#book has gorgeous pictures of the wolves

[pyrrhicraven]

If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

[buckyshoneybunny]

The White Wolf (Part 1)

Wolf/Alpha!Bucky + Wildlifephotographer!curvy!reader  

W.C.- 2111 

Summary- Upon exploring the mysterious forest, you come across something you thought only existed in books. 

Warnings- None really. 

A/N- After a lot of contemplating I decided to turn this into a series. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to get another part out until the end of next week, hopefully 🤞. I haven’t decided how many parts yet tho. Anyway, thank you so much for the response on my last post, I could literally cry. I’m going to try and work on doing a masterlist, if anyone has any requests or story ideas I’d gladly take them. I hope you enjoy! Will be a slow burn.

Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 Masterlist Series Masterlist

They say, that if anyone could marry an animal, that you’d be the first person to do it. That’s the only way to describe your love for animals. You loved animals with everything in you, you loved volunteering at animal hospitals and shelters, helping injured animals, but most of all, you loved capturing the beauty of animals with nature. Not necessarily studying them, but observing. Watching wildlife, and capturing the beauty of nature paired with the animals you loved, that was what you lived for. 

Which is how you ended up here. New York City seemed to have lost its touch with nature and the animals around, so you decided to adventure out in the few forests they have left to capture the beautiful world of nature and prove to everyone that it’s worth salvaging what’s left. There was one forest in particular that caught your attention, thick trees with no way to get through but the path that led through them, the morning dew that settled over the trees, it screamed mysterious and begged to be explored.  

When you told some of the locals your plan, they warned you not to go there, said dangerous creature lurked in that forest. They said that lots of tourist would go walking there, but few returned. That only fueled your determination to explore the mysterious forest.  

So, bright and early Saturday morning you packed up your camera and some supplies, threw on a pair of blue jeans and a white tank top, a winter coat over top that to strive off the cold fall air. Shoved on your combat boots and grabbed a knife your dad gave you for protection and headed out the door.  

You were a little bummed when, a mile in, nothing had changed, thick trees and brush surrounded you. But you keep going, determined to find something. Your determination paid off. 

About another half a mile, give or take, you came across the most beautiful scene you had ever seen. It was a clearing in the trees, the land was flat with a big gorgeous clear blue lake. The early morning sun shone through the trees, creating a peaceful atmosphere. The soft, green grass covered in a layer of moister, flowers littered throughout the field. But what caught your attention was the somewhat big, beautifully white wolf lent over lapping at the sparkling water.  

I thought all wolves were extirpated from New York? You quickly and quietly hide behind a tree and whipped out your camera. You snap a couple of pictures of the wolf, you put the camera away and look for a way around the field, not wanting to alert the wolf of your presence. As you back away from the tree, you step on a twig, the sound reverberates through the forest. 

The wolf’s head snaps up, gaze locking on your figure. You freeze in fear and captivity from its sparkling steel blue eyes. The wolf slowly stands up, revealing he’s bigger than what you first thought. He sniffs the air and growls. 

Now, throughout your life, your father always told you to remain still and calm when presented in a situation like this. He said animals can sense fear, chances are though that they’re more afraid of you. Don’t let them sense you’re afraid, if they can sense you aren’t a threat they’ll most likely leave and you can get the hell out of there. When have you ever listened to his advice? That’s the only explanation as to why you ran. 

You spin around and take off, willing your feet to run faster once you hear his howl and rustling behind you. Logistically you knew you didn’t stand a chance out running a wolf, but you hoped to god he’d lose interest quickly and leave you to run away in fear. You’d never like hurting animals but when the sounds of heavy paws hitting the ground got closer you grabbed the knife that was strapped to your side. 

The wolf quickly catches up and knocks you to the ground, growling. Before he can rip your head off, you cut down the side of his back leg, not to kill him but to get him to back off. The wolf yelps and scurries off of you. You take off running again but trip over a root, you fall to the ground, hitting your head on another root, knocking yourself out. 

When you come too, you’re lying on the floor of what looks like a small cabin. The main area, where you are, is a small neat kitchen and a living room joined together. There’s a table in the corner by the kitchen, a couch, rug, and small coffee table in front of a fireplace that’s currently burning with wood. You lay between the table and fireplace on the rug, a fleece throw covering you. Your bag is, what looks like tossed on the couch. You quickly crawl over to it, sighing in relief to find your camera undamaged.  

Your head is pounding, you reach back to scratch your back to find teeth holes in your shirt. Your ass and backs of your legs brown with dirt, looking like you were dragged. You freeze when you hear a whine. You look over to see small hallway that what looks like it leads to a bathroom on the right, and a small bedroom across from it, there's a door at the very end, looks like a linen closet.  

You slowly and quietly stand up, you carefully toe off your boots, hoping your sock covered feet won’t make much noise. You grab the fireplace poker as a weapon and follow the noise. When you reach the bedroom, the door cracked, you find the wolf curled on a large dog bed in the corner, furiously licking the wound on his leg, the one you gave it. 

You take a deep breath and push the door open. The wolf growls as soon as he sees you, he tries to stand up but whines and falls back down. You gently set your makeshift weapon down and turn to the bathroom. You rummage through the cabinets and drawers to find what you’re looking for. 

Walking back into the bedroom, you slowly make your way to the wolf, he growls and buries himself more in the corner. 

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “I just want to help.” You gesture to his leg, you set the supplies down and cautiously stick your hand out for him to sniff.  

Once he assures you aren’t here to hurt him, but to help him, he lays his head down and watches you from the corner of his eye. Once settled beside him, you dip a washcloth in warm water and gently clean his wound. He whines and jerks his leg. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Let me fix what I caused,” you say softly. Once you finish cleaning the wound, you wrap it in gauze.  

“There, all better,” you cautiously reach out to pet his fur. He lets you; you reach up to scratch behind his ears, he closes his eyes and nuzzles your hand. 

You giggle. “You aren’t so bad, huh?” He just lays his head in your lap. You look over at the nightstand to see a picture of two tall, muscular men. One with shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes, and a metal arm. Huh. You think as you look at the metal arm, the other guy has blonde hair, blue eyes- not a sparkly as the other guy’s is- he doesn’t have a metal arm like his friend. 

You pick up the picture. “Is one of these your... owner? Did they find me?” You question the wolf, knowing he probably doesn’t even understand you much less can answer your question. The wolf opens his eyes, he looks to the picture then back to you, giving you almost a deadpanned look.  

Just then the sound of the front door opening and closing, and the sound of feet padding through the cabin, fill the silence. 

“Hey, Buck! I just wanted to check in and se-what the hell?” The blonde man from the picture stops short when he sees you, his eyes widened.  

“Uh, hi,” you give him a shy smile. 

“Who are you and what the hell are you doing in here?” He asks, almost harshly.  

“I’m Y/N. I was exploring the forest when I... I had seen him. Needless to say, he chases me, I cut his back leg, I fell and hit my head. I woke up here and helped patch up his wound. That’s the short version. I’m guessing the other man lives here? Is this his... pet?” You gesture to the picture on the nightstand. 

The man snorts. “Yes, the other man lives here, I’m Steve and the other man is James but everyone calls him Bucky.” 

“How do you get Bucky from James?” 

“His middle name is Buchanan” 

You hum in understanding. “Will this Bucky be back soon? I’d like to apologize for hurting his wolf” 

Steve grins in amusement. “You’re petting him right now.” 

“Huh?” You look down at the wolf still nuzzling your hand.  

Steve snickers and leans down next to you; he reaches over to pet Bucky but he growls in warning. Steve puts his hands up in surrender and chuckles. “The towns people didn’t tell you about our kind?” 

“Your kind?” You look at him, confused. 

“We are a wolf/human kind, we shift to our wolf form during full moon. Bucky here is the alpha.”  

“What?! Are you jok-this is a joke, right?” You ask in disbelief. You go to stand up but Bucky whines and puts his front half on you, nuzzling into your stomach. 

Steve chuckles. “Somebody likes you.”  

“So, you’re telling me that the whole, alpha, omega, beta crap exists?” He nods, you go quiet, not knowing what to say. 

Steve spends the next couple of hours explaining everything to you. From the pack, to why he isn’t in his wolf form, once you have a mate you can shift whenever you like but they still have ruts/heats after the full moon. Steve left with the request of watching over Bucky, you agreed, and that he’d be back in a few days. He also said to be careful, once full moon is over and Bucky shifts back, he’d go into rut. 

You stay on the floor for a while, Bucky still half on you and asleep. When he does wake up, he sits up and start to rip the bandage off.  

“Bucky wait-it's not done healing,” you go to stop him but he gets it fully off, showing that the wound is healed. “What the..?” You whisper, tracing the area the wound was at.  

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” You giggle. He sticks his tongue out and pulls his lips back, almost like a smile. 

He pauses and sniffs the air, he tilts his head, you giggle. He leans towards you, sniffing. He all but shoves his cold, wet nose into your neck, inhaling deeply. You yelp and giggle, trying and failing to push him away.  

“Bucky!” You laugh. He licks up your neck and you laugh harder. He nuzzles his head into your chest.  

“You’re a goofball. Listen, I have to go out and grab my stuff from my hotel if I’m gonna stay here for the next couple of days, okay?” His head pops up, ears flat and whines. “Awe,” you coo and scratch behind his ears. “I’ll be back, I promise. Wanna walk me to the edge of the woods?” He jumps up and runs to the door.  

You leave the bag you brought and head out, once off the mini porch Bucky stops, he motions to his back.  

“You want me to get on your back?” You ask in a slight condescending tone. He was huge, on all four legs he was just past your waist, but you weren’t skinny and you’d worry you might hurt him.  

He nods. “Won’t I crush you?” He rolls his eyes and waits. You sigh, giving in you straddle his back, legs wrapped around him just in front of his back legs, arms around his neck. Once you’re settled, he takes off, your grip tightens.  

Once you get almost to the edge of the woods he stops and lets you off.  

“You’ll wait for me?” He nods and lays in the brush out of sight.  

You head off to your hotel, grabbing your stuff and checking out. You get back to the woods, “Bucky!” You call out. Nothing. You walk a little further, where he had been laying was a pool of blood. 

Bucky!  

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

Six of Crows Russian Edition

Today I found this gorgeous gem at the bookstore!

So a few years ago I moved overseas to live in a Russian speaking country. I am not in Russia, for the record. The national language here is not Russian, but it is commonly spoken in my city.

Today at the bookstore I looked for a copy of Crooked Kingdom for the cast of Shadow and Bone to sign this May when I go to A Storm of Shadows and Crows convention in Paris. I don't own a copy of SOC or KC in English and there's no chance of finding one where I live. The next best option was getting a book in the local language and calling it a souvenir of my time abroad. To my delight I found this lovely Russian edition of Six of Crows!

More stunning artwork below.

There were multiple versions of the books to choose from. The original art and the Netflix artwork were available too. The most impressive part was finding copies of the original covers WITHOUT the Netflix sticker. (Haha, suck it Netflix.) To the right, not pictured were King of Scars and Rule of Wolves.

I've never seen this cover variation before. It was an exciting find!

The Russian version I bought is illustrated by (I assume Russian?) artist Eva Eller.

I didn't see a copy of Crooked Kingdom with illustrations by the same artist at this bookstore, but it must exist. Mine was the last copy of SOC with the Russian artwork. Maybe it was sold out?

Google Translate titles the book Six of Ravens, lol. But that's just a translation error because a little google-foo showed that ворона (pronounced vorona) means crow. Interestingly, while typing the title, I learned that вор (pronounced vor) means thief. Interesting how similar the words crow and thief are in Russian. Checks out.

Above is the art printed on the side of the pages. Love how it still includes the side of the pages colored, just like the original books.

The hardcover underneath the jacket is a crow. It's not the same as pictured on the original CK cover, but it is similar. Love the messy, broken, bent feathers, yet the crow is still able to fly. Metaphor for our six characters? Absolutely!

The book was wrapped in cellophane so I didn't realize there was even more art inside! Here is the inner cover. IT'S BEAUTIFUL! The back is the same. It captures the foggy haze of Ketterdam so well.

The flaps of the book jacket are images from the inner cover. But there's a cracked texture over them that gives it a gorgeous grittiness.

The candle is the left side of the inner book jacket. Sorry the image isn't flat, I didn't want to damage the jacket by straightening it out.

The right side of the book jacket shows all the Crows!

Let's appreciate how Matthias looks snow pale and serious. Inej is taller than Nina -- she must be standing on a step stool. No clue why both of their eyes are closed, especially when Nina is the one pointing to the paper. They are lovely. Kaz has on his scheming face. Jesper is as handsome as every version of him should be. And Wylan looks bored AF because A.) he's already memorized the map he drew or B.) he can't read whatever document Kaz has in front of them. Wait, no, Wylan is making heart eyes at Jesper. All of the above can be true.

Inside is a small illustration at the beginning of each chapter, which changes with each section.

You can also see the Crow's names written in Cyrillic. Inej, Kaz, Nina, and Matthias translate easily. Jesper uses the д (letter D) and ж (pronounced like zhe) letter combination that makes his name sound like Zhesper since there is no J in Cyrillic. It's worth pointing out (again) that Wylan's name does not translate perfectly. There is no W in the Cyrillic alphabet. (As someone who also has a W in their name, I sympathize with Wylan here.) I'm no expert in Russian, but I'm pretty sure -- with the help of google translate -- that Wylan is pronounced as Oo-ai-len. Poor boy can't catch a break.

Each of the five section of the book use different chapter art. They all do an excellent job capturing the atmosphere.

The paper is so thin that you can easily see the printing on the opposite side. Not ideal for an edition that's otherwise this lovely. Oh well.

Given that Ravka is fantasy Russia, it's not a surprise to find the Grisha Verse books in Russian.

I am so excited to bring this book to Paris for the cast to sign!

[lesbiansupernatural]

I feel the need to mention that I learned what knotting was at the age of like 5... Now you may ask "how the fuck could you learn what it was before you even knew how to read?"

Well...

I have loved dogs from a very young age, and so has my mom. So when I grew up we had this gorgeous and HUGE book of a bunch of dog breeds. I loved looking at the pictures. In this book there was also a section about how wolves turned into dogs, how they are related to foxes, and about anatomy. So, on one of these pages, there was a picture of two dogs stuck together, so obviously I asked my mom what that was all about. And my mom, always willing to answer my questions, explained how dogs mate, how the male swells and how its so that no other dog can come and try to mate with the female immediately after

[spencstan]

Six of Crows re-read

(i also did this for the shadow and bone trilogy so read that if you want to)

spoiler alert obiously

i'm SO EXCITED FOR THIS this is my comfort book (with crooked kingdom of course)

JOOST HI

oo fun fact this was my first grishaverse book and i read it with no context whatsoever except that the mc is an emo boy and morally grey

so IMAGINE my pure confusion when JOOST appeared

i was like ?????? weird take on morally grey character but ok

joost trying to figure out how to flirt with a girl is a mood

anyone wanna teach us how to???

i kinda wanna skip this part so i can see the crows..

but i won't don't worry

(won't I?

"I think Yuri may be quarantined"

aaaand?

so are we you are not special

i feel like it's very important for me to mention that i read this book in spanish first

and then i got into the fandom and i was like who the fuck is the wraith? i only know El Espectro

Heartender who??? ooo you mean Cardio

Tidemakers? nope, i only know Maremotores

for real i was so confused i had to re-read it in english (not that i mind tho)

say whatever you want about the spanish version but we have to agree that this design is pretty af

another one yay: "Retvenko was a Squaller" vs. "Retvenk era un Impulsor"

(should i also say that in my pfd english version the book is 294 pages long and in my pdf spanish version its 532????) (i think it's because in the english one the speces are way less like the lines are so close together wtf

i've decided that i'm bored so i'll be skiping this chapter

anya is super badass tho

skdgfalsdgfliaysvfascvhjl yesssssss inej

Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

KAZ

INEJ

I MISSED THEM

omg now i can picture amita and freddy SDJGKASKGLASG THIS IS AMAZING

we interrupt our regularly scheduled program to watch the shadow and bone trailer once again to hear freddy's beautiful voice

ok moving on!

now hear me out i'm giving you all permission to make fun of kaz for this one: Dirtyhands = Manos Sucias

hello i am Kaz Manos Sucias. nice to meet you!

AAAAA

AAAAAAAAAA

JESPER FAHEY

JESPER LOVE HI

SJDGHFKAHSGDLAJSDFSJ,AHFLHDSGF

I MISSED HIM OMG

OMG NOW I CAN PICTURE HIM AS KIT

can you tell jesper is one of my favourite characters?

i really love the fact that kaz is pissed about the murder of that ambassador ONLY because he can´t figure out how it happen

he´s such a nerd

i can't believe one of the firts things we hear jesper say is threathen to kill someone by writing "forgive me" with bullets

AND HE CALLS HIS GUNS "BABIES" OMG

picture saying hi baby and wylan thinkin he's talking to him but actually jesper's talking to one of his guns

Jesper rolled his eyes. "It's about sending a message. What's the point of a dead guy with forg written on his chest?."

"Compromise," Kaz said. "I'm sorry does the trick and uses fewer bullets."

ooo thank god we have kaz to come up with creative solutions /j /s

honestly i love how they talk about kaz's cane like it's the scariest weapon ever (which it kind of is)

nothing will ever disappoint me more than finding out that in english their gang name is "the Dregs". like i don't even know for sure what that means

in spanish is "Los Indeseables" (the undesirables?) which sounds a lot more badass

no hate tho i like the dregs

but i was confused af bc i expected it to be sometihng like "the undesirables" or"the unwanted" or whatever

and it said "the dregs"

which in the translator means something like shit or something

anways moving on:

If he'd (kaz) ever been a little boy

i love how lowkey all the crows think he was just born exactly like he is now

imagine a baby kaz all dressed in black and threatening people

cute

"No mourners," Jesper said as he tossed his rifle to Rotty

"No funerals," the rest of the Dregs murmured in reply. Among them, it passed for "good luck".

YES

YESSS

i wonder what wylan's doing right now :))

i can't wait for the next book where he has a pov

the first time i read this book i literally looked at the title of every chapter to see if he ever got one (i was disappointed to say the least :((((

Besides, she was the Wraith - the only law that applied to her was gravity, and some days she defied that, too.

ma'am

marry me please

i'm gonna cry so hard once the show is out and we get to see inej omg

me simp

That Kaz had chosen Jesper to be one of his seconds was no surprise. Twitchy as Jepser was, with or without his revolvers, he was at his best in a fight, and she knew he'd do anything for Kaz.

idk why but i just love it every time kaz implies or shows that he cares or trusts jesper

it makes me soft

But every one of Inej's senses told her that was not how this was going to play out. Her father would have said the shadows were about their business tonight. Something bad was going to happen here.

underrated saying from Inej's father right there

"I'm a business man," he told her."No more, no less"

"You're a thief, Kaz."

"Isn't that what I just said?"

i-

i see no lies here

not to be annoying but i hc jesper as adhd (i mean is pretty much as canon as wylan's dyslexia) so i'm gonna write here every time i see evidence :)

jesper with adhd part 1: impulsivity

Jesper snorted. "Stomach, spine. What's next, spleen?"

"Shut it" Oomen snarled. The rules of parley dictated that only the lieutenants could speak once negotiations had begun. Jesper mouthed "sorry" and elaboratedly pantomimed locking his lips shut.

he know he couldn't speak but couldn't stop himself from making a comment (i relate way too much to that lmao)

hoestly poor jesper he had to watch hid friend get shot and kaz do nothing about it

i would've been mad too

"I like it when men beg," she said. "But this isn't the time for it"

KAHGFAHLGSFGASFLGSAFS

this is one of the best quotes in the book by far

YASSS KAZ POV

Kaz could have tol Jesper that he knew he wasn't dirty, reminded him that he'd trusted him eough to make him his only real second in a fight that could have gone badly wrong tonight.

cute

but kaz is petty af

he didn't even have a reason not to tell jesper that!

i love that kaz knows inej is following him but doesn't say anything because he wants to wait until she's ready

i LOVE the scene where kaz in in the van eck mantion /srs

idk why but it's so good

And, of course, there was the mystery of Van Eck's son.

wonder what that could be!!! /s

He grinned at her (...)

"Hmm." she said noncommittally, pretending to examine one of her knives, determined to ignore that grin.

KANEJ YESS

HE'S BASICALLY SHOWERING IN FRONT OF HER OMG

this is so funny poor inej is getting flustered

"And I'll need Wylan waiting at the Crow Club tomorrow night."

YES WYLAN OMG

One minute he made her blush and the next he made her want to commit murder

happens to the best of us :/

"Please, my darling Inej. treasure of my heart won't you do me the honor of acquiring me a new hat?"

if kaz doesn't say this on the show we riot

agreed?

it's so amazing how nina found a way to use her powers to get money instead of having to like steal and murder like the rest in the gang

NINA'S POV YESSS HIII

nina and inej omg

their friendship is just perfect

POOR MATTHIAS HE HAS TO FIGHT THE WOLVES

i would straight up cry

Matthias was dreaming again. Dreaming of her

i'm gonna cry damn it

this is the enemies-to-lovers we all needed

jesper has adhd part 2:

"Jesper was supposed to wait until three bells." said the pale boy

"It is three bells, Kaz." replied a small girl (...)

"Since when is Jesper punctual?" the boy complained with a glance at his watch

the time blindness come one

(btw i love the fact that kaz plans around jesper's time blindness instead of like threatening him to be on time)

i really love how every one feels the need to take the time to say/think that the masks are ugly

its so unnecessary lmao

yessss inej is a badass that kills monster we stan

and matthias is lowkey impressed lmao

as he should

"Thank you, Jesper," said Nina

"You're very welcome, gorgeous. See, Kaz? That's how the civilised folk do"

THESE TWO OMG

JESPER IS THE LOML

INEJ OMG LOOK:

She stepped aside as if she's known he was coming, languidly hooking her heel behind his ankle. Matthias let out a loud grunt as he landed on the stones

(...) "Clumsy, this one," the bronze girl said impassively.

i-

that's what happen when you underestimate her bitch

AAAAAAA

PEOPLE

PEOPLE

TIME TO FREAK OUT

WYLAN IS HERE

AND HE'S DOODLING STOP IT'S SO CUTE

ok jesper has adhd part 3 i think:

"Just how crazy is he?" asked Jesper, fingers drumming on the pearl handles of his revolvers.

ok first of all: stimming

second of all: hyperactivity

i rest my case

ok 2 or 3 things here

"I believe you know Nina," Brekker continued. "The lovely girl freeing you is Inej. (...) and this is Wylan, the best demolitions expert in the Barrel"

"Raske is better," Inej said

The boy looked up, ruddy gold hair flopping in his eyes, and spoke for the first time. "He's not better. He's reckless"

"He knows his trade"

"So do I"

ok 1: kaz calling inej lovely omg kanej

2: YES WYLAN STANDING UP FOR HIMSELF

2.5: kaz calling him the best cute af

3: honestly why do people think wylan is like an innocent soft boy or whatever. he's in a room full of murderers and thieves and the first thing he does is correct them and stand up for himself

like i wish i could do that

i would be crying like a bitch

AAAAAAAA

"Meet Wylan Van Eck"

KHDSGFALSGFIASGFAL

HI WYLAN BABY

YESSS JESPER'S POV NOW

I'M SO HAPPY also look at this it's the first thing in his pov

Jesper stared at Wylan

do i sense some wesper?????

ok everyone is being so mean to him right now

they are aclling him useless and an idiot and other shit

poor boy honestly he had to deal with this + taking part of a heist he is definetly not ready for + he has to hide the fact that he can't write or read

it so distrubing that kaz is literally the nicest one to wylan right now

"See that? Hidden depths." (...)"He's good enough at demo, and he's got a fine hand for sketching, thanks to all those pricey tutors."

(...)

"There you have it," Kaz said to Jesper. "Marketable skills. Wylan is watching you, Helvar"

GET READY

ARE Y'ALL READY?

OK THEN:

"Scheming face," Jesper whispered to Inej.

She nodded. "Definetly."

THEIR FRIENDSHIP OMG

AND THIS QUOTE

I NEED IT ON THE SHOW THEY BETTER GIVE IT TO US

"Who's Mark" damn wylan (but pretty good comeback to jesper tho)

"What's the easiest way to steal a man's wallet?

"Knife to the throat?" asked Inej.

"Gun to the back?" said Jesper.

"Poison in his cup?" suggested Nina.

"You're all horrible," said Matthias.

tag yourself i'm jesper

KJSFGAL kaz just told wylan to tell him everything he know about his dad's company

and he said he doesn't know and kaz was like "and you never looked trough his documents????

AND THEN HE GOT SAD AND SAID HE HADN'T (and kaz believed him this is sad)

AND NOW JESPER CALLED HIIM USELESS

ok you know i love you jes but if you keep this up

idk i can't do anything you're a sharpshooter

but stiiiiiil

LMAO MATTHIAS ACTUALLY THOUGHT HE COULD BEAT KAZ

nice try

demjin

*insert spongebob voice* demjin

WE'RE GONNA TAKE A MOMENT NOW TO APPRECIATE INEJ GAHFA

BECAUSE KAZ DOESN'T

The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.

*ugly crying*

Many boys will bring you flowers. But some day you'll meet a boy who will learn your favourite flower, your favourite song, your favourite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart.

*uglier crying*

TANTE HELLEN IF YOU DON'T GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE

SOMEONE PLEASE STAB HER FOR ME

jesper has adhd part ?? (i have dyscalculia you can't expect me to remember the number):

That sound - the swift, shocking report of gunfire - called the scattered, irascible, permanently seeking part of his mind into focus like nothing else.

do i really need to explain this?

ok just in case.. an adhd brain doesn't actually have a deficit of attention(the name just sucks) it's problem with controling that attention. the brain is always looking for new sources of dopamine which is why it shifts its focus so much

i love that jes thinks of matthias as "tha giant"

like sir

have you seen yourself?

you're tall af

HE GOT SHOT

WHY DID I FORGET JESPER GETS SHOT IN THE LEG HERE

"Close your eyes!"

"You can't kiss me from down there, Wylan"

"Just do it!"

i love the energy BUT NOW IT'S NOT THE TIME JES

YESS WYLAN SHOW THEM THEY WERE WRONG CALLING YOU USELESS

inej just stabed some guy int the d

good for her!

KAZ YESSSS HI

AWWW SHE'S WORRIED HE DOESN'T HAVE HIS CANE

KANEJ FOR LIFE

oh no wylan got shot too???? (just barely but stilllll por baby)

my Wraith omggg

ok 3 things about this:

Without another word, he tipped Oomen into the sea.

"No!" Wylan shouted, leaning over the railing, his face pale, stunned eyes tracking Oomen in the waves. (...)

Jesper set his hand on Wylan's shoulder. "Let it go."

"It's not right-"

"Wylan," Jesper said, giving him a little shake."Maybe your tutors didn't cover this lesson, but you do not argue with a man covered in blook and a knife up his sleeve"

1. wesper yasssss

2. wylan just argued with a mant hat had just tacken the eye out of someone. he literally called him out for being an asshole. like damn wylan is brave af i love him

3. do you think seeing kaz trow the guy out of the boat reminded wylan of when the same thing happened to him???? this makes me sad

he's brave and a good person and i just-

"Man with a knife, remember?" he said over his shoulder.

"Man with a gun!" Jesper called after him

this had no right being so funny

AND THEN KAZ GAVE HIM THE MIDDLE FINGER STOP I CAN'T

nina is the biggest kanej shiper no one can tell me i'm wrong

unrelated but if jesper had gone to the Little Palace and had studied there with nina they 100% would've had a crush on Zoya and bonded over it

like you can't tell me those two bisexual disaster wouldn't be absolutely in love with Zoya

jesper has adhd part ??:

Jesper scrubbed the back of his neck, touched his hands to his gunds, returned to his neck. He always seemed to be in motions

hyperactivity right there

and restlessness

"Do you know the best way to find Grisha who don't want to be found?" (...)

"Seems to be if they don't want to be found, you should just let them be" (jesper says this)

this conversation must be so stressful to him omg

LMAO JESPER CUT MATTHIAS HAIR THIS IS SO FUNNY

AND HE SHAVED HIM

ok you all know i love all of them but they can be sooo stupid

like wylan wrote no names on the drawing and he's excuse is that he doesn't know fjerdan?

AND THAT'S NOT EVEN TRUE he literally said he learned school fjerdan which means he should know how to write it too (we know why he can't but the tohers don't)

and even then like the excuse doesn't make any sense. why would having the original name be usefull if no one can fucking read it????

the worst part tho? NO ONE QUESTIONED HIM

THEY WERE LIKE "yup makes sense" AND WENT ON WITH THEIR DAY

i wondered how they didn't figure wylan's secret sooner but now i now

it's because theya re idiots

"I'm just doing my job. Stop glaring at me"

wylan baby let's not make the gigant mad

Jesper knocked his head against the hull and cast his eyes heavenward. "Fine. But if Pekka Rollins kills us all, I'm going to get Wylan's ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost."

Brekker's lips quirked. "I'll just hire Matthias ghost to kick your ghost's ass."

"My ghost won't associate with your ghost," Matthias said primply, and then wondered if the sea air was rotting his brain.

i had to put this here i don't want to get murdered by the fandom

jesper, inej and nina have the BEST friendship

I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE JES AND INEJ TOGETHER ON NETFLIX

"I know some people don't understand, but Kaz told me ... he said it was my choice, that he wouldn't be the one to mark me again."

i love this because it happen when they had just met

he did it because he understands her trauma and he respects her not because he loves her (i doubt he did at the time)

Kaz had been impressed with the sketches. (...)

"Just learn to take a compliment. Kaz doesn't hand them out often."

I'M SO PROUD OF WYLAN

and yess kaz only compliments wylan (and inej but that's sarcastic so it doesn't count) because he's a proud dad

"And you don't belong here, either."

"I beg your pardon, merchiling?"

"We don't need a sharpshooter for Kaz's plan, so what's your job - other than stalking around making everyone angsty?"

He shrugged. "Kaz trusts me."

Wylan snorted and picked up his pen. "Sure about that?"

DAMN WYLAN DESTROYED HIM

also

"If you aren't born with every advantage, you learn to take your chances."

"I wasn't-" Wylan left off and set down his pen. (...)

aww cute neurodivergent boyfriends bonding

Wylan had turned back to his work, his disappointment obvious. For some reason, Jesper felt disappointed, too.

ajgflasjgfjagslfiuusgflgdfsgdflasdgfsd

wesper

aww jes checks on inej every morning and every night i love him

"Thank you for keeping me in this world when fate seemed determined to drag me to the next. I owe you a life debt."

Nina blushed deeply. "I was teasing, Inej"

LJFGALKGFALGA another cute friendship right there

(and i can see why people ship them romantically)

STOP INEJ AND JES ARE BONDING SO MUCH (page 127 so i can go back and read it lmao)

Van Eck writes to Wylan every week, and Wylan doesn't even open the letters

"They just said the same thing again and again: If you're reading this, the you know how much I wish to have you home. Or I pray that you read these words and think of all you've left behind."

should i kill him? anyone want to join me?

Inej bumped her shoulder against his."Then at least we're both the same kind of stupid." (...)

"You're too good for him, you know?"

"I know. So are you"

jes and her bonding over their stupid crush on a white boy

Because I've been looking for an excuse to talk to you for two days.

jfsfdajdhmgkfutdjrgsg ok i can't blame them for having a crush on him anymore

this chapter is full of kanej i love it

"What do you want, then"

You, Inej. You forever.

jksdgfoagsdfgsdgfklasgdflaghsldfgksdgfkahgsdfghjlkf

kaz's backstory makes me sad

"When we get our money, you can burn kruge to keep you warm," said Kaz. (...)

"I´m gonna pay someone to burn my kruge for me."

Kaz fell into step beside him. "Why don't you pay someone else to pay someone to burn your kruge for you? That's what big players do."

"You know what the really big bosses do? They pay someone to pay someone ...". Their voices trailed off as they tomped ahead, and Matthias and the others followed.

JES AND KAZ HAVE THE BEST CONVERSATIONS

i can't believe we get to see nina and matthias meet and their whole backstory in less than a month omg

"It's not natural for women to fight."

"It's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand."

QUEEN

YOU TELL HIM

oh no the dead grisha

this part breaks my heart every time

"Do you have a different name for killing when you wear a uniform to do it?"

.....i'm just gonna leave this quote right here

anyways acab

stop nina tried to kill the survivor so they wouldn't suffer but she couldn't do it

and jesper did it for her without hesitation i wanna cry

and inej didn't want to do it either i want to hug them

"Because our crime is existing. Our crime is what we are"

..........

i'm gonna leave this here again

do with it what you will

"Don't mock what you don't understand."

"My mockery offends you? My people would welcome you laughter in place of this barbarity"

i- this conversation is so important

AAAAA JES AND WY ARE A GREAT TEAM I LOVE THEM

WYLAN TROWS BOMBS TOGIVE JESPER TIME TO GET READY TO SHOOT

INEJ AND KAZ ARE A GREAT TEAM TOO

THEY LITERALLY DID THE SCENE LIKE IN THE AVENGERS (but without the shield WHICH MAKES IT BETTER)

Jesper shouldered his rifle. "Wylan earned his keep."

Wylan gave a little jump at the sound of his name. "I did?"

YES BABY YOU DID GREAT

kaz getting self-conscious for his hair is pure comedy

but nina how can you say that have you see his hair on the show???? it's perfect

"Remeber our friend Mark?"

HELP I CAN'T

"Any other impossible feats you'd like us to accomplish?"

The bearest smile flikered over Kaz's lips. "I'll make you a list."

once again jesper and kaz being besties

unrelated but nikolai and jesper would love each other

the amount of sass they have between them it's unparalleled

"Mmm," Inej murmured, taking a sip from her mug. "Maybe you're just not enough."

DAMN

ma'am marry me please

kaz fainted damn poor boy

unrelated unce again but this is so much betetr than shadow and bone

like you can tell leigh improved so much

her characters are better and their arcs are better developed

the writing itself it's better

or maybe i'm just biased because i love soc so much but i think she definetly improved

INEJ IS TRYING TO GIVE HIM SPACE EVEN WHEN SHE'S TRAPPED AND LOCKED ON THE WAGON

I JUST - THEY KNOW EACH OTHER SO MUCH

Though he'd trusted her with his life countless times, it felt much more frightening to trust her with his shame.

Inej had once offered to teach him how to fall. "The trick is not getting knocked down," he'd told her with a laugh. "No, Kaz," she's said, "the trick is in getting back up"

inej is smart af

Kaz was usually unshakeable during a job, but now he was on edge, and Jesper didn't know why. Part of him wanted to ask, though he knew that was the stupid part, the hopeful farmboy who picked the worst possible person to care about, who searched for signs in things that he knew deep down meant nothing - when kaz chose him for a job, when Kaz played along with one of his jokes. He could have kicked himself. He's finally seen the infamous Kaz Brekker without a stich of clothing, and he'd been too worried about ending up on a pike to pay proper attention.

ok i got a couple of things to say about this part

first of all it makes me so sad that jes cares so much for someone who dosn't deserve him. because no hate to kaz but they would never work as a couple and kaz already treats him like shit most of the time

i think this part shows who a lot about who jesper really is. a boy that grew up having to hide parts of himself, who thinks he's worth nothing but it's smart and capable, who's loyal and brave and caring but doesn't even know it himself. he's someone who feels he doesn't deserve good things and thinks he's not good enough, and that's why he unds up in all the wrong places with the wrong people. he left uni bc he fell in with the gangs, because he didn't think he was smart enough or even prepared to be in studying in the university. jesper is constantly hiding behind a mask or running from things because he's scared of not being enough

an kaz is everything jes in a way wishes he could be. kaz is secure in himself (at least on the outside), he's stable, he's smart, he's "unshakeable". and most of all, he doesn't care about others (we know that's not true but that's how he presents himself)

and that's the thing that causes jesper all his problems. because he's insecure because he thinks he's not good enough for the poeple or things he cares about. and he's always trying to do what's best for his loved ones: he went to the ice court to pay his debt for his father, he follows kaz everywhere beacause he cares about him, he offered to read to wylan (knowing it wouldn't be easy for him to be still that long).

and yeah it often doesn't work out becuase he's messy and he has problems but he tries. and he hates that. he hates that he cares so much about people because at the end of the day, that's what makes him feel like he's not good enough

one more thing and i'm done i promise

unpopular opinion but i love that leigh made jesper have a crush on kaz. 1 beacuse it's refreshing to see someone not get otgether with his first crush. and 2 because i love that it shows that we sometimes get attached to people that are not good for us, but that we can learn to move on. jesper ended with wylan who respects him and values him, unlike kaz

ok i'm sorry that was probably all bs

oo one more thing, jesper definetly has rsd (rejection sensitive disphoria), which is something most poeple with adhd have

"My father used to take me everywhere with him"

this is so sad. bc they probably had a good relationship when he was little. and then they figured he coudln't read and now his father treats him like shit

it's even worse than if he haf been horrible from the beginning because wylan knows he can be a good father. and so he thinks it's his fault and he deserves to be treated like that. i hate van eck

"You're cuter when you're smart"

(...)

"Definitely cuter when you're smart"

wesper yesssss

i love them so much

ok but why do people think jesper is stupid. like the boy just made a bunch of criminals pass out by mixing some chemicals

and he was going to the university at like 15

AAAAND NOW THEY KNOW HE'S A FABRIKATOR

amazing plot twist

also:

Wylan coughed. Flirting with him might actually be more fun that annoying him, but it was a close call.

oooo come on jesper we all know you just love getitng him to blush

and you love him

who said that? definitely not me, nope

awwww jesper misses being around animals that's cute

imagine him coming home to wylan one day with a puppy because he just couldn't resist

cute

Better terrible truths than kind lies

just leaving here more of inej's wisdom

ok this may be a reach but jesper has adhd part ???

Yellow Protocol? Red Protocol? He couldn't remember which was which. (...)

"The alarm was Yellow Protocol, a sector disturbance."

Jesper pushed at his temples. "I don't remember what that means"

a bad working memory? sounds familiar

kaz loves puzzles

it's canon

"I love puzzles. Trickery is just my native tongue."

this part where wylan and jesper see the banner made with grisha's kefta kills me every time

I would have worn purple, Jesper thought, if I'd joined the Second Army. (...) He'd beenwilling, even eager to risk capture and execution as a thief and hired gun. Why was it worse to think about being hunted as a Grisha?

this makes me want to cry so much

another thing super sad: the fact that since his father is Kaelish and had some supersititons towards grisha, jesper grew up wondering if his own father was scared of him. he had to hide his powers and he was almost taught to be afraid of them

"Is it safe to leave them, you know-"

"Alive? I'm not big on killing unconscious men."

"We could wake them up"

WYLAN

NO

damn the boy needs therapy

it's amazing how nothing went like they planned

not a single thing

PEOPLE GET READY

ARE YOU READY?

NEITHER AM I BUT WHO CARES

"What do you like?"

"Music. Numbers. Equations. They are not like words. They...they don't get mixed up."

ok dude the clues are right there he's basically saying it

"If only you could talk to girls in equations."

There was a long silence, and then, eyes trained on the notch they'd created in the link, Wylan said, "Just girls?"

Jesper restrained a grin. "No. Not just girls." It really was a shame they were all probably going to die tonight.

wylan really said a straight man?? couldn't be me

this is the definition of bi panic "jesper restrained a grin" bitch we saw that

btw i love the slow burn

like they hint something here but they don't actually start liking each other until much later and they don't get together until almost the end of ck

i also love that the fact that they both like guys is like out in the open now. bc i'm not a fan of when queer characters have a crush and there's the whole thing of "are they queer too or not?"

like they both know htey are queer. but they don't get together right away bc they have to start liking each other before. they don't get together bc they are the only queer mlm characters

matthias fake betrayal killed me

i tought it was real

I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept fom this oath.

this is just-

also foreshadowing?

YAYY KUWEI HI

There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong, and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.

She's laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.

if i ever have a s/o and they don't tell me this at least once i don't want it

He needed to tell her... what? That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn't pull himslef together into some smeblance of a man for her

THIS

THIS IS LOVE RIGHT THERE

they are the only straight couple that matters

everyone else go home

Wylan had scratches all over his cheeks and neck. He was beaming. Inej grabbed his hands and sqeezed.

so cute omg

"You can explain why our illustrious Shu scientist looks like one of Wylan's school pals along the way"

KAZ

i mean it's true but you didn't have to say it

KAZ IS SMILING OMG

EVERYONE FREAK OUT WITH ME

HE'S "grinning like and idiot" STOP I LOVE HIM

"We are all someone's mosnter, Nina"

"I will have you without armour, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all"

this part breaks my heart and i love it

"Stay," she oanted. Tears leaked from her eyes. "Stay till the end"

"And after," he said. "And always."

i just- helnik is perfect

AWWW JESPER MISSES WYLAN

my daily dosis of wesper :)

ok but in like 2 pages jesper tought of wylan like 10 times bc he's sad wy isn't with him

Jesper scanned the empty deck. He's assumed Wylan would come up to see them off. (...)

Jesper knew he was being selfish and stupid, but some petty part of him wondered if Wylan had deliberately kept away from him on the journey back. Maybe now that the job was complete and he was on his way to his share of the haul, Wylan was done slumming with criminals.

*charles boyle's insinuating voice* and why do you care so much???

btw YOU ARE WRONG. HE'S LITERALLY GOING OUT OF HIS WAY TO BE WITH YOU EVEN THOUGH HE CAN'T SPEAK

this scene where we find out the truth about wylan hurts so much but it's one of my favourites idk why

I LOVE THAT EVERYONE IS AS MAD AS I AM ABOUT THE LETTERS NOW

"Your're a fool," Jesper snarled. "He smarter than most of us put together, and he deserves a better father than you."

YES TELL HIM

the fact that wylan just heard him say that omg

"Deserved" amended Van Eck. He blew the whislte twice.

SOMEONE BETTER GRAB ME BEFORE I KILL HIM MYSLEF

THAT IDIOT

I HATE HIM SO MUCH

I'M GONNA CRY CAN SOMEONE KILL HIM FOR ME

Jesper screamed in rage and raised his guns.

YES EXACLTY WHAT I MEANT

JUST KILL HIM RIGHT NOW

"I'm not big on bludding, am I Inej?"

"Not as a rule"

Van Eck's lip curled. "And why is that?"

"Because he'd rather cheat," said the boy who was not Kuwei Yul-Bo in perfect, unaccented Kerch.

THIS WAS PERFECT

THE BEST WAY TO REVEAL THAT

(...), and Jesper flinched

baby he recognized wylan's voice

The Shu boy held out a hand. "Pay up, Kaz"

BITCH THIS IS AMAZING

THIS BOY MADE A BET WITH A CRIMINAL THAT HIS OWN FATHER WAS GOING TO TRY TO KILL HIM

AND HE WON THE BET

A nearly perfect replica of Kuwei Yul-Bo stood before them, but he had Wylan's voice, his mannerisms, and - though Kaz could see the fear and hurt in his golden eyes - Wylan's surprising courage, too.

i love it when they compliment him

my boy deserves all the compliments ever

AND KAZ IS PROUD OF HIS SON WE ALL KNOW THIS

Wylan cuold draw a perfectt elevation. He's made a drill that could cut throu Grisha glass from parts of a gate and scavenged bits of jewellery. So what if he couldn't read

this is taking me to some real places

i may cry you've been warned

WYLAN DIDN'T CARE THAT HE MAY BE STUCKED LOOKING LIKE KUWEI

this is making me cry

"A fool would have been waiting to be smashed to bits on that ship. And as for "traitor", you've called me worse in the last few minutes alone."

EXACTLY

YOU TELL HIM WYLAN

Instead, in that moment of threat, when he should have thought only of the fight, he looked at Inej.

BABY

i would've done the same tho she's pretty

amita is sooo pretty i'm gonna die when the show comes out

Jesper was staring at Wylan, his eyes roving over the black hair, the golden eyes. "Why?" he said at last. "Why would you do this?"

nothing to say here except: wesper

You... how many times was it you standing beside me on the deck at night when I tought it was Kuwei?"

"Every time."

i want to cry so bad

"Why does it matter?"

"I don't know!" Jesper said angrily. "Maybe I liked your stupid face."

a very staright and platonic thing to say of course

i know jes we all liked his stupid face

"Jesper made a mistake," said Wylan. "A stupid mistake, but he didn't set out to betray anyone."

YES WYLAN DEFEND YOUR BOYFRIEND

And maybe he'd kept him in the dark about Wyllan because he wanted to punish him a little

even kaz know they like each other come on

Jesper sat with elbows on knees, head in hands. Wylan deside him wearing th face of a stranger.

wylan give him a hug fro me please

he needs it

"Scheming face," murmured Jesper.

"Definitely," agreed Wylan.

i miss inej already

And I'm going to get my girl. Inej could never be his, not really, but he would find a way to give her the freedom he´d promised her so long ago.

i'm ugly crying and so what?

and now we're done....

i want to read this book again omg this is unhealthy

[bisexualklausmikaelson]

and all the magic we made (12/20)

a/n: well i had another mental breakdown :/ so here's another sporadic update for you all :) thanks for sticking through with this story!

-

Rebekah runs around, from store to store, touching and feeling every item of clothing that catches her eye.

Sparkles, sequins, furs, silks -

Kol quickly realizes how grave of a mistake this shopping trip with his sister has suddenly become.

The length of his stay in his hometown still remain indefinite - last night was a surprise, seeing his niece and not to mention his brother’s infamous Hayley Marshall was certainly something he wasn’t expecting.

If anything, their interactions serve as inspiration for his next move.

Hence the dress shopping, of course.

“So tell me, brother,” Rebekah hums, fingers grasping at a white dress, holding it against her body as she stares at herself in the mirror. “Why are we here anyway? Are we shopping for a special someone? A girl, perhaps?” She stammers on.

“Bekah,” Kol chides. “Such curiosity will bite you in the arse,” he remarks, snatching the dress away from her and placing it back on the shopping rack.

She rolls her eyes, sighing as she follows him down towards the aisle of more colourful textures and fabrics. “Oh c’mon,” she breathes. “You know how starved I am for some hot gossip.”

He doesn’t answer her until she grabs his sleeve and starts whining.

Tell meeeee!!

“Fine-” Kol huffs, shrugging her hand away.

Then suddenly, the perfect dress catches his attention.

It’s a gorgeous purple gown with a mermaid tail flair at the bottom, the sleeves are adorned with pink pearls and with dark lace details.

“It is for a girl,” he confirms, grabbing a hold of the garment. “I like her, I wanna show her how much she means to me, there, satisfied?” He holds the dress up to show it to his sister.

Rebekah smiles, admiring the beauty of the outfit. “Very much,” she nods.

After that, he takes her through even more stores - a purse, jewelry and shoes is a must for a girl so special.

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing a matching set of pearl earrings and a necklace. “Now it’s your turn,” he comments. “You and Marcel, is this thing happening again?”

She takes her time, taking a deep breath before proceeding to offer him an answer. “I don’t know,” Rebekah tells him. “I care for him, deeply, I always have. I’m just not sure he feels the same for me.”

The look on his sister’s face brings him no joy - he’s used to teasing her about her crushes, even embarrassing her about them. But, this time, Kol feels sorry for her, she loved so honestly and so carelessly.

It filled him with both admiration and pity.

“So, you’re looking for closure?” He wonders.

She raises a brow, thinking of his words carefully. “I am not sure,” Rebekah admits. “Maybe,” she whispers softly.

Kol doesn’t say anything else for a bit - he picks out a pair of heels, a small clutch to complete the outfit. His sister approves of his every choice, it comes so easily to him, almost as if he didn’t need her guidance anymore.

“If you ask me,” he finally says. “I always thought you deserved much better than a man who is too afraid to love you.”

His sentence hits deeper than she can ever imagine.

She finds herself asking when exactly did her troublesome little brother decide to become all grown up.

-

Hayley’s weekends are often spent alone with her daughter.

Normally, other girls her age are busy studying for college exams, hitting up a club or party, going on dates -

Being with Hope Marshall beats all of that, she thinks.

Even when she wants to hang out with Klaus Mikaelson.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He smiles widely as he’s at the door - reaching over to pick up his daughter.

“Yep!” Hope cheers.

Now, her weekends are spent with him. Sandalwood scented cologne, old books in the backseat, a picture of his siblings hanging from the rear view mirror of his car -

“So this gallery,” Hayley says, sitting beside him as he begins to drive them towards their destination. Hope is all settled in her car seat, distracted by her toys. “Is this the type of date the old Klaus would take me out on?” Hayley adds on.

Klaus offers her a confused look. “Old Klaus? A date?” He asks.

She doesn’t offer him much - she simply presses her lips together until they become a thin white line. “C’mon,” she shrugs. “Don’t beat around the bush. Old Klaus did that a lot, I wanna know what this new Klaus is like.”

He hasn’t heard this allegory from her before - he supposes that it’s how she’s rationalizing their whole relationship.

You see, in Hayley’s head, there are two Klaus’.

Old Klaus was aloof, a rule-breaker, the type to get high with her on her couch, to cut class on the school rooftop, to leave without a kiss goodbye in the morning.

And then, there’s new Klaus. New Klaus is…different. He’s more determined, more direct about what he wants.

He’s kind - kinder than she last remembers him.

“Well,” at last, he stops the car, arriving at the gallery. “New Klaus likes to keep you on your toes,” he smirks, leading Hope and Hayley inside the paintings section.

“Ah,” she hums, looking around the large room. “So not much has changed,” she realizes, looking back and seeing the strangest smile on his face.

They both follow Hope into another inter-connected room where only one single portrait is hung up on the wall.

It’s a forest of wolves, tall trees, greenery - and a young Hayley Marshall sitting amongst them.

She stares at it awe, Hope freaks out, screaming and jumping up and down.

Mommy! It’s you! You’re in the painting!!

“New Klaus still likes to surprise you,” he reveals, allowing her to take it all in.

-

By the time Kol finishes his shopping, it’s basically evening.

Rebekah had gone home for a rest while he still continued his way down the street.

The trip there is quiet - his head is filled with thoughts, how he’s gunna see the girl of his dreams again, how she’s probably just eagerly waiting for him.

So eager in fact, that she opens the door for him before he can even knock on it.

“You,” Davina releases, with her hair in a messy bun, bunny pyjamas and slippers still on. “Came back,” she completes.

“That I did, darling,” Kol tells her, smiling. “Just as I had promised you, all those years ago,” he offers.

Davina thought she’d be more upset at him.

Their relationship had been a strange one - meeting per chance at the local occult club, unexpected encounters at the music store, catching each other reading Edgar Allan Poe by the marina -

They started dating soon after, and connected on every single level.

For the longest time, their relationship felt like fate.

Until, that is, Kol Mikaelson, along with all the other Mikaelsons, mysteriously left town.

(Although, granted, he did still keep contact with his lover, unlike the rest of his siblings, who were so far deep in self-hatred that they denied themselves of this).

“What do you have there?” Davina asks, noticing the large shopping bag in Kol’s hands.

He pulls out the gorgeous gown he had gotten. “It’s for you,” he informs her. “A present, if you will,” Kol specifies.

She admires the shimmering fabric, in awe of the very romance of this gesture. “It’s beautiful,” Davina releases. “Thank you,” she smiles, grabbing a hold of the garment.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he says, as fireworks go up in the sky.

They spell out the words

Will you have this dance with me?

-

The painting itself displays incredible technique - the composition, the brushstrokes, everything is so crisp and clear. Klaus’s talent has always been undeniable but, Hayley’s opinion of it has been…

“What do you think?”

A mystery.

“I’m guessing,” she starts, once she realizes exactly what she’s looking at. “This was made by old Klaus?” She presumes, looking at the date inscribed at the corner of the painting.

She stares at herself, immersed in the perfect image he had created of her.

“So it seems,” Klaus says. “However, new Klaus is the one who is brave enough to put it up in a gallery,” he informs her, taking a step closer so that he is right next to her.

Hayley looks and looks - passed the greenery of the scene, the tracks of dirt he had carefully painted on her arms and legs, big brown eyes burning a stare into her own.

“I always knew your work would go far,” she finally releases, realizing how carefully he had captured her loneliness in this painting.

And almost immediately, Klaus begins to laugh uncontrollably. “You said it was hideous,” he recalls, shaking his head.

She wonders why he made her look so sad in this piece - as if she had lost everything. And maybe, that’s how he saw it all, his betrayal and departure was written all over her face.

It’s the most honest thing she’s ever seen.

“Except this one,” she notes. “This piece is…”

“Nothing,” he intercepts, bravely placing a hand on her shoulder, catching her off guard. “Nothing, compared to the real thing.”

-

The drive home is quiet.

Hope is fast asleep in the backseat, little snores and soft breaths escaping her lips. Hayley looks back with a caring and loving gaze. Her daughter truly is an angel, she thinks.

“So then,” he whispers. “This new Klaus, is he up to your standards, as of yet?”

She pauses, catching his eye from the corner of hers. “Maybe,” Hayley remarks. “He certainly became a better driver, over the passed years,” she smiles.

He doesn’t push her any further, he knows he can get more out of her if he did but, this smile of hers was enough for now. He can deal with it - he can deal with her taking her time.

“Well, you’re home now,” he tells her, pulling over by her apartment complex.

She reaches over to shake Hope awake, she refuses though, still deep in slumber. “Looks like it,” Hayley shrugs, pulling away from her daughter. She strangely feels safer now, having the chance to speak more intimately with Klaus. “What do you think new Klaus would do if I tried to ask him to come upstairs?”

He thought that this moment would never come and, that, if it ever did - he would be in disbelief.

But oddly enough, Klaus isn’t in shock at all.

This is expected - he is, after all, charming as hell.

“I think he’d say,” he starts, and right then, he notices little Hope in the rear view mirror, opening one eye to sneak a peek. “You’ve got a restless little girl still listening in on our conversation,” he smirks.

Hayley turns to catch her daughter spying on them and pretending to go back sleep. “Hope,” she scolds. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” she sighs, finally exiting the car and taking her daughter into her arms.

Well, no use acting now, Hope thinks.

“Goodnight, little one,” Klaus tells her, ruffling her hair. “And you too, Hayley,” he lets her know, before he begins to drive off.

She watches him disappear into the night - her heart feels heavy and sinking as she notices how much she longs to see him again.

But, she is a mother first, and as much as the old Hayley would leave all her responsibilities behind and run after that speeding car - she’s not that girl anymore. The new Hayley takes her daughter, and all her old love and passion, and she walks back up to their room.

Of course, right before she enters her home, she notices a carefully placed envelope on her door.

It reads the words - Invitation for Hayley and Hope Marshall.

-

[just2bubbly]

Disclosing a Secret

Masterlist

Summary

"And will they accept me?"

"They should."

"And what if they don't?"

When insecurity makes Cinder question her role in Kai's life, will Kai be able to convince her that she is the one for him, the only one?

Ship: Kaider

Words: 899 words

--

Kai's Perspective

Seeing her like this felt different, she was no longer the scrawny mechanic that Kai had found out hiding under a table. She was a picture of striking and elegance and everything else that Kai would want her to be, need her to be. And this time she was shoulder to shoulder with him. She had been the Queen of Luna. She remains the Queen nonetheless- of people's hearts and most importantly his. And when she stands beside him to face the world which has proved horrible to her kind for time and time again. She does not cower before their gaze- she meets it with the same level of intensity. Like a Queen that she was, as the Empress that she will be.

"Kai, Stop staring !" she gushed.

"You look so gorgeous- my eyes can't leave your sight" he exclaimed, as his eyes twinkled with amusement at the sight of his beloved.

"Well handsome, how about we get done with this and then you could take your time gazing at me?"

"Sounds endurable"

"Good, Now come back to work" she ordered. He groaned but the grin plastered on his face said otherwise.

"Remind me why do we have to do this?" he wailed, his hands itching to tug at his hair. He suppressed the urge recalling the time and hours his stylist had put trying to make his hair look pristine.

"It's necessary-" she said, but thinking better of it concluded, "Torin wants us to."

"Yeah, because that's the right thing to do. An Emperor cannot elope. He and his fiancee should take out time to announce their engagement"- Kai said or rather quoted Torin mockingly.

"I guess it is time to declare it already...I have been staying long enough to raise a few eyebrows," she admitted.

"Not long enough to do something as stupid as the showing of rings!" he muttered.

"Kai, I have been staying at the palace for the last 2 years as a Lunar ambassador- I don't think I can handle Camilla's questioning look every time she sees me beside you in conferences."

He sighed saying, "I don't care about what Camilla or others think as long as you and I know the truth."

"It's about time - besides the media has probably guessed it so far and the masses are awaiting news about a royal marriage from last year," she claimed.

His engagement- their engagement was not supposed to remain confidential for so long truly. They were supposed to announce it within 6 months but things went on happening. Things like an increase in injustice against cyborgs, rumours about questionable intentions of Lunars, strained relations between multiple nations of the EU, Cinder having to overlook the newly formed Lunar government that this announcement kept on being delayed for a very long time, until now.He was a bit worried about people's reaction to him marrying Cinder. She was bright, brilliant, compassionate, selfless, just and had every other quality that a leader has to have. Nevertheless, she was also a Lunar and cyborg, two very sore spots for Earthen masses.

"Are you anxious?" she asked, as her fingers played with the hem of her flowing dress.

"More than ever" he admitted.

"Do you think they would accept me?" she implored, trying to speak aloud about her worry.

"They will- they should" he assured. His slender fingers holding her hand in his.

She looked down at their joined hands and insisted, "And what if they don't?"

Giving a squeeze to her hand, he promised, "Then we will just convince them."

He stared at her as she looked up at him. Meeting her gaze, he smiled reassuringly and she returned his affection with a genuine one. He gazed into her brown eyes that he had come to love so much over the years- they looked like freshly melted chocolate making a deep pool that made Kai want to drown in them with joy. She was disturbed, he could sense that.He wanted to drive her concerns away and convince her that the Commonwealth would accept her. It was the last few minutes of their shared secret which was about to be disclosed to the world, with hopes that it would bring only well wishes and greetings of delight and infinite joy.He pulled her closer against him, to just feel warm with love.

"Kai, you are ruining the dress" she whispered in his ear.

"And since when did you care about creased dresses Cinder?"

"Since Iko started scolding me for nominal things and how I can't keep myself pristine for a single minute."

He chuckled, feeling his worry drain down a bit. Maybe the Commonwealth had grown out of their prejudices. Perhaps they had disposed of the rotten idea of all Lunars and cyborgs being evil or maybe they had not. But that was not going to stop Kai from marrying Cinder- the lady that he has come to love every moment. He was not going to give his Cinder away because some people thought that she was not worthy. Whatever happens tonight, he would marry only Cinder- the person wrapped around his arms who deserved everything that he could give her and everything that he could not. She was meant to be here tonight -by his side and she would continue to live on beside him forever and nobody was going to change it.

__

A/N: I usually don't write from Kai's perspective but this was easy- a moment of privacy before facing the media where Kai reflects on his time with Cinder.

Has anyone read Rule of Wolves or any other grishaverse book? You can DM me to bond over it!

Be sure to vote and comment if you like it.

Taglist: @cinderswrench @gingerale2017 @shellyseashell @linhcinder686 (Tell me if you want to be added/removed!)

[aliveandfullofjoy]

So I was reading about the first Oscars ceremony, and it had a division between Outstanding Picture and Best Unique & Artistic Film, where Unique & Artistic was apparently meant to be an equal to Outstanding Picture but dedicated more for prestige artistic works. The next year, the two categories became one from then on, and Outstanding Picture was the only top prize. (If any of that is wrong, blame wikipedia.)

If the split had remained, and there was a more commercial-y movie top prize and a prestige art top prize, what are some notable movies that suddenly pick up wins?

okay wait........ this is a brilliant question and i am ashamed to say i’ve never really given it much thought until now.

idk if you’ve seen wings and sunrise but they’re both pretty great and they do represent wildly different kinds of filmmaking. while it’s safe to say Wings is the more commercial film, it has great craftsmanship behind it and it very clearly created the template for accessible, capital-i Important, and well-made best picture winners to come. 

and, full transparency, sunrise is one of my, like, top 15 favorite movies, so i’m hella biased, but that movie is a gorgeous and strange and thrilling piece of work. the title “unique and artistic film” is impossibly vague, but watching sunrise makes it very, very clear that it fits that bill for that category. and while we’ll, of course, never know what might have happened if that category had continued, it’s tempting to think that all the winners in unique and artistic film would be of sunrise’s calibre, but knowing the oscars... that’s clearly a fantasy, lol. while sunrise is a wildly inventive and artistic film, it’s important to remember that it was fully on the academy’s radar -- janet gaynor won best actress in part for her performance in the film, and it also won best cinematography. so while it’s tempting to think the academy would always recognize a truly unique and artistic achievement every year, in all likelihood, they probably wouldn’t stray too far from the movies that were already on their radar. 

so for this thought experiment!!

it’s probably safe to assume every best picture winner has to go in one of the two categories. there are only a handful of winners that stick out as maybe missing out on the big win in this new system, but only a handful. 

so uh. this is way more than you asked but i got hooked. here’s what i think might have happened if the two best picture categories had stuck around. as i was working through the years, it became clear to me that, unfortunately, in a lot of years, the unique and artistic film would likely end up going to the more overtly “prestigious” films, such as the song of bernadette or the life of emile zola, while their far better and more commercially viable rivals (casablanca for bernadette, the awful truth for zola) would win outstanding picture. the actual best picture winners have an asterisk next to them. what’s also interesting to consider is the importance of the best director category: most of the time, a split in picture and director will tell you what’s clearly the runner-up. those years, usually, give you a good sense of how the two awards would shake out.

Outstanding Picture / Unique and Artistic Film

1929: The Broadway Melody*; The Divine Lady 

1930: The Big House; All Quiet on the Western Front* 

1931: Cimarron*; Morocco 

1932: Grand Hotel*; Bad Girl

1933: Little Women; Cavalcade*

1934: It Happened One Night*; One Night of Love 

1935: The Informer; A Midsummer Night’s Dream (** this is one of the few years i think the actual BP winner, Mutiny on the Bounty, would miss out; The Informer was clearly the runner-up for BP with wins in director, actor, and screenplay, while Midsummer was seen as THE artistic triumph of the year, and with its historic write-in cinematography win, there was clearly a lot of passion for it)

1936: Mr. Deeds Goes to Town; The Great Ziegfeld*

1937: The Awful Truth; The Life of Emile Zola*

1938: You Can’t Take It With You*; Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs or Grand Illusion (** this one’s tough... Grand Illusion made history as the first non-english movie nominated for BP, and it clearly had a lot of support, but Snow White was such a monumental moment in Hollywood, and the academy clearly acknowledged that with its honorary award)

1939: Gone with the Wind*; The Wizard of Oz (** this is one of the first years with a clear runaway favorite for best picture, which makes guessing the way the other award would go very difficult! i’m leaning towards Oz purely because of its technical achievements, but i’m not confident about that choice at all.)

1940: Rebecca*; The Grapes of Wrath 

1941: How Green Was My Valley*; Citizen Kane

1942: Yankee Doodle Dandy; Mrs. Miniver*

1943: Casablanca*; The Song of Bernadette

1944: Going My Way*; Wilson

1945: The Bells of St. Mary’s; The Lost Weekend*

1946: The Best Years of Our Lives*; Henry V

1947: Gentleman’s Agreement*; A Double Life 

1948: The Treasure of the Sierra Madre; Hamlet*

1949: All the King’s Men*; The Heiress 

1950: All About Eve*; Sunset Boulevard

1951: A Place in the Sun; An American in Paris*

1952: The Greatest Show on Earth*; The Quiet Man 

1953: Roman Holiday; From Here to Eternity*

1954: The Country Girl; On the Waterfront*

1955: Marty*; Picnic

1956: Around the World in 80 Days*; Giant

1957: Peyton Place; The Bridge on the River Kwai

1958: The Defiant Ones; Gigi*

1959: The Diary of Anne Frank; Ben-Hur*

1960: Elmer Gantry; The Apartment*

1961: West Side Story*; Judgment at Nuremberg

1962: To Kill a Mockingbird; Lawrence of Arabia*

1963: Tom Jones*; 8½ 

1964: Mary Poppins; My Fair Lady*

1965: The Sound of Music*; Doctor Zhivago

1966: A Man for All Seasons*; Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

1967: In the Heat of the Night*; The Graduate

1968: Oliver!*; 2001: A Space Odyssey 

1969: Midnight Cowboy; Z 

1970: Airport; Patton*

1971: The French Connection*; The Last Picture Show

1972: The Godfather; Cabaret

1973: The Sting*; The Exorcist

1974: Chinatown; The Godfather, Part II

1975: Jaws; One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest*

1976: Rocky*; Network

1977: Star Wars; Annie Hall*

1978: Coming Home; The Deer Hunter*

1979: Kramer vs. Kramer*; All That Jazz

1980: Ordinary People*; Raging Bull

1981: Chariots of Fire*; Reds

1982: E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial; Gandhi*

1983: Terms of Endearment*; Fanny and Alexander

1984: Amadeus*; The Killing Fields

1985: Out of Africa*; Ran

1986: Platoon*; Blue Velvet

1987: Moonstruck; The Last Emperor*

1988: Rain Man*; Who Framed Roger Rabbit

1989: Driving Miss Daisy*; Born on the Fourth of July

1990: Ghost; Dances with Wolves*

1991: The Silence of the Lambs*; JFK

1992: Unforgiven*; Howards End 

1993: Schindler’s List*; The Piano 

1994: Forrest Gump*; Three Colors: Red 

1995: Braveheart*; Toy Story 

1996: Jerry Maguire; The English Patient*

1997: Titanic*; L.A. Confidential

1998: Shakespeare in Love*; Saving Private Ryan

1999: The Cider House Rules; American Beauty*

2000: Traffic; Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (** this is another year where i think the actual BP winner, Gladiator, might have missed out. it was a tight three-way race going into oscar night, and if there were two BP awards, i think this consensus might have settled, leaving Gladiator to go home with just actor and some tech awards.)

2001: A Beautiful Mind*; Mulholland Drive

2002: Chicago*; The Pianist

2003: Mystic River; The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King*

2004: Million Dollar Baby*; The Aviator

2005: Crash*; Brokeback Mountain

2006: The Departed*; Babel

2007: No Country for Old Men*; The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

2008: The Dark Knight; Slumdog Millionaire*

2009: The Hurt Locker*; Avatar

2010: The King’s Speech*; The Social Network

2011: The Artist*; The Tree of Life

2012: Argo*; Life of Pi

2013: 12 Years a Slave*; Gravity 

2014: Birdman*; Boyhood

2015: Spotlight*; The Revenant

2016: La La Land; Moonlight*

2017: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri; The Shape of Water*

2018: Black Panther; Roma (** again, i think Green Book gets bumped out in this scenario, i think Black Panther is precisely the kind of movie that benefits from an award that’s seemingly more ~populist~ while Roma easily snags the unique & artistic prize)

2019: 1917; Parasite*

2020: The Father; Nomadland*

but of course i have no idea at all, and most of these are just my gut reactions lol. what a fun question!

[shireness-says]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Henry is six the first time he visits the Circus. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

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

A week later, the Circus is gone.

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

———

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

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

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

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

And that’s that.

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t surprise Emma in the least. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods decisively. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

(She is not entirely sure she means it.)

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

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

——— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

Killian - 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Best wishes,

Belle

——— 

In time, the Circus gains followers.

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

And then - there are the Rêveurs.

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

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

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

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

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

———

Killian - 

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

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

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

Yours &c.,

Belle

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

It is not. 

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— 

Killian - 

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

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

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

Yours,

-Belle

———

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

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

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

Make a wish.

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And like that, the magician begins her show.

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

——— 

The Circus returns when Henry is ten.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Then prove it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, you managed that,” she observes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——— 

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

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

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

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

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

Affectionately yours,

Belle

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

One they want her involvement in as well.

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

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

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

——— 

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

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

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

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

(Would he even mind?)

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t felt the desire before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How imminent?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I understand. Thank you.”

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

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

———

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

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

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

Yours &c., 

Belle

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not hers.

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

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

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

[datsquillid]

Wolf walkers: Quick Review

Overall 9/10

The third film in Cartoon Saloon’s Irish mythological trilogy, WolfWalkers delivers a beautifully detailed Celtic adventure reminiscent of many older children’s animated stories.

Story 9/10

Has all the staples of a children’s fantasy adventure, but with an Irish influence that brings a fresh take. Its historical setting makes it all the more interesting and adds a deeper level of very relevant meaning that even adults can dig into. The realism of the villain was also refreshing to see. It’s in a similar avenue as Brave; both have heroines in a similar setting that struggle against the confines of their society and interact with magic. Instead of the mother-daughter arc we have in Brave, here we have a father-daughter and a friend/relationship arc. Even if you don’t want to dig into its potential deeper meanings of accepting differences, living how you want to, and politics, there is still plenty for you to enjoy in the form of childlike whimsy.

Art style 10/10

As with Cartoon Saloon’s other films, WolfWalkers combines simple shape-focused character designs commonly seen in American animation with a high-detail Celtic aesthetic. To put it simply, it looks like a children’s storybook come to life. The colors of the film are gorgeous; you have a nice warm orange and green in the forest that contrasts with the cold blue and gray of the town. Everything, from the backgrounds to the characters themselves, is heavily stylized to look more traditional. The colors that fill in the characters go outside the lines many times, the backgrounds look like paintings, and the textures placed here and there add a whole other level of detail. I especially liked how the town looked from far away- it was set at an odd angle that made it look flat like it would in a picture book. It was very neat to see.

 Animation 10/10

Amazing. Very fluid and interesting. The characters’ lineart is sketchy and so moves a lot as well. There are also underdrawings that often show up in the characters, and it’s really cool to see. The magic animation is super fluid, and at the end there is a sequence where spirit wolves and humans move around each other. In this scene there is so much volume in the characters and it is really amazing to see them move around in a 3D-like way. The animation of the scent trails that the wolves see is really cool and I love the rough texture of it.

 Music 9/10

 The music is nice and whimsical, perfectly matched with the vibe of the movie. The insert song and the song at the end are the most memorable, and they are sung beautifully.

Editing/cinematography 9/10

I especially love the split screens that show multiple things happening at the same time. It makes the movie all the more like a book come to life, and I love seeing techniques like this used in animation.

  Voice acting 9/10

All the voice actors did a great job. Their voices fit their roles well.

[ducktracy]

182. little red walking hood (1937)

release date: november 6th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: elvia allman (little red walking hood, granny), tedd pierce (wolf), mel blanc (elmer)

buckle up! this is a “lengthy prologue” piece!

perhaps one of tex avery’s most formative cartoons in his career. little red walking hood serves as the first fairy tale spoof of his, a genre that would pop up time and time again in his warner bros. cartoons and even over at MGM (perhaps most famously the red hot riding hood series). not only that, but it’s the first cartoon to debut a purely comic villain—villains in previous pictures had comedic touches, of course, but the wolf (voiced by story man tedd pierce, whose vocals are quite underrated—you may recognize him as tom dover from the dover boys at pimento university) is purely made out to be a rather pathetic, unscrupulous adversary from the very beginning.

even more interesting is that the bulk of the cartoon’s backgrounds are done entirely in colored pencils, by avery background artist johnny johnson, who moved with him to MGM when tex left WB in 1941. the handling on the backgrounds are nothing short of stellar! they truly accentuate the “fairy tale” look and feel of the piece.

maybe the most notable, however, is the debut of tex’s third character of 1937: elmer fudd. i covered this in my review of egghead rides again, and you can read more into the differences between egghead (another 1937 avery character) and elmer here, but the bulbous nosed, derby hat donning little man traipsing around with his guitar case is our favorite befuddled hunter. many have labeled this guy as egghead, and understandably so—they’re eerily similar in more ways than one, and “prototype elmer fudd” is much more monotonous than “egghead”, but this is indeed our favorite little hunter! humble beginnings for sure.

the film burlesques the age-old story of little red riding hood, complete with katherine hepburn little red riding hoods, gin guzzling grannies, nonthreatening wolves, fourth wall breaks, and mysterious whistling men.

already, the cartoon marks an intriguing open, with the title card playing into the action itself: the title card serves as the title of a book, opening to divulge the fractured fairy-tale before us. a cliche, sure, and it was one even by 1937, but with tex avery at the helm, audiences can be reassured that it’s all tongue in cheek. “the mean old wolf was lurking in a nearby pool hall” asserts as such.

indeed, the mean old wolf was lurking in a nearby pool hall--or, rather, cheating. he pulls the lever of a pinball machine, lifting up the machine and tilting it so as to guide the ball in the right hole. the animation of the wolf is spaced and timed nicely, with just enough urgency to convey his commitment to cheating. sticking his tongue out in concentration is a nice plus as well. the drawings themselves aren’t the most pleasing, consisting primarily of mathematically proportioned circles and spheres, but such is life. 

close up on the pinball itself circling around the jackpot hole, teetering away to the “OUT” hole at the last second. a minute in, and we already see that this villain is far removed from the mustache twirling, cape-hugging villains that dominated earlier cartoons. instead, we know that this wolf is a loser. carl stalling’s constipated rendition of “old king cole” adds a nice level of sardonic commentary to the wolf’s authority (or lack thereof).

little red riding hood strolling outside the pool hall easily distracts the wolf from his oncoming tantrum. like red hot riding hood 6 years later, the wolf here is instantly charmed, catcalling and preparing to pounce. off-putting as this may seem at first glance, considering little red riding hood is, well, a child, the kicker is that here, she serves as an imitation of katherine hepburn, in both mannerisms and dialect. so, rather than dealing with a naive, innocent girl on her way to grandma’s house, we’ve instead got a hollywood star with her nose in the air, haughtily avoiding the wolf’s advances. (of course, catcalling grown women isn’t any better, but just as a note to dispel any confusion.)

the wolf drives alongside snooty little red in his pompous jaundice-stricken limo, his advances getting nowhere. time to pull out the big guns:

his license plate, reading 0-7734, flips upside down to spell “hello”, with the taillight opening and closing to simulate a wink. clever indeed! it’s some interesting food for thought to imagine how much more exaggerated in speed and tone this gag would have been had this cartoon been made at mgm, though  i suppose red hot riding hood answers that question.

ignored once more, the wolf opts to halt the car and hassle red himself. “hello, pretty girl! going my way, babe?”

irv spence’s animation is the most appealing all throughout the picture, and his scenes of red here are no exception. the underrated elvia allman provides red’s katherine hepburn impression--tex LOVED his hepburn impressions, and they would bubble up in his cartoons time and time again. the gag itself would have been much more riotous 83 years ago than it is now, but even then, the idea of little red riding hood speaking with such a sophisticated and haughty tone is enough to be funny. 

the contrast between the wolf’s sneering vocals and red’s lengthy speech couldn’t be better. red instantly puts the wolf in his place: “rea-lly, in this modern age of flaming youth, the girl has to put up with such embarrassing situations. rea-lly, we do, don’t we, girls? two thirds of you girls out there have gone through just what i’m going through now. you know how it is, don’t you, girls?” amen to that, sister! (bob clampett would play off of this in his swan song, the big snooze, as an elmer fudd in drag asks the girls in the audience how they deal with such harassment.) spence’s animation is visually appealing in design and also just plain funny.

despite red’s blatant dismissal of his advances, the wolf continues to persue her, tipping his hat as he approaches a stoplight. the stoplight opts to give him a good dose of karma as the light turns from green to red, the “STOP” flag popping out and giving the wolf a nice whack in the face.

however, the wolf has more important matters than glaring at a pesky stoplight—offscreen whistling catches his ears.

irv spence animates the stupendous, colossal, magnificent debut of elmer fudd as he struts across the street, blatantly interrupting the flow of the picture. his slow, carefree movements, the wolf’s visual contempt, and the exclusion of background music altogether accentuate elmer’s interruption. purposeful innocuousness and tastefully so!

back to the wolf at the stoplight, the “GO” sign providing one more whack in the face for good measure. wolf speeds off to hassle his victim even more.

as we’ve seen before, the song portion of merrie melodies has largely been dropped around this time, with little blurbs of songs serving as loose substitutes. here, said substitute is “gee, but you’re swell,” sung in a talk-songy drawl by tedd pierce as he relentlessly struggles to charm red. pierce’s vocals are hilarious, especially contrasted with the closeup of red blatantly ignoring his egotistical remarks. she gives him the cold shoulder, icicles logically forming to accentuate the metaphor. a standard gag, but it juxtaposes so well against the wolf’s inane dribble in the background that it’s hard to roll your eyes too strongly at it.

so caught up in inflating his own ego, the wolf fails to notice the approaching mailbox on the sidewalk, which delivers a hearty reality check as he konks his head against it. red urges him to leave her alone, bidding him goodbye with a haughty “scram, romeo, scram!”

our beloved hero, the whistling, intrusive elmer fudd conveniently pops out of the mailbox, toting a sign pointing directly to grandma’s house. the malice from before at fudd’s presence is gone, replaced by gratitude from the wolf. he peels off down the alley, his limo snaking around every curve. both this and the random appearance of elmer are precursors to tex avery staple gags, especially his time at MGM. amazing how formative a single cartoon can be!

at the beginning, i said that “the bulk of” the cartoon’s backgrounds are done in colored pencil. the pan of backgrounds while the wolf is driving to grandma’s house, whizzing past a hitchhiker elmer in the process, are done in paint. the backgrounds are still just as gorgeous! yet the change does serve as a little food for thought.

like always in a tex avery cartoon, his comedic timing is succint: wolf finally pulls up to grandma’s house, elmer nonchalantly chilling on the back tire--despite the wolf’s purposeful disregard for him on the street, making a point to gun the car past him. the matter of factness of the gag is solid. the cartoon’s main priority is breaking the fourth wall rather than telling a story, yet in this case, that’s a good thing. it’s done well and with awareness.

mr. wolf approaches the doorstep of grandma’s abode, knocking on the door many more times than necessary with a hilariously inflated level of sophistication. he breaks his smooth, cool façade to guffaw a radio catchphrase (this time from the al pearce show): “i hope ol’ grandma’s home, i hope, i hope, i hope, i hope, i hope...” this catchphrase would be found in more short than one, bubbling up in a number of bob clampett porky cartoons as well.

an elderly “who’s there?” answers the wolf’s knocks from behind the door. the wolf puts on his best falsetto, cooing “it’s me! little red riding habit!”

we get a glimpse of granny from behind the door, who opens the little door window to see her guest. realizing that she’s met face to face with the wolf, who jabs his mug through the window, granny is quick to slam the door shut, bursting out into an impromptu rendition of “river, stay ‘way from the door” (sung as “wolf, stay ‘way from my door”.) the random song intervention clues us in that granny is in on the fourth wall-breaking as well--the delivery of the gag is quite similar to the mama parrot from i wanna be a sailor bursting into a rendition of “old black joe”.

irv spence takes over as the wolf struggles to pry the door open. suddenly, he freezes in his tracks at the sound of the telltale, offscreen whistling--elmer has arrived. the befuddled stare from the wolf as he watches elmer nonchalantly strut into granny’s house, opening the door without any hint of struggle, is priceless, as is his face-gripping agony. irv spence is tex’s best animator for a reason!

as a last resort, the wolf body slams himself into the door. little red riding hood has now turned into a tale of the three little pigs. he overestimates his own strength, and ends up darting inside, yet he stumbles backwards from the impact and trips backwards throughout the entire layout of the house. the gag is reminiscent of a similar gag from i only have eyes for you, an early 1937 avery entry--another elvia allman voiced elderly woman chases a hapless victim through the house, both of them gliding along a vertical pan set up exactly like this one. this is funny already here, but imagine the speed and lengths this gag would have been inflated to had tex completed this cartoon at MGM! 

granny is on the offense. the wolf barrels through the kitchen, where she’s standing on guard with the kitchen door. she opens the door, allows the wolf to barrel on out, and locks it shut. granny: 1, wolf: 0. 

cue a tired gag that’s been around since the bosko days (and beyond): wolf rams into a tree, shrinking up into his bowler hat. bowler hat runs around aimlessly with big ol’ shoes sticking out until he finally manages to free himself. the animation of the wolf being freed from the bowler hat IS rather nice--the accordion style wrinkles and folds serve as a precursor to some wild animation later on. it reminds me particularly of rod scribner’s animation in bob clampett’s cartoons.  

on the topic of gags old and new, the wolf engages in a gag that would be reused in a number of cartoons, including avery’s thugs with dirty mugs just two years later. the wolf grabs the doorknob, physically pulling it back and letting it shoot up against the door. the window panes thusly light up in a flurry of changing, rapid light squares: four yellow diagonal squares align, and the wolf is granted entrance into the house, triumphant fanfare and all. seems the wolf doesn’t need to cheat to win at pinball (doorknob-ball?) after all! if you look closely, you’ll see that the double exposures still linger as the wolf darts past the door and into the house.

cue the great fight: wolf v. granny. wolf aimlessly chases granny through the kitchen, both of them climbing on the furniture, granny whooping and hollering all the way. the phone rings, delaying their chase--granny hops on the chair to answer the phone, taunting the wolf: “ah-ah,” she chides, displaying her crossed fingers of immunity, “king’s x!” the deliberate time-out and show-stopping is great. this cartoon is filled to the brim with interruptions and halts, yet they don’t at all feel overused or banal. tex was a master of his craft.

granny takes the call while the wolf glowers on impatiently. more fourth-wall breaking as granny begs the audience for forgiveness: “will you people pardon me just a minute? let me see now, one dozen eggs... it’s the grocer, folks...” elvia allman’s vocals are excellent, conveying that comedic awkwardness with a great balance of authenticity and cheekiness. the head tilt indicating the phone as she talks to the audience is another plus.

tedd pierce’s vocals aren’t to be overlooked, either. his “AW, C’MON, GRANDMA!!!” is the perfect topper as granny rambles on the phone. she ends her call by sneering “and a case of gin!” to the grocer before hanging up and telling the audience the chase is back on (”heeeere we go again!”)

granny seeks refuge in the closet, the wolf greeted by elmer again as he opens the door. instead of fighting it, the wolf just heaves a dubious shrug towards the audience. irv spence animation once again--he draws the wolf’s eyes in a comparatively distinct manner. the irises are much smaller than the work of the other animators.

the wolf darts inside the closet, where he finds a conveniently placed nightgown hanging near the door. he looks under the skirt, prompting a disembodied hand to smack him in the face for such uncouth behavior. now confused, the wolf opts to peer into one of the sleeves, where granny’s hand pops out to squeeze and honk his nose daffy duck style.

their game of cat and mouse (or is it wolf and granny?) is interrupted by knocking on the front door, and the telltale, floaty voice of “it is i, red riding hood, grandmother!”

cue panic mode. the wolf hurriedly asks granny to give him “the stuff”, and she offers her bonnet, glasses, and shawl with a sense of camaraderie. this is entirely a performance, not a retelling of a story. these characters are hyper-aware actors who are not what they portray. 

tex’s speed, from the wolf finding granny to her offering her clothes to him diving in granny’s bed, flows incredibly well. everything happens all at once! there’s hardly any time to breathe. the urgency of the situation is very much alive and real, but also playfully so. the whole cartoon feels like a game of hide and seek in a way.

thus, we’re treated to the old routine that everyone knows, with red inquiring about the wolf’s “large optics” and “large schnozzola”. even she understands the overplayed nature of her performance, halting midsentence to quip at the audience “rather childish and a bit silly, don’t you think?” while the scene does drag, it’s purposeful and successful at doing so. there’s a noticeable contrast between the pacing of this scene and the scenes prior.

yet, in no-time, we’re back to the adrenaline rush, with the wolf lunging out of the bed and chasing a shrieking red. tedd pierce’s vocal talents are not to go undermined--he’s genuinely fun to listen to. interestingly, he didn’t write this cartoon--cal howard did. who, i may add, dabbled in a little bit of voice acting himself, voicing gabby goat in get rich quick porky!

irv spence takes over for the remainder of the cartoon, and his animation is gorgeous all the way. the wolf corners red, who swings haymakers at him, stopping only to gloat towards the audience “silly way to make a living, don’t you think?” such a stark contrast at the drop of a hat! predictable, perhaps, but who can be mad at it? this is a very likable cartoon. while all of the warner bros. directors of this period are quite talented, it most certainly belongs under tex avery’s name--think of how different in demeanor and timing this would be as a frank tashlin cartoon (who DID rival tex in terms of speed), a friz freleng cartoon, and a bob clampett cartoon. with tex, it’s in good hands.

the brawl continues, only to be halted by another interruption. no, it’s not because of offscreen whistling! signaling for red to stop, the wolf casts a steely glower at the figure of two silhouettes moving across the screen, sneering snide remarks--late moviegoers who interrupt the flow of the cartoon. provided my memory serves me correctly, this is the first WB cartoon to integrate rotoscoping. it was a technique invented by max flesicher in 1915, where animators would trace over live action footage, frame by frame.

tex would use this countless times, both at WB and MGM. his efforts pay off even now, watching this on a laptop screen, but just IMAGINE the impact this would have in a packed, dark theater, where even the CARTOON CHARACTERS stop to ridicule the audience! imagine just how revolutionary that was the first time this was showed! what an absolute riot! tex was a genius. the characters truly feel alive and with us. this was a very real problem, too, and a timeless one--someone scooching past you in the all too narrow row, bumping your knees, spilling their popcorn on you in the process... the characters on screen connect with the audience, bonding over a universal occurrence. imagine just how much of an uproar this would cause back then in theaters. genius!

after the wolf is done guilt-tripping his latecomers, the fight continues for a few seconds more, halted once again by the fudd himself, strolling across the screen. finally, the wolf reaches his breaking point: “hey BUD! hey, just a minute, bud! now, who the HECK are you, anyway?”

mr. fudd guffaws his first words in a stereotypical dopey drawl: “who, me?” note how his eyes open for a change! he opens his guitar case, where a mallet is carefully stored inside. not a beat is wasted as he knocks the wolf over the head with the mallet, elmer remarking in his hayseed voice “huh huh huh huh, i’m the HERO in this picture!”

iris out...

or so we think.

what a game changing piece of animation. this isn’t the tex avery cartoon to beat all cartoons by any means, but it packs a lot of weight. it’s extremely formative in tex’s career. numerous gags--such as the rotoscoped silhouettes, the stretching limo hugging the curves on the street, the constant wall-breaking and interruptions--and even story structures (think of all of the countless fairy tale parodies that came after this!) would be used not just by tex, but by his friends and colleagues, whether at WB or elsewhere. 

in the grand scheme of things, the plot is barebones. the wolf goes to grandma’s house. the wolf chases little red riding hood. that’s really all it is. yet it’s the details what give it substance, and the purposeful delivery of such. this isn’t a faithful retelling of a beloved story, that’s out the window. these characters are hyper-aware characters essentially massacring an old fairy tale. yet its the conviction of such that makes it so strong. it’s not really a “haha, look, i broke the fourth wall, i’m instantly funny! show’s over” deal--it’s just riding that momentum and expanding the picture on it. “oh, the story keeps getting interrupted. okay. let’s continue to interrupt it and make the characters increasingly aware of such, with the reasons for interruption growing more and more bizarre.”

while this isn’t nearly as bizarre as tex’s later pieces at MGM, it’s a great start. WB wasn’t completely free of its disney influence. pieces like these further remove the disney influence for sure, but 1937 is still very early on. this is such a game-changer in comparison to previous cartoons. 

tex’s dry-spell is over, and cartoons are on the upswing from here. things are going to get real funny and real loony. i definitely urge you to go watch this cartoon--it’s not the most revolutionary piece of animation on the planet, but it’s a wonderfully funny cartoon that still holds up today, and it serves as an interesting comparison point for future cartoons.

you can go watch it on HBO max, or you can check it out right here! enjoy!

[wolveswithoutteeth]

any book recs? ✨

of course! my goodreads has more recommendations and i’ve created shelves for certain themes/time periods/genres but here are some favorites:

fiction:

the secret history by donna tartt

the goldfinch by donna tartt

red, white & royal blue by casey mcquiston

the song of achilles by madeline miller

the hours by michael cunningham

tipping the velvet by sarah waters

deathless by catherynne m valente

the round house by louise erdrich

ghost wall by sarah moss

on earth we’re briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong

if we were villains by m.l. rio

normal people by sally rooney (the tv adaptation is now available on hulu!)

conversations with friends by sally rooney

lie with me by philippe benson

girl with a pearl earring by tracy chevalier

homegoing by yaa gyasi

trumpet by jackie kay

tin man by sarah winman

little fires everywhere by celeste ng

everything i never told you by celeste ng

burial rites by hannah kent  

the remains of the day by kazuo ishiguro

the underground railroad by colson whitehead

americanah by chimamanda ngozi adichie

young adult:

we are okay by nina lacour

everything leads to you by nina lacour

the grisha trilogy by leigh bardugo

six of crows by leigh bardugo 

the winternight trilogy by katherine arden

shatter me series by tahereh mafi 

i’ll give you the sun by jandy nelson

19th and 20th century american lit:

moby dick by herman melville

little women by louisa may alcott

behind a mask (and other stories) by louisa may alcott

cecil dreeme by theodore winthrop

the awakening by kate chopin

the house of mirth by edith wharton

ethan frome and other stories by edith wharton

giovanni’s room by james baldwin

all of toni morrison’s books! (i recommend reading her work in publication order if you can but my favorites are beloved and the song of solomon)

victorian:

the moonstone by wilkie collins

lady audley’s secret by mary elizabeth braddon

jane eyre by charlotte bronte

villette by charlotte bronte

wuthering heights by emily bronte

the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde

middlemarch by george eliot

bleak house by charles dickens

british modernism:

wide sargasso sea by jean rhys

good morning, midnight by jean rhys

voyage in the dark by jean rhys

mrs dalloway by virginia woolf

maurice by e.m. forster

the return of the soldier by rebecca west

collected stories by katherine mansfield

rebecca by daphne du murier

poetry:

devotions by mary oliver

crush by richard siken

war of the foxes by richard siken

collected poems by edna st. vincent millay

collected poems by christina rossetti

selected poems by edith wharton

undercurrent by rita wong

the wild iris by louise gluck

useless magic: lyrics and poetry by florence welch (if you’re a fan of florence + the machine, this hardcover book is beautifully published and includes poems, lyrics, illustrations, photography, etc.)

graphic novels:

all of isabel greenberg’s books!

through the woods by emily carroll (very spooky! and the art is beautiful!)

and the ocean was our sky by patrick ness 

short story collections:

the bloody chamber and other stories by angela carter

how to breathe underwater by julie orringer

by light we knew our names by anne valente

st lucy’s home for girls raised by wolves by karen russell

kissing the witch: old tales in new skins by emma donoghue

interpreter of maladies by jhumpa lahiri

the thing around your neck by chimamanda ngozi adichie

the last animal by abby geni

nonfiction/theory:

upstream: selected essays by mary oliver

into the wild by jon krakauer

hunger by roxane gay

braiding sweetgrass: indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge and the teachings of plants by robin wall kimmerer

playing in the dark: whiteness and the literary imagination by toni morrison

in the wake: on blackness and being by christina sharpe

forms by caroline levine

touching feeling by eve kosofsky sedgwick

TBR books i’m excited to read as soon as this semester is over:

the starless sea by erin morgenstern

frankissstein by jeanette winterson

glass town by isabel greenberg

supper club by lara williams

the night watchman by louise erdrich

writers & lovers by lily king

her body and other parties by carmen maria machado

the library book by susan orlean

my life in middlemarch by rebecca mead

my year of rest and relaxation by ottessa moshfegh

the lonely city by olivia laing

the women’s prize postponed their winner announcement to september so i’ll be reading from the longlist this summer (and some previous winners/longlisters to celebrate the prize’s 25th anniversary this year!) this year’s list is really strong but a few books i’m most excited about:

hamnet by maggie o’farrell

girl, woman, other by bernadine evaristo

a thousand ships by natalie haynes

weather by jenny offill

red at the bone by jacqueline woodson

lastly, support independent book stores (if you can!) i ordered two books last month that i’m excited to read:

crude by olivia laing

a little book on form by robert haas

[queen-of-bright-shiny-things]

"I knew they would kill me when they found out, but…” He struggled for words, releasing a sharp breath. “I think I realized that I would rather die because I betrayed them, than live because I betrayed you."

🐺

In the sequel of the thrilling Lunar Chronicles series, Cinder, the cyborg mechanic is trying to break out of prison and even if she succeeds, she'll be the Eastern Commonwealth's most wanted fugitive.

Halfway across the world with her grandmother missing, Scarlet Benoit meets a street fighter going by the name Wolf who many have information about her grandmother's whereabouts. Scarlet hates having to trust a stranger but is inexplicably drawn to him. As Scarlet and Wolf unravel one mystery they encounter another when they meet Cinder. Now they all must try to stay one step ahead of the cruel Queen Levena of Luna who will hesitate at nothing to make the handsome Emperor Kai her husband and prisoner.

🐺

And dear author has done it again! She's managed to take an age old childhood tale and twist it around to write this magnificent book! I mean our little red didn't know what hit her when she met wolf.

"ʙᴜᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ᴀ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴜɢɪᴛɪᴠᴇ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄɪɴᴅᴇʀ." ᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ. "ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴇ ɪ'ᴍ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ?"

"ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʀᴇ ɢʀᴀᴛᴇꜰᴜʟ," ᴄɪɴᴅᴇʀ ᴍᴜᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ.

Another gorgeous gorgeous read that made me want to squeal! It's only the second book but I'm starting to think this series is just perfect. It has the perfect amount of gushy romance, action, humor, and how can I forget the mind control, and all the other kinds of crazy.

And the characters! So many characters to like. I love Thorne, he's such a sweetheart. Honestly, I can't wait for more of him.

"ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ ᴀꜱ 'ꜱᴛᴏʟᴇɴ'. ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴘʟᴀɴ ᴏɴ ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ."

I had a little bit of a struggle opening my heart to Scarlet but by the end I was totally hooked. I think that's probably because I absolutely love Cinder and wanted more of her. And Wolf, where can I find him? I need one! And all of them together! Their relationship is just amazing. Also I was just so hapoy to have Iko back! She's just too cute!

"ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ... ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱᴏᴍᴇ, ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ." ᴄɪɴᴅᴇʀ ɢʀᴏᴀɴᴇᴅ.

"ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴍʏ ꜰɪɴᴇ ʟᴀᴅʏ, ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ ꜱʜɪᴘ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ꜱᴋɪᴇꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ."

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴅʀɪꜰᴛᴇᴅ ᴜᴘᴡᴀʀᴅ, ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴄɪɴᴅᴇʀ ᴅʀᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴍꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜱɪɢʜ. "ɪᴋᴏ, ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ʙʟᴜꜱʜɪɴɢ?"

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴅʀᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴀɴᴛ. "ɴᴏ," ɪᴋᴏ ꜱᴀɪᴅ. ᴛʜᴇɴ, "ʙᴜᴛ ᴀᴍ ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ? ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ꜱʜɪᴘ?"

"ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛɪᴇꜱᴛ," ꜱᴀɪᴅ ᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ.

I just really really wanted Cinder to comm the world including Levena and be like "hello there aunt". I so badly want to see their reaction! Ah the drama, the absolute best! This is precisely why I would never live past 5 chapters as a main character. Honestly, my klutzy self would never live past the introduction.

I kept putting off reading this as much as possible simply because I didn't want it to end and whenever I picked it up to read a couple of chapters I just flew through the pages. It really is that good! Also was I the only one thinking what the heck happened to Dr Erland? Like he doing good or what?

ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ɴᴏᴅ, ᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ. 'ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀʏ.'

ꜰɪᴠᴇ ꜱᴛᴇᴘꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, ʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴜꜱᴇᴅ, ᴘᴏɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ, ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ. 'ɴᴏ, ɴᴏ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀʏ.'

'ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.'

'ɴᴏ, ɪ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ɪᴛ ɴᴏᴡ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀʏ.'

'ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀᴅᴅʀᴇꜱꜱ?'

'ᴀ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜɪꜱ ꜱʜɪᴘ ɪꜱ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴘꜱʏᴄʜɪᴄ ʙᴏɴᴅ.'

'ɪꜰ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ.'

And can I just say that our beloved Emperor Kai is the perfect Prince Charming. Just like Charming he keeps missing all the hints and is oblivious to everything going on around him. Kai just can't connect the dots just like Charming who completely forgot the face of the girl who caught his eye and who he freaking danced with through the whole evening. But we love them so that's fine!

Scarlet was packed with so many good quotes even though they don't seem thought provoking at first glance but once you read them over it just hits you. Like this one.

"ꜱʜᴇ ʀᴜʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜰᴇᴀʀ, ʏᴇꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴇᴀꜱʏ ᴛᴏ ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʀᴇᴄᴏɢɴɪᴢᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ."

And this.

"ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴡᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴇ ʜᴇʀ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ, ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴡᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜʟʟ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴊᴜᴍᴘɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜꜱɪᴏɴꜱ. ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ ɴᴏᴛɪᴏɴ, ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ."

And this.

"ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴇʀᴄʏ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ."

Also, didn't Wolf just melt your heart? Was I the only one swooning? Perhaps I just have a thing for wolves.

So I just watched the kissing booth 2 and lost in the wild got stuck in my head and I can't help but imagine the rampion crew dancing to it at the end of the series! Weirdly I think it's so fitting!

I was so confused as to what props I could use that would relate to the book and make for a half decent picture. Yes, yes I used vegetables. I mean Scarlet sells vegetables so that totally makes sense! Not like I could find a wolf anywhere! Or a spaceship!

[miss-tricksy]

Roll to Me

A/N: This is for @cleighwrites ThANGSTgiving Writing Challenge. I chose Dean. My lyric was “And I don’t think I have ever seen a soul so in despair”, Del Amitri, Roll to Me. I was totally struggling with recalling this song by name, but if you look it up, you’ll go ‘duh’ too.

A/N 2: This is my first challenge submission EVER. Please be gentle. Would love to know what you think. There is so much awesome writing on tumblr and it’s a little terrifying to try to even dream of comparing this to any of that.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of smut, mutual pining

Summary: Demon Dean reaches out to Reader, Dean tries to comes to terms with his feelings.

Your phone screen lit up, showing a picture from some random day six or seven years before. Gorgeous car, gorgeous backdrop, gorgeous guy. You can’t help the smile in your voice, despite your grogginess, “Hey, Dean.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Is that your sex voice I hear?”

“Uh, that’s my you woke me up because it’s,” you glance at the clock on the beautiful wood-like nightstand your hotel room it outfitted with, “two thirty-seven. Thought old guys like you were in bed before the ten o’clock news.”

You hear Dean’s throaty chuckle. “Not really my style, darling. Been spending some time howling at the moon, so to speak.”

You grab at the low hanging fruit, “You guys hunting weres? Thought I might have saw something like that going down in the U.P.”

More with the growly laughing. “Not exactly. Wanted to see if you want to meet up with me?”

“Just wrapped up a situation with some witches near Little Rock.” You do a quick mental calculation. “I can be at the Bunker by tomorrow night. Tell Sam to wash my sheets with the good fabric softener.”

“Not quite what I had in mind, babe.”

Babe? You couldn’t help but wonder about that particular endearment.

“Oh, o-kay….what did you have in mind, then?”

You checked that the phone hadn’t dropped the call. Several seconds passed by before your heard Dean’s voice again. “You can’t even imagine what I want to do to you, Y/N/N. Been thinking about you for weeks now. Can’t get that silver dress you wore in Vegas out of my head.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek, to be sure you weren’t dreaming. Sam Winchester may have known about the HUGE crush you had on his brother. But the elder of the pair had never once hinted that he reciprocated. Before you could ask about the strange behavior, your phone buzzed. Funny enough Sam’s face flashed across your screen.

“Hey, Dean, Sam’s calling. Aren’t you together?”

“What the….you can ignore that sweetheart. Baby bro probably is just geeking out over some book at the bunker. Loser.”

You were used to Dean giving Sam a hard time in person, but usually he was kind of a fan girl when he talked about Sam.

“Hey, sweetheart, you still there?”

“Uh, ya.” Sam would probably call back. The boys were probably fighting and they just needed to vent.

“Good so, how about you meet me in Joplin tomorrow around lunch. You bring the whiskey, and I’ll bring the condoms.”

If you had been taking a sip of the water on your nightstand, you’d have done a spit take.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t be cheap either. I wiped the floor with a couple guys tonight. I’m flush. I’ll pay you back. See you soon, Y/N.”

The phone flashed ‘Call Ended.’ You found yourself muttering as you got up to search for the phone charger that had come unplugged. Dean might have joked and flirted with you over the years, but there had never been such blatant innuendos made. Maybe he had had a few too many tonight. You debated about calling Sam back but figured it could wait until morning. His call earlier had probably been to warn you that Dean was in a mood. Once you had taken a couple swigs of your leftover iced coffee, probably regrettably, you crawled back in to your lumpy bed, trying to shake off the uneasiness that call had left you with.

            **************** 

The next morning you woke feeling surprisingly well-rested. Talking to Dean always gave you a little extra comfort, though the longer you wallowed in the scratchy sheets, the more you wondered about Dean’s remarks the night before. After packing the rest of your things and grabbing a surprisingly not-terrible muffin and coffee at the motel’s ‘lounge,’ you pointed your Jeep north. You shaved about 20 minutes off your GPS’s arrival time as you neared the Kansas border. You were merging in to traffic headed toward Tulsa before you remembered your conversation with Dean. He said to meet him in Joplin. Weird. Once you were back up to cruising speed and traffic had thinned out, you dialed Sam up, figuring Dean would be a bit hungover from the night before.

“Hey Y/N/N, what took you so long to call me back?” Sam sounded irritated.

“I didn’t know it was urgent. I talked to Dean last night, figured he’d let you know what’s up.”

“You what- when- where are you right now, Y/N?”

“Chill Sam. Use your words.”

“Seriously, for your sake and mine, where are you?”

“I’m on my way to the bunker. Left Little Rock first thing this morning. Why would Dean want me to meet him in Joplin?”

“He’s in Joplin?”

“I guess. What’s going on? You guys are being weird.”

“Listen, I need you to not come to the bunker. And definitely don’t head to Joplin. And don’t answer any more calls form my brother.”

“Sam you’re really freaking me out right now.”

“It’s a long story and I have to move on this info. Did you make any arrangements with him about where you’re meeting?”

“No. Just that I’d be there around lunch time.”

“Good. That’s good. I’m going to e-mail you some instructions. Do exactly as I say, please. Keep me posted if Dean contacts you. There’s a safe house we have in Lawrence. I’ll text you the address and security code. Get there as quick as you can, Y/N. I mean it.”

Sam’s little monologue had you totally freaked out. Something big was happening, and as per usual two of your favorite people seemed to be smack in the middle of it. 

       ***************** 

Walking in to the tiny house in Lawrence felt more than strange. It was in a middle-class neighborhood full of families with kids. You couldn’t help but wonder what the neighbors thought of this place. There was a layer of dust over almost everything, but upon inspection the electricity worked and there was hot water. You carried in your laptop and the lunch you had got at some overpriced drive-thru. You had to admit that the sandwich was good but the coffee was not the best. You settled in to the couch with a movie you had seen a million times before, stretching the car ride out of your muscles. You were just comfortable when Sam’s picture popped up on your phone.

“Hey, Sam, care to fill me in on just what crazy crap you guys are tangled up in right now?”

“No. Not really. Listen, I know you just rolled in to Lawrence but any chance you could make yourself scarce. As in get out of the Midwest for a while?”

“Seriously, Sam,” you started, then heard Dean’s muffled voice growling at Sam to take the cuffs off.

“Wait, is that you brother. Why is he cuffed?”

“Um, it’s like I said, long story,” Sam tried to weasel his way out of an explanation.

“Sam what is going on? I talked to Dean last night. Then you tell me I need to get to Kansas, and now I need to get out of Kansas? I’m getting some seriously mixed signals.”

“I know, Y/N/N. Can you just trust me on this?”

“Sam you’re the closest thing to family I have. I would really like to be in the loop here.”

“Okay, give me three days, then head to the bunker. And bring some holy water just in case.”

“Holy wa-,” the line went dead before you could finish your question.

You trusted the Winchesters with your life so you decided you could stay put for a couple days. You spent the rest of the evening washing sheets and towels and all of your clothes. (Only half-charmed by the fact that there was a washer and dryer and your favorite fabric softener stashed in a small laundry room.)

You spent your second day checking in with contacts and following up on a couple leads you had. Turned out the werewolves you thought might be partying in Michigan were actual wolves that some local had over exaggerated. You passed on wind of a coven near Boston to your friend Katie. Forwarded some reports of what you thought might be actual Selkies in the San Francisco Bay area. Your job was really freaking weird sometimes.

By lunchtime on day three you were pretty much bored out of your skull. Everything you had in your possession was cleaned, polished, sharpened, oiled and any other adjective you could come up with. Seriously, even your boots had gotten a nice rub down with some extra gun oil. You figured you had given your favorite brothers time to sort out the mess they were in, or at least make a good start. You decided to give Dean a call, see if he would be a little more forthcoming with details than his younger counterpart. Three numbers and no answers later, you couldn’t help but be a little irritated.

Sam picked up on the fourth ring. He sounded exhausted. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Don’t what’s up me Samuel Toronto Winchester.”

“Toronto?”

“I can never remember. And don’t distract me. I am about five seconds from hopping on the freeway and busting down the door of your Batcave. What is going on?!”

“Dean died.”

Your knees gave out and you sank against the kitchen counter. “He’s gone……and you didn’t call me?”

“I said he died. I didn’t say he’s dead.”

“It’s a good thing I’ve known you for a damn long time Sam or I would think you’ve lost it. Explain.”

“He died. Became a demon. Knight of Hell actually. I’ve been trying to track him down for a while now.”

“That is…still not enough information. Why do you have me on lockdown in Apple Pie Land?”

“I was just trying to keep you safe Y/N. Dean has been sleeping and slicing his way through the Plains like it’s his job. I didn’t know how he would react if he caught up with you.”

“So now what Sam?”

“I got him back to the Bunker, started him on what we think was a demon cure. He seems to be back to himself, for the most part. I would feel better if you stayed in Lawrence a couple more days.”

“Sam I’m going nuts here. How about I take a couple days and check some drop boxes I’ve got that aren’t too far. Could I head to the bunker say, middle of next week?”

“I think that’s doable. Just know that Dean’s really shaken up by this whole thing. He knows he did a lot of shady stuff while he was dark. I don’t know if he’ll be up to company, but you’re always welcome here, you know that.”

“Okay, well. Let me know if anything changes. I’ll see you in a few days. I’ll bring you a case of that beer you like from Texas.”

“Bye Y/N. Be safe.”

                   ************************ 

You spent the next few days being true to your word. You logged way too many interstate miles. Checked every mailbox you had, even one the Winchesters had given you the key to that was kind of out of your way. For some reason it was stuffed full with some cooking magazine, with Y/N Winchester as the subscription holder. You stopped by a couple surplus stores and loaded up on water and non-perishables. You even got a couple packs of t-shirts and socks for your two favorite fellas. Theirs always seemed to be one step away from growing ‘stuff.’

By Tuesday you had circled back around to Lebanon. You dropped in at a cute little bakery the boys favored. Pie for Dean and a mix of cookies that Sam would pretend weren’t on his diet but wouldn’t last two days. You got a few sandwich rolls and a tub of chicken salad that was made there, too. At least you wouldn’t starve at the ultimate bachelor pad. You figured you ought to let the boys know you were incoming.

“Hello?”

“Hey Sam. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be there soon. Got an empty spot in that awesome garage I can park?”

“Sure thing.” He paused like he was getting ready to tell you your puppy died while you were at summer camp. “Just, don’t be surprised if Dean is a little, weird, I guess. He’s been drinking already today and seems to be a real Debbie Downer pretty much all the time. I don’t know what to do with him. Or for him. Just, I know he wouldn’t want you to get here and think it’s your fault he’s depressed or whatever.”

You couldn’t help smiling a little. “Of course not, Sam. I’ll just have to kick his ass a little. Open the garage door for me, I’ll be there in five.”

                     ****************** 

Sam helped you get your Jeep unpacked and your things settled in to the room you had claimed dibs on. And someone had washed your sheets, it smelled pretty good in your room, actually. Sam almost ran you over as you stepped into the hall to head for the shower. The Men of Letters water pressure was to die for and you were convinced that the water heater was enchanted somehow.

“Sorry, Y/N. Hey, listen,” Sam tucked his hair behind his ear, a move you knew was a nervous tic of his. “Would you feel okay here with Dean by yourself? I haven’t left in days just trying to keep an eye on him. I need some fresh air and I don’t even know. Just a break I guess.”

“What are best friends for Sam. I was going to shower real quick. Any chance you guys have some frozen pizzas stashed in one of those enormous freezers?”

Sam couldn’t seem to stifle a grin at you expense, while he swept you into a big hug. He was your second favorite person to hug in the whole world. “I hope you never change, Y/N/N. Pizza’s on the bottom shelf. Call me if something comes up.” He kissed the side of your head and walked off.

You decided to kill two birds with one stone and throw the pizza in while you showered. You cranked the oven, tossed the pizza in and headed down the hall, fiddling with your phone to set a timer. You shrieked when you hit something solid.

“Hey sweetheart, sorry I scared you.”

You breathed out his name. “Dean, hey. I wondered if you were hiding from me.” You couldn’t help but tug the lapels of the robe you had on self-consciously.

“Why would I hide from you? You’re my best girl. I mean best girl friend.” He hiccupped. “Ha, I mean best friend who is a girl.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if the blush on his cheeks was because of the slip-up or the whiskey you could smell on his breath. “Right. Anyway. I have a pizza in the oven and was heading to shower. And I’m down to like,” you glanced at your phone, “seven minutes. You want to share?” Then your own nerves kicked in. “I meant share the pizza, not the um, the shower thing.”

Dean gave you a look you couldn’t decipher. Almost disappointed. “How about you shower, I’ll set us up pizza and whatever in the Dean cave.”

“The what?”

“The Dean Cave™. Three doors down from your room. You’ll love it.”

           ******************* 

Showered and feeling the most relaxed you’d been since leaving Little Rock, you followed your nose to the Dean Cave. When you stepped through the door you couldn’t help but giggle. “You weren’t kidding, were you? This is…perfect for you, De. You pulled out all the stops, huh.” You could tell he was trying not to be too proud of himself, but the big grin he was wearing gave it away. It was one of your favorite smiles in the whole world. He had plates and glasses on a small table between two enormous recliners. Pizza, beer and the pie you thought you had smuggled in were on a side table. You couldn’t help your own smile, while you fixed a plate and got comfy in a big chair. “Mind if I play some music?”

“As long as it’s not the crap you play in your car.”

“What other music is there?” you joked. You liked a lot of stuff, but the country music you had been bombarded with over the last week was getting old. “I made a cool mix. You’ll know some of these songs, they came out when you were in high school.”

“Oh, jeez, the nineties, really. I thought you had better taste than that.”

“Hey punk, there was some good stuff. I didn’t say you had to dance or anything. Just some background music.”

“Fine. Tell me about what you’ve been up to.”

                     *********************

You spent the next hour regaling Dean with some of the more interesting things you had been up to since your last Bunker visit. “And that is pretty much everything since we worked that weird mummy case in Vegas.” You adjusted your legs and missed Dean tensing up. “So, am I allowed to ask about you? Or are we going to keep ignoring the elephant in the room, De?”

Dean tried to glare at you like he wanted to cut this conversation short. You really were one of his favorite people, and he didn’t want to let you down with tales of Demon Dean. “I’m sure Sam gave you the highlights.” He rubbed his hand across his neck, his version of the Winchester tic. You realized he was refusing to meet your eyes.

“I was just. Checking in with you, I guess. Sam said you’ve been, um. Been drinking. More than usual. And the only reason you’re eating with me is because I asked. You would have liked to tap out already.”

“Y/N I love hanging out with you. It’s just. It sounds stupid, but I guess I’m just trying to find a way to atone for my actions. His actions. I don’t know. I did a lot of stupid, horrible things. Nothing I’m proud of. I practically called you up for a booty call. That probably wouldn’t have ended well for you. Guess I couldn’t keep you off my mind even when I was a demon.”

You watched Dean all through his self-deprecating speech. He looked at the hole in the knee of his jeans the entire time. When he finally did glance up, you couldn’t stop yourself, you mouthed along with the song that had started playing “And I don't think I have ever seen a soul so in despair.” That seemed to break something in him, and you noticed the tears start rolling down his cheeks. You reached out to grab his hand, calluses snagging. “You don’t know the half of it sweetheart.”

You tugged on his hand and he sunk to his knees in front of you. He hugged around your waist and you used the edge of your shirt to wipe up some of his tears. You leaned down, tucking his head under your chin. “Actually, I do know the half of it. And in case you didn’t notice I keep coming back.”

“Well, then I guess the other line in that song is about me too.” You leaned back into your seat, giving him a questioning look. “Wrong guy, wrong situation.”

“Ya, no. You are definitely the right guy,” you glanced away shyly, “for someone.”

You felt Dean’s hands slide down your thighs. “I doubt that, sweetheart.”

You took a deep breath and met his eyes. They were watery and red-rimmed, but always a spectacular jade. “You are the other, other guy De. The songs about having someone you can count on.” It was his turn to look away. You grabbed his chin, spinning his face around. “When the engine’s stalled and it won’t stop raining…you are always my first call. When I get a huge win. Or have to lick my wounds. You’ve got my back.” You hoped the smile you gave him wasn’t giving too much away.

“Y/N, I am no good for someone as great as you. I literally called you two weeks ago, because I was a demon. He wanted to sink his teeth into you. And not the fun way.” Dean wiped his eyes, with the back of his hand. “What would I have done, then?”

“Well, we were gonna have booze and condoms. Think I know what we would have been doing.” You seemed to have the bad habit of putting your foot in your mouth around Dean. You leaned over to kiss the top of Dean’s head, trying to make a hasty escape. “See you in the morning, De.”

               *************** 

Dean spent a couple minutes on the floor trying to make sense of your conversation. He worked at gathering up the mess the two of you had made, realizing you hadn’t touched the pie. He always seemed to get distracted when you were around. As he stashed the last of the trash in the bin, he tripped across something rather dazedly. You had agreed to meet him, well the demon version of him, with the intention of hooking up. Maybe you thought he had just been messing around. Huh.

              *************** 

You were just starting to drift off in the awesome mattress you discovered had been replaced since your last visit, when a timid knock caught your attention. You shifted up in the bed, making sure your lack of pants wasn’t obvious, and called, “Come in.”

Dean’s shadow appeared in your doorway, and you squinted to actually see his features in the dim light.

“You were going to meet me in Joplin. Why didn’t you question it?”

“I figured you needed back up on a case or something.”

“You didn’t question the condoms. Then or tonight. Why?”

You could feel yourself flush at the insinuation. “I just figured you were screwing around. You make jokes with me all the time.”

“Not about having sex with you.”

“Well, I know. But other jokes. Flirty things when we go out to a bar. Or things you find online and send me.”

“But I don’t joke about having sex, not with you.”

You weren’t sure what the big deal was. And Dean’s face was still in shadow. “Sorry, I guess. I shouldn’t have joked about it either, won’t happen again,” you apologized.

While you were talking Dean closed the door behind him, plunging you into all but blackness. The bed dipped near your knees, and you suppressed a squeak of surprise. As your eyes adjusted to the near pitch dark, you could see Dean’s shoulders sagging. “Hey,” you nudged him with your leg, hoping he could see your smile, “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I just thought, you know, we joke and kid around and if I crossed a line, I will definitely try to avoid that kind of joke in the future.”

Dean found your hand that was tucked in to your lap. Leave it to him to have cat-like night vision. “I, uh.” Dean cleared his throat and shifted his weight on the bed, squeezing your hand just a little. “I’m not mad, it’s just.” Another cough, and you thought you heard him mumble ‘get it together, man.’

“De, can I turn the light on. Or you turn the light on. I’m just in a t-shirt here.” The light clicked on and your eyes adjusted as Dean sat back down. You grabbed his hand back, loving that little bit of contact. “It’s just you and me here. What’s got you all tongue-tied?”

Dean took another breath. “Sex with you will never be something I joke about, because I can’t possibly imagine anything more serious in my life. I mean. You are so beautiful. And perfect and just thinking about and knowing it would never happen makes it too hard to joke about.”

You were sure he got that out in one exhale. Your buzz from earlier seemed to wear off quite quickly. You made sure Dean was looking you in the eye when you replied, “It would never be a joke to me. It would be, what’s the word?” You hoped Dean was reading your expression loud and clear. “Kind of a dream come true.”

Dean continued to stare at you, like he couldn’t believe his ears. “I….What?”

“I said that would be a dream come true for me. Why do you think I keep coming back around, De? It’s not for the beautiful balcony view. Or the great eats. It’s because it’s where you are.” You tugged on the hand you were still holding bringing Dean’s mouth within inches of your own. “Kiss me, please, tell me I didn’t read this wrong.”

Dean leaned in and between wet presses of his beautiful mouth gasped “Read it….totally….right….I’m an idiot….god you’re gorgeous….taste so good….”

[illlogicals]

☆ﾟ*・ﾟWOAH is that PHOENIX LINK ? i’ve heard they’re a WITCH ( WHITE ) originally from MAINE. they came here because SHE WANTED TO UNDERSTAND HER MAGIC BETTER and they’ve been here for 3 years. as a 23 / 23 year-old, i’m sure they’re skilled. someone told me they’re STUBBORN & FICKLE  but i think they’re AFFECTIONATE & LIVELY. i can’t help but think of  FADING STAINS ON OLD BOOKS, CURLS OF GRAY STEAM FROM A TEACUP ON A RAINY DAY, and DANCING BAREFOOT IN THE WOODS, when i look at them.

more trash penned by vic

➝  meet phoenix link. who I named after a harry potter book that was sitting in front of me while I was applying, but let's ignore that and focus on what really matters!!

➝ phoenix 'nix' link was born into the lives of two celestial beings who weren’t exactly planning on having a booming blooming baby. in fact, nix is fairly certain she was a complete accident... but a very happy one because in nix's mind everything happens for a reason. even the parts of this crazy life she doesn't understand. she's a huge believer in the 'big plan' of life. whatever that actually means. 

➝ she was the outcome of a cambion mixing all up over a nephilim. who nix will say loved each other, thank you very much! she's super sensitive about them and absolutely hates when she tells people about them. they give her the look. nix hates that. 

➝ the reality? her parents really didn't care much for each other. they didn't plan to have nix and they certainly weren't expecting her to come out as quirky white witch who likes to eat avocado toast and drink those expensive frozen lattes at crafty cafes while reading up on making comfort charms for her bffs. which her dad, the nephilim in her life, obviously appreciates. "she could be out hexing people." he'd say, following an eye-roll from her mother. a cambion. 

➝  nix's mom is a bit ... estranged. when nix got older, around her tenth birthday, her mom left on a so-called trip for business in the bahamas and then was gone somewhere in the islands over a course of seven years. when she returned, she barely recognized her daughter standing tall and bright next to her father. she began noticing nix had starting dabbling in magic and disappointingly noted that it was the use of white magic instead of dark. useless magic that she couldn't harness for her own bidding. it caused her to tell nix, “no point in staying around if you can't be of use.” and now cue mommy issues.

➝ this didn't really settle well with nix. she understands that people say things they don't mean and nix essentially blamed it on the fact that she really just didn't understand her mom. or demons in general. so it worked best to explain things by blaming herself and constantly telling her father that her mom’s going to come back once this all blows over. just picture nix going ‘she’s my mom. she has too.’ 

➝ a day would go by, then a week. then a month, then a year. her father never spoke about it again with her and slowly nix began to stop telling people her mom was overseas for work. then stopped telling people about her mom all together since she heard through the grapevine that other people were suspecting that she didn’t even had a mom at all and that her stories were just for attention.

➝ she does keep a locket with a picture of her mom tho. it’s hidden somewhere in her sock drawer in her dorm  so she can look at it from time to time. the whole going to school thing was an idea gifted from her father. he explained that nix needed to get out more and meet people more like her. which nix agreed since maybe she’ll find someone with parents similar to her and see if they experience a lost of a parent just like she had.   

but other than THAT. nix here is pretty cool. I’m not really looking for anything specific at the moment for any of my characters. I kinda just toss them to the wolves and then start snowballing ideas from there.  also there really really needs to be more gifs of fivel. she’s gorgeous so what the actual firetruck rpc???

[mycatshuman]

Castle of Devils

Chapter 2

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety

Warnings: mentions of blood? I don't think there is any others? Let me know if I missed any.

Word count: 1,868

Thank you so so much to the amazing @civilsounds17 for helping me and reading through this for me! 💚💚💚 also thank you so very much to @wxlcomxtothxjunglx for helping me with the title.

More Chapters

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Roman awoke the next morning to find a tray sitting outside his door with a note. He frowned slightly before glancing around. He wasn't sure how long the food had been out there, he hoped it was still warm. Grabbing the tray, he brought the tray inside and closed the door behind him. Taking a moment to debate where he wanted to eat, he decided to sit his breakfast on the desk beside the window so he could sit and look out at the view.

He shoved the velvet red curtains aside dramatically (as he did everything) and sat down, opening the window, he let out a surprised breath at the view. It was, it the simplest of terms, enchanting. The sun shone down on the land, it's beams hitting the multicolored leaves adorning the trees below. The reds, yellows, and oranges swirled through the air as they fell from the dying branches. The twinkling of the cool water in the river below as it ran over small pebbles and rocks was picturesque, and Roman could have sworn he could hear the trickling of the crystal liquid as it flowed. He let out a small shiver as the crisp fall breeze blew through the air, bringing with it, the smell of apples and pumpkins. The whole scene was like something out of a fairytale.

Roman felt a small, content smile make its way to his face before he turned to his food. He delicately picked up the small note bearing his name with intricate, crimson script. Bringing the note close to himself and opening it, he felt his breath hitch in his throat as the faint scent of...something, trailed along with it. Roman felt his head grow slightly dizzy. The smell was intoxicating. It was the smell of crisp autumn leaves, the smell of pumpkin spices, clover, nutmeg, and cinnamon. The smell of ancient tomes and a slight smell of thrill seeking danger. Roman recognized the scent as it all swirled around him in one unique smell that he distinctly remembered from last night. Virgil.

Roman felt his cheeks warm. He hasn't even been here one night and he was already finding himself falling for someone. And it was his host! At that. Roman shook his head to clear his head of thoughts of pale skin and stormy eyes. He quickly read through the note his host left him.

Dear Mr. Prinz,

I trust you had a pleasant sleep? Please enjoy this meal I have prepared for you when you wake. I shall be quite busy today and I hope that you can get yourself settled into your new home for the next month. If you finish that, please enjoy my library. It has a vast collection of novels and I can only hope you will find something that intrigues you. I shall come find you somewhere around five and then we can start my studies. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.

Yours truly, Virgil Stoker

P.s. the Wifi password is alucard500

Roman chuckled breathlessly before setting the paper down and starting on his food. As he ate, he looked out over the forest surrounding the castle. His thoughts wandered from the serene view to the people in the gas station. Why were they so scared of this place? Sure it looked scary on the outside, at night with wolves howling, but in the day, it was like something out of a fairytale.

Roman frowned. What could they possibly be scared of? It couldn't have been the castle's owner. Virgil was too kind and polite, albeit a little weird, but that couldn't be cause enough for them to call him a devil. And it wasn't like there was anyone else who lived here who could have caused the reputation of devils. Could it possibly be the castle? Maybe something in its past. Could it be haunted? Are there ghost and literal devils and demons here? Could it be a previous owner? The land?

Roman was beginning to drive himself mad as he went over countless possibilities in his head. Maybe I could ask Virgil? He thought as he finished his breakfast. Yes. Surely Virgil would know how the rumors came about. Roman stood up from his spot on the window sill and began to unpack his things and put them away. He was extremely happy to find his closet was much bigger than his one at home. After he was done, he opened the door to his joined bathroom and took a nice soothing bath in the clawfoot tub.

As he soaked in the warm water with the soothing smell of candles swimming through the air and the instrumental tracks to every Disney song playing from his phone, he thought, Why would anyone want to leave? Roman's green eyes flew open as he hit Eureka. Maybe Virgil wants to leave because they whisper such nasty rumors about him! It wasn't much, but it at least gave some light? On the subject. It still didn't give him an answer as to why such wicked rumors were spread in the first place. Although, it could possibly be due to a lifestyle of Virgil's or part of his personality.

Roman let out a sigh and sank into the tub as he closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles. It wasn't really something he should concern himself with. After all, it wasn't like it involved him. For all he knew, it could just be a family feud that doesn't involve games and television. Roman pushed all thoughts from his mind and focused on the music spilling through the air, creating a calming atmosphere as Roman prepared for this evenings lesson with his host.

----

Roman found himself sitting at his desk, a few minutes before five, writing about his stay so far when a feather like knock sounded at his door. Roman startled slightly and turned his head to the door. “Mr. Prinz? If you're ready we can start the lesson now.” Roman glanced down at his attire, he was wearing a pair of black dress slacks and a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons were undone. Is this professional enough?!?! “Mr. Prinz? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm coming!” Roman called out as he frantically glanced around the room, forgetting his dilemma of a few seconds ago as he tried to make sure his room was at least presentable. Roman moved quickly to the door and fixed his hair before opening the door. “Good evening Mr. Stoker.”

Virgil quickly took Roman in, suppressing the irregular jump of his heart in his chest. The reaction totally wasn't due to how handsome Roman looked. Not at all. “Please, call me Virgil,” he replied before stepping away from the door and sweeping his arm to the side. “Shall we?”

Roman swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded and left his room, closing the door behind him and looked expectantly at the other. A ghost of a smile spread across Virgil's smooth pale face before he lead the way through the hall to the study where they would be completing the lessons.

Roman took the time to study his host's face as they traveled through the dimly lit halls of the castle, the flickering light of the candles (not sure why the castle had candles what with all the technology this age provided but Roman appreciated the aesthetic) casting shadows across the darkly dressed man's face. What had Virgil so busy today? Roman had to admit, it was a little strange that he had only ever seen his host in the shadowy hours of the dark. Then again, Roman hadn't even been here for two days. He could just be paranoid. Although, he wouldn't lie and say the words of the cashier weren't still ringing in his head, putting him on edge.

Roman continued to glance at Virgil as they walked through the halls. On one of these small stalker moments, Roman caught a glimpse of Virgil's eyes. They shone slightly in the light, the grey orbs flashing with mystery. And, oh, how Roman loved mystery. They stopped outside of closed door, which must have been the study, and Roman watched as the other twisted the silver handle and pushed the door open. Virgil stepped through the threshold and Roman followed, finally tearing his eyes away from the other man and getting a look at his surroundings. There was a wide window overlooking the back of the castle grounds where a sprawling garden of flowers and trees of all sorts stood. It was beautiful.

Roman tore his attention away from the view outside and took in the view on the inside. It was gorgeous. Rich mahogany bookshelves stood along the wall to the right, the spines thick with words. To the left, a magnificent woven tapestry hung against the wall, it's thread woven picture depicting a scene of the ocean, her waves reflecting the full moon as it floated above her vast waters. The stars accompanying the moon in the sky of the artwork seemed to almost twinkle in silent knowledge of complex detail. In the middle of all of this, a table stood out amongst the other elements of the room.

The table was a deep brown, its chairs of the same shade. It was round with the base carved into the shape of a great tree trunk, it's thick branches holding up the surface on which one would place their books. Although, Roman would wonder how anyone could possibly place anything atop its surface was when it's face was decorated with such delicate, intricate detail. Roses and thorns carved themselves into the table, their stems connecting all of them all over the wooden surface. It was magical.

Virgil noticed his awe. “You like it?” He asked as Roman ran a tan hand over the dark wood with a feather light touch. He nodded.

“Yeah, this is-” he swallowed. “This is truly magnificent. Such gorgeous craftsmanship. It's like something out of a fairytale,” Roman breathed out, his voice soft with appreciation. “Wherever did you get it?”

A smile tugged at Virgil's lips as he watched Roman. He shifted slightly before mumbling. “I-I made it.”

Roman stopped running his fingertips over the carvings and turned to look at the other, surprise evident on his chiseled features. “You-you made this?” He asked, his voice soft. Virgil nodded and scratched at his cuticles. Roman glanced at the table beneath his fingers and felt a warm feeling blossom in his chest. He turned back to Virgil. “Virgil… this is magnificent. Truly. You have a gift.”

A faint blush colored Virgil's cheeks as the blood warmed his face. Roman watched as the other stared at him with what could only be an expression of pleasant surprise and felt his blood rush to face as it turned a slightly darker shade of blush. After a few moments of uncomfortable warmth and silence, Virgil cleared his throat. “Um, shall we get started?” He asked.

Roman stayed silent for a few moments as he waited for his cheeks to cool, then he nodded. “Yes. Let's begin.”

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