#all my head does is imagine them frolicking in fields as happy as ever

[phonification]

flushed suitloon pale nickloon and flushed bickel Please Just Hear Me Out.

[ctl-yuejie]

all of @howdydowdy‘s most loveliest tags for my fanfic, you are so wonderful i don’t know how i deserved the good luck to find you ;A;

1. #OH MY GOD!!!!!!!#it's here!! i'm gonna lose my whole entire mind!!!!!#well i hope everybody's ready for me to scream about every single installment as it comes out because this is the most important thing now#i didn't even know turnip!ah yuan was gonna be in it THIS IS THE BEST SURPRISE!!!!!#i feel so honored that my tags had anything to do with inspiring this incredible au but this is absolutely so much better#even in this short installment i'm getting such a good feel for the three characters who have made an appearance so far!#excited to see your lwj!!!#'the only thing his viewers enjoyed more than his content were the occasional take-downs Wen Qing was dishing out in the comment section'#ahahaha you are so funny#PLEASE EVERYONE LOOK AT THIS AMAZING FIC! I'M SO EXCITED FOR IT!!!!#i don't know all the things that are gonna happen but i have a general idea and guys it's such a good au#op is so creative and brilliant!!!#the untamed#ah yuan and his two dads will be the death of me#fic#these are a few of my favorite things

2. #second! installment!! time!!!#i feel like i'm a reader in dickensian london waiting for the new chapter to come out in the magazine#except there's less pollution and i don't have to put coal in an oven#why are those my associations with dickensian london? idk don't worry about it#jiang cheng makes an appearance! okay so i have never really understood him but i've been reading a LOT of fic#and i'm starting to get the picture i think#this is like...just the right amount ominous to get me super excited to see what happens next#WYD JC????#also wwx's characterization is just *chef's kiss*#<3 <3 <3 love u op you're too good to me#puns

3. #ohhhh shit everybody lwj is here! things are happening!!!!#i love all the sibling feels lxc gives me always#in every single fic i read he's like 'lwj i found another boy your age please be friends with him i love you so much'#oOoOoO the shoot will be four whole days i wonder what can happen in four days you guys...#like maybe...mister stoic guqin falling in love with disaster farmer man????#STAY TUNED#you know what just occurred to me is that lwj needs an emotion translator#i'm thinking like luther the anger translator for obama in those key & peele sketches#except it's just someone interpreting all of lwj's stoic faces#i mean lxc can read his faces so you'd think he could do it but idk if lxc himself is emotive enough#i'll have to think about it more

4. #this fic is the gift that keeps on giving#slowly introducing new characters...now we're meeting my sweet baby wen ning...i don't deserve this happiness...#also wei wuxian's carefree chaotic energy is just to die for#and what's this? jiang cheng appears on the horizon? narrowing his eyes at a tumbleweed that rolls across his path#his spurs jingling menacingly as he stalks ever closer?#hold on to yer hats cowboys i smell some Plot approaching#the untamed#fic#(okay also 'explosive arts & crafts projects' ahaha you are the best at these descriptions)

5. #oooooooo things are really coming together my dudes...#more jiang cheng content! okay he is really growing on me. grouch with a heart of gold. huge schemer. just wants to make fun of his BIL with#his brother but feels like he has to prioritize his ~responsibilities~#he loves wwx and understands what motivates him and at the same time just wants him to like. chill#the air quotes ahaha#that wwx makes them and that jc hates it#also i think my favorite image from this is the fact that one of the draws of the tv show is that all the cultivator hosts are handsome#which means that when lxc needed someone to cover for him he just went to the producers like#'no worries my little brother is also super hot so he should meet all your requirements'#'is he personable? no. does he speak in complete sentences? also no. but are the viewers gonna go batshit over his face? absofuckinlutely'#and the producers were like 'oh yeah dude say no more'#this is so fun i'm really enjoying these updates!!!

6. #not the city centre itself but a nearby mound#which sounds unusual and ominous#honey you got a big storm comin'#lwj is getting there early...oh fuck the suspense...#also 'either this is just how show business works or no one really knows what they are doing' why not both lwj??#ahaha i am cackling and steepling my fingers imagining how this is all gonna go down#babe i'm glad you decided not to give me spoilers because it is so fun watching things unfold

7. #i'm just imagining the perspective of the film crew showing up and it's a barren wasteland#they're like...wtf kind of establishing shots are we supposed to take of this??#don't worry guys the cutest child on the planet lives here. just get some footage of him frolicking in the turnip fields#the audience will lose their effing minds

8. #i love jc's logic like 'no one can find out about this or it'll be bad for the family. how to accomplish this? better get a film crew'#also i love how he's lowkey bitter that no one wants to interview him AHAHA jc you peach#and he's like 'maybe i'll watch the show. JUST TO MAKE FUN OF WWX FOR NO OTHER REASON'#wow i'm like becoming really fond of this character op!!!

9. #AHAHA love this image of lwj staring after nhs as he traipses down the street#'fancy birds? tf kinda innuendo is that??'#also lwj deciding to wear all white so that people won't approach him ahaha damn where is my equivalent outfit??#MATCHMAKER LXC STRIKES AGAIN!!!!!#did lxc even have to go out of town for real or was it all a setup to get lwj and wwx in the same place??#wouldn't put it past him tbh#lwj is so perfectly taciturn here i love it#and not just because he's not personable or something it's because he's having FEELINGS#also because wwx never shuts up lol#'he is doomed just like before because even this unknown wei wuxian he wants to be close to and find out who he is'#ughughguhgghhghhh how are you finding and pushing all my buttons???#hot DAMN i am HERE for this!!!

10. #i've now read this three times and i love it more every time!#you have such a way with words and i love how you're getting into wwx's head#it can be hard to relate to him with how dense he can be but you make it all seem incredibly plausible and realistic!!#i love him like 'wonder what it would be like to share a hotel room. it's totally normal that i'm thinking about this'#and like. you show how he got there in his thought process and it makes total sense!#also: lwj as eye candy YES EXACTLY#nhs is the perfect choice for a tv interior designer expert. that is SO what he would be doing in a universe with tv about interior design#okay and MOST IMPORTANTLY we have come to the part in the gifset!! this is the best crack that ever caught feels omg ilysm#demonic blood pool WEI YIIIIIIIING#wen ning being all yeah goth guys and blood pools two great tastes that taste great together#i love everything about this and it was so worth the wait. very excited for the next installment!!!

11. #you are LITCHRALLY killing me with this sharp characterization!! how are you nailing all their voices!!!!#nhs just in it for the hashtag drama that's so spot on omg. breaking all the rules HE wrote just so he can torture jc#all 'are you seeing this??? ARE YOU??' poor nhs and jc having to watch these two lovesick fools make googly eyes at each other#for YEARS and not REALIZE it well it's your lucky day mr. fan man because soon the whole world will see this UST and validate you#okay but what i love the most is jc the masochist being so uncomfortable he has to keep turning off the video ahahahaha#wangxian out here romancing so hard that jc needs a barf bag. or therapy. or selective amnesia.#you ever get secondhand mortifying ordeal of being known? that's what's happening for jc here#it's mortifying watching other people experience the ordeal of being known. this is the hardest i have ever related to jc#it's like oh fuck. lwj loves wwx and it's so obvious. oh my god. i'm so embarrassed.#wwx is so gone for lwj and it's right there on his face for anyone to read. i'm in agony.#ALSO 'jiang cheng can feel his head get hot and he drops the phone on the table like it personally betrayed him' THANK U FOR THIS#everything about this is the best and my favorite#ahhh i'm so excited for the next chapters and so glad they're already up so i can read them right now!!!!

12. #lxc shooting lwj pointed looks every time the jiang sect comes up in conversation for the past 13 years!!!!! he would!!!!!!#i love the way you describe wwx through lwj's eyes. the love just shines through#also you are so insightful about his character but what else is new??? you're the character breakdown QUEEN#OH MY GOD AH YUAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111111111#i am writing these tags as i read or that would have been the first tag it's SO important#i mean my tag isn't important it's incoherent but AH YUAN IS IMPORTANT!!!!!#you really want me to die. you really want me to be all the way murdered.#this image of lwj just standing there with impeccable posture one arm behind his back the other holding a sword in the air randomly#with this squirmy lil bab clutching at his clothes and reaching up on his tiptoes#okay dang i didn't know there was gonna be action! intrigue!! an ambush!!!#this fic really has it all#bamf!wwx and rescuer!lwj#battle couple ftw#NOT TO MENTION DRUNK!LWJ!!! SELF SACRIFICING!LWJ!!!!!#how am i supposed to live knowing lwj Did That#ughghughghgughgh#'at least i made him happy.' at least you made him happy???!?!?!?#just let me live for a second!!!#just one second though then i'm gonna read the next chapter

13. #awwww jiang 'I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU I'VE JUST BEEN CUTTING ONIONS' cheng gets a tear in his eye#they are...a fambly.....#my man lxc coming thru for the people!! title of my upcoming inspirational children's book: Lan Xichen Takes a Stand#op you made me love jiang cheng. i'm in it now

14. #omg i forgot that you had written this and sent it to me weeks ago so when i read it just now i was like...obviously that's what happened???#i had already just fully incorporated it into my understanding of these characters in my head and forgotten how it got there#so this was the BEST surprise#i can't believe you. putting ah yuan and bunnies in the same chapter because you love drowning me in cute#soft domestic adoptive dad content???? ugh i literally need to lie down and go into a coma.#just a lil coma. to recharge my feels.#i don't know what you could possibly be putting in the 'extra' but i am. vibrating with excitement!!!!#this is one of my favorite fics ever and i'm forever happy that you came up with this amazing idea and executed it so well#I APPRECIATE AND ADORE YOU!!!#HEART EYES EMOJI#these are a few of my favorite things#the untamed#ah yuan and his two dads will be the death of me

15. #OH MY GOD NHS MASTERMINDED ALL OF IT#this is so perfect i'm in awe!!!!#of course he did!!!!#also 'he had been very invested in this romance he had even painted themed fans for this' ahahaha#these schemes! these machinations!! he got lxc out of the way! he put the idea in jc's head! ahhhhh!#mr. fan man

[yarti]

[ Yarti / Snakestone / Fanar / Fannah ] - Wide Open Sea

Story below:

A thought occurred to me as I lay in bed this morning. My back against Snake's chest, a sheet tucked up under my chin, I stared toward the wardrobe side of the room. Just to the right of my head lay my little rudimentary garden. Some plants that the kids that bought for me as a gift some time ago. "Rare plants" from Morrowind, they were told but they were just weeds. I think I made mention of it in my journal at the time. I glanced toward those plants and the sun beaming through the rafters caught them in a particular way. I thought about fields of that grass. That though lead to another, the kids frolicking in that field. A warmer place. A little vacation. We already owed them a trip to Hammerfell once they were old enough for the journey, this would be but a taste. I thought to have Snake contact Darfin. We could go out to sea like we had done a few times in the past, then before returning to port, a slight detour to the east. It was summer, those lands would warm this time of year. The northwest coast of Morrowind. We could make landing, visit the closest town, just explore a little in the safety of a town. A much better idea than crossing the border on foot. The thought of going back that way made me sick at my stomach. It would be different if we were further north. I rolled over, intent to wake Snake and share my idea but he was already awake. Our eyes made contact, breath hastened. We had our time beneath the tousled sheets then I began my chores for the day, the passion of the morning wiping the idea from my mind.

Though as the morning went on, the thought slowly crept back into my mind, until I found myself subconsciously preparing for the trip. I had lined up a set of outfits for each of us and a full pack of supplies by the time I caught myself. I brought the news to Snake and the kids after breakfast and by midday, Snake had wrote to Darfin with the request. A few weeks passed, as expected. He was not an easy man to find. He could be at any coastal city from High Rock to far east of Morrowind. On another ordinary morning, a courier knocked at the door with our reply. By lunch of that day, we were already on carriage bound to Solitude.

We arrived in fair weather. The kids enjoyed the carriage ride. Every landmark was a new experience, no matter how many times we had passed through this way. From the carriage down to the dock, Fannah hummed the entire way. Once she spotted Darfin's boat she was ecstatic. She ran ahead and stood at the edge of the pier waving to him as he moved the boat into position. We gathered around her, trying our hardest to contain her outbursts before boarding. Snake, with outstretched arms called out to him. Wishing him goodmorning and asking how the trip had been. Darfin himself stood up on the upper level, a relaxed posture, guiding the ship as though it were an extension of himself. They spoke for some time before things were settled enough for us to cross over. The kids went first, never leaving my grip until they were safely footed. Then Snake, then myself by the grace of his strong hand.

And so we set out. The kids were none the wiser, they thought it just another fishing trip, a week at sea then a joyous return to Solitude, certainly followed by visits to the shops. They had already been discussing it in hushed voices. The detour would truly be a surprise. They found their favorite spot in front of the cookpot and waited for Darfin to get us out to sea so he could sit and tell them more of his fishy tales. Snake enjoyed his company just as much. He was really the closest thing to a father figure in his life, these little trips were prime bonding experiences for them and only served to strengthen an already strong friendship. On the wide open sea, Fanar peered over the side and down into the swirling depths. His eyes transfixed, darting back and forth at movement beneath us. Schools of fish and the like. Fannah joined him but hers was not of mere curiosity, she wanted to catch them. Her little fingers came tugging at the seams of Darfin's tunic, followed by her sweetest words and most pleading of expressions. Before long, he had disappeared into the cabin and returned with a handful of fishing rods and a tin of bait. He and Snake took to one side and cast into the abyss and in no time at all, dinner had came to us. Fannah stood at Snake's side the entire time, cheering him on and proclaiming that "Fanar would never be that good at fishing". She said it several times, always delivering a sharp glare in his direction as she said it. But this was their special trip and discipline would have to wait. Her words stung him, I could see his special day worsening by the minute and intervened. Fanar and I found a shady spot on the other side of the ship and stood together and talked. A few minutes of hugging, words of encouragement, and most importantly, combing of fingers through his hair, he soon calmed down and together we made way to the cookpot and started work on dinner. Snake, Darfin and Fannah celebrated the catch as Fanar and I tended to the meal. Darfin carried a variety of foreign spices, that and the assortment of fish they managed to catch made for an interesting enough meal. And so came sunset, bellies full, the kids exhausted everything of interest on the lower level and ascended the stairs to the upper deck. Darfin manned the wheel as they toyed with his navigational maps. I found myself in Snake's arms out on the bow of the ship. I held him until the sun above us waned, the signal to prepare the beds. Snake and I retreated to the cabin, laid out two bedrolls, and put fresh sheets on the actual bed. Fanar would have the bed if I had my way, but in all likelihood Fannah would demand it as soon as she saw it. Anticipating as much, I took great care in making the bedrolls as comfortable as possible. The job done, I cracked open the door and called the kids to bed. Fannah dove into the bed screeching “Mine!” as Fanar sulked toward the bedroll in the corner. Shuffling his sheets and pillow, he discovered a candy I had hidden for him. His rare smile was a welcome thing. Darfin had lent us the cabin for the duration of the trip. He would hold watch on the upper deck and sleep under the moonlight. The next few days repeated much the same as we made good time eastward. A fair bit away from the coast, but not far enough north to run into ice flow. We kept the kids occupied as best we could. When they asked where we were, we would give them a location far west of actuality. As far as they knew, we were already en-route back to Solitude on those the last few days of the journey. Thinking Solitude on the horizon, Fannah’s attitude began it’s inevitable shift. Out of her arose her best behavior, so she could have her choice at the shops. We knew her tricks all too well. The kids got along well from that point onward. Lending to that, the decks and ocean itself had grown quite boring. Toward the end, they spent most of their time indoors, making up games or rummaging through Darfin’s things. 

The big day. The kids rose before us and scampered about the room. After a small cold breakfast, I unlocked the door so they could dash out to the deck, expecting to see Solitude in the distance. Much to their surprise, they instead saw sheer cliffs topped with mushrooms, taller than any building they had ever seen. Their eyes grew wide, mouth agape. You would think they had woken into a dream land. Fanar, the more studious of the twins put two and two together and asked why we were in Morrowind. "I thought you would like to see it" I said, again brushing his hair. My eyes narrowed, lifting my arm I pointed out into the distance. "Does that grass look familiar?" He shook his head then darted off. The two of them threw themselves against the railing of the starboard side, taking in as much of the view as they could muster. Far off, we spotted a small coastal town. Massive fungal pods dotted a dreary dirt path through the town center. Off to one end lie a boarding platform of some sort, intended for some beast of travel I imagined. Darfin knew the town well and assured us we could find a room to rent for a few days if we so wanted. We pulled alongside the dock and disembarked. The happy family stood in a line just off of the dock, peering out into strange lands.

[honeylikewords]

window shopping (joe teague)

(gif source)

(hi guys!! sorry i haven’t been around for a bit- i’ve been really busy! but i promise lots of fun posts very soon!! i have more for the beauty and the beast au, and i have a few shane things coming up!! feel free to send requests- i think i’m all out!! anyway, here’s a piece for joe teague from mob city, which i’m OBSESSED with and that i’ve gotten my friend luce into watching!! i hope you all enjoy!)

(warnings: none!)

(written mostly for @doct0rstrange <3)

Dickinson's Department Store. It's a small but old-enough-to-have-a-legacy shop that Joe passes every morning on his way to work. He parks a couple blocks from the station (because the streets of LA fill up ridiculously fast) and every single morning, without fail, he walks by the storefront window of Dickinson's Department Store. Likewise, every single morning, without fail, he finds himself engrossed in the window dressings.

They're always fantastic and detailed, articulated down to the most minute element. He remembers the Easter display they had, and how he'd actually stopped to stare for a few moments.

There had been countless stuffed bunnies posed ever-so-gently, frolicking in shockingly realistic fields of synthetic green grass. A handpainted background of rolling hills and a bright blue sky had been hung up, framing little tea tables decorated with Fabergé eggs on delicate stands, the tabletops covered in elegant paint palettes and brushes in crystal vases to simulate some garden party of Easter egg decorators. Joe half-believed that any moment, someone would return to their tables to finish their fragile artworks, and he'd found himself smiling.

Every day it was something new, something different, and it never ceased to amaze Joe that somewhere, someone was planning out a brand new, unfathomably detailed setting to create in that six foot long, five foot tall, and three foot deep glass box.

Today's window dressing has mannequins, something Joe has noticed is a little rare in these particular windows. Every other storefront in LA has big, plastic mannequins dressed in the shop's finest, but not Dickinson's, even though they sell clothes, too. He pauses and surveys the window, curious.

There are two mannequins, one at either end of the window. One is a model of a woman, the other a male model. They face one another, but are separated by the entire length of the window. They are dressed surprisingly simply- the man in an everyday suit and tie (it strangely reminds Joe of his own suits), and the woman in a straightforward blue dress. Between them are stacks of suitcases piled into a somewhat pyramid-like shape, and some of them are opened, revealing bursts of flowers, clustered together and popping up out of these pieces of luggage.

There's something subtly longing about the mannequins, Joe thinks. Their eyes, though vacant, are fixed on one another's faces, and there's even a slight positioning of their arms so that their hands just barely seem to be reaching toward the person they gaze upon.

Joe is entranced, his eyes scanning over every tiny inclusion in the scene, but he snaps himself out of it when he hears a distant police siren. He's gotta get to work. With something close to apprehension, he turns on his heel and heads to the station, mind turning over the various tasks on his list he'll need to get done. Still, throughout his day, he finds himself wondering about Dickinson's.

He ends up having a late night at the office. Some joker on the force went and shot a suspect in custody, so Joe had to work through a metric ton of paperwork. By the time he's done, it's edging into one o'clock and he's exhausted.

The walk back to his car is mostly uneventful- all the shops are closed, their lights hushed to silence and their windows shuttered. But as he steps into view of Dickinson's, he sees that the lights are still singing and the door is slightly ajar.

As he rounds the corner, he can see a woman standing in the window. By now, the suitcases are long gone and the mannequins dismissed, and she is hovering in the little glass box, a pencil behind her ear as she pores over a legal pad in her hands. There's a new background hanging- what appears to be an ocean full of sailboats with bright nautical regalia, their colors flying high. Next to the woman's feet are countless paper birds- seagulls, Joe identifies- and a life preserver that seems surprisingly weathered (might it be real?). But more than the set, Joe finds himself admiring the woman in the window.

Her hair is tucked up messily, flyaways branching out around her face like a halo, and the warm store lights catch the shape of her face in such a pleasant way that she seems like she's glowing, even as her brow is furrowed in concentration. She taps the eraser of her pencil against her lips and bites them gently, staring at the notes that she holds, and Joe feels a surprising rush of butterflies in his stomach. She's beautiful.

He realizes he's staring when she looks up from her legal pad and meets his eye, jumping a bit at his presence. Joe puts his hands up to show that he means no harm, flashing his crooked smile at her. She puts a hand to her chest, miming a heart attack but smiling a little, too.

On impulse, and without really thinking, Joe steps through the open door. She's even more beautiful without the glass divider. She has a little apron on, tied around her waist, the pockets of which are full of pencils, rulers, measuring tapes, scissors- an entire entourage of tools. She steps down from the window and dusts her hands on her apron, and Joe thinks that she looks like the most darlingly domestic person on the face of God's good earth.

"Hi," he says. "I'm Joe. Teague. Joe Teague."

"Hello there, Joe Teague," she replies, smiling. "Can I help you?"

"Are you the, uh, person who does all-" -he gestures loosely at the window, somehow hoping that the movement conveys his meaning- "-This?"

"The window dressing?"

"Yes, that, exactly that." He feels like he's choking on his own words. Real smooth, Teague.

"I do, actually. That's my job: professional window dresser." She seems a bit sheepish, smiling down at her feet and shuffling the toes of her shoes on the carpet that covers the entrance to Dickinson's. "It's not much, but I like it."

"Are you the only one who does 'em?"

"I am, yes."

"Are you- are you serious?" Joe is shocked. All that work, all that detail, all that effort comes from just one woman?

"Um, yes? I'm the only set dresser at Dickinson's, as far as I know."

"Wow. It's just- they're so- I mean, I can't believe- they're very beautiful," he finally manages. She giggles at his stumbling, and for some reason, it makes him feel like the most wonderfully lucky man in the world. "I can tell you put a lot into 'em."

"Well, thank you. That's the first time anyone's ever stopped me to say that."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Not a lot of people see the window dressers, you know. They only see the dressings. Of course, I mean, that's how it ought to be- it's about the sets, not about me. But I do really appreciate it, Mister Teague."

"Joe, please," he mumbles, shyly smiling. Something about her makes him shy all over again.

She smiles back at him, and he's momentarily oblivious to his surroundings. It doesn't matter that he's in a closed department store at one in the goddamn morning, gawking at a girl he's only just met- he's happy.

"Well, Mister- um, Joe," corrects the woman, fidgeting with the pencil behind her ear in the most adorable way, "I better get back to the windows. They don't dress themselves. They're a bit like kids, that way."

He laughs at her little joke and she grins at him, the warmth between them increasing by the minute. He's tired from the day, yes, but being in here and having a conversation this nice reinvigorates him. For a moment, he hovers, unsure of what he should do until she begins walking up to the window again.

"Do you need help?" The question leaves his lips before he even knows what he means by it. She turns, looking over her shoulder at him, then gives him a curious, enchanting look.

"Um, alright," she smiles. "Come on up."

She extends her hand and takes his, pulling him up into the box of the window. It's smaller and larger than he imagined, and it's certainly a bit of a squeeze to have a man as big as him in there alongside another person. He tightens his shoulders and gives her a goofy smile as she hands him a seagull, giggling to herself a bit.

"They have a little fishing wire on them," she says, pointing at the place where the invisible thread is. "Hang them so that they look like they're flying."

The two of them work together to finish the window, speaking softly and exchanging shy but bright smiles when they accidentally bump into one another or end up caught in a tight squeeze, face to face as they try to brush past the other in the condensed space.

The time flies by, and soon enough, the display is finished. A boat made from old books stacked to make the hull sails on a sea of bright blue kerchiefs and scarves, little white gloves popping up here and there to simulate seafoam. The birds dangle in convincingly lifelike positions, swaying gently every time the two of them stir up even a slight breeze.

Joe glances over at his compatriot and smiles, watching her survey her work. There's a bit of pride on her face, but also consternation- she squints at the window and leans in as if displeased.

"Do you think I put enough curve in the sail? It looks a little-" "It looks perfect to me," Joe interjects. She looks over at him with a soft expression, somehow surprised that he's impressed with their work.

"It's nearly three in the morning," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Lady like you needs her sleep."

"And an officer like you needs his," she replies.

But neither wants to move. They stand in momentary stasis, smiling at one another and hoping that they don't have to be the one who breaks the beautiful bubble they currently reside in.

Joe looks over her face and decides to be brave, to be bold. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his memo pad, scrawling his number and name on it.

"If you, erm, ever want someone to swing by at an ungodly hour and help you dress a window," he chuckles, "Gimme a call."

"And what if I'd like to go to dinner? Would this same number be alright to call?"

He blinks in surprise. She's beaming at him, blushing a bit, and he's utterly endeared. He grins and nods, laughing a little.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think that this would be a real good number to call if you want to get taken out to dinner."

"I'll make sure to call, then."

She pockets the number, then taps his chest with her finger.

"Pad, please."

He hastily produces it and watches her write out her number in the prettiest handwriting he thinks he's ever seen. She signs her name and even puts a little heart at the end of it, then hands the pad back to him. Their fingers brush in the exchange, and Joe feels electricity run through him.

"I expect you to call and ask me about my plans for the next window," she grins.

"I'll make sure to call," he parrots.

They only part ways when Joe sees her begin to stifle a yawn and he smiles at her, heart full.

"Get some sleep, doll."

At the term of endearment her eyes brighten and she blushes a bright pink, one so sweet he thinks he'll have a cavity when he wakes up. Joe smiles and reaches out, squeezing her hand.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Joe."

For the rest of the night, as he drives home, Joe wonders how soon he'll be able to call her without looking like a lovestruck puppy. He wonders if seven am is too early. He grins all the way home.

[dontbeallupinmyfriesdawg]

The Allure of Darkness

Prompt: I just love the myth of Persephone, I mean the real, original version of it, because it’s not like she got kidnapped, no, this bitch was la-de-da-ing in a meadow and she just happened to find an entrance to the Underworld and she was like “Imma check this out”. And she just wanders into the Underworld and discovers that hey this place ain’t too bad.

Meanwhile, Hades is in the background “????? UM??? PRETTY GIRL??? WHY ARE YOU HERE?????? YOU AREN’T DEAD???”

And Persephone (who was originally called Kore just a little FYI) just looked at him and said “I like it here. I’m staying.”

Based off of this post.

A/N: Because I saw this and had to write it. Also, I’ve always wanted to do a Hades and Persephone AU. Really crack, I’m so sorry.

No beta.

For @wavesofjoyy

Caroline lay sprawled out on the meadow, staring forlornly up at the clouds and she fisted at the blades of grass beneath. She had honestly, never been more bored in her life. Perhaps Bonnie and Elena were content to frolick around aimlessly without a care in the world of a thought in their heads but Caroline was not. Was it wrong to wish to see something other than blue skies and endless patches of flowers, literally everywhere? Caroline’s mother had always warned her that her sense of adventure would get her into trouble but why on earth should the Hercules have all the fun?

She sighed and stood to her feet. As she looked down she realised that she’d been lying in the same spot for so long she’d left an imprint in the grass. Caroline began wandering aimlessly, hoping in vain that something interesting would happen, when suddenly something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. A flower blood red and by far the most exotic Caroline had ever seen. And as the Goddess of vegetation, she’d seen pretty much all of them.

She sunk to her knees and ducked down in order to examine it. Admiring the shape of the leaves and the tiny flecks of colour inside the nectary. Caroline decided immediately that it was far too beautiful for her to just leave it there and not take it with her. She’d pick it and show it to her friends, so they could ooh and ah at it and then she’d bring it home and tend to it in her own personal garden. Despite the fact that she could practically hear her mother’s voice warning her away from going near strange, foreign things she wasn’t certain of; Caroline reached out her hands to pick the flower from the dirt.

All at once there was a rumbling sound from beneath her. By the time Caroline felt the ground give away under her weight it was too late to do anything to stop it. She fell and kept falling for a very long time. Oddly enough she didn’t feel an ounce of fear as she made her descent, rather a sense of gratitude that the old Gods had heard her petition for excitement in her life.

When she woke up, instead of grass beneath her feet Caroline realised she was lying on very plush, expensive carpet in a very long corridor. Curiosity immediately took a hold of her and she got up and began to explore, without once questioning the strangeness of the situation. The house she had ended up in wasn’t a house at all. It was more like a mansion, obviously owned by someone important - or at least someone extremely rich. Every room she walked into was more grandiose than the next, each one decorated with lavish furniture and artwork. The decor wasn’t exactly to Caroline’s taste, far too gothic. However, the owner obviously had style and she could appreciate their vision, although there was one of two things she would change had she been put in charge.

Eventually, she found her way outside. What appeared to be the entrance of the house led out to a large garden which was equally as luxurious as the house, although there were no flowers or anything growing from the earth save for a single pomegranate tree right at the back. In the centre of the gardens was a fountain that appeared to be producing some sort of gold, metallic liquid instead of water. She was just about to reach out and touch it when…

“Who are you?”

Caroline screeched and jumped three feet in the air. She turned around and came face to face with perhaps the most sinfully handsome man she’d ever seen. The man wore all black and was tall and lean but still muscular. His sand coloured hair rested in little cherub curls on his forehead, his lips were full and red and made Caroline flush in embarrassment thinking about what they would feel like against her skin. What truly captivated her, though, were his eyes; dark, intense and trained on her as she gaped at him like an idiot.

“I- I’m sorry, I… I don’t…”

Caroline felt her entire body heat as the man drew closer toward her.

“One minute I was in the meadow and now I’m- well… here,” Caroline tilted her head and frowned.

“Where exactly is here?”

The man’s obscenely red lips were pulled into a smirk as he took another step forward.

“The underworld sweetheart,”

“The what!?” she exclaimed, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

“The underworld, as in-?”

“Hell? Perdition? Hades? Yes,” The man replied casually, his handsome features growing increasingly more amused at Caroline’s distress.

Oh, this was bad. This was very bad. Caroline could only imagine her mother’s rage when she found out that her only daughter was not only missing but in the lair of satan himself. Speaking of which…

“Wait does that mean that you're …”

Instead of offering a reply, the gorgeous man’s lips stretched into a full smile, causing his sharp dimples to cut into his stubble covered cheeks; which only served to make even more, (unfairly) attractive.

Caroline fell silent, attempting to process the new information he’d just been given.

“Tell me, sweetheart-” he said breaking into the quiet that had settled between them.

“-Caroline,” she interjected.

“Caroline,” he purred, her name rolling off his lips in a way that made her shudder.

“-You’re not dead,”

“Well obviously,” she bluntly, before biting her tongue; remembering that she was addressing the all-powerful ruler of the underworld. A man feared, revered and most definitely not to be trifled with, from what she’d heard.

Luckily for her, he seemed entertained by her sudden outburst and continued.

“-So, how is it that you found your lovely self, here in my realm?” he asked circling around her in a predatory fashion.

Caroline narrowed her eyes at him.

“Maybe you should tell me your name first,” she countered, not missing the way his eyes were greedily roaming her form.

“My name is Klaus,” he responded “But of course I am better known by my other title,”

Caroline nodded.

“Well… Klaus, as I said; one minute I was in the middle of a field and there was a flower and-”

“-Ah, of course,”

“Excuse me?” Caroline blinked.

“The flower you speak of, I’ve been meaning to close that particular portal up for while now. I’ll have to set Kol to the task a soon as possible,”

“I’m sorry, what portal?” Caroline asked, shaking her head in confusion.

“It matters not,” Klaus said, brushing aside the issue.

“Since you are most certainly not dead,” he hummed, giving her body another appreciative once over. “I’m sure we can arrange to have you transported up to the surface in-”

“No,”

“Beg pardon?”

“What if I don’t want to go back up to the surface?”

Now it was Klaus turn to stare at her in disbelief.

“I’m not sure I follow love,”

“I like it here, I think I’ll stay,” she said walking around him, back towards the fountain.

Klaus stood rooted to the spot watching her incredulously.

“I mean, at least for the time being,” Caroline said. “I need a vacation,”

Klaus took a deep breath and walked over to her.

“Caroline I’m afraid-”

“-Please? you have no idea how boring it is on the surface,” she asked beseechingly.

“Oh I have an idea love, but still -”

“Please, couldn’t you take some time out of your busy schedule and give me a little tour of the place?” Caroline pleaded, literally batting her eyelashes at him.

Of course, she’d already done her fair share of exploring but what Klaus didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Klaus expelled a deep sigh and Caroline could see his resolved melting as she flashed him one of her winning smiles.

Her mother would not be happy about this, she mused. However, watching that smirk reappear on Klaus’ handsome face made it very it difficult for Caroline to bring herself to care.

“THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE ELIJAH. DO YOU HEAR ME!? I WON’T HAVE IT”

Elijah pinched his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Elizabeth, ple-”

“DON’T YOU ELIZABETH ME!” Liz screeched, pacing back and forth in front of him. “This is my daughter!? That… man has my daughter captive-”

“-That man,” Elijah interjected “Is my brother, if you care to remember,”

Liz whirled around to glare at him.

“Well. Exactly.” she snapped. “Talk some sense into him. Deal with things and quickly before I take matters into my own hands. Believe me, Elijah you won’t like it if I do”

Without waiting for an answer Liz turned and stormed out of the room. Steam literally billowing from her ears as she did. Moments lately Rebekah walked into the room, regarding her brother with a curious expression.

She gestured toward the doorway of the palace.

“What the bloody hell was all that about?!”

Elijah turned to her and sighed.

“It appears our brother has gotten himself into yet another unholy mess once again, thus leaving yours truly to clean up after him,”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Rebekah asked.

“As you know, it takes a long time negotiate access to the underworld without a portal and Nikklaus has removed nearly all of them out of spite following our recent altercation.”

“But as soon as I am able to get down there I will do my duty as administrator of justice and exact it accordingly,”

Rebekah chuckled to herself.

“Has something amused you, sister?” Elijah asked looking at her seriously.

“Oh nothing, it just that whole ‘administrator of justice thing always tickles me,”

“And why would that be?” Elijah huffed indignantly.

“Well you have to admit it’s sort of ironic considering all the things you’ve gotten up to,”

Elijah looked as if he were about to protest when a shrill voice rang through the throne room.

“Elijah!” Katherine, Elijah’s-not-quite-wife-not-quite-mistress called out. “I’m bored and you know exactly what happens when I’m bored. Entertain me!” she demanded

Elijah grimaced, avoiding looking at the smug look on Rebekah’s face.

Caroline’s stay in hades had extended way past Klaus expectations. He had no idea how he’d allowed things to get so out of hand. All he knew was that pretty Caroline had a smile that rivalled the sun and it was incredibly hard to say no to her. Hence why her afternoon visit had stretched into several weeks. Hence why Klaus had allowed his home to be turned upside down because Caroline insisted it was in need of ‘renovation’ and needed more colour because it was far too ‘unwelcoming’.

It was Hades??? And he was the fearsome Lord of the underworld. Unwelcoming was the look he was going for. If he wanted people flocking at his gates he’d put a big neon sign up and set up a concession stand that sold keyrings. 

Caroline had brushed off his obvious lack of enthusiasm as ‘grumpiness’ and ploughed on with her plans. What’s more, Caroline had managed to put the fear of Zeus into every man and women in his employ, to such an extent that they were more afraid of upsetting her than they were of him. Which was something that he found to be both irritating and impressive, simultaneously.

Despite his own personality clashing heavily with Caroline’s constant cheerful disposition and never ending optimism, Klaus had reached the disturbing revelation that he was falling head over heels in love with her. After all, she was strong, beautiful, intelligent and he’d been captivated by her since the moment he spotted her flitting around the gardens. Everywhere she went this inexplicable light seemed to follow her. Even a small patch of land in the courtyard had started to grow flowers since her arrival. The look on Caroline’s face when she’d seen the first shoots had warmed his cold, dead heart and made his stomach flip in a way that it hadn’t done so in years.

It was infuriating really. Klaus deeply resented being enslaved to his emotions like some sort of desperate teenage boy. Every day he’d wake from sleep wondering if today would be the day that Caroline decided to put an end to her little vacation in the underworld and return back home to the surface. Every time he looked at her he was filled with self-loathing because he was a bitter, jaded and damaged soul, who was nowhere near good enough for someone as magnificent as Caroline. No matter how desperately he felt every inch of his being craving her.

Several weeks into her stay Caroline had insisted on throwing a party at the mansion for all the residents of the underworld. Of course he had adamantly protested and as usual, she had adamantly ignored him. In his head, Klaus interpreted that Caroline’s sudden desire for festivities meant that she was planning to break the news of her departure to him. Because of this, Klaus spent the entire evening hidden away in the shadows, sullen and depressed, refusing to speak to anyone and glaring at any fool who dared to make contact with him.

True to form, Caroline tore herself away from playing the perfect hostess and sought him out in the crowd as soon as she got the chance.

“You missed the cake,” she said accusingly, striding toward him in a dazzling figure-hugging gown, that looked as if it were painted on her.

“You look stunning, sweetheart,” he murmured, giving her a heated look.

“Don’t change the subject,” she smiled handing him a champagne glass.

“You’ve been avoiding me all night. Marcel says you’ve been even more irritable than usual today,”

Klaus sighed and shook his head.

“I’m fine Caroline,” he said stiffly, turning away from her. “Go back to enjoying the party.”

Caroline was quiet for a long time and for a moment he thought she’d taken him at his word and left. But all of a sudden he felt one of her small gentle hands slide it’s way into his.

“I’m here,” she said, almost so softly that he barely caught it over the noise of the party.

“I stayed Klaus. I stayed for you. Don’t you see that?”

He turned finally turned to look at her, his eyes wide and disbelieving. He opened his mouth to speak but Caroline pressed her fingers to his lips to stop him.

“I think you should kiss me,” she whispered. When he didn’t move Caroline wound her arms around his neck and pressed her heated body against his.

“Do you want to kiss me?” she asked.

“Yes,” Klaus growled, his voice low and husky. “Very much so,”

Slowly, he leant down and cupped Caroline’s face in his hands and gently brushed his lips against hers. Caroline mewled pulling him down closer to her and seeking entrance to his mouth with her tongue. Moaning as he responded to her; deepening the kiss and resting his hand on the small of her back.

He smiled at the small whine of protest she let out once he pulled away.

“You realise I’m incapable of letting you go now,” he said, gently nuzzling her temple.

Caroline smiled

“I’m well aware”.

Klaus stretched and let out a contented sigh as he stirred from sleep. Immediately he grinned feeling Caroline’s naked body on top of his as she pressed gentle kisses down the column of his throat. Three blissful months of waking up with her in his bed next to him and he still couldn’t believe his luck. He doubted he’d ever get used to the idea that Caroline was his, that she’d chosen him and that he’d spend the rest of his days waking up the smell of lavender and vanilla and the heat of Caroline’s smooth skin against his own.

“Morning sweetheart,”

“Good morning,” 

Klaus let out a sharp groan as he felt Caroline’s hand wander under the waistband of his undergarments.

“Wicked minx,” he hissed, arching into her touch.

“Was that a complaint?” Caroline giggled, lazily stroking her hand up and down his length as she leant down for a slow drugging kiss. Klaus sighed into it, rubbing circles into Caroline’s skin with his thumbs.

Suddenly there was a loud cracking noise and the whole mansion began to shake.

“Klaus, what’s happening?” Caroline gasped.

He let out an inhuman noise and let his head lull back in frustration, as Caroline removed her hand from his member to steady herself.

“Klaus?” she repeated uncertainly as another tremor occurred.

“It appears we have company sweetheart,” he grumbled. “You might want to get dressed.”

Sure enough, when they emerged from the bedroom there was a man waiting for them outside the door. He had a regal air about him and his face was oddly familiar…

“Elijah,” Klaus said stiffly. “To what do I owe the pleasure,”

“I did not travel all this way for pleasantries Nikklaus, release the girl and I will be out of your hair,”

“Release!?” Caroline and Klaus said at the same time.

Klaus chuckled.

“You think I’m imprisoning her Elijah? Nice to know what a high opinion my brother has of me,”

Before Elijah could respond there was another cracking noise and Liz appeared before them looking infuriated.

“Mom!?” Caroline exclaimed.

“What’s happening Elijah!?” Liz demanded. “Paralyse him quickly so Caroline and I can-”

“Uh hello, mom? Hi, yeah I’m not sure what’s going here but if you guys are here staging some sort of rescue mission don’t bother. Klaus isn’t keeping me here against my will. I love him.”

“- Enough. Don’t be ridiculous, Koreoline. This has gone on long enough. Take my hand and return to the surface with me.”

Caroline winced.

“You know I hate when you call me that.” she said glaring in her mother’s direction.

“Is that why you gave me that name so you could spend the rest of my life treating me like a little girl?”

“How dare you!” Liz shouted, “I am your mother-”

“-Yes, but I’m an adult and you can’t stop me from staying here if that’s what I want,” Caroline insisted.

Liz’s eyes bugged out of her head and she turned to look at Elijah.

“DO SOMETHING!” she demanded.

He shook his head.

“Elizabeth I’m, sorry you sent me here on the grounds that Caroline was being held against her will. Since it is quite apparent that she is not-”

Before he could finish Liz let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead (literally) and disappeared that the same way she came.

Klaus looked down and pulled Caroline against him and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You can go after her you know,”

Caroline shook her head and buried her face into his chest.

“No, I think I need to give her some time to cool off first,” she explained. “She’ll come around eventually I know it,”

Klaus wasn’t so certain of that fact but didn’t say as much to Caroline. Instead, he lifted his head to glare reproachfully at Elijah who was staring at the two them with curiosity.

“Is there something you wanted Elijah?” Klaus asked coolly.

Elijah shook his head and fixed Caroline with a hard stare.

“Koreoline indeed,” he muttered. “I think Persephone would be far more suitable,”

In a second he too was gone, leaving her and Klaus alone outside of their bedroom.

Caroline’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“What did he just call me?” she asked.

Klaus smirked.

“Persephone. It means the one who brings chaos,”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the adorable pout that formed on her face.

[spooky-ghostwriter]

Dressed to Kill - Chapter Nine

<– Previous Chapter

Next Chapter –>

Tsukiko parted the curtains of her trailer window. It had been a full day's drive around Lake Erie. All of the driving had been done by non-performer employees – particularly those with the drivers' licenses that Tsukiko herself lacked – so from her perspective, it had been a fairly uneventful period. Still, despite not having any of the stress that she imagined came with driving around trailers full of ghost lions and elephants, she was happy to see that they'd arrived at their destination.

Tsukiko hadn't considered it at first, but in retrospect, it had been incredibly obvious – circus performers' trailers were not large. Her new bed was smaller than she was used to and even it took up a good third of her available space.

Still, her trailer had felt empty. Her bedroom at her parents' house had had Gary's enclosure as a centerpiece, but now Tsukiko's snake was in the care of Pierre and his crew. The props and costumes that had once littered her room's floor were now in storage somewhere. Tsukiko had to admit, they were likely more organized than she'd ever kept them.

And so, Tsukiko's trailer contained only a bed and a mini-fridge; both of which were already in the trailer when she'd walked in. She made a mental note to see how Galen was using his trailer's space and copy it.

As she sat on her bed, imagining the walls covered in posters, there was a knock at the door.

Oh, speak of the devil, Tsukiko thought.

She pushed open the door. As the thought was still on her mind, she greeted her visitor with a question. “Hey Galen, would it be weird to put a picture of Gary on my wall?”

Vercingetorix blinked.

“Oh, you're not Galen,” Tsukiko realized.

“Indeed I am not,” Vercingetorix confirmed. “Gary is your snake, right?”

“...Yes,” Tsukiko admitted.

“You're free to do whatever you want with your trailer, as long as we can still move it from city to city,” Vercingetorix explained. “Most performers here decorate their trailers with mementos from their favourite or most important shows.”

Suddenly remembering the reason he was there, Vercingetorix opened the briefcase he was holding. It was the very same metal briefcase that Vercingetorix had held the Tank Top in. For a moment, Tsukiko was breathless – she imagined the wonders of a second Religalia that Vercingetorix might give to her.

“I have the schedule for this week's shows.” Vercingetorix passed a stapled set of papers to Tsukiko. “You'll be performing one show a day.”

“O-okay...”

“Is something the matter?” Vercingetorix asked. “If you're worried about having fewer shows than the other performers, that's just because you're new. Once you're used to the routine, we'll bring you up to an alternating schedule of two shows one day, one show the next.”

“No, it's not that,” Tsukiko tossed the schedule onto her bed. “It's just that...” She scratched the back of her head, trying to word her question appropriately. “Is the schedule really the most important thing right now?”

“Of course!” Vercingetorix said, sounding affronted. “One cannot have a circus without some semblance of order.”

“What about the plant monsters?”

“Dryads.”

“Whatever. What are we doing about them?”

“It's a little cool for dryads this morning,” Vercingetorix said, looking up to the overcast. “I don't think they'll be a problem.”

“You don't think – ” Tsukiko stammered. She sighed. “Okay. Fine. I don't want to fight any plant monsters anyway. But can you at least show me the other Religalia?”

Vercingetorix nodded to himself. “I suppose. Meet me at Stage 1 during Pierre's show. I'll make some time.”

Stage 1 was the largest of the four. The tent around it stood almost 40 feet in the air; it was the beacon that attracted people to the circus as a whole. Two towers of scaffolding held the tent in place, with a large 'Alesia Circus' logo between them. The stage covered most of the available space, with seating for over 700. Tsukiko would have loved to watch Pierre lead his ghost lions around – or, for that matter, to perform on the stage herself. Instead, she stood backstage, awaiting Vercingetorix.

Still, even if the sights and sounds eluded her, the smells and tastes were up for grabs. Tsukiko passed the time by shoveling caramel corn into her mouth as fast as her unfortunate need to chew and swallow would allow.

Finally, a few handfuls into her third bag, Vercingetorix stepped out of the Stage 1 tent.

“Ah, there you are,” Vercingetorix said, noticing her.

Tsukiko swallowed two cheeks' worth of caramel corn.

“Free circus food is one of the greatest perks of working here, wouldn't you say?” Vercingetorix asked.

“This is the best caramel corn I've ever eaten!” Tsukiko said, pointing ecstatically at the few kernels remaining. “What's your secret?”

“It's not something that should be disclosed to the public,” Vercingetorix said, his voice suddenly low and ominous. “But, sufficed to say, dryads come in many shapes and sizes.”

Tsukiko pictured five ears of corn stacking together to create a behemoth, just as the pumpkins had. With no emotion on her face, she dropped her current handful of kernels back into the bag.

“I'm joking,” Vercingetorix said with a smirk. “I don't know what the secret is. And, just like I won't ask how you perform any of your magic tricks, I won't ask our chef how he makes his caramel corn.”

Tsukiko tentatively ate another kernel, but her eyes narrowed in a suspicious glare.

“Now, onto the Religalia,” Vercingetorix said, unlocking his briefcase.

A shiver of eagerness crept up Tsukiko's entire body. The Tank Top had caught her attention even before it transformed into a mobile cannon. She remembered the strange allure it had; some glimmer of specialness emanating from every stitch.

As Vercingetorix reached into the briefcase, she stared at it in anticipation. Finally, he pulled out his hand.

Tsukiko felt her eyes widen.

Vercingetorix held a woolen sweater. It was a garish pink, with a needlessly bright yellow 'J' knitted on the chest. On its sleeves were flame designs that graduated from the same yellow of the 'J' to a bloody crimson.

It was hideous.

“This is the Jumper,” Vercingetorix introduced. “The second Religalia I'd like you to try.”

Tsukiko said nothing, and decided it best to hide her expressions behind a final handful of caramel corn.

“Now,” Vercingetorix continued, oblivious to Tsukiko's pained reaction. “To truly master a Religalia, you must be able to believe in it, no matter how impossible its abilities seem. Think of it like an actor being fully immersed in their role. To get the greatest performance, the actor must believe that they are the character they are trying to represent.”

“Are you sure? I had no idea what the Tank Top would do.”

“Precisely,” said Vercingetorix. “At the moment you activated the Tank Top, your mind was full of desperation, not doubt. You didn't know what the Tank Top would do, but you believed it would do something to save yourself, Galen, and your audience. And no matter how impossible that sounds, you believed it.”

Once again, Tsukiko didn't know how to respond to this. What he said was true, but she couldn't help but feel that he was calling her naive.

“I truly respect that conviction in the impossible,” said Vercingetorix. “The Tank Top is, in fact, one of the hardest Religalia to master. Most people don't believe it can transform into a tank.”

“Even after they see it happen?” Tsukiko asked.

“One's eyes can be deceived. You, of all people, should know that.”

“Well sure, but after fighting living pumpkins, what else is there for people to think is impossible?” Tsukiko asked.

“That is exactly the attitude I was hoping for from you,” said Vercingetorix. He passed Tsukiko the ugly sweater. “That's why I'm not going to try to trick you with this Religalia. I will tell you exactly what the Jumper does, and hopefully, you won't doubt it for an instant.”

Tsukiko turned the garment over in her hands. The back side had another knitted fireball and was no less ugly than the front.

“Try me.”

Galen made his way through the field reserved for Pierre's animals. An L-shaped tent lined one corner, housing the enclosures of a few small animals. As he passed through it, he stopped at the tank that now housed Gary. The snake was coiled under a hollowed rock, but he poked his head out as Galen approached. Gary flicked his tongue up in greeting.

“Hey, buddy,” Galen said softly. “Sorry, I don't have time to play right now. I have to help wash the elephant.”

He was relatively sure that Gary didn't understand what he said, but the python seemed to relax and stretched itself out under its heat lamp.

Along the way, Galen rested his arms on the railing surrounding Pierre's alligator pit. Some shows involved Pierre or an assistant sticking their head in the largest alligator's open jaws. Now, the three of them looked no more dangerous than Gary. In fact, they were stretched out under a bright heat lamp just as Gary was.

Before he could enjoy the view too much, a monkey jumped onto him and grabbed the back of his head. Galen recoiled as the monkey began to howl; he wondered just how much force he could use to remove it without causing it any harm.

While flailing, Galen turned; Pierre was standing a few feet behind him.

Pierre snapped his fingers; the monkey bounced off Galen's head and ran up to sit on Pierre's shoulders.

“Th-thanks,” Galen said, breathlessly. “I don't know what got into that monkey.”

“I told him to do zat,” Pierre said. “You are supposed to be washing ze elephant. Now move!”

Galen muttered some vague apology and ran off.

Betsy the elephant didn't appear to have noticed Galen's lateness. She had a large, fenced-off field to herself, and was frolicking around enjoying the free space while she could. She toyed with a tree branch, swinging it across the autumn leaves on the ground as if raking.

A senior stagehand, by the name of Jeffery, waved both the elephant and Galen onto a raised platform. It was a simple basin that had nothing more than a drain in it, but it was large enough for Betsy to lie down and stretch. Galen and his elder took turns spraying the beast with hoses connected to some water system Galen didn't yet understand.

“You're late, Mark,” said Jeffery, watching Betsy play in what was rapidly becoming mud.

“Sorry about that – ”

“Ah, don't worry about it,” The large, bearded man said cheerfully. Galen mused that, if it weren't for Jeffery's harsh Boston accent, he would have made a perfect Santa Claus. “Did Pierre hit you with the monkey?”

Galen nodded. His boss laughed.

“It's fine. Just don't mistreat any of the animals and he'll warm up to you eventually.”

Galen looked past Betsy to the pen that housed the ghost lions and beyond even that back to the alligator. “I was sort of worried when I heard how many animals were kept here. But it looks like they're all taken care of properly.”

“Of course. Y'know, Pierre is the only reason we're allowed to have an elephant in the first place.”

“Oh?” Galen asked, deciding that continuing the small talk would improve what seemed to be a good first impression.

“Yeah. Pierre started as an exotic vet, then a zookeeper,” said Jeffery. “By the time he joined the circus, he had so many licenses that he can keep any animal he wants. Including some that aren't even supposed to exist.”

“Like ghost lions?”

“Like ghost lions.”

The two of them continued to wash and admire the elephant for a few minutes. Then, Galen saw something out of the corner of his eye.

“Jeff...” Galen said. “How many monkeys does the circus have?”

“Just one. Why?”

Galen now looked in the direction of Stage 1. It was hard to tell from a distance, but it looked like a humanoid figure standing on the 'Alesia Circus' sign.

“Well I'll be,” Jeff said, shading his eyes with his hand. “That's no monkey! That's a person.”

“One of our guys?”

“Must be! But they're supposed to use the crane to take that thing down.” He took the hose from Galen. “I'll finish up here. Go check out what's happening and radio Vercingetorix if there's an issue.”

Galen tapped the walkie-talkie on his belt.

“Got it.”

It was a jog of annoyance that drove Galen across the field to Stage 1. He wondered how someone had even managed to climb the tent, let alone why. It should have taken the crew's cherry-picker to even reach the scaffolding.

Whoever it was, Galen was sure it must have been some determined idiot.

He approached the base of the tent. Galen and the climber were still separated by the entire height of the tent, but they were close enough for him to recognize the climber's long, black hair flowing in the breeze.

“Oh goddammit it's Tsuki,” Galen muttered.

“Hey Galen!” Tsukiko cried from above.

“What are you doing up there?!” Galen demanded. “And how – ”

“Check it out!” Tsukiko said gleefully. She let go of the scaffolding tower and bent her legs.

“No, don't – ”

It was too late. Tsukiko leapt off of the sign. She flew a surprising height before clearing the ten. Then, gravity remembered its place and she began to fall.

Galen's instincts took hold. It was clear where Tsukiko would impact the ground. He sprinted to that spot as fast as he could manage.

As he and Tsukiko both sped towards the point of impact, he heard Tsukiko scream something.

Galen stretched out his arms. He hadn't had time to think about whether or not this would help and, in hindsight, he would realize that it wouldn't.

One loud, painful crash later, Tsukiko and Galen were a collapsed heap.

For a moment, both were silent.

“Why did you catch me?” Tsukiko asked.

“What kind of question is that?”

“No, seriously. Why did you catch me?!” Tsukiko demanded, managing to get herself onto all fours. “You're no softer than the ground!”

“I had to do something,” Galen said, struggling to his feet. “Why did you jump?!”

“Because of this!” Tsukiko stood up fully, then tugged the bottom edge of her fiery pink sweater. “It's the Jumper!”

“It's ugly!”

“I know. But it lets me jump super high. And then not die when I hit the ground.”

“You could've told me that.”

“Believe me, if I knew you were going to try to Superman me, I would've!” Tsukiko rubbed her neck. “I think it only works properly if I land on my feet. And it doesn't protect you at all!”

“You don't say.” Galen muttered, rotating his wrists to ensure they still worked. While doing so, he took a long look at his left hand.

“Hey, Tsuki?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“Does my pinkie look all right to you?”

Tsukiko looked at Galen's left pinkie. The finger itself looked fine. The angle it was sticking out of his hand did not.

Tsukiko let out a short terrified scream.

“Yeah that's what I thought,” Galen said. “It's just that it doesn't hurt, so I was – ”

Tsukiko released a second, completely identical, scream.

One of the two screams managed to attract Vercingetorix, who sauntered over from the far side of the tent. He looked at Tsukiko's pained expression, then to Galen's more stoic, confused expression. Finally, he noticed Galen's sideways finger.

“Well,” said the manager. “I think it's time to introduce you to the next Religalia. It heals injuries.”

Vercingetorix led Tsukiko, Galen and Galen's dislocated finger to a trailer, very similar to the one Tsukiko had began her day in.

It even had an identical insignia on the front – a stylized top hat and magic wand.

“This where you keep the Religalia?” Tsukiko asked.

“It is.”

“I was expecting something more... I dunno, magical,” Tsukiko said. “Like a wormhole to an alternate dimension where tanks and clothing are one and the same.”

“That is a very healthy imagination you have,” said Vercingetorix. “One moment.”

He stepped into the trailer, closing the door behind him.

“How's the finger?” Tsukiko asked Galen.

“Still sideways. And it still doesn't hurt.” Galen said. In curiosity, he poked it with the index finger of his other hand. In an instant, his face contorted in pain.

“That looked like a bad idea,” Tsukiko said, wincing.

“It was,” Galen said quietly. “It really was.”

In the moment Vercingetorix promised, he emerged from the trailer. He held a pair of red, sparkling shoes. Their hue and sheer size of the heel made Tsukiko think of something Stiletto the knife thrower would wear.

“These,” said Vercingetorix. “Are the High Heals.”

“Of course it's a pun. Sure. How do they work?” Tsukiko asked, taking the shoes. “Do I wear them, or does Galen?”

“You do.”

“Darn,” Tsukiko said, kicking off her current footwear. “The other way would have been way funnier.”

Galen gave her an annoyed look, no doubt exacerbated by the pain in his hand.

“Now, place your hands around Galen's injury like so.” Vercingetorix extended his index fingers and thumbs, tracing a diamond. “You can heal as big of a wound as you need to by spreading your hands further.”

“You should have shown me this one first!” Tsukiko said. She placed her hands as Vercingetorix showed her, ensuring that Galen's distorted pinkie was in the middle of her hand formation. “Now, I just need to believe that it will heal Galen, despite how impossible it seems?”

“You have to click the back of your heels together to activate it, but yes, that is what you must believe.”

Tsukiko closed her eyes and cleared her mind. She concentrated on her breathing, and nothing but the idea that Galen's finger would be repaired. Then, she clicked her heels.

She felt a slight shifting in her footwear, as she had with the Tank Top. She opened her eyes slightly to allow herself a brief glance at her feet. Wires emerged from the High Heals' lining. They slithered down around her ankle and conglomerated on the shoes' toe box. In seconds, each shoe had a shining silver cross on Tsukiko's toes.

“This is incredible,” Galen said. He watched in awe as his finger twisted back into place. In an instant, his finger was back to normal. He curled and extended it a few times, without any pain. “You need to tell hospitals about this!”

“We can't do that,” Vercingetorix said solemnly.

“Why not?” Tsukiko asked. “You can't just keep something like this locked up in a trailer!”

“No one knows how to make another set of High Heals,” Vercingetorix explained. “I'm sure you understand that dissecting a pair of shoes looking for some miracle cure would only risk damaging the Religalia.”

“Have you studied them at all?” Galen asked.

“Of course, but all we have learned are that they have some limitations.” Vercingetorix held up fingers as he listed, “Number one – they cannot cure diseases, even the mildest stomachache. Number two – they cannot heal injuries that are too old. We're not sure what the cutoff is, but it seems that injuries that the body has already begun to heal of its own accord are unaffected by the High Heals' power. Number three – they cannot replenish blood. They will fix the damaged tissue and prevent further blood loss, but someone who has lost too much blood already will still die. And, of course, number four – they cannot bring someone back from death.”

“The shoes are still pretty far above modern medicine,” Galen said, still enchanted by his working finger. “I still think you need to take them to a hospital.”

“And tell them what? That a circus has magic footwear that can mend broken bones?” Vercingetorix asked. “In the past, we did take the shoes around hospitals. Unfortunately, the surgeons thought we had planted fake injured victims as a publicity stunt. Quite a frustrating affair.”

Vercingetorix shook his head.

“You're welcome to try, whenever we're set up close enough to a hospital,” He said. “Just don't be late for your shows. Hospitals have doctors that can help patients without you, but we need you here for your magic shows.”

“Believe me, I won't be late,” Tsukiko promised. “In fact... I think I'm going to go get ready for the next show.”

She looked back at Galen.

“Come find me when you're done washing elephants or whatever!” She said cheerfully. Then she departed, bouncing dozens of feet into the air. After a few leaps across the field, she vanished completely out of sight.

Galen watched her depart, then sighed, staring at his finger.

“Is something troubling you, Galen?” Vercingetorix asked. “Your finger is back to normal, isn't it?”

“It's completely fine,” said Galen, wiggling it to make sure.

“Then what's the matter?”

Galen leaned against the banister of the trailer's stairs. He looked across the field, and in the distance, he saw a shape that looked distinctly like Tsukiko leaping a few dozen feet into the air.

“Tsukiko and I are partners,” Galen said. “She's said it before – that her magic shows wouldn't be as good without me. It really meant a lot to me to hear that.”

“Oh?”

“Do you ever feel jealous of the circus performers?” Galen asked. “Well, maybe jealous isn't the right word, but – ”

Vercingetorix nodded before Galen could even think of a way to reword his question.

“The performers are truly something special,” said Vercingetorix. “They do things that no one else can possibly comprehend. Myself and the crewmembers, we tend to sit on the sidelines and watch the magic. We are, to be blunt, ordinary people. However close we are to them, it can feel like we're worlds apart.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” Galen said. “But I wasn't always so far away, you know? Tsukiko and I were... eight, I think, when we met. Even then, she could do card tricks and sleight of hand. But I understood all of that. I only learned the tricks I needed to do, and even then I was never as good at them as she was, but it was always possible.”

Vercingetorix continued to nod.

“Now there are all these Religalia in the mix,” Galen continued. “And now she's jumping fifty feet in the air and healing my broken finger and...”

“And turning into a tank.”

“Especially turning into a tank! How's an ordinary person like me supposed to keep up?”

“Tell me, Galen,” said Vercingetorix. “Why did you decide to be Tsukiko's partner in magic? And why did she decide she wanted you over anyone else?”

Galen shook his head.

“I can't answer the second one. I mean, I don't get stage fright and we can bounce jokes off each other. Maybe that's all it is.”

“Well then, what about the first question? Why did you get into stage magic with Tsukiko?”

Galen paused. He had thought this would be the simpler question to answer, but he had to think back to each and every magic show he'd been a part of to find his answer.

“It's fun,” Galen said simply, a faint smile on his face. “I wouldn't have thought of doing it if it weren't for Tsukiko, but it really is fun. Tsukiko once tried to describe it as showing people impossible, amazing things, and letting them forget how boring reality is. I thought it was silly at the time she said that, but I guess that's really what we do.”

“And now she's doing what even you think is impossible.”

“Yeah. It's like I'm just an audience member now.”

“The thing is, Galen, the things Tsukiko does now are feel as impossible to her as they look to you. It's her conviction that makes it possible.”

“And the Religalia.”

“Well, here's a much simpler question,” said Vercingetorix. “Do you have the same conviction as Tsukiko? If you were to wear a Religalia, do you think you could make it respond to you?”

Galen turned to look at Vercingetorix, eyes wide.

“Are you asking what I think you're asking?”

Vercingetorix smiled.

“There are a couple Religalia left,” Vercingetorix said. “Two of them even have the dubious tradition of being worn by the magician's assistant as opposed to the magician herself.”

Galen paused.

“Why didn't you start off by telling me that?”

“I was curious,” Vercingetorix said with a shrug. “I wondered if your thoughts were the same as those of their previous owner.”

“Oh? Who was their previous owner?”

Vercingetorix scratched his chin. It was a contemplative reply when he said, “The man gave up his magician's assistant ways many years ago. And considering how he, like you, tended to give the fame to the magician herself, I think he may prefer to remain anonymous for the time being.”

“Doesn't sound exactly like me, then,” Galen said. With a grin, he added, “I told Tsuki I'd steal her show at some point.”

Vercingetorix laughed. “Let's see how well that translates into a conviction in the impossible, shall we?”

[mercidercqu]

  I’m such a Disney fanatic that it doesn’t matter what time of year I visit the magical House of Mouse; all that matters is that I’m there and biting down into a turkey leg within my first twenty minutes after arrival.

The last time I’d done Disney at Christmas was back in 1996 when Disney decided to decorate the timeless Cinderella’s Castle like a giant birthday cake. Apparently, it was an ironically “tasteless” decision for guests, but as a doe-eyed six year old who firmly believed that Mickey Mouse was real until I was 12, I thought it was fantastic.

(allears.net)

So here are the pros of visiting the Most Magical Place on Earth at Christmas:

You’re in Walt Disney World, escaping frigid temps from most places across the country during winter

It’s Walt Disney World

Turkey legs

Dole Whip

Mickey’s Very Merry Christmas Parade

Performances

Snow falling down Hollywood Blvd. in Hollywood Studios (really)

Pictures with Santa

Pictures with Santa’s Reindeer

Pictures with every Disney character donning their Christmas garb

Swimming in the middle of winter

Hot tubs (depending on your resort)

Again, it’s Walt Disney World. Isn’t that enough said?

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  And the cons (if you really want to call them that)

It’s extremely, extremely, extremely jam packed on Christmas Day

  (This was us on Christmas Day stuck for about 45 minutes in Fantasyland)

My dad, fiance and I wanted to go to our favorite spot for our first Christmas without my mom. Disney had always been our favorite place growing up, and a part of that has always been because the magic overtakes you the second you arrive. Especially this Christmas, we wanted the opportunity to escape the reality of not seeing my mom’s presents under the tree, of not hearing her make breakfast and subsequently cursing because she never knew how to make an over-easy egg, to not spending the most family inducing holiday with…our actual family. Walt Disney World was not only a place where we could escape the reality of my mom’s death, but be somewhere to celebrate the memories she helped us create for the twenty-six years I had her.

We stayed at one of the economy hotels, All Star Sports, which was actually our favorite out of all the “All Star” resorts we previously occupied. There’s something so exciting about being around larger than life surfboards and shark fins, and an enormous football field where “real” snow fell from the sky every night at 6 o’clock.

On our last morning in the resort, a Cast Member advised us that the park usually hits capacity on Christmas Day. We thanked her for the head’s up, and then brushed her off when we got on our bus, eager to begin our magical day at the Magic Kingdom. Well what she told us was no joke – there were people everywhere. Even smaller rides, like the People Mover and even the Carousel of Progress were inundated with visitors. There were cast members segregating the flow of traffic, holding up arrows and signs and helping navigate the overwhelming flow unlike any I’d ever seen before.

I’d done Christmas at Disney a few times growing up, but I had never seen it as busy as it was this past holiday season. The park hit capacity around noon and we darted out of the park after making our way through Fantasyland, ducking the hoards of people in Frontierland and grabbing the first bus that came around. It sounds like a headache but it was the furthest thing: it gave us the opportunity to head back to the hotel, unwind in the warm water, grab a bite to eat and actually enjoy Christmas talking with one another. We opened up presents, laughed, reminisced about all the holidays my mom made so magical and wonderful, we took pictures with Santa in our lobby and frolicked in the foam snow that fell from the sky at our resort. It was an absolute blast and by far one of my absolute favorite days spent in Disney World. We were so busy, then heading off to Hollywood Studios, that I actually forgot it was Christmas!

Each park and resort is decorated so beautifully for the holidays: larger than life trees, decorated with every ornament you could imagine, children wearing Christmas shirts and Christmas hats, hot chocolate, Christmas carols, and there’s just a spirit of Christmas that flows throughout the kingdom. It’s unlike any other way you’ll celebrate the holidays, even if you’re not spending time in the parks on Christmas Day itself.

John and I visit Walt Disney World often and this past trip was our first time utilizing the Memory Maker. It allows you to capture every picture they take in the park – from rides, to pictures in front of iconic park staples, it was worth every penny. One thing I love about the photographers in Disney is that they sometimes add a little magic to your photos without you even realizing it.

  My mom’s favorite Disney character was Tinkerbell. The day before she died, I told her that I was wearing brand new Tinkerbell scrubs to work. She got so giddy and excited and asked me to send her a picture of them that night so she could see. It slipped my mind when I got home, only to remember later that night after the scrubs were lying on my bedroom floor and I convinced myself I’d just send her the picture the following day. I received a phone call at 6:30am the next morning that my mother had died.

It’s that typical, irrational guilt that I still carry with me more than a year later that I never sent her that picture. So ever since, I try and find symbolism that my mom’s still near me whenever I run into something Tinkerbell. When the photographer uploaded these pictures to my Magicband, I was stunned of who he added.

Walt Disney World may have hit capacity on Christmas Day, but that couldn’t matter to me in the slightest. It’s still a place that is in a world of its’ own, a world of wonder and of magic and of happiness. There’s no way that photographer could have known what Tinkerbell meant to me, but I’m glad my mom convinced him of it anyway.

  Walt Disney World @ Christmas: Magical or Absolutely Wonderful I'm such a Disney fanatic that it doesn't matter what time of year I visit the magical House of Mouse; all that matters is that I'm there and biting down into a turkey leg within my first twenty minutes after arrival.