannachangemyuser @bluewritesmha @that-lowkey-weeb @pinkcowgirleggpanda  

One moment ago, you had been sitting in class, with the rest of 1A as they grieved together over the loss of Denki Kaminari.

Two moments ago, Aizawa was explaining how he had just received a call that Denki had been found, alone in a lake,  his quirk the ultimate cause. But one other important piece of evidence with him, a hand from Tomura Shigaraki.

Three moments ago, he had been explaining about Kaminari being the traitor of UA,  working closely with the League of Villains.

But now, you were standing across Kaminari in the same pond that he had been found in, an electrical current dying out as his cries stopped, his eyes finding yours.

"(Y/n)?" His voice was hoarse, eyes red and puffy. 

You looked around, fog rolling in around your legs, though you couldn't feel the water that looked to surround you, nor the fog.

"So...the rumors are true...I didn't think that'd I'd have to decide anyones fate so soon but…" 

"Wait...does that mean.." he started, but the words fell short, his amber eyes looking around once more. 

"You've died…"

"Then that means, " he turned in a circle, shaking his head quickly, "He...he got away!" 

You stepped closer to him, in response, he stepped away, "No! (Y/n) you have to be quick, decide my fate! Warn Aizawa Sensei that the league is on their way!"

"But...I need time…" you pulled back, hand falling to your side. 

"Just choose hell and be on your way! Please!" He pleaded with you, still leaving an open space between the two of you. 

You stared at him incredulously, "Kaminari...thats...I'd be damning you!" 

"Maybe I deserve it!" He yelled, his frustration and hate taking over as he kicked his foot, creating a wave of water that didn't touch you.

"All I ever did was pretend to be an idiot and betray everyone around me! And now you're here, and I have hurt you one more time!" His hands shook as he held them up, staring at them as they flickered with electricity.

"I sold everyone out each time. He asked me questions and without fail I gave them to him." 

You shook your head, "Come on...there had to have been a reason! Tell me that he was pressuring you or that he had some way of manipulating you!" 

His hands slowly turned to fists as he dropped them to his sides, "You don't get it! I faked everything!  I pretended about everything! I made friends in order to keep my cover safe! I even.. I even started to date you to keep my cover safe! So just hurry up and choose hell and go be a hero!" 

You stood quietly, his words like knives digging into your heart, creating chasms of heartache. Hot tears filled your eyes, you could barely wipe them away in time for them to be replaced with new ones, "That's..that's not true! Don't say it!" 

"(Y/n)!"

"No! Stop it! I won't believe it! I'm the one who gets to make the decision! Don't try to lie to me, I know what I felt and who I was with! You aren't like that!" 

At once, everything grew silent, neither of you saying a word more. 

Instead, you were reflecting. 

"(Y/L/N) was it? Im Denki, Denki Kaminari! Hero name Chargebolt ! Aizawa seated you next to me, so that means we're going to be good friends, maybe more if you catch my drift," 

You turned to the guy in the seat next to yours, immediately smiling and shaking your head, "Pfft wow! Are you trying to make a move on me already! I just transferred into the class literal minutes ago!"

"Hey what can I say, if I don't do it now, then the others might beat me to it," he flashed a wink your way, earning another chuckle from you. 

"Well, it's nice to meet you Kaminari, hopefully you help keep this class interesting," you held your hand out to him, watching as he shook it. 

"Sooo does this mean I've been friend zoned?" 

You didn't answer, only leaving him to guess as to what your answer was. 

"You...you were the first to welcome me into the class...even if you did hit on me right away. " You smiled softly, that memory of him had always been oddly charming to you.

"Because I had to keep my persona up," 

"You walked me to my next class, and any that we shared. You helped me befriend Mina, Sero, Kirishima, Jirou and even Bakugo…" 

"I already told you! I had to make sure no one questioned me or my actions!" 

"The second day that I had been in that class, at lunch, I had forgotten mine...so you gave me half of yours…and told me that if it happened again, you'd share any day," 

He didn't say anything for a moment, smiling before he did say something, "Sero called me a simp…" 

That day still felt so familiar to you….

"Oh no…." You looked around the table, seeing that the others, who's names you were still trying to learn, had all brought their lunches.

"What is it (Y/L/N)?" Came the pink haired girl, who's bubblegum skin matched in such a pretty shade. She looked so concerned for you, even if she didn't know you all that well.

You let out a sheepish laugh, "Ahh I forgot my lunch…this morning I was in a rush…" 

"Hey! Have some of mine!" Kaminari grinned, pushing his towards you, "We can split it!" 

You turned to him, mouth open a little as you were caught off guard, "Wait really??" 

"Yeah! And if it happens again, I'll share my lunch again! You can count on me,"

From across the table, the black haired boy, who had a contagious smile, coughed loudly, or cleared his throat, you weren't fully sure

After that, lunch had went by so smoothly, as if you had been friends with them for years. 

"And later that day, you even gave me your number! " he sat down, the pond water now going up to his stomach. Though, like you, he couldn't feel it. Whatever cold that seeped its way into his body, was long gone. 

You nodded, following suit and taking a seat, though you didn't look at the water too much, it was cloudy and murky, something you hated about lakes and ponds, "Yeah, and you sent me memes, even in class!" 

"Well, I wanted to see you smile…" 

"I know…" 

But perhaps the memory you would hold dearest to you, was one that he had tried so hard to block out as he worked with the League. 

The UA Winter Formal...just a few months after you had transferred into UA. The crew in charge of decorations had outdone themselves.

What was once the cafeteria, was now a room beautifully lit by fairy lights and pale blue lanterns. There were silky streamers hung across the room, catching the reflection of the lights off of them.  At the front, Present Mic was behind a dj booth, a line of students waiting to ask for a song to queued.

You walked further in, trying to spot anyone you knew.

Currently, you were dressed in a very light shade of yellow, so delicately pale that in this lighting, it would be mistaken for white. 

"(Y/n)! Over here!" Came the call from Kirishima, waving you over.

"Kiri! You look so manly! And Bakugo, I didn't think you'd actually show up!" You grinned as you walked up, earning a 'thanks' from Kiri and a scowl from Bakugo.

For the next few moments, you exchanged compliments with Mina and Jirou, and then joked with Sero. 

But when that all came to an usual stop, you realized what was missing, well..who was missing.

 "Where's Kami?" You asked, having to raise your voice slightly over the music. 

Bakugo turned to you, thinking back for a moment, "Dunce face said something about feeling claustrophobic or whatever, he said he'd be in the hall? I'm surprised you didn't see him on your way in," 

You nodded slowly, humming in return, "ah thanks," You left after that, making your way around the groups of people, waving as you could hear your name from some friends. 

As you reached the entrance once again, you looked up and down the hall, spotting him a ways away by a window, wearing black slacks, a white undershirt and black suspenders, his blazer hanging off his arm loosely, he had a tie on, a darker shade of red. 

"Kaminari! Hey!" You called, making your way over until you stood a foot away, "Why are you all the way out here?" 

"It was hot and stuffy in there, I needed some fresh air...and I was waiting to see if I could spot someone on their way in," 

Again Kaminari flashed a dazzling smile at you. And suddenly, your breath hitched in your throat, cheeks heating up.

Your stomach filled with dainty butterflies and you're pretty sure your heart stopped beating. 

What was going on?? Were you...crushing? But there's no way….

Sure Kaminari tended to flirt with you, and you always laughed at his jokes and smiled at him whenever he smiled at you.

And sure, sometimes when he handed you something your hand would brush his and you'd think about it for a few moments .

 And then there was that time when you were paired up in hero training, and you almost fell off a building in the city area, and then he pulled you back and basically hugged you because you were scared and then later on that was all you could think of.

...okay yeah you were definitely crushing but why did it have to act up now ?!

"Uhh…(Y/n)??? Earth to (Y/n)?"

 You blinked, looking back to Kaminari, who was now fully facing you instead of the window, "Sorry! I uh, spaced out there…"

"It's okay! I'm used to seeing you space off,  you do it often," Denki laughed, only furthering the complicated feelings you were having.

"I don't do it too often…" you gave a small smile, knowing full and well that you ventured into wonderland quite often.

 "Hey, (Y/n)...do you want to dance by any chance? Right here? I can still kind of hear the music," 

You gave a startled look, eyes wide as you took in what he said, but you quickly changed to a smile, "Yes! I'd love that!"

At your approval, Denki gently wrapped his arms around your waist,  pulling you closer to him, almost stealing away all the air from your lungs.

 You looked up to him, your hands moving up to circle around his neck loosely.

God he was so pretty. Even just the light that streamed in from the window seemed to make his eyes sparkle with their golden color.

 "What are you doing?" He murmured, gazing back into your own eyes, an amused smile played out onto his face.

You shook your head quickly, looking down and away, words caught in your throat.

 "(Y/n)...look at me," 

A hand moved away from your hip, gentle fingers cupping your face as he turned you to look at him. 

You weren't sure how it happened...but in a fleeting moment, he had kissed you. At this point, you weren't sure if the tingles running throughout your body were caused by you, or him. 

He pulled away for a breath with a smile, and you pulled him back for another kiss, an overwhelming feeling of happiness washing over you. 

After that, you both had left from the dance, and enjoyed the rest of the night together, watching movies and playing video games. It was the beginning of your relationship. 

"Denki.. whatever the reason for this...I know you aren't a villain. You're Denki Kaminari, the student who offered me lunch on my second day. You're the student who saw a general education kid crying and joked with them to make them feel better!" 

"(Y/n)..." 

"And you're the one who I..who I love okay? So stop trying to make me hate you! " 

His eyes went wide, filling with more tears. You rushed to him through the mucky water, grasping him. You clutched at his clothes starting to cry with him.

"I love you so much and I'll always love you, I swear!" You buried your head into his neck, feeling him hold onto you just as tightly as you were holding onto him. 

"(Y/n) I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry. I want more time with you, I want to spend life with you. Im sorry fuck..I love you so much. You're the reason I'm even here! Shigaraki was planning on attacking the school and he threatened you and I panicked and I tried to shock him and..and...the water here...I wasn't thinking," he started to work himself into a panic.

You stroked his hair, shushing him gently until you both calmed down enough.  

Finally, he looked to you, amber eyes red and puffy just as you had found him, and asked with a sad smile, "So...where to?" 

You shook your head, tears still falling as you kissed his forehead, the water and the area around you falling away, "I think we both know.."

[gothamsglam]

How Wonder-land-a-ful!

Transferring to SHIELD high did many things for Tony, one of them was reuniting him with James Rhodes. Just not how he wanted to.

Ever After High/Marvel Fusion. Ironhusbands, of course. (You don't have to know much about Ever After High to read this, think just some fairy tale AU and you'll be fine!)

AO3 LINK IN NOTES

I wanted to churn out one more story for the end of 2020, I thought something more silly would be a great way to end this uh year.

This idea has stuck with me for a while, and I finally wrote it.

Hope you enjoy!!!

~Vix

SHIELD High was so bland . Yes, it was grand of course, structured like the classically large fairy-tale castles of Ever After. The hallways were marble with lockers and vines lining the walls and trees and plants growing willy nilly around the school. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, and large arched windows showed off the beauty of the lands around them. In the distance, Tony swears he can see Sleeping Beauty’s castle.

But SHIELD high was just bland in comparison to home. To Wonderland . Not even the personalized dorms could make up for the fact that school was all year long— ew , who made that rule—instead of one day a year. Tony missed the nonsensical beauty of SI High, where the hallways ran instead of you, where you had to find the paintbrushes in passing period to paint the doors—free art credits!—, and the cafeteria that was switched with the auditorium.

But the castle-teria at SHIELD was just a long hall with rows and rows of marvel benches, pillars in the corners to honor the greek storylines and pay tribute to the last generation of Fairytale legends.

It was so boring. And just looking at it made Tony want to *poof* right there and then.

“Hi Tony,” Steve Rogers asked, coming behind him in the castle-teria, “Need a place to sit?”

Oh and this, this was another thing Tony wasn’t fond of. Transferring to SHIELD high meant he actually was walking among the children of fairy tale legend.  Disgusting.

Father was too fond of them, far too fond of them. Back when Wonderland and Ever After had many open portals between one another—back before the curse on Wonderland by the Evil Queen of the HYDRA family. Howard was an ambassador , the git.

Howard didn’t get the White Rabbit legacy as Tony did, no, Uncle Jarvis had. Howard was a part of the Wakandan court, one of many peace ambassadors to the other royal families, particularly the ones in Ever After. Oh, the tales Tony was told as a young bunny, of the Rogers Family’s legacy brought forth by the apple, of the Red Hooded Romanoffs, and the Rose pricked Wilsons.

Tony was glad he didn’t have to walk among them at SI High, he was content to only have to see them in the crowd at Legacy day. Tony was actually really excited for Legacy day, his own legacy wasn’t following his father, but rather his mother and Uncle Jarvis. Signing his page in the Storybook of Legends was a milestone Tony didn’t mind looking forward to.

However Tony also understood why James Barnes, heir to the Evil Queen, wouldn’t want to sign. To each their own, he supposes.

But ugh, SHIELD high had too many Princes, he hated it.

His nose twitching, Tony ducked away from Rogers—who was bigger, blonder, and oh the clocks was that a red crown on his stupid head? “Thanks, but no thanks, golden boy. I’ll just—uh—”

He looked out at the rows and rows of tables, at the heads of up-dos and flower pins, and the sea of gelled down curls and impeccable sleeves. Seriously how does no one have a stain on their shirt? It’s mud-loaf day!

There! Out in the crowd, a hand popped out waving him over, Tony grinned, popping up a bit and rushing away from the other guy, “See ya, Rogers!”

“Bye…?”

Resisting the urge to stick out his tongue, Tony padded away with swift steps, the click of his shoes drowned out by the noise of the castle-teria. Reaching the table in the back, he grinned at the sight of familiar friends.

He wasn’t the only one apart of the exchange program of course, in fact, he was the second wave of students, prepared by letters sent by the other students. Tony had his own assigned group of the next exchange student. A lovely little trio of kids. Peter would not stop asking about the royal classes offered at SHIELD and MJ was more interesting in the classes offered by Maria Hill. Tony wouldn’t know, of course, he switched out of those classes the second day after running into pig shit mid-chase. For a house on chicken legs, it was surprisingly very fast.

Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts was donned in swirls of light peach and blue with subtle armor around her waist and shoulders. Her hair was curled, pinned away from her face in a half updo, with the rest falling around her and nearly touching the table as she leaned in to pat the now empty spot across from her.

“Tony!” She exclaimed, freckles dancing across her face as she broke out into a smile, “got lost?” She teased.

Tony blew a raspberry, “Pssht, no, How could I get lost here? Wonderland was more interesting, this place is just boring,” he waved, twirling his fork in his food.

T’challa laughed, the matte gold detailing on his black jacket catching the light beans from the windows, it covered his purple and black card-like patterned dress shirt “That’s what you think, Stark. But with everything looking the same, you’ll pass by the same five classrooms over and over without noticing.”

Tony also laughed, “True. Remember, how—when you missed the upside-down sidewalk outside of bio-mechanics—you could end up in fishing class because of the fountain step? Every time the freshmen would come in dripping halfway through class.”

“Oh, does everyone still call them fish?” Sharon asked, pulling out Earl the dormouse from her empty teacup. He hopped up her shoulder to hide in her mini top hat. Her suit jacket was draped over her shoulders—rather than it being on the bench—and her cream shirt had mini hats detailed, blending in with the folds as it was only a few shades darker.

“Classically,” Tony replied with a wink. They turned back to their conversations, gossiping about their peers such as Maximoff—from Cinderella’s line—who was enamored with Vision—from the hunter’s line. Scandalous.

Tony halfheartedly listened to the discussion but was really on the verge of nodding off. His roommate—Justin Hammer, stupid son of the Cheshire cat—kept playing pranks on him and ruining his things with paint bombs. He almost got a fairy fail in physics because his latest essay had swamp goop over it! He had to stay up rewriting it, which wouldn’t be a problem normally but he had stayed up trying to make weld a new type of gear for his pet project.

Tony must have dozed off for a bit, because when he blinked open his eyes, he was resting on his elbows, folded under some familiar fabric. Blinking blearily at the side of his tray, Tony sat up. Well, that’s embarrassing, so much for his reputation. Pushing a hand through his hair, he avoided glancing around and instead went to look at his lap and pull out his pocket watch. However, someone else reached out to poke his side, resulting in a leap and an ‘eep!’.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty!” Rhodey smirked at him, “I think you and Wilson were supposed to have each other’s destinies. That was some impression you were doing.”

Damn him, Damn it all. Of course , Tony would fall asleep right then and there, drooling over his arms in front of James Rhodes . Of course the first time he’d see the precious son of the Alice bloodline—after literal years in different worlds—would be when he’s conked out in front of his dripping mashed potato tray in the flipping Greek castle-teria. Unbelievable, Tony.

And Rhodes— Rhodey —has the literal audacity to sit there with a playful smirk on his face. Sit there in his v-neck— v-neck!!! —map patterned shirt that should make him look like a dork but he doesn’t , and a necklace that dips over his collarbone —and oh stars —his hair .

Tony really should say something, “Uh—Hi, honey bear?” His voice cracks, because of course, it does.

“Hi, Tones,” Rhodey replies with a smile, and it’s dazzling . Tony just might scream.

Everything is muted, he couldn’t tell you if Pepper and Sharon were still talking, if T’challa had left the table or if lunch was even over. It feels like, for a brief moment, there’s only Rhodey.

Rhodey, who’s turning around to address someone else. Tony also looks away, trying to keep his ears from burning up and turning red.

“Tony, were you drawing in your mash potatoes?” Rhodey looks over, pressing slightly against Tony to peer over at his tray.

Which prompts Tony to dart out and pull the tray towards him with a, “Nooooo?”

Rhodes looks back at him, raising an eyebrow, “Really?”

“Maybe~?”

That prompted a laugh out of him, gaining the attention of Pepper sitting a bit away from them. “Oh, Tony’s still doing that? I thought that was only a Wonderland thing.”

“Hey!” Tony wrinkled his nose and glared at her, silently grateful at the fact that pulled him out of mentally gaping like a fish at his best friend—are they even best friends anymore? Rhodey probably has like a billion of them at SHIELD. “I can do it anywhere. It’s called art.”

“You wouldn’t know art if it slapped you in the face.”

Tony opened his mouth, literally about to say, ‘I mean if Rhodey slapped me in the face I would say he’s art.’ before he’s stopped by the one jellybean of a brain cell in the back of his mind.

Well that and Rhodey’s “If anyone can bring wonder with them to SHIELD, it would be Tony.”

Which, oKAY , Tony needs to stop exploding inwardly and actually say something, “Um, speaking of wonder, does anyone know anything about that one well myth?”

“The well of wonder?” Sharon asked, polling her hand from her mouth where she was probably stifling giggles, which rude, ok.

T’challa also answered, “I believe I might be of help. Why are you asking Tony?”

Tony darted a look at Rhodey—he can’t see his face because he’s looking at T’challa, but he swears that under the table his fist clenches. Weird—before looking at T’challa, “It’s a surprise,” He winked.

And it was! But for Rhodey. He was supposed to have it done pre-meeting him at lunch, but thanks to Hammer he missed his mental deadlines. It wasn’t like he had sought out Natasha Romanoff beforehand to ask about James’ schedule so he could know when they had lunch together or anything, absolutely not.

See—back when in Wonderland—, Tony and Rhodey would galavant about, exploring the lands and falling down many rabbit holes, quite literally. Tony remembers how in his workshop, Rhodey would always love seeing Tony design the swords and spears for the Wonderland card-guards—the Dora Milaje. However what Tony specialized in was watch-making, specifically enchanted watches. Watches with personality, with faces that weren’t just hands and numbers or mini mirror-pods, but near people like. Pixel-faires born of Tony’s creation. DUM-E was his first.

‘You’ was meant for Rhodey, he’d been making them ever since he heard he was chosen for the second era of exchange students. It really shouldn’t have taken so long, but without the wonder of Wonderland and his workshop, it was harder.

So when he heard about the well of wonder, the last remain flow between the two worlds, he knew he had to find it. Too bad it disappeared every night, popping up all over Ever After.

“It would be best to go with someone Tony,” Sharon said, “The well likes to frequent the forest.”

“I could go with you!” Rhodey exclaimed, well not exclaimed, that was just Tony projecting. Mostly... Maybe? No, probably.

“Really?” Tony asked, “You don’t—?”

“It’s my free period anyway," Rhodey shrugged, “Besides you’re already using my jacket, so now you can wear it in the forest too!”

“I—” Tony looks back at the table, and oh.

Oh , that’s what he was sleeping on.

T’challa mentioned stopping by their—his and Rhodey’s—dorm so they can get directions. There’s more regaling of the well, and mentions of seeing Bruce Banner and Thor frequenting the area, which ooo? But all Tony really remembers is seeing Rhodey reaching over, draping his jacket over Tony’s shoulder.

“It’s a date,” Rhodey grinned with a dazzling smile.

~FIN~

So do you like who is who? I didn't recast everyone, but I might continue this AU so maybe I will later down the line! Please let me know what you think in the comments and leave a kudo too! Love you all!!!

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 5 Part 3

Hello all, here I am, once again, presenting you with more of Midnight Striga. Thank you for your consideration.

Eda grumbled, awkwardly shifting in her seat. The fact that she was stuck here, in this den of propaganda and conformity grated on every fiber of her being. Still, the chance to loot this place after the fact was incredibly enticing, feeling herself grin at the thought. Glancing to the kids next to her, Eda took stock of what Luz had shared about them; the Plant Girl had serious power to her, enough to wipe the floor with full adults if she felt like it, and the Illusion Boy was a genuine prodigy, something rare, much like herself. ‘It made sense they would end up in Luz’s odd gravity,’ she mused. As the lights started to dim, signalling the start, Eda grumbled again, longing for it to end.

Bump strode forth to his place on the terrace, raising a mic to his face. “Ladies and Gentlemen! Witches and demons of all ages!” His voice boomed, echoing across the excited crowd. “It is my pleasure,” ‘Suck it up and think of the funding Bump, think of the funding!’ “To present to you… The Emperor’s Coven!!” With an explosion of fog and light, three Guards sauntered forth, with one even launching themselves into the air for the spectacle. Bump groaned internally at the theatrics, reminding himself once again of the funding this would net him and the school. The crowd roared.

“Now, I must ask you, do you all wish to know what the pinnacle of magic is?” He called out, hamming it up.

“Is it this!?” One of Bump’s students, one of the transfers from Glandus if he recalled correctly, excitedly shouted, before magically enlarging their head, collapsing on another student and prompting chuckles from his group.

“Wow, I have failed you as a principal.” Bump bluntly stated at the off-putting sight, not entirely sure how to process it. Brushing the uncomfortable moment aside, Bump regained his momentum. “No, it stands before you! The Emperor’s Coven possesses the ability to use not one, not two, but ALL Forms of magic!!” He boldly proclaimed, as the guards below unleashed dazzling displays of power. Privately, after his conversation that day of Boscha’s brief rampage, Bump wasn’t too sure about the Emperor’s personal followers being the pinnacle they were described as.

“Whoo! Luz, did you see that!” Gus excitedly yelled, bouncing up and down in his seat.

“Eh.” Luz shrugged her shoulders, before critiquing the group below. “Powerful, but overly flashy, and not particularly quick. Wasteful of energy, and not much technique that I can see. I give it a 6 out of 10.” She clinically listed off, marking each point with a raised finger, raising an extra finger to give the score, resulting in Gus and Willow deflating over her disinterest.

Oblivious to the musings of those who had started the change that was slowly encroaching Bonesburough, and the Isles at large, Bump continued his presentation. “And now, it is my honor to present to you,” and this time he wasn’t just speaking out of his rear, “an individual who stands at the top. You know her,” light and mist pooled around his feet, “you love her,” a massive, translucent raven cawed and swooped down next to him, tucking into itself, “give it up for Emperor’s Coven Head, Lilith Clawthorne!!” The raven burst away, revealing Lilith standing next to him as he quickly stepped back, wearing the traditional cloak of the EC and a stylized mask, black-painted lips quirked up in a smile.

Eda choked on her drink (that she’d stolen), desperately sucking for air. She eeked out a hushed, “Lily?”

“You know her?” Luz asked, Willow and Gus sparing Eda a glance of light concern.

Eda gave a resigned nod. “She’s my sister.” This elicited widened eyes from the three, and Eda just knew they’d be asking questions afterward. Ugh.

Lilith walked up to the front of the terrace, mildly glad for her former principal’s presence and his glowing introduction, she would NEVER admit it aloud but she always gained the worst jitters when it came to public speaking, even if she was skilled in it. She smoothly pulled away her mask, allowing her features to be seen and admired by the crowd. She felt a smug glow of satisfaction over her looks, before focusing on the present situation. “Citizens of the Boiling Isles!!” Her voice boomed, a neat little trick she had learned for just these sorts of situations. “I am proud to stand before you today, humbled by the exaltation you have displayed.” She gave an elaborate bow, prompting a roar of enthusiasm from the crowd. 

“It wasn’t easy to rise as far as I have. I too started from humble beginnings.” This prompted some muttering from the assembled crowd, particularly from those students who were themselves from rather humble backgrounds. “But now, I possess the highest honor of enforcing the Emperor’s will!” An honor that would all be worth it when he saved her sister, her stubborn, arrogant, bleeding-heart sister. “And today, I am pleased to present my protege!” She announced, raising her hand. In a burst of light, there she stood. “Amity Blight!” As the crowd went wild, she allowed her student to bask in it, a smirk playing across her face at the barely hidden giddiness. “She has taken the steps to excel, to ascend to the highest level! Work hard, and the Emperor’s Coven awaits you!” She shouted, slamming her staff down, and with a flash, she and Amity vanished into the depths of the Center, the crowd crowing in delight behind them.

Smirking, she and Amity waltzed into the main area of the center, watching in satisfaction as the excited crowd poured from the stadium area. Turning to her with gleaming eyes, Amity said. “That was amazing Miss Lilith! You were incredible out there.” She said with a grin, before turning serious. “I must ask, when will our next lesson take place?”

Lilith hid a smirk. The girl was eager, ambitious, skilled, and dedicated; even just one of those traits would serve her well in life, but all? She would truly be a monster to contend with as she grew older. She just needed to look into subtlety a bit more. “I believe I can schedule a lesson to take place in a weeks time, sometime around the weekend. If that’s acceptable of course.” She raised an eyebrow. She knew it would be, but politeness and social expectations existed for a reason.

Amity gave a solemn nod. “Of course. I will take my leave.” She said, walking off into the crowd, entering from the area containing those who had not exited the stadium, a smart way to avoid being mobbed by the crowd.

“Take care, Amity Blight.” Lilith murmured. “It would not do for your potential to be cut short.” With her musings over, she wandered into the main body of the Covention, prepared to meet and greet her public. Ah, the sacrifices made for a life such as hers.

Amity wandered through the center, idly taking note of the various Covens that had set up today. None truly interested her, but seeing the dedication on display, the willingness to restrict oneself so deeply in pursuit of one’s personal passions was admirable in its own way. She wondered what path she would’ve taken, had she not been born a Blight; would she still have this intense drive to excel, or would she be content with simpler things? She would never truly know, but it was an interesting thought. Lost in her musings, she was rightfully started when she crashed into someone.

As she fell, Amity caught a glimpse of the person who had also taken a plunge in their collision, and her eyes widened. Chocolaty brown skin. Smooth, swirled brunette hair. A light blue shirt with a stylized picture of a cat, tucked beneath a hybrid vest and jacket of gleaming white with a climbing vine decal. Well worn beige pants, and sporty looking shoes. Wide expressive eyes. And, most telling, rounded ears. In a flash, Amity had essentially memorized her appearance. Now if only she could puzzle out why she had done so…

With a small gasp of slight pain, Amity crashed to the ground, the human girl doing so not a second later. Growling at the discomfort, Amity quickly moved to her feet, wrestling control from her temper before it reacted over an accident. “Oh man, I am so sorry for that.” The human groaned, clambering to her feet. Stretching herself out briefly, the girl gave Amity a discerning look, before familiarity dawned on her. “Oh yeah, you were at the school that day! Amity, right?” She asked, holding out a hand for a shake.

Amity glanced at the hand, and briefly contemplated not shaking, before stifling the impulse, giving the girl a firm grip. “Indeed. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced, however.” She said, cocking an eyebrow. She gave a shallow bow. “I am Amity Blight, youngest of the Blight family and heir-apparent of our name and company, Blight Industries. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She recited, keeping the kind of bland, formal tone you’d expect from a meeting between politicians, prompting a mild look of surprise from Luz.

The human grinned, almost amused, much to Amity’s confusion. “Well, Miss Blight, it is a pleasure to officially meet you when you aren’t acting like a bitch.” She said bluntly, but without a hint of malice or mocking that Amity could detect.

Amity awkwardly clutched her shirt, feeling small at the reminder of her conduct from that day, however lacking in harshness that reminder was. “Indeed. Speaking of which, may I know your name?” She requested.

The human arched an eyebrow, but shrugged, agreeing. “Eh, why not. The name’s Luz Noceda. Why did you ask?”

Amity internally sighed in relief that she’d be able to finish part of her mission so quickly. “For this.” Stepping back, Amity once again bowed, this time a full bow at the waist, head parallel to the ground. “Luz Noceda, I, Amity Blight, offer my sincerest apologies for my conduct towards you prior to today. I allowed anger, suspicion, and bias to cloud my judgement, but that is no excuse for what I said to you. I was dismissive, rude, and judgmental. If my apology is insufficient, I will do anything within reason to make amends.” Amity shut her eyes tight, desperately begging to the Titan that she wouldn’t be ridiculed, that her words would be accepted. The fact that this was so public… it burned her, how many people might try and hurt her with this.

“Aw man, could you get up? There’s no need for that.” Amity cracked an eye open, spying Luz’s sardonic expression.

“I beg your pardon?” Amity started.

“Look,” Luz began, giving a loose shrug, “I’ve been called way worse before by much more horrible people than you. Was I mad when you said those things? Oh absolutely. But, I got over it, because it wasn’t worth holding a grudge against someone who probably ended up regretting it, if they hadn’t already regretted it after saying it, and had been punished enough. You okay with just forgetting about it all?”

Amity huffed, amused at Luz’s candidness. “Very well.” Her face grew serious. “However, I would like to make a request, if it isn’t too presumptuous of me.”

“Oh?” Luz mused, cocking her head. “That depends on what your request is.”

“What are you?” Amity asked, Luz pulling up short, dumbfounded. Amity continued on. “I know you’re human. But strange things have surrounded you. You helped Willow gain an immense increase in skill after just a short conversation, and was able to oversee her application of her new skill level. You were able to survive a confrontation against Boscha while she was wielding those flames. And there have been rumors about someone matching your expression appearing around town.” She slowly walked around Luz, allowing herself to gain a better look all around. “I want answers for the mysteries surrounding you. Please.” She finished, fixing a strong, unwavering stare on Luz.

Luz sighed, scratching her head. “Ugh, fine, but it’ll cost you.” She said, opening a single eye to look at Amity.

Amity nodded firmly. “How much.” She had told herself she wouldn’t be leaving the girl without answers, and even if her mother was annoyed at the expense, it would be well worth it to give Amity peace of mind.

“An apology.”

Amity paused, perplexed. “But I already gave you one?”

Luz shook her head, elaborating. “Not for me. For Willow. If you want answers, you have to apologize to Willow.”

Amity gave a smirk. “Well lucky for me I was already planning on doing just that.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Provided she grants me an apology as well.”

“Huh, looks like things’ll work out pretty easily! She wanted to give you one too.”

“In that case, I see no reason we shouldn’t look for her. Care to join me?” Amity finished, gesturing for Luz to follow her. Shrugging, the human girl followed the witch through the crowd, unaware of the elongated figure looming in the shadows.

Eda stormed through the Covention, nimble fingers snatching up odds and ends as she shifted through the crowd, looking for her quarry. As she finished stashing the last of her loot in her hair, her eyes sharpened, spotting her target. Gliding forth, she stopped dead center in front of her prey.

“Hey Lily.” Eda grinned, all teeth.

“Ah, Edalyn!” Lilith drawled, pulling herself up from where she had been signing a little Witchling’s poster. “You came after all!” She placed a hand under her chin, looking smug. “Still rooting around in the trash in that shack of yours?” She chuckled at her little ‘joke.’

Eda rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, real funny.” Getting an idea, she leaned over to the kids, she whispered. “Hey, did you kids know Lily used to wet her bed until she was-”

“Edalyn!” Lilith yelped in embarrassment as the children giggled.

Eda smirked, before pulling out her wallet (one of them anyway), and gave each child a small snail bill. “Hey, why don’t you kids all get yourselves a treat and go back to your parents, okay?” As the children eagerly nodded, rushing off, she turned to Lilith, her smile dropping into cool seriousness.

“Ugh, what do you want, Edalyn?” Lilith scoffed, folding her arms. Suddenly, she blinked, eyes brightening. “Unless… you’re finally here to join the Coven!” She cheered, a childish delight gleaming in her eyes.

“No.” Eda flatly stated.

“Oh.” Lilith said just as flatly, her excitement dead already. “Well, in that case-”

“I learned something pretty interesting, Lily.” Eda began, grabbing her sister’s attention. “About how the Emperor’s Coven presented what happened to me to the public.”

Lilith felt her blood chill; she had never really agreed with that decision, but it had been out of her hands. If Edalyn was bringing this up now… “And this holds bearing, how?” She asked, trying to play it off.

“I want you to set the record straight, Lily.” Eda said, a note of barely contained fury in her voice. “Now. If not sooner.”

Lilith reeled back. “I couldn’t possibly do such a thing! It is the Emperor’s Will!”

“Nuts to the Emperor, Lily!!” Eda shouted, slamming her fist against the wall nearest to them. “He used my pain, my trauma, my public humiliation as a way to get people to fall in line. I hate the Coven System, but I’m willing to accept that for most people, they choose to be a part of it. But using what happened to me as a way of scaring kids into falling in step!? I won’t stand for it!!”

“It’s not my decision to make, Edalyn.” Lilith coldly replied. “And really, you have no one but yourself to blame; if you just joined a Coven all that silliness would just drift away.” She firmly replied, internally begging that Edalyn would finally see reason, to agree with her, to admit she was right!!!

Eda paused. Then she chuckled. “Okay. I really didn’t want to do this. But! It looks like you aren’t giving me a real choice.” With a sigh, Eda stepped back, just enough to where she could point at Lilith at full extension. “Lilith Clawthorne, I challenge you to a Witch’s Duel.”

Nearby Witches and Demons gasped, reeling back, even as Lilith herself blinked in shock.

“Edalyn, you can’t possibly be serious!” She said, shock still coursing through her body.

“The terms are as follows,” Eda said, steadfastly ignoring the increasing mutters of the crowd. “If I win, you have to publicly admit the truth behind my curse, not that crap the Emperor peddles. If you win, I’ll join Bonehead’s little club.” She finishes, crossing her arms in defiance.

“Edalyn, you can’t be-” Lilith starts, only to cut herself off with a choke, as Eda formed the glowing white circle of an unbreakable vow, already sticking her hand through. “You really are serious.” Lilith breathes out.

“I am.” Eda says grimly. Staring at her sister’s hand trepidatiously, Lilith’s eyes flash with fear, shock, longing, pride, and finally, determination. Reaching out, she joins hands with her sister, for the first time in years… and completes the vow. The duel is officially on.

“A Witch’s Duel, eh?” A cold voice mutters in the dark, shadowed figures lurking behind them. “Well, won’t that be a fun way to start this operation.” They chuckled, their entourage cackling behind them, the cooling corpse of a Coven Guard behind them.

[yandere-society]

Candy Man

Synopsis: Stepping into the world-famous Hope World Candy Factory the day of Valentine’s Day, you are filled with an overwhelming number of sweets and surprises. As a confectionary lover, this is your dream, to not only see the inside of the glittering multi-colored building, but maybe get a glimpse of the interesting man behind all the delicious desserts. There’s also something here, lingering behind every jelly bean wall or chocolate cove. After getting separated from a tour group, you think maybe this was a mistake to come in here so carefree. There may be something sinister behind these seemingly harmless candies.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 4,300+

Admin: @mintedmango​

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: Yandere-themes, mentions of death/murder, mentions of gore, blood, passing out/fainting, knives, improvised weapons, being tied down/restrained, hospital beds, unhealthy thinking relationships, cannibalism.

The skin of your lips was being peeled off by your teeth as you nervously flit from foot to foot on your elevator ride up the see-through jelly tube. You could see almost every chocolate cove and red vine tree from the pink tubing your tour group was being brought down to. Your heart was pumping rapidly with a mix of excited and full of tension, and your empty stomach was rumbling as butterflies fluttered, trapped inside. You weren’t sure anymore if not eating this morning to make room for all the sweets that one could possibly enjoy was a good idea. 

You were so anxious you could hardly stand it. Ever since you learned that the infamous Hope World Candy Factory was opening up one day to the public for the first time, you decided you just had to fly across the country and see it for yourself. You’ve loved the company and all the creations that they make ever since you had your first Daydream Bar at the tender age of five. 

All you had to do was buy a ticket for the factory (that costs a pretty, pretty penny, mind you) and you were set for the whole day!

The only catch though was that it was only open on Valentine’s Day and it was strictly for couples to come and enjoy a romantic, sweet-filled day in the candy factory...

And of course, you were as single as single could be. 

That’s just how life goes, right? 

The elevator lurches to a halt suddenly and you almost stop breathing, your excitement overwhelming you. 

“Everyone, step lightly, we have much to see!” Says a stout woman with green hair and carrot-colored skin as she ushers everyone out of the tube and into a dim room with a tiny, tiny door at the end of the hallway. “Now,” she whispers, as she grabs what looks to be different colored (and probably flavored you assume) gelatin keys and sticks a goldenrod one through the small keyhole. “Beyond this door is where you get to roam the marvelous Grand Garden.” 

You gulp, mind full of wonder and awe as you watch her turn the key, and it glitters and sparkles with the bright light beyond the door, much like your eyes right now. 

From the moment of purchasing your own golden ticket, you have been scouring the internet in hopes you would find more info about the Hope World Factory and the mysterious secrets it keeps locked up tight behind its doors. There wasn’t much on the Jung family or the current CEO of the factory. Just rumors of an immense and large edible garden, with so much grandeur and thought put into it, it was something straight out of a fairy tale book. 

“Everything is edible.” She states with a smile before pushing open the door. “But please be advised to stay within the walls of the garden with your partner, or you could end up in some serious… hot chocolate.” 

A few people in your group snicker at her sweet-treated pun, but you can’t focus on anything except seeing what is beyond that bland-colored door, wanting to know if the rumors of splendor are true. Your palms are sweaty and your mind blank with anticipation. 

“Please come back to this door, under the raspberry truffle tree in one hour!” She smiles as she finally pushes the door open for you all to run inside, and see what the Jung family has been hiding for decades. “It’s something out of your purest imagination!”

Speaking of Jung family, you wonder if the rumors are true: the family's youngest son is in charge of the factory now, after his sister got engaged to a rival candy company’s heir. So many whispers and hush-hush with this family, you swear! Deep down you really wanted gossip and drama from them, as selfish as that sounds. You wish they were a little bit messy and spill their internal secrets to the world. So you only really knew what the internet and late-night television hosts would spread amongst the airways, which were usually ridiculous words of slander and vile garbage. 

But what you do know about the famous sweet CEO was that he has an amazing taste in everything from cars, to clothes, especially to candy and you’ve heard that he has an amazing, dazzling smile. Supposedly, and according to the rumors circulating everywhere. 

“Where’s your date, young lady?” The woman with white eyebrows asks up to you with a serious smile on her orange lips, breaking your inner thoughts. Her eyes rake your features up and down, like a human scanner, and you can’t help but gulp. You hoped all your hard work was not in vain. 

“Uh-He’s in...the bathroom.” You lie with a wry smile, hoping she’ll buy it with just enough time to get you into the room she’s so close to unlocking. 

She purses her lips and looks away from you, but doesn’t ask you anything further on the manner. 

“Have fun in the garden!” She says instead of throwing you out and opens the plain door to the grandest thing you think you’ve ever seen. 

Couples scream and laugh as they whiz past you on your journey to roam freely around the edible valley. You can’t be bothered though, as your mouth is going to collect dust if you leave it unhinges for too long. 

There are no words. You couldn’t fathom half the things in this room. Is this even a factory anymore, or are you in heaven? 

It’s… simply breathtaking. 

The online forms were right - there is a giant edible garden - but the words and descriptions on screen didn’t do the real thing any justice. And, of course, they confiscated your phones even before you entered the building so you couldn’t document this creation out of a book come to life scene unfolding before your eyes. 

You are stunned as you walk on the hardened peanut butter cup path towards the giant garden in the middle of four, high walls. Your eyes sparkle, filling with tears of joy upon seeing the beautiful, wonderful sights before your eyes, covering your mouth as the couples in your tour guide pass by your idle body. It is seriously extremely super overwhelming: your senses are going on overdrive as your sockets roam over every inch of the garden that you can see. You just need a moment to take everything in. 

There is so much - so many details and little things going on. 

Trees made of marbled dark and milk chocolate stand tall, protruding into the blue-raspberry colored sky, pastel cotton candy clouds wisping around above you. Most of the whimsical looking plants bear fruit of all kinds and gummy leaves hanging low off their perfectly carved branches. You hear a trickle of something, like a stream of water, and see that there is a tiny clear yet caffeinated creek of soda-pop softly crackling its way through the garden. Following your eyes, you see there’s realistic grey rock-candy gravel and well, rocks, underfoot as well as strings of grass you can only assume are sour green-apple flavored, or even possibly key-lime pie? You can’t be certain but you can’t wait to try it! There’s a fountain spewing caramel in the middle of the garden, surrounded by a pool of white chocolate, and it's held together by what looks to be a brick, but upon a further glance, you suspect that it’s potentially licorice or Twizzlers, or a combination of both. There’s tables, chairs, and benches made out of finely crafted shortbread cookies placed along the peanut butter paths of the edible wonderland. There are colorful flowers made of lollipops and sugared, blown glass softly billowing in the artificial breeze, seemingly waving at you as you gawk on in shock.  

It’s all too beautiful. Your mind is having trouble processing everything until you hear an excited scream about life-sized gummy bear bushes and you can’t help, but want to investigate further. 

Your feet finally start to move as you are openly sniffling and crying: you are such a happy mess. 

A stout figure smiles at your back, a menacing aura surrounding her as she presses a single digit on her smartwatch to the man behind this beautiful room and factory. 

“Fritz?” He questions, nearly shrieking through the speaker with excitement. “How are our esteemed guests doing?”

“Oh… Well, I suppose,” her upper lip curves into something dreadfully evil. “But, we have a lost little crumb who decided to bend the rules and attend the party without a date.” 

The young CEO sighs into the receiver, watching everything unfold from his observation deck placed high above the ground, in order to study the humans roaming around his perfect, edible garden. 

He knows. He’s known since she walked in here that she was alone and didn’t have a special someone to share this day of candy hearts and love songs to. 

Which was perfect because well, you see, neither did he. 

He sighs as he tips his silkened purple top hat up to view the mesmerized crowd down below, throwing up his dark leather boots on the desk in the observation deck. Deep down, the young man was lonely, hiding his family’s recipes and secrets for the rest of his life due to the enigma that was the candy business. His usually jovial smile turns into a sour frown as he watches her stand shell-shocked by the river of soda pop, staring up into the cotton candy clouds. Or, paradise, as he calls it.

It was as if she was looking at him, knowing there was someone watching her admire and take in all the hard work that he and his staff have given to the largest and most amazing room in the factory. He leans into the window, removing his boots from the desk to watch her with her mouth agape take in the splendor and majesty that was his garden. His eyes widen as he studies her expression. She hasn’t even eaten or enjoyed anything in the room yet… Why is that he wonders? Was she a spy for another company? No, it was more like she was in complete disbelief that this was even real. Almost like she was marveling at his handy work...

Suddenly, the young man clad in his expensive purple suit has a wicked thought. Oh yes! If she is a fan of confections of any kind she will be a great asset to the company and myself! A dream only someone of his caliber who’s spent so much of his time up in the clouds could fathom. Or she’ll do nicely for some company if I end up breaking her in the process then! 

“Fritz,” he presses his watch up to his lips that curve into a devious smile. “Bring her up.” His amber eyes turn dark and cloudy as he thinks of his lair, a lab where he designs desserts and candies of all kinds. “I think we found our new taste tester.”

Oh wow! This is really unlike anything you could even dare of dreaming! You don’t think anything can ever compare to the concoctions and creations that the Hope World Factory has let the outside world enjoy for a mere afternoon. It didn’t seem right to you to try anything. If you ate and ruined all the time it took someone to place here so craftily and carefully. No. You didn’t think you could. 

Unlike some...

A playful screech comes from your left and you duck just in time to see a flash of white pass right by your nose. 

You watch with mirth as a couple runs by you, throwing marshmallow fluff off the cherry flavored giant mushrooms placed delicately around the garden. They scream and fly past you, making a mess of the precise and wonderful dessert and bakery items it probably took a whole team of people to create. You frown with judgmental eyes, studying the pair of grown adults act like they were children. 

Though you suppose, candy does revert you back to your childhood, where everything was much more innocent and easy to deal with. 

It was amazing what a room of sweets could do to a group of people. 

They race around, running this way and that, laughing and having the time of their lives with giant smiles plastered on their faces. They disappear from view and you stand watching the space from where they left, under a chocolate tree with gummy bananas hanging off of them. 

Shooting through your body, a zinging pain shoots through your heart feeling like the zap of a thousand volts of electricity that trickles down to your toes and lights its way back up your spine again. 

You freeze watching the pair disappear behind a licorice willow tree. With a tired gulp and a teary blink in your eye, you have to face reality. Truth hurts, as some would say: you are incredibly lonely. 

“Miss,” just then, the shrill voice of the stout lady behind you echoes from where you are standing and you nearly jump right out of your skin you are frightened by the sneaky tour guide. You all but tense up, breathing hitching as your sockets expand, fearing for the worst. “Miss, a word?” Your nerves were on fire as the soda stream pops and fizzles next to you, filling your ears with the carbonated crackling, as well as all the blood that rushes to your ears. Adrenaline running through your veins, like hot-white lightening sparking up and down from head to toe.  

Shit! You think turning to face the orange lady with a sheepish smile. I’ve been caught! 

“Y-Yes?” You mumble as she smiles on at you turning to face her fully. 

“Who can take a sunrise?” She starts to sing an eerie tune and your stomach pits. “Sprinkle it with dew?” Your eyes are the size of the moon as you watch her bring a bag out of her pocket as she continues to smile that weird, twisted smile at you. “Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two?” Your heart is pounding out of its chest staring at this round orange woman who reaches into her silkened purple bag, pulling up a handful of what looks like sparkling glitter. “The candy man can.” Her mouth continues to stretch across her face, as she makes invisible worms and spiders crawl along your skin that’s turned to ice. She lifts her hand and blows the dusty glitter into your eyes, as you try to recoil from the crazy action the tour guide throws your way.  

Literally. 

“Hey!” You yell, opening your eyes to find the world covered in glistening lights, the garden shiny and bright for some strange reason. “What the heck?!” 

“Because he mixes it with love,” she ignores you and continues chanting her odd song to you. Your eyelids feel heavy, your body suddenly sluggish, “and chocolate,” you can barely stand on your own two feet as you feel yourself slumping forward and backward. You feel like you are stuck in a murky pit of blackness, and will never be able to escape from the throes of this evil she’s thrown at you. Unable to form a coherent thought, sleep seeps into your mind as you start to succumb to the feeling. Darkness creeps around your vision as you start to fall. Two pairs of hands keep your body up as you hear the orange lady say a few final words. “And makes the world taste good.” 

-

When you come to your senses, you have a sneaking suspicion that you aren’t in the garden anymore.  Your eyes are clouded with that weird dust that the weird-ass tour guide blew in your face. There’s more shining, glittering lights floating above you and you realize all the spotlights are all pointed at you. You try to blink the dust away but every move you make makes your body ache for some reason. Why were you in pain? Did you fall? No, you could have sworn there were two people holding you up, carrying you, while you heard… singing, the whole time…

So weird.

Oh crap, speaking of that green-haired tour guide… You gasp a little, foggy brain finally waking up fully, and you nearly grasp. You finally understand. You were caught! You broke the rules though and you deserve to be reprimanded and rightfully so. But, the question still stands. 

With a groan and a small shift of your head, you try to grab your throbbing head, but it was sadly in vain. 

You blink rapidly. No. This had to be a bad dream right? You are not strapped to a metal object, right? No. Your hands around bound and placed above you? No. You try to kick your legs, only to find your ankles confined into shackles connect to the cool metal item. Loud noises of your struggle erupt from your body, echoing throughout the small, sterile room. Metal clanging around itself was the worst thing you think you’ve ever heard.

There’s… no way… right? 

Your eyes expand, practically falling out of your head as your empty stomach flips over on itself. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, throat running dry. You let out a blood-curdling scream upon realizing that you are tied to a flat, stainless steel table in the middle of a brightly lit, sterile-looking room. You hear the faint melody that evil woman was humming in the distance and you want to throw up you feel physically sick. 

This was something out of a terrible bad trip, a nightmare, a horror movie. Is this a scene from a sci-fi film? Your eyes are shaking in their sockets, unable to focus on anything. 

Sure, you broke the rules. Sure, you should be punished for it or be fined a sum of money. But, wasn’t this a little extreme? What were they going to do? Torture you?  Was the policy for breaking the rules to probe you? With a hard swallow, you honestly hope that’s a solid no. 

“Hi there, little crumb.” Comes the awful, nails on a chalkboard, screeching sound of the stout tour guide flutters in somewhere above you. No! You plead to no one in your head. No please don’t kill me! I haven’t even eaten anything from the garden yet!

Your heart is beating, drumming, pounding at the shackles of your sternum to bust free from your chest. Her sweaty, orange meaty fingers come out of nowhere to twist your face toward her. A twisted smirk forms on her scaly lips, her white eyebrows rising to her wide forehead to reveal her pinked gums and dilated eyes beaming, honing in on you. Her yellow, laser-like eyes lock together with yours, which enlarge in fear. 

“You think you are special, huh?” She laughs, throwing her head back and maniacally cackling. “You think just because the young master has chosen you of all people to be his new taste-tester you think you are something else?” 

“We are going to have so much fun,” she lifts a pumpkin carving knife up to your neck, “together.” She hisses, leaning in, and you nearly taste the bile, the vomit rising in your esophagus while you can’t form a single clear thought as you watch her press the shiny blade to your throat further. Your breathing hitches as she sneers, leaning in closer to practically spit on you. “I’ve loved him for years, since he had dreams to build the garden and you think that YOU,” you wince when you feel the stinging slice of the blade a trickle of blood runs down from your skin and onto the blade. “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE HIM FROM ME?”

You are going to die. You are going to die. You are going to be murdered in cold blood by this woman who knows nothing about you. She’s going to kill you and probably play jump-rope in your intestines. 

“Hello, little lady.” A cheerful voice filters in from behind the orange lady, snapping you out of your swirling, disintegrating thoughts of your impending peril and doom. “And goodbye Fritz.” 

Before the round woman could even think to turn around, your vision, that was once white and sterile, is painted in bright sticky red. 

Blood to be exact. 

It drips from the giant blue lollipop-shaped into a knife protruding from the orange chest of the orange tour guide. Red particles splatter upon your body, painting you in the warm, maroon color of her life force that someone is robbing from her. Her eyes roll back into her skull, removing the carving knife from your throat as she spits a lump of clotted blood out of her dry, cracked lips. 

Your lips part in shock, eyes continuing to stay as wide as dinner plates as you watch the lady before you crumple in on herself and slump to the ground in a heap of orange, red, and green. 

A man in silkened purple suit, with a shit-eating grin curving his lips and whose white gloves were speckled and smeared pink from the blood of his staff, was clapping enthusiastically. The sound fills the once sterile room, the noise jarring and ear-splitting as you recoil slightly every time his covered palm connects to the other. 

Why is he clapping? He beams as he steps over her dead, lifeless body as yours tenses up. And who the fuck is he?

You remember where you are and why you were here in the first place and you nearly jump out of your skin. 

He’s… oh my God...

The young CEO of the Hope World Factory: Jung Hoseok. 

He is handsome, there’s no doubt about that. His chestnut-colored hair is barely visible due to the matching violet top hat that covers his head. Amber eyes that sparkle with mischief under the bright spotlight of the medical looking room. You can’t help but drink him in as he starts to loom over you. His slender nose sculpts into a soft-looking smirk, that's curved into a tender smile, shines gently down around you laid out on the cold metal bed. His grin really is magnetic because you are completely captivated by this man who looms lower and lower over you, until you can smell the sweet aroma wafting in around him. 

Enthralled, enchanted, mesmerized… This man has a spell over you and you can't look away. 

But you have to ask, “Are you going to kill me?” 

He blinks at you in disbelief, smile falling only for a moment before he starts scream-laughing. 

“What?” He chuckles as he clutches his sides, cackling himself into stitches. “Oh, no no no, little crumb!” His nostrils flare, honey-colored eyes dilating. “You know who I am, yes? You’ve put two and two together?” 

You nod, with a weak ‘yes’ leaving your mouth. 

“Then you know I’m the infamous candy man, Jung Hoseok.” He sneers, slamming his stained bloody gloves on either side of you on the metal table. “I’m solely going to play with you, little crumb.”

A gasp leaves your lips as you register his words in your head.

You struggle in the shackles, trying to retreat away from the man sneering down at you with mirth. He cocks his head to the side, the bright light being blocked from the man practically climbing on top of you. “Do you know what my main ingredient is here at the Hope World Factory?” His voice drops an octave and his playful eyes cloud over with something dark. 

You swivel your head back and forth in a no.

Hoseok slams his hand down next to your head, nabbing your attention in full force. “Speak when spoken to, pet.”

“N-No.” You whisper, a tear leaves one of your eyes, sliding out of your socket, dripping onto the cold table. 

“Very good.” He caresses your face with the back of his pinkened-color glove. With a menacing and misplaced smirk, Hoseok dips down to your neck where the tour guide shallowly cut you. You whimper with trembling lips, closing your eyes moving your face away from him, which only reveals the pulse point of your neck to him more. “Oh, very good.” You hear him inhale before the warm flat of his tongue laps the trickle of blood that streams out from your flesh. 

Did he just… drink your blood?

Hoseok stands then, lips swollen and colored with your blood, grinning like a wild, maniac above you. “Oh, you’ll do just nicely.”

“F-for-r wh-what?” You shake, tied to the table you are straining, desperate to get out of. 

He raises his hands above you, eyes dark with no sparkle left in them. “I drained my last taste tester, broke her, some would say. But, oh you,” he cups your face leaning in to grin at you with his pearly whites coated in your blood, “you just need to lay here and look pretty while your blood is our secret ingredient for all things sweet in the Hope World Factory.” He shrieks, laughing like an insane person as he cups your face in his sticky palms. “Isn’t that great?” 

Your heart breaks as you silently beg for a quick and easy death like the lady on the ground. This was not what you had in mind for your Valentine's Day, as well as the rest of your life.

“You can’t keep me here.” You whisper, but it sounds like you are begging him more at this point than anything. 

He ignores you and starts humming that dreadfully eerie song from earlier as he leans back over to trap your wounds in between his lips again. “The candy man can.” He hums into your skin, his tongue swirling all over your poor neck. “Because he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good.” 

———