#lettie lith

[rambling-madwoman]

Midnight Cinderella Character Notes

My character notes for the midcin suitors. I haven't played all their routes and these will probably change and update as I'm writing & as I acquire more info. Some creative liberties/interpretations inevitable. I've also added some notes for the Princess I'm writing, Lettie.

Updating :) Worked out my notes more in the editing process. So far I have Louis & Lettie done (for now). I've expanded on the other suitors a bit but they're not done & I need to go through the routes more to pin down specifics. I left the notes I had and I'll update as they're done :)

The 'relationship' section for the suitors is how I think they are around love, in relationships in general. I have further notes about how they are with Lettie but that's just plot isn't it? Secrets secrets.

Loretta “Lettie” or “Etta” Vachon – Local medicine woman? Witch?

Personality/Background - Born in the Wysterian countryside, raised with her brother by a single mother who worked as a ladies maid. Lettie spent most of her time looking after the children of the family her mother worked for. After the death of her mother, Lettie was left alone to raise Theo. The master of the household sent them away with a sum of money, which Lettie spent almost entirely on small house in the capital. Finding work enough to survive was difficult but Lettie made herself useful to neighbors who began coming to her for the skills she had learned from her mother. (I have to nail this down more specifically, think masking gallic polytheistic practices with catholic saints/practices to go under the radar during the crusades.) As Lettie became more involved with their lives and making more money, it created rumors of witchcraft. Lettie fed into it, creating a reputation that kept people away while keeping a network of trustworthy clients.

Her personality lends itself well to the witch rumors. Ornery, blunt, more often than not rude or sarcastic. Beneath that, she��s been a caretaker since a young age and it runs deep in her. The loss of her mother and the family she had grown up caring for made her acutely aware of how much it can hurt to love people, but she can’t help herself. She can’t turn her back on people, even if she’s swearing at you and scolding the entire time. Voice - Her family was very involved with the family they served, Lettie and Theo both had access to their library. Lettie’s accent is prominent, either softly pronouncing h’s or not at all, putting emphasis on the last syllables of words, and having a rising intonation at the end of statements. Doesn’t use qualifiers, is always sure before she speaks. Appearance - Overall narrow & lithe build. Despite her nature her features are delicate, if you can notice it under her glare. Almond shaped brown eyes, so dark they’re almost black, usually narrowed in scrutiny. Short, straight brows & covered in freckles head to toe. Long ashy brown hair she’s been cutting herself, so it’s not even.

Louis Howard - Duke

Personality/Background - Cold, distant, bored, & apathetic front. Really he’s entirely cynical, disillusioned, and broken down. He’s not self hating, beyond thinking himself a coward. He’s more motivated by the fear of letting anything true or genuine slip about him. He does have a sense of humor somewhere in there, it’s just buried and it takes knowing him a long while before he’ll let that slip. Rude, sarcastic bitch. Even defrosted there are some things that don’t change.

He doesn’t do anything half assed. Even things he doesn’t want to do. His entire wounded heart is in everything he does from the moment he decides it.

Background isn’t super clear. He says he was kidnapped maybe. He probably at least feels that way as he just went to bed an orphan and literally woke up in the Duke’s manor. Sid says Louis was “paid for” and the orphanage “sold him off.” But a couple paying money to an orphanage and getting a kid is just kind of adoption it’s not really kidnapping. Either way Louis is high key traumatized so I think there is more to it. The world of nobility is cruel sure but my man is having full body responses & projecting his trauma onto a chick he literally just met. What happened to you baby. Voice - Light and elegant, but tendency to be flat to the point of monotone. Tendency to mutter that has never been entirely trained out of him. Not very deep but his emotion can become very apparent in it, particularly anger. Appearance - He’s so gorgeous he looks like he was carved from smooth marble, too bad he’s about as stiff as it too. High cheek bones, heart shaped face. Heavy lidded bright blue eyes & pretty lashes, but they lend themselves well to glaring. I’m looking at a picture of him and what is his hairstyle? Straight, golden blonde hair that he chronically puts off cutting, so it always ends up hanging in his eyes. There’s a statuesque quality to his body as well, that soft marble sort of look that makes him both chiseled and delicate. The plane of his chest is smooth and firm but his waist has a bit of a curve to it, slight wrists, lean legs.

He doesn’t mind being told his face is pretty, but he actually hates to have his body called pretty, smooth, anything that implies it’s feminine or boyish. Makes him self conscious. (He also never grows facial hair, Sid does and he won’t let him forget it)

Updating...

Albert Burckhardt - knight, advisor

Strong moral, chivalric code. Impeccably skilled & serious but can be flustered. He can be playful but it comes out more in competitiveness, teasing, bickering. Can't really show he cares directly.

“You come across like you're cool and collected but you're a big ball of crazy under there aren't you?” Repressed emotions, he's intense and its not that far below the surface. Even when he's sweet he's intense.

Giles Christophe - Chamberlain

He seems strict but he's hardworking. Playful & flirtatious, no that's not just with the Princess it's how he is. Subtle flair for dramatics but also he’s a wine mom. Kind of a worrier. There’s a Tamaki Suoh vibe in there somewhere.

Lettie wants to be more like him, the way he can see a path forward and maneuver it. More graceful. I gotta re read his route I didn't like it at the time lol

Alyn Crawford - Captain

Grumpy Jock refuses to admit his own feelings to himself, often. Until they reach a fever pitch. Tsundere, would really rather blame you for whatever he feels.

Not possessive, more so easily jealous and very needy. Don’t look at anyone else. You know when a dog doesn’t look like they like being pet but then they growl if you stop?

There goes the captain. And his charge who doesn't have to listen to him.

Sid Arnault - "information dealer"

His title sounds like something he made up. We know what he does, he's supposed to manage the Grandier estate. Is "information dealing" (read: extortion, espionage) a family business or does Sid do this to have his own $, not the Grandiers?

Arrogant and doesn't really give a shit about about anyone but himself. But at the same time he doesn't actually think all that highly of himself. Smarter and thinking more long term than he would let on. It just so happens that long term includes primarily get money, get bitches.

Lettie challenges him, they insult each other back and forth as greetings. He never cares what anyone thinks, why is he obsessing over what Lettie thinks or how she reacts to him? Internal panic.

Nico Meier - Advisor?

Given how Byron came to rule Stein, it wouldn't be surprising if Albert & Nico's positions are a given. They don't have official titles outside of whatever is most advantageous for them to move politically. "Advisor" sort of suits Albert but Nico feels more like a shadowy left hand.

Cheeky bastard, more of a flirt the more he knows someone. Knows he's adorable, manipulative little shit. Loves hard, he will die to prove himself to you.

At first he’s a cute distraction, but she feels more seriously for him when he shows more competence & skill.

Robert Branche - Court Painter

Seems even keeled but actually has a quiet, dark intensity. More pessimistic & cynical than he lets on. I gotta get his route because I need to know more about his deal.

She doesn't need him. She sees all sides of him, not just the warm front. She is patient when he is bitter and dark. Doesnt try to change him, lets him deal with things how he does.

Rayvis Harneit - Archduke

Cool and composed, “does everything perfectly.” Ok so he’s probably a freak under that, right? Controlling. He can keep his emotions under control but when they get more intense he has no idea what to do with them.

Lettie is stubborn, calls bullshit on his persona constantly. He’s not used to being challenged. He falls for her hard and it is completely out of his control and he is not being normal about it.

Leo Crawford - Bureaucrat

hyperintelligent nerd. Very well read, knows something about everything, and will charge for his knowledge in kisses. Playful flirt but he’s got a mean streak when he gets angry.

Leo doesn't work well with a lady, he needs an equal he can be unhinged and playful with. He gets bored easy.

Byron Wagner - 👑

Entirely left brained, to a fault. Thinks for efficiency not emotionally. Has a sense of humor though.

Hot/cool. He's shocking ice or refreshing water, she's fireworks or the burn of alcohol in your chest

Notes on their relationships -

Byron, Al, & Nico - Bastard, Bitch, & Baby. They can turn it on and be the indomitable trio of Stein, but really they’re always 3 brothers competing and messing with each other. Albert can pretend he’s above it but he is not.

Yes Nico & Al fight over who loves Byron more. Yes they will try to prove it.

Giles, Alyn, Sid, Leo, Louis - Why do I kind of feel like they’re friends. They have to deal with each other for work, they have little work/life distinction, turns into drinks after work… turns into god damn dude i been around you too long.

Giles is the wine mom friend, he knows exactly how the rest will fuck up before they do it, and he will say I told you so afterwards. Alyn is supposed to be his rock, but his temper will get the better of him. Alyn feels the same way about Giles, but Giles lets his stress get the better of him.

Alyn and Sid get along, and I can see it but I don't quite know why. In game Alyn can read that Sid is actually panicking when the MC is kidnapped even though in text he seems calm.

Leo & Giles are prone to the same vices of women & alcohol, so Leo loves to be the devil on his shoulder. Leo & Sid are a deadly combination when together, especially if left alone.

Fight on sight with Leo & Alyn. Leo will be a snarky dick and Alyn will start swinging. But they still know each other better than anyone else & can read each other a mile away.

Sid & Louis are the eternal bickering married couple. Louis says he hates him and he does, but he loves him too.

For some reason I feel like Louis & Leo would get along. Leo is 20% more chill with Louis & he appreciates that. Louis is no bullshit, hates the stupid games nobles play, and Leo appreciates that. Fuck everybody else, I respect you.

[lettielith]

Lettie Lith

[the-hedge-hypnotist]

Lettie Lith lost in trance

[stedfastasthou]

BASICS.

Full Name: Sophia Grisham, nee Kidd Nicknames: Soph, Harlot Skeleton: The Countess Titles: The Most Honble. Sophia, The Countess of Westhorpe                             OR             The Most Honble. The Dowager Countess of Westhorpe Cast Position: Royalty | Nobility | Gentry Birthdate:  November 7th, 1765 Birthplace: London

PHYSICALITY.

Height: 5’ (153 cm) Body Type: Petite, lithe, and slim, Sophia has never completely shaken the smallness of early malnutrition and underfeeding. Hair: A deep red-orange that leands more ginger than auburn, with a fair amount of natural curl to it. It is usually dressed up as properly suits her age, with twists and braids pinned into place and frequently decorated for formal occasions with silk ribbons or pearls. Eyes: Blue Skin: Pale, with old callouses and roughness long since smoothed away. She will freckle if she isn’t careful in the sun (thank goodness for the social requirements of constant hats and bonnets), and burn even quicker. Markings: A lifetime’s worth of small marks and scars and memories etched into skin of a life that wasn’t always easy and smooth. She has stretchmarks on her stomach from her pregnancy (but those would never be seen in any decent situation). Walking: Elegant and gliding when under the watching eye of Society, but more direct and practical when she is attending to business. Speech: Carefully studied, Sophia has long adopted the polished cadence of a proper society lady, light and warm. The near constant note of amusement is all her own, however, and Sophia is capable of dropping into the sort of street cant that was her birthright. Posture/Bearing: Sophia has exactingly perfect posture, and the ability to bring a sort of polished grace to coltish energy. It’s so carefully practiced as to seem utterly natural—but she can just as easily dissolve into chaotic energy with little trace of dignity and composure.

PERSONALITY.

Presentation: There is a perpetual air of vibrant amusement around Sophia-in-Society. Gaiety and brightness have defined her prescence in the ton—but with a restrained tone that makes her palatable to those who might recall her low class origins. Interactions:  A social chameleon, Sophia is at ease in nearly all situations. Large groups or small, strangers or old friends. Any discomfit or unease is rarely shown. She is an actress of arch professionalism and the whole world is her stage. Lures: Sophia will always have an enduring love for theatre (that society sees the theatre and opera more as opportunities to see and be seen than artistic performances to be enjoyed will always irk her—if you are in Sophia’s box at the theatre, expected to be hushed if you’re talking!). Otherwise, she is drawn to the quixotic, the things that stick out, are a little at odds with the smooth flow of Society. She loves an underdog and the less fortunate —but she isn’t easily taken in by a sob story. Temperament: Strong emotions are something Sophia keeps carefully under control. She can’t afford any such low class traits as over emotionality or coarse displays. She is controlled and in control. When she is not, she will retreat to privacy. Expect Sophia to stay slightly distant but not aloof, an observer as  much as a participant. Reputation: For one who was raised up from the harlot class, the former Miss Kidd has managed to carve out a decent chunk of respectability. She is well liked and accepted by all but the highest of sticklers in society, and known and loved for her entertaining parties.

HABITS.

Favorite Hours: Once a night owl, Sophia now deeply appreciates her mornings. They are so much a time for family, and that is very important to her. Punctuality: Unusually for Society, perhaps, she is a stickler for punctuality, and prefers to be early rather than late. Plus, it is a good way to avoid the notorious traffic jams before a ball or theatre performance, to get there before everyone else. Nervous Ticks: With how carefully and tightly controlled Sophia is in social situations, few nervous ticks are ever noticed. The ones that are permitted to manifest are largely rhythm based—a tapping foot, a rap of her fan against her hand, or maybe the hum of a song under her breath. Sleeping Style: Since the loss of her husband, Sophia sleeps drowning herself in a sea of pillows. They make the bed feel less empty.

EDUCATION.

School: Sophia never attended a formal school. Her mum taught her to read and write, though it wasn’t until she started to perform on stage that she really took to either. When she started to gain an income, she retained tutors for herself in all sorts of matters, with a determination to do well in her business that drove her to work hard to succeed. Known Languages: English, a conversational level of Italian and French, a smattering of German, Portuguese, and swearing in more languages than she can count. The loftier languages were for her further theatre education, and then to pass in Society. The swearing is from a lifetime as a street rat and association with sailors. Talents: A lovely singer and dancer in addition to an excellent actress, Sophia has never bothered to acquire many of the other ladylike accomplishments. She can play no instrument, her watercolours are always blobby, and she will always be a middling horse-woman at best; definitely no Letty Lade. Learning Style: She works best with a mixture of aural and social learning.

PHILOSOPHY.

Religion: Anglican, and she is perhaps more fastidiously observant than many who were placed in a vaulted social position by God. Superstitions: Sophia is a little too flippant to put too much stock in superstitions, though she dutifully abides by all sort of sea faring ones. Virtues: Justice (in her own world view) & Humility (she will never forget her own origins) Vices: Lust(At the very least by association) & Pride (why shouldn’t she be proud of what she has accomplished in life?)

RELATIONSHIPS.

Family: Aside from the obvious members of her family, her children, Sophia counts the sometimes ramshackle assortment of strays and misfits her husband collected over the years as part of her extended family. Among her servants and farm tenants, there are many who Charles have a position because they were too old for other service, or had proven themselves a hard worker out of look in some way. Sophia used to tease that she was just another one of Charles’ rescues. Friendships: Sophia has many friendships, but not many deep, intimate friends. Friendly to all, but usually on a guarded level. Those she does have are of long standing. Friends in Need: With a large capacity for empathy, Sophia will always do what she believes is best for her friends—even if it is not what they want in terms of hep. Needing a Friend: Infrequently and not without feeling indebted afterwards. Used to being independent and taking care of herself, asking for help is not something she is used to doing. Discord: Mockery and teasing, until it is turned back on her. Then she may resort to ignoring people outright. Enemies: Attacking her family

MOTIVATIONS.

Intentions: The Season is what is done. It is expected, and Sophia has a reputation to keep up, after all. Goals: Sophia has achieved so much more than she could ever hope for in life; she has known love, she has a beautiful family. She would be content with her life— Fears: —if not for the worry that someone may try to take it away from her. Regrets: Very little, if anything. Regrets are something Sophia has never seen a point in indulging in. What happened happened and cannot be changed. Breakthroughs: Good, reliable friends.

[queen18xo]

My first Thor/Loki Fic.

Make Me Yours.

Thor is making his way through the cold, drafty, metal halls of the Statesman when he spots Loki. Thor takes in his brothers form, the smaller mans shoulders drooping as his back leans against the wall, Thor see's some form of ancheint magical text placed precariously on his brothers slender thighs. He silently crouches down next to his slumbering brother, sliding a large palm to cup one of Loki's soft cheeks. "Loki." he whispers gently in a redundent attempt not to startle the younger man. Thor feels as Loki jumps a shiver running through him.

Loki startles awake to the feel of warm breath ghosting across his cheek. One of his slender hands wrapping firmly around the throat of whatever idiot thought it okay to sneak up on him. Loki steadys his breathing as he begins to calculate his next move when a voice suddenly breeaks through the haze of his barely awake mind. He knows that voice.

"Loki, let me go." Thor grumbles he knew he should've kept his gaurd up, sleeping or not Loki is a force to be rekoned with, and downright dangerous when startled. Thor feels Loki's body connect forcefully with his, the force knocking him from his feet. He looks up at his brother letting out a pained groan.

Loki removes his hand from his brothers throat his strong thighs now pinning the man to the ground. He places his warm palms to Thor's chest, discouraging him from moving as he sits a top Thor's crotch. "Can i help you brother?" Loki sneers still angry over being startled. His full, deep red lips pulling up into a smirk as he glances down at the position he has the mighty Thor in.

Thor sighs in frustration tired of the games his little brother insists on playing. Thor reaches his arms up to grip Loki's slender hips brusingly. "Loki do not act a fool. Release me, i will not ask again." Thor states Loki merely laughs, his breath mingiling intimately with Thor's, Loki's jet black hair falling from behind his ear to create a cutrain between them and the outside world as Loki presses his lithe body futher into Thors muscular one. "And what if i don't Thor?" Loki teases mischief glimmering in his striking emerald eyes.

Loki feels as Thor's hold on his hips tightens giving him only a second to realise exactly what Thor intended to do. Loki feels the air gush out of him as his brother uses his brute strength to buck Loki from his lap and onto the hard metal ground below him replicating Loki's earlier position. Thor smiles down winningly as Loki grumbles over his misfortune.

Thor finds himself entranced by the sight before him. Loki's slender form laid out below him. Head throw back, eyes closed, lips bitten red. Thor finds himself lost in his brothers flawless beauty and not for the first time. He pushes a stray stand of Loki's silky hair from his smooth, pale skin. Thor watches as Loki's eyes snap open at the gesture, his lips parted in a silent gasp. Thor swallows harshley suddenly nervous of the intimate position they have landed themselves in.

Loki watches as emotions flitter across his brothers face. Before Loki can speak his brother is pushing himself up from his postition above Loki. "Just stop falling asleep in the damn corridoors, dammnit Loki you have a room for a reason. use it." Thor snaps harshly before storming away, leaving his brother slack jawed behind him. Loki swiftly makes his exit, locking himself away in his chambers in an attempt to avoid his brother.

Loki loses track of time as he sits hunched over ancient tomes. Loki eventually clambers out of his seat, sulkily making his way toward his bathroom hoping to sink into a warm bath. once filled with hot water Loki sinks into the comforting liquid, letting it envelope him. He releases a content sigh as the stress and confusion of the day melt away. Tension easing from his body as his eyelids flutter shut and his breathing evens out the warmth of the water lulling him to sleep.

"You know brother you could drown." Thor states matter of factly watcing as his brother startles from his nap. Loki groans as his bleary eyes lock with Thors amused ones. Loki tries to level his brother with a harsh glare but finds himself to heavy with sleep to pull it off. Loki feels a rush of anger course through him. However he finds himself too tired toarue with Thor over the events from earlier that day.

"Does privacy mean nothing to you brother?" Loki slurs in his tired state Thor blushes embarressed his eyes dropping from Loki's face, which Thor is quick to realise was a monumetally bad idea as he finds himself staring at the full expanse of Loki's beautifully, flawless figure. His strong thighs, his slender almost femanine waist, his toned stomach, Thor is captivated by the pure beauty that he sees before him.

Loki clears his throat nervously trying to turn Thor's gaze away from his exposed body. Loki gasps in surprise as Thor's eyes meet his, Thors eyes swimming with heat and hunger. "Wash my hair brother?" Loki asks hoping to break the tension strung tight between them.

Thor nods being unable to deny his brothers request. Bathing together is something the brothers would do regularily in their youth however as they grew older and began to drift apart it became nothing more then a distant memory for the two. Thor feels his body taking an intrest as he begins to climb in behind his brother.

Thor sits stifly behind Loki unsure of where is safe to put his hands. He is sure that no part of his brothers sinful body would be safe for his curious hands. Eventually he grips Loki's delicate hips pulling him back so that his back is flush with Thors muscular torso. Thor watches as Loki throws his head back against his firm shoulder lips parting with a breahy moan. Thor find himself drawn to the pale expanse of Loki's exposed and vaulnerable neck, slowly lowering his nose to bury into the crook of it. he inhales the pure scent of his brother. Loki's hand shoots up to pull Thor's hair roughly. "B..brother what are you doing?" Loki asks practically panting, Thor feels his cock fully harden against is brothers toned back, Thor groans. The sounds of Loki's voice broken and panting when he has barely touch the younger man sends a familiar burning disire through him.

Thor smiles agasint Loki's neck "I do not wish to lose you brother, however i fear i cannot hide my true intentions from you any longer." Thor delights in the soft whimpers he coaxes from his brother mouth, his slim body shaking in his grip and he stokes slow, teasing circles into his pronounced hip bones. "I wish to see you fall apart in my hands brother." Thor states as he presses hungry kisses to Loki's neck. "I love you in a way i cannot in good mind call brotherly, i will not lose you again brother." Loki gasps as Thor's large hand moves to grip his throat in a firm hold, his other hand sliding down Loki's slippery form as it entangles itself within the dark black curls adorning his cock. "May i have you brother?" Thor asks nervously not wanting to lose his brother but no longer being able to hide the disire he has had for the younger man since they were old enough to understand what it was.

Loki nods "Y...yes brother, i would like nothing more." Loki states losing himself in the pleasure of his brothers touch. "Take me brother, make me yours." Loki adds thors large, rough hand gripping his cock giving it one swift tug before releasing. Loki whines, his hips desperately bucking upwards seeking friction.

"Easy brother, i will give you want you want but first i intend to lay you down and make love to you the way you deserve." Loki feels tears escaping his eyes as thor gently lays him on the bed. " I love you Lo, i think i always have and i am sure that i always will." Thor says scooping Loki up gently into his arms, placing soft kisses to the top of his head as manouvers them to Loki's bed effortlessly.

Thor looks admiringly at Loki as he is sprawled out over the plush bed covers. Thor drinks in the obscene sight before him, slowly inching closer until his body is pressed flush to his brothers. He slowly grinds his wet eraction against Loki's own setting a lazy pace as closer the distance between their lips. Loki moans as Thor's lips claim his in a passionate kiss. Loki pulls away meeting his brothers hungry gaze "Thor i've never done this before" Loki whispers taking his plump bottom lip between his teeth nervously. Afound smile graces Thor's lips as looks down at his brother lovingly wacthing as a beautiful shade of pink adornes his cheeks.

Thor strokes his hand delicately through Loki's long hair. "I'll be gentle, I'll take care of you Lo. I will always take care of you." he says sweetly before claiming his brothers lips with his own. He trails sweet kisses down Loki's body causing the younger man to moan sweetly. He pushes two large fingers to Loki's mouth. "Suck them for me baby." He instructs gently, Loki sucks them swiping his tongue between the two digits, releasing a moan as Thor takes his dick into one of his large hands stroking him gently.

Thor pulls his fingers from his brothers mouth circleing his hole teasingly before gently pushing one in. Loki gasps at the intrusion his body writhing with pleasure and his mind becoming foggy as his brother stretches him open. "Thor.. fuck. please." Loki whimpers desperate for his brother to fill him up.

Thor hovers over him lining his impressive cock up with Loki's hole pushing in carefully, Loki screws his eyes shut at the mix of pain and pleasure as his brother inches in slowly.

Cupping Loki's cheek gently as his cock becomes fully enveloped by his tight heat. "Look at me Lo, you're doing so well beautiful. So good for me." he whispers encouragingly, Loki whimpers at the praise.

"Please brother, please move." Thor smiles down at him warmly setting a gentle pace as he slowly rocks in and out of his brothers hole. Thor watches Loki as he loses himself in pleasure his head thrown back, his black hair flowing over the pillows. his mouth parted letting out sweet moans. Thor increases the speed until he is pounding into his brother roughly. "Thor, im so close... please." Loki begs as heat begins to pool in his belly, his orgasm fast approacing.

Thor pins his hands above his head, gripping at his hips bruisingly as he fucks into him at a punishing pace. "Come for me gorgeous, Come on my cock like a good boy." Loki whimpers, his legs wrapping tightly around Thor's back. "THOR" he screams out as his come paints his stomache. Thor not far behind releases into his bruther with a grunt.

Rolling them over to face eachother as he pulls out, he presses his lips gently to Loki's. "I love you Lo." he murmers pulling the other mans body to his. Loki strokes a loving hand down his brothers face smiling as he lets himself be pulled closer. "I love you brother." he replies burrying his face into Thor's warm chest both brothers losing themselves to a peaceful sleep.

[hannahmcne]

Our Town Too - Chapter One, a Greatest Showman Fic.

There were lights. There was color. There was sound.

Charlie spun on the ropes that hung down around the arena for the trapeze artists and aerialists(like himself) to hang onto. The crowd shouted and screamed as he faked a miss of the rope and dove towards the ground. Five dancers spun back around in perfect formation to catch him just before he hit the ground and to launch him back into the air with a mighty heave. He rocketed back into the air and snatched the rope as the audience screamed. Far down below, the two honorary 'Barnum boys', Adam and Fredrick, were breathing fire as his cousin Emma Wheeler and her little, white, half-brother Dan performed cartwheels and back handsprings with long, colorful streamers attached to their wrists and ankles. They looked like a colorful wind rushing through the audience.

The crowd pounded their boots against the stands and screamed the words along with the singers down below: "This is the greatest show!" They echoed.

Down below, the dancers dispersed as a mass character change occurred. Charlie spotted his dad rushing on from offstage in his red coattails, sliding in the sawdust and popping up onto his feet, all the while twirling his baton around his head. Lettie Lutz, the bearded lady, took up the center, but Phillip Carlyle remained the center of attention as he led the crew through the lighting cues, the music cues, and pieced together the show's finale.

Charlie lowered himself onto the ground and dropped to the sawdust in a perfect split before he joined the circus members in kicking up dust and drawing sweat, pounding the floor and showing the audience what a real good time looked like. As their closing number drew to a close, he turned and sprinted with the others to the center of the stage and watched a lithe, dark-skinned woman drop out of the sky and land next to Phillip, just in time.

Only the eldest four of the five Carlyle children were of performing age. The youngest was backstage with Helen Barnum. Three children of various skin shades gathered around Phillip and Anne, but Charlie didn't join them. He knew the rest of the circus's eyes was on him, but this wasn't the first time he hadn't joined his family for bows.

Carlie Carlyle was eighteen years old and the oldest of five children. The youngest was barely a year old. He was the only child with his dad's pale looks which, trust him, was absolutely horrible. All his life, there had been double-takes, there had been questions, there had been people frowned when they looked from him to his parents for the first time and realized that no, this kid with manners and education was not 100% white. Charlie could tell you for a fact that there was nothing worse than someone looking between him and his parents and then backing away slowly. He'd lost friends, he'd lost acquaintances, and he'd made a whole lot of enemies by simply existing.

Phillip kissed Anne, and the lights went out up above as someone drew a damper over the reflector that kept the tent lit. Then, they brightened and the circus patrons split to go an either remove costumes or show customers out of the tent. Charlie felt his little brothers and sister's eyes on him as he walked backstage, carefully undoing his wrist bindings.

Charlie found a quiet corner and a soft bale of hay to set his foot upon as he worked the knots around his ankles, undoing bright blue tape. that was there to help the audience catch onto his movements easier and to protect his joints from being pulled out of their sockets. His pale skin was red under the bindings, but it would be better within a few minutes, just like it always was. He must have just put it on a bit too tight tonight, he thought as he rubbed the joint.

Heavy footsteps fell behind him, and Charlie didn't need to look up to know who it was. "Dad." He greeted as he switched feet and began undoing the other binding. Phillip Carlyle was removing his red coat behind him. He dropped it onto the bale of hay and sat down.

"You did well out there tonight," Phillip complimented him with a tight smile. There were permanent smile wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, and the corners of his eyes had gone leathery with age.

"I always do good." Charlie rolled his eyes and scoffed. He began to roll the bindings up to be used tomorrow night.

"You do." Phillip acknowledged softly as he watched Charlie work. "Your mother and I are a bit worried about all that, actually. You've been working really hard lately. We miss having you around."

"Look-" Charlie huffed, undoing the first few buttons on his bright blue costume and turning to give his dad an exasperated look. "If this is about the whole bows thing, Phillip, it's nothing. I'm just – getting older. Parents aren't cool anymore." He tried to laugh the whole thing off with his hands in the air while not showing how annoyed he was with the whole conversation.

"Family is important, Charlie." Phillip sighed as his son began to stalk off toward the dressing area. "If you were a little older, if you'd known the circus before, you'd understand that. Back when the circus started, most of us had no one."

"Whatever, dad," Charlie grumbled, quickly weaving his way through the props and the equipment that had been left off-stage. He kicked up some straw into a pile of dung that the zebras had left and went to go and do checks on the ropes for the trapeze artists since it was his night tonight. As he came around the bend, an arm snaked out and grabbed around his waist. He was spun sideways into a dark room and found himself staring into a pair of bright blue eyes.

"Hello, handsome." Mireille smiled as she put her arms around Charlie's neck. Charlie smiled and bent forward to press a kiss against Mireille's forehead, missing her pretty dark brown curls by a few inches.

"Hi, Mireille." He whispered, carefully putting space between them, because she was a lady, and this was how ladies are to be treated. "You did great out there tonight."

Mireille was one of the earlier acts, so she had already changed back into her plainclothes. Blue glitter remained smudged around her eyes and a pretty pink color rested on her lips, the only marks of what had identified her as one of Barnum's employees.

"You too." Mireille complimented him. Her smile had faded somewhat. "I saw you didn't go stand by the rest of your family again."

Charlie groaned and let her go. He turned away, shaking his head. "Not you too." He complained. He pulled up a chair hiding in the shadows and sat down.

"That's the ninth time." Mireille frowned. "You're perfectly fine when you're alone with everyone, why are the crowds so different?" She sat down on a wooden chest that was filled with extra costumes beside him.

"It's not about the crowds." Charlie defended himself. "Just Phillip and Anne-"

"What's with this Phillip business?" Mireille wrinkled her nose. "He's your dad, not your coworker."

"Technically, he's both." Charlie disagreed.

"Technically, he'd be your boss, not your coworker. He owns fifty percent of the show." Mireille reprimanded him. She set a hand down on his forearm and squeezed. "Is this about the whole mixed-race thing?"

"No!" Charlie exclaimed defensively, wrapping his arms around himself like a shield from her words.

"Because, trust me," Mireille continued, "You're not mixed race."

"I'm one-fourth black." Charlie furrowed his brow. "There's not much else to it."

"Okay, so maybe you are mixed-race." Mireille acknowledged with an eye-roll as she crossed her ankles delicately. "But really, why does it matter so much to you? It's where you came from. And you look white anyway. You're not like your mom or siblings. They actually look mixed. By all means, you blend right in." Mireille laughed a little in thought and skootched closer to him. "So, you don't want to go bow with your family in front of all your darker-skinned siblings because you don't want people to know you're mixed race? I still go and bow with my mom, Charlie."

"Don't compare you to me," Charlie said angrily. "Your situation and my situation are very different. For one, your mom is an act, not the ringmaster. Of course, she's a famous act, but an act all the same. Your mom and uncle weren't ever runaway slaves. And you and I were brought into the world on very different scandals. Being a bar sinister is not the same as being a hybrid." He stood up and began to stalk away, again. He seemed to be doing that a lot these days.

"Hybrid? You've been reading the Herald again." Mireille frowned as she stood up and followed him. She wasn't like Phillip, Mireille was. She knew how to pick fights with him. Phillip had never really exerted control over Charlie; he'd only pulled him aside to explain the principles of things to him as he got older. Charlie didn't step out of line much, so Phillip didn't have to chuck out very much advice.

"So what if I have?" Charlie snapped back to his girlfriend, stepping into the now-empty ring. All the guests had been ushered out and people had gone to turn in for the night. He pulled the lever that released the coiled ropes from above, even though now he'd have to make the journey all the way up top to re-coil them after he checked his own portion of the trapeze equipment. "It's good to be informed." He claimed as he coiled a rope around his fist and began to climb, hand over hand.

"You know that Mr. Bennett takes particular joy in ridiculing us." Mireille frowned. She couldn't follow him up the ropes, being in her dress. "Maybe it's good to be informed, but if you only fill your mind with criticism, there won't be any room for discussion on the other side."

"Desegregated, uneducated aberrations." Charlie recited, focusing on the top of the tent. "You know that's what they call us? And you know what else?

"I don't-" Mireille started before Charlie interrupted her as he swung back and forth between two ropes above her head.

"An archaic clan of grotesques who seem to be consistently interbreeding and spreading their egregious tropes throughout the honorable members of our lower-class societies." Charlie narrated.

Mirelle snorted. "That's the first time I've ever heard 'honorable' attributed to 'lower-class'." She commented, crossing her arms as Charlie tangled his legs in the rope and flipped his body upside down. "And I was going to say I don't need to hear any of that because I know it's not true." She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and straightened her spine. "I have talent, like everyone else here. We're modern, and accepting, and free. Don't you want freedom, Charlie?" Her boyfriend twisted his legs into the rope and hung upside down, on eye-level with her as he started to recite again, even louder.

"Their uncommon traditions even extend to the leadership of the Barnum business, as expressed by the miscegenous relationship practiced by Barnum's business partner." Charlie hissed. "Do you know who they're talking about? Those are my parents, Mireille. People don't talk about your mom and her one daughter, who is one of society's prettiest people since Jenny Lind came to tour, like they do my dad, the white man who married a mulatto woman in an unratified, taboo ceremony and proceeded to have five bicultural children." Charlie untangled himself as his face began to turn purple and gently let himself down from the ropes. Mireille watched his curly hair in the light as he wiped sweat off his brow and began to tie two ropes into a square knot so that he could swing on them.

"You're full of big words tonight." Mireille frowned.

"Biracial." Charlie scowled. "Multi-circumferential. Desegregated. Mixed race. Mulatto."

"Imagine if your mother heard you say that." Mireille scolded. "Can you imagine how that'd hurt her so?"

Charlie's expression softened. "I know." He sighed. "I love my mom, I do. But I just… want to make my own name away from theirs." His shoulders slumped.

"Well, how much money do you need for university?" Mireille asked. "I know that's what you've been doing all the extra acts and working outside Barnum's Circus for."

"I'm so close." Charlie groaned as he untied the knots and gave the ropes a tug. "And yet so far. What well-respecting college will let in a man whose mom ran from slavery as an illegitimate, mixed-race child?"

"It doesn't matter." Mireille rolled her eyes. "You're smart, you're a hard worker, and you don't look black. They'll let you in."

"And kick me right back out when my family shows up to see me for the first time." Charlie despaired.

"Take them to court," Mireille advised. "Or, just go to Brea College." Brea college had been founded after the Civil War ended, ten years before Barnum's first circus had burnt to the ground. It was the first college in the south to be racially integrated. Brea was where Mireille wanted to go for college because, on top of allowing both blacks and whites, they also allowed for boys and girls.

"Frankly, I think you're making this out to be a lot harder than it is." Mireille continued. "You can't change where you come from and if your parents hadn't fallen in love, you wouldn't be here, so you might as well not resent them for it. That's the whole point of the circus; respecting where people come from and learning to find family in what makes us different."

"The circus was a money-maker for Barnum." Charlie rolled his eyes.

"And our parents made it into a refuge." Mireille smiled and stepped forward, resting a hand on Charlie's upper arm. "Phillip Carlyle, Anne and WD Wheeler. Lettie Lutz." Mireille kissed Charlie on the cheek. "We came together here and made it so that we didn't have to hide from society anymore. It's a beautiful thing; I don't know why you're so anxious to hide where you came from, even if everyone already knows." Charlie stiffened, and Mireille's smile faded. "Your parents won't be here forever, so you should respect them while they are. Besides, we can live in a world that we design."

Charlie chuckled at the reference to Barnum's song, but Mireille didn't stop there. She loved to sing. "I close my eyes, and I can see." She whispered, batting her long eyelashes at Charlie. Charlie laughed as closed his eyes, wrapping one fist around a rope as he put an arm carefully around her waist. "A world that's waiting up for me… That I call, my own."

Mireille had inherited the brightest, clearest pair of pipes anyone had ever heard from her mother, Lettie. Barnum had wanted to organize a tour the likes of which had traveled with Jenny Lind, but Lettie had kept a tight hold on her baby girl and told Barnum not to approach her until she was at least eighteen. Since then, Mireille had only gotten better and better. One of her dreams was to meet Jenny Lind and see how she compared to the Swedish Nightingale.

"Through the dark, through the doors, through where no one's been before. But it feels like home." Mireille leaned her head onto Charlie's shoulder, and Charlie gave the rope a sharp jerk. He heard a sandbag slip off the rafters up above the same moment he felt his hand launch away from his arm. Mireille gave a little shriek and curled her legs up under her dress as the took to the skies. Charlie laughed.

The sounds of four kids hitting the sawdust hit their ears. Mireille and Charlie's head whipped around to see Adam, Frances, Fredrick, and Emma rushing to the ropes in laughter. The four kids snatched up the ropes and began to swing through each other in a dazingly familiar pattern. Charlie let Mireille fall half-way and watched their combined momentum pull them down enough for him to set her on the ground before he launched up into the air.

"They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy." Mireille sang from the ground, letting her high soprano voice bounce off the walls of the tent and carry back. She stood in the center of the circle and watched the five people above her spin circles. "They can say, they can say we've lost our minds." She laughed as Emma switched over to Fredrick's rope, and the two of them began spinning in dizzy circles around each other, arms outstretched like they were flying together. "I don't care, I don't care if they call us crazy. We can live in a world that we design."

Frances and Adam hit the floor and began a hypnotizing dance while they sang along to the Barnum's song. Adam was Caroline's first son. He had caramel locks and brown eyes, like Barnum. Helen still hadn't married, so he had no cousins, but he found many friends in the circus. Even though he was only fifteen, it was blindingly clear that he and Frances had something special between them. This worried Charlie because Francis was his little sister. She was fourteen, with skin like her mother and waist-long locks in the same shade as her dad's. Charlie was the only person in the family who had actually inherited his dad's skin. When they stood together, people thought she was the oldest child because of how different he looked from each of his siblings.

"Cause every night I lie in bed and the brightest colors fill my head." Mireille and Adam sang as Frances rolled over Adam's back, caught his hand, and spun straight into his grasp. "A million dreams are keeping me awake."

Charlie flew up to the supports of the tent and rested from his flight. He watched Emma and Fredrick spin around each other in tantalizing patterns. Emma was his cousin; WD's daughter. After WD had gained a stable income, he'd brought his wife up to live in New York with them. Sarah Wheeler had, unfortunately, suffered an attack by a white man that left her pregnant with a child that was not WD's. Still, they raised the white-skinned child in their family surrounded by all the little black ones like nothing had ever gone wrong. Emma was, of all her siblings, closest to Dan because the two older ones had grown up and moved away. Fredrick was Adam's brother, Caroline's younger son. He had a goofy smile and freckles and loved the circus more than anything in the entire world. Charlie could see him growing up, falling in love with Emma, and raising a family here, just like his parents had.

Down below, Mireille continued to sing soprano with pretty chords that made Charlie's ears feel like they were being given a massage. "I think of what the world could be; a vision of the one I see. A million dreams is all its gonna take."

Charlie found himself mouthing the words: "A million dreams for the world we're gonna make."

A million dreams. A million thoughts. A million colors. He had all that, somewhere inside his head. He had something that none of his siblings or friends could understand. A drive to prove himself. A drive to be something. More than a backup dancer or an aerialist. More than Phillip and Anne's little boy and more than the son of a mixed-race woman. If he could get to college, work hard and strike out on his own, he could make it. He could be a businessman; an overseer of factories. Maybe he could move to Pittsburg. That's where all the big names were making it big. He could work in rubber; rubber was big right now. Or maybe textiles, since textiles would never go out. So long as he could stay on top of designing new patterns and colors, he'd have a business. And since he'd grown up here, maybe he and Barnum could become partners and he could supply the circus with costume materials, and everyone would see that he'd done it. He'd made it big.

Far down below, Adam switched the hand he was holding Francis's with. She gave him a smile and twirled into a pretty dip, with her black hair hitting the floor just like Uncle Phillip had taught him how to do back before he'd realized the young man would use his tricks to sweep his daughter off her feet. His heart was racing, and his ears felt warm as his cheeks took on a pink color. If his mom saw him now, dancing with the pretty black girl and holding her hand and not caring at all that he was getting all covered in sawdust and sweat, she'd scold him. Caroline, after her years of being a prima ballerina, had learned to respect the circus for providing for her education. She spoke kindly with the performers and let her children play with their children. But she didn't want her kids to grow up and intermarry with the circus workers. It would be best, she had decided, to take separate paths. But Adam loved the thrill of the circus. He loved the screams of the crowd and the costumes and the life and light of the performers. And he loved the feeling he got when he glimpsed Francis's bright smile as she bowed with her parents, danced in the light, and let her wings spread.

"There's a house we can build… every room inside is filled. With things from far away." Mireille sighed happily as she watched Charlie reappear from the rafters above Fredrick and Emma, who were spinning in dizzy circles around each other. Fredrick was trying to show off. He swung close to the pillars and began to sprint across the vertical beams that supported the tent.

Charlie swung his legs up and around the rope and split center stage, whirling to the bottom as the rope coiled around his waist and rolled him, arm over arm, to the floor, where Mireille was waiting with a small smile. "Special things I compile… each one there to make you smile." Charlie walked forward and rested his hand on Mireille's cheek. She leaned into him with an even brighter smile. "On a rainy day."

Adam and Francis jumped to the ropes again and began to pull themselves up, hand over hand. Their arms were strong from years of practice.

"They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy," Mireille whispered as she leaned up, lifted a foot off the ground, and leaned into her boyfriend's frame. The two pressed their foreheads together. "They can say, they can say we've lost our minds."

Charlie released the rope and curled both his strong, calloused hands into Mireille's thick, curly brown locks. Both of them failed to notice the crucial scene happening above their heads.

Fredrick, who was still chasing his rope around the circumference of the tent supports, felt the rope that was holding him dead center snag on something along the center. It snapped him back, and he fell to the beams. The rope swung out of reach as Fredrick's head slammed into the wooden beam. He barely managed to dig his fingers into the wood to keep from falling to his death as his vision went black. Emma swung towards him and helped him sit back up. His nose had been crushed, and a stream of blood had started to run from both nostrils. The two quickly tried to stifle the blood, and neither noticed as a single sprinkle of blood fell from his nose, past the wood supports he was trying to keep from falling off of and hit the floor of the stage.

The world started spinning; even more so for Fredrick. Only Charlie and Mireille failed to notice as she sang with her hands twisting the back of Charlie's costume with a bright smile upon her lips. But around them, things seemed to be shifting. Lavender mist rose up from the ground, and the fabric walls were replaced with sturdy brick and wrought iron. The smell of things old and stuffed replaced the smell of animals and sweat and rum.

"Run away to a world that we design!" Mireille let out a breath, and she and Charlie moved in synchronously for a quick kiss. Before their lips could touch, however, a man's loud belt of a singing voice came from the rafters.

"Every night I lie in bed." A man with neat hair, a top hat, and a brown vest called as he walked down a flight of stairs that had suddenly appeared where ladders had been posted. What had previously been the supports to the trapeze equipment and the tent was now a circular walkway surrounding a stage circle smaller than any of the ones the kids had ever seen before in their lives. He twirled a baton in his hands as he descended the steps with a bright smile. "The brightest colors fill my head; a million dreams are keeping me awake."

Adam and Francis hit the floor again, hand in hand. "Grandpa?" Adam whispered.

It took Adam's words for Charlie to put together what he was seeing. PT Barnum, at least twenty years younger than Charlie had ever seen him, was walking across the sawdust towards them. He stopped and stared at him, examining each of the kids. Charlie was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him as he looked at the stage, the rafters, the solid roof above their heads. They were in a building the likes of which Barnum hadn't owned since… the fire of 1865.

Mireille detached from Charlie and covered her mouth in blatant surprise. Fredrick and Emma carefully climbed down, with Fredrick still trying to stay the stream of blood gushing out of his nose. Barnum pulled a white kerchief out of his pocket and handed it to the lad as he frowned at the kids. Charlie stiffened.

"You know my song," Barnum said in a curious tone. "We don't sing that here at the American Museum. Where did you hear it? You seem to know every line."

"A-ha!" Mireille squeaked. She latched onto Charlie's arm and squeezed. Adam swallowed thickly and he and Fredrick exchanged cautious bewildered glances.

Charlie cleared his throat. "Ah, our parents used to sing it to us. Must be a coincidence that's it's your song." He chuckled nervously.

"My wife and I wrote it," Barnum said in a flat tone. While he had originally appeared pleased, he seemed a bit upset at their surprise and the way they were shifting their feet. He crossed his arms. "Performances are over for today as well. You're trespassing on personal property. What are you doing in my stage room?"

"Trespassing?" Adam squeaked.

"American museum?" Charlie whispered. His mind started to work at a million miles an hour. Old building… young Barnum… dated name. Holy crap.

"Are you going to give me an answer, or do I have to call the police?" Barnum growled. "Did one of my performers let you in?"

"No!" Mireille exclaimed. "We just, uh, were here after the show and we really admire the Barnum Circus and we don't mean to trespass and…" She trailed off, looking desperate to add something, anything onto the end of her statement.

"Circus?" Phineas Barnum frowned like he was contemplating the name, but he quickly brushed his thoughts aside.

"We'd like to audition!" Charlie blurted out. Mireille, Adam, Francis, Fredrick, and Emma all shot him panicked looks. "That's right, we want to be a part of the show. We know all the steps, all of the choreography. Look, Francis, Emma, and I made our own costumes in advance, and when Mireille, Adam, and Fredrick heard what we were doing, they decided to come with and see if you'd give us a chance because…" He trailed off, suddenly doubtful of his own plan.

"Because we're tired of hiding in the dark," Mireille added, looking relieved. "But you'd already closed auditions, so we decided to try and catch you after hours. We waited in the stands after the show today and hoped we'd be able to catch you, but we never saw you alone, so we've just been waiting all this time, hoping you'll give us a chance."

Charlie watched the surprise flicker over Barnum's face and swallowed. He hoped Barnum would buy it, otherwise, they'd be out on the streets in, if he was correct, 1864. He also hoped everything Mireille was saying was true because he didn't know for the life of him when Barnum had officially closed auditions, when shows had started, or even if Barnum had had a show at all today. If it were Sunday, the circus would be closed. Sure, he was wearing his red coat, but if Barnum picked a single lie out, they'd be on the streets in seconds. Charlie balled his fists up as beads of sweat appeared in his palm.

"You say you know every line, all the choreography?" Barnum asked.

"Yes!" Emma blurted out beside Fredrick, who was still dabbing at his nose. "We're massive fans."

Barnum stroked his chin and considered their words. Finally, he nodded. "I've got room for a few more acts." He nodded. "But I don't want to take in people who are behind. If you can dance our closing act properly, I'll let you stay in and board with the other performers."

Charlie let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as Mireille looked up at him nervously. "The closing act?" She clarified. "The Greatest Show number, right?"

"Yes." Barnum nodded. "You do know it, right?" He gave Mireille a scrutinizing look, examining her long sleeves and the long skirt to her plainclothes.

"Of course," Mireille said in a high-pitched voice. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Charlie, begging him for help.

Barnum crossed his arms and examined them all. "Would you like me to call in some of the dancers to help guide you through it?" He asked softly.

Mireille relaxed instantly, and Charlie nodded gravely. "Yes, please sir." Fredrick squeaked as he finally managed to clot the blood streaming out of his nose. "We're not used to doing it under scrutiny; you'll have to excuse our nervousness." He tried to rub his red hands on the handkerchief, and then held it in a palm, unsure of whether or not he should hand it back to Barnum. Barnum held out his hand, and a blushing Fredrick placed the bloodied rag in the older man's hand.

"There's a water spigot out back," Barnum advised them. "Run and wash up, and I'll fetch a few of the dancers." He turned and headed back up the stairs. The four older kids came together in a close circle as Emma and Fredrick sprinted to find the water spigot before Barnum came back.

"What are we going to do?" Francis hissed, mostly directing her question at Charlie, the oldest.

"That's not what you should be asking." Adam frowned, standing erect and straight. "How are we here?" His feet shuffled in the sawdust from first, to second, to third and fourth, and finally the fifth position, before shifting back around again. He and Fredrick were trained in ballet and walked with the posture as such. Meanwhile, Francis and Charlie were used to extending their limbs to make them seem larger than life, throwing out their chests, and holding tension in every movement. Acrobats.

"Charlie." Mireille yanked on his arm. Her eyes were wide with panic. "I don't dance. I'm the glorifying entertainment, remember? I open the show and soothe the audiences, so they never see what's coming next."

"You'll have to." Charlie shook his head. "It's not hard. It's just the same routines we've been doing the last few years. Just remember: there's less of us, so we'll need to be loud to have a similar effect." He rubbed his clammy hands on his pants as Emma and Fredrick came sprinting back. Fredrick was soaked to the bone and shivering, but clean aside from a smudge on his shirt.

A sudden thought struck Charlie. "Dear God." He whispered. "What if someone recognizes us?"

"Not recognizes us," Mireille corrected. "The circus is still called the museum. It hasn't been called that since the very, very beginning. We don't exist here. But if anyone comments on how similar we look to, say, Phillip Carlyle-" She gave Charlie a stern look as a vein throbbed in his head. "-things could get messy."

"I think you're safe," Francis said in a somewhat snobbish tone. "Your face is clean. No one will draw the similarities to Lettie Lutz without her famous beard."

"She's slim, too." Adam nodded. "But the rest of us – we all look like someone. If Fredrick or I even stand close to Barnum for too long, people start pointing out things all the time. Too many questions and-" He shrugged helplessly.

"This is insane," Emma whispered, pressing a hand to her head. "What if he only decides to hire some of us?"

"We need to stick together," Mireille said firmly. "As much as possible, until we figure out what is going on." Her dark eyes flickered over Charlie. "But here's a problem; he's going to ask our full names. Two Carlyles, a Lutz and a Wheeler all in the same place will be suspicious. At least the Thompson's are safe – there are lots of those." Adam and Fredrick nodded in agreement.

"Well, maybe Charlie and I can use Grandma's last name. Wasn't it-" Francis started.

"Wait!" Charlie interrupted her. An idea was quickly forming in his head. "I can go by my middle. That's what I'll do. Charlie Mason. That sounds distinguished, doesn't it?" He looked around for approval. "But Francis..." He trailed off, biting his lip. This was his chance to truly sever his ties with his history and begin a life by himself, as Charlie Mason. But if Francis took the same last name as him... Charlie scrambled to come up with a passable reason Francis shouldn't have the same last name as him. "Francis, won't it be suspicious if, since you look so much like Mom and I look so much like Phillip, that we have the same last name? You can go by Hall, Grandma Wheeler's maiden name, and I'll stick with Mason."

Francis's expression grew stormy and hurt. "What?" She asked. "You want to pretend we're not related?"

"Charlie-" Mireille sounded scandalized as she opened her mouth to protest. Adam, Emma, and Fredrick all looked equally uncomfortable.

"Are you ready?" A gruff tone asked from the second floor. The six children snapped their heads up to stare as Barnum descended to the circle with around seven different dancers behind him in their plain clothes. There was the woman in gold, the Russian knife- throwers, the tattooed man, and others. Not Lettie, nor Anne, nor W.D. were among them.

Francis broke off of the group with a stormy expression. She turned a cold shoulder to Charlie and addressed Barnum. "Yes, we are." She proclaimed. "I'll be substituting as ringmaster. Can I borrow a baton?"

The tattooed man and one of the throwers looked to Barnum. Charlie wasn't sure why. Barnum had shared the role of ringmaster equally with Phillip in the early days. It wasn't like it was unique for Barnum to not be leading them through the moves. Barnum's mouth straightened into a line, and then he tossed his cane down towards the sawdust. Francis caught it and planted her feet in the sawdust. "Charlie, Mireille, and Fredrick are going to take stage left in standard positions. Adam and Emma will be on stage right. Can you please come down to where you'd normally be so we can space ourselves accordingly? We haven't exactly had the opportunity to perform in the ring before."

Charlie felt a surge of pride for his little sister's professional attitude before he looked up. The performer's eyes were on him, looking at the wave of his hair and the slope of his spine. He straightened up. They might have known Charlie Carlyle all his life, but Charlie Mason was someone different. He could stand out in his professionalism and in the way that he held himself. Immediately, they looked away, and Charlie knew they'd realized he was someone comfortable in popularity and wealth – just the person he wanted to be seen as.

The performers took their places in staggered windows on the stage. Francis exchanged an uncomfortable look with Mireille and Adam, and Charlie could clearly see why. This was Barnum's original choreography, which had been mostly abandoned and revamped since the museum opened. Panic welled up inside Charlie. He hadn't danced this in at least seven years – since he'd been nine. He'd only seen it occasionally performed by the original members. He closed his eyes and prayed – prayed hard that they remembered it, prayed hard that they'd be good enough to get in.

There was no music. No movement ques other than Francis's baton, which he wouldn't be able to see all the time. Charlie swallowed, and looked at Emma and Adam, across the way. Then, before they could start, he slowly moved out of formation and went to the side of the ring.

"What are you doing, young man?" Barnum barked from up above.

Charlie walked to the stands and found, similar to in the circus tent, ropes bound in figure eights to the posts of the room. Trapeze equipment. He unloosed it and held the end up to his friends. Emma breathed a sigh of relief and left her position to help him unravel it and drag it into the arena. She took it from him since they both knew she was the better trapeze artist. Above them, Barnum stood stone-faced as he watched Emma take a new place on stage. Adam, too, found a second rope and navigated it into place from the ground. Everyone heard the clicks of safeguards locking into place as they pulled the trapeze equipment into place. Emma and Adam stood staggered center from Emma with the ropes coiled around their hands.

"I'll be substituting for Anne Wheeler," Emma announced.

"And I'll stand in for W.D Wheeler." Adam choked.

The performers exchanged looks. One of the throwers shook her head. "Don't bite off more than you can chew."

Charlie frowned. "We've all been trained with trapeze." He explained quickly. Mireille sent him an alarmed look, and Charlie had to quickly backtrack. "We… trained ourselves based on what we saw you guys doing." He said slowly. Barnum's brow furrowed, but he didn't say anything. "And we're quite good," Charlie added. He gave the rope a sharp tug and heard something slip and lock into place above his head. He left the rope in Emma's capable hands and returned to his spot onstage. He nodded to Francis. "On your count." He whispered.

Francis stared at him for a few seconds. He felt like her eyes were boring into his skull and making his hair stand up on end. Then she turned and put her head down, planted her feet, and dug the tip of the baton in at an angle. "Ladies and Gents." She announced in a booming tone that made it seem as if she'd taken on an ethereal state. "This is the moment you've been waiting for."

The background members all leaped in to complete the background noise and Charlie felt himself entering performance mode as he threw everything he had into the dance. Maybe he was rusty. Maybe they did this specific routine once every six months to a year and he himself didn't usually participate. But by god, he had grown up dancing and he would dance himself into a grave before he let them all be thrown out into the streets.

Francis introduced lighting and music cues like a pro, lowering her voice to hit all those reverberating notes just right. "And buried in your bones there's an ache that you can't ignore. It's taking your breath; stealing your mind. And all that was real is left behind…"

Emma and Adam shot into the air spinning so fast Emma's hair whipped around and coiled around her neck as she went. They were good enough that no one could spot the differences to Anne or WD if the two originals weren't performing side-by-side. It was the perks of going up in Barnum's Circus. Up in the air, even in their plainclothes (Or, in Adam's case, his white shirt), they looked like they were made of strength and color.

"Don't fight it, it's coming for you, running at you. It's only this moment, don't care what comes after." Francis doubled back through the ring to present the Russian Knife Throwers and then gestured to where the albino twins usually were, even though they weren't currently present. Charlie saw Barnum pull an impressed face at her memory and skill before, on the same beat, every single member of the cast dropped to the sawdust and broke into dance. He used his legs to pull himself into a crab position before jumping his hands back and forth, and then rolling up so he could stop towards Francis with the others as she pretended to drag her fingers along the brim of her hat perfectly.

Charlie could say a lot about his sister. Aside from how she looked nothing like him and how she fell in love way too easily(he was the same way), he could talk for days about how annoying it was that she only ever wanted to do the role of ringmaster and never wanted to be a back-up dancer. He could go on and on about how she was a horrible cook and a horrible seamstress and complain until he was blue about how she was always correcting his dancing and trapeze. But by god, he could never say his little sister didn't have talent. She had the flare and the technique and the confidence to truly shine in Barnum's circus, and this became evident as she sped up on her feet, dancing around the ring on her toes, drawing Barnum's attention from their dancing, to their acts, to Adam and Emma soaring through the sky. It was incredible.

As they neared the third chorus, Charlie had a horrible thought occur to him. It had always been during the third chorus that Barnum had left the stage to flip roles with Phillip, who would rush in to finish the last part of the dance before dropping his mom into a kiss. Charlie watched Francis and realized she was anxiously looking up to the railing, wondering if she should leave or not. Truth be told, they're never actually done this routine without switching ring masters halfway through, but there wasn't a ringmaster in sight.

Fredrick zoomed past him in formation as Francis paused, gave a wild look around to the other kids, and froze. Charlie immediately dropped out of formation and circled around the stage. She watched him with a hard look but ran off to meet him.

Immediately, they knew there was a mistake. Barnum frowned down on them with pinched lips and a couple of the performers broke character to send each other bewildered looks as Francis handed the baton to Charlie and then rushed to take up his role of back-up dancing. As the performers staggered to the outskirts of the circle, Charlie dashed back in, skidding on the ground in a little 360' circle before popping to his feet. It was a trick he'd been able to do since he was six.

Charlie imagined he was PT Barnum, rich enough to buy his wife and daughters whatever they wanted, to bring Jenny Lind to America and to create a business that literally no one got tired of. He imagined he was wealthy and important, and notable, and his chest swelled with his imagined pride. He threw the baton out and put every muscle he had behind his dancing. No matter that he'd finished a show not even an hour ago. No matter that he had literally no idea what was going on or how he got here. He was here to prove himself.

'Look at me,' he demanded an imaginary crowd in his thoughts. 'Watch what I can do. Look at how important I am. I'm going to prove just what I can be, and no one will ever judge me for being Anne and Phillip's son again.'

They struck endpose, with Adam and Emma even tangling themselves up in the ropes to do a complicated in-air pose. Charlie caught Mireille's hand just like Phillip always caught Anne's, and he spun her into his arms. She couldn't stop a smile and leaned up to kiss his cheek before the rest of the performers dropped their pose and stretched their arms out a bit.

"Who!" The tattooed man exhaled. "I don't think we've practiced that hard since we first learned that routine."

"No kidding." The eldest albino twin smiled. "You kids sure have talent." She looked up to Barnum. "What do you think, Barnum?" She called.

Barnum nodded and looked away with a bright smile before he schooled his features. "Not bad!" He called. He hardened his face a little and squinted into the midst. "You, the darker girl who was the ringmaster, what's your name?" He called.

Francis took a few steps forward. Her expression had gone dark again. She glanced at Charlie, who nodded encouragingly. This only seemed to make her madder, though Charlie didn't understand why. It would only be more suspicious if they had different skin tones and the same last names. It was better to not be related, and that way he would be able to make up whatever backstory he wanted. He could be the orphan son of two English merchants who had been taken in by his uncle and raised until his uncle had passed away and he'd been forced to live on the streets. Or he could be from the south, brought north by the factory rush. The possibilities were endless.

"Francis Harper Hall," Francis announced, dejectedly. "You can call me Francis or Fran."

"Francis." Barnum decided. "What were you doing, leaving in the middle of the show?"

Francis seemed stunned by the question. She took a half-step back and glanced nervously over her shoulder. Mireille, Adam, Emma, and Fredrick were all equally stunned by this question. They couldn't remember a single time they hadn't switched ringmasters during chorus three. But something told Charlie they'd misinterpreted something. He looked up to Barnum and tried to adopt a bit of a distinguished accent as he spoke. "I know the last part a tad better than her, so I thought I'd step in and give her time to show her dancing skills." He announced.

"Hmm." Barnum huffed aloud. "Well, I hope you can dance the dance as well as all of your friends. I don't share the role of ringmaster with anyone."

Anyone? Charlie squinted in confusion. "What about Phillip Carlyle?" Francis blurted out. Charlie forced himself to remain indifferent to the name.

It was suddenly Barnum's turn to look confused. "Who?" He asked.

Francis shrunk back in complete shock. "Phillip Carlyle?" She asked, looking around at all the performers. They all exchanged confused looks. Charlie heard the woman in gold muttering: "You know who they're talking about?"

Phillip Carlyle, apparently, didn't exist.

A surge of relief ran through Charlie. Not only was he free of his last name and his brothers and sisters, but he also didn't even have to worry about anyone recognizing him as Phillip's son. He didn't look anything like his mom anyways, so this meant that he was completely safe. "Never mind." He blurted out. "What did you think? Are we any good?"

Barnum stroked his chin and considered them all. He pointed into the crowd again. "You, white girl with the long dress. Who are you?"

It was Mireille. She stepped forward, shaking a little but holding herself steady. "I'm Mireille Giovanna." She introduced.

Upon hearing her middle name, Barnum let out a little exhale. "That's a mouthful." He decided. "Mireille, can you do trapeze?"

Mireille's lip wobbled a little, but she held firm and locked eyes with Barnum. "No, sir. I wasn't trained like they were." Mostly because Mireille preferred being on the ground where she could act like a demolition team striking through anything. She didn't like being in the air, at the mercy of gravity and momentum. She could only do basic tricks, and never anything like the Carlyle and Wheeler kids could.

"Your dancing is behind everyone else's," Barnum said flatly. "So either you have a lot of catching up to do or I can't take you on as a performer."

"She can catch up!" Charlie interrupted quickly. "And besides, she's got lots of other talents too!"

"Charlie!" Mireille hissed, sending a scathing glare his way. He realized his mistake immediately. Assuming Lettie Lutz was with the circus and wasn't gone like Phillip was, she definitely didn't know she had a daughter. Meaning she definitely wasn't fending Barnum's greedy claws off of Mireille. And if this was before Jenny Lind had ever come over to America, then Barnum was still looking for a way to propel himself to the top dogs. Mireille didn't want to become his next victim.

But it was too late. "Like what?" Barnum demanded. Mireille looked up and squared her shoulders like a queen. She swept her beautiful thick hair over her shoulders and announced: "I write songs, I choreograph dances, and I can apply makeup and fix costumes like a pro."

"Hmm." Barnum huffed aloud again. He considered her words even further. "I still want you to catch up." He told her finally. "But I could use someone like you to teach everyone how to apply things and help with things get broken. Anne and Lettie are fantastic, but we need all the extra hands we can get."

And that settled it. Anne Wheeler and Lettie Lutz were definitely real people, wherever they were. Which was probably a very good thing to have confirmed, considering they'd announced Emma and Adam as WD and Anne substitutes.

"What numbers don't you know?" Barnum asked. He began to descend the stairs as he spoke.

The kids exchanged looks. So many new songs had been written in the past decade, like Sarah Wheeler's songs and then the ones they'd written. How were they supposed to know which ones existed here already or not? "We know all of them," Francis announced.

"So you know Come Alive and Cheer, Boys, Cheer?" Barnum asked.

"Yes," Charlie answered for the group, firmly. Barnum's eyes hovered on his in a somewhat distasteful way.

"What about Finnegan's Wake and Wait for the Wagon?" Barnum asked.

"We know all of them," Charlie repeated, even firmer this time.

"We even know This is Me and From Now On!" Adam piped up from behind Francis. Everyone turned around and cast him a few strange looks.

Barnum crinkled his nose. "I've never heard of those songs." He proclaimed. The blood drained out of Adam's face as Charlie's mind went into overdrive.

"Perchance…" He started slowly. "Have you ever heard of Jenny Lind?"

Barnum furrowed his brow. "I can't say I have." He admitted. "Is she a dancer?"

"Oh, just a singer," Mireille said in a lightheaded tone. "Those songs are related to her. Our bad. But yes, we know all of the circus's songs."

They were way far into the past. This was before Jenny Lind, before the renaming of the circus, before PT Barnum's most favorite songs. This was a world where Phillip Carlyle apparently didn't exist, where no one had any children yet and where some of the songs they knew either hadn't been written or had never been shared with the public.

"Hmm," Barnum said, again. "Well, I think that you're good enough." He turned to the Woman in Gold. "Martha, could you please escort Mireille, Francis and-" He paused to snap his fingers at Emma.

"Oh, I'm Emma Wh-" She cut herself off quickly, glancing around at her friends for help.

"Will Davis." Mireille supplied hastily. "Emma Will Davis. And these two young men are Adam and Fredrick Thompson." She gestured to the last two boys as they shifted their feet in a sloppily-concealed panic.

"No middle names?" Barnum asked with a raised eyebrow. Charlie let out an exhale. Their names were actually Adam Phineas and Fredrick Taylor, but they couldn't exactly use PT Barnum's names right smack in the middle of their own when they looked like younger copies of him, could they?

"No, sir." Adam stuttered. "Just Adam and Fredrick."

"Lovely." Barnum decided. "Martha, please take Mireille, Francis, and Emma to Lettie and ask her to help them settle in on the block. Constantine, could you take these young men to Daniel and have him help them. I'll have O'Malley add them to payroll."

Charlie looked over at Mireille. They were being separated, and far sooner than they would have liked. They had no time to come up with a story, and no way of knowing where they'd end up since the building was already so different from the tents. Charlie swallowed and put his head down as Barnum continued talking.

"And kids, I don't allow trespassers and I don't always treat them so kindly. Remember that next time you want to hang around somewhere hours after showtime." Barnum suddenly seized Charlie's shoulder and turned him around. "Look, boy, you're the oldest, yes?" He asked.

"Yes," Charlie answered, trying his best not to wilt under Barnum's imposing stare. Barnum carefully held a finger up in Charlie's face.

"I'm not sure how you know that song, but I'm mighty interested in hearing whatever story you come up with," Barnum told him in a lowered tone. Charlie swallowed. He was, of course, talking about A Million Dreams. Charlie had no idea what kind of story he could come up with on such short notice.

"Go on then!" Barnum waved. He took his cane back from Charlie and walked to put away the ropes. Francis and Emma followed Martha, the woman in gold, up the stairs as Mireille hovered near the base of the stairs. Charlie walked over, and they shared a quick kiss.

"Meet you here later?" Mireille whispered.

"Probably be best to avoid the ring for a while." Charlie murmured. "I'll try and come find you. Don't hate me if I can't, though."

Mireille nodded. She gathered up her heavy skirts and headed up the stairs. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god, they weren't going on the streets.

[bloodsiimple]

⊸ THE MIND IS A TERRIBLE THING TO TASTE ;

⊸ name › basil constantine ( vasilii konstantin ) ⊸ age › twenty nine ( actually thirty one ) ⊸ origin › calx ⊸ kingdom › pestis ⊸ title › military commander / the commander of death ⊸ martial status › married to lady milana

⊸ BIOGRAPHY ;

        ⊸ SERPENTINE, you’d think Basil Constantine came from the forests and valleys of the shadowed Lettis, but his true origins are the Blade Mountains of Calx, though he’d tell you Pestis if you asked. Basil Constantine, or Vasilii Konstantin as his true home knew him, was a poor orphan that no one loved, sleeping in alleys and living for the scraps that the few kind-hearted wives of Calx would leave on their doorsteps for urchins like him. Growing in harsh winds only made his bones chill and harden, and as orphans often did in the mountains, he joined the military at the young age of fifteen.

       ⊸ BLOOD THIRSTY, Vasilii quickly proved to his commanders and captains that he had the true stone heart of the Calx Sons. His fighting was lethal, friendly sparing quickly turned deadly if another didn’t preserve over the fight, and his lithe frame made slipping away from the end of a blade his call sign, only to stick the tip of his own against the throbbing neck of his opponent. His betters recognized the hunger in his eyes, choosing him at twenty one for a special mission.

      ⊸ UNDIGNIFIED, nothing more than a boy without family, the commanders and generals saw him fit for spying, starting over. The plan was simple: reinvent himself as Basil Constantine, a promising young solider for Pestis, and work his way up the ranks until he worked directly for the royal family. Fitting into the sea people’s land wasn’t hard and no one seemed to question his white-blond hair and permanently wind-chapped skin as he won victories pillaging the land.

     ⊸ VICTORIOUS, not only in war but also in sabotage. Ten long years and Basil has found himself the Commander of the Military, or the Commander of Death if you please, his mission is nearly successful. There’s still work to be done, though, and the seedlings for the royal ruler’s ear have only begun to grow. Once he’s wormed his way into their lives? Basil doesn’t have to worry that they won’t start a war with Imber, he can practically taste the Pestis’ need for violence in the air.

     ⊸ LASCIVIOUS, as soldiers are wont to be, but commanders aren’t allowed such reputations; it’s unbecoming. A wife, Basil Constantine needs ( Vasilii Konstantin sees no need for such a thing ), and a wife he’ll find in Lady Milana. Really, it’s her who finds him, but Basil is just happy he won’t have to waste time to find someone wiling — not that there aren’t suitors, he’s the Commander and any girl would be lucky to gaze upon his visage, but he assumes Milana needs him just as much with all her previous husbands’ so called mysterious deaths and disappearances.

    ⊸ A CHALLENGE, his marriage to Milana provides, and Basil nor Vasilii has ever backed down from a fight. It’s almost sort of hilarious, and slightly offensive, that Milana thinks he’s so oblivious to her nefarious deeds. All those missing maids and husbands? Any man, any common man, would be a fool to not see the writing on the wall. The writing’s in blood, after all. Basil happens to be the Commander of Death, though, and any attempt on his life is sidestepped and dodged like a steel sword: walls talk, as do the little amount of staff Milana hasn’t managed to murder.

    ⊸ LYUBOV, the name of the girl with long, chocolate curls and a sweet, shy smile. Just as Basil isn’t oblivious to Milana’s deeds, she’s not oblivious to his, and his deeds are rarely hidden like the bodies in the dungeon; Basil fucks the maids before they die, tells them he loves them or any other word that gets them to raise their skirts, and cares little when they stop showing up for work. Lyubov, though, the lady-in-waiting hosted in Milana’s castle for a few weeks, almost makes him care. This one, he thinks, he wouldn’t mind if she stuck around. Milana, of course, has other plans for their guest.

⊸ PLOTS ;

      ⊸ MILANA OF PESTIS, his dearest wife, widow of six previous husbands, and a seventh if her attempts didn’t always fail. Basil sees her thirst for homicide as a fun little game, something to entertain himself when he’s not involved in battle, and he often has to wonder why she didn’t join the military if she’s got such a thirst for blood. Their marriage is one based off of lies, blood, and manipulation, and Basil couldn’t think of a better candidate for his wife; most girls never spike his drink with poison or loosen handrails on the staircase.

      ⊸ LYUBOV NANKOVA, the newest conquest, at least the newest in the bed chamber. Her innocence and naivety is sweeter than cherry wine, though Basil isn’t the only one who has noticed. Manipulation in the name of the game in his marriage with Milana and Lyubov will be no exception as she’s caught in the crosshairs. Basil happens to like this one, though, so he’s not as keen to watch the game ensnare his favorite pet. 

⊸ WANTED ;

      ⊸ ONE, someone from Calx that recognizes Basil as Vasilii. They could jeopardize his mission and Basil would do anything to keep his idenity a secret from the kingdom; Pestis doesn’t deal kindly with traitors, nor spies, and getting Pestis to back Calx in the war with Imber is too damn important. ( OPEN to CALX )

     ⊸ TWO, a little birdie ( or two, three ) that supplies Basil with information, any kind of knowledge that could aide him in any possible way. This person would most likely be manipulated into this position, believing Basil is gaining information for a certain cause or to help some other person, whatevs, or maybe they just like Scheming™. ( OPEN to PESTIS )

    ⊸ THREE, a past or current conquest. Basil is notorious for having many lovers, even after his nuptials, and not every single one of them is in danger of being murdered by his wife. Basil enjoys a challenge, so the higher your character’s standing or if they’ve got a spouse, Basil will work extra hard to get that Puss Or Peen. C’mon. Bang him. ( OPEN to ANYONE ) 

I’m open for pretty much any connection so don’t be afraid to message me if none of the above interest you!!

[xxinksxx]

Lmao I love this

The movie portrayed him as a suave mf that threw the occasional tempertantrum and in reality:

-He hated confrontation and would avoid it to the point if you wouldn't leave his house he would just accept it. (Which is how Michael AND Sophie came to live with him.)

-He judged you based on how you treated his fire demon and how his fire demon reacted to you, much how people judge you by how you treat their weird pets and how their pets react to you. Most people either never noticed Calcifer or were terrified of him.

-When he got sick he would mope around dramatically and declare he was dying. When he was bed ridden and would get bored, wouldn't straight up call for someone. He'd just start hack coughing and sneezing and blowing his nose louder until the roof shook and they came to check on him. Sophie promptly ignored him like a champ.

-He would slither out of answering any kind of question so hard, Sophie nicknamed him a "Slither-Outter" and would call him out on it regularly.

-Would flirt with women until they were interested in him and then he lost interest. Which is a lot like being lith-romantic, but when he fell in love with Sophie she treated him in such a way that didn't make him want to run. But he exploited her jealousy when she fell in love with him (but still wasn't aware of it at the time) to keep the Witch of the Waste's fire demon and other women out of the castle.

-He was a failing college student from Wales that couldn't get a job in the real world, so he escaped to a world of magic where he could be a wizard and do cool magicy things. His sister would regularly hound him about being a lazy good for nothing and sell his books when she was mad at him.

-Spent no less than 2 hours in the bathroom every day primping and preening himself till he was perfect. Michael once stated that the only time he'd believe Howl was ever in love with a girl was if he showed up with bed head and a 5 o'clock shadow. (Paraphrasing)

-Though one time he did find out his family was being attacked by the witch and shot up out of a sound sleep, leapt down the stairs in three bounds, out the door with bed head and all and lurched into the yard where they were. Then tossed his niece out of the way of the witch's spell, and full on launched himself at the witch, screaming. Tbh same.

-Was actually spending his time with Letty to find out if she knew how to break Sophie's curse, but let everyone think he was there to court her.

-Protects spiders because they never stop trying to build a web no matter how many times they get knocked down, and are good for catching flies.

-Room always a mess but if that ain't a mood

My favorite anecdote of Howl’s Moving Castle is when Diana Wynne Jones said that she was surprised bc every young woman that read the book fell in love with Howl.

Reader: I love Howl

Diana: Girl he’s trash

[lettielith]

Lettie Lith

Tee by CreepyGals, crop by GhoulVibrations 💖