#erin has maybe 4 moods
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~ book recommendations ~
tagged by @lavampira! thank you <3 i'll tag... @faerune, @elvves, + @ravensgard i have multiple answers to these questions, of course, but i'm gonna try to stick to my more recent reads.
1. the last book you read:
Embrace Your Weird by Felicia Day. I was expecting more inspiration rather than confidence-building, but it was still fun (even if Day is extremely millennial-humor).
2. a book you recommend:
My latest 5-star read, Die a Little by Megan Abbott. It was just so perfect. If you follow me on Goodreads and read my review you know.
3. a book you couldn’t put down:
Pompeii by Robert Harris. It was actually for class but it was just so well-written and exciting (duh, it's about a volcano exploding).
4. a book you’ve read twice (or more):
I actually don't often reread... I've only ever reread The Hobbit, A Game of Thrones (because I was continuing the series), and Island of the Blue Dolphins (fave as a kid).
5. a book on your TBR:
I have 575 books on my TBR so I randomized my Goodreads shelf. The first one that came up was The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath.
6. a book you’ve put down:
Most recently: Dear Sylvia, Love Jane by Erin Hall. It was a mess despite the good premise.
7. a book on your wishlist:
I mean, every single book on my TBR is on my wishlist. I don't usually buy books either so 🤔 Here's another random from my TBR: Queens of the Age of Chivalry by Alison Weir.
8. a favorite book from childhood:
Besides what I mentioned above, The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett.
9. a book you would give to a friend:
Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie. I think it has a broad appeal and I loved it (I love her in general).
10. a book of poetry or lyrics you own:
Cowboy Poetry: A Gathering. Haven't read it yet!
11. a nonfiction book you own:
A is for Arsenic: The Poisons of Agatha Christie by Kathryn Harkup. Also have yet to read, but probably soon.
12. what you are currently reading:
Three books! Life in a Medieval City by the Gies, The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon, and A Storm of Swords by George RR Martin.
13. what you are planning on reading next:
Honestly idk! I don't usually plan on what to read next because the reading mood I'm in changes a lot. Maybe a 1930s mystery, maybe a middle ages history, maybe a short fantasy story. We'll see.
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QUEER ROMANCE TO SPICE UP YOUR VALENTINE’S | RECOMMENDATIONS
In the mood to spend your Valentine’s curled up with a good romance book? Here are some recommendations with non-binary, asexual and sapphic leads.
1. Love & Other Disasters by Anita Kelly | 2022 | 368 p. | f/nb | 🌶️🌶️
The first openly nonbinary contestant on America’s favorite cooking show falls for their clumsy competitor in this delicious romantic comedy debut “that is both fantastically fun and crack your heart wide open vulnerable. (Rosie Danan, Storygraph)
Starting off with one of my favourite romance reads of last year, Love & Other Disasters is a delicious romance in multiple ways. It focuses on the main characters’ struggles and dreams, and you’re bound to be rooting for them the entire way. The f/nb romance is both heartwarming and sexy, and with its competitive setting, it surely is impossible to put down!
2. The Romantic Agenda by Claire Kann | 2022 | 336 p. | ace f/m | 🌶️
Thirty, flirty, and asexual Joy is secretly in love with her best friend Malcolm, but she’s never been brave enough to say so. When he unexpectedly announces that he’s met the love of his life—and no, it’s not Joy—she’s heartbroken. Malcolm invites her on a weekend getaway, and Joy decides it’s her last chance to show him exactly what he’s overlooking. But maybe Joy is the one missing something…or someone…and his name is Fox. (Storygraph)
My second favourite romance of last year won’t reel you in with spicy scenes, but does a rather incredible job portraying intimacy between two gorgeous love interests. Asexual representation is still lacking in romance novels but Claire Kann proves that there absolutely should be more of. The fake dating trope used is the cherry on top for this wonderful romance that I won’t stop recommending. Perfect summery read to start counting down to warmer days. (Full review can be found here.)
3. Mistakes Were Made by Meryl Wilsner | 2022 | 404 p. | f/f | 🌶️🌶️🌶️
A sharp and sexy rom-com about a college senior who accidentally hooks up with her best friend’s mom. What should have been a one-time fling quickly proves impossible to ignore, and soon Cassie and Erin are sneaking around. Worst of all, they start to realize they have something real. But is being honest about the love between them worth the cost? (Storygraph)
Mistakes Were Made is the total package if you want it all this Valentine’s: amazing humor, exciting romance, and an abundance of steamy scenes. Probably the most binge-worthy book on this list, I highly doubt you would need anything more to fall in love. Despite the slightly scandalous romance, the conflict never takes away from the enjoyment. For any MILF lover: this book is made for you!
4. For Her Consideration by Amy Spalding | 2023 | 320 p. | f/f | 🌶️
When an aspiring L.A. scriptwriter falls head-over-heels for a bossy and beautiful movie star after a devastating break-up, the two take a risk on love and cast themselves as the leading ladies of their own star-struck romance in this sweet and spirited love story from critically-acclaimed writer Amy Spalding in her adult debut. (Netgalley, Storygraph)
If you’d prefer to buy yourself a new book instead of reading something, then this is for you! Releasing 21 February, For Her Consideration is a relatable and swoonworthy sapphic romance fully coated in Hollywood dreams and sapphic film culture. It has great plus-size representation and fun side characters, making the book really awesome, both with and without the romance. (Full review can be found here.)
5. Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree | 2022 | 318 p. | f/f
Worn out after decades of packing steel and raising hell, Viv the orc barbarian cashes out of the warrior’s life with one final score. A forgotten legend, a fabled artifact, and an unreasonable amount of hope lead her to the streets of Thune, where she plans to open the first coffee shop the city has ever seen. A hot cup of fantasy slice-of-life with a dollop of romantic froth. (Storygraph)
Last but not least, the perfect cosy recommendation for anyone who loves a cute romance without it being the entire genre. The sapphic romance in this is very slow burn and while they’re slowly falling in love, you’re bound to fall head over heels with the book in its entirety. Nothing better than a book that feels like a hot cup of coffee to cuddle up in bed with.
#book#books#book recommendations#bookblr#romance#romance recommendations#book rec#book recs#sapphic romance#nb romance#lesbian romance#ace romance#sapphic#non-binary#nonbinary#lesbian#wlw#asexual#asexuality#ace#love & other disasters#anita kelly#the romantic agenda#claire kann#mistakes were made#meryl wilsner#for her consideration#amy spalding#new releases#legends & lattes
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Sky Twizzlers - Chapter 15b
*Warning Adult Content*
Why Am I Here? - Part 4 - Aaron
The moment Erin entered the bathroom, he noticed my red eyes and pulled me into a hug. I refused to cry loudly in front of him, not that I had been sobbing before but I let out a few silent tears. He pulled us both to the ground with me in between his legs, my back to his chest. I was instantly reminded of the way I used to be comforted as a child.
‘Of course, Erin would remember. Mom did this for him, too.’
The thought of that made my chest tighten.
"Talk to me," Erin said firmly.
"Evander almost kissed me," I blurted out.
"Okay and that made you bolt?" he asked.
"Yes... no... I don't really know," I stumbled over my words.
I recounted what happened on the balcony the best I could and he listened carefully. I left out what important conversation I wanted to talk about with my mates because I felt like they deserved to know about it first. I could lie to Erin once and then pull him aside to explain it but I didn't want to lie to my mates any more.
‘You're doing that now whether you acknowledge it or not.’
"Okay... So why did you run, Aaron?" Erin asked me.
I couldn't look at him, so I focused on our hands. My clammy hands were clasped together and his covered both of mine. Even if it felt comforting, I couldn't help but think about how warm and comfortable Aubrey and Evander were. I'd always thought that there were only two people in this entire world who could make me feel safe in their arms but now that number has become four.
‘Well, three.’
"I panicked," I admitted.
"My stomach twisted in knots and I panicked. I didn't know what to do. And when I got here I fought off a panic attack. It scared me."
"The kiss?"
My breath hitched. Could I tell him this? Would he think I was weird? Who was I kidding, I was weird. Who panicked over kissing their mate? And Evander even initiated the damn kiss. The one person in this relationship who wasn't compelled by a fated mate bond. How ridiculous.
"Yes," I whispered. "I was afraid of the kiss."
Erin went silent. I feared his reaction. Would he yell at me? Tell me to man up? To get over it?
‘You're a whiny little brat. You will never be the man our pack needs as a Beta. I would've been better off having a daughter over a filthy...’
No. I squeezed my eyes shut to try and block out that voice. I hated that voice. Erin must've sensed my shift in mood because he squeezed my hands gently before lifting his hands off mine to hug me closer to his body.
"Stop. I know what you're thinking about. That old bastard doesn't control you. His words mean nothing," he said firmly.
"Goddess, you know me so well it freaks me out sometimes," I said bitterly.
"Two decades of friendship does that, Aaron," he stated matter-of-factly.
"Ugh. Don't talk like that. You make us sound old."
Erin laughed loudly.
"I'm serious, though. Please, ignore that voice in your head and just talk to me. I would never say anything to hurt you the way he did."
I hummed, thinking about the decision I was about to make. I'd already decided to wait to tell my mates about my powers first but what about... that? Then again, who better to tell than Erin? He could help me when I needed it. I wasn't ready to admit to my mates what I was but maybe... maybe I could start with myself and Erin.
‘You haven't even said the word aloud, idiot.’
"I..." my voice caught in my throat as my anxiety went up.
"Deep breaths. If it's too much to tell me then don't," Erin said.
"I was afraid of the kiss because..."
"Because?"
"Um, you see... I'm..."
Damn it. I grit my teeth together, trying to mentally beat myself up. Why couldn't I get the words out? Just speak. Speak, you fucking...
"I'm asexual."
The words popped out before I even realized what was happening but once they were out, I felt like I was about to be crushed under the weight of the silence from Erin.
"I'm asexual," I repeated slowly, trying to force myself through the silence.
"I was afraid of the kiss because I was afraid of what could happen next. I'm... disgusted by sex. I know, it's really weird or whatever. I just can't... I can't think about my mates wanting something like that from me if I will never feel... that way."
Erin was still silent. My stomach dropped as I slowly turned around in his arms.
"Erin?" I asked hesitantly.
His face was full of sadness. What was that look supposed to even mean?
"Hey, man, if you pity me, don't. I don't need..."
"I'm not pitying you," Erin said, his face suddenly much harder.
"I'm angry at myself for not noticing sooner. And after all those jokes I've made. Goddess, I'm sorry, Aaron. I should've known."
His words made me pause.
"You don't think I'm weird?"
Erin raised an eyebrow.
"You are weird but not because of your sexuality. What's weird is that you think you're weird for being asexual. Why would you think that?"
"Because I'm not normal?" I prompted.
He gave me a blank stare, so I continued.
"Everyone else likes sex and has sexual attraction. Everyone else is normal. I'm not. I feel like I'm an alien sometimes. Like I'm missing a part of me that makes me human."
"Aaron, you're not human," he argued.
"You're more than that, literally. And just because you don't experience the same thing others do, doesn't make you less normal or whatever. It makes you different, sure but not abnormal."
We both went silent again. I was suddenly a lot... happier. A weight had been lifted off my chest. He wasn't mad or rude or disrespectful. Not that I thought Erin of all people would be that way but you can't get rid of that irrational fear sometimes. It takes over; it's taken me over.
"I'm so glad I told you," I breathed out in relief.
"Well, I'm glad you told me, too. Now, when are you going to tell your mates?"
"I don't know," I admitted with a frown.
"I'm worried about what they will think. Will they be hurt? I'm supposed to be their mate. I'm supposed to want to kiss them and... other stuff."
Erin laughed lightly.
"It'll be fine. They're your mates for a reason. Why would the Moon Goddess pair you up with people that would hate your sexuality?"
"The Moon Goddess is a bitch and you know that," I said seriously, to which he laughed again.
I don't get why he was laughing. She was a bitch. The amount of shit she put Erin through makes me want to reach into the celestial heavens and smack her repeatedly.
"Okay, are you done moping now? You let it all out? We need to go soon. I came here to invite you guys to breakfast, not look at your ugly crying face," he teased.
"Shut up," I grumbled, turning around to punch him in the chest.
"Thank you, Erin. This... really helped."
"What are friends for? And now, you'll have me around to help you out. Just make sure you tell them someday soon. They deserve to know."
"I know."
We both got up from the floor and left the bathroom. Evander and Aubrey looked at us with curious eyes but I looked anywhere but their faces.
"Alright, I'll be downstairs waiting for you guys. Hurry up. After breakfast, we're going to discuss what to do next."
"Oh, that reminds me," I said.
"I'll explain at breakfast don't worry. But, I have a plan I think we should follow."
Erin nodded his head and left with a final wave, leaving my mates and me in silence. Okay, time to apologize.
"I'm sorry, guys. I'm sorry that I didn't talk, Evander and I'm sorry I was so rude, Aubrey," I said, still avoiding looking at them.
Aubrey jumped up and ran over to hug me. I was shocked by the sudden embrace but I accepted it anyway. I held him close to my chest and breathed in his wonderful scent when I felt another pair of arms come up from behind me. Evander pulled me into his chest and I breathed a sigh of relief. They weren't mad.
"It's alright, Aaron. Please, don't beat yourself up about it," Evander said.
"Yeah, you were upset. We're just glad you're okay now," Aubrey added, his face buried in my neck.
"Thank you," I whispered, unable to say anything.
Goddess. The day just started and I'm already exhausted. We haven't even begun our mission yet and I'm already ready to call it quits for the day. But, before that...
"I have to talk to you guys about something."
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is this a...a Reading Triage??
Since I’m in a chatty mood, and also have spontaneously started reading again (amazing how well a 5.5-day break from work will start you right up), and expect to be off work for the full last week of the month as well, I’ve decided to get Ambitious and finally do one of these again!
I think I might actually stick to a plan of almost ten whole books in the next 30 days, on top of the one I read today, because I am -- get this -- wildly excited about a ton of upcoming reads again. I know, I can’t believe it either. I love this feeling. BEGONE, TWO-STARS. Maybe even begone 3 stars...
1. Summer of Sloane - Erin Schneider: I am actually about 1/3rd done with this one, but I set it aside a few days ago to finish reading at the beach, since it was perfect for that and the weather wasn’t being very beach-day-like, and now I can’t figure out where I put it. But hopefully I rectify that soon?
[edit: ✅ done! quite good, 3.5 stars but probably rounding up on goodreads]
2. Smothered - Autumn Chiklis: a spontaneous grab off my TBR, I am now about 1/4 of the way through this one and having a blast. One of the few genuinely light & funny books I’ve picked up this year.
[edit: ✅ all smiles here]
3. Falling Out of Time - Margaret Peterson Haddix: I made a post about it and now it is FINALLY at the library and waiting for me on the hold shelf.
[edit: ✅ glad I read it]
4. Girls of July - Alex Flinn: I have been meaning to read this for the last 3 summers but I finally own it AND know where it is. This is the summer I make it happen! Almost definitely!! Four girls sharing a cabin for a month in the Adironacks, vaguely giving me Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants vibes? Yes.
[edit: if I don’t read this one, please know that it’s because “where it is” is an open grocery bag that hasn’t been touched for a year and has a spiderweb stretched across it that needs vacuuming before I can touch it, and I keep forgetting or only remembering before 9 AM or after 11PM]
5. Something Wilder - Christina Lauren: I’ve never read one of their books (except the YA novel that is a very different style and tone), but this one has me all kinds of excited. Second chance romance? Fake guided treasure hunts, but secretly maybe real treasure too? Danger?? I wanted to read it last year but the request list was REAL so I was waiting for the fervor to die down, and now it has. Mostly. I should have a copy by the 20th, at least.
[edit: ✅ fun, perfect for summer, great introduction to their adult work]
6. Something Wild & Wonderful - Anita Kelly: I wasn’t really looking for a m/m romance at the moment, and I will definitely be bracing myself to skip some scenes, but a novel about hiking the PCT just feels like a summer necessity.
[edit: ✅ exactly what I wanted]
7. Peacock Summer - Hannah Richell: a dual-timelines novel about a mansion and Family Secrets. It’s been on my TBR since it was released but it wasn’t at local libraries -- and then I found a copy at a garage sale last month! So, hyped.
8. Famous For a Living - Melissa Ferguson:
I splurged on Once Upon a Book Club for the first time, and it arrived yesterday and I am positively SQUEALING with excitement. Actually planning to bump this up to my next read as soon as I finish the books I’m in the middle of. Or maybe after the Haddix book.
[edit: ✅ done! worth my purchase but also definitely should have been saved for winter]
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[meta anon] How important was your faceclaim during the creation of your character? Did you have them in mind from the beginning or were they chosen after?
Erin's faceclaim was the literal last thing I figured out for the initial bio app. It's always felt more natural to me to pick an FC after I've laid out a foundation for the character so I know what to look for. I'm also a very visual person so finding someone who matches the tone I've developed in my head in a realistic way was super important to me too.
Erin was actually an original character I played years and years ago in a Buffy RP with a TWD-flavored Lauren Cohan as her original FC. Previously she was a human, wanna-be slayer who worked in a graveyard so she could fight the good fight, honor her mom and protect people from evil. While I kept some themes and attributes from Erin 1.0, she ended up becoming almost a whole new character and needed a fresh face to match. Rachel Weisz and Lizzy Caplan were on my shortlist too but there was something very relatabley human about Cobie's performance in Stumptown that sealed the deal for me. She really just captured that "fallible, stressed, but hella determined and increasingly pissed off normie whose world has been turned upside down and it really fucking shows" vibe I was going for. Just look at her :/
#wickedsanon#meta#//this was FUN#I love reading through everyone's processes#erin has maybe 4 moods#and it's usually the two in the gifs above lmao
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60 with guro reiten please (if u write 4 her)
A/N: this ficlet turned in a full grown fic.
60 - “I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified to be honest”
It wasn’t that you were a player, you simply didn’t want to open yourself up to the wrong person only for them to hurt you……again.
Guro was different to the other girls though. She seemed genuinely interested in you and not just the things on the surface. It first started when the two were assigned to each other on away trips. You remember it was just after the World Cup and you were sour about the way England was knocked out but then the first day of pre-season training you met her and within minutes she had you smiling from ear to ear.
You wanted to get to know her and more important you wanted to let her get to know you. Without realising it you were taking down the walls that surround you heart one by one, or maybe Guro was taking to them with a sledgehammer.
Chelsea had a signing day at the adidas flagship store down Oxford street. You, Millie, Magda, Pernille, Erin and Guro were the players chosen as you were fans favourites, even Emma joined you half way through.
You were sat at the end with Guro next to you. The two of you guys playing games of noughts and crosses as you wait for the next fan in line. Absentmindedly your arm found its way to the back of Guro’s chair, the winger leaning closer to you in response.
A couple of confident fans would sneak you there number but you would hand it back the them stating, in the nicest possible way, that you aren’t interested.
“Y/N turning down a fan, that’s a first” Millie teases.
“Why? She had legs and a beating heart, totally your type” Erin joins in but you can’t help but feel a little bit hurt at her remark. Is this really how she saw you?
“Leave her alone” Magda tells them.
“Thank you”
“At least this way we won’t have her groupies camping outside our hotel just to shoot their shot with the hottest bachelorette in the WSL” Pernille adds.
“Don’t listen to them” you whisper into Guro’s ear.
She doesn’t respond but the look on her face doesn’t fill you with confidence.
Emma, who upon arriving, took a seat next to you at the end before pulling you aside when a staff member calls for a break halfway through the signing.
“What wrong?” She asks and you shake your head, nothing was wrong, this is the happiest you have been in a long time.
“Really? Because the fans are flirting with you and you aren’t giving them the time of day” Emma is straight to the point as always.
“I’m not interested” you response is simple.
“Let’s say I believe you. Can you please just entertain them for the rest of the day. I saw them in line, most of them have your shirt on and we would love for them buy tickets for tomorrow game, don’t you want to play at a sold out kings meadow?”
You sigh deeply. You didn’t want to flirt with the fans especially when the woman you were developing feelings for sat right next to you.
“Are you asking me or telling me?” You want your coach to know that you don’t want to do it but you will if you have to.
“Y/N” Emma says when she sees your face, the cocky confident Y/N she has known for years is nowhere to be seen.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll do what is best for the team”
With that you walk back to the signing table only to find that Guro has swapped with Erin.
“Reunited and it feels so good” Erin sings.
“Fuck off ez” you weren’t in the mood and given your new task you want to get the day over with.
The next hour is painful for you but the fans are loving it. You flirt them, accept their numbers and as asked, you encourage them to come the game, stating that you hope to see their pretty faces in the crowd.
After an hour or so the signing ends.
You missed Guro in the second part of the signing. Erin was great but she failed in comparison to the Norwegian.
“Hello you” you nudge her shoulder.
“Hi” her reply is short and held a little bit of anger.
“Is everything ok? I know these days can be a little bit overwhelming but it’s part of the job” you try to reassure her.
“Well you seemed to be in your element. How many numbers did you get?”
“It doesn’t matter. They are in the bin now”
“Yeah right. I saw you, you loved it”
“No I didn’t, Emma made me. I don’t care about that kind of thing anymore”
“Hey girlies, we are going for some food, do you want to join us?” Millie asks unaware that she is interrupting.
“Yeah sure”
“No” Guro says “I’m going to head home. See you all tomorrow” and with that she was off.
“Guro wait” you say but it is no use as she is already in one of the cars.
Later that night you are out with your friends but you cannot stop thinking about her. You yearned for her company, more so than anyone else’s. It was a feeling that you hadn’t let yourself feel in years.
“Im going to leave, there’s somewhere else I need to be”
You don’t wait for them to respond. You throw some money on the table, enough to cover the bill and then leave.
Standing in front of Guro’s door you are on on your third attempt at knocking. Each time your knuckles are millimetres away you cowardly pull back.
“Jesus Y/N, what is this woman doing to you” you mumble to yourself before ripping the bandaid off and knocking at the door.
It is clear by her face that you are the last person Guro expected to see on the other side of the threshold.
“What are you doing here. I thought you were out with the girls?” She asks.
“I would rather spend my night with you” you say.
Fear washes over you when Guro doesn’t respond, she leaves you standing there.
“Can I come in? There’s something I want to talk to you about” you can see the conflict on her face “please”
She steps aside, her cheeks slightly flushed when she realises that she should have invited you in sooner.
“Why didn’t you come out tonight?” You ask. It is a question that had been on your mind all night.
“They warned me about you. When I first came to the club I let slip that I thought you were hot. Then a few months later I told Erin that I had a crush on you. She told me that you didn’t do the relationship thing and that I would end up hurt if I told you how I felt but then recently it felt you were changing”
“ I have changed Guro, because of you”
“No you haven’t. Today I saw it”
“You saw me pimping myself out on our coaches orders but I didn’t want to. I haven’t wanted to do that kind of thing for a while now”
“What are you saying?” A small smile tugs on Guro’s lips.
“I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified to be honest. I really like you Guro but I don’t want to get hurt again” you surprise yourself at your honesty.
“What kind of chance do we have if you are already thinking about the end?”
“Given my last relationship it’s kinda hard not too” you say hoping that she will see this from your point of view.
“I like you too Y/N, a lot” Guro takes a step closer to you, a knowing look in her eye “I don’t know how this will end but I want to try”
“Would you like to go for coffee tomorrow then we can ride to the game together?” You ask.
“I would but on one condition” your brows furrow in both confusion and intrique “no more getting fans numbers”
“Deal?” Guro holds her hand out
“Deal”
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❛ 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟏 ❫ : 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭.
someone’s once said that becoming a parent is the ultimate shift from self-centered living to selfless living. erin believes that there’s no truer statement. for the past four months her life has revolved solely around her baby boy. and although motherhood is the one thing that she’s always dreamed about and there’s nothing she loves more than tending to sebastian’s every need, it’s definitely taking a toll on her mental health ( without her realizing ). she used to be such a fun, outgoing person and now she can’t remember the last time she got to leave the house or had a friend over, let alone went on a date with her husband. even their new year’s eve ended up being a complete disaster with her mood doing a full one-eighty upon learning that slash had invited them to join him and their other friends downtown and that axl was actually ready to just ditch their son and party the night away. what kind of parent leaves their newborn baby with a babysitter on a day as special as their very first new year’s eve? not the loving kind, for sure. so, she threw a fit, changed into her yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt and stayed home with sebastian. to say that they’ve been struggling ever since would be an understatement. even their baby, who was always such a great sleeper and the happiest little boy, now cries most of the time and only sleeps when one of his parents is holding him. sleep-deprived, impulsive and even more sensitive than before, erin has no idea how to pull her life together and almost no energy to fight for her marriage. sometimes, when things get intense, the only person keeping her from stealing one of axl’s guns and ending her suffering is sebastian.
of course, the one time she gives in and lets axl stay home with the baby all by himself, instead of packing everything up and taking the whiny newborn to the doctor’s office with her, everything goes wrong. her appointment is at 4 p.m., and she knows that she has to be home before 7 p.m. because axl’s playing a show later this evening, the very first one in 1991 if she remembers correctly, and she has to stay home with bastian. she doesn’t really want the entire city, or worse — the entire world, to learn that they’ve had a baby. for safety and privacy reasons. that’s what she’s telling herself, how she justifies her refusal to go to the show with the baby. but that’s only partially true. her son’s immune system is still so very weak that she sees the idea of spending even a second in a crowded room with him as something life-threatening. she leaves the doctor’s office late, heads home in late-afternoon, rush-hour traffic and soon finds herself stuck in a jam of honking cars and frustrated drivers. unfortunately, she doesn’t make it home on time, but it doesn’t really stress her out. she expects to find beta, the new babysitter that axl’s found in some newspaper, in their living room with sebastian in her arms, but what she finds instead is a note. a note that makes her heart lurch into her throat, pounding uncomfortably. her palms sweating. jesus christ.
the next thing she knows, her red jeep is back on the streets, maneuvering dangerously between other vehicles. it’s the longest ride of her entire life. minutes feel like hours as she can’t help but worry about her baby, wonder if he’s okay. he probably isn’t. after all, he has the dumbest, most selfish father in the world. maybe he’s locked in some nasty bathroom, scared and crying, with a diaper that most likely hasn’t been changed ever since she left. these thoughts make her want to tear up as she walks into the crowded bar. wearing a white turtle neck, tucked neatly into her skirt, tights and a pair of doc martens, with her long ringlets cascading down her back, she turns a few heads, but she’s too stressed out to even notice. her mind is fixated on one thing and one thing only — finding her baby and bringing him home. her heart is going a hundred miles an hour, and she’s sure the apples of her cheeks match the scarlet tinge of her short corduroy skirt. she’s furious and so very disappointed with axl. how can he possibly be so reckless? he’s done many dumb things in his life, so has she, but this exceeds her wildest expectations. this is undoubtedly the stupidest, most insane thing that the redhead has ever done. the air is thick with cigarette smoke. it’s enough to constrict her lungs and make her cough. she doesn’t even want to begin to imagine what it’s doing to her poor baby boy. a few months ago he had to fight for each breath and now his father just brought him to a place like this. gosh, how could she trust this man? how could she think he’d know how to take care of her baby? she used to love this bar, the food, the atmosphere, but still no four month old belongs in a place like this. frozen in place, she’s looking around nervously, bright eyes scanning every inch of the room.
╰ @rcsechild
#i hope this is okay but let me know if you want me to change anything <3#im so bad at starters but i still have fun writing them smh#rcsechild#IM ALREADY SO EXCITED FOR THIS!!#also i thought this line from estranged fit this perfectly so i used it :')#i need new tags smh or dig deep to find the old ones#1991.
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pt. 4
*gif is not mine*
word count: 2,101
Ever since my little conversation with the girls I haven’t been able to really be myself around Jeff. Now I notice the side glances, the lingering touches on my thigh, the way his breath hitches when I get pushed a little too close to him at parties, and everything else I haven’t noticed before. My friends were adamant that he liked me back but I couldn’t see it. Slowly I distanced myself from them, for one my manager thought it would be a good idea to release some new music soon so I was extra busy and I can’t really be around my friends without feeling like my heart is going to explode. Of course they started noticing and not a day went by where I didn’t get texts from at least three of them asking where I was and why I stopped coming around. Even Jason and Josh dropped my apartment to make sure I was still alive.
Three weeks have gone by since my sleepover with Jeff. We still talk but not as much as before. Carly and Natalie were constantly calling and texting and I truly felt bad, but it would seem like such a bullshit excuse to say it’s because of my crush on Jeff.
“Sage, this is... this is real good work. I’m thinking we finish it up, and be set to release it in two weeks” James, my manager, said listening to to the final of three of the songs
“Thanks dad, I think today we’re recording the last song. I’ll email you our final version by the end of the day” I reply, he ruffles my hair and nods, leaving for another meeting while the producer and I talk about the last track
We record for about four hours, fine tuning every last detail. After the two of us finally felt good about it we sent the file to James who also gave the approval. We sent it in the the higher ups who also gave us the ok. All the promotional pictures were finished, we had an album cover chosen, now to put it all together and make this my first serious piece of art. After the long morning I decided to head straight to my apartment. I wasn’t particularly hungry anyways. I parked my car and took the elevator up to my apartment.
I noticed shushing and brushed it off, thinking it was just Carly and Erin messing around. I unlock the door and see all of my friends crammed into this fairly small apartment. No one had their cameras out and they all had their arms crossed I sighed and put my things down before shutting the door.
“Before you even say anything. No I’m not on drugs, I don’t hate anyone, and I actually have been working on my music. My first EP is coming out in a few weeks” I explain, their faces relax and Carly walks up to me
“Don’t you ever try to ghost us like that again. We hated it” She said, wrapping her slender arms around my shoulders and I nodded, our friends came around and we all had a sweet group hug
“Well a congratulations are in order. I think we should celebrate tonight” David says, laughing loudly
“Fine, I’m stealing a Red Bull from your fridge though” I say, we all go downstairs and I finally notice some of their cars parked there
We all head to David’s house and I grab a Red Bull. We all sit in the living room. Filming dumb bits and getting ready for tonight. David wanted to throw it at his house since he wanted to keep it relatively small. Natalie, Carly, and Erin went to stock up for the night, asking me about all my favorite things. It took about an hour and a half for them to come back. Everyone helped get things from Nat‘s car and set up. We were finally ready and decided to start drinking before everyone got here.
“May Ilya and Zane stay away from the hospital. Amen” I yell, all of them cheering in response as we take our shots
After a few rounds of shots I was already pretty tipsy. I sat down at the couch, answering a few congratulatory texts from others. I talked to a few of our friends here and there. Jeff was nowhere to be found. I frowned a bit, but who can blame him? After all, I’m the one who made the decision to not talk to him.
“Do you think we could get a sneak peak?” Jason asks, taking a set next to me but I shake my head
“I want to keep it a complete surprise. Plus I’ve been thinking about having a release party and showing everyone there” I said, Jason actually thought that was a much better idea than just playing it
We made small talk here and there, apparently Wyatt has been dying to see my new studio. I loved Jason’s kids like they were my own family, especially since Wyatt and I have such a love for music.
“I’d love to have Wyatt at the studio. He can even record some things if he wants to. I know how to produce as well” I said, Jason damn near cried at the suggestion and we set a date
“Someone looks a little sober” Zane yells from behind us, I laugh and allow him to take me to the kitchen where the others were taking shots or making their best interpretations of different cocktails
After sampling everyone’s horrible attempt at a blackberry mojito it’s safe to say I was one shot away from exiting the physical realm. Especially since Zane decided it was appropriate to just dump nearly an entire bottle of rum in the drink. After a few minutes Todd headed to the door and let someone in. I heard the familiar accent and my heart dropped to my stomach. Jeff is here.
To be fair, I’m probably the only one who really cares that much, especially since I’m drunk as hell and I have a crush on the dude. I try to run and hide in a corner but there’s a lot more people now. I finally see an opening and head straight for the backyard. Thankfully no one noticed because Zane was too busy doing something extremely dangerous. I sit in one of the chairs we reserve for smoking, hitting my puff and scrolling mindlessly through TikTok, trying to get the thoughts out of my head. I hear the sliding door open and look up to see David.
“Alright what’s wrong? You look like we threw a party because we killed your dog” David jokes, my lips spread into a light smile
“Nothing, I’ve just been so exhausted lately with everything going on.. that’s all” I lie, I mean I’m not really lying, just not telling him the whole truth
“So it has nothing to do with Jeff showing up and you’re definitely overthinking and avoiding him even more. C’mon I’ve known you for forever, you can’t lie to me” He replies, his tone suddenly being serious
And it’s true, I’ve known David since I moved out here. He was my first real L.A friend. He’s seen me at my absolute lowest moments, and someone I could always go to whenever something was wrong. I hated that he could read me like a book.
“Fine, the Jeff thing is a contributing factor. But I’m being honest about the exhaustion” I say, crossing my arms like a child
We sit and talk, something we haven’t done in forever. It felt nice to have someone listen to me. After about half an hour of just talking we decide to head back inside. I felt too sober again and took some shots with Natalie and Toddy. I could feel Jeff’s eyes glaring a hole into the side of my head, but I was too sober to deal with anything right now.
At around 1:00 am. I got hungry and ordered DoorDash for everyone. All the other guests had left so it was just our main group scattered around the house. Jeff was surprisingly still here. Todd had whispered to me earlier that the only reason he was sticking around this late was to make sure I got home alright. I smiled at the sentiment, he was always making sure my drunk ass was safe.
Our DoorDash arrived and we all ate while watching some movie David found on Netflix. Jeff took a seat next to me, the look in his eyes was telling me he was going to ask for my permission so I simply nodded and scooted over so he could be comfortable. After we ate David wanted to get some last minute bits before we left for his vlog tomorrow.
“Jeff are you attracted to Sage?” David asks, my breath hitches in my throat, making me choke on my water
“No, I’ve blocked her out. Since she’s part of the friend group I don’t want to make anything weird” He replies, I can tell the answer even made David a little upset
Jason makes a joke to lighten the mood before there’s any tension which I greatly appreciate. Although Jeff’s words struck a cord, while I sit there repeating what he said it hits me. He’s right, I can’t guarantee that if Jeff and I were together that it would be for life and I can’t lose my second family. He’s right, it would never happen. Before I know it I feel my eyes watering and Natalie gently grabs my hand before leading me to her room with the rest of the girls in tow. When she closes the door I finally let it all out
“It’s ok princess, let it out” Mariah says, the girls wrapping me in a group hug
“It’s so stupid, we’re best friends before I let this stupid ass crush ruin everything but just hearing him say that out loud made it so much more concrete that we will never be together” I cry, resting my head on her shoulder
We have a little talk and I clean myself up before we all go back outside. At that point David was done filming and was looking through the footage on his camera to pick out some clips. Jeff was waiting patiently on the couch before Corinna spoke up.
“Hey Jeff, I’m gonna take Sage home. We have some plans tomorrow and it would just be easier if I stay over” She says, it’s sort of true, Corinna has some meetings in the morning and they’re closer to my place but she isn’t staying over
“Oh ok, I should head out then. I’ll see you guys later” Jeff says, saying his goodbyes and leaving
“So was anyone else uncomfortable with Jeff’s answer or was it just me?” David asks, the group agrees, it’s definitely in his right to say that I mean no is mad
“Yea, I wasn’t mad cause it’s his own opinion and Jeff is a big boy, but he seems to sort of lead you on for him to turn around and say that he doesn’t even see you like when we ask him about Natalie and Corinna” Heath replies, everyone nods in agreement and I just sigh
“I’m not mad, I mean I have been sort of ghosting everyone these past few weeks, maybe he’s just upset” I explain, Heath and Todd give me the look
“Baby that’s bullshit and you know it” Heath laughs, Todd agrees with him and taps my leg
“To be honest, he was very stressed out while you were gone” He says, I know he’s trying to make me feel better but it doesn’t really help
Corinna and I leave shortly after we have our little group talk. We caught up during the car ride and before I know it we’re at my apartment. We say goodbye and plan to meet for lunch tomorrow before I head up to my apartment. I knew Carly was probably fast asleep so I tried to be as quiet as possible.
I get ready for bed and climb into my warm blanket, wrapping myself like a burrito. I browse TikTok on my phone for a few minutes before setting my alarm. Just before I let sleep take over my phone buzzes on my nightstand.
Jeff: I missed you.. I’m sorry for being an asshole tonight. I had no idea that I was leading you on, but I didn’t know you had a crush on me..
Fuck.
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Thanks // Jay Halstead x Reader // Pt 8
Description: Jay and Y/N continue to find their footing in this new relationship while beginning to navigate helping Mouse.
Warnings: None
Pairing: Jay x Reader, Reader x Mouse!Platonic, Jay x Mouse!Platonic
Words: 2271
A/N: This part has been a pain in my butt, and I still feel like it isn’t flowing right. But, I’ve done all I can do to try and fix it. Hopefully the next part will be a bit better.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
“How does dinner tonight sound?” Jay asked you over the phone as you walked through the halls of Chicago Med, heading down to the ED for a psych consult. He’d called you on the rare lunch break he had.
Things had been going great since the two of you had kissed that night. In fact, it was better than great. Nearly every night during the next week, the two of you were at one of the apartments. Not to mention, going and seeing Mouse, though you hadn’t told him yet of the new relationship development.
“Sounds like you should pick me up at seven,” you agreed. “Anything in particular I should wear?”
“Something border-line fancy.” That peaked your interest, but you weren’t going to be able to get further clarification as the elevator opened up on the first floor.
“Got it. I’m in the ED for a consult. I’ll text you when I can, but I will definitely see you at seven sharp,” you told him, the two of you saying quick goodbyes before hanging up the phone. You couldn’t help but strut into the ED with a smile on your face and an air of increased confidence about you.
“Y/N,” Maggie called out, quickly making your way over to her. “What’s got you in such a good mood today?” Talking to Maggie was like talking to an older sister, she always knew the right things to say. Plus, she always knew when something was up. And something was definitely up with you.
“I have a hot date tonight,” you answered with a giggle, not telling her who it was. But with the raise of her eyebrow and the smirk on her face, you were sure she already knew.
“Would he happen to be the better looking Halstead brother?”
“I heard that!” Will called out from his computer, though he didn’t look offended, flashing you a smile. Seemed like he might know about the new arrangement as well.
“I’m not one to kiss and tell, Maggie. Where am I going?”
The rest of the day flew by, Daniel giving you the contact information for his social worker friend. You’d bring that up to Jay later, knowing he was going to do what he could for Mouse. In fact, he was excited, sending you links to facilities in Chicago that he wanted to look at.
When you got home, you went ahead and hopped in the shower, not wasting any time in getting ready for your date tonight. A date with Jay Halstead. It was something else, that was for sure. When you first met him, you would have never guessed that this would be where you’d end up. Not in a million years, yet…
The black dress hugged you just right, letting your y/h/c hair down for once, a slight curl to it. A natural make-up look to piece it all together, and a pair of heels. You were ready to go, finishing up just a few minutes before a familiar knock on the door. When you opened it, Jay stood there with a smile.
“You look...wow,” he complimented with a smile, bringing you in for a kiss. When you pulled away, you let your hands rest on his chest.
“You look pretty spiffy yourself,” you retired before another quick kiss. “You ready to go?”
He led you down to his truck, opening the door for you and helping you in. As he drove through the still busy Chicago streets, one hand held onto yours, occasionally glancing over at you with a smile. The radio played low in the background as you told him about the day you’d had at work, leaving the information Daniel had given you out for the time being.
He pulled up in front of an Italian restaurant you’d only ever passed, never thinking you’d go. It always seemed too expensive. Once the car was in park, he met you on the other side, helping you out as well.
“This is too much, Jay,” you told him as he took your hand, walking inside.
“You deserve this. Plus, I want our first date to be memorable,” he corrected, the waiter leading you to a table. First date...it had a nice ring to it as the two of you sat down, beginning to peruse over the menu.
The dinner went amazing, enjoying both your food and your company. Jay talked a bit about his childhood, why he’d joined the military, what he’d been up to since he got back. Finally, substantial conversation and not just something to fill the silence. The night continued after dinner, moving a cocktail lounge less than a block away for a couple of drinks. This time, you were the one to talk about your tumultuous childhood, moving from army base to army base before leaving for college. You’d each had a couple of mixed drinks, not enough to be drunk, but enough to feel it.
“You good driving or should we get an Uber?” you asked him when the two of you walked out of the bar.
“Yeah, I’ll be good. I’m not that drunk,” he assured you, walking back to the valet to get the car. His arm was around your shoulders, yours around his waist. “Plus, your place isn’t that far luckily.”
“True. Thank god for a doc’s salary, right?” You could feel the vibration in his chest when he laughed.
The ride back home wasn’t quiet either. Now, he was telling you funny stories and the drama from work over the years in Intelligence. You’d only heard about the team, not actually having met anybody yet. Though, you were pretty sure you’d meet them soon if you were seeing Jay. He parked the truck out front, not turning it off.
“You should come upstairs,” you suggested, really not wanting the night to end. The glimmer in his eye and the smile on his face said he wanted the same thing, but the words out of his mouth were a different story.
“I shouldn’t,” he corrected, smile fading just a bit, so you reached out to grasp his hand as you tried to understand his hesitations.
“What’s going through your head?” That got an eyebrow raise from him. “As your...more than friends epic experience.”
“If I go upstairs, then things change,” he answered.
“Jay, things are changing already. They have changed. So much over the past few months, and even more in the past week. There’s nothing I want more than to be with you. But if you’re having second thoughts…” You hoped he wasn’t, considering he’d just dished out quite a bit of money on dinner and drinks.
“No! No. No second thoughts here. We haven’t had the ex talk, and I have a lot more baggage than I let on.”
“Then come upstairs, and we can talk. Nothing else, just...talk,” you shrugged, hoping he would agree. It took a minute to get a nod in agreement, both of you getting out of the truck and going upstairs. “Now, as much as I love this outfit, I’m going to go change. Make yourself at home.”
You changed into a tank-top and shorts, pulling your hair up into a messy bun before rejoining him in the living room. He’d ditched his suit jacket, the fabric laying on one of the dining room chairs. His shoes were next to the door, sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone on his shirt. You couldn’t help but smile before sitting down next to him. It felt so natural as his arm came around you, letting you lean into him.
“It was tough for me when I got back state-side. I’ve told you that before. But it doesn’t feel like it got easier at times. The first person I was with after I got back, her name was Abbey. We knew each other when I served, and we met again in Vegas at a funeral for one of the guys,” he explained. “We hooked up a couple of times, a coping mechanism. And then we got married. I didn’t remember half of it. We got divorced a few years later. It was supposed to be sooner, but apparently she never signed the papers. Then there was Erin. I mean, I really wasn’t into the hookup culture when I got back. We were together for almost three years. I thought I was going to marry her, but things didn’t end up that way.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” you asked him, since it seemed like he was done.
“Since I’ve been back, I haven’t been with a lot of people. I just...It’s stupid,” he brushed off, shaking his head.
“No, it’s not, Jay. Whatever it is, it’s something that’s on your mind.” You wanted to hear it, wanted to know how his mind worked, what made him happy and sad and mad, what made him get out of the bed in the mornings.
“It’s because of the leg,” he finally said with a sigh, which made you understand a little better. “Just, being in that situation with somebody is stressful almost. And it shouldn’t be. You know, after thirteen years I should be over it. With Erin, she got used to it, but the first few times were awkward. And with Abbey, we were too drunk most of the time for me to even care.”
“I won’t think any different of you Jay. I’ve already seen it, so on my end, you’re still the same Jay I’ve always known with no surprises thrown in. There’s no rush, though. I want to know you, every part of you, inside and out.” You let your head rest on his chest,
“You really know how to make a guy swoon, babe.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, your eyes closing with a content sigh. “Maybe I could stay the night though? Get used to everything?”
“I’d like that. You work tomorrow?” you asked him, getting a head shake and a smile from you. “Neither do I, which makes tonight an even better night for you to stay. I might have an old pair of shorts that would fit you.”
“I have a bag in my car for those long nights at work. I’ll be right back,” he promised, getting up to go downstairs.
Again, you didn’t personally understand his worries and insecurities, but you understood the concept behind them. Intimacy after amputation was a difficult thing at times. You weren’t going to push it, though, deciding to just let things take their course. Just like promised, he was right back, disappearing into the bathroom to change. When he reemerged, he set the rest of his suit with his jacket, dressed in a grey t-shirt and a pair of shorts. It was the first time you’d seen his prosthetic.
“Want to head to bed, or sit out here for a bit?” you asked as he stood behind the couch, hands resting on the fabric on either side of your head. He smiled down at you.
“Bed sounds like a plan,” he answered, getting you to stand up and lead him back into your room. When you looked at him, you just saw Jay.
You sat down on the left side of the bed -- your side -- while Jay sat on the right. You went ahead and got yourself situated as Jay just sat there, watching him take deep breaths. So, you got up on your knees behind him, arms wrapping around his stomach and pressing a kiss to his shoulder not saying anything. He relaxed back into you before leaning down to slide his prosthetic off as well as the sleeve. As he did so, you let your fingers run along his back, watching the process.
“You’re not freaked out by this?” he asked you as the two of you finally laid down.
“Not one bit. The benefit of med school.” It took a minute to find a good situation where you both were comfortable, your head on his chest. At first, it was odd to only feel one full leg with yours, but didn’t take long to get used to. “Alexa. House lights off,” you called out, the lights dimming before turning completely off.
“Okay, I need to get me one of those. No more having to get up to turn the lights off,” Jay told you, his fingertips tracing invisible patterns on your back. “Would make life just a bit easier.”
��You want to carpool tomorrow?” you asked him, pulling the blanket up over the two of you.
“Sure. Save some gas money,” he agreed. “Maybe we can tell Mouse about this -- us,” he quickly corrected. It seemed like you were both on the same page of wanting it to be more, which was a benefit. Though, you knew you still had to work towards it. “Any progress on applying to be Mouse’s guardian?”
“Yeah. Daniel gave me the information for the social worker. She could probably answer your questions better than I can. Have you found a lawyer yet?” you countered, sighing as he continued to draw patterns.
“I’ve been looking into it. Voight is giving me a couple suggestions, some people that owe him favors I guess. I won’t be the one to ask why they owe favors, though, that’s for sure. Some secrets are better left secrets.” You wondered what he meant by that, but didn’t ask, not sure how. Plus, you weren’t going to be awake long enough to ask, eyes drifting shut before falling into a restful sleep.
Tag List: @yzas-stuff @gemmafountainloves @ceiliesla @corebore123 @annaallicce @fullwattpadmusictree @bethii1 @thevelvetseries @mich-lynne3 @itmejado @music-is-my-escape71 @not-onlyedmlyrics @supergirl000983 @mandybug39 @okiegirl24 @haileymatthewss @httphiddlestan @capmanranger @ahhh0ahhh @bookgiver @daenerys-targaryes @galacticsmoon @beachfan412 @wearesodrica @danielacastellon @genericcaner @halsteadsway @theskytraveler @miranda0102 @amyarondottir @onechicago18 @lovecatystuff @doramstr @itsdesiree86 @raveenasblog @smalltowngirly05 @formulahockey @lookatallthefeels @carlimel @talicat713 @paulafdez99 @hehurst23
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A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink (1/4)
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. ~15.2K. Also on AO3.
A/N: Presenting my contribution to the @cssns! “The Night Circus” by Erin Morgenstern is a favorite book of mine that I have long thought would make for an excellent CS AU. And so, I’m finally doing it. At length.
I was incredibly lucky to be paired with @eirabach for this event, who created the beautiful art attached above. She has such amazing ideas for bringing this fic to life in all its atmospheric glory that I never would have thought of. Her art is also posted on her tumblr; go give it all the love it deserves!
Thanks also go to @snidgetsafan, my ever-phenomenal beta, and @ohmightydevviepuu, who read the book at my urging and then agreed to read my monster to make sure nothing important was left out. This fic is better for both their efforts.
Tagging the usual suspects for now. If you want to be added to (or removed from!) this list, just shoot me a message: @welllpthisishappening, @profdanglaisstuff, @thisonesatellite, @let-it-raines, @kmomof4, @scientificapricot, @thejollyroger-writer, @superchocovian, @teamhook, @optomisticgirl, @winterbaby89, @searchingwardrobes, @katie-dub, @snowbellewells
Enjoy - and let me know what you think! Next chapter will be posted whenever I get it done.
~~~~~
The circus arrives at night.
There is never any warning of its arrival; no handbills stuck to the lampposts or announcement from some other lucky town that yours will be next. It is simply there one morning, all the black and white tents taking on a particularly mystical quality in the light of the sunrise. At the front gate is a sign:
Le Cirque des Rêves
Open sunset until sunrise
(And what a curious idea, that; a circus that is only open at night.)
The circus is a place where anything can happen, and routinely does. Those who visit leave with an awareness that no street-side carnival or traveling minstrel will ever induce such enjoyment again; everything must naturally pale in comparison. The illusionist is somehow more magical, the fortune-teller more wise, the contortionists and acrobats more daring. The world of the circus, created all in black and white and silver and lit by delicate lanterns and a great bonfire at its center, feels otherworldly - and you somehow feel that it just might be.
In a word, the circus is magic, brought to life right in front of your eyes, and you know you will never be the same for having witnessed it.
Our story does not begin at the circus, however; it only ends there.
———
Our story begins in the back corner of a smoky tavern, or a grimy alley, or a dimly lit dressing room of a theater, or any number of other places that exist in-between the rest of humanity, overlooked, utterly invisible in their mundanity.
(In truth, it does not matter where our story begins - only that it does.)
A woman sits in a darkened corner. More attentive observers might recognize her as the famed stage magician, Circe the Enchantress, capable of tricks beyond their wildest imagination.
(Even the most observant wouldn’t realize that all of Circe’s “tricks” are gloriously real; the human mind is excellent at not seeing things that it doesn’t want to acknowledge.)
(The most observant won’t notice the way she purposefully draws the shadows further around herself, either, just to ensure that the rest of humanity around her can’t penetrate the curtain of dark.)
Circe isn’t her real name, of course; it just sounds good on a playbill, capable of attracting people from far and wide. These days, she goes by Regina Mills, though there’s been other names before that: Corwin and King and Bowen and Smith. Names aren’t much of a concern for those as old as she, just another passing distraction when you’ve witnessed hundreds of years.
Hundreds of years don’t make the waiting any easier when the person you’re expecting can’t bother to arrive on time.
“You’re late,” she comments drily when her companion finally arrives, a slight man with a slighter limp. They may as well be a study in opposites; where Regina plays with shadow to avoid notice, he’s draped himself in a spell that causes an observer’s eyes to glance away without seeing; while Regina tries on names like hats over the decades and centuries, changing with every whim, her companion has allowed his own moniker to become lost to time, known only now to very few and only as Mr. Gold.
“Au contraire, dearie,” he replies mildly, though the irritated glint in his eye would terrify anyone else. “I arrived exactly when I needed to. What is time to those like us, anyhow?”
“A convenient construct that keeps those you have appointments with from waiting around for any longer than they have to.”
Mr. Gold studiously ignores the quip. “Why did you ask me here tonight, Regina?”
“I’m in the mood for a game,” she says, faux-casually. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a proper competition.”
“Ah yes,” her companion smirks. “If I remember right, my contestant defeated yours last time.”
“On a technicality,” Regina corrects through gritted teeth.
“In this world of absolutes, I often find a technicality is all it takes to shift the balance. And magic, true power… that’s the greatest technicality of them all.”
“I’m rather less inclined to deal in technicalities, at least where the matter of starting a new game is involved,” Regina snaps. Any minute shred of patience or humor she might have possessed is long since gone, even if her companion remains unruffled. “It really boils down to: do you want to, or not?”
“Never let it be said I turn down a challenge, dearie.” This time, it’s impossible to miss the menace behind the supposed endearment. “In fact, I’d say you were the one being… shall we say, vague about the details of this all. Do you have a venue in mind? Or are you leaving that particular bit up to me?”
Regina waves a dismissive hand. “Do as you will. You know I’m not much interested in that, anyways.”
“You never did understand the importance of setting.”
“Perhaps I simply have faith that my contestant will prevail regardless.”
That piques Gold’s interest. “You already have a candidate in mind, then?”
“And fully anticipate taking them as a student, yes. I suppose you’ll want to be there to bind them to the competition?”
“You know me well.”
“I should bloody well hope so,” Regina mutters under her breath. They both know, however, that Mr. Gold hears the words regardless.
Carefully, the man in question stands from the table, supporting himself on a gilt-ended cane. Any limp that might necessitate such an accessory has long since been corrected; some things are more about the effect, anyways. “If there’s nothing else, Regina, I have other matters to attend to.”
“I expect you do,” Regina smirks. “After all, I’ve already spotted my player, and you’ve yet to find yours.”
“That is true,” Gold concedes with a deceptive mildness. “But remember, dearie: it isn’t about how the game starts, or when, or where. It’s about where it ends. And I have full confidence my acolyte will be able to last the distance.”
With their business concluded, both magicians fade back into the night. Pedestrians continue along the streets, occasionally interrupted by a horse and carriage, all unaware of the true nature of the beings weaving through their midst.
(Dozens of lives have been altered with this ten minute conversation, but the world at large will never know that either.)
———
Emma Swan spends a lot of time by herself.
That’s to be expected, in some ways; she’s an orphan, after all, having spent all 6 years of her life bouncing between begging in the children’s homes and begging on the streets, desperate for the help of others and receiving very little of it.
But Emma is different, in a way that scares others and has left her to bounce around for years. Emma can do things that others can’t do, like the sparks that dance between her fingers and all the little things that sometimes move, falling off shelves and tables and everything else, whenever she’s upset. She can’t control it, not really, and in a life like hers, there are far too many opportunities to be upset.
A lady had seen her the other day - one of the fancy ladies by the theaters, the kind that usually pretend they don’t see Emma, like her very existence might dirty their skirts. Emma hadn’t meant to - she never means for these things to happen. But the days are getting colder, and when she really starts to shiver, even with her arms curled around herself to conserve heat, sometimes the little sparks just happen. It’s like whatever this thing is is just trying to keep her warm too.
And no one should have seen her, tucked away in that corner, but the lady is already looking around with a frown on her face like she’s searching for something, and when she turns Emma’s way, it just happens. The lady’s eyes focus on Emma, drawn by those little shoots of light, even as she shoves her hands into her armpits. Emma expects gasping, or screaming, or maybe even a panicked shout for the police - it wouldn’t be the first time - but instead, the lady just tilts her head and narrows her eyes, as if she’s seen something interesting. Then she nods abruptly and leaves.
Emma doesn’t expect to see the lady again - indeed, she rather thinks she’s dodged a bullet. But a week later, she rounds the corner with a filched apple and runs straight into the lady.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” Emma mumbles, ducking her head and trying to scoot around the older woman. When the lady darts out an elegant hand to grab Emma’s arm and hold her in place, panic courses through her veins. “Please, Ma’am, I didn’t do nothing, I swear —”
“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” the lady snaps, tugging Emma into the mouth of an unnaturally quiet alley. “I don’t care about whatever you ‘didn’t do’. I want to talk about what you did the other day.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Emma mumbles, staring studiously at her feet.
“Of course you do - the lights, in your hands. Don’t lie to me. That’s a gift, don’t you know that?”
Emma shakes her head no.
“Your gift - it can do wonderful things. It makes you special.”
“I’m not special.”
The lady considers that for a moment before answering. “No. But you could be. I could teach you.”
Now that catches Emma’s attention. “You can? How?”
“I can do things like that too,” the lady explains with a smile that seems more smug than pleased. Sure enough, when the lady turns her hand upright, a small ball of flame burns there. Emma’s eyes practically bulge out of her head as she watches that little lick of fire - like her own, in so many ways.
“If you come with me, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” the lady says. It sounds like an order, not an offer; Emma knows how to recognize those. Still, maybe…
“Like a mother?” she asks hopefully, even if she knows that’s unlikely.
The lady scrunches her nose in a kind of instinctual disgust. It’s about as much as Emma expected. “Heavens, no. Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolds. “No, more like… you’d be my apprentice, and I’d teach you our trade.”
That seems odd to Emma; this lady, with her fancy dress and her fancy hat and her posh accent, doesn’t seem like the type who should have to work. “What’s your work?”
For the first time this whole conversation, the lady bends down to properly meet Emma’s eyes. Emma straightens a bit at the gesture, already able to tell she’s about to impart something important. “Magic,” the woman tells her with a smug, adult kind of smile.
“Magic isn’t real,” Emma says back, almost automatically. Six years in orphanages and left to her own devices have long since proved there are no fairy godmothers in this world, not for little girls like her.
The woman straightens. “The bits of it you have dancing around your fingers right now say otherwise.”
Emma looks down in horror to see it again - the sparks that she tries so hard to hide, that give her so much trouble. For all the mad things this lady says, she’s the first to not look at the display in alarm or even fear.
“You can make it go away?”
“I can teach you to control it,” the lady corrects, “and so much more. I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime, Emma. Don’t be such a fool as to reject that.”
And even at six, Emma is not a fool.
Emma goes with the lady, who she learns is called Regina. She never learns how Regina knew her name, but writes it off as magic.
(There are far worse fates for lost girls like her.)
———
Emma has been with Regina for a week when the strange man shows up backstage at the theater where Regina is performing.
One week isn’t a lot of time in the grand scheme of an apprenticeship, but her teacher is guiding Emma to recognize magic in the world - the way it pulls toward Emma like an odd kind of magnet and traces linger in the air for hours. Emma has learned to see the faint, radiating glow of magic around her own mentor; this man doesn’t quite have the same glow, but there’s a hum that emanates from him that she thinks might be the same thing.
Regina introduces the man as a friend, but Emma doesn’t think that’s quite right. She’s always had a knack for recognizing lies - maybe that’s a kind of magic, she wonders now - and her benefactor isn’t quite telling the truth. Maybe that’s one of the half-lies that adults tell, when they think the truth is too difficult for a child to comprehend.
Regardless of what the man might be - friend, foe, acquaintance, something else altogether - Emma can’t help but feel uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. The sparks burst and dance around her fingertips again, entirely without her say-so - something the man quickly notices.
“You’ve found a natural talent, then?” The words are addressed at Regina, but his eyes never leave Emma.
“I told you I had someone in mind,” Regina bites back, just barely on the right side of civility. “Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t have all day.”
“Patience was never your strong suit, was it, Regina?” The man’s tone is mild, but his eyes flash with displeasure. Still, he crouches in front of Emma, granting her his full attention. Though he carries a cane, the movement doesn’t appear to pain him in the way she expects. “What do they call you, young miss?”
She doesn’t particularly want to answer, but Regina has a particular look in her eye that says that she doesn’t really have a choice. “Emma,” she finally mumbles, avoiding the man’s eyes.
“Emma,” he parrots back. “What a lovely name. May I see your hand, Emma?”
Silently, she offers it, palm facing up. Once she does so, the man slips a plain gold ring off his pinky finger, sliding it onto Emma’s own ring finger instead. Curiously, Emma looks at the bauble; it is far too loose on her small finger at first, but as she watches, the band shrinks to fit until it’s a perfect fit. It doesn’t stop though, continuing to tighten and tighten until the metal sears into her skin, burning the flesh until she cries out in pain and tears spring to her eyes.
And then it’s over. The mysterious man lifts her hand with deceptively soft and delicate fingers, removing that awful ring from her digit to slip it back onto his own.
“You’ll do well, Emma.” The name almost sounds like an insult in his cold voice. “I wish you good fortune.”
(Emma doesn’t notice the item wrapped in a handkerchief Regina passes to the odd man, never realizes that it contains a silver ring to match the one he just used on her, too focused on rubbing at the smooth, scarred skin on her finger where the odd man’s ring just branded her and trying to chase the memory of pain away. One day, she will understand the way that this moment and that ring bound her to a future she didn’t fully understand.
But today, Emma is six, and all she knows is that her finger hurts.)
“You don’t want to do this yourself?” Mr. Gold asks, tucking the handkerchief and ring into his inner breast pocket.
“Obviously not. I’m not nearly as mistrusting as you are,” Regina replies.
(One day soon, Mr. Gold knows he will have cause to execute this binding on a student of his own. It does not matter much to him whether Regina is present for such a binding, though he thinks her a fool for her own sake. After all, knowledge is power - and there is no power greater than knowing your opponent.)
———
A strange man comes to Killian’s school on a Wednesday when he is eight, the kind of day where everything is shifting and changing.
(School is a generous word for this place, as none of the children ever leave, no homes or families to return to at the end of the day. Killian has a brother, three years older, but their mother is long dead. As for their father… as Liam says, the less said about the bastard, the better. There is a reason the two boys have found themselves in this children’s home by any other name.)
The man doesn’t say much, and explains even less. A selection of children, three boys and two girls - including Killian and Liam - are pulled from their regular classes and made to sit for an exam, only instructed to read all the instructions before beginning. The man must have money; the test is printed, each letter pressed in black ink onto the crisp page. It feels like a silly use of money, at least to Killian - he’d much rather use it at one of the concession vendors down by the river - but it’s impressive all the same. The test itself is not fully any one subject; there are translations of languages he doesn’t understand and number puzzles and a curious instruction at the end to only answer questions numbered in multiples of three. At the very end - question 57 - is a short answer question: Why do you think you are here today, and why are you taking this test?
Killian looks around the room at the other children, all diligently working on their own exams. There’s no obvious connector between the five children in the room; Liam has always been brilliant, but Killian is a middling student, and the other boy even lower than that. Some of them are known as quiet and well behaved, but some are not. Some are leaders, some are followers. There’s no obvious pattern.
As to why he’s taking this test… it’s obvious that the man must want to evaluate something, but Killian can’t begin to understand what. As far as his young brain can discern, the exam is about recognizing patterns and following directions. He couldn’t even begin to figure out why.
Killian stares at the space for his answer for what feels like hours. Even after nearly three years in this home, or perhaps because of it, he still has a strong desire to please, to give adults the answers they want to hear; in this case, he just doesn’t know what that is. Finally, as the other children start to put down their pencils, he hurriedly scrawls an answer.
Does it really matter?
After the exams are collected, the children are called in to speak with the man, one by one. None of the conversations are very long, and each trails out with a look of confusion on their face afterwards. Killian tries to catch Liam’s eye as his brother leaves the headmistress’ office, but Liam just furrows his brow and shrugs his shoulders in confusion.
The man holds Killian’s test in his hands when he finally enters the office, appearing to examine his answers. The man is perfectly ordinary in every way; neither short nor tall, thin nor fat, with hair that is not quite brown or blond or grey. The only thing that sets him apart is his clothing - the expensive suit, the perfectly shined shoes, the gold-tipped cane.
“Does it really matter?” the man quips, diving straight in and obviously quoting Killian’s own response.
Killian swallows heavily; he wouldn’t have written that in the first place if he knew this was coming. “Sir?”
“Your answer,” he expands, as if that needs clarifying. “I’d be curious to hear why you gave that particular answer.”
Killian flushes and looks at his shoes, but the man just waits until he finally answers. “It was obvious you had a reason for having us sit that exam,” he finally explains, “and I had no idea why that was. I didn’t want to guess.”
“You could have left it blank,” the man points out. “Several of the others did. Why the question?”
Killian shrugs. “I wanted to know.” Then, when the silence stretches out between them: “Was that wrong?”
The man stares in silence for a moment longer, before shaking his head. “I would like to take you on as my student,” he declares. When Killian hesitates, his tone turns sharp. “Are you opposed to that?”
“What about my brother?” Killian asks, meeker than he’d like.
“I am only interested in taking one student.” His words are dismissive, bordering on uncaring, and Killian’s stomach plummets.
“But what will happen to him? He’s the only thing I have left.”
“I’m more interested in what happens to you, particularly in relation to my offer, than in your brother.”
In a burst of courage (or, he’ll think in later years, foolishness), Killian pulls himself together to make a fateful declaration. “I’ll go with you… but only if you send Liam - send my brother to school.”
“This is a school.”
“A good school,” Killian clarifies. “The best one. One that will let him do anything he wants when he’s grown up.”
There’s a pause as the mystery man seems to study Killian, though his face gives nothing away. Killian’s heart climbs into his throat as he waits, but he holds his ground. That seems important, somehow - like he’s engaging in some kind of unknown battle. Finally, after what seems an eternity, the odd man tilts his head in a half shrug, as if such a concession is nothing to him. Who knows; with the kind of money he obviously has, maybe it really is nothing. “We have a deal. Go get your things - we leave today.”
(Months later, after many lessons that Killian doesn’t yet understand, the man - Mr. Gold - has Killian place a ring on his finger, a loop of silver that burns a band of flesh on his thumb. A binding, Mr. Gold calls it, tying Killian to a contest that he does not yet understand.
However, it is this transaction - Liam’s education for Killian’s own - that binds him far sooner and better than magic ever could.)
———
Magic, Emma finds, is a thread upon the breeze - swirling around them all, lighting upon branches and settling into corners, just waiting to be noticed and harnessed. And Emma does - she feels it, and knows it, and asks it for favors. Dye the dress. Fold the sheet. Heal the dove. The magic deigns to come and wind through her fingers, grip a thread and pull and alter the world to her liking.
Magic, she finds, is whimsy and wildness all in one, there for her to use and set free once again. Magic is power, more than she will ever wield; her role is but to borrow and return, like a toy set neatly back on a shelf.
Magic, she finds, is a living thing all its own, and if she works very hard, she just might earn its trust.
Emma grows to enjoy a better childhood than she ever expected before Regina took her off the streets, though it is far from gentle. It is a childhood spent moving from place to place, hopping all over Europe and even to the Americas as Regina performs in theaters around the world. Regina demands nothing less than perfection in their lessons, and Emma grows used to performing the same tasks over and over until her mentor is satisfied - turning tea cups into mice and materializing all manner of objects from unseen rooms and healing her fingertips from where Regina slices the skin with a knife, each scar a supposed indication that she’s not trying hard enough.
But in time, Emma learns and she grows. At 18, Regina deems her skills honed enough to rent her out as a medium, calling upon Emma’s skills to rattle dishes and peer into people’s deepest, saddest thoughts to echo back just what they want to hear. Emma hates every moment of it - lying to people already wracked with grief, taking their money and offering them little satisfaction. She tries to comfort the bereaved as best she can in these sessions, but it’s often of little use. Emma may dread these hollow performances, but what choice does she have? As long as she’s under Regina’s tutelage and protection, Emma’s choices are not her own.
(She may not know nearly as much about this competition as she should, but Emma longs for the beginning of the contest all the same, if only to finally crawl out from underneath Regina’s thumb.)
———
Magic, Killian finds, is a well of ink, the feeling of satisfaction deep within him when pen births onto page the perfect word, a descriptor for all the things he knew but could never say. It takes hours and years of study, but Killian learns all the ways to channel that pool - each spell, each rune, each intricate bit of charmwork. Magic is hard, but Mr. Gold says all power worth having is; besides, Killian has always been diligent.
(The lessons are much more interesting than his regular schoolwork, anyways.)
Magic, he learns, is there, if one just knows how to look for it. Most people will go their entire lives without being aware of that; he’s special to have learned. Knowing opens a whole universe of possibility; after that, it’s all down to technique, and finding the right language to channel it.
Magic, he finds, is a tool, and if he works very hard, he just might be able to harness it to his will.
Killian’s childhood is a regimented one, filled with books and careful note taking, mastering the theory and principle of every bit of magic he encounters before being allowed to put it to use. As the years stack up, his head fills with runes and symbols and all manner of magical words, like another language he’s slowly become fluent in. In time, Killian learns to piece all of it together into a powerful language only known to a select few - words that can make things happen, that can alter the very world around them. The language of magic, at its very core.
Mr. Gold may be a distant mentor, not prone to affection and rarely even telling Killian he’s proud or pleased, but he keeps his word. Liam attends the best boys’ school that money can secure, impressing his teachers with his innate curiosity and intelligence and making a whole host of friends who are happy to host him on school holidays. Once a month, Mr. Gold takes Killian to see Liam, or brings Liam to see Killian, all with a transport more efficient than any train or carriage. In between, the brothers gladly fill the weeks with exchanged letters, keeping one another apprised of their lives. Killian had told Liam about this arrangement from the beginning - the magic, the competition he’ll one day engage in - and his older brother offers all the pride that Killian doesn’t receive from his mentor. It’s not the path that either anticipated following as children, but it’s a much better life than either expected. There’s a lot to be grateful for.
As Killian grows into a man and learns how to study independently, his enigmatic teacher leaves him to his own devices. Killian prefers it that way, really; though he’s always been grateful for the mysterious, once in a lifetime opportunity he’s been offered, Killian has never been close to his benefactor, not by a long shot. There’s a feeling that hangs over every interaction that he’s never been able to shake, that he owes Mr. Gold in ways he’ll never fully understand. It’s never made for an easy relationship.
Besides, he likes his independence. He is granted a little flat in a quiet and respectable part of the city, with room for a library and a pretty view of a nearby park. It’s more than an orphan like him ever imagined he could have before this opportunity fell in his lap. There are moments of loneliness, but no more than he’s grown used to in youth; besides, as adults, Liam drops by for conversation and a nightcap far more frequently. It’s a little life he’s carved out for himself, with his notebooks and spellbooks and everything in its place, even as he continues the interminable wait for a contest he still barely knows anything about.
It’s all the more surprising, then, when one day the knock at his front door reveals none other but his teacher, as neatly turned out as ever and utterly unexpected.
“Won’t you come in?” Killian asks, stepping aside in welcome. He doesn’t much expect the invitation to be accepted, but he asks all the same; he’s used to interactions with his teacher being strictly business.
Sure enough: “That won’t be necessary. This will only be a moment.” Gold’s tone might generously be described as brusque, if Killian was in a mood to be so generous. He’s not, particularly.
“What can I do for you, then?”
“A Mr. Jefferson Madigan will be seeking a secretary and assistant,” Gold tells him, handing over someone else’s calling card. “You will apply for that position.”
It’s an odd command; Killian’s benefactor has never cultivated much of an opinion about his life of study and leisure up to this point. But suddenly, it clicks. “Is this about the challenge?”
“Mr. Madigan and his companions will be creating a venue.” Technically, it’s neither a confirmation nor a denial, but over the years, Killian has learned to read those answers as well as any book. It’s an affirmative. “It will be to your advantage to become part of that circle.”
“I understand,” Killian nods gravely.
“Make sure that you do.”
Killian looks down to examine the address on the calling card, and by the time he looks up again, Gold is gone. His teacher does that, he’s learned - found a way to move through the world while barely leaving a mark upon it. With the conversation clearly over, Killian closes his flat door.
(All the while, a metaphorical door of possibility has been thrown wide open.)
———
Mr. Jefferson Madigan may be the man for whom the word eccentric was crafted.
The townhouse is only a townhouse in the aristocratic sense of the word, more an elaborate and enormous monolith situated in town than just a normal dwelling. The door knocker is cast in the shape of two dragons, and curtains in a variety of different and garish colors peek through the window. At the bottom of what are otherwise staid, conventional stone steps are marble statues of a rabbit and a dormouse where regal lions might usually be.
It all makes sense when the man himself opens the door. While Killian has taken care to dress neatly in a trim, dark colored suit and tie, making his best attempt at the appearance of professionalism, Madigan is a riot of colors and patterns that Killian isn’t entirely certain match, but seem fitting all the same. Behind him, the entry hall is decorated in a jewel-tone blue with golden patterns and baseboards, but that makes a little more sense now that Killian has seen the man himself.
“Are you here about the vaudeville acts? Because I’m afraid that we’re rather moved on from that idea,” he says without introduction, words tumbling one right over the other in a jumble.
“I… No,” Killian manages to stutter out. A question like that has a way of putting a man off-guard. “I was led to believe you were in need of a secretary or assistant?”
“Ah. That makes more sense.” Mr. Madigan nods as if to cement it in his head. “Have you done that kind of work before?”
“No, Sir.”
“Well, that’s fine, I’ve never had a secretary before either.” By the look on his face, Madigan would be much more comfortable conducting an interview for a vaudeville actor than a secretary. “Then can you… I don’t know. Read and write and do sums? File things? I don’t think I’ve ever filed something in my life,” he mutters to himself.
“Yes, Sir. To all of it.”
“Well then good, you’re hired. Do you think I need to be filing things? It’s something I’ve never really thought about before.”
Jefferson, as he prefers to be called (“Don’t even try that Mr. Madigan nonsense, I won’t answer to it.”), is planning a circus - what Killian imagines is the venue he’s heard about for a decade and a half. And it sounds magnificent the way Jefferson describes it - something otherworldly. More an entire sensory experience than just a show, spanning dozens of tents and food stands and performers scattered across the grounds. The way he envisions it, the endeavor is more experience than anything else - simultaneously a performance space and a theater and a zoo and a venue for all kinds of edible delicacies. Perhaps carnival would be the better word, but Jefferson insists on circus.
“There’s a sense of mystery to the word, Killian,” he decrees while jotting down what is doubtless another half-baked idea on the back of a receipt. “Anyone can hold a carnival, but a circus… marvelous, magical things happen at the circus. It will look better in the papers anyways.”
(Killian will need to do so much filing to keep all this in order.)
It quickly becomes obvious that Jefferson is primarily an ideas man - and while his ideas are spectacular in so many ways, he needs assistance in bringing those ideas to life. It’s immediately obvious why he needs an assistant; for a man who spends so much of his time with his head in the clouds, lost in ideals and fanciful imagining, it’s hard to manage the practicalities of the day-to-day implementation.
There are investors of course, men who flit in and out of the planning at will as if just to make sure that their money is actually being used properly. Killian isn’t fully surprised to see his mentor is one of them; doubtless, that’s how he knew to direct Killian to Jefferson’s door in the first place. He doubts that anyone else truly remembers the man, however; Killian has long since learned to recognize the cloak of forgetability his teacher likes to draw around himself.
(There are different kinds of power, Killian has learned over the years - the kind that comes from everyone knowing what you can do, and the kind that comes from no one knowing what you can do.)
Killian learns that he is a late addition, comparatively speaking; a small collection of people have already been met on the matter, creating a small stack of roughly sketched plans that he’s sure will inevitably grow by the day. Jefferson holds a reputation, Killian has learned, for a series of elaborate late-night soirées known only as Midnight Dinners, famously exclusive events with over a dozen exotic courses and unmatched entertainments. Jefferson is a producer by trade, an entertainer in every bit of his being, and these private entertainments may be the pinnacle of his accomplishments.
(Or may have been, at least; Killian has a feeling that this circus he envisions may surpass anything else.)
The circus is born at one of these dinners - an intimate one, with only five attendees, handpicked by Jefferson as the men and women necessary to bring his vision to life. The vaguest outline was sketched that first night, tacked to the walls in the emerald green study Jefferson has set aside especially for the circus and its plans. Already, there is a stack of opened envelopes on a side table, filled with ideas the other attendees simply couldn’t hold onto until the next meeting.
They’re an interesting collection, certainly. Madame Constance Blue is a former opera singer who’s found a second career in fashion. Her eye for color and aesthetic is fabled as being unmatched - a talent she brings to this endeavor to create a cohesive environment that looks like another world on the outskirts of the city. Elsa and Anna Frost are a pair of sisters, socialites who have tried a little bit of everything, from a stint in the ballet and art school to a time as librarians they will only speak about after great persuasion. Where Madame Blue may create a visual environment for the circus, the Misses Frost are experts on the feel - all of the rest of those details from the positioning of signage to the very scents in the air, those details that so few consider but still manage to sell or doom an experience. Their little group, most meetings, is rounded out by Mr. August Booth, an architect and engineer by trade, who draws up marvelous plans for each tent and attraction. All of it embodies an elegant simplicity centered around a series of circles, one curve bleeding into another in a way that feels organic, nearly living. It makes the straight black and white stripes of the tents all the more striking in contrast to this world of elegant curves. One contributor’s work bleeds into the other, all with Jefferson at the helm to lend his ideas of what kinds of things should be presented, creating a venue that feels like a realization of all their dreams.
(The last attendee, Mr. Gold - who betrays no indication that he and Killian are even remotely acquainted - has no particular, obvious specialty that he lends to the endeavor. In fact, he barely seems to speak and is nearly forgotten in the rest of the bustle of the Circus Dinners. Somehow, though, even if no one can put their finger on what exactly Mr. Gold does, it is agreed that his contributions are essential, and that everything runs smoother and more productively at those few dinners he does attend.)
(He is always referred to by surname; though the other attendees are certain they were told his first name upon first introduction, they have no memory of what that moniker might be, and decide it would be rude to ask. )
With each dinner, the Circus fleshes out a little bit more, each piece carefully filed away so it can all fit together later. There are designs for the gates and August’s wonderful blueprints for the butterfly tents and lists of confections that must be offered. As time keeps churning forward, the members of their little dinner group increasingly start to travel, seeking out the perfect craftsmen and performers and creators to bring this endeavor to life. There are acrobats training in France and an intricate clock being crafted in Germany and Jefferson and Killian will be travelling to Scotland next week to see about a pair of big cat trainers as August travels to Austria to see about some trained horses.
But tonight, they’re all here for dinner, and there’s an unexpected guest at the door. A tall, slender woman, who claims to be a sword swallower.
“What’s the harm?” Jefferson asks when Killian informs him cautiously, sweeping his arm in a grand motion. The Circus Dinners are exclusive, and nearly sacred, but she’s here about the circus. And Jefferson has always been generous by nature. “Show her in, Jones, we’ll set another plate at the table.”
The woman introduces herself as Mulan - no second name, and no indication whether that’s her given name or surname. As the clock strikes midnight and the first plates are brought out, she climbs the low dais usually reserved for a pianist and begins her demonstration.
And it is so much more than just a sword swallowing act. Mulan moves with an almost supernatural grace, whirling her blades in an intricate and deadly dance. She tosses her swords and balances them on the tips of fingers and the ridge of her chin. And she does send the swords down her gullet, in ways that make Anna and Elsa and even composed August gasp. Each move blends one into another into another, beautiful in a savage way that leaves them all on the edge of their seats as she twirls and even flips. It mesmerizes their little audience, as delicate appetizers sit untouched on their plates.
At the conclusion of her display, Mulan resheathes her swords with a satisfying hiss of metal against metal before executing a dramatic bow, nearly bending in half in the process. Their audience erupts into applause; across from Killian, Jefferson springs to his feet in a standing ovation.
“Brilliant! Simply brilliant!” Jefferson darts up to the platform to shake Mulan’s hand vigorously, much to her apparent amusement. “We simply must have you for the circus. A platform out in the open in the crowds, right near the center, don’t you think, Elsa?”
“It certainly would be a shame to hide her away in a tent,” the blonde agrees. “I don’t think we’ll find anyone else to match her talent, either. Would you be comfortable with that? Performing to a passing crowd?” she addresses Mulan to finish.
Mulan nods solemnly, though a slight smile dances in her eyes and on her lips. “My skills are not limited by venue, you’ll find.”
“Excellent!” Jefferson crows. “You know, this is exactly what the Circus should be. More than expected. Anything but mundane. Up close and pressing past anything seen before and - oh! It’s just perfect. Welcome to the Circus, Madame.”
Jefferson’s words become a mantra as they move forward - to push boundaries, to seek people and things that are more than anyone would ever imagine.
It is what may become the making of the circus.
———
Looking back, once they come to know one another better, Killian will find it fitting that he meets Belle in a used book store.
He’s taken to wandering these stores on his rare days off with a pair of notebooks in his jacket pocket - one for little bits of magical research, and the other for chronicling any ideas he might stumble across for the Circus. Over time, Killian has discovered that odd, unusual, and even historic tomes have a way of accumulating in used bookshops, overlooked and nearly lost to time. On shelves such as these, Killian has located alchemical treatises and books of magical theory and even a potions compendium that appeared to the untrained eye to be a simple accounting of folk remedies. In a way, he supposes that’s right; it just overlooks the dash of magic that’s an extra, if necessary ingredient. These old bookstores are a good source, too, of unusual and exotic attractions and obscure ideas for confections. Whenever Killian stumbles across something he hasn’t seen before that he thinks will be of use, he records it carefully in the pertinent notebook, one tucked into each of his coat pockets, before purchasing the volume or returning it to its place on the so-often messy and cluttered shelves.
This particular day had been less than fruitful, though Killian would never call it wasted. Even if he doesn’t manage to excavate any scrap of information, the whole environment is calming - something Killian sorely needs, more often than not. He walks back to his flat at a leisurely pace, just enjoying the crisp fall day, when he suddenly realizes -
One of his pockets is lighter than it ought to be.
Quickly, Killian doubles back to the bookshop. This isn’t the first time this has happened - it’s all too easy to accidentally leave a little leather-bound notebook on a shelf in an environment full of other leather-bound books, and Killian does remember pulling out the notebook to record a particular line of a spell he’d remembered he had already recorded just as soon as his pencil had lifted off the page. A quick check of the notebook in his other pocket reveals that it is, indeed, his magic notes that are missing. It’s a mild irritant, but nothing unusual for a man with a million other things on his mind.
What is more unusual, however, is to turn the corner only to see a young woman outside the shop, paging through what appears to be his own notes with a look of marked interest on her face.
She’s pretty, Killian notes, with prim brunette curls that frame her face below a beribboned, feathered hat and a petite frame that seems dwarfed by the yellow dress beneath a neat burgundy jacket. He only spares a moment to look, however, before he intervenes for the sake of his book. If she’s half as clever as that intent crinkle in her brow suggests, it may be too late.
The young lady jerks her head to attention as Killian clears his throat, a becoming blush staining her cheeks. “I believe you have something of mine,” he comments, nodding towards the book in her hand.
“Ah, yes.” She carefully closes the pages, handing the little notebook back to him. “You’ll be Mr. Jones, then?” Killian nods an affirmative as he takes the book back - not that it stops her string of thoughts. “I do promise that I was trying to bring it back, sir - I saw you leave it down that one aisle where the cat particularly likes to sleep - but you had already left and, I see now, most likely had turned a corner and, well, I’ve already been a little curious and I just couldn’t resist flipping through the pages and —”
“Miss, it’s fine” he smiles. “I’m just relieved to have it back. That little notebook is indispensable to me.”
“I recognize some of the symbols in there,” his companion blurts out. Killian is discovering she has a tendency to do that while nervous. “Alchemical symbols, and astrological ones. Not the rest, but… well, those are all over the pages.”
“And what would you know about alchemical and astrological symbols? Seems an unusual hobby for a proper young lady, Miss…”
“Belle French. I read a lot of books.”
“Books on alchemy and astrology?”
“Yes.” She blushes again. “I came into possession of a deck of tarot cards a few years ago. It seemed worth doing my research. The alchemical bits were an accident that expanded into a separate research project.”
“You read the tarot then? I wouldn’t have expected that of a dignified lady like yourself.”
“Only for myself,” she admits. “It’s not precisely something you can practice at the average tea party. I find myself more curious what a proper young man like yourself,” she mocks his own tone, “is doing with a notebook full of such symbols.”
“Perhaps I, too, accidentally conducted extensive research into alchemy.”
Miss French fixes him with a skeptical look. “I don’t believe that for a moment. What’s the real reason?”
Killian sighs. “That’s… rather a longer story. Best settled somewhere else, if it must be told. Would you care to join me at a bistro I know?”
That should be the end of the matter. No proper young woman would agree to such a thing.
But Miss Belle French seems to be no such proper young woman, and she says yes.
It takes a hearty sip of wine once they’re settled in Killian’s favorite Parisian-style bistro for him to muster the words to speak. “I am… a student. Of sorts.”
“A student of what?” Miss French asks around her own, more delicate sip.
Now is the moment of truth, where she believes him or she doesn’t. “Of magic.”
Miss French’s brow furrows for just a confusion. “Magic? Like the illusion acts you see at the theaters?”
“A little more than that,” he tries to explain. “It’s… well. When you read your cards, does it feel like some rote interpretation? Or like you’re channeling something, the mere conduit for the cards?”
“The latter, I suppose.”
“That’s a form of magic. A very special one, actually, one that not everyone can find. I can’t.”
“So your… magic isn’t like that then?”
“It’s more like… a secret language,” Killian tries to explain. “It’s something I can find deep within me, and speak into existence.”
His lovely companion still looks unconvinced - not that he can blame her. It’s a lot to wrap one’s head around. “You don’t believe me.”
“I don’t disbelieve you,” she’s careful to say. “But you must admit, Mr. Jones, that it’s an awful lot to take in.”
Killian thinks for a moment, before settling in his mind on a way to prove it. “Is there anywhere you’ve ever wanted to go? Someplace you’ve never seen, but always wanted to?”
“I’ve always wanted to visit the beach, and see the ocean,” she replies wistfully.
“I can make that happen.”
“With your magic, I suppose?”
“Yes. Do you trust me?”
Miss French hesitates for just a moment before nodding.
“Then take my hands, and close your eyes.”
With her soft hands in his own, Killian draws upon the words, murmuring them into the back corner of the cafe where they sit. Slowly, the dim lighting and faint smell of smoke dissipates, replaced by warm sunlight and the faint rush of the tide coming in.
Miss French opens her eyes without his asking, gasping as she takes in the illusion of an environment he’s created. Gulls circle overhead; were she to remove her shoes, she’d feel soft sand beneath her toes, stretching as far as the eye can see.
“It’s marvelous,” she breathes. “And you did all this?”
“Aye. And I can do much more.”
It’s evident that in this moment, at least, she doesn’t care about much more; she’s too enthralled with the ocean in front of her.
“You know, Mr. Jones, I think we were meant to meet today,” she murmurs. “And I don’t even need the cards to say it.”
She becomes a friend, over time, over cups of tea and discussions of his studies and her practice with her tarot cards; the first real friend he’s ever had. Mr. Gold doesn’t approve, claiming that she’s a distraction, but Killian doesn’t much care. She makes his life better, in those hours he isn’t called away by the circus. And as the planning rolls on, turning into reality, she lends a listening ear every step of the way.
Neither of them can predict how much will change with the hiring of the illusionist.
———
It’s been years of this - the constant preparing for something she doesn’t fully understand, of being tested, being pushed to what Emma believes are her very limits before discovering that she still has more to give, to bleed, to learn. A sense of anticipation hangs over her entire life, such as it is, and she doesn’t even know what she’s waiting for, or how long it will take to get here. Regina has told her time and again to be patient, that things will become clearer in time, that this isn’t something frivolous, you foolish girl, you can’t rush it, but Emma has never been one for patience. She is 24, and it has been 18 years, and there is still no sign of whatever this competition is, or will be.
Until one day, a neat envelope appears on the dressing table in Emma’s room in the ostentatious flat she has shared with Regina since the very beginning whenever they’re in London.
It would be in your best interest to present yourself at the below address on June the 19th.
The missive isn’t signed, but Emma doesn’t need a signature anyways; it’s evident in the neat gilt letters on the crisp cream-colored parchment that this message is from the man with the cane. Mr. Gold, half a memory whispers, though he’s done his very best to remove himself from memory. There is no postmark, and no messenger; it is clear to Emma that this card has appeared without the intervention of a human hand. Not that the man she suspects would need such mundane means to deliver a message. Emma has grown up surrounded by and steeped in magic, and she has long since learned to recognize true power - and even though she was only a child the single time she met the man with the gold-tipped cane, she’d felt even then the magic clustered all around him like metal filings to a magnet. To a man like that, delivery of this message would be the easiest thing in the world.
There’s a newspaper clipping too, Emma realizes as she slowly moves to find and show her teacher. It’s an advertisement, seeking an illusionist, with the address of a modest theater at which she should apply.
Seeking an extraordinary individual to marvel and amaze, the cramped newsprint proclaims. An unmatched opportunity to become part of an unprecedented entertainment spectacle.
“What have you got there?” Regina asks when Emma enters their parlor, examining every inch of the message and its attached advertisement. The words are closer to a demand than an inquiry, but Emma isn’t particularly surprised; these kinds of interactions have always been her teacher’s modus operandi.
“A note. I found it on my dressing table.” Carefully, Emma passes the documents to Regina for the other woman’s examination. As Regina reads the words, a devious kind of smile inches its way across her face.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” she asks Emma with that same odd smile. It only widens when Emma shakes her head in the negative. “It means we’ve reached the beginning.”
And with those six words, the next phase of Emma’s life begins.
———
Killian thought he knew what to expect - but he never expected her.
They’d placed advertisements in all the major papers, seeking an illusionist for the circus - a magician. Jefferson, for all his endless inspiration and imagination, has never realized that the most fitting candidate for this particular job has been silently at his side for the past two years, through every bit of planning. Jefferson never realizes that there’s a reason that this has all come together unnaturally smoothly, as if aided by unseen forces.
Jefferson, for all his endless imagination, will never believe that humans are capable of anything more than illusion, will never believe that true magic is possible.
(That’s for the best, really; Mr. Gold just needs a pawn to create a venue, and Killian… well, Killian just wants, nay, needs to limit the collateral lives disrupted for the purposes of this competition.)
Attending the auditions as Jefferson’s personal secretary to record any decisions ultimately made, Killian expects a long parade of conmen, of charlatans and fakers and all the normal cast of characters that pass for magicians in a world that refuses to see the truth. And he gets them in spades, with card tricks and pretty assistants and poorly behaved rabbits who are more interested in exploring the legs of the mezzanine chairs than disappearing into hats. Maybe those kinds of displays would be good enough for most undertakings; the public will be expecting the normal sort of “magic” displays, after all.
But this is for the circus - and the circus must be more than that.
(It’s for exactly that reason that Killian draws a tricky bit of magic about himself that he picked up from his mentor years ago - a charm to smother any traces of magic about him, to make him seem so ordinary that strangers’ eyes don’t bother to linger. He may expect a long line of fakes, but on the off chance this attracts someone of more genuine talent… Killian isn’t taking any chances.)
Killian never even sees her coming. It’s their last appointment of the day after a chain of disappointments, and frankly, he’s ready for a cup of tea, or perhaps a glass of something stronger. But then the young man who works at the theater is clearing his throat to announce the next applicant, and Killian looks up —
And it’s her.
The woman before him is beautiful - collected, quiet, but with a confidence that shows in her bearing, in the straightness of her spine and the sure look on her face. She wears an emerald green dress with a black velvet jacket with trailing sleeves, and she looks a picture - possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. She looks more suited to fashionable tea rooms, or strolling along the street to perhaps visit an acquaintance, or any of those other ordinary things women of means and unnatural beauty do with their days. It’s obvious, though, that ordinary is the last word that could be used to describe her. Even from across the room, he can sense the magic that clings to her skin like traces of ink - true magic, not the facsimiles he’s suffered through all day.
He knows immediately that this woman - whoever she may be - is the opponent he’s been anticipating for 18 years, since he was only 8 years old, and the knowledge simultaneously exhilarates and terrifies him.
(Even if he’s been working for two years to help bring this competition, this circus to life, it suddenly feels real to see his competitor across from him, flesh and blood and blond curls.)
(He has no business forming an attachment, but she already fascinates him on a level far more personal than professional.)
“Your name?” Killian hears Jefferson ask, as if from a distance. That’s not the reality of this situation, really; his employer sits in the seat right in front of Killian’s own, barely two feet apart. It’s hard to focus on anything else, though, with an angel standing in front of them all.
“Emma Swan,” she answers. Her voice isn’t loud, but it’s sure, and with its own particular melody. “I understand you’re looking for an illusionist.”
“We are indeed, Miss Swan. And do you believe you’re the man - my pardon, woman for the job?” Jefferson wears what Killian has learned is his most charming smile, and Killian feels an unwarranted flash of irritation. Can’t he see this creature isn’t for him? Isn’t some simpering young girl to melt at his attentions?
(It’s a relief to see that, while Miss Swan does smile back, it’s only a smirk of seeming amusement. She’s here for other things, they both know, even if Jefferson doesn’t.)
“That’s for your judgement, isn’t it?” As Emma poses the question, she carefully strips out of her jacket, only to toss it carelessly towards a chair. As the fabric sails through the air, however, it miraculously turns into a raven, circling the room before landing back in one of the investors’ laps, abruptly a stack of folded velvet once more. Miss Swan may make it look easy, nearly thoughtless, but it’s evident to Killian that she’s performed a very impressive piece of magic - and evident to all those less observant as well. The amused little smirk returns as Miss Swan calmly folds her hands atop the green satin of her dress. “But I believe so, yes.”
What follows is exactly the impressive spectacle of magic they’d hoped to find, but Killian never believed they would.
The gentlemen’s handkerchiefs turn into doves, which fly to perch at the edge of the stage. The delicate flowers of the wallpaper peel from the walls to beautiful, fragrant life. At one point, their chairs all lift to hover a foot above the ground. One trick flows into the next, and into the next again, all conducted by the extraordinary Miss Swan with graceful hands and barely any appearance of effort. It feels like the entire audience, small though it might be, holds its breath as the magician completes her display, conjuring her crisply folded jacket back into a raven. In a flurry of feathers, the bird dives towards its mistress as the audience watches anxiously, only to reappear as a drapery once again on the pale, delicate arms of the enchanting Miss Swan.
Ahead of Killian, Jefferson and the other producers explode into a flurry of applause - a well earned ovation, in his not-so-humble opinion. That was… spectacular. Amazing. Magical.
“Bravo, Miss Swan!” Jefferson calls, jumping nimbly up the stairs at the front of the stage to shake her hand. “I think you’re just the thing we’ve been looking for. Won’t she look lovely, Constance?”
“She’ll make a statement, certainly,” Madame Blue replies. This might be the closest Killian has seen the formidable woman to satisfaction. “We’ll have to plan the wardrobe carefully, of course. Something… striking. A bit out of the ordinary, with outer layers to remove. That trick with the jacket was extraordinary,” she finally addresses the subject of their discussion. “I imagine you’ll want to incorporate it.”
“I had planned to in some form, yes,” Miss Swan confirms. “Is there a particular… concern you have about my clothing?”
“Please don’t mistake us, Miss Swan,” Jefferson hurries to assure her. “You look absolutely lovely. We’re trying to create an entire atmosphere in this endeavor, you see. An entire circus, all in black and white and silver. Including its members. Madame Blue, here, is an invaluable help in creating that.”
“I see,” Miss Swan nods. “So I suppose you’re thinking something more like this?”
As she speaks, they’re treated to one final trick, as the green of her skirts flees at the touch of a finger, changing to pearly skirts that slowly give way to an ink black hem. As with every display of her magic, it’s graceful, effortless; more than that, as her dress completes its transformation, skirts widening to a dramatic sweep in the process, she looks like the very essence of everything they want the circus to be.
Killian gapes. Madame Blue nods approvingly. Jefferson beams.
“Splendid! Oh, absolutely marvelous. Never tell me how you do that. Yes, that will do very nicely indeed, Miss Swan. You’re hired.”
As if anyone else would ever do.
———
Killian shows up at Liam’s door that night, to the small but comfortable apartment a junior banker shouldn’t yet be able to afford on his salary.
(He’s always been sure to care for his brother, the same way his brother always cared for him.)
He must look a wreck when Liam opens the door, as his brother moves to pour them both a measure of rum without even being asked. His neat necktie has been loosened in the past hour and his hair is doubtless a riot from running his hand up the back, but Killian thinks it’s more whatever look he wears on his face that spurs Liam into action.
“I met them today. Her,” Killian finally confides once they’re both settled into the plush, if hideous armchairs in front of the fire.
“Who’s this, now?”
“My competitor.” Killian attempts a chuckle, but can’t quite manage it. “This game I’ve been prepared for for so long… the other person was always just some amorphous concept. Of course there’d be a competitor, it’s a game. But… I met her today, Liam.”
Liam takes another sip from his tumbler. “I take it that’s a bad thing?”
Killian fiddles with the scar on his thumb as he thinks, the seared band of skin the contract tying him to this competition. It doesn’t bother him, never has, really; most days, he wears a silver ring to conceal the mark from the many curious eyes in Jefferson’s winding townhome, but he’s taken the piece of jewelry off tonight. Tonight is a night for confession, for laying his myriad of confused feelings on the table, not for concealment.
“I don’t know that it’s bad, per se,” he finally replies. “It’s just… she was never a person until today. I know I’ve been working with Jefferson and his colleagues for two years to bring the venue for this competition to life, but meeting a real, live person is something else. It made it real, in a way.”
“And you’d rather it wasn’t,” Liam infers.
Killian says nothing, ready to neither confirm nor deny that. It’s been an unexpected day, and he’s still trying to process the novelty of having a name and a face. This has been years of his life - 18 years of them - and it finally feels like the waiting is done.
Liam tries again. “What’s she like, then?”
“Composed.” It’s too stiff a word for the vibrant creature he witnessed today, but it’s the first that comes to mind. She’d seemed perfectly composed, fully in control of everything around her. There’s more than that, though. “She was confident, mostly, in that kind of understated way where you could tell she knew exactly what she was doing without ever having to brag about it. She seemed bloody brilliant, honestly,” Killian admits.
“That sounds like an awful lot of admiration for a woman you’re supposed to view as your foe,” Liam comments with that lift of the brow Killian adopted himself years and years ago.
“She’s beautiful,” Killian says simply. “She’s perfectly lovely, and honestly? I don’t really want to battle her.”
“So what will you do?”
“I don’t know,” Killian replies truthfully.
He never expected this knowledge to create more questions than answers.
(Killian is beginning to think that just may be the way of this competition; frustration and confusion at every turn.)
(As his mentor has so often says: magic comes with a price.)
———
Now that he knows his competition, it becomes obvious that Miss Swan has an advantage over Killian: while he may exist outside the Circus, maneuvering the board from afar, she’ll live right in the heart of it, manipulating things from within. After all these years, Killian still only knows that the Circus is meant to be a venue for him to test and stretch his abilities beyond anything he ever imagined until, inexplicably, one of them is crowned the winner. From his standpoint, Miss Swan will find that much easier, as she doesn’t have a distance to reckon with. Hell, he won’t even know when she makes a move, so to speak.
Unexpectedly, it is Belle who finds a solution to that.
“I could be your spy, you know,” she proposes. They’ve long since abandoned formal last names and proper tea shops for lounging in his flat, her with a book and he with one of his notebooks or some circus plans he’s perfecting. So, too, has Belle long since been apprised of all the misty particulars of this competition.
Killian frowns. “I don’t follow.”
“Well, you need a way to hear the news of the circus, right? Everything this Miss Swan does, at least in regards to the Circus. All the little changes she might make.”
“That’s right.”
“And it’s true, too, that the Circus still needs a fortune teller.”
Realization slowly dawns. “Belle, I couldn’t ask you to —”
“You’re not asking; I’m offering,” she interrupts. “I can read my cards for visitors. You’ll be so busy with the Circus, anyways, and making your own moves in this competition, that we’ll barely see each other anymore. You can arrange that, right? To hire me as the fortune teller?”
“Of course - but Belle, are you certain?”
“Nothing is ever certain, Killian,” she scolds affectionately, good-naturedly. “But I want to help. And besides, I’ve always wanted to see the world. What better opportunity will I find, or make?”
When Killian personally vouches for Belle to Jefferson, her hiring is arranged as quickly as promised. He can’t help but feel like this is a mistake, somehow, but the benefits are undeniable. Belle packs her bags and promises to be a faithful correspondent - a promise he knows she’ll admirably fulfill.
(He tries not to think about how she’s one more life he’s tied to the Circus, one more article of collateral damage if and when this all ends.)
———
After so long in her contained world, constantly under Regina’s critical eye, Emma finds she loves the communal atmosphere of the circus. Emma’s little compartment is so much more compact than the rooms she’s grown used to over the years, but there’s a particular coziness that feels more comfortable than anything she’s known before. Maybe it’s the knowledge that this space is truly hers, without monitoring or judgement. She lines the walls with spell books and herbal manuals and silly novels, hangs cages for her doves from the ceiling, shoves a small desk in one corner and a well padded armchair in the other, and spreads a brightly pieced quilt over the bunk’s mattress. She makes it home, in a way she’d never thought she’d achieve.
(She’s wanted a home since she was a child, went with Regina in partial hope that she’d find one, but it’s only now at the age of 24 that she’s made it with her own two hands and a good bit of magic.)
She watches the circus come together too, in staging grounds just outside of London. Each tent is carefully constructed in black and white stripes, though their height and circumference vary. The acrobats’ tents soar the highest, starting to fade into the starry skies to accommodate the trapezes and tightropes beneath the cloth surface. On the other end of the spectrum the fortune teller’s tent is barely large enough for two people and a table.
Emma’s tent is somewhere in between. It’s not large, by any means, but there’s enough space for a clearing at the center and two rows of chairs circling all the way around the edges. It’s interactive, in a way Emma never imagined a theater could be when she was a child under Regina’s care. Then again, it’s not really a theater, is it? It’s more a… space. An arena. Truthfully, Emma isn’t sure there’s a word for the intimate feel of this arrangement. Her audience will be right there, enhancing the display in a way Emma hadn’t imagined. Then again, when you’re practicing true magic instead of illusion, you don’t need that extra separation.
Once it’s time to eventually move on, the whole venue has been carefully constructed to fold and stow away into a series of boxcars and containers for transport. It’s all a little unbelievable, really, the ease with which something so sprawling can stow so neatly away. There’s an atmosphere at the circus, however, even amongst its members, that anything might happen, and the logistics are never questioned as the specially hired crew of workers scurry about, practicing folding and unfolding each tent into their respective boxcars. Maybe they already know that something supernatural is at work; the longer Emma spends at the circus, the more she wonders if this is the one place on Earth where magic can exist in plain sight without question.
(There’s something about the traces of magic at the folds and joints of each structure that feels familiar in a way Emma can’t quite put her finger on - like she’s encountered it before. It’s a rare trace of her competitor in an environment where she still doesn’t know their identity.)
If the circus is the first real home Emma’s ever found, then its members may be her first real family. She’s always felt… different, all too aware of how her abilities have set her apart from other people since she was a little girl. The wonderful thing that she’s discovered is that everyone is a little odd at the circus, even without magic. There are contortionists and animal tamers and acrobats and all manner of other performers, all good people who don’t fit within the bounds of conventional society. Even the vendors, the souvenir sellers and the concession dealers, are the kind of people more willing to believe in the unusual without question. It’s a welcoming, accepting, happy environment that Emma revels in.
There are individuals that Emma makes particular friends with. Ruby, who, along with her husband Graham, works with wolves , is an absolute spitfire who keeps them all entertained with her wit and predictions for the circus. Mary Margaret, who performs tricks with a flock of trained birds, and her husband David, one of the stagehands, are as sweet a couple as Emma’s ever seen and determined to spread that love to everyone else around them as well. It feels a little like they’ve adopted her as an adult child, set upon caring for her in any way they can, and Emma finds she kind of likes it.
(There’s the fortune teller, too - Belle, a kind and quiet woman that Emma is friendly with, if not close. Somehow, Emma gets the feeling that Belle knows more about this whole thing than anyone else, but can’t put her finger on why. She’d know if the petite little brunette was her opponent, she’s sure; surely she’d sense her opponent’s own magic, the way she can always see the way her own gathers like dozens of little stray hairs about her person.)
There’s a feeling of comradery amongst the group of them, of family. They’re a stability that Emma craves in the midst of all this uncertainty, a support system even if she can’t reveal the stakes she’s facing. As simple a word as it is, they’re friends, and that’s a thing that’s been sorely lacking Emma’s entire life.
Mulan, however, is a different story. It’s not that they’re not friends - Emma would say that they’re consistently friendly. Emma had immediately noticed the way magic had clung to the other woman in the same way that it does to herself. Here, Mulan may be a sword swallower, but she’s undeniably a powerful magician too.
“This isn’t the first time that such a competition has been staged,” Mulan tells her over tea as her spoon stirs in sugar without apparent human hand, a thread of magic spooling and unspooling about the metal over and over again.
“So how do I win, then?” If Mulan has been in her shoes before - and indeed, the other woman’s particular brand of magic suggests she trained under Emma’s own mentor, Regina - then this could be a critical advantage for Emma.
But Mulan shakes her head. “That’s something you have to discover in your own time. I’m here merely as… an observer. Support, perhaps. But not to interfere.”
(Even as she says the words, Emma can see a sadness in Mulan’s eyes that sends a stab of foreboding through Emma’s heart.)
There’s an entire universe of possibilities contained within the wrought iron gates, different ways this all could play out. Emma feels within her heart that even if the circus hasn’t opened, the competition has already begun; after all, she’s already tied her own magic to its construction, the way it expands and contracts and travels, lending her own abilities to those enchantments someone else already set.
There will be a chance to test that tomorrow, as all of this is folded up and moved to where the circus will celebrate its opening night in barely 72 hours’ time. It’s a delicate business, but will be worth it when the effect is finally unveiled - or at least Emma hopes it will be. It’s hard to imagine anyone not loving the circus, in all its wonder, just as much as they do, but dozens of lives are tied to the circus - now dozens of homes and salaries and futures. It’s hard not to feel a little nervous about all that is to come, for their sakes if not her own.
Above the ticketing booths at the front gates of the circus sits an enormous cuckoo clock, with figures and designs constantly shifting, changing from black to white and back again. Emma likes to come and watch the clock in the moments she takes for herself; there’s something about the simple, elegant mechanics that calms her, shows her the beauty that can exist without magic. Her entire world will change once again once the circus opens its gates for the first time, but the clock is a reminder that change is more than inevitable - it is natural, and sometimes even good.
As the clock ticks the minutes away overhead, Emma closes her eyes and centers herself. All around her, she can feel the energies of all the people who bring the circus to life - happy and excited and good, in a way she hadn’t known existed. All these lives in her hands, caught up in this competition without even knowing it.
And Emma will do her damndest to protect every one.
———
There’s a party, the night before the circus opens its gates for the first time, at the lavish townhouse of the circus’ proprietor. It’s perfectly in keeping with what Emma knows of the man; Jefferson - as he insists on being called, damn the proprieties - is generous by nature, despite (or perhaps because of) his eccentricities. Where anyone else would balk at the collected mass of the Circus’ players and crew showing up on their doorstep and traipsing through their halls, Jefferson welcomes them with open arms, seeming to delight in the chaos they might bring with them.
At the Circus, they might be clad in black and white and every shade in between, but Jefferson’s halls are a riot of color tonight - and not just due to his bold decorating preferences. The circus members have truly let loose for the occasion, in a wide array of colors and patterns - green stripes and purple layered on blue and polka-dotted waistcoats, all melding together into a unique symphony of hues never seen before or since. Emma herself wears a red gown that makes her feel like a princess, with long sleeves and a scooped neckline and beading along the bust. Technically, the dress has looked far different when she started with it - a dark navy blue and rather more demure than this end result, though the cloth itself was of good quality - but she’s always had a deft hand with fabrics. It comes in handy in her small train car room, where she really only has room for a single trunk unless she gets magically creative with her storage space.
The party is, by all appearances, a roaring success. Dinner features the widest variety of options imaginable, featuring dishes seemingly from every corner of the globe. There are fountains of chocolate and tiny little bites of meat and vegetables and the most delicate pastries Emma has ever eaten in her life. After dinner, there’s music and dancing and gaming tables in the parlor. The hired band keeps playing a series of merry dance numbers, reels and jigs and the occasional waltz. It’s joyful, happiness permeating every inch of Jefferson’s brightly colored mansion that makes the whole place shine in a way that has nothing to do with any candles or oil lamps.
Personally, Emma is happier along the edges of rooms, observing everything else that goes on around her. It’s not that she’s somehow opposed to the festivities; far from it, at fact. She easily allows herself to be talked into taking turns on the dance floor with David and Ruby even a delighted Jefferson when they ask her with a smile and, in Ruby’s case, a rather insistent and intoxicated tug towards the dance floor. She knows the steps; she knows the rules. But it is hard, sometimes, after a childhood spent largely alone, to throw herself willingly into the heart of it all. It’s intimidating, in a way. At the heart of things, it’s less overwhelming to observe, a wallflower by choice.
From her own vantage point, however, it’s impossible not to notice another soul doing the same thing - sticking to the walls and to the shadows, absorbing everything while engaging with none of it. The person in question is a man - strikingly handsome, with dark hair and sharp cheekbones that make him look a little dangerous. He’s the kind of man who should have no problem finding a dance partner, if he so desired, but he waits along the edges, the same as her. What’s even more curious is that Emma has no idea who he is. Emma isn’t fool enough to claim that she’s intimate friends with each and every person in the Circus - there’s far too many for that - but she does recognize them by sight, at least. It’s an inevitable result of living and working with people in such a tight-knit environment as the Circus. This man isn’t one of them. Curiously, she still has the feeling that he’s familiar, somehow. She can’t quite put a finger on why; it’s like a whisper in her ear, that she knows him in a way she doesn’t yet understand.
(She sees him looking, too, when he thinks she hasn’t noticed. Maybe he feels this curious deja vu as well.)
At one point, she notices Mulan speaking briefly with the mystery man - nothing more than a few words, but enough to catch her attention.
“Who is that?” Emma asks the next time Mulan passes her by, dressed in regalia that looks more like armor than a dress. It suits her, in a way something more traditional wouldn’t have. “That man in the corner?”
“By that particularly ugly bronze bust?” Emma nods. “That’s Jefferson’s personal secretary. Killian Jones. I’m surprised you haven’t met him before - he follows Jefferson everywhere, records everything. Jefferson won’t on his own.”
Maybe that’s where Emma recognizes him from; it would make sense that he’d have been at her audition, just another face in the crowd. That must account for this odd sense of familiarity.
Mulan waits patiently as Emma turns the information over in her head, as if waiting for her to ask another question. For the life of her, she can’t imagine what that might be.
“I didn’t know that,” she finally replies. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Mulan nods. “Try and have a little fun tonight. It’s not like we’ll have another chance for this for a long while.”
“I promise I am. Even without the dancing.”
“Good.”
(There’s a little tickle at the back of her neck that says Mulan isn’t sharing the whole story, but Emma doesn’t pry further. The other woman plays her cards very close to her proverbial vest; she won’t reveal anything except exactly what she deems it necessary for Emma to know.)
As Mulan slides silently back into the crush, Emma steals another glance at the corner, but the man - Killian Jones - is gone.
Not that it matters to her. After all, they’ll likely never meet again.
(It is easy to ignore the little voice that whispers Oh, but you will.)
———
The circus opens on a warm June night under a new moon, and it feels like anything might happen. The tents are all set, the costumes sewn, the performers placed along each neatly lined path. All that’s missing is the audience.
At the very center of the circus is an ornately crafted fire pit, with shoots of burnished metal curling towards the sky in imitation of the flame contained within. Over time, the heat of the fire will heat and scar the metal in its own unique way, creating an ever changing statue. Tonight, in recognition of the circus’ opening night, the bonfire will be lit for the first time at precisely midnight in a ceremony for all to see.
Tucked into the grate beneath the fire pit, carefully warded against the flame with a series of runes, is a leather-bound book that no one but Killian knows about. The volume is the circus, in a way that he’s proud to have accomplished. Between the covers are pages and pages of plans for each and every tent, ride, and attraction, with magic carved into every line. This is the way that the circus is brought to life - the way it’s assembled and disassembled, the way it operates, the way it exists. At the back is a list of everyone employed by the circus, from Mrs. Lucas who runs the dining car of the train to the day-old twins of one of their vendors, a craftsman and his wife who sell intricate animals carved out of wood so delicately and with such life that they look as if they might begin to cavort across your palm. Each name is accompanied by a single drop of their blood - something so simple, but powerful. It binds them to the circus, protects them; it’s a safeguard, in case something should ever happen.
(Killian hates to think that there might be collateral damage in all this, but it seems inevitable. Mr. Gold and Madame Mills aren’t the types to worry about the chaos they create, as long as they get what they want. This will protect the circus and all the many lives that depend upon it.)
Most significantly, Killian creates a tricky little bit of magic to link the volume under the bonfire, right in the heart of the circus, to another in his own possession. It’s still unclear, in so many ways, exactly what this so-called competition will entail, let alone how long it will last. It seems inevitable that in order for the competition to move forward, additions and changes will need to be made, ways to demonstrate each of their respective powers. A second volume, directly mirroring the first, will allow him to add attractions as the opportunity arises.
Killian feels somehow in-between as he wanders the grounds of the circus - not one of the performers, but not quite a normal visitor ever. He’s done more to bring this to life than anyone present knows, but it doesn’t feel like a part of him in a way he might have expected. He strolls the paths, cloaked in spells that turn everyone’s attention away from his person so he can place the tome without questioning. That’s fitting, he thinks; he’s not part of the circus in any visual way, now or previously, yet he’s made more of a mark than they’ll ever know. He’s shaped this entire spectacle from the shadows, and his work is only beginning.
It feels like something settles into place as Killian slides the book into its nook. It’s like the whole circus was just waiting for that final piece, as if a breath has been released and this can all finally begin. Something cements in that moment; some piece of ancient magic more powerful than any rune. All that’s left to do is activate that magic with the lighting of the bonfire.
(There are already firecrackers in place to set off with each tick of the clock leading to midnight, but Killian can sense the traces of someone else’s magic lingering on each charge. It seems Miss Swan has left her mark on the fire in her own way, one that will make this a night to remember for all involved. Their work has long since begun, but they both usher in a new phase with their own mark.)
Killian stays to watch the lighting of the bonfire, still cloaked in the shadows even amongst the crowds of life around him. At a few minutes to midnight, they all assemble around the pit - every performer, every visitor, every vendor. Each and every soul. It’s easy to pick out the audience from the circus members; true to their vision, those who are part of the circus are clad in black and white and silver, alternately blending into the night and reflecting like the brightest stars. They stand stark against everyone else and the usual medley of colors, like elegant wraiths.
Killian spots, too, Jefferson across the way, and the Frost sisters, and Madame Blue and Mr. Booth, all here to mark the occasion. They’ve participated in the dress code as well, Killian is amused to see - Jefferson in a white suit decked with tiny black stars, and the ladies in varying shades of white and silver and grey. Mr. Booth’s black suit may just be his usual wear, but the silver necktie adds a certain celebratory vibe. Killian’s lips twitch in a smile to see their little group, looking with varying levels of satisfaction (or outright bouncing glee, in Jefferson’s case) on the experience they dreamed and brought to life. It’s not necessary, really, that Killian disguise himself anymore; as Jefferson’s personal secretary, it would seem natural for him to be here to witness this. Killian has ulterior motives for maintaining the cloak, however - namely, watching his opponent, the lovely Miss Swan.
He’s a little enthralled by her, he’ll admit. Miss Emma Swan is… not what he expected in a competitor. If pressed, Killian will admit that he expected his opposing counterpart to be someone rather like himself - some young man around his age, similarly focused, similarly discreet. Miss Swan - besides being, most obviously, a young woman instead of a young man - wields her magic with an open confidence that he hadn’t expected, at least if her audition and the few times they’ve crossed paths since on circus business are any indication. Then again, it’s not like there’s as much need to hide her magic as Killian always believed; to the public, magic isn’t real after all, and she’s just a circus illusionist.
(She’s a born performer, is what she is, and Killian looks forward to surreptitiously attending one of her shows tonight to relive the particular thrill of watching Miss Swan in action.)
(As much as Killian tells himself they’re different, there’s something in her eyes that says that’s not quite true - the look of someone who’s been left alone for too long. Maybe they are cut from the same cloth, after all. Not that it matters in situations such as these.)
Ten seconds before midnight, the firecrackers begin setting off in bright bursts of color and pattern, causing an audible gasp of awe from the assembled audience. There are swirls of blue, shoots of red, bursts of gold, all perfectly timed to the second hand of his watch. It’s the purest expression of magic made real, and even though Killian knows to watch for the way Miss Swan’s fingers twist at her side to release each round, it still leaves him in a little bit of awe and wonder. It’s displays like these that first enthralled him to the idea of magic, all those years ago when he was still just a boy; it’s nice to reclaim that even just for a moment.
At the crescendo, a previously unnoticed archer - a trick-shot they’d hired, who can hit the smallest targets from the greatest distance - releases a single flaming arrow. It lands dead center in the bonfire pit, just above where Killian alone knows the volume containing the circus rests, and ignites it in a chasing line of flame. It roars to beautiful life, illuminating the beautiful joy and wonder on each and every face.
And just like that - the circus is alive.
———
The circus is a wonder, unmatched by any other.
There’s something otherworldly about it, you think as you take in the sights. There’s a stark elegance and mysticism about the venue and all its players that feels unnatural, in the best way - as if you’ve stumbled out of the real world and into a fairy court, where the very air is laced with magic and anything might happen.
Each tent is somehow better than the last, and you wander without real purpose between each, trusting fate and your heart to lead the way. Even the winding paths, paved in silvery grey pebbles, hold their own surprises, twisting and curving past all manner of performers on pedestals in the night air. There are contortionists in silver and jugglers with patterned balls and clubs, fire swallowers and concession vendors who smile at you and living statues who move so gradually as to be barely discernible to the naked eye.
It is more than an attraction, you realize as the first rays of light peak over the horizon, illuminating the intricate metalwork of the front gate clock; it’s an experience, a wonder, something that sinks into your very soul and changes you in ways you’re not yet equipped to describe.
The circus lingers in your mind and heart, and you will never be the same again.
#captain swan#cs ff#captain swan ff#cssns#A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink#my writing#magicians!cs#The Night Circus
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Request List:
Requests are closed.
Before you request: Please check this list to see if I have something similar. Please let me know if you’ve sent the request to other authors (I’ll still most likely do it), and try to be as detailed as you can. “I want Spencer Reid to bang Reader” isn’t super duper helpful to motivate my writing goblin.
I try to get these out as quickly as possible, but I’m only a human enslaved to the goblins in my brain.
Current Requests:
1. * I finished cm season 14 so I got an idea: In e15s14 jj confesses her love for spencer but he is already in a relationship with reader (is also in BAU) and after the hostage thing Spencer and reader goes to Spencer’s and he tells her everything and reader gets sad and cries and it’s sad and they both start crying and it’s night and rainy and then they make love. I hope it makes sense. Would love it to be long with details and a lot of feelings 2. I was hoping you could write a request: “Being weird together in museums is a love language” and maybe it’s just fluffy but it could definitely have smut too. I love your writing, and i hope you have a really good day!
3. hiya! can I request I fic with Spencer x girl reader where she has an English accent and he really loves it! make it fluffy, smutty or whatever you want!! I trust you incredible writing skills :)) thank you!!! :)
4. spencer reid x reader where she is a switch and thinks that spencer is a sub. one day jj and emily are trying to convince him to cut his hair and she whispers to him that she likes his long hair because then she can pull on it while he goes down on her and boss him around and he answer with something like ‘you wont be the only one bossing around’ and some smut after,please?? thank you 💙 5. I have a request if you’re open to it! Could you write a maybe angsty fluff piece about a plus size reader and Spencer? Maybe wanting to move forward in a relationship but reader is nervous and self conscious and it starts an argument because he just wants her to stop talking negatively about herself and ends with some beautiful lovey smut? ❣️
6. So I was wondering if you’d be willing to write a Spencer Reid x Reader where she previously worked at the BAU and they dated but broke later broke up and run into each other year’s later and past feelings resurface and they decide to go give it another go? Maybe smut ensues at the end? You don’t have to but it’s just an idea because you write so well! Thank you!
7. I dunno if you like hotchreid, but picture this. Reid blowing hotch with his glasses on and when hotch cums he gets it on reids glasses. I dunno why but the thought of that is just so hot to me // Okay okay, counter idea, reader sits on reids face while he eats her out and his glasses get all messy
8. Not requesting but just planting this little idea in your head imagine dating Spencer and having a sweet moment where he is braiding your hair into to pigtails for you and when he’s done the very sweet moment turns very kinky.
9. Hi beautiful, (SPOILER FOR SEASON 8) I was wondering if you could write a Platonic! BAU (Mostly spencer reid) x reader where the reader is poisoned just like Erin Strauss, but while Erin does die, the reader makes it and everyone is super worried? I love your work and would love to see what you’d do with that request! Stay safe!
10. Hey bb can i make a request? Havent sent this to anyone else. Spencer meeting a jazz musician (preferably a bass play bc i play bass lmao) in New Orleans when he meets up with Ethan? Ethan and reader like play at the same club together and he introduces them? Smut? Fluff? I love your writing and I think you would do a GREAT job executing this!
11. Okay, I know your requests are closed but I just wanted to stop by and say if you’re ever in an angsty mood and need some inspiration- I just listened to a song called “sweater” but Spencer Sutherland and all I could think of is a fic about it with Spencer 😂 quite literally the lyrics are “that’s my sweater, why the fuck you got it on? We’re not together, should have left that shit at home” 😂 I’m just sayin lol
12. I have a request if you’re open to it! I keep having this reoccurring daydream where reader is a music therapist and dating Spencer and helps the team with a case where a child won’t talk and he’s just in awe of watching reader get the kid to open up and it’s just fluffy and sweet!
13. hi! i love your work!! i was wondering if you could write a kind of goofy smut? i’m imagining something along the lines of spencer and reader having been friends for a really long and being super comfortable and silly around eachother but that they’ve also kinda been in love with each other for a long time? when they tell eachother it’s not a big deal and they have sex but it’s really cute? if that makes sense
14. “sleepy girsl are so cute. When they mumble, their voices low and quiet? Adorable? Those big yaws and biiiiiig stretches? So cute! Resting their head on your shoulder and giving you that lazy smile before they drift off again? Oh my godddddd!!!!”
15. omg obviously u have like a million fics on the go cos ur amazing but if u added a praise kink fic to the list let’s just say i wouldn’t complain 😉😘ok but spencer being insecure about his body maybe after everyone’s complimenting derek or something and not wanting u to take his shirt off, and u just absolutely showering him in compliments and telling him all the ways he turns u on and loving on every millimetre of his body and sending him all subby ANYWAY (this is a rant but like also a request if u fancy)
- General Hotch ideas: Sub Hotch, Brat Tamer Hotch, Dom men in lingerie, Spencer calling Reader “daddy,” more about sub drop.
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The Melanie King Conspiracy
Pairings: wtgfs (mentioned/background)
Warnings: Blinding yourself (mentioned)
Spoilers up to the end of Season 4
Masterlist Ao3
This is my first fic for the tma fandom and first time writing in this style please cut me some slack. All spelling and grammatical errors (or most of them anyway) are on purpose to mimic a real group chat. Let’s hope I haven’t messed up the timeline to horribly :)
June 13, 2017
whathappenedtomelanieking: guys guys guys. you know how i was talking about that show Ghost Hunt U.K?
ijustworkhear: again with this? what about it
whathappenedtomelanieking: well, it went all weird like a year ago right? after that episode at the Cambridge Military Hospital. They all left one by one except for Melanie and then she went… crazy i guess. Freaked out, tryd to say she saw a ghost
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: its a ghost show…
whathappenedtomelanieking: yeh but she got really into it.more than ever before and everyone kind of knew it was fake
ijustworkhear: like those unsolved guys
whathappenedtomelanieking: yeah
whathappenedtomelanieking: anyway it sucked when Andy left but we had Melanie and that was fine
whathappenedtomelanieking: then she kept saying one of their camera people left then their sound until it was like melanie was the only one left
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: k… this matters why?
whathappenedtomelanieking: she got arrested
ijustworkhear: woah
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: jkjhjkhkghsjhk what
whathappenedtomelanieking: ikr? She broke into a junk yard up in Sheffield, says she got stabbed by a ghost or smth
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: 🙄
whathappenedtomelanieking: lol yeah. shes really gone off the deep end. idk i just feel bad
ijustworkhear: yeah
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: so… that it? She’s in jail?
whathappenedtomelanieking: nah, they dropped the charges. she was actuallY in the hospital for a bit, hurt herself
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: breaking into a scrap yard at night… couldn’t be me
ijustworkhear: lol
*
January 24, 2018
placeholder: so…
imbeggingforausername: so…
imbeggingforausername: what’s up
whathappenedtomelanieking: 🙃
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: no we are not doing this shit again
imbeggingforausername: what is happening? Why’d you change your name?
whathappenedtomelanieking: Melanie’s back!!! (sort of)
imbeggingforausername: what
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: don’t ask
whathappenedtomelanieking: you ever heard of Ghost Hunk U.K.
whathappenedtomelanieking: @imnotjusthomointhesapienway rude
imbeggingforausername: not really… i know it went downhill in like 2016 tho
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: 😝
whathappenedtomelanieking: long story, ghosthunting show, melanie went off the rails and the grid for like a year (she was a host btw), and got arrested for breaking into a dump
imbeggingforausername: yikes
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: so what new incredible details have you uncovered now? (@imbeggingforausername this happens like every couple months when Jay thinks they have some new revelation).
whathappenedtomelanieking: HOW DARe!
whathappenedtomelanieking: anyway i was stalking her twitter and she was like posting stuff about being in India and shit and get this. She got shot!
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: let me guess. By a ghost
whathappenedtomelanieking: YES!!!
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: fucking...
whathappenedtomelanieking: Not even the best part… she’s back in London and you’ll never guess where she’s working now.
ijustworkhear: where
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: ayyyy!!! Sam’s here! help me
ijustworkhear: <3
whathappenedtomelanieking: The Magnus Institute
ijustworkhear: k… cool
whathappenedtomelanieking: omg guys you don’t know what the Magnus INstitute is?
whathappenedtomelanieking: how are you my FRIENDS?
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: *sigh* tell us
whathappenedtomelanieking: they collect supernatural statements and “look into them” sounds like a piece of baloney to me, but you gotta pay the bills somehow i guess
imbeggingforausername: thought you believed in the supernatural
whathappenedtomelanieking: yeah, ghosts. The Magnus Institute pretends that there’s like evil books and stuff
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: and Melanie’s working there now? She has cracked
whathappenedtomelanieking: no kidding
ijustworkhear: maybe its for the best
imbeggingforausername: might be good for her
ijustworkhear: jinx!
imbeggingforausername: <3 i don’t know how to tell you this, but no
February 3, 2018
imbeggingforausername: @whathappenedtomelanieking
whathappenedtomelanieking: i’ve been summoned
imbeggingforausername: You see what’s been up with Melanie King lately?
whathappenedtomelanieking: no… what’s going on?
imbeggingforausername: all these vagueposts about how much she wants to kill her boss, which like, mood but im worried shes serious
whathappenedtomelanieking: do tell
imbeggingforausername: she’s like “my boss is trapping me and all these people into working at the archives”
whathappenedtomelanieking: dude… really?
imbeggingforausername: really
imbeggingforausername: i thought it was funny at first, but… you know… you can only read so many posts about what eldritch horrors someone thinks is attacking them before you start to worry.
whathappenedtomelanieking: i’ve been looking into the institute since Melanie joined, i was curios
whathappenedtomelanieking: their last head archivist was found in the tunnels beneath the institute shot three times and their latest archivist is on the run from the police for beating an old man to death with a pipe and probablt killing one of his assistants
imbeggingforausername: wtf
whathappenedtomelanieking: and they got this real bad worm infestation a while back, apparently it freaked one of them out so bad they lived in the archives for like 6 months
imbeggingforausername: How do you know this?
whathappenedtomelanieking: talked to the receptionist, her name’s Rosie, she’s very nice
whathappenedtomelanieking: she’s seen some weird shit. I think i might have seen Melanie but i didn’t talk to her
imbeggingforausername: I forget you live in London, any other weird things?
whathappenedtomelanie: don’t know how much is real, but yeah.
whathappenedtomelanieking: she thinks some lady can control worms, there was this weird tall guy in Jon (that’s the archivist guy)’s office at one point and she never saw him leave (same with the lady giving Jon a statement),
whathappenedtomelanieking: oh and Rosie didn’t tell me this one, but the head of the institute, can’t remember his name, came out of his office at one point and just stared at me
imbeggingforausername: creepy
whathappenedtomelanieking: ikr?
whathappenedtomelanieking: i left like right after that. I did ask if i could look in the archives, but no, you need some kind of degree or something
imbeggingforausername: a degree???? Are they serious???
whathappenedtomelanieking: they looked it, 🤷 i wasn’t going to push my luck, the old guy really freaked me out. It was like he looking into me
imbeggingforausername: what kind of degree would you even need??
imbeggingforausername: ooh weird
whathappenedtomelanieking: just saying, don’t think I’ll be going back for a while
imbeggingforausername: probably smart
October 25, 2018
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: @whathappenedtomelanieking i’m blaming you for getting me interested in this… but all your talking and theorizing about the Magnus Institute has gotten me interested
whathappenedtomelanieking: ooh, in listening
whathappenedtomelanieking: *I’m
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: I went up and talked to Rosie too (you were right she is v. nice) the head of the institute got arrested and the archivist is in a coma
whathappenedtomelanieking: jesus, i feel like we’re uncovering a conspiracy just by being worried about an entertainer we enjoy… Maybe we should leave this alone?
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: i’m kind of getting that too
whathappenedtomelanieking: what about melanie tho?
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: idk, I asked Rosie about her and she just glanced around and then shook her head
whathappenedtomelanieking: i’ve been asking around on some forums and stuff, even emailed one of her old cameramen seems no one’s heard from her in upwards of a year and she’s barely been seen outside the institute
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: um…
whathappenedtomelanieking: genuinely getting worried, but… it’s her life i guess? idk...
October 20, 2019
whathappenedtomelanieking: WE WERE NOT WORRIED ENOUGH ABOUT MELANIE!!!!!!
ijustworkhear: what happened???
imbeggingforausername: wtf
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: did she kill someone or smth
whathappenedtomelanieking: I WAS JUST LISTENING TO WHAT THE GHOST AND GEORIGE MENTIONED MELANIE OFFHAND. I KNOW THEY HANG OUT SOMETIMES SO I CHECKED GEORGIE’S INSTAGRAM AND MELANIE WAS IN ONE OF THE PICTURES (they’re a couple btw, v. cute) SHE WAS BLIND!!!! LIKE PROPERLY!! IT LOOKED LIKE SHE’D BEEN STABBED IN BOTH EYES!!!
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: jesus wtf
ijustworkhear: omg, she’s okay though
imbeggingforausername: damn…
whathappenedtomelanieking: i mean… she’s blind… probably not having a great time, but she looks happy
imbeggingforausername: 🤷 it’s not like she died
whathappenedtomelanieking: i’m not saying its bad she’s blind Erin, just that i’m worried about how it happened.
whathappenedtomelanieking: she was working at that fucking weird institute (you know, ever since i went there i have this feeling like i’m being watched constantly)
imnotjusthomointhesapienway: yikes
October 31, 2019
1:35 p.m.
whathappenedtomelanieking: guys i think something happened…
1:40 p.m.
whathappenedtomelanieking: guys?
whathappenedtomelanieking: @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @ijustworkhear @imbeggingforausername
2:01 p.m.
whathappenedtomelanieking: please answer me i’m freaking out
whathappenedtomelanieking: i can’t find anyone
whathappenedtomelanieking: please
whathappenedtomelanieking: mt hasds arw shaking so bd i can;t type
whathappenedtomelanieking: there;s noone herre
whathappenedtomelanieking: please
2:23 p.m.
whathappenedtomelanieking: @ijustworkhear @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @imbeggingforausername
3:56 p.m.
whathappenedtomelanieking: @ijustworkhear @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @imbeggingforausername
4:47 p.m.
whathappenedtomelanieking: @ijustworkhear @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @imbeggingforausername
Any similarities to actual usernames weren’t intentional (although I am really proud of “I’m only homo in the sapien way”).
@whathappenedtomelanieking was lost in the Lonely in the Eyepocalypse in case I didn’t make that clear enough.
Feel free to ask about my writing or ask to be added to my taglist. Stay safe :)
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Foundations Sprint One - Identity, values & strengths documentation
My core personal values:
Evidence of core values:
Self awareness:
Self awareness is a deep rooted value that I have practiced over the past few years while growing into an adult. I use self awareness to keep me grounded, respect other people and “be interested, not interesting” - in other words, “the world doesn't revolve around you”. I started practicing self awareness and self reflection when I started University in 2018. As part of my degree, we were required to keep a blog and continuously document our work and reflect on our progress. From this, I began getting in the habit or self reflecting through journaling. I found this a great habit to get into as I began to become more self aware of my actions throughout the day, rather than reflecting on all of my actions at the end of the day.
Dr Jordan B. Petersons 6th rule in his book, 12 Rules For Life: an Antidote to Chaos, includes; “set your house in perfect order before you criticize the world”. To me this means no one is perfect and neither are you - I think it is important to remind yourself of this everyday.
Evidential feedback from my mother, Carol:
Erin was an amazing kid – pretty smart and good at sports. She got glandular fever at about 12 yrs old and since then I notice that when she is tired/busy/stressed she doesn’t always take good care of herself physically and mentally. My observation is that she is at her best when she does good/extensive physical exercise and then she sleeps better and is better prepared for life and it maintains a positive mood. I think she recognises this sometimes.
Feedback from my friend and past project partner, Gabrielle:
Here is my interpretation of Dr Jordan B. Petersons rule "Set your house in perfect order before you criticise the world". I interpret this as People can choose to do good or bad, and often it can be tough to do good, and easier to do bad. Lyrics from Morrisey of the band The Smiths reflect this same sentiment "It's so easy to laugh, It's so easy to hateIt takes guts to be gentle and kind". People often focus on the bad things happening around them and the people doing it. You have to find your inner strength and choose to do good, so that your life can be infinitely better, so that you can lose your bitterness and resentment, and that the lives of those around you can improve. Focusing on the bad part of life, the world, and people, can get you down into a bad downward spiral of thoughts that will make you feel like revenge towards humanity and being. Obviously, people have every reason to be bitter about these things, but it does not contribute to a healthy state of mind. This is why people need to focus on the small things they ARE able to change. Living well and being successful in your personal life WILL have a positive impact and influence on those around you. Yep.
Gratitude, empathy, and mindfulness:
I was first introduced to gratitude, empathy and mindfulness when I started my job at Mecca in 2018. Mecca dedicated paid training hours to introduce new staff to practicing gratitude, empathy and mindfulness (gem) in both our working lives and personal lives. I found this felt like a therapy session, it really opened my eyes to appreciating what I have, listening to and respecting the people around me, and being mindful of my actions and words. This also ties into my value of family and friends and being grateful for the amazing people I have.
Evidential feedback from my mother, Carol:
I see in Erin a calmness when she is doing something mindful like painting, where she has to concentrate and that is a good thing for her. Passively watching videos, etc is not always ideal and she could explore a balance there. At times, I see that Erin is very grateful for all the opportunities she has had and everything good that has happened to her but sometimes I do see she takes things for granted.
Cherishing life with no zero days:
I truly believe in hard work and seeing life as an opportunity to learn, grow, succeed and enjoy it. One of my goals for 2021 is to have no zero days. This means doing or creating something each day, no matter how small it is as long as it contributes to my self growth.
Evidential feedback from my mother, Carol:
Maybe also included in the no zero days would be physical challenges/activities as these are important for a balanced life.
Being a self-reliant and competent individual:
I still live with my parents (I am 21, please don’t judge) and they recently went away for three weeks which left me with myself and their sick cat. During this time, I learnt a very valuable lesson, again from Dr Jordan B. Peterson, where you must “treat yourself like someone you are responsible for helping” - Rule number 2. I took full responsibility for household including cooking and cleaning and chores, taking full care of a sick cat, feeding her, giving her medication each day, and disposing of her kitty litter waste, and then eventually, taking proper care of myself through diet, exercise, taking care of mental health and being completely self reliant.
Evidential feedback from my mother, Carol:
I see Erin as being very self-reliant and competent. She has always got on with her uni and paid work without really any pushing from me. She is less inclined to be competent when it comes to looking after my car unfortunately, as the rubbish and dirt has grown in it. Thankfully the cat survived her imposed stay with Erin very well and Erin did everything we asked of her in looking after the house and keeping it super tidy, as we had open homes during our absence. I guess it is fair to say that Erin can be a very self-reliant and competent individual when she chooses to be and it is about something she cares about.
My core personal strengths and limitations:
Evidence of strengths:
Communication skills and decision making:
I think I have always had good communication skills when working with other people. I have lead team projects in Uni because I could communicate well and make decisions. I enjoy working with other people and companies, as well as getting to know people in my personal life.
I am good in job interviews and can communicate clear and concisely.
Self awareness, self reflection, and honestly:
As mentioned in my values, I believe a strength of mine in my professional life is self awareness including honesty and self reflection. This ties into my communication skills where I can happily work with people and remain “interested, not interesting”.
Project management and time management skills:
In my final year of University, I completed a paper called Creative Workflows”. This paper consisted of how to management your time, money, task responsibility etc using a creative workflow model in a long term project. I genuinely gained an interest in this paper and still practice the methodologies and management skills when working on personal projects.
Creativity and generating creative ideas:
I have always enjoyed art particularly paiting using acrylics, digital art on my Ipad, creating and editing videos, and more recently, photography (which I am really bad at). All of these artistic skills I use in both my daily habits, hobbies and also my professional/educational life.
I began the Creative Technologies degree because I knew I was a creative person and thrived in a creative environment - not because I was particularly tech savvy when I was 18... I loved coming up with creative project ideas that generally included a mixture of art and design and interactive technologies. This included my final project in Uni which was a group project called Horotiu. Horotiu was a screen-based, interactive installation In Aotea Square that educated the public on the Maori mythology and history of Auckland CBD. This was done through hand-drawn animation (my project partner), lighting design and interactivity.
Task: Using the evidence gathered, describe your strengths and limitations.
Explain a situation where you have had an ethical decision to make. Discuss how you weighed up the values involved in that decision, the decision you made and the consequences of the action you took.
When I was in first year of Uni, I was absolutely desperate for money and decided to work 3-4 days a week while studying full time. This did have an impact of my learning journey and grades and I definitely regret it. That's what Studylink is for!
Describe how your culture has influenced your values and identity.
I think what is most notable about Kiwi culture, stemming from Maori culture, that has influenced my values and identity is kaitiakatanga (being one with the environment, and respecting the land) and manaakitanga (being hospitable).
Kaitiakatanga has influenced me to value respectfulness of myself and others, and further having gratitude, empathy and mindfulness for the people around me; collegues, friends, family.
Manaakitanga has influenced me to value the people around me as individuals and treat them as my whanau. This also ties into self aware in my actions of treating people; being welcoming, “interested, not interesting”.
Evaluate your strengths and limitations in terms of your learning and career development
In a learning or career environment, my communication skills and decision making skills has helped me become the young, ambitious person that I am today. I strived for a degree with high grades that I absolutely loved, I worked alongside individuals, other businesses and industry standard mentors to further my learning and career development. I am grateful to have an ambition to connect with the people around me - everyone has something to offer, everyone has a talent.
What I noticed in studying Creative Technologies is when working in groups there always needs to be a chief decision maker. This was something we practiced in the first year or so. When it is hard to come up with project ideas or move into the next phase of a project there can be several difficult decision on where to navigate the project i.e do we include this feature? is it useful? I found it was a good skill to quickly analyze the situation and make a decision to continue the flow of project. Our lecturers would always say, “just make a decision on something and START IT, whatever it is, and then make more decisions and KEEP GOING”
Identify which of your strengths might help you in your learning journey and how they might intersect with learning obstacles.
One of my strengths, being a good decision maker, I think will help me in my learning journey. But I am not necessarily a good problem solver (that I have noticed) which is what a developer is when programming. I am hoping to grow my problem solving skills throughout this course with all of the individual and group projects.
Share an example from your experience of where you were trying to work productively with others, but there was resistance or tension. Discuss the strategies you used at that time, how effective they were, and your reflections on what other strategies you would try now, and why.
I remember in a group project in uni where we were creating a hypothetical application called Ecocery. Ecocery was a phone app to help users purchase environmentally food products when grocery shopping. You would scan the barcode, and information on the products ingredients, packaging, water footprint and carbon footprint, and how environmentally the brands company is as a whole, would pop up on the screen and give it an overall rating.
I decided to create the hypothetical app using Wix, which contained a section dedicated to informative article on how food impacts the environment. One team member wrote an article about transport for the website which I felt was not relevant and shouldn't be on the website as it is about food. This did create tension between the team member and myself but we came to a rational decision to re-write an article together that was more relevant. We got an A for the project!
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Since we last checked in, I have finished 0 books and bought 10 more (this time at a cost of $7). Again no proper treasure; I feel like most of these are destined for "read and release," but maybe they’ll surprise me. I’m still more excited about this collection than the last one, though. From bottom to top --
YA
1. Summer of Sloane - Erin Schneider: this has been on my theoretical TBR since 2016, when the Goodreads algorithm was still decent about showing me YA novel options that actually matched my tastes. My library system never had a copy, so now it's at my leisure. I don't feel like it's a keeper, and maybe it’s only a standard 3-star read, but I still want to read it. Because Hawaii.
2. Heartwood Box - Ann Aguire: I know nothing about this title or author, but between that cover and "when Araceli Flores Harper is sent to live with her great-aunt Ottilie in her ramshackle Victorian home" I basically locked on. Further skimming of the synopsis sounds like it's a suspenseful read with a tinge of supernatural horror; either way I'm here for it.
3. Open Road Summer - Emery Lord: I've never read this author but I want to; she's perfectly suited to my tastes. I've been kicking myself for not taking a chance on this specific one ever since I saw it at a used bookstore 3 years ago; local library doesn't have it and I always (eventually) have a use for books about singers on tour, YA or otherwise.
4. The Next Together - Lauren James: normally this kind of book would not even be on my radar; the idea of soulmates who are reborn to meet and re-meet over centuries is just not a vibe I can normally make my peace with because it's too sad (one life and then heaven, that's the soulmate route for me!). But it turns out the Loki series is opening my brain up to all the book genres I normally write off sight unseen, and that plus the fact that this includes mixed-media formatting immediately made the summary tingle my brain.
Children’s and/or nonfiction
5. Macadoo of the Maury River - Gigi Amateau: Chancey of the Maury River was one of the greatest delights and surprises of 21st century children's literature, but after the sequels were published my library never bought them. Now I can read this one! I expect it will be just as good; these books are modeled on Black Beauty while aware that their target audience is as young as 8.
6. Animals Welcome: A Life of Reading, Writing and Rescue - Peg Kehret: I've not read as many of Kehret's books as you'd think a prolific reader of my age would have, but I've cherished a few. She's a very prolific and respectable children's author and I am so thrilled to read this late-in-life memoir for her target audience centered around her pets and animal rescues.
7. Thoroughbred: Ashleigh #9, Holiday Homecoming: the short prequel series about middle school aged Ashleigh Griffin wasn't as cherished a part of my childhood as the original series, but I did read a couple, and because I love Ashleigh I can't help collecting any I come across, even though they will probably always live stored in cardboard boxes. Chris Platt actually wrote this installment, which is fine because Platt is a solid horse book author in her own write.
8. Ponies of Chincoteague #2: Blue Ribbon Summer - Catherine Hapka: okay I now have FIVE of these without having read a single one -- an 8-book series about modern-day girls and their ponies inspired by Misty of Chincoteague -- but I also can't help collecting the 50-cent copies as I see them, they are just so clearly Books I Would Have Loved if they had existed when I was a kid, and are also still so clearly a reliable source of a Very Good Pony Tale today, when I'm in that mood.
9. The Trouble With Tuck - Theodore Taylor: a childhood favorite, but one I never owned. and it is so small and skinny that it is no trouble at all to keep.
10. Independent London: yes, this is a souvenir guide to small businesses, from 2012 at that, to a city in a country I've never been to and probably never will. But there is just something so FUN about taking an <i>imaginary</i> shopping trip through guides like this, pocket sized and each one featuring a glossy photo of the store's interior/wares and a cute little paragraph about what they offer, like catalog copy. I'd like to hold onto it at least long enough for a thorough browse.
Books I Put Back:
* This Star Won’t Go Out in perfect like-new condition. Which I was very sad about. Because I did enjoy and do want that book, and I will never find a better deal on price + condition. But is is just so enormous, as big as the 5th Harry Potter book but even heavier, and it simply would take up too much room.
* Chateau of Flowers: The Romantic Story of Lily of the Valley: I might regret this one a little, because this book was beautiful. Click the link and look at it, it’s the jacket-less edition shown. It was small -- mass market paperback sized -- but a beautiful soft green faux-leather cover with just that embossed silver flower design on the cover (no words) and similarly embossed title on the spine. I CANNOT be out here buying books solely because they would look pretty on my shelf (the shelf on which I have negative 16 feet of space to spare), so I made myself put it back, but I seriously considered it.
(The other reason was that it turned out to be a Harlequin novel, and not really a bad one in terms of being explicit, just rather cheesy in the way you’d expect from a 1971 publication date. And for personal dignity reasons I just cannot own something like that. But honestly, the angst looked like it might have been enjoyably cheesy, like a book you might enjoy from your grandma’s shelf...no! we shall not think of this any further. I hope someone buys it and guts it and turns it into a junk journal cover or something; that is its true destiny i think)
Bonus Pic:
Bonus 2: this was a 30-minute drive but a fairly pleasant one, and the most fun part was that despite it being an overcast 40 degrees outside (and I decided against a coat), this library is near an absurdly large park with a ton of foot trails through the forest, and on a day like today it was entirely deserted despite being a Saturday. I spent an hour roaming around, and as the trails wind up and down a lot of hills -- mostly gentle inclines, but long ones -- it was quite a great thigh muscle workout, with the bonus reward of there being a lot of awesome benches made from giant logs split in half (hinged with metal supports) on high spots overlooking pretty ponds.
There were also a lot of cool older houses, many with barns (though no horses), whose backyards dotted the edges of the park boundaries here and there, so it felt like you were just granted access to roam through a neighbor’s property. In addition to the houses themselves just looking really cool.
Basically...what a great Saturday!
#a day in the life of televinita#library sale#and there are EVEN MORE yet to come in april! can't stop won't stop#(except after that the sales mostly chillax for a while as garage sale season starts up.#might be a couple of sales in june but mostly they go back into hibernation until the next major round in the fall)
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Vicky Archives #5
FIRESTAR’S QUEST - storyline vs manuscript
Vicky Holmes, the former editor of the Warriors series, has been doing short extract readings on Facebook since the start of the UK lockdown back in March. There’s some really cool anecdotes hidden within some of these videos, so I decided to begin penning them down for posterity and easy reference.
I won’t be transcribing filler, hedging and false starts but I’m including some amount of preamble just to be comprehensive.
#1 Into the Wild | #2 Forest of Secrets | #3 The Darkest Hour | #4 Code of the Clans | #5 Firestars’ Quest | #6 Twilight | #7 Long Shadows | #8 Leafpool’s Wish
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Good morning! Welcome back to my kitchen!
Today I’m in a slightly more positive mood and I hope you are too. It’s a very weird time. Today I’m going to talk about the difference between the storyline and the manuscript, because it is still very unclear what actually I do, what contribution I make to the books that I’ve worked on with Kate and Cherith.
Basically, in saying that I come up with the stories and the characters, what I actually do is create a very detailed storyline that Kate or Cherith then turn into the manuscript, and then I work on that manuscript and edit it and change little bits just to make sure that it sounds like Erin. It tells the story I had in mind.
I think the best way to illustrate this is I’m going to read a section of storyline, and then actually the finished book. I’m going to use Firestar’s Quest for this. The reason for that, is there’s a line in Firestar’s Quest which several of you have picked out as one of your favourite lines, and that is when Firestar is told by Bluestar about SkyClan, and the fact that there used to be five Clans in the forest and now there’s only four. Bluestar says ‘oh, look at Fourtrees, there’s only four trees, not five’. And Firestar says ‘are you telling me that SkyClan had to leave because there weren’t enough trees?’
That is one of my favourite lines, and I came up with it in the storyline. I don’t want to detract at all from Cherith’s brilliant writing, but it might be interesting for you to compare the detail I’ve put into the storyline with what actually emerges in the first draft.
I’m going to read the storyline from that scene, and then I will read the final draft you got to read. The scene is Chapter 5 in Firestar’s Quest, when Firestar has been having these strange dreams about another Clan, this idea that they’re pleading to him for help but he doesn’t seem to be receiving any guidance from StarClan. He dreams of Bluestar at this time because Firestar’s Quest is set between series one and two, so Bluestar is dead by now and Firestar is the leader of ThunderClan. He dreams of her and says ‘what’s going on? What do I have to do?’ and Bluestar says ‘well, actually yes there was a fifth Clan, a long time ago, and maybe they’re asking for your help, but there’s nothing in the warrior code that says you have to help them’. She’s kind of evasive.
This is the storyline. I’m reading it from my laptop. It’s all tech all the time here. Now one curiosity of storylines across the whole publishing world is storylines are written in the present tense, and actual novels rarely are in children’s fiction, so I’m going to be reading in the present tense. This is the storyline.
“Why has StarClan asked for my help?” Firestar asks. Bluestar admits she can’t answer that but she has always known Firestar would leave resonant pawprints behind him. Maybe his influence extends beyond ThunderClan, and across many, many generations of cats. But she warns Firestar that his own Clan needs him too, and there is nothing in the warrior code that says he has to go and help these cats.
Firestar knows he’s right, but he is torn. Has StarClan been lying to him all this time? The only way he found the courage to win against BloodClan is because he believed his warrior ancestors when they told him there would always be four Clans in the forest, protected forever by the fifth Clan - StarClan. What does this mean for the warrior code? Is that based on a lie too?
Bluestar can tell Firestar is feeling angry and confused, and she tries to calm him by reminding him that his warrior ancestors have always watched over him. His duty is to his own Clan now. SkyClan left long ago. No living cat remembers them, and life in the forest is balanced perfectly between the four remaining Clans. There is no gap where there used to be, no surplus of prey or territory.
She mentions the theory about the four giant oaks, and Firestar stares at her with contempt. “SkyClan was driven out because there weren’t enough trees?”
Bluestar looks shocked and dismayed, but Firestar whips around and races to the edge of the hollow. He plunges up the slope, feeling brambles tear at his fur, but he doesn’t care. He has been betrayed by his own Clan’s warrior ancestors, and everything he’s fought for seems to have turned to dust.
Panting, he awakes at the Moonstone. His fur is standing on end and his paws are bleeding as if he has run a long way over stony ground. The moon has gone behind a cloud and the cavern is pitch dark. He makes his way blindly to the surface and sits on a rock. Stars shine overhead but Firestar cannot see the kindly eyes of his warrior ancestors in their light now.
Poor, tortured, homeless SkyClan. Where are they now? And why has he started seeing them? Is he meant to help them? But how? They were driven out of the forest so long ago. No cat remembers them.
That was my storyline. And my storyline - to put in context - for Firestar’s Quest was thirty five thousand words long. Firestar’s Quest was about one hundred and sixteen thousand words long, so I’m writing nearly a quarter of the final manuscript.
Now I’m going to read to you what Cherith did with that piece of storyline.
“Firestar, are there bees in your brain?” Bluestar’s tail lashed. “You are ThunderClan’s leader, and your Clan needs you. There’s nothing in the warrior code that says you have to help a Clan that has been missing for so long, no living cat remembers them.”
Firestar narrowed his eyes. Bluestar was right about his responsibility toward ThunderClan, but he couldn’t forget the wailing of the cats on the moor. How could he ignore them, if there was anything he could do to help? It wasn’t Bluestar’s dreams that were filled with the shrieks of terrified, fleeing cats; she didn’t see a pleading, haunted face in every pool of water.
And yet the only reason he had found the courage to lead the forest Clans into battle against BloodClan was because he had believed his warrior ancestors when they told him there had always been four Clans in the forest. The fifth Clan was StarClan, forever protecting the four below. Had StarClan lied?
Bluestar rested her tail tip on his shoulder and spoke more calmly. “Your warrior ancestors are watching over you now, just as they have always done. Nothing has changed. Yourduty is to your own Clan now.”
“But SkyClan—”
“Has gone. There is no gap where they used to be, no prey or territory waiting for them to return. The forest is perfectly divided between the four Clans who remain.”
“Then it’s the will of StarClan that I just ignore these cats?” Firestar challenged her. “Don’t you care that they are suffering?”
Bluestar blinked. “There are cats who would argue that there should never have been a fifth Clan in the forest at all. Why are there four oaks at Fourtrees, if not to stand for the four Clans?”
Firestar gazed up at the massive oak trees, then back at Bluestar. Fury pure as a lightning flash rushed through his body. “Are you mouse-brained?” he snarled. “Are you telling me SkyClan had to leave because there weren’t enough trees?”
A look of shock and dismay filled Bluestar’s eyes. Not waiting for her reply, Firestar whipped around and raced to the edge of the hollow. Brambles tore at his fur as he plunged through the bushes, but the pain meant nothing. Ever since he came to the forest he had trusted his warrior ancestors. But they had been lying to him all along. He felt as if he had taken a step on ground he thought was solid, only to fall into deep and bitter water.
He fought his way through the last of the bushes, but instead of reaching the rim of the hollow, he found himself blinking awake in the cavern of the Moonstone. His breath was coming in harsh rasps. His fur felt torn and rumpled. His paws stung, and when he licked them he tasted the salty tang of blood, as if he had been running a long way over stony ground.
Far above, through the hole in the roof, clouds covered the moon and stars. The cave was utterly dark. Firestar rose to his paws and limped across the cave floor, close to panic until he stumbled into the entrance to the tunnel. When he emerged onto the side of the hill a stiff breeze was shredding the clouds like wet cobweb. Firestar caught only fitful glimpses of the moon, but stars were shining overhead once more.
He crawled onto the flat rock where he had waited earlier and collapsed there, gazing upward. He could not see the kindly eyes of his warrior ancestors in the starlight any longer. The desperate cries of the lost and tortured SkyClan echoed through his mind. How am I meant to help them?
All those cats must be dead by now. They had fled so long ago that no cat remembered them. But where were their descendants, the living SkyClan?
That will give you a little glimpse at what Cherith and Kate bring to my storyline. They bring the location, the details, the metaphor, and flesh out the bones that I’ve created. I just think those two sections give a very clear demonstration of the way I work, and the way we work together as a team, and what I bring.
I just hope that’s been an interesting glimpse into the writing process. Stay strong, my lovelies. We’re getting through this together. Bye!
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New Beginnings Are Good For Everyone!!!! Ch.2
Jay walked into the bullpin the next day with a smile on his face, a smile that hasnt been on his face in a long time & he missed it. He notices the guys sitting at their desks so he made his way toward them.
Hey guys!
Well isnt someone in a chipper mood today, im guess that means that the date went pretty good last night? Ask Adam
Oh no...There wasnt a date at all because she decided not to show up.
Then why are you in such a great mood if you got stood up? Kevin asked him confused
The reason that i am in a good mood is because of me being stood up last night i just decided that i would go to the bar in the resturant and get drunk but i ended up meeting a woman who was in town for business and we just had a great talk and by the time that she left to go back to her room my mind had been taken off the fact that i had been stood up. It didnt really matter to me at the point.
Oh so did you happen to get this womans name?
I did but i know that i am probably never going to see her again....so i am not telling you her name im just gonna know that i enjoyed her company last night.
So what did you talk about? Adam questioned
It was just a general conversation. Nothing deep, but as she walked away to head back up to her room I just couldnt help but to look back & I am glad that I did because when I did I she must have also had the same feeling because she was looking right back at me..
who knows maybe you just found the girl that could exactly what you need? Says Kevin
Well if he ever sees her again......Stated Adam
*Kim*
Saying that she was nervous about this interview today is understatment, she couldnt think straight she was never this nervous about anything but she wanted this spot really bad. She was trying to remind herself to just be her, that what she had done in the past for her job would show them that she was a great choice for this. As she looked herself over one more time in the mirror she decided to head out a little early so she could get some coffee before heading over to the precinct.
She was standing at the bottom of the steps, right before she enters she takes a deep breath and tells herself "You got this". She walks to the front desk and she sees a lady standing there who must be over everything so she walks up to the lady confidently.
Can I help you Ms? Ask the desk Sargent
Yes ma'am I am here for a meeting or interview with a Sargent Hank Voight. Kim states
Can I get your name so I can inform him that you are here?
My name is Kim Burgess ma'am
Ok Ms. Burgess if I could get you to have a sit on the bench I am sure that he will be down with you momentarily.
Ok thank you, she looks at the badge Sargent Platt
She sits paitently yet anxiously, thinking over the things that could possibly be ask and the answers that she would give him. As she is sit there lost in thought she hears the cage door slam and brings her out of her thoughts. She stands as she sees a man walking in her direction.
Hello Agent Burgess I am Sargent Voight. Its nice to meet you Erin has told me so much about you.
Hello Sargent Voight its so nice to meet you. Likewise she told me great things about you.
Lets head upstairs so that we can talk a little bit more. He heads toward the cage as he opens the door he motions for you to head in, you both walk up the stairs carrying on the small conversation on how Erin is. As you make it to the top of the steps you notice the team is fast at work on whatever their case is today. You scan the room and notice there are 5 people, 4 men and 1 woman. You walk to the office quietly not really paying attention to the faces of the team.
As she enters the office she takes the first seat available & Sargent Voight takes the seat opposite of you behind the desk. The conversation flowed like you had known each other for years and every question he asked you, you answered the question the best way that you knew how to. By the end of it you both somehow ended up laughing and you dont exactly remember how that happened.
So Kim if you were given the position would you be willing to take our detective exam?
Yes I would have no problem doing taking the exam. I know things are run differently here then what I am used to but I am willing the learn the way that you run your things down here.
With everything being said Agent Kim Burgess I would formally like to offer you the open spot that I have here in the Intelligence Unit if you would like to take it.
Yes I would be honored to join Intelligence. She said with a huge smile plastered on her face.
I know that you are going to need about a week to get everything settled in Washington and get back down here so i will see you next Monday Kim
Thank you so much for this opportunity Sargent Voight. She stands extending her hand. Come on I will introduce you to the rest of the team.
As they walk out the door she notices all eyes are looking in their direction. Hank starts to speak
Ok team I would like you all to welcome our newest member to the Intelligence Unit Agent Kim Bugess. She will be taking the detective exam when she returns from Washington, she is coming to us from the FBI.
Everyone makes their way up to her starting to introduce theirself starting with the only woman on the team
Hi I am Detective Hailey Upton, Its going to be nice to finally have another female around here,
Hi Detective Upton it is so nice to meet you. May have to have you to show me the ropes around here.
I will be more than happy to do that. She smiles knowing that they will be good friends
Then two guys walk up to you.
Hi I am Officer Adam Ruzek & this is officer Kevin Attwater
Hi it is very nice to meet the both of you and I cant wait to work with everyone here. It seems like a big family here.
A dysfunctional family but we are family. You all share a small laugh.
Then an older gentleman walks up to you and you can tell that he has been doing this for a long time.
Hello Agent Burgess I am Dectective Olinsky.
Nice to meet you Dectective Olinsky.
May I ask you a question? Ask Olinsky
Sure ask anything
Why would someone want to move from the FBI down to a unit like Intelligence?
I have been with the FBI for almost 5 years and there is just times that its just to much for me. I have always wanted to work in a smaller team of people like here in Intelligence, so when a friend offered to try and get me an interview with Sargent Voight I could turn the chance down.
I can understand that. Well welcome to the team and I cant wait to see what you bring to the team.
Thank you Detective
Lastily there was one more team member that you hadnt met yet as you turn around to make your way to his desk he looks up at you with a small smile. He stands up leaning against the edge of his desk.
Well,well hello there stranger
Hey, honestly have to say didnt think that I was going to ever see you again
I guess the world works in mysterious ways Kim
I guess it does.
Now this way i think we might be able to have a little bit better conversation, since both of us are in better spirits.
Most definetly. Well I guess that i better get going so I can get everything taken care of back home and find a place here before start work next monday. It was nice seeing you again Jay.
Kim says her finally byes and as she is leaving the unit she does one final look back and just like last night their eyes lock right before she dissapears.
This was going to be everything she hoped it would and more..
Her new life was about to begin and she had never been more happy about anything in her entire life.......
#jay halstead imagine#jay halstead x reader#chicagopd#chicago pd x reader#kim burgess#Jay halstead x kim burgess
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