#and i did not spend years of my life being treated like a circus animal because of my autism | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shireness-says · 4 years ago

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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 clich��.

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.”

#cssns20 #captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink #magicians!CS #The Night Circus #they finally meet guys!#twenty some odd years later #also henry is real cute #and i just want you to know that

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fandom-pardes · 4 years ago

Text

According to halacha, which actions are Azula liable for?

Reposted from my Tumblr.

One of my favorite ways to study Jewish texts is to take a fictional character or situation and examine it through the lens of Jewish text and tradition.

I’ve done this before with ABC’s Once Upon A Time. Now I’m going to take up this exercise again with Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Before I begin, a few things to keep in mind.

I’m not a Talmud scholar.

There is no definitive Jewish Opinion™ about any issue pertaining to halacha. Unanimous opinions on halacha are so rare that when we find one, we assume something went wrong in the process..

Azula is a morally polarizing character in AtLA fandom. Regardless of who you ask, you’re bound to get some strong opinions about exactly what she’s done, the extent to which she’s responsible for it, and what this says about her morality or lack thereof. I’m not going to rehash those arguments. I think I’ve made it clear that I care less about whether people approve of her behavior than I do about how their statements about her reinforce harmful messages about women, people of color, LGBT people and mentally ill people.

Nevertheless, she’s incredibly interesting, and studying Jewish text is fun, so here we are.

Why examine Azula’s actions through the lens of halacha?

Halacha gets a lot of flack because it comes off as excessively legalistic. But, in my opinion, that’s based on a misunderstanding of what halacha is. Usually translated as “Jewish law,” the word halacha actually comes from the root word that means “to go/walk.”

Halacha is not a collection of rules for the sake of having rules. It’s meant to take us somewhere. You can write a library of books about exactly what that is and what it means. But for the sake of simplicity, halacha is how we show that we recognize the holiness of everything in creation. So we aim to do right by one another, by the land we live in and by the creatures we share this world with.

Before we can launch into examining the halachic ramifications of the things Azula does, we need to establish some boundaries.

Only the show counts. It’s the common frame of reference universally accepted by the vast majority of fandom. Fandom’s stances on the comics, novelizations and other tie-in materials are too variable to base an analysis on.

Word of God is immaterial. While some would use the phrase Death of the Author, Jewish tradition has a more entertaining take on it. In the Talmud, there’s a dispute between Rabbi Eliezer and some of his peers. In that story, Rabbi Eliezer says that if he’s right, this or that miraculous thing would happen, and those miraculous things do happen. But the other rabbis still reject it because we don’t determine halacha by miraculous signs. Eventually, God parts the heavens and says, “Rabbi Eliezer is right.” But another rabbi responds, “The Torah is not in heaven,” meaning that the Torah was meant for human beings on earth to interpret for themselves. And God’s response? To smile and say, “My children have defeated Me.”

Now, let’s begin.

Is Azula bound by halacha?

She’s not Jewish, so no. However, all human beings are bound by the Noahide laws. For the sake of argument, let’s say that the Noahide covenant applies to all humans on all worlds. According to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 56a.24):

Since the halakhot of the descendants of Noah have been mentioned, a full discussion of the Noahide mitzvot is presented. The Sages taught in a baraita: The descendants of Noah, i.e., all of humanity, were commanded to observe seven mitzvot: The mitzva of establishing courts of judgment; and the prohibition against blessing, i.e., cursing, the name of God; and the prohibition of idol worship; and the prohibition against forbidden sexual relations; and the prohibition of bloodshed; and the prohibition of robbery; and the prohibition against eating a limb from a living animal.

What is Azula’s legal status?

In any case, we know the rules, and now we have to decide whether Azula broke them or not, right?

Not so fast.

First, we have to determine if Azula is of the appropriate legal status to be held accountable for upholding the Noahide laws. In other words: when she committed certain acts, was Azula an adult capable of making rational decisions?

Clear your mind of the idea that being an adult is the same as being a grownup. Instead, think of it as a term that defines when people can make legally binding decisions.

As far as I can tell, the Talmud doesn’t say when a gentile becomes an adult. However, we can use halacha as a guide.

Now for a warning.

If frank talk about the physical development of adolescents makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this next part. There’s nothing graphic or titillating about what I’m going to discuss, but if breasts and pubic hair squick you out, skip this part until I say it’s safe in bold like this.

According to halacha, a girl reaches adulthood when she’s twelve years and one day old and has two pubic hairs. Yeah, you read that right. Twelve and two pubes are the requirement. Before this point, nothing she does is legally binding, even if she’s really smart and claims to be fully aware of what she’s doing. After this point, her actions are legally binding, even if she says she had no idea what she was doing.

On the show, we see Azula in a range of ages. In “Zuko Alone,” we see her at roughly eight years old. In “The Storm,” she’s about eleven. In all the other episodes she’s in, she’s fourteen. So, from a legal standpoint, flashback!Azula is too young for her actions to be legally binding. At that point in time, the responsibility would fall to her parents.

Um, I’m not willing to speculate about the genitals of an underage cartoon character, so for the sake of argument, I’m assuming that 14-year-old Azula meets the two pubes requirement. Thus, 14-year-old Azula is responsible for her actions.

If you skipped that last part, it’s safe to continue now.

OK, we’ve established that flashback!Azula is too young for her actions to be legally binding, but in the main story, Azula is legally an adult and responsible for her actions.

We good? Alright.

Which Noahide laws does Azula actually break?

This is both easier and harder than it seems.

The laws about idol worship, cursing God, and forbidden sexual acts don’t apply to her because neither religion nor sex are portrayed as such on the show. Also, the law about establishing courts of justice is a communal obligation, not one that falls on a single individual, so that’s another one we don’t have to concern ourselves with.

That leaves the prohibitions against bloodshed, robbery and eating a limb cut from a living animal.

First up: bloodshed.

The connotation of the prohibition against bloodshed is not for general acts of violence, but actual murder.

Here’s where I think I’m going to throw a lot of people for a loop. Azula doesn’t kill anyone on the show. She tries. She comes close. She wouldn’t lose sleep over it if she did. But nobody’s dead because of her. She doesn’t even take lives as collateral damage.

One could argue that zapping Aang with lightning counts as killing, but when the Sages talk about death and dying, I assume they mean the kind where the dead stay dead, not people who are revived by magic spirit water. Furthermore, if someone’s about to kill you (and I think entering the Avatar State qualifies here), you are halachically obligated to save your own life, even if it means killing that person.

Second: robbery.

We’ll come back to that.

Third: eating a limb from a living animal.

This prohibition is often expanded to incorporate all forms of animal cruelty.

The show does portray animal cruelty. We see a prime example with the circus in “Appa’s Lost Days.”

But what about Azula? We don’t see her interact with many animals on the show, but there are two notable examples: Appa the sky bison in “Appa’s Lost Days” and Bosco the bear in “The Crossroads of Destiny.”

How does her behavior measure up? Despite her earlier behavior of terrorizing turtleducks, Azula does not harm either Appa or Bosco.

On the show, Mai and Ty Lee are seen spending time with Bosco in the throne room while the Earth King is imprisoned. So, at the very least, they treat the bear well.

So, Azula is not liable for animal cruelty.

*hands Azula her Not As Big A Jerk As She Could Have Been award*

Now, let’s revisit that prohibition against robbery.

Given the prescribed punishment (decapitation), the connotation seems to be taking the rightful property of another through violent means. That being said, the prohibition against robbery is often extended to include all sorts of theft.

This one might have some legs. On the show, does Azula take the rightful property of another, and does she use violent means to do so?

Absolutely.

A major example is stealing the clothes of the Kyoshi Warriors after defeating them in combat.

But!

The show takes place during a time of war, and the Kyoshi Warriors, as allies of the Avatar, are enemies of the Fire Nation. So does beating them up and taking their uniforms fall under the prohibition against robbery, or are the Kyoshi Warrior uniforms considered the spoils of war and thus free for the taking?

Halachically speaking, it might actually be the latter. When fighting the Kyoshi Warriors, Azula acts as a military commander during a time of war and achieves a decisive victory against an elite combat unit. Thus, she is entitled to take their stuff.

So, back to the original question: which actions does Azula commit during the show that she’s halachically liable for?

The answer, shockingly, may be: none.

On the show, we’re encouraged to think of Azula as a Very Bad Girl who does Very Bad Things. She’s calculating, ruthless and deceptive. She’s also full of herself. She’s not someone who inspires warm, fuzzy feelings in most people. But when you put her actions under the microscope, she exercises remarkable restraint compared to what she’s capable of.

Don’t worry. No one’s going to nominate her for a Nobel Peace Prize just yet. This is Azula we’re talking about. She’s not acting out of an overwhelming love for humanity. But it is interesting that despite her threats to kill, maim and destroy, she doesn’t participate in wanton destruction or wasteful loss of life.

#azula #atla meta #jewish meta

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tev-the-random · 4 years ago

Text

What it Ursa took her children with her? - Pt.2

As we were saying:

Little over year has passed since the family arrived in Hira’a, and fateful news gets to them: Ozai remarried. His new wife is someone who is honoured to marry the Firelord and doesn’t mind the fact that his head is so deep up his own arse- anyway, and they are expecting a child, who is to be the Firelord’s legitimate heir.

Azula’s hopes and dreams are shattered. At age ten, she is quite literally being replaced in her beloved father’s life. It’s like she’s never even existed, and she can’t help but wonder what she did wrong.

Zuko is also upset, of course. All those years when Ozai told him he was unfit and worthless come flooding back. But somehow, he already expected things to turn out like this. Unlike Azula, he wasn’t so deeply feeding on hopes that things would go back to normal. He sees it more as a situation that was out of everyone’s control.

He convinces Azula it’s not her fault, and these kids will still be trying to understand and defend their father later down the road. There must be a reason for all of this, right? They start thinking of a reasonable scenario…

Ursa just feels sorry for the poor woman who has to deal with Ozai now.

So we get a timeskip: about three years came and went. Zuko and Azula – treated as kids and not as weapons – lead a peaceful and happy life whenever they’re not thinking of their father and everything they could be doing out there.

They have become known local troublemakers in their spare time. Kids know better than to challenge them, people know not to leave flammable goods out in the open – a strict policy regarding fireworks has been established after a chaotic incident – and failure to keep an eye on them this one time led to… well, let’s just say that the town is still unsure of whether or not they’re is being haunted by evil spirits.

They aren’t allowed anywhere near Forgetful Valley, but bold of you to assume they never tried. In-jokes arise.

‘No, I’m serious: that tree’s face looked exactly like yours, Zuzu. You really should befriend it,’ Azula mocks, remembering a particularly ugly tree they encountered in their adventure.

‘Sorry, I wasn’t looking at it. I was busy looking for whoever it was that asked you,’ Zuko retorts. ‘Since Forgetful Valley has all the kinds of crazy stuff.’

‘Maybe we should go back and look for your impulse control, then.’

‘None of you are going back in there,’ Ursa reprehends. ‘It was very irresponsible of you. Forgetful Valley is a dangerous place, you could have gotten hurt!’

‘Your mother is right, you know?’ Noren comments. ‘I’ve been to that jungle before, and it’s definitely not a playground. But I swear…’ He makes a dramatic pause. ‘I once saw Ursa’s sense of humour in there.’

The kids burst out laughing while Ursa sighs. ‘Since you can find such amazing things in the valley, dear, why don’t you go back there and find yourself actual funny jokes? I’m sure my sense of humour will be around the same corner.’

*More laughter*

(IDK, I write crappy comedy, ok?)

They still have a bit of a hard time making friends. I wouldn’t say they are shy, but they definitely have a talent to say the wrong things at the wrong times, and it’s hard to make deep connections. Sure, they would play with other kids from time to time, but in the end, Zuko and Azula are each other’s best friend.

They’ve cleared an area by the beach that any Hira’a resident knows to stay away from when they’re training.

Azula discovered a great passion for theatre. Not only are her acting skills fantastic, she also seems to be naturally aware of what makes a good scene. People say she’s Noren’s Little Assistant.

She hates being called Noren’s Little Assistant. She would much rather be called Ursa’s Little Star, because goddamn is she a good actress and she needs everyone to know that.

Zuko is more of a plant-lover guy. Unfortunately, he hasn’t inherited his grandmother’s green thumb, and despite Ursa’s best efforts to teach him, it seems like everything he touches dies.

He has grown to show a way with animals, however. Any variety of frogs and toads love him; lizards of all kinds are attracted to him like he’s a magnet; furry animals big and small adore him and any type of bird-like creature seems to think he is the best human being in existence. But his favourite animals are still the turtleducks.

Back in the palace, Iroh eventually learns of Ozai’s bullshit and how he got the throne in the first place. And you know what? The time has come for Iroh to draw a line in the sand. He confronts his little brother, who confronts him back by telling him that, should he try to tell anyone in the Fire Nation the truth – that Ozai was a top-grade traitor who actually had no right to the throne –, no one would believe him. Since his brother won’t be sensible, Iroh decides that’s it: he’s fucking out.

Now a fugitive from the Fire Nation, he somehow winds up owning a lovely traveling tea shop called the Jasmin Dragon. Most people don’t even suspect he is the fearful Dragon of the West, because he’s just so nice?

You can bet he serves blends of tea from all across the nations.

The tea shop is also a good cover up for his exchanges with the Order of the White Lotus. He gives and receives information, and does his best to help villages to either defend themselves or evacuate during Fire Nation attacks.

One day a member of the White Lotus travels to Hira’a for one reason or another and finds Zuko and Azula. This person then sends a letter to Iroh.

Iroh comes to Hira’a to visit the family. He’s glad to see they’re ok, even if he can’t stay for too long. But long enough for some Quality Time – these kids have grown so much!

Iroh doesn’t know of Ursa’s part in Azulon’s assassination, and only assumes she knew of Ozai’s plan. But now, it’s time that her children learned a couple of things, and he is willing to teach them, so that when the time arrives for them to meet their destiny, they should be able to choose wisely and face whatever comes their way. So he asks the children to accompany him in his travels.

Ursa doesn’t want to let them go. They’re children, they should be here living a peaceful life, not meeting some grand, dangerous destiny! What if something horrible happened to them?

Iroh understands the pain of losing a child. He doesn’t want to make Ursa spend her time worrying about losing two, so he respects her decision and soon leaves the town.

But the siblings are not about to just sit here when they know they’re destined for something greater. What incredible knowledge did their uncle hold? Did their father have something to do with this? They always knew there was more to their fate than just living in Hira’a for the rest of their lives, and this is their chance; it’s now or never.

Zuko and Azula are about to sneak out and follow Iroh when Noren spots them. But instead of trying to stop them – he is well aware that he can’t – he gives them two masks and some advice about never forgetting who they were.

Why yes, I am saying that they eventually take the masks and become partners in crime, Zuko as the Blue Spirit and Azula as the Red Spirit, because parallels.

They catch up with their uncle and adventures and shenanigans issue as Zuko, Azula and Iroh cross the Earth Kingdom.

Now imagine this trio: two of the most awkward firebending teenagers travelling with their old tea-loving uncle, who spits proverbs like he’s made of them. The possibilities for both hilarious and heart-warming moments are endless.

Iroh thinks himself a matchmaker. Whenever he thinks he sees some romance going on, he encourages his nephew or niece to make a move. His flaming cupid arrows do more damage than good, yet he only has good intentions at heart. Teens all around the kingdom encourage you to stop, sir.

Their new life is even more humbling than in Hira’a, since they are constantly travelling. But they manage, and they know their uncle is nothing but wise… even if Azula is still quite arrogant and manipulative, and Zuko is impatient and hot-headed, which can lead to a lot of conflict.

Iroh teaches them both how to create and redirect lightning. Zuko is better at redirecting than Azula. Creating it, on the other hand, is a bit more complicated, and both of them get their fair share of explosions while learning. Neither of them really gets a hang of it – although Azula is better at it than Zuko, that’s not saying much – for they still have a lot of identity-related turmoil inside them that won’t let them grasp the energy.

Guess who else teaches them? Other members of the White Lotus. Both Zuko and Azula get some swordsmanship Skills™ from Piandao, some different (and somewhat unwillingly taught) firebending technics from Jeong-Jeong and a lot of things from Bumi, including but not limited to: creative thinking, the art of patience, strategic planning, dealing with pirates and a surprising amount of rocks-related knowledge.

Bumi adopted Zuko and Azula and gave himself the role of Second Uncle. You cannot convince me otherwise.

So one day, little over a year after the siblings joined Iroh, they wind up in a city where this big circus is performing. Uncle Iroh decides to take his niece and nephew to see it. And oh, aren’t they surprised by who they see performing?

Even though Ty Lee was essentially the only one between her sisters to befriend Azula – and consequentially, the only one to periodically spend time in the palace with her –, Zuko and Iroh still have a hard time distinguishing her from the six other girls who look exactly like her, uncertainly calling her all different names before Azula snaps ‘you idiots, that’s Ty Lee!’.

The acrobat is so glad to see her friend again, because damn: it’s been nearly four years since they last saw or even heard from each other! And Zuko, I thought you were dead? This is such a neat reunion, there’s so much for them to talk about! And sure, the circus has to leave soon and so do the siblings, but Ty Lee reassures them that, if they ever needed her, she wasn’t hard to find. This isn’t the last we’ll see of Ty Lee.

Azula doesn’t let it show, but she resents Ty Lee a little bit for choosing to abandon her noble life. She really wishes she could have had a choice.

Uncle Iroh tells the siblings stories about the war that would have some day mesmerized them. But now, his opinions about those events and what he did as a prince general have changed; that, along with what the family sees in their journey – all the horrors brought to innocent people – gives Zuko and Azula a new perspective on what they used to think was a greater good. It will still take a while for Azula to understand that no, these people are no lesser than her and for Zuko to understand why any of that matters.

Iroh eventually tells them the truth about Azulon’s death. Or at least, what he knows of it: their father killed Azulon, banished them, took the throne by force and planned to gain more power at the expense of everyone. This is a lot to take in, and the siblings don��t quite believe it.

After four years thinking about it, Zuko and Azula decided to take their mother’s early words – they went to Hira’a to be safe – and formulate what for them was a reasonable scenario. They believe that Ozai never actually wanted any of this to happen. The whole family had to have been in danger, be it due to some political, social or personal threat, and Ozai wanted to take it all by himself to protect them. So he sent his wife and children away, concocted a plan with Azulon to cover for them and, once Azulon died and left him the throne, remarried to keep appearances. To Zuko and Azula, this makes perfect sense. And they thoroughly convince themselves of that.

They initiate an argument, thinking that Iroh is jealous of Ozai.

Their uncle sees these children are starting to stray from their path, but he knows this is a necessary journey for them. They will never be able to deal with reality unless they face it.

The siblings leave Iroh, planning to head straight to the Fire Nation capital and find out what really happened. Maybe now that they are older, it would be a perfect time to come back home; they surely could defend themselves from any threats.

Of course, they’ll be very disappointed to know that Ozai was just a bitch and never actually cared for any of them.

I don’t have a full formed idea about how their reencounter with their father would go down, but I say Ozai would officially banish both his children from the Fire Nation for trying to cause a commotion – which could easily be perceived as a threat. Not only that, but Zuko and Azula are the children of a traitor; cue for Ozai revealing what happened that night four years ago, confirming that he was the one to kill Azulon with Ursa’s help.

I also think that, after that day, the Firelord would have discreetly helped spread rumours about Ursa that would drag her name through the mud in the Capital – was she cheating on Ozai? Was she selling Fire Nation information to the Earth Kingdom? Was she planning a coup against the Firelord? Her crimes change from mouth to mouth. In the end, no one would take Zuko or Azula back unless Ozai wanted it. But he doesn’t. Not now, at least…

But Ozai also decides to play with his options: he plants a seed of doubt in his children’s minds; should they prove themselves useful later on, it would only take pulling a few strings for them to come crawling back to him. So he tells them that they needed to prove themselves for everyone to see that they weren’t traitors like their mother. They needed to prove their worth so that he could accept them.

Ozai goes a step further with Azula and tells her that, before his demise, Firelord Azulon had a plan. A plan to bring her back and put her in the leading, prestigious role she was always meant to get. But they needed to wait for the right time. There is a right time, Princess Azula. Your hopes were right all along, they will come for you eventually if you prove yourself.

The siblings have a lot to think about while they’re leaving the Fire Nation. They idolized Ozai so much all these years. But the undeniable truth came crashing down on their heads, spoken by the man himself. What would they do now? They didn’t think it possible, but their harsh actions made things so much worse: they couldn’t come back to their mother, they didn’t have many hopes of running into Iroh again, they can’t even set foot in their homeland anymore; Zuko and Azula are all on their own.

Maybe it’s time to turn a new leaf. It starts with them being fairly neutral, not completely loyal to either the Fire Nation or to the rest of the world. During this period, they would argue a lot about what to do or where to go next, getting separated and going their own ways before destiny makes them stick together again, over and over.

They manage to get a few deals and own a few favours here and there, become known thieves as the Spirits, and maybe meet up with Ty Lee’s circus every now and again. Life is hard.

But there is one thing that is about to be a beacon in their darkness…

Time to catch up to the show. Oh, you thought I wouldn’t go there?

Part 3 coming right up!

(I know I said this would be a two-parter, but it got ridiculously long, so I split it again. Three-parter now.)

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himbowelsh · 4 years ago

Note

PLEASE IF YOU CAN Valentine's Day headcanons for Daniel Jackson from saving private ryan ❤❤❤

valentines day alphabet ( accepting! )

seeing as we don’t get much backstory on jackson in the movie, i took inspiration from the first draft of rodat’s script --- it’s very different from the finished product, but jackson actually talks about his home and family, so hey, i’ll take it.

A : AFFECTION. how does your muse show affection?

He’s very much not the PDA type. It’s not something he’s comfortable with --- caring for someone, in his experience, shouldn’t be a loud gesture. Jackson’s not the type to verbalize his affection, but he shows it off in actions. He’ll offer his coat to someone when they’re shivering, share his last cigarette, wordlessly lay his hand over someone else’s when it seems they need steadying... Jackson’s affection is obviously, and grounded in stone.

B : BOUQUET. does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

His mama raised him right --- if you’re visiting someone’s home for an occasion, you bring the lady of the house flowers. He doesn’t usually give them out as presents, but he will show up with some for any party or lunch date at someone else’s home. (All his friends’ moms adore him.) Usually they’re wildflowers which he’s picked himself and arranged into a neat little bouquet --- Jackson doesn’t believe in spending money on flowers when so many nice ones are growing outside all the time.

C : CHOCOLATE. does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s got a particular fondness for it, especially not having had much of it growing up. Legitimately thinks dark chocolate is good, and will say as much to anyone who asks, with no idea why this makes certain Reiben people so angry.

D : DATE. what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He’s a simple man; doesn’t need a lot. Maybe a nice nature walk, just the two of them, where they can fill the silence with soft conversation? That sounds nice... or maybe a night under the stars, laying side-by-side on a blanket in a field somewhere, a campfire smouldering next to them, while they stare up at an incredibly bright night. There’s no better place to feels close to the heavens, or his partner.

E : EMBRACE. does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Jackson’s hugs are serious, very firm, tight enough to press some of his own strength into the other person’s body. He usually only hugs to offer someone comfort --- one-armed, pulling them against his chest just so they know they aren’t alone. Softer things, like snuggling... well, he’s never really done that, outside of childhood puppy piles with the cousins, so he’d have to relearn the skill.

F : FLIRT. is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Jackson isn’t refined, but his charm is undeniable --- when out on the town, he’s impressive without trying. Maybe it’s the confidence, maybe it’s the smooth way he handles himself, maybe it’s that he can hold his liquor like a champ but is more willing to show off his beautiful grin with a few beers in him... Jackson rarely has a problem getting acquainted with women.

G : GIFT. is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He doesn’t have a lot of money for gifts, is the thing. As a kid, they always exchanged homemade stuff, but somehow it’s not as cute from an adult man; so Jackson tends to save his money, not scattering gifts throughout the year, but treating his loved ones to big, expensive gifts once in a blue moon. He bought an ice cream maker, he bought a piano --- once, he and his brothers even pooled their money to buy their mother a spa vacation. Jackson’s gifts are very useful, and enjoyed by more than one person. (Intimate gifts, just for one --- like, for a partner --- make him nervous, and he’s never quite sure what to buy.)

H : HEART. is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He’s got a few walls up, and they’re hard to take down; he doesn’t like getting close to people, and doesn’t like them knowing too much about him. People are nosy, and don’t always have the best intentions... so he’d need someone to grow on him slowly, while he can gradually let them in more and more.

I : I LOVE YOU. does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

This is something he genuinely never thought about before getting into a relationship. It’s... harder to say than he imagined it’d be. Jackson’s a man of few words in general, so when he does say it out loud, it means something.

J : JEALOUSY. does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

He does, in a very quiet way. It’s not something he’ll speak up about. Jackson’s a watcher, a waiter, and he’ll observe the situation from a distance to first decide if there’s anything he should be concerned about. He trusts his partner implicitly, he just doesn’t trust other fellas around them. If the other person doesn’t step off after awhile, he’s not above challenging them to something, like a shooting match or a game of darts, just to casually assert his superiority... and then, if they still don’t get the hint, he’ll pull them aside and warn in a low voice that they should keep distance from his partner.

K : KISS. is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Jackson is a very intense kisser. He loves steering his partner, pulling them close with his left hand while cupping their face with his right; one thumb will stroke over their cheekbone as the motion of their lips steadily builds heat. He might slowly guide them back against the nearest surface, so he can loom over them, slowly baring down; when his lips get involved, nipping and teasing his partner’s lips, that’s when he starts to get really serious.

L : LOVE. who does your muse love?

First and foremost, Jesus Christ, his lord and savior. Then his family, all thirty-two of them (give or take a few cousins); Jackson’s particularly close to his mother, who he thinks is the most patient woman God ever put on this earth. He’s got a deep love for some of the friends he made while at war, and is the sort of man who’d hold them in his heart even if he hadn’t seen them in years.

M : MOONLIGHT. is morning or night a more romantic setting?

At night, he prefers to be asleep, and has no trouble getting that way. (Jackson’s well-known for his talent of passing out anywhere.) Anytime before noon are the perfect hours to spend with his partner, doing anything they like; he’s always a fan of a good breakfast, so given the opportunity, he’d love to share it with his partner.

N : NAUGHTY. what is your muse like in bed?

He takes it slow; there’s no rush, after all, and half the fun is in building up the sensations until both he and his partner are ready to burst. Jackson is very serious about foreplay... and very skilled at it. He trails his hands slowly up and down his partner’s body, devoting special attention to any areas that snare his interest. While he doesn’t say anything, he’ll humm or sigh, sometimes even chuckling at his partner’s reactions; he prefers to be in control, but it’s exhilarating when his partner flips the dynamic. Jackson’s hips are his one weakness, kept carefully hidden; he’s very sensitive there, and any attention paid to the sharp curve of his hipbones will get him overwhelmed very quickly, head falling back as he bites back a moan.

O : ODE. does your muse have a way with words?

Jackson grew up listening to his papa and uncles preach. Though plainspoken men in practice, up on that pulpit, they transformed; they could take the words of the Gospels straight from the page, give them wings, and send them soaring. From them, Jackson learned the virtue of eloquence, the skill of talking yourself up and making your intentions know. He’s a man of few words, but when he does speak, those words are well-articulated and full of intention.

P : PARTNER. what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Honestly, Jackson would do best with a partner who’s also religious --- someone who’s faith matters to them as much as it does to him. He was raised in a travelling ministry --- while he’s always kind of expected to follow that path, meeting his partner might change his mind, but faith will always be a bit part of his life. He’ll want to raise a religious family. Aside from that... a partner who’s empathetic, who cares about people, who doesn’t feel the need to constantly fill silences, nonjudgemental, not too high-maintenance. Maybe someone who enjoys being outdoors, who loves animals, especially dogs... someone who likes to dance, because Jackson loves to... someone with a warm smile.

Q : QUESTION. would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He’d absolutely ask, but it’d have to be in his own time. While Jackson wouldn’t be able to afford an expensive ring, he’d hope his partner would settle for his mother’s wedding band, passed through the family since his great-grandmother stole it from a travelling circus. Jackson would find a quiet patch of field --- somewhere with a nice view, maybe looking out over a wheat field or a meadow of flowers --- and lure his partner up there with the promise of a picnic. Only as they’re packing up the scraps, after a very pleasant afternoon, would he get down on one knee. “Nothing would make me a happier man than to spend the rest of my god-given life with you... if you’ll have me.”

R : ROMANCE. is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s got a romantic side, and won’t deny it. Given the opportunity and the means, Jackson would love to treat his partner; he wants to see them smiling over a dinner he made himself, to see candlelight dance in their eyes and a ring he got them on their finger. Unfortunately, he’s aware of his own limited means --- he may never have the money to wine-and-dine his lover in the world’s most romantic places, so they’ll have to settle with making every day special, in little ways. None of his friends would expect it of him, but he’s got a real soul for romance.

S : SWEETHEART. did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He traveled a lot with the family ministry, so Jackson never stayed in place long enough. He didn’t go to school as a boy (which is why his reading’s not quite up to snuff) so his interaction with other kids, outside of the extended family, was limited. Never had a chance to find a sweetheart.

T : TRUE LOVE. does your muse believe in true love?

Sure --- call him traditional, or a romantic, or whatever you like. It’s no skin off his back. Jackson believes love is the purest form of human emotion, what God created mankind to do. If they were put on this earth with the ability to kill, they’ve got to love twice as hard to make up for it... and maybe the people who’ve never taken a life are able to love the most, but loving comes naturally to most everyone.

U : UNREQUITED. has your muse had their heart broken?

Thankfully, no. He doesn’t have many things haunting his dreams at night, and does his best not to dwell on the past. The worst he’s been hurt in life is losing his grandpa, seeing one of the family dogs catch rabies, and seeing his family go hungry some nights. Nothing romantical, just the aches 'n pains of life.

V : VALENTINE. how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

It’s... not something his family ever celebrated? Lowkey, it just wasn’t a thing for them, so while he was aware of it, it was never a big deal. Should he get a partner who wants to participate in the holiday, Jackson will make every effort to learn --- and probably become dead-set on giving them the best damn Valentine’s Day they’ve ever had --- but he might be a little clueless.

W : WEDDING. would your muse get married? why / why not?

Yessir. Not a question he has to think about. Getting married is something he definitely wants --- the idea of spending the rest of his life with someone appeals to him, so long as it’s someone who loves him back. Jackson doesn’t need constant passion; he’ll settle for companionship, good company, and a bit of love. Marriage seems like the best way to make if official.

X : XOXO. does your muse use / like pet names?

Nothing embarrassing. (He’s very sensitive to embarrassing nicknames, having been called “Jackrabbit” by his family for the first twelve years of his life.) Jackson sticks to the traditional “darling”, and it’s a favorite. Uttered in that honey-sweet accent, he knows just how to make his partner blush.

Y : YOURS. does your muse get protective easily?

Very protective, and he doesn’t mess around. When Jackson sets his mind to it, he’s intimidating as hell. He’ll come up behind someone, looming taller than his actual height, with a glare on his face that could wilt flowers. Anyone who doesn’t take the hint and step off --- quickly --- is asking for a chance to become personally acquainted with the Lord.

Z : ZZZ. how many people has your muse slept with?

... he comes from a small, extremely religious community that would not take kindly to sleeping around. Daniel hasn’t had many partners. Maybe 3, maybe 4? Most of them were found overseas. Good Lord’s always watching, even in the bedroom. (He always gives the Lord a show.)

#saving private ryan #daniel jackson #spr #headcanons

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liskantope · 5 years ago

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Some brief (and sometimes not-so-brief) reactions to major Disney films 1937-1967

Around a month ago I made a temporary switch from Netflix to Disney+ with the goal of watching all major Disney movies in order, roughly paced so that one year of Disney film-making equals one day of real life. I should clarify here that by “major Disney movies” I mean mostly just all the animated ones plus a few hybrid live-action/animated ones, and a few of the most popular live-action ones (at least the ones I remember having a song considered good enough to feature on one of the Disney Sing-Along videos, a staple of my video-watching as a kid growing up in the 90′s). I would have been interested to see Song of the South, which I’ve never seen in its entirety, but it’s not included on Disney+ for fairly obvious reasons. As I get further into modern Disney, I’ll probably skip over most of the sequels and other features I strongly expect not to like (with the exception of Belle’s Magical World, which is said to be so legendarily bad that I just have to see what the fuss is about).

This time range of three decades happens to include more or less exactly those Disney productions that Walt Disney himself took a major role in (he died shortly before the final version of Jungle Book was finished). I’d like to do this again in another month, when I will have gotten up through the late 90′s, but honestly this post wound up way longer than I was imagining and took several more hours than I expected (or could really afford), so I’m not promising myself or anyone else that.

Looking at Wikipedia’s list of Disney productions, I’m a little taken aback at what a low percentage of these are animated features, which to me form the backbone of that company’s legacy; visually scanning the list makes the line of animated films look shorter than I had always imagined, but really what this is showing is that Disney produced far more live-action movies than I ever knew about, including (and perhaps especially!) in its early days. Right now I’m continuing on through the 70′s films, but this set of mini-reviews represents the first month of watching and three decades of Disney magic.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1937

This is the full-length feature that began them all and which had the burden of defying contemporary skepticism that a full-length animated feature could be taken seriously at all. We are already far beyond the earliest days of animation and have progressed lightyears beyond the quality of “Steamboat Willie”; throughout the film I marveled at the sophistication of the animation with a newfound appreciation of how groundbreaking a lot of the sequences must have been.

I know I watched this at least a couple of times in childhood and I think once when I was a bit older, but even that was long ago.

Snow White is based on one of the simpler classic fairy tales, and the writers had to come up with ways to flesh out this very short story enough to occupy well over an hour. This was done not by exploring the character of Snow White or the Queen or even filling in extra plot details (the fate of the hunter is never addressed) but by spending a lot of time on the dwarfs. The detail spent on individuating them took a lot of work from the animators, but I think their efforts paid off. I can’t say the same about the attention paid to Snow White or the Queen (pretty much the only remaining characters). Snow White has an almost entirely flat personality, with no sense of curiosity or concern whatsoever about the Queen’s designs to have her killed, just having literally only one goal in mind: to marry this Prince who she’d only seen for about two minutes and run away from out of shyness. (This is of course a trend we’ll see with Disney princesses for a long time.) The Queen similarly only has the goal of being “the fairest in the land”. Something about the particular harshness of her voice strikes me as The Quintessential 1930′s Female Villain Voice (“I’ll crush their bones!”), whatever that means -- maybe I got my idea of what this should be from the movie Snow White in the first place.

I still think “Heigh Ho” (which I’ve known well since early childhood) is an excellent song in its utter simplicity, especially when complimented with the “Dig Dig Dig” song (which I did not remember at all until a few years ago when a Tumblr mutual posted the excerpt containing it!). I’m not enormously fond of “One Day My Prince Will Come”, although I did enjoy playing it on the violin at a couple of gigs with one of my musician friends back during grad school -- I was convinced then, and up until watching Snow White just now, that it belonged to Cinderella.

Pinocchio, 1940

This was a favorite movie of mine in earlier childhood; we owned the VHS and I watched it a lot. As a child, I had no sense of one Disney movie coming from a much earlier time than another one; it was only much more recently in life that I understood that Pinocchio really comes from all the way back eight decades ago. Pinocchio taught me the meaning of “conscience” (both in the dictionary sense and in a deeper sense), and it shaped my notion of what fairies may look like -- for instance, my mental picture of the Tooth Fairy, back when I believed in her, was inspired by the Blue Fairy in Pinocchio.

It’s amazing just how much the quality of Disney animated features improved from the first one to this one, the second. It helps that both the story and the characters are far more complex than those of Snow White. The plot from the original book (which I’ve read in Italian and English) was more complex still, of course. There is one gaping hole where it’s never explained how Gepetto somehow found himself in the belly of a whale (I don’t remember whether or how this is explained in the book), but I’ll forgive that.

It’s interesting to see the 1940′s caricature of “bad (early teenage?) boy” shown in the animation and voice of Lampwick. Phantom Strider talks about the turning-into-donkeys scene as a notoriously dark scene for adults who didn’t find it as terrifying when they were children -- count me in as one of those adults! It’s especially terrifying to see the whole mass of boys-turned-donkeys being treated as slaves in the hellhole known as Pleasure Island and realizing that this is never going to be resolved in the movie -- it’s rather unusual in Disney stories for some great evil to be left unresolved with no recompense even for the chief villain. In fact, Pinocchio is pretty much the only Disney story I can think of where the worst villain doesn’t meet some kind of dire fate. Really, the range of Pinocchio’s view is much narrower: it’s just the coming-of-age story of one puppet in his quest for Real Boyhood. (And yes, I still giggle at how intricutely Jordan Peterson analyzes particular scenes from the movie to support his beliefs about neo-Marxism or whatever.)

Disney+ heads many of the descriptions of the older movies with “This program is presented as originally created. It may contain outdated cultural depictions.” I’m a little surprised they don’t do this with Pinocchio, given what appears to me a rather derogatory depiction of Gypsies.

“When You Wish Upon a Star” has become a timeless hit, for good reason. And I still find “Hi Diddle Dee Dee” extremely catchy.

Fantasia, 1940

I saw this one multiple times growing up (for earlier viewings, I was not allowed to see the final number “Night on Bald Mountain”). My mom, for her part, saw this in theaters at the age of around 4 (even though it originally came out long before she was born) and thought for years afterwards that there was no such film in real life and her memory of seeing it had been just a pleasant dream.

I have nothing much more to say about this one except that, representing a very different approach from most animated films, Disney or otherwise, 1940′s or otherwise, it succeeded exquisitely. The “Sorcerer’s Apprentice” number was particularly perfection; it was as though the composer originally had every motion of the story in mind when writing the music. At the same time, having the main character appear in the form of Mickey Mouse in some way seems to cheapen the effect.

The Reluctant Dragon, 1941

I watched this for the first time, not having known it existed. There isn’t really much to say. All that stuck in my mind was one of the shorts, “Baby Weem” (amusing in a disturbing way), and the longer segment which gives the movie its title (also amusing, in a different kind of disturbing way). It was especially interesting to see a 1940′s cartoon portrayal of a very effeminate man, or should I say, male dragon.

Dumbo, 1941

I saw this maybe two or three times growing up, and not in very early childhood. It was never one of my favorites. Later on, I learned that it was done very low-budget to make up for major financial losses in the Disney franchise. This definitely shows in the animation. However, if there’s one thing I can say in praise of Dumbo, it’s that it’s incredibly daring in its simplicity, not only to have such elegantly simple animation but in having a mute title character (instead the main “talker” in the film is the title character’s best friend, who had much more of a New York accent than I’d remembered).

In some ways I find this film incredibly cold and dark by Disney standards, for reasons I can’t entirely explain, and I remember feeling this way even on earlier watchings when I was much younger. The stark cruelty of the humans running the circus, as well as the elephants other than Dumbo and his mother, just really gets to me. (I vividly mis-remembered one of the lines I found most memorable in childhood as “From now on, Dumbo is no longer one of us.” The actual line is, “From now on, [Dumbo] is no longer an elephant”, which in a way, is even more chilling.) In this regard, there was no need to make a modern, woker remake of Dumbo containing an explicit anti-animal-exploitation message -- the 1941 version conveys this message loud and clear. Now that I’m writing this, I suppose it could be argued that this is another instance of what I described under “Pinocchio” of leaving a major evil unresolved in a Disney film. And apart from that, while the ending for Dumbo is meant to be a very happy one, as an adult I find it incredibly naive: Dumbo is now super internationally famous for his extraordinary gift and is entering the life of a child celebrity, and it’s just going to be smooth sailing from now on? I hate to say it, Dumbo, but your troubles are only just beginning. (I was glad to see Dumbo reunited with his mother in the last scene, however, which I hadn’t remembered happening at all.)

“Look Out For Mr. Stork” is a skillfully-written song I’d completely forgotten about for two decades or so but remember knowing well when I was young. I still think “When I See an Elephant Fly” is a fantastic song, especially with all its reprises at the end -- I’d had some bits of it confused in my memory but had kept the main chorus with me over all the years. Now it’s widely decried as racist, or at least the characters who sing it are decried as racist caricatures. For whatever my opinion is worth, I’m inclined to disagree with this, in particular on the grounds that the crows seem to be the most intelligent, witty, and self-possessed characters in the movie. I’m also pretty sure I heard critical things about it over the years which are false. For one thing, not all of the crows are played by white actors -- only the lead crow is, while the rest of the voices are members of a black musical group called the Hall Johnson Choir. Also, I’m not clear that the lead crow was actually named Jim Crow by the time the movie came out (no name is given in the movie itself). Now an earlier, much more forgettable song featuring black men singing about how they like to work all day and they throw their pay away... yeah that seems awfully racist.

Bambi, 1942

I have surprisingly little to say about this one -- it’s just very distinct from other Disney films of the time, in its story’s lack of magical elements, its characters all being animals and animated in to realistically model animals’ movements, its lack of musical numbers, and its plot reaching the same level of simplicity as that of Snow White. Not to mention actually having a benevolent character die, which I don’t think had been done up to that point. I remember watching this a couple of times as a kid; I was never terribly eager to watch it again and I feel the same way now, despite having majestic beauty that I can really appreciate.

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad, 1949

This is the first of Disney’s animated features that I never had seen before. What a strange movie, or should I say, two smaller, unrelated movies rolled into one. I liked Mr. Toad’s half better than Ichabod’s half, or at least I found it more entertaining. I was brought up with the book The Wind in the Willows and recall seeing a non-Disney animated rendition of it (which was better and somewhat more thorough than this half-movie-length rendition). I was kind of excited when the “The Merrily Song” started because it unlocked a song from my early-childhood memory that I’d forgotten about for more than twenty years but knew from one of the Disney Sing-Along videos. I still think it’s a not half bad song, especially with the harmony.

The Ichabod story was not at all what I expected, not being familiar with the original book version (I had always assumed that Ichabod must be the name of a villain). I found it completely boring until the final horror sequence. As a child I would have found the courtship part even more boring (at least now I can muse on how man-woman courtship dynamics were shown in the late 40′s), and I would have found the horror part at the end very scary (in fact, maybe this is the reason my parents never showed the movie to me). It is a little shocking in being the only Disney story I’ve seen so far with a decidedly unhappy ending.

Cinderella, 1950

This one I only ever saw once or twice as a child. This is not counting a very vivid memory I have from around age 6 or 7 when I was watching a part of it over at another family’s house and their child, who was almost my age and nonverbal autistic, rewound and repeated the same 2-minute sequence involving the mice for probably about an hour (I was impressed because I at the time didn’t know how to work the controls of a video player).

I suppose this could be considered the second in the main trifecta of the most conservative fairy tale princess stories that Disney did in the earlier part of its history. I think one can argue that Cinderella has the strongest and most fleshed-out character out of those three princesses. I like the spirited internal strength she reveals in her very first scene. That said, like the other earlier princesses, she seems to have one singular goal in life, and that is to find her true love, not, say, to escape her abusive stepmother and stepsisters.

My reaction to this movie is overall positive. The mice were fun (I also like how their voices seemed a lot more like how mice “should” talk than in most other Disney cartoons); the dynamic between Cinderella and her evil relatives, and the dynamic between the stepmother and stepsisters themselves, was shown in a rounded way; and the fairy godmother is a great character despite having only one scene. The character of the king is pretty odd (very selfish yet his main dream is of getting to play with his future grandchildren) while not especially memorable or well fleshed out. There are certainly some great classic songs in this one -- not the most stellar that Disney has ever produced, but solid.

Alice in Wonderland, 1951

I was curious about what I would think of this one, since we owned the video of this at my home growing up and I watched it many times during childhood but as I got older I fell in love with the original Lewis Carroll books which, together, I often consider my favorite work of written fiction ever. I had not seen the Disney film Alice in Wonderland for around two decades, although I made the mistake of catching parts of more modern, live-action adaptations of the story more recently. I wondered what I would make of the old animated Disney adaptation after getting to know the books so well.

There is simply no way that any movie can recreate the true flavor of the books, but Disney’s Alice in Wonderland does a fine job of creating the general nonsensical, sometimes bewildering dream atmosphere, and, perhaps more importantly, capturing the essence of Alice’s personality. I give a lot of credit to Katherine Beaumont for this -- she has the major girl’s role in the next movie on this list as well, but she especially shines as Alice. Two other very distinctive voices, Ed Wynn as the Mad Hatter and Sterling Holloway as the Cheshire Cat, also add a lot to the cast of characters.

While mixing around some of the scenes of the original book Alice in Wonderland, with some scenes of Alice Through the Looking Glass inserted, the progression of the plot is a long, dreamlike sequence of strange situations with only a few common threads, true to the original first book (Looking Glass had a little, but only a little, more structure). In the movie, everything breaks down at the end with many of the previous scenes and characters swirling together and Alice frantically trying to wake herself up. One could object that this is not how the dream ends in the book Alice in Wonderland, but there is a similar sort of breakdown at the end of the dream in Looking Glass and it feels very real somehow, as in my experience this is sometimes how vivid dreams disintegrate.

Oh, and did you know that Alice in Wonderland has a greater number of songs in it than any other Disney film? There are nearly 25 that made it into the film, even if lasting just for seconds, with a around 10 more written for the film that didn’t make it.

So, does the Disney film do a good job of conveying one of my favorite books of all time, within the confines of being a children’s animated film? I would say yes. For reasons I described above, and from the fact that it manages to avoid working in a moral lesson for Alice, or depicting Alice as a young adult, or manufacturing an affair between Alice and the Hatter (ugh), like some film adaptations, I would say that this classic Disney version is the best Alice in Wonderland adaptation that I know of.

Peter Pan, 1953

Although I never knew this one super well, this movie has a special place in my heart from the way the flying sequence enchanted me in early childhood. I have to differ with the YouTuber Phantom Strider when he dismisses the 40′s/50′s-style song “You Can Fly” as just not doing it for him, because that song along with the animation of the characters’ journey to Neverland had a major hand in shaping my early-childhood sense of magic and wonder and yearning. I distinctly remembering a time, around age 6, when I just didn’t see much point in watching other Disney movies, or movies at all, which didn’t have flying in them, because what could possibly top the sheer joy and freedom of feeling able to swim through the air? I’ve had hardly any exposure to Superman, and so the kind of bodily flight I imagined in fantasy or performed in dreams was almost entirely shaped by Peter Pan. (At the same time, the crocodile in Peter Pan influenced my nightmares at the same age.)

I only ever saw this one a few times, but I distinctly remember the most recent of them being when I was a teenager, perhaps even an older teenager, and I remember thinking at the time that it was a pretty darn solid Disney movie. I still think the same now, while granting that some aspects of the movie seem a little antiquated and certain sequences with the Native Americans are quite cringe-worthy from the point of view of modern sensibilities. Only a couple years ago, when visiting my parents’ house, I finally took down the book Peter Pan from the shelf and decided to give it a read and found it a beautiful although slightly strange and offbeat story. In particular, I was shocked at how nasty and vengeful Tinker Bell was (particularly in trying to get Wendy killed), when I had remembered her as sweet and naive in the movie. It turns out I was wrong about the movie -- Tinker Bell tries to get Wendy killed there also! -- but somehow the tone is moderated well enough that in this version I never really feel horrified at her behavior, nor do I feel disturbed at the situation of the Lost Boys in the way the book made me view them. The song of the lone pirate who sings about how a pirate’s life is short, right before Captain Hook fires his gun and we hear a dropping sound followed by a splash, is one of the more masterful executions of dark humor that I’ve seen in Disney animation for children.

While most of the songs in Peter Pan, considered as songs on their own, are pretty good, I think the best one is the one whose lyrics didn’t make it into the film: “Never Smile at a Crocodile”.

Lady and the Tramp, 1955

Despite being more obscure than most of the old Disney animated classics, I used to know this one quite well since we had it in our home. I’ve always considered The Great Mouse Detective as the most underrated Disney film of all time, but I think it has serious competition here. Lady and the Tramp is an absolute gem. While not quite as Disney-fantasy-ish with its lack of magic and other fairy tale elements, in my opinion Lady and the Tramp is, in most ways, superior to everything else on this list save Mary Poppins. Beautiful animation which shows Lady and most of the other animals moving realistically in a way we haven’t seen since Bambi*. Everything visually and conceptually framed from the dogs’ points of view. Great voice acting. Consistently solid dialog without a single line too much or missing. A story evoking the dynamic between humans and pets, class inequality, and deep questions about the place of each of us in society and choices between a stable existence among loved ones and striking out to seize life by the horns. Our first female lead who stands on her own two four feet and whose sole goal isn’t to get kissed by her true love (one could argue that Alice was the earlier exception, but she is a little girl whereas Lady is actually a romantic female lead). When Lady is approached by her two best (male) friends in a very awkward (perhaps especially from a modern sensibility) but sweet scene where they offer to be her partner, Lady makes it clear that she doesn’t want or need a husband just for the sake of having a husband to make babies with -- her standing up for her own wants in this way doesn’t in the least turn into a Moral Stand that dominates the movie. Excellent music all the way through.

Oh, and this movie was my very first introduction, in early childhood, to the Italian language (”Bella Notte”), which some 25 years later sort became my second language of sorts.

Criticisms? Well, the baby was animated rather stiffly and unnaturally, but that was like half a minute of the movie at most. And there’s the whole segment with the Siamese cats, which produced a great song purely music-wise (fun fact: Peggy Lee provided the voices of the cats) but nowadays comes across as rather racist. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I will say that I’m sure in the minds of the creators this was no different than having animals of all other nationalities (Scottish, Russian, Mexican) appearing in the film with voices reflecting the respective accents.

*There may be a few exceptions, like Peggy, who seems to be modeled after the musician Peggy Lee and moves like a sexy human woman. The way that human sex appeal is conveyed through the animals’ movements in this movie is quite impressive: my mom confesses to having somewhat of a crush on Tramp growing up and not quite understanding how that could be possible when, well, he’s a dog.

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, 1954, and Old Yeller, 1957

I don’t want to say about these movies, as they don’t really fall under the category of animated classics. I just want to say that, while I saw each of them once growing up, on seeing them again I recognize each as a great movie in its own adult point of view way that is not necessarily very Disney-ish.

Sleeping Beauty, 1959

I think this was the movie I was watching at the time I decided it would be fun to write a bunch of mini-reviews for Tumblr, as my reactions were changing a lot as I was watching. I went into the movie very curious, because while I only remembered enough of the fairy tale story to know that it was another of the very simple ones, and I remembered the one song as a waltz by Tchaikovsky, and I knew I had seen the movie once (and probably only once) as a kid, I couldn’t remember anywhere near enough to possibly fill a full movie time. What was actually going to happen in this hour-and-a-quarter long film?

I wasn’t watching long before I came up with the description “spectacularly forgettable”, in part to justify why I’d managed to forget practically all of my one previous viewing. The story doesn’t have much substance and feels sillier than even the other fairy tale Disney plots, like even minor twinges of critical thought, even granting the magical rules of the universe, are liable to make the plot topple. There is some filler to flesh out the movie, but (unlike with Snow White’s dwarfs) none of it is as amusing as the creators seemed to think it was. The only characters with actual personality are rather boring -- the capers between the members of royalty and the jester are a bit on the annoying side in my opinion. Maleficent seems to have no motive whatsoever. She actually calls herself something like “the mistress of evil” later in the movie. This is pretty black-and-white even by Disney standards, where the bad guys usually at least want to think that they’re on the right side of things or justified in their aggressive behavior. Aurora (the title character) has the least personality of all the Disney princesses. Literally all I can say to describe her is that she has the Disney Princess Trifecta of characteristics: she has a good singing voice; she is friends with all the “nice” animals; and her only goal in life is to be reunited with her True Love who she met once for all of a few minutes. The reason why I couldn’t remember any songs other than the Tchaikovsky one is that there aren’t any.

The one thing I consciously really enjoyed while watching was the fact that the score throughout was Tchaikovsky; the idea of having one work of classical music as the entire score seems like a bold one for a Disney film. As I was digesting the movie afterwards (and watching the short documentaries supplied on Disney+ helped here!), I came to realize that this classical music backdrop was complimented in quite an interesting way by a fairly unique animation style. I had been disappointed by the animation early in my watching, disliking how a lot of the figures in the beginning castle scene (for instance, various people’s faces), looked very “flat” somehow. But I’ve come to see this as part of a style where everything looks almost like a series of cut-outs superimposed on each other, to incredibly beautiful effect in a lot of the outdoor scenes.

My conclusion? If you watch this the same way you watch most Disney animated movies -- focusing on plot, characterization, action, and meaning of the main story -- it will just be kind of forgettable at best. But if you watch it as more of a purely visual and musical piece of art without trying to make much “sense” out of it (so, more like I would watch a ballet), you may find it uniquely beautiful among Disney classics.

One Hundred and One Dalmations, 1961

Whew -- what a complete and utter contrast from its predecessor! I can hardly imagine a film that’s still distinctively Disney while being more different from Sleeping Beauty in every aspect.

I remember seeing One Hundred and One Dalmatians a handful of times in childhood (when I was around 5 and it had just come out on home video, my mom almost bought it for me but decided to go with Beauty and the Beast instead explaining that it had better music -- I grew up knowing the preview for Dalmatians that showed at the beginning of our Beauty and the Beast VHS than the dalmatians film itself). I remembered a number of scenes very distinctly, including a lot of the Horace and Jasper bickering and Cruella smashing one of their bottles of beer into the fire and knew Lucky’s line after getting stuck behind in the snow almost word for word, while I had entirely forgotten all of the country/farm characters and entire sequences involving them. I had forgotten, but soon remembered, the television scenes including the Kanine Krunchies jingle. (Some years later, I think as an older teenager, I read the original book with some interest.)

Although I wasn’t around in 1961, everything about this movie’s style strikes me as very contemporary -- the animation in particular seems like the current style for 60′s cartoons. Something about the dialog and humor feels that way as well, as though it closely represents a sort of 60′s young-people-in-London culture that I’ve never seen myself (I was struck for instance by Cruella being asked how she’s doing and cheerfully answering, “Miserable dahling as usual, perfectly wretched!”). It was a little strange and offputting to see television so prominently featured in Disney animation from so long ago, and to see such a decrepit bachelor pad (with the accompanying lifestyle and attitudes) as Horace and Jasper’s in a children’s movie. The crazy driving in snow at the end startled my adult sensibilities (as I now have some memorable experiences driving in snow) in a way that didn’t affect me as a child -- scenes like that just didn’t feel like Disney after having just watched all the previous films. All in all, these novel features made the whole movie a wild ride.

I’m bemused by the fact that, despite taking place in London (which I hadn’t remembered -- I thought it took place in America), the only accents which are fully British are those of the villains Cruella de Vil, Horace, and Jasper.

Main criticisms: I found all the stuff with Rolly being characterized by his body shape and only ever thinking about food to be in poor taste (although not surprising for the times). And while “Cruella de Vil” is a great jazz number, the movie has no other music to speak of -- my mom was quite right to choose Beauty and the Beast over it.

(I realized when finishing this review that this is the only one of all the movies in the list that I’d actually enjoy seeing again sometime soon. Not sure what to make of that. Something about it is more interesting than most of the others? Especially the human-centric parts?)

The Sword in the Stone, 1963

I never saw this movie until later childhood or maybe even early teenagerhood, when I quite liked it. On watching it again, I was overall pretty disappointed. This movie has some decent songs and some fun aspects to the story, but a lot of it is kind of weak and forgettable and it’s all just sloppily done.

The story has a clear moral message which is generally pro-education and about reaching one’s full potential, but in my eyes it comes out kind of muddled because the story shows Wart ending up as a legendary king only out of the arbitrary happenstance that that happens to be his divine destiny. Merlin’s motives seem kind of inconsistent as well, with him sometimes seeming to support Wart in his desire to become a squire, then flying off in a rage when Wart chooses squirehood over fulfilling a “greater” destiny, then joyfully returning after Wart pulls the sword from the stone and is now set on the fixed path to being king, even though this involved exactly zero change of attitude on Wart’s part. The message that actually comes across looks more like, “We have to just follow whatever fate has in store for us” than “We must strive to be the best we can be”. And, it arguably even comes across as subtly disrespectful to more mundane lifestyles and career paths.

The animation is not great by the high standard of full-length Disney features (I noted how I especially disliked how tears were shown). Wart’s voice seems to change a lot, sometimes broken and sometimes not yet broken. I found out after watching that this is because the character was played by three different actors, sometimes with more than one of those actors in the same scene! This was purportedly because the voice of the first actor cast for the role started to change, but then why does Wart sometimes sound like his voice has already changed anyway? Sloppiness all around.

Still, some parts of The Sword in the Stone are fun even if none of it is stellar, and it entertained me more when I was younger, so worth watching once, especially if you’re a kid, I guess?

Mary Poppins, 1964

I came into this one far more familiar with it than with most of the other Disney movies, including the ones I watched many times when I was young, so it feels a little strange to try to summarize a similar-length review of it. Mary Poppins is in my book without a doubt one of the top three Disney movies of all time, in some respects the very best, and certainly the masterpiece of Walt Disney himself, the culmination of literally decades of determination on his part to turn Pamela Travers’ children’s works into a movie. (I would feel sorrier for Travers about how strongly Disney twisted her arm to turn her books into a movie whose style was entirely antithetical to hers, if it weren’t for the fact that the Disney version of the story is just way better than her rather weak set of stories. I give Travers ample credit for having created an amazing character in the person of Mary Poppins, but for coming up with good stories, not so much.)

I didn’t see the full movie Mary Poppins until later childhood (although I knew many of the songs) and it quickly became a favorite of mine. I went a gap of a number of years without seeing it before I copied the soundtrack from someone when I was in college, which spurred me to go out and rent it (back when Blockbuster was a thing) and so I managed to reconnect with it at the age of 20. More recently I’ve become somewhat of a Mary Poppins enthusiast -- feeling pretty alone among my generation in this regard, with the possible exception of the theater subculture -- having seen probably most or all of the documentaries there are on its production and learned a ridiculous amount of trivia about it, not to mention knowing the whole soundtrack pretty much in my head.

Mary Poppins seems to be Disney’s longest children’s classic, at 2 hours and 19 minutes. All it lacks, really, is an animal-themed or classic fairy tale atmosphere and a proper villain. But what can you get out this movie? Stellar child acting (especially for that period) and excellent performances all around, apart from some awkward but endearing aspects of Dick Van Dyke’s acting (while his singing and physicality is superb). A complex and multi-layered story combining magic, comedy and a little tragedy, appreciable in equal measure from a child’s level and from an adult’s level. Revolutionary special effects which include the first extended hybrid live-action and animation sequence. Timeless words and phrases which have permanently entered the lexicon. One of my favorite extended musical sequence of all time in any movie (”Step In Time” takes up 8 minutes and change, and I’m glad they didn’t go with the “common sense” measure of cutting this “unnecessarily long” number). The Sherman brothers at their very best, in a musical soundtrack that easily scores in my top two out of all Disney movies (the other one being The Lion King). A beautiful message (among several big messages) about the little things being important (or at least, that’s a very crude summary), exquisitely encapsulated in the most beautiful song of the movie, “Feed the Birds” (this apparently became Walt Disney’s favorite song ever, and I’m pretty close to feeling the same way -- I’m determined that one day when I finally have a piano I’m going to learn to sing it along with the piano). I could go on and on here.

If I try really hard I can come up with the sole nitpick of feeling that maybe the parrot head on the umbrella’s handle shouldn’t only reveal itself as a talking parrot head in only one scene right at the very end -- this should have been shown at least once earlier. Even granting that, this film is still practically perfect in every way.

The Jungle Book, 1967

(Let’s get the Colonel Hath in the room out of the way first: “The Jungle Book” is a terrible title for a movie. You know, when you base a movie on a book you don’t have to give it the same title as the book...)

I saw The Jungle Book several times as a kid and, despite not considering it nearly as good as Mary Poppins, similarly reconnected with it in adulthood (particularly the soundtrack). Only several years ago I found myself thinking of getting hold of a double album of classic Disney songs that I thought I’d heard about but couldn’t seem to find online. It soon occurred to me that mostly what I really wanted was some of the songs of The Jungle Book, so I got that movie’s soundtrack instead. I soon learned for the first time that The Jungle Book’s songs were written by the Sherman Brothers*, precipitating an “Ah, that explains why I remember them as so good!” moment. (“I Wanna Be Like You” seems like the clear winner among the songs.) Of course hearing the soundtrack made me curious about the movie, which I did eventually get hold of several years ago; thus I had seen this film exactly once already since childhood.

It says a lot about the music and the overall technique behind this film that I still look back on it as one of the great classics, considering how weak the story is. In particular, I consider a story arc to be pretty flawed when characters that seem significant and/or memorable come in without really living up to their expected big role: the wolves who raised Mowgli play a crucial role in the beginning before more or less disappearing (and it doesn’t entirely make sense to me why Bagheera, rather than they, is guiding him to the man village), and King Louie (who is a well-formed character that I particularly enjoy watching) really ought to come back into the story later somehow (an alternate, and much more complex, ending had him make a reappearance). The villain Shere Khan is not especially well developed in terms of his character and motives, but I do enjoy his menacingly bass voice. Still, the voice acting, the action, the animation, and the overall setting are all very solid here.

I’ll end with some random observations about the song “That’s What Friends Are For”. I think the likeness of the vultures to the Beatles was mostly lost on me as a kid (along with the recognition that this movie came out in the Beatles’ heyday). More interestingly, even when I was old enough to understand how vultures eat, the fact that every single line of the song is a clever macabre double-entendre went completely over my head. I do think it was a very obvious mistake, by the Obvious Standards of Cinematography, to give Shere Khan the last line of the song and begin that line with the “camera” on him, rather than have his voice come in “off-camera” and Mowgli and the vultures looking thunderstruck before panning to him, but maybe I shouldn’t be pushing for overdone techniques here.

* An exception is “Bare Necessities”, which was written by Terry Gilkyson, the original songwriter Disney received submissions from, who wrote two hauntingly beautiful other numbers which were deemed not Disney-ish enough to be put in the film.

Some general stray observations:

These older Disney films love gags involving alcoholism and drunkenness, a bit of a questionable emphasis given that the audience is children. This trend continues into the 80′s at least, but I don’t think one sees it much in modern Disney movies.

Watching these animated films I often find myself flinching as characters’ heads smash into things or gigantic objects smash over their heads, feeling almost surprised when they come out of it pretty much fine. I guess this a staple element of cartoon action throughout the decades, but I can’t recall a more recent Disney animated film where we see this (guess I’ll soon find out!)

There is a certain style of vocal music, with unified rhythm and lyrics but complex harmony and a capella, which seems to have been immensely popular in the 40′s and 50′s and distinctively appears in practically every single one of the 40′s and 50′s films above (“You Can Fly” is a typical example). I recognize it also from some non-Disney-related old records my parents have that were passed down to them. I’m curious about whether this style has a name.

For years I thought the Sherman Brothers did only the soundtrack for Mary Poppins and Bedknobs and Broomsticks, only discovering they did The Jungle Book songs rather recently as I explained above. It turns out they were involved in most of the major Disney films around that period, including The Sword in the Stone and The Aristocats (although not its best-known number “Everybody Wants to Be a Cat”).

There is a particularly sad instrumental passage, played by the string section starting with a minor-key violin melody going downward and joined by lower string instruments, which I knew well from my Jungle Book soundtrack (partway through “Poor Bear”) but was surprised to hear in desperately sad moments of several of the other movies around that time (including One Hundred and One Dalmatians and Robin Hood, or at least a close variant of this passage with slightly different endings). I have no idea who wrote this or how it came to be reused so many times.

I knew the name Bruce Reitherman as the voice of Mowgli in The Jungle Book, but in watching all of these other features back to back I’ve noticed that there are some other Reithermans in the front credits of quite a few of them.

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frncs · 4 years ago

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⌠ ERIC OSBORNE, 21, NON-BINARY, HE/THEY ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, FRANCES ‘FRANK’ LAVOIE! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in MACGYVER SURVIVAL SKILLS AND NAVIGATION & COVERT OPS; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of oversized clothing stitched with thick yarn and littered with cat hair, the snap of stretched balloons before they’re blown and a post-nap dazed gaze. when it’s the (virgo)’s birthday on 09/01/1999, they always request CORN DOGS from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ tasha, 22, she/her, est ⍀

well well well .. id meant to bring another kid ages ago .. n then jus didn’t because the personality part was/is givin me grief FGJH so pls 🐻 w me n replies as i figure out his voice . also .. haven’t even written out my intro yet . . bt ik it’s gna be long apologies , pls feel free to just read the tldr

tw: death, accidental murder, grief.

TLDR: grew up fairly well off to spy parents who didn’t want him to be part of that world but apart from that didn’t care what he did with his life otherwise. he often questioned whether they really cared for him at all (tht quote thts like .. if u love me u love me in a way i cant understand). luna’s his best friend, and he’s obsessed with his aunt and uncle’s circus that stops into town every year. life is pretty great until luna ‘dies’ at 16. he joins the circus and becomes a clown, he loves performing with all his heart. at 18, his aunt and uncle arm him with a credit card and tell him to go travel, he assumes it’s because they just want him to explore the world. visits europe for six months and asia for six months, enjoys it but misses the circus terribly, busks a lot. they actually send him away to distance him from the shady happenings that are starting to boil within the company. he comes back in time for the halloween switch-a-roo, where everyone rotates their act (so he does the magic show as a clown). he’s part of a set-up that results in him accidentally killing a person and sawing them in half. his aunt and uncle call his parents, who reluctantly send him to prep school for a little less than a year to heighten his chances of getting into a spy school for protection, which he does. dedicated to working hard and getting a high paying job to pay for reparations for the circus and do a massive overhaul of the way it runs, because it’s like his second home.

grew up in waterford ct, to one retired spy parent ( his mom ) and his dad who works with the government and is aware of espionage. his mom straight up didn’t have a good time, no one really talks about it, he has no idea what happened, doesn’t know if his dad knows either but it’s clear that they don’t want him going into the spy world.

he feels like he’s always been treated like an adult for as long as he remembers, not in the sense that they burdened him with responsibility, but that they didn’t seem to care what he did one way or another. the best way i can describe it is that his parents had the same energy as a character in a yorgos lanthimos film, very dry and lifeless, like they’re on autopilot. he’d try and cuddle his mom and she’d just pat him on the head. he couldn’t really rebel against them and as long as he went to school and got good grades they appeared un-phased about what he got up to, a very mind your own business dynamic shared between family.

he didn’t get up to a whole lot, he was a bit of an outsider. didn’t make friends very easily because he didn’t know how to let himself go around people, even though he’d sometimes be excited but wouldn’t know how to show it. definitely had that reserved temperament ingrained into him from his parents.

he did have one friend who knew him inside and out, luna <3 who was also his neighbour. their demeanours were a perfect match but also he’d find himself getting so excited and wanting to tell her about his day or listen to hers, or read with her or play hopscotch or send her secret notes with his flashlight at her window.

there was one other thing that got him terribly excited and it’s when his aunt and uncle’s traveling circus would stop in. he’d go every single day for the week and a half it was there. his parents would arrange one dinner with them and consider their familial duty done, other than that they remain out of contact with them. his aunt and uncle tell him that he’s always welcome to join, and he holds them to it. his parents say do whatever you want, just graduate high school first.

his whole world kinda crumbles when luna ‘dies’ at sixteen. he feels immense guilt over it thinking he should’ve done something about that skeevy bf of hers...this also coincides with one of his mom’s friends dying (harlowe’s mom) which makes his mom act even weirder so he fast tracks his plans to join the circus and joins at sixteen, doesn’t graduate high school. i envision the convo btw him and his dad went like:

“dad, i’m joining the circus.”

“graduate high school first.”

“no.”

“okay son, i can’t control you.”

the company welcomed him with open arms and he tried out everything, acrobatics, sharpshooting, but wasn’t particularly talented at anything. except, clownery. because messing up is commended, noting how all the kids would laugh at him trying basic magic tricks. so his aunt and uncle got him into a clown costume lickety-split. performing brought him a lot of joy through the grief like he’s an entirely different person when performing, insert that one cursed joker picture: put on a happy face.

because the owners were his aunt and uncle he was treated exceptionally well and he was very oblivious to the malpractice that went on behind the scenes. the circus had a whole sector dedicated to pickpocketing (other kids who he just saw as friends were often runaways from broken homes who didn’t have anywhere else to go and earned their wages by stealing from customers), and serious kerfuffle with pay, probably some extortion going on, just general yuckery. he vaguely knew it was happening but was kind of like it is what it is kinda standpoint. heavily inspired by the circus barney and clint barton grew up in reffed in the 2015 run of all-new hawkeye.

a couple years later his aunt and uncle give him a credit card and tell him to go travel for a bit. he does because why not but misses the circus terribly. he spends six months in europe and six months in asia, busks as a clown a lot and but his on-the-road/home sickness never really fades.

he returns super excited, ready to clown around but it’s evident tensions are just really high between the workers but they’re still all super sweet to him because he’s very sweet even if he’s oblivious. halloween comes around which is his favourite time of year because they do this thing called the switch-a-roo, where everyone switches what act they’re doing, bicycle acts do contortionist acts, lion tamers do rope walkers, magicians do animal taming and clowns do magic acts. it’s just one big laugh because obviously most of them are cross-trained, but it’s meant to be more of a comedy thing and their mess-ups are to an extent choreographed but also capitalizes on the scariness because they hype up the fact that they have no idea what they’re doing.

he’s doing his magic act, messing up all the magic tricks showing all his cards, and his last act is the sawing someone in half, so the assistant comes out in the box, really selling it like omg a clown !!! being like stop !!! you don’t know what you’re doing !!! and frances is like playing along with the act, as he was told that the gag would be when they split the boxes they’ll have some practical effects to make it look like he’d accidentally actually cut the assistant in half. fumbling with a very real chainsaw, he does the choppity-chop which takes a bit more muscle than he thought it would and the assistant screams a lot then pretends to pass out. anyways it wasn’t an act he accidentally cut someone in half, and they die.

EXTRA CLOWN LORE THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT FEEL FREE TO SKIP!

i envisioned that worker negotiations had been going on for a while and had kinda reached a stalemate where nothing was happening, and there were rumblings about frances being off travelling and spending a shit ton of money where it could’ve been put towards the workers and the circus and his aunt and uncle would hear threats thrown towards frances which is why they wanted him to stay away/go travelling for a while. the girl who was killed did so knowingly, and died a martyr (and also left frances a note explaining things and how she was sorry that he was the one that had to kill her). the whole thing was executed with a lot of thought: how it would affect frances and how it would be seen as a personal attack against his aunt and uncle - and that while the act seemingly went off without a hitch and the public didn’t suspect a thing, the workers have leverage to make it public (which ideally they don’t want b/c a lot of the workers are pretty disenfranchised or have criminal records and truthfully don’t want the end all being the circus closing b/c they do love their job just not the conditions). his aunt an uncle are in a bit of a jam because they need an investor but can’t get that because of shady hiring practices in the first place, and their greed definitely exacerbated the problem.

after that happens his aunt and uncle immediately call his parents, who despite never wanting him to go into the spy industry believe that it would be the safest option for him, and enrol him in prep school (which he attends for less than a year) so that he has more of a chance getting into gallagher the following year, which, with the right strings pulled happens.

now he’s dedicated to giving it his all so he can get a really high paying job and do a complete overhaul of the company and make a lot of reparations that should’ve been made years and years ago.

personality

- very patient, a slow talker and more of a listener. - idealistic, in the sense that he’s always been surrounded by people either in poverty of vulnerable, and despite being a caring guy, adopted that kind of mind your own business mentality his parents had. even his desire to get rich in order to save the circus is a very unrealistic plan or at the very least would take a very long time to achieve. - tired, i know it’s not a personality trait but i’m making it one, he’s a little bit dazed, not gloomy per se but like he’s woken up from a nap and needs to warm up a bit before being a functioning part of society. but that’s like all his interactions. has the gait of like a drunken kung fu master, very limber.

headcanons

has slight imposter syndrome about clowning, knows he’s great and always got a standing ovation but can’t help but wonder how much nepotism played a role in her being the main clown in the company.

planning on hiding out in her room during halloween, but is very bittersweet about it, because he thinks that halloween is one of the only times that people are happy because they get to be anyone they want and has found that most people don’t want to be themselves.

has an overweight, old cat which he’s had since he joined the circus and has been everywhere with him. it’s name is cat. he also has an album on his phone of all the strays he’s ever met, which is a lot being on the road. he named all of them but they never got to come with him.

sleeps a lot, probably has some sort of chronic sleep disorder, but enjoys the sweet release from life so he doesn’t question it. has no shame and will sleep anywhere and does.

loves making balloon animals, was his favourite thing to do at the circus. keeps a jewelry dish full of unpumped balloons on his bedside table. also a big reader, and hoarder of anything that can fit in a small travel notebook (leaves, ticket stubs, pictures, anything).

wanted connections: i’ll update my actual google docs in the coming days but people he met while traveling for a year, anyone with pets wanting to have a pet playdate (cat’s not too active but he could use some company), someone who catches him crying (he cries a lot haven’t peeped his full chart but i can sense the water energy from miles away), people who wake him up when he falls asleep in class, in the common rooms, outside, flirty flirts, someone who’s been to the circus, someone who clowns him about being a clown and he gets super angry, really anything, i’m terrible at coming up with connections i get such a thrill from mundane relations i’m boring <3

#gallagher:intro #smoking cw #my head is Empty i rly have no thots to terrorize u w/ in the tags . sad

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noramoya · 4 years ago

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THIS ARE SOME EXERPTS FROM THIS SOO SPECIAL BOOK, WRITTEN IN A SIMPLE WAY BY GLORIA RHOADS BERLIN, THE PERSON WHO HELPED MJ TO FIND HIS “NEVERLAND”... READING ON TWITTER THAT NEVERLAND WAS SOLD, MADE ME GO BACK TO THIS BOOK, WHICH I READ SADLY SOBBING ...

“I received an act of kindness a few months back. I was waiting on this book and it sold within minutes! After a quick exchange about the book and our realization that it was Kim Franks Sinclair who bought the book that I was waiting on, she sent it to me after she read it as a gift 🥰 I finally got to this book since the sale and want to share a few excerpts from “IN SEARCH OF NEVERLAND”... — Tammy Lynn Gauthier to Kim Franks Sinclair ...

“What I know that other people may not know is that Michael Jackson was extremely spiritual and religious. It was on this very same day that Michael shared the most intimate side of his life with me as we walked holding hands over gurgling creeks, rocks and logs sometimes leaping instead of just walking. When we sat down to rest for a few minutes, Michael turned around with his head bowed in prayer and asked me, “Gloria will you please recite the Lord’s Prayer with me?” While everyone else was racing around asking several questions of the ranch manager, we sat quietly and prayed. We prayed together over each structure on the property.

On the second day we woke up at the ranch, it was as if Michael had awakened in Las Vegas. He started talking about the placement of the merry-go-round and where the Ferris wheel would go. And the horses, he could have real horses for kids to ride. There would be a special Disneyland-style train traveling around the ranch because some of them would not be able to walk or run. The children certainly couldn’t go throughout the entire ranch on foot, since there’s quite a lot of walking to a 2,700 acre ranch. Michael was placing these luxurious rides aloud.

During our stay at the ranch, Michael was bubbling over, like a volcano full of energy, with dreams and plans as to what he was going to do with the place. He talked about how he was going to make it into a sanctuary for children in need, for his beloved animals, and for himself. Michael felt he should build special cages for animals and hire animal keepers to protect them. It was important the animals be treated according to their specific needs.

On the third day, Michael and I were walking around the ranch when he decided to hug a tree, and to jump around and leap up over different plants and fences. He was really wonderful and should have been an acrobat. He was so full of energy – always singing and dancing around. As he danced around me, he asked me to close my eyes, and I did as he asked. “Now”, he said “try to imagine the most beautiful circus you’ve ever attended and the most beautiful park and animal zoo. Try to picture it and describe it to me. Tell me what I ought to do and how I should begin all of this.” I said, “Michael, I don’t have the same imagination you have. I would have to sit down and draw something and try to figure it out like a crossword puzzle. I’m not as agile as you. I’m thinking about the practicality of your owning such a large place by yourself with all of the expenses involved, every cage and everything you want do costs tons of money.” Michael answered, “Gloria please don’t think about money. The Lord will provide. I know the Lord will provide. You have to believe that the Lord will bring us everything that we need. And it’s not so wild to think about having animals for healing, and it’s not so wild about creating a sanctuary for animals, and a beautiful paradise for children who are healthy and children who are unhealthy and, otherwise, might never have the privilege of being on this ranch. I really want to do this, Gloria.

The whole week that we were to spend at the ranch went too fast for me. I savoured every moment and cherished Michael’s thoughts. “Michael, why do you like animals so much?” Michael answered, “Because they are healing and they’re God’s creatures. They’re even in the Bible. I can recite for you Palm 148 that says, “Little wild animals and small creatures and flying birds praise the Lord” We must praise the Lord just like the animals do in the wild.”

“That’s wonderful Michael” I said,”There was always a Bible in my rooms when I traveled around the world,” Michael continued, “Sometimes I felt awfully lonely. Bill Bray felt compelled to lock me in my room for safety and not let me out of my room or let me go down the street by myself. I wanted to do this on so many occasions” “Oh well I think it’s great he tries to protect you so much.” I asked him, “Michael, why do you like children so much?” He said, “It’s rare that I get to be around children, Gloria. Whenever I see babies’ faces I see God shining in their eyes. I’m usually with adults or teenagers who come to my concerts. I come from a large family but I don’t know if I will be able to have children of my own. I just want to make it a paradise for myself and for children. I just want to share life’s pleasures with them."Michael grew pensive, then quietly began to share some of his career moments with me. “My most successful years have been the loneliest ones. I’m surrounded with thousands of colorful, wonderful people all around the world but there is no one special person for me. Sometimes I feel extremely lonely. The concerts are fantastic but after, I’m always alone.” That is what Michael told me. “Gloria, I feel like I’m dancing on a high wire in the circus big top without a net below. There’s no one there, no net, and I have to give my very best and stay on that high wire to make it more successful from one country to another.” I was astonished that he was baring his own heart. Compassionately, I threw my arms around Michael and hugged and hugged him until he gave a deep sigh.

Michael found a new glorious paradise at Neverland, where he was content to be, away from the crowds and the hustle and bustle of the cities, and the ranch was transformed through the force of Michael’s superb imagination. He created his own colorful-beautiful- rainbows over the 6 ½ acre man made lake. He acquired several tall water bird fountains and put coloured lights around the perimeters of the lake. One can enjoy all the colors of the rainbow through his creative innovations, yellow, blue, green, red, purple, pink with the water fountains shooting upward into the centre of the sparkling lake. Beautiful swans, too, could be seen swimming around the perimeter of the lake.

He had a special infirmary build at the ranch where the sick children could be treated. When Michael charted buses to bring in guests from Los Angeles, he often played music in buses or hired musicians to provide entertainment for the passengers. Michael Jackson embraced the whole world with the love he felt for all of his fans, when he invited them inside Neverland. When I think of Michael, I know he is looking down from heaven, where he is forever dancing and singing on God’s rainbows. There are many never before told true stories of hope and inspiration that I could share with you. His intentions were for Neverland to become a paradise for all the children of the world and his spirit will live there forever.”

— Gloria Rhonda Berlin.

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deliciousmeta · 5 years ago

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According to halacha, which actions is Azula liable for?

One of my favorite ways to study Jewish texts is to take a fictional character or situation and examine it through the lens of Jewish text and tradition.

I’ve done this before with ABC’s Once Upon A Time. Now I’m going to take up this exercise again with Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Before I begin, a few things to keep in mind.

I’m not a Talmud scholar.

There is no definitive Jewish Opinion™ about any issue pertaining to halacha. Unanimous opinions on halacha are so rare that when we find one, we assume something went wrong in the process..

Nevertheless, she’s incredibly interesting, and studying Jewish text is fun, so here we are.

Why examine Azula’s actions through the lens of halacha?

Before we can launch into examining the halachic ramifications of the things Azula does, we need to establish some boundaries.

Now, let’s begin.

Is Azula bound by halacha?

What is Azula’s legal status?

In any case, we know the rules, and now we have to decide whether Azula broke them or not, right?

Not so fast.

Clear your mind of the idea that being an adult is the same as being a grownup. Instead, think of it as a term that defines when people can make legally binding decisions.

As far as I can tell, the Talmud doesn’t say when a gentile becomes an adult. However, we can use halacha as a guide.

Now for a warning.

If you skipped that last part, it’s safe to continue now.

OK, we’ve established that flashback!Azula is too young for her actions to be legally binding, but in the main story, Azula is legally an adult and responsible for her actions.

We good? Alright.

Which Noahide laws does Azula actually break?

This is both easier and harder than it seems.

That leaves the prohibitions against bloodshed, robbery and eating a limb cut from a living animal.

First up: bloodshed.

The connotation of the prohibition against bloodshed is not for general acts of violence, but actual murder.

Second: robbery.

We’ll come back to that.

Third: eating a limb from a living animal.

This prohibition is often expanded to incorporate all forms of animal cruelty.

The show does portray animal cruelty. We see a prime example with the circus in “Appa’s Lost Days.”

How does her behavior measure up? Despite her earlier behavior of terrorizing turtleducks, Azula does not harm either Appa or Bosco.

On the show, Mai and Ty Lee are seen spending time with Bosco in the throne room while the Earth King is imprisoned. So, at the very least, they treat the bear well.

So, Azula is not liable for animal cruelty.

*hands Azula her Not As Big A Jerk As She Could Have Been award*

Now, let’s revisit that prohibition against robbery.

This one might have some legs. On the show, does Azula take the rightful property of another, and does she use violent means to do so?

Absolutely.

A major example is stealing the clothes of the Kyoshi Warriors after defeating them in combat.

But!

So, back to the original question: which actions does Azula commit during the show that she’s halachically liable for?

The answer, shockingly, may be: none.

#azula #azula meta #jewish meta #atla meta

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meditativeyoga · 5 years ago

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The secret to effortless living

There was a time when survival for a human being indicated food as well as sanctuary. Today, food as well as sanctuary are obtaining a growing number of challenging as well as pricey. It is great to have all those things however they ought to not become the determining variables of your life. What kind of food you consume, what type of clothes you wear, what type of residence you reside in-- each one organises these points inning accordance with his capacity but they should not come to be restricting elements, they are just the sustaining variables of your life. Whether you travelled from your the home of your office on foot or on a bicycle or in a Maruti or a Mercedes, it is simply a concern of different individuals's monetary capacities, choice as well as opportunity.

The important thing is you arrived, the ways of traveling is only incidental. This is real with every element of your life. However the incidental variables have taken on such sensational relevance that the fundamental feature of life has been completely forgotten. The process has come to be a lot more vital compared to the genuine thing. We are attempting to graduate from one material point to another due to the fact that our company believe that is happiness.

Don't follow the herd

It is in pursuit of happiness that you do the whole circus in your life. Different people could have various concepts about the best ways to arrive, but everyone remains in pursuit of happiness. The human race has actually been doing so much to achieve happiness and also wellness on this world that in this quest, we are damaging the extremely world on which we live. We must first recognize exactly what our idea of wealth is. Is it simply around more buildings, even more equipments, more cars and trucks, more ... everything?

If I go to the West as well as ask them, "Why don't you practice meditation?" the usual antiphon is, "Oh but we have actually reached pay bills." I claim, "Why do you individuals create a lot of expenses? If your whole life has to do with paying costs, why generate them? You can stop on your own and live even more pleasantly, isn't really it? To pay those costs, you are simply functioning endlessly. What's the factor?" The solution usually is, "everybody is doing it." No matter, they are all driven by someone else. You do not attempt to do exactly what somebody else does. When it involves outdoors circumstances, we have actually not included equivalent abilities. No two human beings are made with the same level of ability. There perhaps someone who can do a thousand points in a day without experiencing or being emphasized. Possibly you could do only three things in a day, it's okay.

Limit juggling to what you can

Life puts us in several situations where handling things is like balancing. Being in the family members is a big balancing procedure. Keep your feelings aside as well as simply consider it sincerely. Our lives have numerous complicated activities. We have different sorts of connections and also different degrees of involvement with different kinds of individuals on a daily basis. We are frequently changing from one kind of relationship to one more. Possibly you were just handling with two balls as well as it was rather simple.

Then you selected up more spheres as well as the juggling came to be challenging. When you wish to use up more task, there will be extra managing. You can not help it, that's the means it is. So when you require to juggling, you had better develop some skill. Otherwise, the spheres will be spread all over the location and you will be going crazy each day since you cannot hold things in area. Exactly how efficiently you carry your life just depends on the level of proficiency you have over juggling. This minute you might get on the phone with your business companion as well as the next minute you could be speaking with your spouse or your youngster. Life resembles this, it is continuously shifting. You can't simply tune on your own: "Ok, today I am going to resemble this." So, due to the complexity of this modification, if you occur to treat your wife like you treat your organisation companion, quickly you will remain in trouble. Or if you treat your business partner like your wife, you will certainly remain in problem, isn't really it?

So prior to we enter any situation, you need to check out your ability to manage. "Can I juggle all this and still enjoy or will I get shed when juggling?" If you are very little of a juggler, you much better continue to be alone as well as manage on your own. Every little thing includes a certain discomfort and satisfaction. There is a cost to pay in every aspect of life.

So prior to handling anything in your life, you must ask yourself: are you ready to pay the price? Every person needs to choose just how much of exactly what is right for him. Your neighbour may have a 100-bedroom house-- maybe he wants to reside in a hotel. For yourself, you must decide just how much you require. You do not do things like him. This is the greatest problem, we are attempting to do things like someone else. That's the wrong method to come close to life. We have to decide what does it cost? of exactly what we must carry out in our lives-- just how much outside task or internal wellness or social wellbeing would certainly maintain our life balanced without spoiling us and also the ambience around us. Unfortunately, such knowledge is missing out on in the world, we are just going widespread. It is crazy the method we are going due to the fact that the sort of lifestyle the globe has selected is simply not sustainable.

Don't die surviving

Today, if you have adequate loan, you could enter into a store and get every little thing that you need for a whole year. It has never ever resembled that on this world. Survival has constantly been a wonderful struggle. Today, for the initial time, the survival procedure has actually ended up being absolutely arranged. Currently is the moment to find expression to further measurements of being a human. The majority of individuals select to complicate their survival. We still do not seem to be do with survival. We wish to make the survival process so complicated that we will certainly spend the remainder of our life defending survival.

It is essential that you streamline your survival process to ensure that the further dimensions of that you are find expression in your life. It is incredibly essential that you find out exactly what it means to just sit below and also reverberate as an item of life since that is the supreme ecstasy of being below. And also now that our survival is typically cared for, I assume we should trigger a wave of bliss any place we go. As well as because we do not do that, we wrap up that a human being ways being an unpleasant, ineffective 'absolutely nothing'.

When you utilize the expression, "Oh, I'm simply human," it indicates, "I'm just powerless nonsense." We require to change the context of what it indicates to be human. When someone claims, "I'm human" he has to suggest "I'm delighted. I can wonderful things within myself." We've decided to make a human being right into a miserable worm who simply defend his survival throughout his life. We are capable of arranging our survival as if we don't have to have a hard time for survival every day-- unless we make complex the survival process.

For most people, the survival process itself is ending up being a full time job. Simply to work, to reproduce and to die one day, exactly what a fuss they make! Also a worm as well as an insect with their minute brains handle their survival rather well. Nature has actually offered every human considerable intelligence to care for his and also his offspring's survival. You are simply exaggerating it.

Stop clinging

A while earlier, I had a major squirrel problem in your home. The mommy squirrel brought to life 4 children. 3 of them got consumed yet the mommy doted upon the last one. She would watch her child go throughout my points, biting into everything. Here was a mom that was excited for her kid to discover its squirrel business as quickly as feasible, she intended to be complimentary of him as soon as feasible. Sadly, most human moms and dads don't have this sense. They want their youngsters to find out the human service as slowly as possible due to the fact that they don't have a life of their very own. They obtain some life just by hanging on to their kids. Which's the reason there is so much juggling. People declare to be one of the most intelligent varieties. Our youngsters should be totally free of their moms and dads a lot quicker than anyone else, isn't really it? Yet that does not occur due to the fact that we look at our youngsters as a funding based upon which we could live our future lives-- when we are alive as well as likewise after we are dead. It is as a result of this that the juggling appears so much of a headache, not or else. Family is not the issue, your personal insecurity and also your very own 'desire' to stick to things around you is the actual problem.

Don' t do anything for fulfilment

Human life does not finish with survival, it begins only when survival is looked after. If we had concerned this planet like any various other animal, then eating, sleeping, replicating and dying someday would certainly have been a complete procedure on its own. Also as a human you should do all these points. Somehow for human beings life doesn't seem to be fulfilled with them. Whatever activity you could have executed, life has not attained fulfilment. In every stage of your life you believe, "If this takes place, my life will certainly end up being total." As a child you believed, "If I obtain this plaything, my life will certainly be full." You obtained it but after 3 days, you threw it away. Life did not acquire fulfilment.

Then you believed that if you complete your education and learning, life would certainly be full. That also taken place but there was no fulfilment. Then you began to think, "Exactly what's the usage of functioning like a donkey? If only I get wed to that man or woman I enjoy, my life would certainly be made." That occurred and after that you know just what happened.

Fulfilment does not come since of some activity you do. Just if your frame of mind is complete, will certainly your life acquire fulfilment. Now, the human condition is such that without knowing anything regarding the nature of his presence, you are attempting to make a living and in some way pass via the globe. Your body, mind, emotion and also energies are the automobiles with which you travel with your life. Without any kind of understanding, control or subjective experience concerning them, you are attempting to live your life. This is an unexpected existence. When you exist mistakenly, even if you procure someplace in life, it will just be by accident. So, when a person is experiencing his whole life in an accidental way, experiencing anxiousness, concern and battle is all-natural. We go about stating, "Life is a battle." Life is not a struggle.

Get a grip on yourself

You are obtaining emphasized out merely due to the fact that you have no idea the best ways to function smoothly within on your own. You have no control over your own system. If your mind, body as well as powers were taking guidelines from you and also behaving the way you wanted them to, you wouldn't get worried no issue what was occurring around you. You should do something about this. If this does not occur, you will certainly continue living life by accident and also always be really hoping that circumstances function out.

If you are looking for to increase the range and also play of your life, if you are seeking challenging circumstances, then you need to do something concerning the way you function. Challenging scenarios suggest that you will face scenarios that you have no hint around. If you are the kind that obtains stressed out, normally you will certainly prevent those situations.

When you prevent those scenarios, you will naturally avoid all feasible growth for yourself. Today, so several people are getting into challenging tasks and are multi-tasking, however a large number of them could not be naturally outfitted to deal with such situations. This is why we see so lots of individuals losing their performance and simply damaging up while seeking their occupations-- surrendering to burnouts.

If you are regularly looking for obstacles in your life, and also you don't equip yourself with an internal security as well as an internal feeling of pleasure within on your own by your very own nature, you are bound to become a calamity over a duration of time. You could achieve success in your job however as a human you would have stopped working because you could not enjoy the procedure of life. Such individuals are not cheerful or serene, they have actually come to be stressful. If you are difficult, that implies somehow you have failed yourself, isn't really it?

When you tweak yourself to such a factor that the fundamental professors operate so wonderfully within you, then normally the most effective of your abilities will certainly simply drain of you. If you really intend to bring high quality into your life as well as to perpetuate that quality right into life around you, the most importantly thing that you have to do is to establish your internal truths in a certain way with a particular security. Just what is within you-- your mind, your feelings and your system need to not experience upheavals when facing the challenges of life. Just when there are no inner turmoils as well as concerns can you handle the outdoors problems well.

Take the first step

So exists a method to produce an internal circumstance? Yes. As there is a science and also technology to developing outside situations the way we desire them, we have an entire scientific research as well as technology to produce inner situations the method we want them. As we have engineered the globe, we can additionally engineer our interiority. Without it, we end up operating by accident.

The firstly action that every person ought to take is: furnish on your own making on your own the means you intend to be. If this occurs, creating the exterior will become easy. You inform me, when can you utilize your body and mind well? When you are pleased or dissatisfied? When you more than happy you can effortlessly handle points, yet when you are stressed out or dissatisfied, the very same little points freak you out. If you are joyful, increasing a hill is also effortless, right? It could take a great deal of exertion, however you feel it's easy since you are doing it happily. When you are doing it joylessly, every little thing is difficult. When you are doing it happily, everything is effortless.

Effortless does not imply resting on a sofa. When I say simple and easy, I am stating, as soon as you get involved in a particular state of pleasantness within on your own, as soon as you are joyous by your very own nature, every little thing is easy. When you are satisfied, you agree to playing around and do everything since you do not feel the initiative of it. Effortlessness does not imply lethargy, ease indicates that in your experience, it's not burdensome.

Once a person is at simplicity within himself, normally he functions at his ideal. Bringing this sense of ease, bringing this feeling of effortlessness within you is essential. If you truly want to boost the high quality of your life, you have to take this step and also be willing to spend a little bit of time for your inner health and wellbeing. If this is done, you will see a remarkable change in the means you work. The necessary innovation is there-- I call it Internal Engineering, the optimal of wellbeing.

Inner Design is simply this, that you craft your interiority to make sure that you operate effortlessly within on your own. This does not indicate you stay clear of challenging scenarios. When you are uncomplicated within you, you seek them. Inner Design implies you discover exactly how to perform this piece of life. If you know just how to conduct it, after that inning accordance with your ability, you can additionally conduct the outside effortlessly.

If your health and wellbeing is constantly under hazard, you will certainly not take care of the outdoors well. If you intend to manage every little thing well outside, if you wish to achieve success in your life, you must simply discover exactly how to utilize these 4 limbs and a few mind cells, that's all that's needed. Just how vivid and also focused your mind is, how vivid and healthy your body is, that's just what decides just how successful you are.

#healing #meditation #Yoga #yoga retreat

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fandomssmoothie · 5 years ago

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Saeranweek Day 3: School Life

Hi, everyone! Here is our piece for this year’s @saeranchoiweek !!! As always it was a joy writing together and for such sweet boy!

Our boy goes to college!!

Enjoy~

Botany 3B: Saeran x MC

He can hear his brother’s laugh from outside and regretfully makes his way to Botany 3B. As soon as he steps inside, Saeyoung shares his name with the classroom and the rest of the campus.

“Baby bro!! I was keeping your chair warm, c’mere, you adorable you!!”

Saeran dodges his brother’s embrace and Saeyoung wraps his arms around himself.

“Go to your class.” Saeran says sitting down.

“Yes yes, I just wanted to see you, I missed you~”

“We have the next class together. Now go before you’re late.”

“Okay, see you later, baby bro!” Saeyoung runs to the door but before exiting turns, winks and blows a kiss to Saeran.

He feels his eyes roll all the way to the back of his head until a sound, a melody he’s been getting used to, brings him back to reality… or is it a dream?

She laughs at the joke her friend made before the other girl waves goodbye and runs off to her own class. MC grips the books closer to her chest as she turns to the room and makes her way to her usual seat. Not surprisingly, her seatmate is already there; she just saw his twin dashing out of the room seconds before, after all.

Saeran looks as handsome as ever, and she feels her heart drumming faster against her chest. It’s uncanny how one person can make her feel so happy without even having to say anything. She takes her seat beside him and puts down her books before giving him a big smile.

“Hi, Saeran.”

His lips curl up just a bit. He could say ‘hi’, ‘hello’, ‘good morning’, ‘good day’, he could say a million things but when he sees that smile all the words in his mind jump around and he isn’t able to grasp a proper phrase.

Mr. Gim walks into the class and all chatter quiets down.

MC bites her lower lip to keep herself from smiling broadly; he’s too cute. But she tucks her hair behind her ear and looks forward, trying not to get too distracted by the guy sitting beside her. Class passes by in a blur, and by the end of it her notebook is full of doodles of plants. As the professor leaves, she starts gathering her things. MC glances at Saeran, not wanting to let the opportunity slip by her like she did the other classes they had this week…and last week…and the week before that.

“Saeran,” she starts. “Have you heard about the dance this weekend?”

He’s putting his books inside his bag when he looks at her. “I have, my brother won’t let me forget about it.”

Both of them walk out of the classroom, Saeran doesn’t notice he’s walking in the wrong direction. He can’t help it, he likes talking to this girl. He can’t lie to himself, he likes this girl.

“Oh! That’s right, Saeyoung signed up to be the DJ, right? I didn’t know he was into that. But I have to say, I’m curious as to what songs he’ll play! He’s always humming a song about someone named ‘Elly’ when I pass by him in the hallway…I’m not sure what genre he’s into.” She’s babbling, she knows she’s babbling, but she can’t help it. She wants to keep talking to him, even if it’s nonsense, she wants to keep being with Saeran.

Saeran chuckles, she’s cute when she babbles. “You can say my brother is in love with… I guess he’ll never be with the one he loves. But he can be persistent, who knows? Maybe he’ll be able to.”

MC is the only girl he feels comfortable enough to talk about his brother without calling him an idiot that much.

MC laughs. “Me too. Saeyoung is a nice guy, I hope he gets his Elly!” Her fingers tighten around her books again, nervous for what she’s about to ask him. “But about the dance…are you going?”

Please say yes, please say yes.

“I have to,” he sighs, “I was appointed equipment manager… are you going?”

“Ah…yes, I am!” MC exclaims excitedly, before nearly tripping over her own feet. She lurches forward before catching herself. Immediately, her face turns red and in a rush, she says, “I’m okay! I’m okay!!!”

“Are you sure?” He inspects her from head to toe.

“Yes!” MC replies, covering her face with one hand. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m not usually this clumsy.” But I can’t help it, I’m falling for you, both figuratively AND literally.

Seeing her reaction, he can’t help the smile finding his lips. A familiar voice catches his attention, Saeyoung is screaming his name so loud once again.

“Idiot.”

“I think I have to go before there’s a circus outside your classroom,” he walks away but after a few steps stops and turns his head to look at her, “I will see you later.” Saeyoung is running towards him with open arms but all he hugs is Saeran’s bag.

MC grins and gives him a small wave. “I’ll see you later, Saeran.” Seeing the Choi twins is always a treat, because despite how identical they look, their attitudes are so different. Saeyoung is fun and friendly, but MC can’t help staring after the younger twin, realizing that he just walked her to class. As he walks away though, her eyes widen and she slaps her forehead with her palm and groans.

Not again! I didn’t get to ask him to the dance!

“So did you ask her?” Saeyoung asks combing his hair.

“Ask what?”

“Ask MC to the dance! Or did she ask you? I think MC would, she’s a cool girl and…”

“Stop. There was no asking, hurry up or we’ll be late.”

Saeyoung pouts, he watches as his brother leaves the room. Looking in the mirror, Saeyoung finger guns his own reflection, “I got you, lil’ bro!”

The party has already started by the time MC gets there. She spots her friends immediately, they’re already dancing to the beats Saeyoung is playing through the speakers. MC smiles to herself when she remembers that messy conversation in the hallway with Saeran.

Her eyes are scanning the crowd for that flash of red hair, when she spots him standing near the DJ’s booth with a couple of guys. He’s dressed in black jeans, a gray tee under a black jacket –a simple look, but he pulls it off so well. She feels a blush creeping onto her face and MC shakes her head, getting herself to focus.

Should I ask him to dance…? But he’s with his friends…

MC shuffles nervously and decides not to; at the same time, her friends spot her and wave her over to join them on the dance floor. MC giggles and rushes over to her friends, hoping that after a few dances, she’ll have the courage to approach the red-haired guy she wanted to spend the evening with in the first place.

He’s listening to Saeyoung’s friend tell him all about his brother’s shenanigans during astronomy club hours. He laughs at the stories and agrees with them – his brother is a total goofball.

But his gaze keeps wandering around the room, for the moment he sees that smile, those eyes. What will he do when he finds them? He doesn’t know; for now, he just wants to see MC.

It doesn’t take long before he notices her, the red dress playing a beautiful contrast with her hair and skin. That’s it, he can’t take his eyes away from her. He stops listening to the boys and all his attention is focused on her.

She’s giggling as she watches her friends making silly dance moves, everyone just wanting to let loose and have fun after their exams. When MC moves her head, her curled hair moves with her and she laughs when one of her girlfriends takes off her shoes and starts jumping to the beat. Instinctively, she glances back near the DJ booth, where Saeran is standing. She’s been glancing at him every now and then, trying to catch the moment when he’d be alone, but this time, he’s looking at her.

MC inhales sharply as their eyes meet, her cheeks flushing as mint eyes gaze into her hazel ones. She can’t look away, her focus riveted on him. This makes her bump into one of her friends and MC reluctantly tears her gaze away from him to apologize to her friend.

Saeyoung notices his brother staring at the girl and smiles to himself. He leaves his spot and goes to his brother. Opening a water bottle, he wraps his arm around his brother’s shoulder.

“Ask her to dance?” Pointing his chin towards where MC stands.

Saeran looks at him, annoyed.

“What? I’m just trying to help you,” he says as he adjusts his headphones around his neck. “Listen, this is a dance. People are supposed to dance. MC looks really pretty. You’re not the only guy here, what if another guy asks her to dance?”

“She can dance with whoever she wants to,” he answers, looking at her.

“Can she?”

“Leave me alone.” He slaps his brother’s hand off his shoulder.

“Okay okay, don’t say I never did anything for you. How about your brother play one of your favorite songs?”

Saeyoung makes his way back to the booth and speaks into the microphone. “Alright, you party animals. Let’s change the beat a little, whaddaya say?!! This song in particular, I think should be shared with someone special. I wish I could be dancing with my beautiful Elly but I must suffer being apart from my true love. Buuuuuuuut if you have a special someone here I suggest you dance with them. I dedicate this song to the other love of my life, my baby brother~.”

Saeran is glaring at Saeyoung as the younger twin takes a sip from his drink.

What day is it? And in what month? This clock never seemed so alive

Saeran chokes when he hears the song, his mind quickly replays a moment the twins shared a few weeks ago when they were listening to music. Saeyoung caught him humming to this song and teased him about it for a few days.

Saeyoung laughs knowing very well what he’s done and what the song means to this brother. The older twin knows him too well not to notice how he stares at the girl. He loves his brother and loves the smiles this girl is capable of provoking from his baby twin.

The twins’ gazes connect and Saeyoung does that finger gun gesture, his fingers signaling Saeran to go get MC. Saeran looks in her direction, she stands alone, beautiful, so so beautiful.

‘Cause it’s you and me and all of the people with nothing to do Nothing to lose

What people? Because when he looks at her, she is all he sees. His feet are moving on their own and he doesn’t want to think about it, because if he does he’ll never reach her. And for a moment he wants to grasp the possibility of being the reason for her smile.

All of the things that I want to say just aren’t coming out right I’m tripping on words You’ve got my head spinning I don’t know where to go from here

He’s not standing by the booth anymore. MC starts to look around but everyone is moving, the dance floor too crowded. That mop of red hair is missing again. No, she can’t miss her chance to dance with him! Frantically, she looks around and stands on tiptoe, eyes scanning the crowd.

Her heart stops when she sees he’s making his way towards her. MC lands on her feet and starts moving, wanting to meet him halfway, wanting the chance to dance with him, to be with him before the song comes to an end.

'Cause it’s you and me and all of the people with nothing to do Nothing to prove And it’s you and me and all of the people And I don’t know why, I can’t keep my eyes off of you

Those mint eyes are now in front of her, inches away from her and the room melts into the background, the crowd disappears and it’s just the two of them in the room. There’s no doubt in her mind and her heart that this guy, this guy in front of her, is the one she wants to be with tonight.

There’s something about you now I can’t quite figure out

No, not just tonight –she wants more “accidental” brushes when they’re in class, more of those soft expressions he has when they’re studying the plants and identifying flowers, moments when he looks both vulnerable and beautiful. He can be closed off and awkward sometimes, and even sarcastic and rude to his brother, but MC can see how much the twins care for each other –and she can’t help but find him even more endearing and adorable because of that. But it’s more than those traits and quirks –it’s him, the entirety of him, that she’s in-love with. It’s Saeran, all of him, that she wants to get to know and cherish.

Everything she does is beautiful Everything she does is right 'Cause it’s you and me and all of the people with nothing to do Nothing to lose And it’s you and me and all of the people And I don’t know why, I can’t keep my eyes off of you

The girl is staring back at him, probably expecting something, is it the same thing he wants? But what if it’s not? What if she’s just being nice to him? No. MC is kind and sweet to everyone but when it comes to him he can’t ignore her blush or the way her eyes are always searching for his.

He breathes in and smiles at her, she smiles back. There is no need for words, he’ll take advantage of his brother’s words, dancing this song with someone special. He offers his hand to her, waiting for her reaction.

When he extends his hand, she can’t stop the fluttering in her chest, the light, bubbly feeling that leaves her feeling as though she’s walking on clouds. She imagined this moment ever since the dance was announced, and though she never had the courage to ask him to be her date, here he is, asking her to dance.

Shyly, she slips her hand into his, the feel of his rough hands not unpleasant…it feels nice. Good. His touch sends a thousand bolts of electricity through her body, her feelings ignited as they connect.

Her hand is soft and warm and all of his senses focus on her touch. He faces her, his hand slowly resting on the small of her back. MC places her hand on his shoulder and he pulls her a bit closer when she does. Her forehead resting on his chin and he catches the scent of her hair, his heart beating like never before. Her soft locks brush his skin and he closes his eyes, his fingers intertwine with hers. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment overthinking, trying to figure out all the things he wants to tell her.

This closeness, this warmth, he wants it. Not just for the duration of the song, he wants to keep MC close. He wants to hold her hand when they walk to class, he wants to be the one that tucks her hair behind her ear and catch her when she trips.

She wants this, not just for tonight, but everyday. Being able to watch him openly in class and asking about his day, knowing his thoughts. Taking care of flowers together and walking around campus…going on dates and making him smile the way he does when they’re together.

He knows the last chorus is about to play, he brings her even closer. Her smaller frame flushed against his chest. She feels his heartbeat and closes her eyes, knowing their hearts are beating to the same melody.

“MC, I…” No no that’s not how he should start… what to say?

“I like you, Saeran!” No…I might scare him off. How do I tell him…?

And me and all of the people with nothing to do Nothing to prove And it’s you and me and all of the people

He breaks the embrace, still holding her hand gently he twirls her around. When MC faces him again he brings her close to him again but this time his hands rest on her cheeks.

She immediately feels her face grow hot at his touch, but her eyes are fixed on his. MC is all too aware of how close they are, his scent filling her senses, his warm breath against her face. How is it that he can take her breath away and yet make her feel so alive?

“MC, I…”

And I don’t know why, I can’t keep my eyes off of you

“Can’t look away from you.” Not that he wants to, he can’t rip his gaze away from her beautiful face, her sparkling eyes, the blush on her cheeks and those pretty pink lips.

“Then don’t look away, Saeran,” MC whispers, her fingers lightly touching his jaw, sliding up his cheek. “I don’t…I don’t ever want to look away from you too. I can’t. It’s you, Saeran. It’s you I want to keep looking at everyday, every chance I can.”

What day is it? And in what month? This clock never seemed so alive

If there was ever a moment to be brave this is it.

Saeyoung notices the moment and quickly plays another song trying to keep everyone in their own world and he prays that the one his brother has found will make him happy. He smiles and looks away from Saeran. You can do this, Saeran.

Her words are a confirmation and before his mind analyzes the moment, every thought is replaced with sparks. Her lips are soft and warm, it’s just a delicate brush but it’s enough to ignite a need he never knew he had. He opens his eyes and looks at her.

When he brushes his lips against hers, it’s as though everything is right. Her hand on his shoulder tightens its grip and MC stops breathing, her entire being focused on where he’s touching her. A sweet kiss, an intimate kiss with the person she likes…loves. The feelings inside her are a mess, and all rational thought flies out the window. MC opens her eyes and sees him staring back at her…those beautiful mint eyes that she could lose herself in.

“I won’t because I like you, MC… maybe more than like but I don’t know how this works. Would you be willing to show me how? Learn with me?” He can feel the heat painting his ears and spreading across his face. He swallows and hopes he didn’t miss his chance.

She feels a grin breaking through her face automatically, his words making her happy. MC strokes his warm cheek with her hand and nods, shyly at first, before nodding more enthusiastically. “Yes, Saeran, yes. I…I like you too, I do. I want to learn with you and have new experiences with you…I want to be with you, Saeran. More than anything…I want to be with you.”

“Thank you,” he smiles, “I feel like I can do this if it’s you.”

The loud clapping replaces the song playing and Saeran turns to his brother who is giving him a thumbs up.

MC laughs and he laughs with her. The songs keep on playing and he holds his girl in his arms even a little after the dance is done. There are many more melodies he wants to show her and dance with her, in exchange all he asks for is the melody of her voice.

———

Thank you so much for reading!! Whew, this was long but we had fun writing it, we hope you enjoyed this fluffy fic too! ^^

@rossyele‘s Masterlist

@reifromrfa Masterlist

#saeranweek #saeran week #day 3 school life #saeran choi

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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years ago

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Outlander: Noah's Ark

Vellamo1

Work Text:

Boring.......

I was sitting in the Phantomhive townhouse on an evening at the end of January, trying to teach Soma how to play Black Maia.

The Earl and Sebastian had gotten tickets from the Queen to a traveling circus called Noah's Ark, and instead of getting to enjoy the show with them, I spent my time trying to explain to the teenager that he couldn't deal me more cards than I had in my hand.

I felt unfairly treated, even though I realized I was being childish.

I loved the circus.

The highlight of the year had always been the moment in the summer when Circus Finlandia set up its tent on the sand of the local sports field, and the smell of popcorn and sawdust wafted into the surroundings.

For years, due to the law, animals were no longer allowed to be taken on tours, but watching acrobats, clowns, magicians and other performers sounded like an escapist experience, the power of which continued with the monthly trade in the grayness of everyday life.

No matter, even though I was an adult.

When the band started, and the lights dimmed, I was once again that kid who saw a tightrope walker for the first time.

The magic didn't fade, despite the years.

Soma, once again, swiped his cards across the table.

"I can't stand this, there's no excitement here," he would say.

"The game could be more exciting if you played by the rules and didn't cheat to win," I reminded and gathered the card into the deck.

The prince left in the direction of his room, his faithful Agni following behind him.

I sighed.

Despite the age difference, the Earl was considerably more mature than the spoiled prince.

I didn't have to think for a second about who I'd rather spend my time with.

I went to get a glass of wine from the kitchen, and started playing solitaire while blinking at the window.

The others should be here any minute.

I hope nothing happened.

I did not know the reason why the tickets had been given, but the Queen hardly did anything without a purpose.

The watchdog had been called back to work.

….......................

Later in the evening we sat at the table and talked.

I heard about the children's abductions, and how Sebastian had gotten himself and the Earl to join the circus.

And me, as it turned out.

"As a woman, you can talk to women better than we do, and you can also get to places that we can't," explained Sebastian.

"Furthermore, an extra pair of eyes might be decisive in solving the matter," Jaarli continued.

So I got to the circus after all.

Just to one side of the edge of the manes.

…......................

The next morning dawned cold and pale.

Me and Jaarli had taken off worn pairs of clothes, unlike Sebastian who was in his tailcoat, as usual.

But where he presented what he was, that is, the butler, the Earl, or Finnian, as he introduced himself, was a servant boy and I was a nestling.

We had gathered behind the tents by the goal board, and I watched, holding back a smile, as the Earl hit the board, with Sebastian's help, every time. Luckily everyone was staring at the board and the boy, because I had a poker face to keep.

When the daggers ran out, the Earl's trial was over. A knife thrower named Dagger immediately took her into his care, and my ordeal began.

The red-haired guide wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me and the rest of the crowd inside the tent.

“Now it's your turn, miss. Just up there,” he said, pointing to the roof of the tent.

I looked up.

I had to bend my head back in order to distinguish the rope looming at a height of twenty meters.

"Oh my god, I'd rather get into bed with you than climb up there!" i started

I slapped my palm over my mouth as a deep silence settled around me.

Oh hell, when did I learn to think first and speak later....

I can walk in a dark forest, I'm not afraid of animals or murderers and I can stand anything, but not high places! Or, well, ships, but now there was no fear of seasickness...

Just looking up made a cold sweat run down my back and my hands shake.

I can't, I can't.....

Suddenly, the teacher, Jokeri, slapped my shoulder with his bony artificial hand and burst into a roar of laughter.

"I don't know if that was a compliment or an insult, but if high places cause such great emotions in you, we can probably find you a place on the border."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, what are you good at?", the man continued.

I think.

"I'm a pretty good darts thrower, but I can hardly beat C... uh, Finnian."

"I guess there's something else?"

"I'm pretty good with animals," I said after thinking for a moment.

"Okay then, Beast, Come here," Jokeri whined.

The busty dark-blooded stepped closer.

"The newcomer will be your assistant."

"It won't work!", the animal tamer shouted.

I looked at him searchingly.

The woman's eyes showed anger and fear.

What was he really afraid of?

For his tiger?

I had heard about Betty and Sebastian's encounter the night before, so it seemed likely, but when I saw the way Beast looked at Joker, I realized it was something more personal.

My rash statement, and the order to take me as his assistant made Beast fear for his position.

Not as an animal tamer, but in Joker's eyes.

Ouch, one-sided love is boring, even if you are just a bystander.

I felt warm sympathy for the sad-eyed woman.

But knowledge is power, and how it is used can solve the problem of missing children.

All the weapons that can be found are used.

After watching the duel between the animal tamer and the tiger trainer, it was clear that my new pet wouldn't be near the tiger.

It didn't bother me, because even though I like cats, I was much more aware of my vulnerability than Sebastian, who had ended up bitten. Twice.

It was easy for him to be a demon, but I would be in pieces if a 300-kilogram kitty decided that I wasn't a nice guy.

“Snake, come here,” I heard Joker call.

From the side of the tent, from the shadows, a man stepped out with two snakes on his shoulders.

As the slender figure walked closer, I felt my eyes widen.

Some of the skin on the man's face had scales, like snakes on his shoulders!

I looked up into his eyes, and saw two golden-hued, narrow-pupiled eyes, whose sad expression pierced my heart.

Man, he must have had a terrible time.

People can be so cruel to someone different.

"Snake, here's your new assistant," Joker introduced.

“I hope you get along, all of you.”

I looked the man straight in the eyes and held out my hand.

"Hey."

The man looked at my hand, and then at me, confused.

Apparently, he wasn't used to someone wanting to touch him voluntarily.

I smiled, and raised my eyebrows questioningly.

Carefully, he raised his right hand towards me.

I took her hand in mine, and pressed both my palms on either side of her hand, warming it.

“Nice to meet you, Snake. Would you introduce your friend to me?”

The man gently pulled his hand out of my grasp.

"I'm Emily - says Emily," the man said in a soft voice.

A beautiful, red-black-white-striped snake raised its head and looked towards me.

“Hey, Emily. Nice to meet you. You are very beautiful,” I said, holding out my hand, palm side up, as I always do when facing animals.

The sneaky creature reached out for my hand and flicked its tongue in the air.

"You smell good - says Emily."

"You mean I smell like a rodent?", I replied with a grin.

"No, not for the food, just for the good," says Emily.

A black-brown, larger snake raised its front body and leaned towards me.

"You really smell good, and warm," says Wilde, the man said.

"Good to hear I don't smell like food," I smiled weakly.

If I didn't know snakes wrong, the larger, male snake was a mamba.

Okay, I'm not afraid of snakes in general, but I'm not so stupid that I'm not afraid of one of the most venomous creatures in the world.

Unnoticed, I leaned back as Wilde reached for me.

"Don't be afraid, we don't bite unless we're told to - says Wilde", the man reassured me as the snake hissed near his ear.

I wanted to believe that the little animal was laughing at my reaction.

"Good, that's clear then," said the director.

"Do you know anything else useful?"

I thought about it while Emily wrapped her arms around me.

"He's a good dancer," I heard from behind me.

Sebastian.

I turned to look.

"Party dances are hardly suitable for the circus," I said, wondering about his motivations.

"I didn't mean couple dances. You can dance more than that."

I watched in confusion as he began humming;

"You are silky, in my arms..."

I bent my head towards the ceiling and burst out laughing.

"So it was you, you bloody bastard. Damn voyeur!

The Joker looked at us confused for a moment, but then nodded.

"Okay, let's see. Dance for us.”

I stepped onto the carpeted part of the manes, dropped my coat in a pile on the ground and kicked off my shoes.

“Music, maestro,” I grinned at Sebastian, who began humming the swinging melody of a reggae song.

"If the success of the job depends on this, you will get all the money for it", I thought and let it burn.

…...............

When I finished, panting slightly and my abs tender, I saw my audience looking at me wide-eyed.

"Damn, how he moves!"

"Not bad, not bad at all!"

"When I'm good, I'm good, but when I'm bad, I'm even better," I grinned and blew a kiss to the knife thrower named Dagger.

If the men really only had enough blood for one place at a time, the guy should sit down as soon as possible.

There was no more blood in his head.

I chuckled to myself as I bent down to pick up my jacket.

I may not be able to talk to real snakes, but I can charm men's snakes.

A place in the circus was a sure thing, besides, men easily talk out of their mouths when trying to impress a woman.

Kill two birds with one stone.

Also, I had an almost inappropriate amount of fun.

As I walked over to Jarl and Sebastian, I felt Joker's gaze following me.

I glanced at the animal tamer, and felt cold shivers down my spine.

If looks could kill...

As we walked outside the tent with the group, I searched Sebastian's gaze with mine.

"The animal tamer is in love with the Joker, but there's no reciprocation," I thought as loudly as possible.

"Maybe there's a hole in it that you can drive a wedge into."

I saw Sebastian nod lightly.

He would make his move when the moment was right.

I would do the same.

…...........................

Outside the tent, Jokeri called the whole party together.

"Listen everyone! We have new friends joining us today!”

"Here's newcomer Black...."

“I'm Black. Nice to meet you."

"...beautiful Serpent...."

I did.

A fitting name.

And I wasn't afraid to be toxic when necessary.

"......and the little one is Smile!"

I laughed at the Earl's expression and realized I wasn't the only one.

"Ha-fun to meet..."

"Hey, smile now, Smile!"

….....................

We followed the Joker through the area.

"I will introduce you to a few places. Follow behind.”

"First of all, you sleep in these tents," the man said, pointing to a row of simple canvas tents.

"Assistants, backup performers and newcomers live here. Usually two people live in one tent."

We continued along the path between the tents.

"There is a dining tent and a food storage tent."

"You newcomers also cook the sapuskas, so do your best."

"There is a first aid tent at the far end, which Black already knows."

We stopped next to the area separated by the rope.

"And this is where the main performers' private tents begin."

"Privates?", the earl asked.

"Well, when you're successful, you get your own tent," Jokeri said.

"Oh yes", the man pointed to the big tent looming in front.

“That's Snake's tent. You men stay away from it, for your own good. And Serpent, you shouldn't go there without Snake either. There are a large number of venomous snakes on the loose. You will end up in the afterlife in one bite.”

"Snake and his sneaky friends are really shy. So let them be alone," the director continued.

"By the way, Smile, what happened to your right eye?"

"What?"

"Oh this... it was an accident..."

"It's sad that such a young person has suffered such a great loss," Jokeri said, caressing the young man's cheek with his skeletal hand.

"Well, everyone here has their own problems, so you fit in just fine."

"Up..."

"Does everyone join the troupe when the circus goes around, like we do?", I asked.

"Most, but all the main performers are from the same place. You could say that we are childhood friends", Jokeri explained while we walked back towards the screening tent.

"Childhood friends?", Sebastian repeated.

"Yes. But Snake is still a newcomer. He knows how to handle snakes brilliantly, and we didn't have a snake charmer, so he was made a member right away."

"If you get among the headliners, you don't have to prepare for the shows or fight over food. You also get your own tent. That's why everyone is doing their best to get to the top", Jokeri finished his explanation as we entered the tent through the doorway.

…......................

"Well, this is what you've been waiting for!", the Joker announced loudly.

"I will report to the newcomers' room. As a result of an unbiased draw, Smile is in tent 8. Here is your roommate,” Jokeri said, pointing to a young, freckled boy.

"And Black is in tent 9."

The announcement triggered a flurry of objections.

I understood the Jarl's sentiment very well. Separated from Sebastian, both were unable to move, as their roommates would see everything.

But crying in the market didn't help.

Sebastian ended up in the same tent with a sparkly-looking tightrope dancer called Suit. The man looked like he was born with a clothes hanger inside. The guy took the adjective "stiff" to completely new dimensions.

Good luck...

Then I.

"And Serpent.... Do you want to sleep in Snake's tent, or do you prefer to sleep elsewhere?"

"Preferably elsewhere. While I don't have anything against snakes, I don't want them in my bed, especially if I smell as good as Emily and Wilde said,” I announced.

Joker grinned at me and looked at the paper he was holding.

"There are no other living tents available, but there is a utility tent next to tent number nine that can accommodate a bed. You can use it yourself, even if you are a newcomer," the man announced.

Good. At least I had more freedom.

Men wouldn't be able to do it.

…............

The night was already dark when I finally got the bunk bed assembled and the bedding in place. I grabbed a couple of extra blankets from the supply store, because the air was cold in winter, and the tent was heated by nothing but my own body heat.

I sat outside the tent on top of a wooden box and smoked, while listening to the sound of the noise coming from tent number 9.

If I understood correctly, floor space was shared there.

I chuckled to myself.

The pleasure of injury is ugly, but delicious.

I think Sebastian deserved a bit of discomfort after revealing his spying and putting me in an embarrassing situation.

Although it ended in my favor in the end.

I turned my back to the newcomers' tents, and looked over the rope in the direction of the private tents.

People were returning to their tents and going to sleep.

A curvy dark figure turned towards me and I felt cold shivers down my spine.

Beast.

A familiar figure closer to me walked towards his tent with two thin figures on his shoulders.

I raised my hand in greeting, and saw Snake respond to my gesture with a nod.

Then he too disappeared into the furrows of his tent.

I sighed and looked up at the sky.

The winter sky was pitch black and the clouds covered almost all the stars from view.

The moon had not yet risen from behind the horizon, and outside the lanterns the air was dark as ink.

I heard the sand crunch as someone walked up to me.

I glanced over my shoulder and recognized the spiky-haired figure of the Joker.

Without saying a word, I offered my cigarette case and felt him take one.

The lantern clattered as he took the fire from the candle.

"Aren't you freezing out here?", I heard him ask.

"No worse than inside," I answered.

I didn't talk shit. The air was only a few degrees above zero, and there was no fireplace in the tent. Fortunately, it was tight after all, and the door flap was able to close properly.

Otherwise, I would definitely freeze before morning.

"Go get glowing coals from the hearth in the kitchen tent in a metal box. You can warm the bedding with it, and you can leave it on your feet overnight," Jokeri advised.

I smiled at him gratefully.

A warm man would have been a much nicer bedmate than a can of coal, but I wasn't picky.

Warm feet were higher on my list of requirements.

Sighing, I stubbed out my cigarette and headed for the kitchen tent.

I only got a couple of steps before I felt a grip on my arm.

The Joker turned my face towards him.

"Thanks for the cigarette," he said hoarsely, flicked my cheek with his prosthesis and turned to walk in the direction of the private tents.

I continued my journey in the opposite direction, smiling.

…..............

"Wake-up!!!"

I jumped to my seat and almost fell from my narrow butt.

After blinking for a while, I recognized a freckled face standing in the doorway.

“Get up and hurry to the kitchen tent. The newcomers do the cooking, remember. Give it a shot and you'll have time to get something in your stomach too!"

I muttered a few choice words and began to fan my suit.

I had slept in my woolen petticoat because of the cold, and thanks to the jar of kibble that Joker had recommended, my night had been quite pleasant. If strange sounds and narrow, loud punk didn't count.

But you can't have everything.

I jogged towards the kitchen tent while straightening my hair. People were on the move, I saw yawning faces and smelled the smoke as the fireplaces were lit.

In the kitchen, I immediately got an apron in front of me, and I was told to take care of the tea. Probably thirty litres. The container reminded me of a samovar and I decided on a crossbreeding, but luckily a young woman making bread dough next to me was shouting instructions as I rushed between the water barrel and the cupboards. This drink could not be called gourmet even with the best of intentions, but it was hot and with the sugar it sank into its half-asleep drinkers like carbon monoxide.

About forty people accompanied the circus, at least what could be deduced from the number of dishes. A constant stream of hungry people passed from the serving counter to the tables, and I was busy enough to keep the tea canister full and collect the dirty dishes. However, the good thing about working near the stove was that I could eat food in my mouth at the same time, and I didn't have to wait to finish my chores.

"Hey, did you hear what that new boy did?" I heard the baker ask.

"Who, Smile?" I answered.

"Yes, he managed to peel the potatoes to shreds, but the other new guy, the one in black, fried the shreds and the fish left over from yesterday. This is really good, taste it" said the woman, offering her plate.

Hmm, it also became clear how old the dish fish&chips is...

I gulped down a mouthful of greasy deliciousness, and smiled with my eyes closed.

This was really good.

"Good morning, ladies," came Joker's greeting.

I swallowed hard and wiped my mouth.

"Morning, I hope you slept well," I replied with a smile.

"Thank you, great. What about yourself, did the night go well?"

"Obviously. Thanks for the advice, I would have been in trouble otherwise,” I grinned.

"I am always ready to help a damsel in distress. Beautiful women should not be allowed to suffer from a cold bed", the man grinned back, and accepted the plate filled by my companion.

The baker looked at me askance, and I hastened to explain:

"She advised me to get bread rolls from the hearth in a metal jar, and warm the bed with it. I sleep in a utility tent, and it would have been terribly cold otherwise."

"The Joker has an eye for pretty girls. Take care that he doesn't get you into trouble," the woman warned.

Thanks for the advice.

If anyone was going to get someone in trouble, it would be me.

And it seemed like the Joker would be easy prey.

He may have been a ladies' man, but I knew how to be a man-eater.

…..................

“Bow down, I'll tie your laces,” a trapeze artist named Wendy instructed me.

"Why do I have to wear these clothes, I'm not even performing today," I moaned as the child-sized woman laced the back of my top.

The dark green lamé fabric barely covered my chest, and the skirt made of strips only reached the mouth of my fishnet stockings. I felt naked, which was not at all pleasant in the January weather.

Embarrassment is one thing.

Frostbite is another.

“You have to get used to these clothes as if they were your second skin. That's it, little by little," Wendy comforted.

Maybe I could find a clue somewhere.

Or even a scarf...

.............

I sat by the wall of the tent with Snake, Emily and Wilde and watched the others practice.

The earl and the freckled face tried to get the earl to balance on the ball taller than me, but the attempts invariably ended in sawdust.

On the other hand, Sebastian did well. His balancing act had gathered a small audience around him, who shared their appreciation freely.

Emily was wrapped around my arm and I was stroking along the brightly colored snake, smooth strokes as I watched the exercises.

"You danced beautifully yesterday - says Emily" I heard Snake whisper next to me.

"Thank you. Did you like the show?", I asked the man and the other snake together.

"You dance like us - says Wilde".

"Do you mind that?" I asked worriedly.

"I'm not as smooth in my movements as you are, I have too many protrusions to control."

"I would like to dance with you - says Wilde."

"And I would like to dance with you," I replied.

"Shall I try?"

I dropped the blanket from my shoulders and reached out for Mamba to squirm up my arm onto my shoulders.

"I need music, or at least rhythm. Would you clap?”, I asked Snake.

I clapped three slow and two fast claps as a model.

As Snake and the boy who passed by and watched settled the rhythm, I closed my eyes and stretched my arms out to my sides.

Wilde, who was almost three meters tall, stretched himself the length of my arms, from wrist to wrist.

With my eyes closed, I listened to the rhythm, let myself sink into it, and began to rotate my hips in a wide figure eight.

When I felt the rhythm pulsing in my veins, I raised my other arm up, and added sharp hip lifts to the figure of eight with quick strokes.

My arms made a wide, undulating motion as Wilde swayed along, and I began chest thrusts.

Now you had to focus on what you were doing.

Both my hips, chest and arms moved, all in a different way.

I felt Wilde descend lower, wrapped around my hips and waist, and felt the snake's head sway with mine.

I opened my eyes and looked straight at the snake.

I tensed my abs and bent my upper body back.

Like a shadow, Wilde bent with me.

I went back and bent forward.

The snake bent away in front of me, and as I bent down I felt a forked tongue brush my lips.

I smiled, and bent my upper body to the side, hips and hands continuing their non-stop movement.

Wilde and I swayed from side to side, eyes locked on each other, alternately sending, alternately receding from each other, in an unbroken stream.

It had become quiet around us, only the rhythm of Snake and the boy clapping echoed in the air.

Forward, backward.

Left, right, left again.

I brought my face closer to the snake, and got a touch of the tongue.

I bent back at the waist, and felt the smooth body bend with me.

I dance as if in a trance, not as a snake charmer, but enchanted by a snake.

Finally I realized that the clapping had stopped.

I blinked, and realized that the group that had been training earlier had gathered around us, a respectful distance away.

I felt Wilde wrap around my shoulders as I looked at the crowd.

I saw admiring, frightened, lustful looks.

Behind the crowd, Sebastian leaned against a post with his arms crossed over his chest, and gave me an appreciative grin.

I smiled back.

"Well, the show is over. Back to training, everyone!” I heard a voice shout from my side.

I turned to meet the Joker's approving gaze as he eyed my body and the suit that was designed to cover as little as possible.

And Wilde, much more cautiously.

I smiled back and licked my lips.

The booty was starting to heat up.

…............

"Ugh, I can't get this, it went wrong again!", the petite trapeze artist complained.

“Wait, let me help,” I said to Wendy, and picked up the makeup brush.

I wiped the failed line with a rag and turned the girl's face better into the light.

The frenzy before the show was at its most intense, and there was an eerie buzz in the back of the tent.

People were going back and forth, putting on make-up, mending costumes, looking for some things and carrying others, talking and bustling about.

On the other side of the tent fabric, you could hear how the first people began to gather in the stands, and the musicians tuned their instruments.

The little aerial acrobat got his eyeliner, and I immediately got the next customer, when the knife thrower's assistant sat in front of me on the edge of the table.

Eventually the area went quiet and I heard the show start.

I sighed, and closed the make-up box.

If it went well, I would have time to smoke a cigarette before I was needed.

The earl and Sebastian had disappeared on their way, and I suspected that they were exploring the tents now that all the headliners were in the marquee.

I straightened my back, turned around and got my mouth full of knot.

The Joker had been standing behind me unnoticed, and now burst into laughter.

I wiped my mouth irritated.

I don't like being approached unnoticed.

I like to keep the reins firmly in my own hands, and being caught off guard is annoying.

The man raised his hand to my cheek, still smiling, and stepped closer.

I stepped back, and felt the edge of the table bite into my thigh.

I looked up at Joker's face and sat on the edge of the table, my thighs open so he could step between them, close to me.

The air between us crackled with emotion.

I raised my hand to his knot, wrapped the band around my fingers and pulled his face closer to mine.

I felt his other, prosthetic hand slide down my thigh, nipping at the mouth of my long sock.

I raised my face, and reached towards his mouth.....

Just as our lips were about to touch, the curtain flew open.

"Joker, Wendy sprained her ankle!" shouted another trapeze artist, a little man named Peter.

We sped away from each other, and the Joker rushed to the other side of the curtain with Peter after him.

I stood up with a sigh.

It had been so close.

Being interrupted was frustrating.

But it was good to move on from this.

However, I couldn't have asked anything when the possibility of being surprised was so great.

There was still time here.

And the target was ripe for the picking.

Peter and the Joker, with Wendy on their backs, rushed into the back room.

“Serpent, find Black. She has to perform for Wendy. Peter, you get Suit. You can't support Black, they have to perform together."

I ran out the back door and called Sebastian at the top of my lungs.

“Sebastian, you are needed!”

After a while, I heard running footsteps, and I directed both men into the back room, where the Joker was examining Wendy's leg.

"Serpent, take Wendy to the Doctor," Joker asked.

I nodded in response, and lifted the little woman into my arms.

The men stayed to talk while I left the tent behind me and headed to the first aid tent with my burden.

….........

I was sitting in the first aid tent watching as the Doctor treated Wendy's ankle, when Sebastian rushed in with the Earl in his arms.

The pale, sweating boy was breathing hard, and smelled of pain sweat and vomit.

I jumped out of the chair and grabbed the bandage box from the bed so Sebastian could lay the shaking boy down.

I stood silently to the side, worried, while the Doctor examined the panting youth.

"It's asthma," the Doctor announced after finishing his examination.

"Or asthma..... I haven't seen him like this in the three years I've been with him," Sebastian said.

"It must have been healing if he hasn't had a seizure in three years..." The doctor replied.

"He's had the flu two or three times, but he's never been in that condition. This was definitely due to the combined effect of many different things," Sebastian continued.

I had never seen her so worried.

“I heard he bathed with our silly bundles of muscles outside. Of course you'll catch a cold," the Doctor said just as the Earl opened his eyes.

"Great, you worked out."

"Water..." came a small voice.

"Please," Sebastian offered the shot bottle.

“Smile, you probably had severe asthma when you were younger, didn't you? You can die from it, so you have to be careful even if you think you're cured. Stay in bed until the fever and cough get better, is it clear," the doctor instructed.

"The rest of you go to your own tents," the doctor continued and hurried us on our way.

…............

I sat on a stack of packing boxes with a blanket on my shoulders, and smoked one cigarette after another.

I was worried about the young Earl.

Asthma could kill you if you didn't get medicine for it, and there were no effective medicines available at that time.

Cortisone wouldn't be invented until the late 1940s, and even though medicinal plants that dilate the bronchi were already known in ancient China, I don't think they would be available here

So I could only hope that rest and peace would see the Earl recover.

…..........

I noticed people starting to leave the main tent. The show had ended, and the performers started moving towards their own sleeping tents.

I saw how the Joker and Beast came alone, talking heatedly.

I saw Beast wrap his arms around the man, agitated, crying.

“Don't go!” I heard him plead.

The Joker untied himself, and took off his scarf, wrapping it around the woman's neck.

Beast remained standing, looking after the man as he started walking towards me.

I watched until he turned his back and began to walk stiffly toward Betty's cage, and I focused my attention on the man who walked up to me.

"Aren't you asleep yet?"

"A lonely bed is not attractive," I replied and pulled the man closer.

"Would you like me to help with that?", he whispered as our lips touched.

"Whose tent is closer?"

"Yours, but I have a bigger bed..."

…....................

The echo of the lone candle rippled across our bodies as I placed my lips on his chest.

I could see nipples on my lips, until I felt the skin tightening and the nipple coming out hard.

I listened to intermittent panting, and followed the border of the pectoral muscle down with my tongue.

"Where do you have to go?"

"To the father..."

"Take me with you," I asked as I let my hand descend lower, to touch.

"I can't, the journey is too long..."

I wrapped my hands around the silky skin.

"How long have you been gone?", I whispered, moving my hand lightly.

"Three days...." came a faint moan.

I got on top of the man and started moving.

I felt him convulse beneath me and leaned down to brush my lips against his sweaty neck.

"Which way are you going? I could come and escort....” I breathed into his ear.

"E-ete-west..."

I felt strong hands on my hips, and felt myself being rolled onto my back.

The time for talking was over.

…......................

Someone patted my cheek.

I blinked and tried to figure out where I was.

The canvas ceiling above me reminded me of last night's events, and I turned to face my alarm clock.

In the dimness of the nearly burned out candle, I made out Sebastian's face.

"I found out the name," the man whispered to me.

"Good. He lives in the south, a day and a half riding away. This information is probably enough to find him", I whispered back.

My speech startled the Joker, who turned onto his side, wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my hair, mumbling sleepily.

I smiled at his calm expression, and turned my gaze to Sebastian.

"Are you going to leave with the Earl?" I asked aloud.

"Yes. It is no longer necessary for us to stay here.”

"All right. I'm a little... stuck now, but I'll come back to the townhouse if possible. The opportunity will probably open up when the others are at breakfast."

"Take care of yourself."

"Don't worry, I always land on my feet. Or at least on someone else's feet" I thought, and I turned into the sleeping man's arms to continue my sleep.

…...............

I woke up to restless hands.

Which were not mine.

I smiled sleepily as I felt lips nipping at my neck and hands caressing my hips.

I reached out for Joker and wrapped my legs around his hips.

There were much worse ways to wake up...

…......................

“Will you come to breakfast with me?” I heard Joker ask as he helped lace up the back of my suit.

"I have to go to my tent first," I replied.

"See you at the kitchen tent, I won't stay long".

I planted a kiss on my lover's lips and went out.

There weren't many people outside.

Everyone was either eating or starting the day's exercises.

Good.

I crawled into my tent, and quickly pulled on my original clothes over the performance suit.

Fortunately, my tent was the last before the private tents, which meant I didn't have to pass the entire line of tents to get outside the area.

It was enough for me to go around the back of the tent and head straight away, whereupon I ended up on busy streets where it was easy to get a driver.

The circus was set up in southwest London, on an oval-shaped field, and the drive to the townhouse in the West End took half an hour in morning traffic.

When I entered the main door, I was immediately attacked by a panicked Soma.

"You were all gone for two days and didn't tell me anything, and I was so worried, and Ciel is in so much pain, and why are you wearing those clothes?!?"

"Rewind to the beginning and at normal speed, please. I didn't take anything from that spill", I reassured the young man who was making rounds while I took off my shabby jacket.

"Agni, is there breakfast," I called over my shoulder as I led the prince by the hand into the breakfast room.

When Soma got a cup of tea in his shaking hands, and I had a full plate in front of me, I finally understood what he was talking about.

Apparently Jaarli and Sebastian had arrived at night, and planned to leave again immediately after changing clothes.

Soma and Agni had stopped them, as the Earl was clearly very ill, which did not surprise me.

Now the Earl was bedridden, and Sebastian took care of this as best he could.

However, neither of them had agreed to tell Soma anything, and the young man, indignant at being an outsider, now tried to ask me the reason for our absence.

"Soma, these are work matters related to the Earl's position and title. They are only discussed with those who are directly affected by the matter," I announced.

Then I reached across the table to grab the young man's hand.

"I know you're worried. Ciel is happier than he knows when he has a friend like you.”

Soma sighed and looked down.

“Just take care of Ciel. He needs it, and you,” I continued, standing up.

"I'm going to take a bath and take a nap now. Will you come and wake me up when the Earl feels better?”

….................

A couple of days later I received a letter at the town hall.

The owner of the circus, Baron Kelvin, and all the founding members of the troupe had died.

So were the children we were assigned to save.

I sighed deeply, and crumpled the letter into my fist.

I felt sorry for the children.

But there is a limit beyond which there is no going back.

The earl had been able to, with Sebastian's help.

These kids didn't have that chance.

Which one do you prefer?

A quick death, or a life that would be nothing but pain and anxiety inside your head, but not necessarily outside?

I knew which one I would choose.

On the inside of my closed eyes, I could see Joker's Orange hair, and his crooked smile.

I couldn't feel sorry for him.

Both lie down and cheat.

After all, I was left with memories.

I sighed and went downstairs.

It was time for me to prepare my return to the mansion.

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