#sick new world sideshow

[vividhighlight]

sick new world sideshow, fontainebleau las vegas, april 26, 2024

[alabamasweettea]

the daisy

Requested by @jungkookck! I really loved writing this, hope you enjoy! <3

Fandom: The Illusionist

Pairing: Eisenheim/fem!reader

Tags: fluff, canon divergence

All your life you've been a fly on the wall. Sophie's sister. The other von Teschen.

When you met Eduard, he made you feel like you. Not the spare daughter, not anyone's sidekick. You.

"You can call me Ed." He was nearing fourteen, loitering around the door of a perfume shop just to see you. You smiled over the stacks of dainty glass bottles in the window, catching his eye. His clothes were too large, probably handed down from a sibling. Or father.

But you didn't care. His eyes were big and brown and kind. They blinked owlishly from under a mop of dark hair where the boy scuffed his shoe in the dusty road, waiting for you and your mother to emerge.

When you did—finally, after what felt like days as your mother hmphed her way through numerous bottles—he held a flower in his hand. A daisy. Its white petals were already wilting, an hour since picked, but you treasured it from the moment he offered it with a bow and a cheeky smile.

"Can I come see you?" He whispered after he'd kissed your cheek, his mouth still so close to your ear. Your face felt hot.

"Perhaps. Come to the hawk's oak tomorrow?" You answered with a small smile, trying to choke it down before anyone noticed.

"I'll be there." Your mother was looking back by then, and he skittered away.

Needless to say you weren't allowed to go out the next day, or the next. You never saw Ed again.

Then.

Fifteen years later, you were in Vienna on holiday with your sister and her new husband, not much enjoying yourself. The weather was bad. There wasn't anything fun to do, except go to some delusioned magician's sideshow. Surely this couldn't be his real job, could it?

As you sat in the uncomfortable wooden seat, afraid to move too much for fear of making it creak but insistent on flicking your fan every so often in boredom, a minute detail encroached on your senses.

A daisy.

It was in the man's lapel, stuck through his buttonhole. Its crisp white petals fresh, unwilted like the one you remembered from so long ago.

Is it? It can't be.

Don't be stupid, you chided yourself. Surely many men wore daisies. But you couldn't help wondering.

After the show you wandered about, too sick of your new brother-in-law to stick to the pair's side. He was too old for her, you thought. Too crisp. Black bowtie always perfectly done up. Infuriating.

There was a low murmur in the crowd as you were pushed aside, falling onto someone.

"I'm sorry," you began, before finding yourself looking into eyes brown as molten chocolate. An old wound on his nose peeked out from under pale scar tissue.

The man blinked in that same way you had dreamed of for years, leading you to believe...

It was him.

You hesitated.

"Eduard?" It wasn't supposed to come out, but it did, soft and unassuming as a whisper of breath.

Brown eyes crinkled up at the corners, forever stamped by crow's feet. They burned with recognition, with rekindled affection.

"I know you." There was his voice. There were his eyes, glinting with something not unlike mischief, rather tainted by something else. He looked at you like you were the only other person in the room, on earth. He looked at you like he wanted to hold your hand and keep you forever.

So he did.

Taking your hand, he kissed your cheek again, just like he had all those years ago.

"Can I come see you?" Repeating the very same words--you nearly melted.

"Perhaps," You answered coyly.

He smiled, tucking the daisy behind your ear and you took his arm, heading off to face the world together.

[leverwings]

wip from soaring, chapter 2 ⚔️🪽

premiering Saturday, 8/17 on ao3!

--

Erwin knows he shouldn’t say it. He knows, he knows but god is he sick of going head to head with Levi, with the Sisyphean effort of convincing someone who enlisted of his own volition that he wants to be here. He finds himself unsheathing the sword if only to upset the balance and find a new path forward, finds himself testing its weight in his fingers—

He pushes his earnings to the center of the table. 

“Is this what they would have wanted?” 

The blade strikes true, and Levi is on his feet in the blink of an eye. His hand fists in Erwin’s collar to drag him down to eye level and Erwin’s world spins dangerously as he stumbles forward.

“You keep their names out of your filthy fucking mouth,” Levi spits at a dangerous octave, barely audible over the thunder echoing in the clouds. His breath fans hot over Erwin’s cheek, and fear thrills in his gut. 

“I didn’t say their names.” It comes out as a whisper. He can’t seem to free himself from the death grip Levi’s eyes have on his own. 

“I don’t care about you,” Levi continues, eyes dull, voice eerily calm. “I don’t care about you, or Klaus, or the rest of the freaks in this fucking sideshow.” The only tell that tips his hand is the way he pauses, the way he swallows, and Erwin watches the bob of his throat intently. “My friends are dead, and it’s your fucking fault.” 

This is your fault.

It steals the breath from Erwin’s lungs, and he’s suddenly too drunk—dizzy with it as he shakes his head just barely. 

“The titans,” he amends weakly. 

“That’s right.” Levi’s hand tightens in the front of his shirt. “That’s right—you speak your pretty words,” he drawls, almost lovingly. Erwin’s cheeks flame. “And you clutch that pretty hand to that pretty chest, blind them with those pretty eyes and you give them a glimpse—you show them what fresh air tastes like, and what the sun looks like, setting behind trees instead of walls. You lick boots and sign reams of paper your boss is too drunk to sign himself, day in and day out, to secure the money to buy them pretty bottles of liquor so they forget about the price they’re paying, so they don’t see you for what you are.” 

Levi leans close, then, and Erwin can feel the whisper of his breath as he says, low in Erwin’s ear—

“Pretty thing. You’re a fucking fraud.”

Heat sears white-hot and sudden through Erwin’s chest and before he knows it, his knee makes contact with Levi’s stomach. 

Levi’s breath heaves out of him with a wumph and Erwin goes for his jaw, but Levi’s quick as the lightning in the clouds above—he catches his wrist with nimble fingers as the first fat drops of rain fall to the roof. Levi lands a blow to Erwin’s eye and Erwin lands another blow to Levi’s stomach, and another, before swinging into empty air as Levi ducks down to sweep a leg under Erwin’s feet, sending him stumbling to the ground, shingles scraping against his palms as his vision crests and breaks and recedes from the vertigo, whiskey churning in his bloodstream.

The rain picks up as Erwin pulls Levi down with him and they roll, and Erwin pins Levi’s wrists under his own only to lose his vision in a sea of stars when Levi headbutts him, and then the world spins violently and Erwin lands hard on his back, grunting as Levi’s knee lands hard in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Levi takes his opportunity, fisting his hand in Erwin’s collar once more to wrench him to his feet in an alarming display of strength, whirl him around, and lean him over the edge of the roof. 

The tips of Erwin’s boots dance along the rain gutter as his hands grip Levi’s wrists, more in accordance with his body’s failsafe measures than with his consciousness. The magnitude of space between his head and the ground stretches in his hindbrain, sending his heart jackrabbiting against his ribs, stomach anticipating the drop of free fall. His eyes find Levi’s, wide with unadulterated loathing.

“Wonder what that pretty head would look like with brains leaking out your skull,” Levi snarls.

[doubledyke]

Double D 7, 10, 11, 12, 20, 26, 28, and 30!

yall are gonna get sick of me talking about eddward lmao

7. a quote of his that i remember: this one has been stuck in my head recently

i get a real kick out of his goofy ass overly formal intonation.

10. describe the character in one sentence: "deep in the earth's core in a top secret lab, a mad scientist conducted cross breeding experiments by combining a terrifying lizard with a sweet boy; thus creating the lizard man."

11. what's the first thing i think of when i think of edd: that i hope wherever he is, he remembered to take his magnesium, vitamin d and ashwagandha

12. sexuality hc: BISEXUAL BABEYYYYY

20. a weird headcanon: man the world is not ready for the freak ass lore that i impose on eddward. jk honestly i think i've shared a lot of it already. i think one of the weirder ones is my idea of him being a medical examiner. it exists solely to indulge my own morbid interests. it's mostly a joke though. unless...

26. when do i think he was being the most "himself"? any time he's gleefully explaining something to ed, like the opening scene in luck of the ed. moments where he gets real snappy, like throughout rent-a-ed. or in pop goes the ed where he and ed are torturing everyone with graphic descriptions of fascinating new brain extraction techniques.

28. the most unnecessary thing he ever did: mission ed-possible. what a narc.

30. the funniest scene he had: any scene where he busts out the brando. like in thick as an ed when he turns into a pile of dust after the cheese bounces off his head. and when he pulls out a pillow on which to lay his dying head. hilarious. in my fair ed, his monologue about becoming a sideshow act is one of my favorites. the absurd little "...no salt" comment about his pretzel legs is SO FUNNY. his histrionic outbursts are my bread and butter.

[mariacallous]

The trial of FTX founder Sam Bankman-Fried, now coming to the end of its first week, is far bigger than just crypto. Reporters from the largest media outlets (including WIRED) have flocked to New York to cover it, TV stations are airing feature-length documentaries on the fall of the crypto exchange, and X (formerly Twitter) is ablaze with armchair analysis. But members of the crypto industry are tired of the circus before it has really even begun.

“I’m not the only one that thinks this is all just one very big distraction,” says crypto analyst Noelle Acheson, formerly of crypto brokerage Genesis. The sooner the industry is able to move beyond the “galactic embarrassment of FTX,” she says, the better. “It’s about starting again once [the trial] is done.”

When FTX went down last November, unable to meet a surge in withdrawals, it sent the industry into turmoil. Not only had billions of dollars’ worth of customer funds gone missing, but the collapse caused markets to nosedive and led to the failure of other crypto firms, a regulatory crackdown in the US, and, in a roundabout way, the fall of two crypto-friendly banks.

But the criminal trial is a sideshow to all of this, says Acheson, whose outcome will have little real impact on the prospects or trajectory of the crypto businesses that survived the shock. “It’s the stuff of a very juicy story, that’s why it has held everyone’s attention for so long … It’s the gossip we all pretend not to be interested in,” she says. “But closure will allow the industry to move on.”

At this, the first of two trials, Bankman-Fried is facing seven counts of fraud. He is accused by the US Department of Justice of misappropriating billions of dollars’ worth of customer deposits—which was allegedly used to bankroll a lavish lifestyle and buy political influence—and lying about the way his business operated.

The frustration, in crypto circles, is with the idea that the industry is on trial too—that Bankman-Fried’s alleged fraud is emblematic of the hubris and backroom maneuvering essential to crypto. They say this a case of straightforward fraud of the Bernie Madoff variety, not a reflection of issues specific to crypto businesses or technologies.

“The idea that crypto is on trial, I find ludicrous. An individual is on trial,” says Sheila Warren, CEO of the Crypto Council for Innovation, a body advocating for regulation of the crypto industry. “There is an extrapolation happening here and I don’t think it’s appropriate. The vast majority of this was good, old-fashioned, old-timey fraud.”

Bankman-Fried has denied fraud, and pleaded not guilty to the charges he faces.

The focal point of the trial, says Warren, should instead be the harm done to customers of FTX. The group will have a voice in the courtroom: The prosecution opened its case with the testimony of an ex-FTX customer who lost $100,000 to the exchange. But the emphasis of the “media frenzy” on the character of Bankman-Fried, the salacious details of his relationships with peers, and on crypto-bashing, says Warren, detracts from that central concern. “I wish [what’s going on in bankruptcy court] were the priority over ‘bad guy allegedly does bad things,’” she says. “The cult of celebrity around this is part of the problem.”

The end of the trial of Bankman-Fried, expected to conclude by mid-November, may draw a line under the latest chapter in the crypto drama. But whether the industry will learn the necessary lessons from the fall of FTX and its once-celebrated founder is a separate question.

Acheson is hopeful, but not convinced. She says crypto is uniquely vulnerable to the hero worship that helped to valorize and legitimize Bankman-Fried. The very-online nature of crypto discourse, she says, creates fertile ground for charismatic grifters able to amass a following. “Hopefully we’ll be ready, more vigilant, and less trusting,” says Acheson.

The industry, says Warren, will only remain primed against the risky financial engineering that led to the collapse of FTX and its peers for so long. “I think it’s time-bounded,” she says. “Until you have a regulatory scheme that encodes [a clear set of rules for crypto businesses], you’ll have a new generation of people” that try to push the boundaries in dangerous ways. “One of the roles of a regulator is to contain some of that impulse and say, ‘There are consequences.’”

The period of trauma can have a cleansing effect, driving out bad actors and reining in excess. But should crypto fever return, says Warren, the concern is that “a bunch of these yahoos, with their pump-and-dump nonsense, will come right back.”

[barnabytremayne]

The Cesspool of Crap: A Rant on Terrible British Game Shows

As I sit here, sipping on my lukewarm coffee and staring into the abyss that is my television screen, I can't help but feel a seething anger – an anger directed at the pitiful state of British game shows. Oh, how they have dragged us down into the cavernous depths of mediocrity and despair!

I used to love game shows. They were the perfect blend of brain-numbing fun and mindless entertainment. But now, it seems that the only goal of these TV stations is to create the most insipid, toe-curlingly awful game shows that the world has ever seen. How did we get here?

Let's take a moment to examine the culprits. The so-called 'talent' on these programs – I use the term loosely – seem to be selected based on their ability to draw in viewers with their bewildering lack of charisma and charm. It's as if the producers are actively seeking out the least watchable human beings to grace our screens.

And what about the 'games' themselves? They've devolved into a bizarre cross between a carnival sideshow and a therapy session. Contestants are now required to perform embarrassing stunts, solve dull puzzles, and engage in awkward small talk with their fellow 'winners.' It's all just one big pile of vomit-inducing television.

But perhaps the most infuriating aspect of these godawful game shows is the insidious way they've infiltrated our cultural consciousness. Once prized for their intellectual challenge and competitive spirit, game shows have now been reduced to a series of tasteless gimmicks and cheap laughs. The once proud tradition of demonstrating your smarts in front of a national audience has been replaced by a parade of beings who are content to claw at the bottom rung of the entertainment ladder.

And don't get me started on the relentless advertisements that follow each show. They're like a sick, twisted form of torture. "Win a brand-new toaster! Join us again next week for more fun and games!" Oh, how delighted I am that I tuned in just in time to hear this dulcet sales pitch.

So, as I sit here, shaking my head in disgust, I can't help but wonder what happened to the good old days when game shows were a source of innocent joy and lighthearted competition. Why must we settle for this cesspool of crap that passes for entertainment in today's world?

It's time we demand better. It's time for a revolution. A revolution of taste and decency. A revolution that will take back the beloved genre of game shows and restore it to its former glory. Until then, I shall continue to sit here, seething and sulking, as I watch the wretched abominations that parade themselves as game shows.

And to the producers and networks out there: you've been warned. We're watching you, and we're not afraid to call you out on your crap. So, clean up your act or prepare for the wrath of the viewing public.

[thephotopitmagazine]

CHECK OUT THE SICK NEW WORLD: SIDESHOWS BEFORE THE MAIN FESTIVAL EVENT!

  Las Vegas, NV will be smoking hot the last week of April, and I don’t mean the temperature. On April 27th the Las Vegas Festival Grounds will be hosting Sick New World! festival. But, before that event occurs several bands performing at Sick New World! will be performing before the festival in Las Vegas! Here is the listing of events before the festival on April 27th: Thursday, April…

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary60

11/10-11/2023

friday - saturday

a worrisome day.

today began okay. i don't remember my dream. no, i do, another one about vacation, this time, in the desert, on the way to some kind of theme park, in an ugly little town, an ugly little rollercoaster, a sideshow attraction, it turned out to be where we were headed, and in a family restaurant stuck to the attraction, we sat, plastic from 1991, graphics from 1991, it reminded me of all the old mcdonald's playplaces, it made me feel dirty. the car felt impossible and fast, we were a bullet along the desert, it used to be an ocean floor, i thought about that, the coaster had an aquatic theme. fast like crashing waves, maybe something about tsunamis. orange-red letters fly across a wave, the graphic that advertised it. i was there, an amalgam of a family, all the one's i've had, my gf's mom, my father, my extended family in all circles met in a center i don't ever want to see materialize, and i felt trapped all over again. i really have been traumatized by travel i think. it's good for your soul, but i go to these ugly places, my dreams absorb new terrain, but it all makes me sad. all i can say is oh well, tonight's only made me sad, i say oh well, i hope by the end of everything i will be there laughing, like my friend was tonight, after sobbing, in fury i think, about a man she's served at work came in and kept asking about her breasts. she couldn't say anything, her coworkers didn't do anything. i was wishing the whole time i was hearing that i heard, and that if i heard, i would do something. but what if i didn't, i could be a coward, apparently everybody's a coward, it's 90% of the world. that makes me want to kill myself. i don't want to be a coward, and i never want to have to prove i'm not, because i don't want the world to be bad, but the world is bad. we are on a cursed star. i don't think it's possible to say otherwise.

first tonight, was the breast themed birthday party. it was sad, the woman turned 26, she got very drunk, natural i guess, a 35 year old alcoholic in denial because she only gets wasted socially and every day is social and every day is a party and begging for shots is just fun and not a suicidal urge making itself a joke like everyone's trained themselves to do, kept asking everyone to take shots. she entered the room, and said: shots, i think it's time for shots. it was like a cartoon. she does this all the time. the woman who was being celebrated, she had a shambolic casual sex situation she was trying to handle, the man saying he can't anymore, while still showing up to the party, showing some kind of interest still. maybe he just really wants to be friends, and wants things to be pure between them. i hope that's the case, i don't want more men to be evil. at the same party, a 35 year old man who had been evil to a 26 year old woman, not the same one celebrating, another, were both there, and he alone and she with friends, all hating him silently. we don't know how he was evil. it just makes me sick knowing, distantly, that it was something unforgivable. all the people kept partying, i got upset at my girlfriend as she got very drunk, and got handsy, and wouldn't listen to me, i asked her to not scream my name during the part of the night where they judged breasts and she screamed my name for the nip slip award or whatever (the award being tiny and plastic and useless). she says no one cares, i saw people staring but less than that, i asked her not to, but she did, that still upsets me, even after this pretty long night, it still sticks under the skin. i wish she didn't, how hard is it to respect me even a little. i know she does, so i'm just being dramatic. everything just makes me sick now. i got to see our couple friends, they were very nice, and happy to be with us, we chatted shit about the people there. i said loudly, to one: these people don't care about me. and i said loudly, at the room: these poet-artists don't care about me, or anyone, i am invisible and i could be crushed like an insect, i am here to be crushed, no one cares, no one hears or sees. no one heard or saw. i know outbursts like that only make people uncomfortable. something is wrong with me and i kept doing it tonight. maybe i'll remember more to say about the party tomorrow. the celebrator touched my arm weird, in pulses, sadly i think. people said i was pretty, because i think they thought i didn't want to go up out of shame, and not because i just know i didn't want to. anyway, maybe more on this tomorrow.

we went to a rave. the music upset me, until a certain point. all the same, all minimal techno and hard to the point of being a grey 90 degree angle, and the same forever, until a song came on everyone recognized, and they posed a little and whatever. there was a dog, there was a baby. they are important. the dog was ugly but beautiful, the baby was sad. we met my other friend there, he made a joke about wanting to kick the bassist out of his band, but i wanted it to not be a joke. it's so much to put in writing. i am so tired. i will try and journey fully, for nobody, myself only. i couldn't hear that well, i put earplugs in, the music doesn't matter, only the people matter, so i hovered around them as much as possible, just talking, everything was important but i like those secrets. at one point, i ran off, around the corner, i stood on the corner watching some cars, i think i must have looked like a lady of the night, a car stopped on the corner, a stop sign, for so long, i can't fathom why other than to hope maybe i would come over or something. obviously i didn't. a guy on his bike did a double take at me, i think to figure out whether or not i have a cock. my gf and my friend's gf but also our friend and her friend and you know, came around the corner, i ran off again and triggered this thing to go off, like, an alert, a woman's automated voice rang into the night that we were being monitored in a restricted area.

when we came back, we lingered outside, and i was leaning against this shutter door thing. a woman in a crop top came out, super low rise jeans too, and was flirting with a man, her friend with her flirting with another. crop top produced a bag of drugs, did a keybump. i kept saying, oh my god she has drugs, she did drugs off a key, oh my god, god and jesus and her dad and mom and the cops and earth saw and knows forever. over and over again. i don't know why. it was funny. later on, we got to a long discussion about the bass player, my friend wasn't there, only the other friend who is his lover and my gf and myself. saying basically: he is a guy only in a band to get laid, he wants to be the face of the band, he doesn't even want to play bass anymore really, his ego is huge. just all kinds of shit. then we left, with our friend. we talked to him about it in the car, we talked to him about it in the restaurant. basically, he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know the bassist well even, he doesn't understand him fully, other people feel how we feel even, and my friend is also totally disengaged with the band, he's become bored with it, and he feels like after this, he'll never do another one again. i hope that's not true, i want him to just be happy again though, with music, and if maybe giving up on band stuff would help him, then whatever. but he is a very good musician, he should be listened to, but isn't, because his bandmates want to stick themselves to an ugly trend rn, of becoming a band that's like deftones kind of. before that though, my gf and our friend went off to this front room, the rave still happening, but this was a warehouse attached to an apartment almost, basically, and the baby was there, and the dog, and what my friend and i saw as we walked to our gfs, was his holding the baby, consoling it while it shrieked, and my gf, weeping, saying this baby is going to have a worse life than she did, and that this is like trainspotting, and weeping. and neither of us knew what to do. the dog was alone with the baby before, protecting it. the mother came eventually, someone who owned the business i suppose, or related to that end of things. it made me want to cry too, i didn't. i felt bad for everything. we saw a white claw in the drink holder part of the baby carriage. the world is very bad.

now i'm home. we ate at a restaurant, talked about things with my friend, he is just very depressed right now, and it's almost like there's not much pulling him out, other than being around people. it's sad that music isn't doing it for him. he is very angry right now too it feels like, i understand, he is like stuck and it's because of others in part, and shedding that weight would be selfish, but maybe that would be best. everyone feels impotent tonight, i feel bad for everyone, i can't help him, or his gf, with simply suffering for being born and being attractive to men, being treated as a place to stuff desire.

i am glad i saw them though, i love my friends. i guess at least something feels nice about knowing we can handle bad times together.

these circumstances could not make anyone happy.

byebye!!!!!

[celticcrossanon]

Why doesn’t Meghan ever get exposed the way she deserves? She is a protected criminal and it’s utterly nauseating to witness karma always miss her. I will never understand why the BRF can’t get rid of her as she is a dodgy nobody with no real power at all. Sick of this disgusting sideshow of injustice.

Hi Nonny,

I think Meghan has received quite a bit of karmic payback in the last few years. She has been exposed as a liar in court. Her attempts to gain favourable publicity have all failed, each one worse than the one before. Her book is a laughing stock and did not sell. She was booed at the Jubilee events and the world was shown that she is very much a 'second row royal'. Per Lady C, her name is mud in the entertainment industry. Meghan may be good at pretending that nothing is wrong, but she has been hit time and time again with backlash from her actions. She just does not learn and goes on doing the same thing, when a rational person would have tried something new long ago.

As for the BRF getting rid of her, they can not do anything. It is up to Harry to see her for what she is and then (hopefully) divorce her.

Meghan has made a side show of herself and it does seem that she gets away with her actions, but in reality she has had a horrible few years.

[youllallriseintheink]

After Nathan Arch

This is a story for the Step Right Up AU. After the murder of Nathan Arch, Bertrum meets with its only witness to discuss future plans for the circus.

Thank you so much to @haunted-hijinxer for editing this! You really made all the difference!

---

It was unusual for Bertrum to get nervous before meetings, but then again, this was a very unusual meeting. The previous night, he had shoved his cousin Nathan out of a moving train, with only Sammy Lawrence as witness. And today, he was meeting with Sammy over a meal to talk about it. It had sounded like they were on the same page last night, but they had both been in shock and panicked. Had Sammy just agreed because he’d just seen Bertrum fling another man to his death? They had to come to some sort of understanding lest Bertrum swiftly find himself in county jail.

Of course, Bertrum hadn’t meant to kill Nathan, (had he?). Nathan had been threatening Sammy’s life, and Bertrum had only meant to throw him against the wall to make a point... he hadn’t noticed the train door open in the dark. The train had been roaring along so fast they couldn’t even hear Nathan’s screams as the gravel cut him to ribbons. It was as though he’d disappeared.

When Sammy arrived he took a seat, not saying a word. That much wasn’t unusual, but there were some rare signs of worry on his usually stony face.

“Eat up,” Bertrum said gently. Sammy obeyed as if he’d only half heard the comment.

“You and I...need to talk about last night,” Bertrum said. “About what you...observed. And before. Please tell me exactly what occurred.”

For a few moments Bertrum wondered if Sammy would refuse...would storm out or shut the conversation down as he often did...but then he started to talk, answering clearly and without his usual sharpness. “Nathan found me on a walk and was going on about putting me in the sideshow during that seventh act that nobody likes. Said that he was sick of my attitude, yelling at me about how I had to learn my place and earn my keep. I told him he should mind his job and I’d mind mine...then he opened the door and threatened to throw me out of it. And that’s when you showed up.”

Bertrum nodded. “That’s right. So, have you... told anyone about what happened? And why do you think I did what I did?”

The long silence between them was terrifying. Bertrum knew that their conductor was a strange, untrusting bird. Physically, he had some facial features missing- enough that he’d probably seen some cruelty in the outside world, but not enough to set him apart in a world of circus freaks. But despite being relatively normal in this environment, and despite having been in the circus for eight months now, Bertrum hadn’t seen him to have any friends, and no one knew much about him. Not his background, not interests, nothing. He kept to himself. He ate by himself, glaring at anyone who came close. He disappeared when he had free time, and no one knew where he went or what he was doing in those times.

And then there was the sweater. Bertrum had knitted for everyone in his troupe by now, but he’d never had anyone react to it with such suspicion as Sammy had. “Is this a uniform? A promotion for the circus?” he’d asked.

“No,” Bertrum had answered, caught off guard.

“Am I expected to wear it at a specific time?”

“No. It’s just a jumper, Mr. Lawrence. I knit more than I can wear, so I knit for my troupe.”

Sammy had stared at him, as if looking for some kind of trick. Then, he’d given a stiff nod and was off. He did wear the sweater at least.

Then there came the blanket. Bertrum made everyone in his troupe blankets as the weather got cold, and since Sammy was new, he hadn’t got his yet. Bertrum had just left it on his bed with a note, no need to force the man into an awkward conversation this time, he’d thought. And Sammy had been furious. He’d stopped wearing the sweater and had immediately asked Lacie what Bertrum was trying to achieve with all these gifts. Lacie had calmed him down at least, but he’d been a little wary of Bertrum ever since.

It was obvious to Bertrum that Sammy had gone through something that had shattered his sense of trust, and he felt dearly sorry for the young man. What must one have gone through to be so threatened by an act of kindness? But more to the point, if Sammy was looking for an ulterior motive in Bertrum’s knitting, who knew what filthy motivations Sammy was attributing to a murder?

“I haven’t told anyone,” Sammy finally answered. “As for why you did it…” Bertrum tried not to hold his breath, waiting for the critical answer. Did Sammy see him as nothing but a violent brute, a murderer? A monster, a -  “You were defending me,” Sammy stated, face down, brows drawn. His voice was quiet, but there was an energy in his voice, almost a fervor that made it impossible to doubt his sincerity. “You were defending the circus. He was ruining it, he almost killed me, and you stopped him.” Bertrum wanted to ruffle his strawberry-blond hair in relief.

“Yes. I’m very glad you see it that way. I have something to give you now that I’ll be ringmaster.” Bertrum pulled a simple white mask out of his desk. “You can wear this while you’re conducting, if you want. I know that you prefer to be known for your music.”

Sammy blinked down at the offered mask, and reached out to take it. “Thank you,” he said. Bertrum thanked his lucky stars that there wasn’t more of a reaction. He had been prepared for another suspicious outburst, not... thanks. Really, Sammy had been agreeable to an unprecedented degree for the entire talk. Sammy... Sammy of all people, actually seemed to be trusting him. Trusting him to make this right, to take care of the circus and everyone in it, now that Nathan was... gone.

And Bertrum intended to do just that.

He had to.

“Nathan’s death was an accident, a tragedy,” Bertrum said gravely, “but I see no reason not to embrace the positives that come with it. I’m cutting the freakshow act out entirely. I hate it, you hate it, I know almost everyone else does, too. It’s our skills that should be the main attraction, not our quirks of appearance, don’t you think?”

Sammy nodded, perhaps with more energy than he’d meant to betray.

“Then there are two things I need of you, Sammy. First, we need to agree on what we’ll say happened last night. So, here’s what I propose: Nathan has locked himself up in his room to do some soul-searching. Troubling behaviour, but not one we can stop. I’ll take him a few meals to make it especially realistic. And then a day or two after the train stops, I’ll announce that he decided to quit, focus on his next passion, and leave the circus to me. All you have to do is not contradict me. Can I trust you with that?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Second, is there anyone in this troupe that you feel at least a little comfortable with?”

There was. Sammy went to the instrument storage sometimes when he needed a change of scenery to write his music. It turned out Jack was the same way. They’d talked. Jack had shown Sammy his music, and Sammy had made some minor suggestions. Jack had understood what he was going for immediately, and they’d chatted over their compositions all afternoon. Since then, Jack had kept turning up, and they’d kept talking, on and off. It was nice, Sammy supposed.

“Jack is alright.”

“Okay. Well, when we arrive at the next stop, we’re meeting a man named Joey Drew. He’s looking to join the troupe as a coordinator, and he has some very interesting technology he’d like to share with us. Why don’t you and Jack give him the grand tour?”

Sammy clenched his jaw. What was Bertrum doing? He wanted Sammy to think that this was to get him out of his shell or whatever. But was it?

Bertrum sighed. “I'd very much appreciate it but it is up to you if you are comfortable with it. I don’t mind giving a tour.”

“I’ll do the tour,” Sammy deadpanned, standing up to leave. “And thank you. For the meal, and for last night. I’m sure you’ll be a better ringmaster for this circus than the last one” With that, Sammy was gone, and it seemed as though Bertrum was safe. For now, at least.

[best-ghoul]

GRAVEN MOON FLUFF: Hoe Unions and Djenaraha

It's also funny after writing the words "Snilf Hoe Union" with the utmost gravity, I've had to commit a great deal of creative effort to their historical and present role in Faire Politics: namely, at the top. They make the most money and they mobilize the fastest to get shit fixed.

[Working Project Content] So, sex workers. Formerly just a cart that started following the faire to get some regular work, they're now among the oldest but still a vulnerable group at the circus by nature of their jobs. How openly they operate varies, but it's usually a legal (if intermittently frowned-upon) trade on most of Human turf.

They originated as just hangers-on following johns and janes from the Circus Caravan, but they were later given full protections and a safe place to operate, which includes a cadre of monsters (the Wolfhounds, your party) ready to settle any altercations that arise. Internally, even dickhead carnies that would be tempted to start shit with the staff are just scared enough of the venerable madame, Djenaraha-- an aged lamia-- her sprawling information network, and cabinets full of blackmail. It's enough to make even a truly vile bastard reconsider. The Hoe Tent quickly proved to be the most militant in terms of social organization. Socialism might not quite have been invented yet, but class struggle ain't new and the hoes be armed and mostly savvy about the economics of mutual aid. Some have transitioned entirely out of the business straight into quartermastery and logistics, as Madam Djen ensured the Talent knew how to keep their books straight. This has culminated in Djen being promoted to fucking Ringmaster, which is the closest thing the circus has to "Boss".

She's already the oldest woman at the circus (easily over a century), but she's in mourning for her beloved husband, the former ringmaster, and that's something that does not appear to be letting up. It's a real touchy subject.

Nobody at the Circus is eager for a dynasty, but Djen's the best manager they got, and she really does believe these clowning freaks can be a force for joy in a very sad world. Her artistic and ethical vision has had an impact everywhere in the ring. "Sanctuary and Joy" is not a passion that's lit under her quickly but a smoldering ideal she's nursed as long as she's been here, and she's been here a long damn time. She's essentially carrying the founding ideal of the Long Faire Night, which was originally a propaganda tool for their hometown, Blackgate, a rogue city-state run by Undead, and the last stop on the tour every year. Yet, her depression and commensurate dip in productivity has caused some tension with the gaffers, who'd prefer the circus just be a business venture and not lean too hard on this "moving sanctuary for the "undead, cambionized, and star-crossed" BS the Djen is pushing, since that tends to bring less curious customers and more torches and pitchforks.

It'll get messy the second it stops making money. Still, since she's had plenty of time, she also picked up some sideshow tricks-- knife-throwing, fire-dancing and fortune telling for locations where brothels are illegal or unprofitable, and even taught both to the ever-curious Kaskamin Yllia, your sidekick, who she treats like a daughter. She's also the Golden (war and trickery) Cambion of the party, so both her weaponry and her technique are in harmony with the Divine Madness slowly eating out the back of her mind. If it wasn't, she wouldn't have survived this long. Her sick-ass halo of burning daggers aside, the Gaffers have banded together about as quickly as the hoes, so now you have pseudo-union disputes and complaints about bias in ration, booty and scavenging all over the damn place. Some of this will come back to you scruffy lot.

Well, you're good at securing booty, right?

[Likewise, consider this a check with you guys as for how close I nailed how a SW Union would operate and considerations I may have missed. The circus isn't perfect, but it's supposed to be a society worth protecting.]

[ddarker-dreams]

A Still Beating Heart. Yan Alucard x Reader [COMM]

warnings: isolation and mentions of blood word count: 2k

To free yourself from the clutches of your room means to explore this archaic mansion, in search of some form of solace. 

The hallways are long-winding, foreboding. Drawn curtains block out sunlight’s kiss, leaving naught but sinister shadows at the end of each hall, indecipherable to the naked eye. Wood in colors consisting of rich hickory are present at every turn, impeccably clean and detailed in their carvings. Atop antique sideboards sit various trinkets, surely a finding any archaeologist would die to examine. You’ve been told that what’s his is yours, to help yourself to any treasures that capture your eye. What use are the finest, exotic luxuries from centuries past in a prison like this? 

Candlelight guides you on your way, though you worry it’s damaging your eyesight. Squinting has become far too common for your liking, to make out where it is you’re going is a challenge when natural light is forbidden. Old floorboards creak underneath your tentative steps, leading you to inhale sharply. Does it even matter if you make a noise that could possibly alert him? Even now, your gut warns that there is another set of eyes set upon your figure. Watching as you weave in and out of rooms in search of entertainment, internally snuffing out sinister intentions that you draw out like water from a well. 

The fear of being watched, studied like an animal in a cage while remaining none the wiser to the horrors in the walls has faded with time. Birthed from a primitive drive centered around preservation of the self, to keep your sanity in a delicate balance. Every flicker of candlelight, that cast shadows upon its surroundings, used to frighten you. To the point any sign of movement, any sound without an immediately identifiable source, would render you inconsolable. Now, you choose to pay it little mind, having grown acquainted with the unknown. 

Your destination has been reached, lithe fingers wrapped around the silver candlestick placing it down on a nearby wooden console. The door is unlocked, opening easily at your prompting, candlestick back in hand to illuminate the seemingly unending maze of bookshelves. A sigh of relief makes its way past your lips, grateful for the reprieve before you. Entertainment is sparse, reading one of the few reliable sources of passing the time. How thoughtful of him to grant this sparse freedom, bitterness growing inside you like a thorn covered vine. 

Fingertips brush over the spines of numerous books, and you closely examine the detailings of each one. The languages you can recognize are few and far between, from Romanian to Turkish. Reading in a language you can’t understand will do you no good, so you settle upon one of the few English titles. The Castle of Otranto, a seemingly fitting read for the macabre atmosphere that surrounds. Making yourself comfortable on a nearby love seat, you once again place the candlestick down and open the book on your lap. The sensation of hardened paper against your skin brings with it, among other things, familiarity. Black ink captures you, sending you into a world far away from here. Some realities are too good to be true, and your little escape is spoiled before it ever truly begins.

“I never seem capable of guessing which one you will pick.” 

A natural reaction to a new sound, your head lifts in search of identifying the direction it reverberates from. The deep, rumbling voice has no single point of origin, instead encompassing you from every corner of the library. How many times has Alucard played this game with you, and how many times will you allow him to? It’s not entirely possible for you to control every aspect of human biology, you’re incapable of stopping how your pupils dilate and the goosebumps that dot your skin. He goes beyond any understanding, transcending into the throes of unnatural. An uncanny valley, where you can almost place your finger on it, but it remains far too murky to know for certain. 

In his presence, there will be no enjoying the pleasures of reading, so you shut the book. “Then you must not know me as well as you claim.” 

His laughter starts softly. An unholy sound that colors the depths of your soul with dread, like a single drop of dark ink into formally purified water. With every second that progresses at a sluggish pace, his amusement corrupts you further, until there’s nothing left to do but glare defiantly at the empty spaces around. If he wants to play coy, taunting you from a distance, then so be it. Exchanges like this that left you a nervous wreck have become commonplace. In the recesses of your mind, a temptation blooms to slander him as a coward. For not materializing into physical form, in fear of the onslaught of your scrutiny that would lash out. But you know the unpleasant truth, he has nothing to fear from the likes of you. 

It's for the sake of your fragile psyche he often chooses to remain out of sight. 

How belittling, you think. That he should place you on a pedestal high enough to consider your mental well being, but still sees fit to keep you under lock and key for himself. Lamenting about your predicament has never filled the void in your heart he tore out, so you push the thoughts as far down as you can. Your mouth is settled into a straight line, head resting atop your fist. If he’s going to poke and prod from afar, the least he can do is dignify you with eye contact. 

Looking at the last spot his voice resonated from, your eyebrows knit together with irritation. “Come out already. Stop playing these trifling games.” 

The loose strands of hair that frame your face are pushed back, by wind of no identifiable origin, chilling your body to the bone. You hug the sides of your bare arms, cursing yourself for picking a flimsy nightgown to wear, the temperature of the room dropping unnaturally. Flicks of ebony and crimson appear by your side, slowly but surely taking the silhouette of a man. The height difference between you two is always unsettling, no matter his claims of never harming you. Eyes that have seen centuries of conflict blink, pallid flesh becoming a physical reality and filling out into a face. This sight is one you’ve bore witness to many times, and each time you feel further from God, like you’re seeing something you shouldn’t be. A deeply forbidden and imposing evil. 

“I’ve done as you’ve asked, there’s no need to glare at the wall anymore.” 

Not seeing an advantage in offering a response, you choose to ignore the comment. “What is it you want, Alucard?” 

Your own tone is exasperated, words cutting straight to the heart of the issue. He takes note of this immediately, and you come to regret your uncharacteristic impatience. Eyelids fluttering shut for a moment to regain your composure, you see him staring down at you with an unreadable countenance once they reopen. There’s a pressing issue on his mind, you know as you’re the centerpiece of it. He must not intend on bringing it up just yet, instead paying heed to the book you picked out. 

“Do you find the selection agreeable?” 

A low hum leaves your lips at the question, and you consider it, before offering an honest opinion. “I can’t read most of the books here.” 

“Should I translate them for you? Or, perhaps, teach you the languages themselves?” Alucard offers after a moment’s deliberation, and you find it strange. The version of him that sits beside you now, consulting you like it’s a normal conversation. As if the hands that stay by his side haven’t been tainted with the blood of thousands, instead taking an almost considerate approach in speaking with you. You can’t claim to understand how a monster such as Alucard became so beguiled by your existence, and something tells you he doesn’t understand it himself.

“There’s no need.” 

Your voice lacks the force it normally exerts, body feeling as if it’s growing further from you. Subconsciously, your hand raises to the side of your head, grimacing at the pounding ache that’s growing stronger by the minute. Acting like nothing is wrong is a feeble effort anyways, he’s already caught onto your dilapidated state. It doesn’t matter how cautious you had been in disposing the blood set aside for your consumption, it was only a matter of time until it’d catch up with you. The hand that remains free goes to the cushion of the couch, fingers entrenching themselves into the fabric and ripping it in the process.

“How long have you gone without it?” He finally stops dancing around the sore subject, much to your chagrin. Alucard sounds exasperated, and if it weren’t for endangering predicament, you might feel a hint of pride. To procure any reaction from him that goes against his wishes is a victory, as far as you’re concerned. Petty as it may be, he himself is far worse. So you relish in the knowledge that you’ve made him miserable, even if it can never match the amount he has inflicted on you. 

The world as you know it is growing unsteady, even as you sit perfectly still. A taboo longing constricts your body, muscles taut and chest heaving. “I lost track.” 

It’s an honest admission. Your little sideshow of rejecting what keeps you alive -- if you can even call this state of being that -- has been ongoing for a while now. An act of defiance to spite Alucard further, that still doesn’t fill you with enough satisfaction. It’s a regret to know that nothing will ever fulfill you, nothing but the ambrosia of freedom, too sweet and out of reach for you to taste. The shadow of a life you now live has ensured that, a nightmare bestowed upon you by Alucard’s innate need. 

“This isn’t even the worst of it,” he lowers his voice, speaking with such delicacy it makes you sick to your stomach. “Should you choose to stay like this, you’ll feel misery beyond words. Give up this futile act of defiance.” 

He speaks right next to you, inches from your ear, but it doesn’t properly register. Emotions haunt you like a curse, a spectrum of despair to raw want. You want blood. You want the taste of iron to lavish itself upon your tongue, temporarily filling the hole of animalistic hunger that you can no longer push down. It’s a flame that’s lit within you, and there is no further hope in extinguishing it. Your own thoughts are replaced by a need to survive, your hands moving without your prompting. 

By your side, he has nicked his finger, liquid crimson falling like a waterfall from heaven. There are no signs of your own self, autonomy thrown to the side. Your soft, paling lips, latch onto the source of vitality. Alucard watches wordlessly, an emotion that can almost be defined as regret flashing through his eyes. This is the fate that he had inflicted upon you, a lifetime of being a vampire like himself. It isn’t what he wanted for you -- to burden you with the weight he has carried for centuries past -- but you left him no choice. Having seen you lying, seconds away from death’s door, he had to act. To preserve your life, to keep you with him. 

You pull away, mouth smeared deep vermillion, eyes growing glassy. There’s no point in holding onto the shreds of honor that left you a long time ago, and you collapse against his solid frame. Alucard has never been capable of comforting you, not beyond melancholic touches that seem to pain him more than you. Sniffling against his shoulder, your hand raises, threatening to strike, before losing strength and falling down. Humiliating as it may be, you don’t care, holding desperately to any form of consolation this world may offer you. 

Alucard, the one who clipped your wings in the name of love, can only watch as you curse and cry out to him. 

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Magnolio, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1583 Pairing: Cursed Male Werewolf x GN Reader

A commission for my dearest friend, Ana.

xxx

You don’t know what it is about the old mirror in the antique shop that calls to you. It’s squat and ugly, and its silver frame is so tarnished that the designs are all but unrecognisable. Still, you watch anxiously as the cashier wraps it in recycled newspaper, and you buckle its seat belt in the car beside you on the ride home. Once there, you break out the supplies you usually use to help your grandmother polish her silver cutlery, and with a bit of patience and a lot of elbow grease late into the evening, you manage to buff off the patina and reveal the intricate designs that had been lost to age.

Wolves and flowers. What a strange and beautiful combination.

You make yourself a sandwich for dinner and pick away at it as you admire the new polish of the mirror, but something shifting in the reflection makes you frown and turn around to inspect your surroundings. What had just moved? Finding nothing, you look back into the mirror, only to find the face of a man staring back at you. You scream and flinch hard enough to throw your sandwich into the ceiling fan above you, its contents flying around the room as it hits the blades.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” you hear a trembling voice say, and you scream again when you realise that it’s coming from the mirror. “Stop screaming! It’s only me!”

“Who the hell is ‘me’?” you squeak, voice shrill from hysteria. You’re probably knocked out somewhere. Maybe you’ve fallen down the stairs and got a hard whack to your head. It is the only reasonable explanation for why there is suddenly a man testing the barrier of glass between you and the mirror.

The mirror.

The mirror itself is now reflecting a room that is completely unrecognisable to you, panelled with rich mahogany and decorated in a very austere style. The man in the mirror is possibly in his 30’s, with long, black hair and deep brown eyes. His light brown skin is exposed at the throat and collar by a white shirt that froths lace at the cuffs of the sleeves and cinches in at the waist with the high waistline of his dark breeches, but that is as far as you can see in the view of the mirror. The man in the mirror peers curiously around your living area, frowning his bemusement.

“Am I in your home?” he asks, and he doesn’t wait for you to reply before going on. “Thank God. I was so sick of looking at the back of a cloth. I’m Magnolio. You are?”

“Dreaming,” you murmur, watching Magnolio as though he were a sideshow attraction. “I’m dreaming. I must be.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on it,” Magnolio demurs. “I’m sure your dreams are more exciting than an old man in a mirror. What a charming carpet. Is it new?”

“Uh, thrifted,” you say, startling as a slice of tomato unsticks from the ceiling and plops down by your shoe. Now that you took in the scene, you had some cleaning up to do. There was mayo on the ceiling fan, and bread stuck to the window. Swearing, you begin to gather the remains of your poor sandwich. Even if this is a dream, you aren’t going to leave a future dream-you with a mess to clean up.

“You missed a bit of green,” says Magnolio, pointing out a piece of lettuce stuck to the leg of a chair.

“Thanks,” you mutter, eyeing the man as you add the leafy green to your sad little pile in your hands. Closer up, you can see a pale scar beneath one of his eyes, ragged and poorly healed at the time of injury. You have never been one for dreams, and this one is taking the cake. “Magnolio, you said?”

“Yes,” he sighs, sounding dejected. “Surname Alinari, if that means anything at all these days.”

It doesn’t. Not to you, anyway. Still, you sigh and sit down in front of the mirror after disposing of the sandwich and washing your hands, staring up into Magnolio’s face. “So, what are you?”

“How rude. I’m Italian!”

“No, you idiot. Why are you in the mirror?”

“Oh,” says Magnolio, the wind that had momentarily entered his sails disappearing. “Would you believe I was cursed?”

“I think I can make allowances for strange stories if they’re told to me by a ghost in a mirror.”

“I’m no ghost!” Magnolio scowls. “I’m very much alive. I’m just stuck in this… other world.”

“So this isn’t just a two way mirror? Like a walkie-talkie?”

“A walkie-whatie?”

“Never mind,” you say, shaking your head. “What I’m seeing behind you isn’t on earth?”

“I think it might be,” Magnolio replies, caught off guard by the question. “It certainly behaves the way the regular world does, except that something like a barrier won’t let me past the gardens.”

“Huh. That sucks.”

Magnolio nods uncertainly at your slang, frowning down at you. “I’m surprised that you’re taking this so well. Most people try to break the mirror by now.”

“How many people have you met?”

“A few. I’ve been trapped in here for over a hundred years. I lost track.”

“You don’t look like you’re over a hundred.”

“Well, it appears that I remain the age at which I was trapped, so far as I can tell. I can’t die while I’m here. I’ve tried.”

Silence falls between you. Both of you shift uncomfortably at Magnolio’s admission, until you finally sigh and decide enough is enough. “Do you want a tour? Even if this is a dream, it’s only polite.”

Magnolio laughs softly, nodding in a way that made his long hair fall into his eyes. “I’d like that, I think.”

After assuring you that the mirror can’t be broken, you heave Magnolio and his mirror all through your house, and what you plan on being a basic tour turns into an in-depth explanation of your indoor plumbing and electricity. You learn that he was from a small village in Sicily in the early 1800’s, so you figure you have your work cut out for you when it comes to catching him up on the times, but Magnolio stops you before you can get mired in the details.

“I’m caught up on history,” he tells you, and he shifts his own mirror to show you a wall of books in the panelled room. “He made sure to give me things to do, in case he didn’t get back in time to undo the spell.”

“Who?” you ask, and Magnolio’s face falls.

“My late husband,” he says, absently fiddling with a pendant at his chest. “He sealed me in this mirror when the villagers came for me. He was meant to free me before the night was out, but the villagers killed him. They couldn’t break the mirror or get to me, so they buried it with him instead. Then his grave was robbed and I was taken to France, and then to Austria, and finally I ended up here.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, ruffling your own hair. “That’s heavy. How do I get you out of this mirror, then?”

Magnolio perks up, hand stilling at his breast. “You would free me?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess. It would be pretty shitty of me to buy your mirror, learn about you, and decide you’re someone else’s problem.”

“Oh,” Magnolio sighs, smiling brilliantly in a way that makes his eyes crinkle. “I would be forever indebted to you. You must kiss me under the light of the moon. Then I will be free.”

You heave a beleaguered breath. “I hope my neighbours don’t see this,” you grumble as you haul his mirror outside, looking around for strangers as though you were smuggling black tar over the border. When you confirm that you are, in fact, alone, you sigh and twitch towards Magnolio’s mirror. “Well. Pucker up, Mags.”

Magnolio frowns. “‘Mags’?”

“Just kiss me, man,” you plead, pressing your lips against the mirror’s surface.

Startled into movement, Magnolio closes the distance between you, planting his lips over yours through the mirror. For a moment, your lips feel warm, and your heart beats wildly in your chest at the thought of watching a man emerge from his centuries-long entrapment.

But nothing happens.

“Uh.”

“Oh,” says Magnolio, deflating like a sad-looking balloon after a child’s birthday party. “That was supposed to work.”

“Is it because it’s not ‘true love’s kiss’ or whatever?” you ask, using your sleeve to wipe away the smudge left behind by your lips.

“I don’t know,” Magnolio replies, and to your horror, his voice sounds thick with tears. As you watch, he sniffles and a tear slips free from his thick lashes, running down his face and onto his shirt. It is quickly followed by many more, and you realise that the mirror doesn’t have to be broken for this poor man to shatter.

“Hey, hey,” you say, breathless as you carry the mirror back inside. “Maybe it’s just because it’s not the full moon. We’ll try again in a week or two—whenever it is. Alright?”

“Alright,” Magnolio burbles, using his sleeves to wipe at his face even as more tears slide down his flushed cheeks. “We’ll try again. I have your word?”

“You have my word,” you say, and thank your lucky stars that you’ll be waking from this dream sooner rather than later.

[shining-red-diamond]

Looking for the Mikrokosmos (Teaser 1)

Words: 800+

Pairing: BTS x OCs

Rating: PG-15

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: descriptions of violence, mentions of kidnapping and infertility, blood, plots of genocide, suggestive themes

The Prince and I (Book 1)

At 22, Prince Seokjin was on top of the world having found the woman of his dreams. Unfortunately, a sickness plagued the kingdom, and he lost his fiancée to it. He never fully got past it. Five years later at 27, Jin finds himself in an arranged engagement with Princess Leah of the Indigo Kingdom. However, he could never see her as anything more than a little sister figure to him no matter how hard he tried to love her the way he loved his deceased fiancée. He does take a new liking to his new maid, Marriell, but he still feels as if he might besmirch his former fiancée’s memory and anger the princess’s father. But there’s also a bigger problem at hand: how is he to take care of his people if the Mikrokosmos crystals are nothing more than a fairytale? And is there a plot to overthrow the kingdom through mass genocide?

-

Wings of Light (Book 2)

After being cursed by an evil witch, Min Yoongi was banished from the kingdom and into the forest for unknowingly striking fear into the kingdom. For five hundred years, he lived in exile in a dark, abandoned mansion he had fixed up to be his home. Bitter and alone, he spent most of his days researching multiple ways to turn back human again. In doing so, he stumbled upon the spell-reversing powers of the Mikrokosmos crystals, but he was stuck with not knowing how to start his journey. When a certain fairy enters his life on accident, he immediately believes she knows where the Mikrokosmos crystals might be to lift the vampire’s curse from him.

-

The Price of Freedom (Book 3)

Jung Hoseok had been tossed around from kingdom to kingdom his whole life as a pet for royal families. Even in his human form, he still gets treated as if he were a circus sideshow. After escaping imprisonment for being accused of killing one of the horse trainers, he is once again captured but by the Kim family’s stablemen. In the presence of Prince Seokjin, he’s treated differently and is allowed to live in the palace until he’s back on his feet. Just as he’s about to leave, another horse creature is captured. After freeing her, she tells him about her quest to find the Mikrokosmos crystals and her plea for help to free the mystic creatures from slavery, and he immediately joins her if it means the mistreated can go free.

-

Silver Lining (Book 4)

Serving the Kim family alongside his wife Soonae was always a privilege that he cherished. Money was never a huge problem for them since they could both use magic to provide for themselves in terms of food and clothing, but they did save a large sum of what they earned towards a future child they both desired deeply. When their money is stolen and their home in the forest is destroyed by pirates, all of their dreams seem to be crushed; and it didn’t help when an evil dragon stole Soonae’s magical abilities and began attacking the kingdom just before the royal wedding. But once word of the rumored Mikrokosmos crystals began spreading around, the couple decide that they’re going to take on the journey to take their lives back.

-

Love Came in Waves (Book 5)

Jimin and his fox companion Jepsen were always quick on their feet, and they both used it to their advantage in thievery. Jimin was also a skilled hunter, so he and Jepsen never went hungry. But after his fellow elves are facing famine due to the rationalization of the gold and silver, he knows he can’t sit and do nothing while his people starve to death. He seeks out the Mikrokosmos crystals, and along the way he meets a mysterious girl who almost immediately steals his heart. Could she also be a key factor in finding the crystals while also helping her?

-

Taehyung was never sure who had it worse: him or his friend Yoongi. Both of them were feared by many, so they both spent most days in isolation. Away from hurting others. Unlike Yoongi, Taehyung wasn’t cursed. He was born a werewolf and once led his own pack; but after the sickness plagued the kingdom and killed off the ones closest to him, he retreated to the forest where he spends his days trying to help other creatures who might be struggling. However, when he meets General Kirsten, he learns about the Mikrokosmos crystals and how they could be used if they are real. Taehyung decides he’s in, but unaware of the many dangers and challenges it brings.

-

Since his eighteenth birthday, Jungkook has been Prince Seokjin’s personal guard and is treated almost like a younger brother. His loyalty to the Kim family never waivers, and he always does a task without question. When the Kim family is threatened by an evil dragon before the royal wedding, he’s asked to protect Princess Leah at all costs. At first, it seems like a regular job guarding a member of a royal family, but as time went on Jungkook begins to fall in love with the princess despite her being promised to his friend. Can he resist his feelings long enough to stay loyal to his friend, or will he somehow prove himself worthy for Leah’s hand by searching for the legendary Mikrokosmos crystals?

[mst3kproject]

She Freak

Oh, boy, this is going to be a fucking delight.  If the 1932 movie Freaks were Invasion of the Saucer Men, She Freak would be Attack of the The Eye Creatures.  Freaks is a very troubling movie, but it does go to great effort to present the denizens of the sideshow as human beings who can be loving, greedy, heartbroken, or naïve as much as anyone else, and who find family in each other when the rest of the world rejects them – and must be very careful who they let into that club.  The horror of the story is derived as much from their predicament as from the fate of Cleopatra.  She Freak is… not like that.

A woman named Jade Cochrane works at a little diner somewhere in the south, quietly (and sometimes not-so-quietly) enduring sexual harassment from both the customers and her married boss.  Wanting more out of life, she quits her job and goes looking for work at a passing carnival, which she figures will at least allow her to travel.  From there she sets her sights on marrying Steve St. John, the owner of the freak show and the richest man connected with this community. Unfortunately for everybody around her, even this very moderate form of power corrupts Jade to the core, and after too much of her mistreatment, the sideshow stars take a horrible revenge!

The opening sequence is a bunch of carnival footage in which everybody looks bored, worryingly reminiscent of both Carnival Magic and MUZ.  Even worse, quite a bit of it is shot by somebody sitting on a moving ferris wheel or other midway ride.  I’ve never been able to enjoy midway rides because I get motion sickness (I can’t see J. J. Abrams movies in theatres for the same reason), so this was not a fun experience for me, even on my tiny laptop screen.  It goes on way too long, and most of it doesn’t even have any credits over it.  Crow would have fled to go throw up in a corner.

The moment I knew She Freak belonged on MST3K, however, is this shot:

What the hell does that sign say?  YHJCY A+ FTJB?  What does it mean?  Is it an acronym?  A secret code?  An in-joke? A message to or from aliens?  That would have fascinated Mike and the ‘bots.  They’d have built a whole host sketch around that sign.

She Freak is tooth-rattlingly bad in many different ways.  I don’t know what any of the people in it think they’re doing but it sure isn’t acting.  It’s relentlessly padded, full of pointless footage of putting the midway up, taking the midway down, putting the midway back up again, and carnival-goers wandering around looking dazed.  At one point we have to watch a stripper do her act, to a chorus of background hooting and applause that sure isn’t coming from the bored-to-shit audience we see.  Most of the film feels like nothing is happening, and then what ought to have been the entire plot is crammed into the last fifteen minutes.

The one place where there is a glimmer of competence is in a couple of quite nice directing choices.  There’s a scene where Jade leaves her new husband with his buddies and sneaks off to bang the guy who runs the ferris wheel, Blackie (don’t worry, he’s white. She Freak has a little person called ‘Shorty’, but to my relief it wasn’t tasteless enough to cast a character named ‘Blackie’ as an African American) that makes a very good use of shadows to tell us what’s going on in two places at once.  Pity the film stock is so crappy it almost ruins it.  I also liked how Jade’s scenes with Blackie have proper dialogue, while Steve woos her in a series of montages.  Jade wants to spend time with Blackie, while her marriage to Steve is something she goes through the motions of and gets out of the way.

She Freak really has no right to tout itself as a remake of Freaks, for the simple reason that it isn’t even about the sideshow.  The older movie had characters like Hans the dwarf and Daisy and Violet the conjoined twins, who were people with relationships and roles in the plot.  In She Freak we never even see the sideshow that so upsets Jade in an early scene.  There’s Shorty, the little guy in a cowboy hat who works for the carnival, but when we see him he’s acting like he’s Steve’s friend and assistant rather than one of the exhibits.  An armless woman and a few people in funny makeup appear at the climax, but we’ve never seen them before and we have no idea who they are.  Where the hell is the ‘Alligator Girl’ the banners promised?

It’s probably all for the best.  If there had been any ‘unusual people’ with major roles in the movie it would doubtless have treated them in a disgusting and exploitative manner.  But what’s on screen shouldn’t even pretend to be a remake of Freaks.

As the owner of the sideshow, Steve insists that he cares about his employees and considers them ‘human beings, just like you and me’. He tells Jade that many of them came from abusive homes, and that in his show they’re able to earn a living and be around others who won’t judge them.  This is a reasonably noble sentiment, but what we are subsequently shown is somewhat at odds with it.  Steve says his employees are also his friends, but he hangs out and plays cards with the other carnies, not with them.  When Shorty tells him that Jade is cheating on him, Steve slaps him like he would a misbehaving child.  This is not how people treat friends and equals.

You may have guessed where this is heading: in one of my favourite running complaints, yep, we have nobody to root for in this movie.  We’re probably supposed to like Steve, but he’s bland and his actions don’t agree with his words insisting he’s a nice, compassionate guy. The character from whose point of view we see the events is of course Jade, but Jade is the villain of the movie and we’re watching it to see her hubris destroy her.  That means the protagonists ought to be the sideshow people themselves, but since we never actually meet them, their revenge is meaningless. In this context they are not human beings, they are not characters, they are merely what Jade has been calling them all along: monsters.

(Shorty, by the way, is played by Felix Silla, who is the closest thing this movie has to a star. He was Cousin Itt on the Addams Family TV show.)

She Freak presents us with several reasons why we ought to dislike Jade.  She’s introduced working at the greasy little diner, where she turns down a date first with a customer and then with her boss.  The customer accepts this gracefully but the boss does not.  The scene tries to show us Jade as an uppity bitch who thinks she’s too good for other people, but her boss is such a slimy toad that we have to take her side.  She tells us how her mother married too young and lost any chance at her own dreams, and while Claire Brennan is a terrible actress, the story is one that inspires sympathy.  When Jade seizes on the carnival as her chance for escape she becomes downright pathetic.  I mean, how awful is your life if a travelling midway and sideshow seems like a step up in the world?

Of course, as the movie continues we find that Jade really is just a snotty bitch whose idea of ‘getting more out of life’ is having a rich husband to carry her bags when she goes shopping. She sees others only as what they can provide to her – Steve for money, Blackie for sex.  This attitude blinds her to others’ true intentions.  She is entirely oblivious to the fact that Blackie is an abusive bastard or that Steve honestly loves her.  The lesson of the movie seems to be ‘beware of women who want more out of life.’  She should have known her place!

This is a pretty nasty attitude towards women but there are other female characters who are treated a bit better.  Pat the stripper tried marriage and domesticity and didn’t like it.  She seems to enjoy working at the carnival and is gregarious and kind-hearted.  We’re invited to leer at her performance but she’s presented as much less trashy than Jade, who considers herself above such things. Pat continues to try to be a friend to Jade for as long as she can, and keeps giving her second chances long after it should be obvious that Jade isn’t interested in reciprocating her kindness. There’s also Olga the fortune-teller, who needed to support herself after her husband died.  The three of them even manage to have conversations that pass the Bechdel test.  In a movie called She-Freak that’s almost impressive.

The ending of She Freak is the only place where it really even seems inspired by Freaks.  The sideshow employees take their revenge on Jade, and we see her on display in the sideshow, licking a snake and wearing some unconvincing Harvey Dent makeup.  This is supposed to feel like justice, in that she has become what she most hated, but it’s been so watered down by the movie’s refusal to humanize the sideshow, or even to show us Jade interacting with them at all, that it has no power to horrify.  It’s a big letdown after the opening scene that promised us a horrible freak that was once a human being.  Why does her burned side have an elf ear?

Invasion of the Saucer Men was not a good movie, at all, but it still deserved better than Attack of the The Eye Creatures.  It’s up for debate whether Freaks was technically ‘good’ but it was an ambitious film with much to say about how human beings treat one another and about the eugenics movement of the 1930s.  In fact, the US National Film Registry considers Freaks one of the most significant films ever made, and it currently boasts a 94% on Rotten Tomatoes.  The fact that writer David Friedman claimed She Freak was a remake of Freaks just proves that, like the audiences who booed that film in 1932, he never bothered to understand it.

[mamabearcat]

INUKAG Fanfic Rec List - SFW

Over the last few years, I’ve suffered from on again/ off again insomnia, where some nights I go to bed, don’t sleep at all, and then get up again – rinse and repeat. Rather than spending all night looking at the ceiling and pondering my place in the universe, I pass the time by reading fanfiction. A LOT of fanfiction. And now you, dear reader, get to reap the benefits.

All these fics are T Rated and under by the writer. Also, I’ve only included COMPLETED fics, so there will be some missing from this list that I would absolutely recommend. I have a huge ass list of uncompleted favourites also, but I understand that not everyone likes losing their heart to a fic only to find out that it was last updated in 2005. Log onto fanfiction.net and go through the fics I’m ‘following’ if you want to see those - I’m bearpluscat on there too.

I don’t claim this to be an exhaustive list, or the best of the best; it’s not even all of my favourites. This is just a list of fics that I have really enjoyed and would happily read again, and thought others might enjoy too. There’s probably some that I’ve forgotten, in fact I’m sure there are, so please don’t be upset if you’ve written an Inuyasha fic and I haven’t put it on here!

I’ll also post a list of NSFW fic recs (which is a lot longer - does that infer something about me, or the Inuyasha fandom in general?)

SHORT FICS (Less than 20,000 words)

Feminine Wiles  By grandlarseny: Kagome's broken Inuyasa's rosary! But fear not! Kaede has another one. But what's this? KAGOME HAS TO PUT IT ON HIM HERSELF? Watch Kagome carry out her kinda evil plots on an unsuspecting halfbreed with some SangoMiroku spying on the side Rated: Fiction T - Humor/Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 9,770 Published: Jan 27, 2004 

Good Dog  By FrameofMind: Oneshot. Inuyasha’s being strangely...nice. But Kagome is about to discover that it is, in fact, possible to have too much of a good thing... InuKag Rated: Fiction K+ - Romance/Humor - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 13,723 Published: Oct 4, 2005

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not By TouchofPixieDust: Inuyasha watches as Kagome shows Shippo how to play the flower petal fortune telling game, He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. It has the hanyou asking himself all sorts of questions. Rated: Fiction K+ - Romance/Humor - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 2,346 Published: Feb 28, 2006 

The Talk  By TouchofPixieDust: Mrs. Higurashi explains the facts of life to Inuyasha and Kagome. This is The Talk excerpt that was requested from my story Kagome's Baby. Rated: Fiction T - Humor - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 2,885 Published: Jul 21, 2006

Sick As A Dog  By Bons Baisers: Woes and wails and puppy dog tales, that's what Inuyasha's made of! When a puppy infected with canine distemper bites Inuyasha, all sorts of hell break loose for everyone's favorite hanyou. Won IYFG's Best Oneshot award and won second for Best Romance. Rated: Fiction T - Romance/Humor - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 11,305 -Published: Apr 2, 2007

Of Demons and Schoolgirls  By Mustard Yellow Sunshine: That jerk, Inuyasha... what right did he have to destroy the demon and save her from certain peril? Bastard. Rated: Fiction T - Humor/Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 5,645 - Published: May 12, 2007

Kiss of Life By LadyCash: Kagome is injured, far from the well and modern medicine. What can be done to save her, and what will InuYasha do? Rated: Fiction T - Drama/Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 5,369 - Published: Jan 28, 2008

Earthshake By SugarRos: COMPLETE:: Canon:: *WINNER BEST DARK/DRAMA 2009* Natural Disasters are nothing to laugh at... and so Kagome realizes as she's trapped, hundreds of feet beneath the rubble of what was once her school, with her classmates dying one by one, and absolutely no hope of rescue. Rated: Fiction T - Angst/Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Chapters: 2 - Words: 14,528 - Published: Feb 15, 2008 

Blood and Bandages By Aryndiel: Kagome comes home to find Inuyasha badly injured and reacts in a way that surprises her mother. Mrs. Higurashi wonders: who is this strong, unwavering young woman who looks like her little girl?Rated: Fiction T - Drama/Hurt/Comfort - Kagome H., Kagome's mother - Words: 3,166 - Published: Apr 9, 2008

If I Were You By FrameofMind: Oneshot. A good deed lands Inuyasha and Kagome in an odd predicament... Rated: Fiction T - Humor/Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 10,544 - Published: Apr 27, 2009 

White Dogs on Blue Cotton By ArtisteFish: Caught up in the rush following her unexpected return to the past and to the man she loves, Kagome realizes a little late that some of her wardrobe choices aren't quite as private as they used to be. Post-canon, InuKag reunion, super-duper fluffy. Rated: Fiction T - Romance/Humor - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 2,198 - Published: Feb 23, 2016

I Hear Your Silence By KeiChanz: Her silence spoke louder than any words ever could. Rated: Fiction T - Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 8,469 - Published: Jul 6, 2016

The Pilfered Bride By ArtisteFish: "If your husband didn't want you gone, he should have taken better care not to lose you." She knew she should have been more careful, she should have listened to Sango, she should never have let her guard down when her guard-dog wasn't around to watch her back. Post-canon, InuKag Rated: Fiction T - Romance/Humor - [Inuyasha, Kagome H.] - Words: 7,576 - Published: May 12, 2017

Not Much Longer Would You Be Mine By WitchyGirl99: There was this one girl. Her name was Kikyo Hidaka, and she looked at Inuyasha the way that she looked at everyone else. He'd think of Newton's first law of motion: a body continues its state of rest or uniform motion unless it is acted up on by an external force. His current state wasn't satisfactory. He needed an external force. Enter Kagome Higurashi. InuKag. Rated: Fiction T - Romance/Drama - [Inuyasha, Kagome H.] - Chapters: 2 - Words: 14,541 - Published: Dec 26, 2017 

Protect By KeiChanz: Kagome receives some unwanted male attention while staying at a village and it leaves her feeling uneasy. Inuyasha is having none of that. Rated: Fiction T - Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 8,548 - Published: Mar 12, 2018

For Her By akitokihojo: "Who did this to you?" Inuyasha seethed. Kagome's expression twisted sadly, the trembling in her chin and bottom lip bringing something to ache dully within his chest. She shook her head, looking down before shrugging her shoulders, and he tensed his fingers against her jaw so as not to allow her to completely turn away from him. Rated: Fiction K+ - Drama/Hurt/Comfort - [Inuyasha, Kagome H.] [Sango, Miroku] - Words: 4,490 - Published: Sep 8 2019

 CHAPTER FICS

Father Figure By Torenza: Kagome’s world turns upside down when her mother brings a new man into the home – her ‘surprise’ fiancé. But Kagome feels far from neglected as she finds her place at home threatened, and her double life in the past jeopardised. Rated: Fiction T - Drama - Chapters: 13 - Words: 68,542 - Published: Feb 8, 2003 

Kagome's Baby By TouchofPixieDust: There is a new addition to the Inuyasha gang. How will the group react? Can Kagome be a jewel shard hunter AND a mother? Rated: Fiction T - Romance - Kagome H., Inuyasha - Chapters: 21 - Words: 59,269 - Published: May 14, 2005 

Freak Attraction By ArtisteFish: A birthday outing to see a foreign circus turns into a nightmarish mistake when Kagome stumbles upon a circus of a very different nature and meets a sideshow freak with dog ears and a human heart. AU, Complete Rated: Fiction T - Supernatural/Drama - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Chapters: 12 - Words: 101,398 - Published: May 29, 2015

Adorable Curse By Alannada: [Complete] Once upon a time there was a handsome prince cursed in the most horrific way. Would a simple, yet fair miko save the prince? True love kisses, spelled artifacts and much more awaits Inuyasha crew in this story. Rated: Fiction K - Humor - [Inuyasha, Kagome H.] Shippō - Chapters: 39 - Words: 48,602 Published: Aug 12, 2017