#we all live in society‚ yeah? we all have a duty to each other?

[simfuldelights]

You know how on reality TV shows, they show a lot of random people with their faces blurred if they’re filming in public? It’s because they never legally agreed to be filmed.

You don’t have to stand by while random people record you if you don’t want to. Unfortunately, you can’t be aware of EVERYTHING all the time, so it’s not foolproof, but if you see someone recording you, say as clearly as you can to the camera that they do not have the right to film you.

I’m not a lawyer or anything but I’m PRETTY SURE if you have my recorded non-compliance and you continue to violate my right to privacy anyway, I’m not going to be the one in any trouble.

[tarjapearce]

Hi hi! Thank you for letting me go ahead and send it through! I didn’t want to overwhelm you, that’s absolutely fine still take your time and keep taking those breaks mamas!

I’ve seen a lot of single dilf Miguel x reader but I don’t think I’ve ever read where reader was a single parent. So I was thinking reader is new to spider society and on the day she’s told to join she has to bring her baby because she didn’t have a babysitter. Well Miguel sees her and it’s like he’s instantly drawn to her like sunflowers are to the sun, sunflowers move where the sun goes and when the sun doesn’t shine they face each other (She’s kinda like his day and night if that makes sense) but instead of acting on it he dismisses her but kinda admires her and her baby from a distance.

Well one day she’s having a small part for the main group and she invited Miguel because she always felt the feelings but also dismissed them. Then after the party he stays to help and the end up getting closer and yeah. It can be nsfw I don’t mind, I also hope this makes sense it’s been in my mind for a while and you’d be so good for this!

The rest is all up to you if you decide to write it pretty girl. Just remember to take your time and all the breaks you need. Mental, physical, and emotional health is important don’t overwork yourself 💕

Im so sorry this taken me soo long. Hope this make it justice 😊❤️. Thanks for requesting dear.

If it wasn't for the webs that stopped Rhino as he was about to deliver the last blow to you, you'd be certainly gravely injured or worse.

Another Spiderwoman, clad in a red, yellow and black suit had helped you through. Both of your minds in sync, that soon earned you the win over a now unconscious Rhino.

She introduced herself as Jessica Drew. Another Spiderwoman from another universe. At first her explanation of what the Arachnohumanoid-Polymultiverse was, had your head spinning and confused, but after quite a while of visiting you on duty, and clearing up as much questions you needed, you had been officially 'invited' to join, by Miguel’s orders.

You've never met the man, but the way people talked about him, made you not only curious but excited to meet him. Everyone described him as a good yet scary boss.

----

"Let's go"

"Hope you don't mind?" Your nervous smile reached Jess as you packed in your child's stuff in the baby sling. A couple of diapers, extra clothes and bottles.

"Look at this beautiful boy" Jessica held him as you finished packing up stuff, "Didn't know you had one"

"Oh, well. You never asked. Plus we always met on duty. The babysitter I get for him called in sick and I have none as a back up. Hope Miguel doesn't mind."

"What about his dad?"

Your head shook softly and sighed.

"He decided to not be part of our lives."

Jessica just nodded, lips pursing.

"His loss, really. Anyways, ready to go?"

------

Not even in your wildest dreams you'd imagine something as The Babylon Tower or HQ as most Spiders called it, could exist. Different sort of Spiders paraded around and greeted Jess upon her arrival.

Some even greeted your toddler that cooed and giggled upon the many heroes that came his way.

"Let's get you to Miguel." Jess walked ahead and you followed, you baby's eyes wandered, marveling at the different colors and people. You'd sometimes make hamocs and web playgrounds for him to be more active. Your babysitter was the only person you could actually trust your identity, she had even helped you sometimes by calling the cops, or even fixing your suit.

Another man in a pink bathrobe approached and gasped at your baby

"Please tell me we're getting a Spider Parents exclusive division now."

You chuckled and Jess just rolled her eyes

"Sweetie, this is Peter."

"As in Peter Parker?"

"Nah. As in Peter Benjamin 'B' Parker."

"Oh... And whose that cutie over there?" Your eyes trailed to Mayday as she beamed at you.

"Mayday. A lil spider in growth"

"She has spider powers?! Oh my goodness!"

"It's chaos, I know. What about yours?"

"Normal baby so far. Should I be concerned?"

"Not really, it comes in the least unexpected moment and them BAM! Spider baby. "

You giggled as you made your way through the halls to a much more secluded and dark area.

"Miguel?"

Your baby couldn't help but babble as a hulking figure approached from the furthest corner.

"He's so dramatic" Peter whispered and again, you giggled under your mouth.

Jess introduced you both and explained your progress to him. Apparently they had been observing you for quite the time.

" I apologize for bringing my child. My babysitter called in sick."

"No problem."

Even though his voice was calm, the coldness in it made you recoil to yourself. His scrutinizing gaze fixed on you and your baby. By instinct you held him close.

Red eyes settled on yours, but the subtle stare contest was interrupted by the anomaly alarm.

-----

As your time in the Spider Society advanced, your interactions with Miguel improved significantly, and by that it'd mean longer conversations, a joke here and there and of course moments so subtle between you both that you had to be quite analytical to know that he gave glances your way or lean to you slightly whenever speaking to him.

Not that you were inmune to his looks, but his patience stood proudly among his other virtues. And to your surprise he seemed to handle Mayday well enough. What actually made you to be drawn to him is that in one of your many occasions that you couldn't leave your baby boy alone, and brought him into HQ with you, he'd be instantly looking for Miguel.

Your cheeks would flush impossibly red as your baby clung to his leg and erupted in a bubbly laughter.

"God, I'm so so sorry, he just... seem to like the blue alot."

An airy chuckle was everything that escaped his lips. Of course there was so many questions he'd want to do out of curiosity. He had noticed you didn't wear a ring, neither talked about the baby's father. It was something he never seemed to coax out of you. No matter how subtle he was about it.

Pa pa

You both froze as your baby mumbled and grabbed a few strands of his hair.

"I'm so sorry..." You pried the baby away from him and fled the place as soon as you could. He just watched you leave, the inner turmoil in his heart was surely playing dirty. The way the baby had clung to him, and climbed ontop of his chest made his heart to leap after a long long while.

-----

You had been avoiding him, for sure. Ever since your little incident with the baby mumbling his first words, you had taken your distance with him. Of course you weren't ready for your baby's actions, but the fear of going through all that again, had surely dismissed all possible blooming feelings you had for your boss. Besides he seemed way too busy and aloof to try and pursue anything with anyone.

Not that you blamed him, the multiverse depended basically on him. It was for the best.

----

The moment you were falling asleep, your Spider senses tingled so hard you had a little headache coming your way.

Dread settled on your brain as your baby boy screamed and wailed.

No No No!

You were already darting towards his room, and pulled him with one of your webs towards you, holding onto him for dear life as the creature shredded his crib to bits with its elongated talons.

Your eyes went wide at the sudden action, your baby kept wailing in fear, earning the humanoid like creature to snap it's attention to you. You were fast, but the creature was faster and sliced through your flesh in one of your sides. You fell on your back protecting your son from the impact with a groan.

You needed to get out, or at least put your baby out of danger.

Survival mode kicked in as you dodged and took as much damage as you could from the creature that seemed way too keen into hurting your child.

You fought but exhaustion was taking over, the blows of the creature only seemed harder and powerful, but no matter what your priority was to keep your child safe, even if it costed your life.

The creature pounced on you, but the final blow never came. There was a commotion as you tried to get up, all you could hear was inhuman shrieks, growlings and finally the engine of a too familiar motorcycle revving up.

Your baby was pried away from your hands and you whimpered

"N-No!" even in your injured state, your mother instinct kicked in.

Your name was called, several times until you were held against a sturdy yet warm body with such care and tenderness that stilled your thrashing body. Vision blurred, but the last thing you saw the led lights of a blue and red suit, red eyes staring at you with concern.

-----

You woke up in HQ's medical bay. Pain surging through your body as you tried to sit down, Miguel's hand stopped you. Face with his ever permanent frown and something else. Worry.

"Where's... Where's my baby?"

"He's fine. Out of danger." His hands reached for a new set of bandages, he took your arm gently and began replacing the bandages himself, some were stained in a fresh layer of blood.

The silence fell upon you both until he decided to break it.

"You... were brave. We still don't know what that creature was, yet you didn't hesitate to fight back."

"It was going for my son... If I would've got there a second too late..." Voice broke and eyes filled up with tears.

The knot only tightened around his throat upon remembering the anomaly alarm in your world and saw you fighting for your son's life. He didn't think twice before jumping into action.

"The anomaly was terminated."

Terminated, not contained.

"I see"

"Your safety is all that matters to... this organization"

To me

You nodded

"Thanks."

----

He had learned that you were a single parent thanks to Jessica. Something he had trouble understanding sometimes. How could a man abandon his own family? He'd give everything to have one more chance and at least make things right, he wouldn't interfere with Gabriella, no matter how much he'd like to, just to keep her safe and alive.

But seeing you fighting for your son, made that side of him he thought buried forever to claw back full force on him. You were a great mother that wouldn't hesitate to attack and lash out at everything that menaced your son. It was the last straw for him.

----

A couple of months had gone by since your incident, and as a retribution you had decided to do a small gathering. Not only to say thanks to them, but to also celebrate your son's birthday.

Wounds were properly healed thanks to Miguel's attention and cares. Music echoed through your apartment. You weren't sure he'd show up, but the invitation was delivered to him.

Your son was having the time of his life as Peter and Jess played with him. Mayday was such a great play date and everyone seemed to have a great time. A portal was open to your kitchen and Miguel stepped out. Suit underneath civilian clothes. It was weird to see him out of the blue and red suit you were always used to see.

"Hey" You smiled and he placed a little present in your hands.

"Hope he likes it."

"I'm sure he will, thanks."

Your smile turned bashful as he leaned on the kitchen counter. Your place seemed normal, cozy even. Full with your son and you pictures. One was cut out and the only trace of a man existing in your life was the forgotten hand you were oblivious in cutting out. And even so, he seemed unsure since his fingers were barely touching you or your son.

"Here." You offered a plate full of food, which he took and scarfed down.

"When was the last time you actually ate?"

His eyes locked on yours, wide by the sudden question.

"There is more if you want to."

"I don't want to overstep-"

"The rest already had their portion. And I frankly went a bit overboard with it. So it's fine."

Your baby's laughter roared from the other side, earning you a chuckle.

"I'm... sorry though"

"For?"

"Him, calling you that. I know what happened and I'm sure it's not nice to just-"

"Couldn't blame a baby. Is it... ok for me to ask what happened to the father?"

"He just decided that we weren't enough for him. So he went for a new one. Away from us."

His eyebrows knit deeper and a light scowl drew in his face.

"But, it's fine. It's less of a burden knowing that you don't have to raise another man child."

He chuckled and nodded

"You're a great mother." You served him another plate but stopped when the corner of his mouth was doused in sauce. Giggling you reached for napkin and got in your tip toes.

"Excuse me" You wiped his mouth and smiled, "Sorry, can't help it"

His hand went to the back of your nape and leaned down for a kiss.

"Lo siento..." (Im sorry)

It was something that felt out of his character, he knew much, but it couldn't be helped. You had come like a little storm that turned into a hurricane in his heart. And that harrowing night where he saw you fighting with everything you had, only grounded him into allowing himself to feel and experience for once.

You got in your tip toes again and pulled him down for a kiss. There was no words needed, just a look of mutual understanding and complicity between the both. A kiss in the palm of your hand sealed up the implicit deal.

You were his now.

[mostly-mundane-atla]

I LOVE HAHN. He spins in my head like a microwave plate. He could have been so much!!! He could have parelled Sokka's insecurities about his culture, by showing him up as the poster boy in the village. Only to fail at his single duty, PROTECT YUE. Lived his whole life next to her, believing that it'll continue forever, only for her to completely disappear??? (Would they have been united in their grief? Their shame?)

He grew up with Yue, like there is so much to explore with that, which could have expanded greatly into how we see Yue's character and the NWT. They could have been best friends, they could have barely stood each other, they could have been struggling to stay together while their community suffers under the war.

Unlike Sokka's skepticism, Hahn could have believed in spirits. He could have had such conviction in them that he was horrified. Perhaps he lost family members to spirits, perhaps he recieved premonitions of them, perhaps he knew deep down inside that if spirits could give life to Yue, they could always take it away. He could have always known Yue's time on earth was on a countdown, which caused him to be on guard with people around her, even herself, leading to all the issues in their relationship. Every single question people had of Yue? Every thought about whether or not she was happy, as a human, or if she'll be happy, as the moon? Exactly what Hahn thinks all the time.

Always hearing it's "annoying" to develop such minor characters. Fine whatever, I get annoyed too, that I have to rework the WTs constantly to fix the deadend stereotypes the creators slapped onto them. (Btw, could we develop water tribe characters without tearing down the WTs to make them "good natives" under their "oppressive society"? Please?) Because if the show keeps saying the water tribe has a strong community and Yue's whole thing is that she loves her people so much she'll sacrifice herself for them (note: not cause of her "daddy issues"), then yeah. I'd expect Hahn to be at least "tolerable".

But no, I guess the fandom has time to flesh the billionth minor fire nation character with sympathic racist headcanons! Again!! But not any on the people they ethnically erase. Too convenient to take out anger on sexist native stereotypes opposed to... all the other sexist characters in show, like the FN! Lmao.

I like this show a lot, but...this fandom............

Seconding everything. When i'm less tired i'd like to add my specific thoughts, but yeah, i thoroughly agree with all this.

[l-in-the-light]

En, on, giri and inherited will

Inspired by @mochiajclayne absolutely fantastic post about akuen, I decided to share my thoughts about how Japanese culture concepts are everywhere in One Piece. Might be unexpected for many, because One Piece feels like such a western type of story on the surface, it's not even set in Japan. But like always with Japanese popculture, no matter if it's Death Note, Silent Hill (especially Silent Hill since it's set in America, and yet it's so Japanese at it's core) or anything else (yes, that includes all the isekais), it's always heavily rooted in Japanese culture.

Let's start with "en", it's mostly referring to relationships between people, understood in a very broad sense of the word, like the environment you live in or the whole society/community, but also relations between things. It's often connected to reincarnation, en is the connection that accumulates through many past lives. I don't have a good link in english about the Japanese concept, but it's mostly the same in China and Korea, so here you go for the last one: Inyeon (Korean equivalement of en) in Korean culture. Like yeah, it will have some differences here and there, but the core concept is exactly the same.

Law described his connection to Luffy all the way back in Marineford as "akuen". Akuen is basically "en" + "aku" (evil), a connection to someone that is ill or negative in nature. Like your experiences with that person were negative and it might be the complex result of different connections and events leading up to that. It can be because two people are on two different ends of a conflict or because the communites they both lived in or important events in their lives lead them on the path to oppose each other, or it might be because of past lives. The only way to break akuen is dying in such a way that eliminates your life from the reincarnation cycle alltogether. Ouch. But I'm pretty sure One Piece will show us an alternative way of severing akuen connection. One of the greatest things about One Piece is how it takes traditional Japanese concepts and turns them upside down, but in a subtle way.

For example, it takes the concepts of on and giri and instead twists them into a new idea altogether: that of inherited will. Both on and giri are debts you have collected in your life. On by definition is the debt you can't ever truly repay and you're always bound by it, it's the debt to your ancestors, family, also emperor (who was believed to be set on his throne by gods). It's basically the debt you gain simply by being born into a family, cared for when you were a child incapable of doing it yet by yourself. You return it by always taking care of your parents, especially when they grow older, but you can never repay it in full, you will be always bound by it until the day they die. And sometimes, if your parents die before you even are able to start repaying the favour, you will be in a very unfortunate/disgraceful position, because you couldn't fullfill your duty.

Sometimes that debt can be more sinister and as a result of "on" obligation you will be forced to do in your life whatever your parents want you to do. If you dream to become a veterinarian because you love animals, but your parents own a huge company and want you to inherit it as the heir, you're basically morally obliged to fullfill their wish and that's also a form of debt of on. It's really heavy.

In One Piece, Law calls Cora-san his "onjin", using the very word of "on" + "person", signaling his debt to Cora has the nature of on. It's not because Cora-san was his parent or a religious figure akin to an emperor in his mind. It's because he gave Law his life, prolonged it, that's why this debt is an "on". It's very heavy and Law will never be able to repay it in full.

And then we have "giri" which is also a form of moral obligation. It's a debt of gratitude, kinda a favour for a favour, this one definitely can be repaid.

That's one example of it. Another good one is Chiffon's debt to the Strawhats because of Lola. She tells Bege they need to do everything in their might to repay that debt. It's so important she puts her own safety in the second place. In short, it's when someone does something for you, you gain "giri" that will be expected to be repaid. You might have heard that strangers in Japan are reluctant to impose their help on others, that's because they don't want to impose "giri" debt on them, because forcing someone into a "giri" is considered rude/unwelcome. There's one notable exception though: they don't have that problem with foreigners, because foreigners by definition aren't expected to follow the rules of Japanese culture to that extent. Since they're outsiders, it's fine, the giri doesn't apply to them, so it's safe to help them. That's why many foreigners are often offered helped and Japan has such a friendly image in their eyes as the result. If you're interested to know more about on and giri I reccommend Ruth Benedict's The Chrysanthemum and the Sword: Patterns of Japanese Culture. This book gained a bad rep because of the part it played in World War II, but it's still an excellent anthropological study and stays true even today.

And then we have inherited will in One Piece. It's a debt you take over yourself to repay, a debt of gratitude. Sometimes to repay it you will have to make someone's wish or dream come true (Chopper inheriting Hiluluk's dream), to avenge them (Akazaya Nine for Oden), to do things in their stead (Luffy saving Wano in place of Ace). It's basically the same concept as on and giri, but I think it does one revolutionary thing: anyone can inherit the will. It doesn't have to be kids that take it over from their parents, especially when it's a debt that's been carried over many generations (debts like that also exist in Japanese culture). No, anyone feeling like the wish and the passion of it moved their heart can take it on themselves and carry it. That's why we have Coby taking over for Garp instead of Luffy, for example, or Yamato taking over for Oden, despite the two of them having no "on" or "giri" debts that bind them to do that. They do it instead out of their own free will.

That's why I find "inherited will" a greater concept than on and giri, despite it being almost the same. There's just one important difference here: freedom of choice. Despite sometimes being extremely heavy, on and giri are beautiful concepts, and "inherited will" brings out the best of them while saying goodbye to the most limiting part: it sets you free from the cage of on. It replaces it with unconditional love instead that doesn't imprison you. You have no idea how big such a simple change like this can be.

That makes Law's ultimate quest to find out what Cora-san meant when he wanted him to find freedom even more important.

[noneedtoamputate]

Happy holidays, @land-sh. I'm your HBO War Secret Santa, and I hope you like this modern holiday AU featuring Ron and Carwood. I know you don't live in the United States, so I wanted to let you in on a few things in case you didn't know (and my apologies if you already know). The Pentagon, where Ron works, is home to the U.S. Departmen of Defense, and Instacart is an app where you can order groceries and get them delivered to your house. Fair warning for anyone else reading, it's just a tad spicy toward the end. I hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful holiday season, no matter how you celebrate!

Ron stared at the calendar hanging in the kitchen. If looks could set paper ablaze, the month of December would have burnt to a crisp thirty seconds ago.

He took another sip of his steaming black coffee, careful not to let any get on his Army dress uniform.

He took the calendar down from its hook and walked over to the kitchen table they purchased three years ago, when Ron accepted a desk job at the Pentagon and Carwood left active service and started teaching history at a local high school. 

Car’s messy handwriting filled almost all of the squares. He had Army reserve duty the first weekend of the month, and as assistant coach of the boys’ junior varsity basketball team, there were practices or games almost every weeknight up until holiday break. There was the neighborhood cookie exchange, where he promised to make his famous gingerbread people, and then there was the Santa Paws fundraising event at the humane society. Car volunteered to dress up as Santa.

Ron’s small, neat cursive only filled Mondays for his personal training appointments and on December 22, with one word and arrow ending on December 30.

Home.

No one at work would ever guess that Lt. Col. Ronald Speirs loved Christmas. He loved the lights, the movies, the gifts, and, most importantly, being with the people he loved. He hadn't made it back to his parents in Massachusetts for the holidays since moving to Washington. He finally had enough seniority in his department to take an entire week off in December.

He couldn't wait to taste his mother’s shortbread, to be spoiled by his sisters, to take his nieces and nephews sledding. There really was nothing like Christmastime in New England. 

He heard Car come down the stairs of their townhouse. He wore a black turtleneck sweater, fitted tan pants, and loafers. If Ron’s teacher had looked as half as good as Car, Ron would never have passed U.S. History. 

Car smiled at him as he walked over to the coffee maker. 

“The calendar’s getting pretty full,” Ron said, trying to sound casual.

“December’s always busy,” Car replied as he sat down across from his husband. “But not too busy that we can't find time for each other.”

“Movies?” Ron asked. 

“Of course. Die Hard. Love Actually. We’ll watch them all.”

Ron leaned closer. 

“And we’ll drive around to look at the lights?” Ron was a sucker for Christmas lights.

Car nodded. “I’ll drive, so you can really look at the displays.”

Ron smiled. “Well, if that isn't love, I don't know what is.” He reached over to kiss Car.

“I gotta run.” Car picked up his travel mug. “Have a good day. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Ron replied.

He finished his coffee and tried to get into work mode, the mode where no one would guess he loved watching Home Alone with his husband and dog and a fire roaring in their living room.

*

The next week, Ron looked at the calendar again. 

He was not happy.

“Why do you have ‘choir concert’ filled in on Wednesday?” Ron asked as Car buttered his toast.

“Yeah, about that …” Car trailed off as he nervously scratched his head. “Mrs. Ramirez needed some help setting up for the holiday show.”

“That was supposed to be movie night.” Ron tried not to sound too upset. 

“I know,” Car conceded. “Practice gets out early Friday night. We’ll have movie night then. I’ll even make the popcorn.”

“With extra butter?” Car nodded, Ron’s mouth curled up into what was almost a smile.

“It's a date,” Ron replied, and gave his husband a kiss.

But movie night never happened. A student teacher’s car wouldn't start in the faculty parking lot. Car tried jumping it, and when that didn't work, he waited while they called a tow company and gave them a ride to their apartment. 

By the time Car got home, Ron didn't feel like watching anything. 

“What was I supposed to do?” he asked Ron. “I couldn't just leave them there.”

“Of course not,” Ron agreed. 

But Ron lost his patience the following week when he walked into their home office and saw Car furiously typing away on the computer keyboard. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Ron said. He stood behind Car and put his hands on Car’s shoulders, giving them a gentle rub. 

Car moved away from Ron’s touch and rubbed his temples. 

“What's the matter?” Ron asked. 

“Two students asked for recommendation letters at the last minute. I need to finish these tonight.”

Ron narrowed his gaze. “You could have said no.”

Car sighed. “No, I couldn't. They’re great kids. Smart, responsible …”

Ron cut him off. “Asking for a recommendation letter at the last minute isn't responsible.”

The two just stared at each other. 

“You need to eat,” Ron finally said.

“I'll grab something when I'm finished.” Car went back to looking at the monitor. 

“And I guess this means no looking at lights tonight.” Ron crossed his arms.

Lulu came into the room and nuzzled up to Car, looking for some love. 

“Can you take her? I can't focus with her with trying to get attention “

“You don't even have time for the dog?” Ron asked, no longer hiding his anger. He leaned down to pet Lulu. “C’mon, girl, let's go for a walk.”

Ron set off on a good clip toward the park, Lulu happily keeping up the pace. 

Why does he do this? Why does he put everyone first?

He felt disloyal asking himself the question, because the way Car looked out for people was one of the reasons Ron loved him so much. 

Ron hated admitting that he felt jealous of all the attention Car had shown other people this month while making no time for him, or so it seemed.

And sadness crept over him. They seemed so distant over the last few weeks. No cuddling on the couch, binging the latest series. No long conversations over dinner. No spooning in bed before falling asleep.

And certainly no sex.

The brisk air and exercise cleared his head a bit, but he still paused for a second before opening the front door. The house stood quiet, and the chicken tetrazzini on top of the stove remained untouched. 

He threw the baking dish back into the oven to reheat and poured dog food into Lulu’s bowl. He ate dinner alone. He rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. He sorted the mail and cleaned out the fridge. When he ran out things to do, he poured himself two fingers of Scotch and tried to read a book, but he read the same page over and over. It was only 9:30 pm, and he wasn't tired, but he gave up and got ready for bed. 

It was just before midnight when Car finally made it upstairs. He didn't say anything as he took off his clothes and slipped into bed, staying far away from Ron’s side. 

“You're going to wear yourself out,” Ron said quietly.

“I'll be fine,” Car replied. Soon, his deep breaths signaled that he was asleep.

Ron put his hands behind his head and stayed awake for two more hours.

*

On the morning they planned to leave for Ron’s parents, Car woke up with the flu: Body aches, chills, and a pounding headache.

He wouldn't admit it. “Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow,” he told Ron. 

Ron titled his head to one side and gave Carwood that Ron Speirs look.

“It's possible,” Car said meekly, not really sounding convinced himself.

Ron called his mom and dad and explained the situation. Though disappointed, they completely understood and sent their love to Car.

He put in an Instacart order. There was not a lot of food in the house, as they planned to be gone for a week. Plenty of Gatorade, rice, bananas, bread for toast. All the ingredients for chicken soup, and easy meals for Ron to eat in between caregiving duties. 

The next day, he felt even worse. Ron added another bedspread on top of him for warmth and plugged in a heating pad for him to use. 

“You don’t need to stay here. Go to your parents. I can take care of …” Before Car get the last word of the sentence out, he started coughing. 

Ron rubbed his back. 

“I'm sorry,” Car said, once he caught his breath.

“No reason to apologize for coughing,” Ron replied. 

“No, not the coughing. For …” He started coughing again. 

Ron took a deep breath. He’d been trying to avoid thinking about what he was missing at home. His family, the epic games of Yahtzee, his mom's roast lamb on Christmas Day. 

But he knew Car hadn't gotten sick on purpose. If Ron had gotten sick right before they were supposed to go to West Virginia for the holidays, Car would have taken care of him without a second thought.

“It's okay,” Ron said. 

Ron couldn't have said that the day before and meant it. But today, he did.

*

On Christmas Day, Car felt well enough to get into the shower by himself. They exchanged gifts. Ron bought Car a new messenger bag for work, and Car bought Ron the watch he’d had his eye on for a while. Ron made chicken soup for lunch, and they finally watched Home Alone together on the couch. Car felt asleep halfway through, but Ron could tell he was finally on the mend. 

The rest of the week was mainly more of the same. Ron would make something for lunch, and they would watch one of the holiday movies they never got around to before Car got sick: Gremlins, Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street, It's a Wonderful Life. Each day, they would sit a little closer on the couch to one another, hold hands, spoon. 

New Year’s Eve arrived, and Car felt great. They had an invitation to a party, but they decided it was bit soon to go out.

Ron, being a great cook, made steak and lobster tails for lunch. They splurged on a bottle of good champagne and talked and laughed like they hadn't the entire month of December. 

They turned on a football game, and Ron fell asleep before halftime. He woke up to the feeling of Car’s fingers in his hair.

“I didn't mean to take a nap,” he said, reaching for his husband's hand. 

“You needed it. You've been taking care of me all week.”

Ron stroked Car’s cheek and reached in for a kiss. 

They started slow, almost uncertain, the tension of the last few weeks still present. But then Car traced his tongue along Ron’s earlobe, a surefire way to get Ron hard. Wordlessly, they walked upstairs to the bedroom.

Car started undressing Ron, taking his time. Ron hadn't realized how touch starved he was for Car's hands and lips. He kissed his neck and worked his way down, nuzzling Ron’s chest with his stubble and gently biting Ron’s nipples. Ron couldn't help letting out a moan, and he could feel Car smile against him.

He let out an actual groan when Car grabbed him, stroking him exactly the way he liked. He put the head of Ron’s cock in his mouth and teased him, before taking it all in.

Ron tried to pull away, but Car shook him off. “I want to take care of you,” he said. 

Ron realized that for all the things Car did for other people, he would only do this for Ron. This was just for the two of them. He had no reason to be jealous.

Ron realized and ran his fingers through Car’s hair, staying in the moment and taking in every sensation. He knew he wouldn't last long, and that it wouldn't matter. 

Ron said his husband’s name as he came, and Car kept him in his mouth and teased the inside of his thighs as he came down. He took Ron in his arms, and Ron lay his head on Car’s chest. 

Another thing no one at the Pentagon would guess was how much Ron loved the time after making love, when they would hold each other and talk quietly. He didn't used to, not before he met Car. It was one of the ways he knew Car was the man for him. 

They stayed quiet for longer than usual, enjoying the closeness.

“I am sorry you didn't make it home for Christmas,” Car finally said. “You said was okay, but I know how much it meant to you.”

Ron kissed him. “I was home for Christmas.” He looked the man who meant everything to him in the eye.

“You are my home.”

[hoursofreading]

As a leftist, my core political assumption is that we are all responsible for each other’s material well-being, that we have a duty to build the kind of society where everyone’s basic needs are met, where everyone enjoys a certain degree of material comfort, and where our rights are respected equally regardless of race, religious, sexual and gender identity, ethnicity, or creed. That is the kind of mutual caring that I signed up for when I became politically conscious as a teenager. I never signed up for a vision of a society that helps everyone out there to constantly feel valid, mostly because society could never achieve such a thing. Nobody walks around feeling good about themselves all the time! Where on earth did people get the idea that human beings are meant to enjoy a permanent sense of mental security and social validity? That’s a totally unworkable and in fact quite cruel standard. If you want to be good to yourself, I suggest that you stop expecting society to be your therapist and go see licensed medical professionals in private to address the issues in your life that are appropriately treated that way. And if you want to be good to your society, I suggest you help to defeat the medicalization of everything, the casualization of the concept of trauma, the celebration of mental disorders, the assumption that everything that makes us unhappy is an injustice, the insistence that all conflict is abuse, and the infantilization of the human animal. That’s the best way to help. I would never respond to someone telling me that they’re in pain by saying that I don’t care. In fact I’ve spent hours talking complete strangers through mental health crises. But if you care for people you try to walk them towards self-reliance, dignity, and toughness. Not from a lack of compassion, but precisely out of compassion. What compassion calls for is not pop therapy or affirmation but the extension of adult respect, helping people to endure a tragic earth. What’s required in the days ahead is for all of us to be a little harder on ourselves while we fight like hell for a world with less poverty, racism, injustice, sexism, and inequality. And we have to unwind a lot of bad habits of mind that have become inescapable before they hurt more people than they already have. Yeah, sometimes you have imposter syndrome. And sometimes you feel like an imposter because you actually do suck at what you’re trying to do. Sometimes she’s not a narcissist, she just doesn’t love you the way you want her to, and she never will. Sometimes you don’t have ADHD, you just hate your job. Sometimes your boss isn’t a sociopath, he’s just correctly identified you as unqualified for a leadership position. Sometimes you really do have schizophrenia, only there’s nothing glamorous or exciting or romantic about it, and now you’re fat from meds and trying to hold down a steady job and going to support group to drink grainy coffee and hear people tell the same stories over and over again. And sometimes you’re just in pain because the world didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to, and you’re trying to scratch out a life you can live with, and you get overwhelmed with your mundane unhappiness on the subway home from work, and you think to yourself that it must be true that your suffering is something grander, something that calls out for medical attention and reasonable accommodation, something more that makes it easier. But it isn’t and it doesn’t and there isn't and you're just another good, deserving human being filled with the pain of being alive. I’m sorry. I am genuinely so sorry. You wanted things, and you didn't get them, and it hurts. You wanted to be something else, and you're what you are, and it hurts. You thought life would be more than it is, and it isn't, and it hurts. Me too. All of it hurts. So let it hurt.

Prologue to an Anti-Therapeutic, Anti-Affirmation Movement

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

why valentine de saint-bris, NOT raoul de nangis, is the protagonist of giacomo meyerbeer’s les huguenots (if there even is a singular protagonist):

because she is my baby

—aside from marcel and the comte de saint-bris, who are foils for each other but that is another post entirely, she experiences the most character growth of any of the characters

—her story is the story of an anxious, extremely sheltered young woman firmly entrenched on one side of a national conflict ending up not only in the middle of the conflict in more ways than one but also WILDLY changed as a person

—everyone fighting over her “honor” and “purity” and such marks the first major shift in the plot

—it also partially motivates her father to begin acting out in increasingly violent ways against raoul specifically and the huguenots in general

—and valentine has to decide how to respond, where her priorities lie, and what relationships and social mores she can keep up without betraying herself

—so she reaches out to marcel, which kickstarts HIS character development

—oh also she is the only one of the seven principal characters to have direct connections to all the others: nevers’ fiancée (later wife and widow), raoul’s beloved (later wife and then widow again…yeah it’s a lot), saint-bris’ daughter, marguérite’s best friend and favorite lady-in-waiting, and she’s pals with both urbain and marcel, the latter of whom eventually basically adopts her. so there’s that.

—the vast majority of valentine’s stage and character time comes after the opera’s expositional phase (acts one and two). she may not have a huge role in the lead-up, but she is all over the way the cards fall.

—the act four love duet is not ultimately about raoul and valentine’s doomed romance but about the ideological conflicts between religious dogma and duty as a whole, personal faith, love, and the horrific reality of the situation and what must be done about it, which is ALSO what valentine is struggling with the whole opera! raoul doesn’t struggle it with the same way—after the initial failed attempt to assimilate into (catholic) high society, he pretty quickly retreats and gets his priorities into order. valentine has a harder time.

—the penultimate twist of the drama, and the one that sets the whole tone and way the personal drama goes in act v, scene 2, is valentine’s conversion.

—the final twist of the drama, of course, is the murder of the leading trio. but we linger on valentine’s death the longest, the senseless tragedy of a young woman unknowingly being murdered by her own father. this is the personal tragedy we ultimately focus on inside the wider, very real public and historical tragedy (tragedy being used solely in a literary sense, for in terms of the actual sense of the thing, it would better be called an atrocity on all levels).

—and as i have previously discussed, she finds freedom and fulfillment—she finds herself—in a way that no one else does. her story is about breaking free of convention and dogma in the name of a higher, more human conception of living and of love. it’s literally in her name: valentine de saint-bris, literally “the patron saint of love from the house of holy-broken”.

[chimary]

So, let's talk about the Low City. No, it's not a new in-universe short story. Even if I'd love to write it but like. I feel like real world actualities make me have to take a break. Even if the political message in it deserves to be told. It's just that, I do not wish to do it badly and -if it ever goes out of the really small sphere reading it- do NOT wish me writing it badly to do wrong by those fucking fighting for their right to be alive and to not live in an apartheid.

Yeah, the evolution of the israelo-palestinian conflict is what make me take a break from something really close to my heart. And I just want, under here, writes about differents characters or organizations and what they represent. It is important to note that this story was not supposed to give parallels to real-world events (that I knew way to few to nothing about) but pushing some of today's society worse trait to the extreme taking aspiration from the past. Anyway, here's the list:

The Low City being slums and physically separated from the other part of the land. It is supposed to be a critic about the way capitalism treat the poor and those in needs. But it's also how it sometimes is as easy as seeing a line to make other seem less than humans. All of the character are from or stay in the Low City because they are all supposed to show how individuals react differently to bad situation.

The firefighters. In the story, they are the same kind of organization than would be Doctors Without Borders. In the notes, I wrote that I should show the two groups working together. And contrary to the doctors, the firefighters were supposed to be recognized as a criminal organization. Because one of the message is to not accept laws that justify the death of someone else. Breaking law is sometimes needed to keep your right to life

The mafia. If you do not count some of the heads, most of them came to it due to the mafia being the sole hope they saw. Dragon's adopted dad came to it because they were the only ones that promised they could get a better life to his daughter. It was not show, but Dragon did not spiral down in worse and worse things only for her dad (she only accepted to work for it because of him). She saw desesperate people justifying desesperate actions and, when she thought she went too far and the government so easily make her an evil figure, she did not had the will or the strength to deny it to herself. Because when people try, again and again, to only be pushed around, aside or killed, they are way more likely to do actions they knew will make them SEEN despite how it may reflect on them.

Magma Columba and Phoenix - by being superheroes, they themselves break the laws. Magma has chronic pain, make worse if she shafeshift to much or to fast that makes her unable to perform her self-assigned duties and Marcus, that will pass anyone wellbeing and safety of others before himself. He's black and trans. Yes, the two main characters being part of discriminated groups was a voluntary decision. But contrary to a lot of those that joined the mafia, they are not desesperate yet. They have each other to turn to, to say "We'll make this world a better place for the generation to come. A better world is a road hard to walk, on which you will often fail. Where you may see blood. But they're a tunnel at the end of the road you should never be forgetting. They're a feast we can lead others too, even if we're not sure ourselves will made it there"

The mafia boss does not need to lie. The government do. They lie to the other nations to gain their sympathy will making miserable something they think belong to them and is "invaded by nuisance". (Which yeah, they're a big comparison with Israel and its warcrimes with that government) Sure, he's a bad guy. He's not promising help (and doing things that, even if criminals activities, will help) because he's genuine. He just saw a way to take powers. It's all he wants, but even him know you cannot use people if you don't give them something to hope for. That if you broke already broken people and antagonize them, their only chance will to be to attack back.

And. Yeah. I wanted the story to be light-hearted in essence. But I do not want to write about a rebellion story and have it wrong when they're a real one taking place right now. Not when their is an actual, real-life government pretending ambulances, hospital and refugee camps being terrorist hideout. I cannot write about a government lying for its international image when we have a real-world government lie about being to late to rescue hostages from terrorist and then learning they ordered their armies to kill the hostages because that was the better way to not be concerned by meat shield. I cannot write about people being considered criminal because they try to do right or are desesperate when a country randomly imprison innocent people.

It is hard to write. That story was about treating others right, not taking right away. A preventive tall about what we should not want. Not a parallel. I don't know if I'll take it back one day. Maybe. Maybe I'll never fell like the right to write it again. Maybe you fell like you could (in which case, do). Whatever happens, this story had a message and a political stance I think is needed to be told.

And even if I'm not the good writer for it - even if I will never be, I want my intention to be known. And more than all, stand for those who have nothing. Stand for those whom voices are silenced. Don't buy lie you are told because you're scared to lose you comfort. Do not support those whose beliefs make others less.

[moodboardsbysarah]

It’s so weird how like

people have forgotten that it’s the natural order for people to have partners

there’s so much “build yourself up first” “improve yourself” talk in mainstream society and whilst yeah, we have to nurture our individualism OF COURSE, we are not designed to be single forever. We are not designed to be partnerless and living alone. We are designed to pair up young and have babies young (if Hetero). Not everyone is Hetero and wants kids but even these people function better when they are in a healthy relationship with a life partner. A relationship with someone who shares your visions and improves your visions and vise versa is a worthy investment. there’s a reason why…

Every song is about love

Dating apps are the most popular apps in the world

All the movies and media are about love

Love and sex is everyone’s favorite topic of conversation

I think Christians and Islamists are retarded and frankly worshipping a demon (the Abrahamic God has all the signs of being a narcissistic demon entity part of the false white light grid… he/it has deceived us that it is benevolent and loves us so that it can feed off our fearful worship and help to lead us into the reincarnation false white light upon death). but this demon the Abrahamics worship happens to be right about one thing… the natural order demands people to be paired up, and society is better when people are paired up, providing they aren’t abusing or neglecting each other. But it’s not like we are sacrificing our well-being for society or anything. Anyone who’s been a wandering lost soul knows the importance of committment and stability in your life in order to achieve fulfillment.

it’s just so strange how the same people who are telling me to succeed (my parents) are telling me to avoid relationships, failing to see the irony since they succeeded by being in a stable and productive romantic relationship together… why don’t they want the same thing for their children? Actually, how dont they see the URGENT IMPORTANCE of the same thing for their children? Why do they expect a 23 year old woman to be focused on her career in her most fertile years? Lmfao. Not that they should pressure us to get married and have kids either but like. It’s just amazing that they could build so much by being conservative Hetero normies and then look at me like I’m weird for being the same way instead of being some corpo girlboss who pretends she doesn’t need a man…

or maybe they expect me to do both. lol. Absolutely fuck that. They need me to have a career I can explain to people at dinner parties because idk. It’s not my problem. My duty is to live out my truth no matter who it offends because I can’t be anybody else.

Frankly I do need a man. I need a good man. NEED it. Without a man I’m a lost soul in purgatory. I can get by without one as we all must sometimes. but being without a good man is like having an impairment. Most people feel the same way but are too proud and delusional to admit it. Society wouldn’t be obsessed with dating and sex (as it has been for millennia, because humans need romantic love more than anything in the world imo but are so sickened and repulsed by their own need as well) if people didn’t desperately need good relationships . As a result of denying their need, people end up in crappy situationship after situationship, shitty date after shitty date, damaging their souls with low vibrational sex with no foundational backing, leaving behind people they could have loved out of their own fear, wasting tonnes of people’s time and getting their own time wasted as they avoid and deny their most innate human desire. Because God forbid you need other people to motivate you instead of be a complete island. How dare you admit you’re human like that. How dare you not delude yourself that you are seperate from the whole.

[herunstablelogic]

Dear Baby,

Another late-night baby and another stupid letter to you; I’m watching Melissa & Joey which is very fun and making me smile a lot. I love the classic shows; all shows today are terrible and full of nonsense. I wonder what society will be like when you are going up. Will we be able to talk about things and actually understand each other? I hope so.

I am still going into the Marines, just waiting for a waiver for my childhood asthma. Caleb and I are still together, and we are doing okay, could be better though. I want to go active duty now… just for the benefits and more pay, however now I’m unsure how Caleb and I are going to work. He claims he still wants to be with me even so and would wait. We did get into a small argument about drinking and smoking… but it blew over and he was very understanding. Also- he mentioned that we could get... well- I'll just copy and paste is for you,

“well, and please tell me if im crazy, but you can go down to the justice dept and get a certificate that would technically marry us without the ceremony and all that. that would fix this problem but then wed be married. and i cant even think about how many implications that would have with our families. now we could sign a preen up so as to keep it simple in case the unfortunate happens and we split up. itd be a stretch but that probably could be plan z”

Of course I replied with,

“If I ever get married... it won't be like that. And not as a solution to something, as a start to something.”

And then he said,

“yeah, it was just an idea. i was thinking itd be more like a formality for the service and we could have a cerimony and all that stuff if/when wed actually want to get married”

To say it simply, I’m shocked at his statements, but he only said it because I mentioned that we could only live together while in active duty if married. I would love to marry him though, but not like that.

Anyways, I thought I’d get you a little updating on things. PT (Physical Training) is going alright; I just wish I was stronger. I’ll get there eventually though. I had my first Poolee function last Friday and did my first IST (Initial Strength Test). I technically passed but Sgt Stalker, my recruiter, wants me to do at least a minute faster on the 1.5 mile run. I did 15 minutes which is a pass for boot camp but of course, he wants me to do better so he knows I can pass for the actual test.

I’ve gained some “friends” I would say at PT. It’s really the only time I get social interaction now; I’m not sure if it’s good or sad. Next month’s Poolee function -on the 11th- is paintball. I have to admit I am excited for paintball. First time playing and it will be with Marines. Scared? Yes. Excited to shoot my Sgt that makes me sprint when I’m about to vomit? Yeeesss. I love you baby. Until next time.

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Words, Strings and Butterfly Wings

Kimberly_T

Summary:

The Circus storyline is changed from the beginning to well past the end, by just one small word spoken somewhere in between. And a certain Earl Phantomhive will never be quite the same again...

Chapter 8: the Very Long Night

Chapter 1: The First Effect

Chapter Text

Words, Strings and Butterfly Wings

Once upon a time in one particular version of 19th Century England, one little girl said one little word… a word that she didn’t say in another world, upon meeting a black-clad butler and his young master. It was just one small word, that stirred no more air than could be felt by the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. But as in the old saying of butterflies and hurricanes, that one word spoken at just that moment, had effects that rippled back and forth in Time and changed several lives forever.

Chapter 1: The First Effect

The Earl of Phantomhive was always the Watchdog for the reigning Queen or King of England; that was how it had been for centuries, with each head of the family doing whatever it took to keep the forces of the Underworld in check and out of Polite Society, and to investigate matters as ordered by His or Her Majesty. Those few who know of the Phantomhive line's grim duty, know that "whatever it takes" can encompass tasks that most people would never dream of doing, from the cold-blooded execution of an Underworld figure that's gone too far, to wresting needed information from those who have it by use of bribes, threats or blackmail... whatever it takes. Including, for the current Earl Phantomhive, going undercover in a circus to find the connection between the Noah's Ark Circus and dozens of children who had been kidnapped from their homes along the circus's touring route.

After passing the circus's tryouts (Ciel managing to do so only with Sebastian's covert and, so far as tightrope walking was concerned, very painful help) and being introduced to everyone as newcomers 'Black' and 'Smile', the Queen's Watchdog and his demon butler were given a tour of the backstage area by Joker, the leader of the circus troupe. The tour ended at the practice tent where all the newcomers practiced and improved their skills, or created and refined their acts. When Joker was called to the Big Top to perform, Dagger took his place a few scant minutes later, interrupting Ciel and Sebastian's low-voiced conversation about the missing children with a cheerful order of "Hey, don't stretch so sluggishly, you guys!"

Another circus member practicing in the tent called out in surprise, "Boss Dagger, what about your performance?"

"I was up first today! It went great!" Dagger told the other man with an easy grin. "I'm already done, so I'll be supervising your practice." Then he turned to 'Smile' and said, "First we gotta decide on what your act will be. What're you hoping for?"

Ciel said honestly, "An act that doesn't involve using my body for something like tightrope walking would be good... Seriously, anything besides that," and he was sure he could hear Sebastian quietly snickering in agreement.

"Yeah, you do seem a little weak for it," Dagger agreed (though Ciel could wish he hadn't agreed quite so quickly and readily.) "Well then, I'll be teaching Smile all the finer points of knife-throwing. What about you, Black?"

"I don't have any requests in particular," Sebastian said rather carelessly. Ciel gave him a warning glare, a silent reminder that he should show at least a little enthusiasm about performing, before these circus people started wondering why he’d wanted to join their troupe in the first place.

"You've got good reflexes, don't you," Dagger observed, probably remembering the way 'Black' had not only dodged but caught his blades in midair yesterday evening. "So if there's something you see and think you can handle, give it a try; I’ll be watching, so show me what you can do!"

"Yes!" was all Sebastian said before he dashed off... and then proceeded to out-perform everybody else in the practice tent! From the flying trapeze, to juggling, to pole climbing, to passing through rings of fire, to the high wire and the trampoline... Sebastian performed every single stunt like he'd been working in the circus all his life instead of less than a day, while everyone gaped at him in increasing awe and Ciel became increasingly dismayed. This was taking 'enthusiasm' way too far!

Dagger finally yelped, "Enough, enough!!" when Sebastian started to take a stab at sword-swallowing (no pun intended). For which Ciel was extremely grateful; that idiot demon probably would have stuck the entire sword down his gullet, and then gone on to another stunt without taking it out!

Sebastian obediently stopped, and let everyone else in the practice tent come up to him and express their amazement. Which gave Ciel the opportunity to sidle in behind his butler and hiss under the cover of their congratulations, "You're getting too carried away! Act a little more like a newcomer!"

Sebastian gave him a bare glance of acknowledgment, but before he could do or say anything more, Dagger said smugly, "Man, this is too much! Another super newcomer's appeared? Who can do at least twice as much as the last one!"

"See, he already has his eye on you!" Ciel hissed to Sebastian. Yes, they wanted to become first-tier members quickly so they could investigate more easily, but if Sebastian did too many unbelievable stunts, he could end up being exposed as an inhuman creature!

But it must have been that the praise he'd already garnered from everyone else around them had gone to that stupid demon's head, because now he was blatantly ignoring his master's words, instead repeating back to Dagger with a mild frown, "Another super newcomer?"

"Yeah, the first one joined us just over a month ago, He does trapeze, trampoline, and even a little high wire work, but you've still got 'im beat for juggling, pole climbing and playing wi' fire!" Dagger said as he pointed off to the right side of the tent, where the trapeze was set up. And then added, "Oi, no, over on the trapeze!" because Sebastian had turned to the left side of the tent, and was staring fixedly up at the empty high wire. Then Dagger gaily called out, "Hey, Falco, you got some real competition!"

"Oooh, he really does," giggled a girl who had been juggling earlier, as a well-muscled man in a colorful leotard responded to Dagger's call by climbing down from the trapeze and trotting over. "Black is even better-looking than Falco!" Two other girls nodded and agreed with her, but that didn't stop them from turning and smiling at the trapeze artist when he came up to the group.

Falco turned out to be a man in his mid-twenties, with a short curly mane of black hair, an olive skin tone, rugged features with a nose that appeared to have been broken once some time ago, and a definite Italian accent to his voice as he introduced himself and asked 'Black', "Which circus do you come from?"

"Which circus? You appear to be mistaken, sir, or simply misinformed," Sebastian said with a polite bow--and he glanced again at the empty high wire as he straightened up. "Up to the moment of my joining the circus, I have been merely a butler."

"A butler? A servant stuck inside in a fancy noble's house?" Falco snorted, looking offended. "Don't sell me a castle in the air. I saw your moves, and on every stunt, you are too swift and sure for a beginner! To have that assurance when so far off the ground, or when so close to fire, that only comes from much practice; for so many different acts, it must be from years of practice! Otherwise you would not be human!"

(Only the fact that they were surrounded by strangers kept Ciel from reaching out to slap Sebastian upside the head while snarling, "Told you so!")

Falco continued, "I come from the Zoppè Family Circus in Italy. I do not say why I came here to England because it is no one else's business, but I do not hide the fact that I was born to the life in tents and wagons. So now, tell the truth, ey? Which circus are you from?"

Fortunately, Ciel's butler wasn't a total idiot. Sebastian bowed to Falco again as he said, “I swear to you upon my life, that for the last three years I have been employed as a butler. However, it is true that prior to that, my circumstances were quite different. Please understand, I do not speak of that time with strangers. But if you happen to discover what my circumstances were prior to becoming a butler, I will not deny it.”

"Oh-ho!" Falco looked downright smug at Sebastian's admission and what it apparently implied, to those who wouldn't know any better. "You are talking to one who knows of many circuses, in many countries. Let me think... Christianis Family Circus?"

Sebastian shook his head. "No."

"The Cinisellis? They are big in Russia."

When Sebastian shook his head again, Dagger laughed while raising a hand to ward off Falco, "Hey, save some guesses for another day! In the meantime, Black, why don't you team up with Falco here on the flying trapeze, while I work with Smile on knife-throwing?"

"Sounds great!" Ciel chirped, putting another cursed 'cheerful smile' on his face, while grabbing for Sebastian's hand. "Just give us a couple of minutes first?" and with that he tugged Sebastian outside, before anyone else could say anything.

Once they were outside, Ciel turned to Sebastian and hissed, "What's going on inside your head? Why do you keep looking up at that high wire when no one's on it?"

Sebastian frowned, while looking over his shoulder back at the tent. "It's most disturbing, master; I had the definite impression that there should have been someone there."

Ciel knew very well that it took a lot for a demon to feel disturbed. "Someone like who?" he wanted to know.

"I..." Sebastian had to shake his head. "I regret to say I do not know, young master. All I can say is that whoever should be up there... is not someone whose presence I would welcome. My impression was accompanied by a definite dislike."

Ciel folded his arms and scowled at him. "Well, that doesn't narrow the field down much at all; you're none too fond of most of humanity in general." Then his grumpy scowl turned into a more thoughtful frown. "But then... you got so distracted just as you were being introduced to Falco. And Falco tossed out that suggestion that you might be inhuman pretty quickly. I don't know what it would take to deliberately distract a demon and thereby misdirect him, but the most likely suspect would be another inhuman creature." Sebastian started to brighten as if he'd remembered something, when Ciel asked him, "Is Falco himself completely human? Go take a look at him with all your supernatural senses, and tell me if he's got a secret of his own."

Sebastian obediently turned and lifted the tent flap to look inside, at where Falco was still standing with Dagger, waiting for them to come back in. Falco gave them a welcoming gesture, while Dagger's was clearly more impatient; Sebastian nodded to them both, but held up a finger as if to say 'one moment more' and dropped the tent flap again. When he turned back to Ciel, the demon looked downright frustrated. "He is completely human, Master. As is Dagger."

"Hrmm." Ciel frowned in thought for a moment longer and then shrugged. "Well, if whoever you thought you would see is someone you didn't want to see anyway, then at the moment all we can do is be glad we're not dealing with them; I can already tell that this case is going to be complicated enough. You say the missing children we're seeking definitely aren't anywhere on the circus grounds, but the Queen wouldn't have sent me those tickets if she hadn't been made sure by her own sources that this circus has something to do with their kidnappings, so at the moment we can't rule any of the members out..."

They went back inside the practice tent, whereupon Ciel was pounced on and dragged off by Dagger to practice knife-throwing, while Sebastian climbed up into the trapeze rigging with Falco and they discussed what sort of routine they could make together. (And Sebastian told Falco that no, he wasn't from Barnum and Bailey's circus in America, either.)

To be continued...

Chapter 2: Date Night

Chapter Text

After being introduced to and paired up with Falco the trapeze artist, Sebastian spent the next few hours learning to work in rhythm with him to perform the various high-flying stunts that required two people, while he pondered on just who he had been expecting to see on the high wire earlier. It was really quite frustrating; he still had the definite feeling he should know that person or creature, from the moment of sheer dislike he had felt.

His little master had been incorrect earlier, when he'd said that Sebastian disliked most of humanity in general. The demon had little regard for most humans, true, but mild contempt was not the same as actually detesting; that was reserved for individuals whom Sebastian found particularly offensive. Such as Lord Randall of Scotland Yard, who blatantly failed to appreciate all that Earl Phantomhive and his butler had done in service to the Queen, and Baldroy their manor's singularly poor excuse for a cook, who wrecked the kitchen on an appallingly regular basis. (And for no reason of a physical issue, such as Finnian's excessive strength or Mey-rin's difficulty in seeing objects up close; Baldroy simply would not learn to be patient and painstaking in meal preparation. Really, if there had been another man handy who fit all of the necessary qualifications for an explosives expert in the Phantomhive employ--no family who would enquire after him when he died, quite readily lethal but not truly bloodthirsty, and smart enough to competently defend the estate but not the curious sort or smart enough to determine Sebastian's true nature--the demon would have long since ground Baldroy into a bloody paste for fertilizing the roses.)

Trying to think of just who was missing from the picture was frustrating... and rather distracting. Why, there was a moment in the middle of one stunt that Sebastian came out of his double somersault, almost a fraction of a second too late to catch the bar! Fortunately he recovered in time, made the catch and swung to land easily on the waiting platform. Then he turned to see Falco on the opposite platform, who grinned while giving him that fingers-pressed-together gesture the demon had learned the meaning of a few contracts ago, and calling out "Perfetto!"

So the human hadn't noticed his slip; that would have been quite embarrassing if he had. Nevertheless, Sebastian resolved to put the issues of the kidnapped children and his missing antagonist out of his mind for now, to concentrate on performing in tandem with Falco. The human performed the same stunt a few moments later, and when he landed on the platform next to 'Black', he asked with a smile, "Cirque Fernando in Montmartre?"

"No," Black replied with a shake of his head and a brief smile that did not show his gritted teeth. That was the sixteenth time... Falco was actually rather pleasant company for a human, seeming to not possess any real jealousy over his being so skilled at not just trapeze artistry but several different circus acts, but the man's habit of trying to guess which circus 'Black' used to work at was already becoming more annoying than amusing.

Ten minutes later, Sebastian performed another somersaulting stunt, this time with Falco swinging out as prearranged to catch him. But when the catch was complete and Sebastian was ready to be released onto the waiting platform, he encountered an unexpected problem: rather than release the double grip on his arms, Falco was hanging on tightly while staring upside-down at him in utter astonishment and swearing in incredulous Italian. Then the human switched to English, to say, "Three! Three full turns! I counted, I know I saw it; three full turns! The triple somersault! No one has ever done that before!"

Oops. He had been warned about this; the young master would not be pleased with him now...

(quick author's note: trapeze acts have been around since they were invented by Jules Leotard in 1859, but the triple somersault, though often tried, was never successfully performed until 1909.)

Falco was still staring down at him open-mouthed as he exclaimed, "Forget other circuses; are you an angel straight from Heaven?!"

Sebastian barely managed to suppress his wince as he replied, "No." Not directly from Heaven, anyway... "Would you mind not drooling down on me, please? And I really would like to get to a platform now..."

"Eh? Ah, sorry!" as Falco blushed, and then together they swung back and forth in midair until they regained the momentum needed to swing him to a platform. Falco flipped to land next to him a few moments later, still talking excitedly. "The triple! Hah, this will make the Noah's Ark Circus famous even in other countries! They will put you on the posters, you will see!"

Oh dear, the young master would not be happy with him at all. Perhaps he should arrange for Falco to have a fatal accident immediately, before he could start babbling about 'Black's amazing feat to the rest of the circus? ...No, too late, other performers who had been watching him work were already talking excitedly to each other, and his sharp ears caught the word 'triple' on more than one set of lips. Think, Sebastian, think... ah. "I hope they wait to do so, until I can perform it on a regular basis. It would be extremely embarrassing if they announced that as part of my act, but I failed in front of an audience. That was actually the very first time I have ever successfully performed it. Perhaps I should have warned you that I was going to attempt it, but..."

"Your first success? Ha, then I have witnessed history in the making! And yes, you should have warned me; I nearly missed catching you, I was so surprised! But is okay, I understand, to fail is always worse when others are expecting. This deserves a celebration! The first triple somersault! ...And done just in time," as Falco pointed over his shoulder towards the tent entrance. "Joker has come in, he is waving for everyone to come down; practice is over for today. You must tell him of your success! The triple somersault!"

Indeed, Joker would be informed, but first Sebastian would do a bit of damage mitigation. He descended from the trapeze with Falco following swiftly after, but rather than head straight to Joker, he went over to where his young master was seated and slumped over on a packing crate, looking quite exhausted. Oh dear, training with Dagger must have been more strenuous than he had anticipated...

He put on an expression of suitable excitement as he crouched next to the crate to put his head on a level with the young master's, and said, "Smile, I have great news! It took some effort, but I was finally able to perform the triple somersault!"

"...guuhh?" as the young master lifted his head just enough to blearily blink at him, but then shook off enough of his exhaustion to respond to the clear verbal cue with a weakly enthusiastic, "That's wonderful!"

"Yes, isn't it? Of course it shall have to be practiced a great deal more, before the circus will have confidence that I can perform it successfully in front of an audience. But once I begin performing it before audiences on a regular basis, first-tier membership is all but assured!" There; that should make it seem like Sebastian had done it as part of following his master's suggestion, that the easiest way to investigate the first-tier members would be to become first-tier members themselves.

"The triple somersault? Ye've done it? That's right amazing; even Peter and Wendy can't do more than double somersaults!" Joker said with a grin as he came over, and rested his skeletal hand on Sebastian's shoulder in congratulations and approval. "Practice that as often as ye can, Black! But no more practice for tonight; it's time for dinner and getting to bed. Which ye look like ye're in sore need of, Smile! C'mon, don't be so down; smile, Smile!" he added jokingly as he patted the young master on a shoulder as well, before as he went back to stand in front of the entire group.

Joker brandished a sheet of paper as he announced, "And here's what some of ye have been waiting for; time to announce room assignments for the rookies! These are the results of a completely impartial lottery; can't be fairer than that!" Glancing at the list, he announced, "Smile will be in Tent Eight." And then he reached to the side to gently tug on the arm of a youth who'd entered the tent right after him. "And here's your roommate, Smile; meet Freckles."

That got the young master to lift his head enough to stare at the other teenager, trying to smile politely but not succeeding. Sebastian was fairly sure of what his contractor was thinking just then; having a stranger in the tent with them would make their investigating more difficult.

"And Black's in Tent Nine. Black's roommate will be Falco."

...And that would make it even more difficult. There was no doubt his young master thought so too; he shot to his feet and began protesting that he and Black should room together, as they were used to doing so. But Joker and Dagger both waved his protests away with chuckled assurances that he was getting to be a big boy now and should be more independent, and that both Black and Smile should make new friends now that they were here.

Well, this would be bothersome. But Sebastian kept a friendly smile on his face as Falco gave a cheerful shrug and greeted him as a roommate, and then showed him which tent was Tent Nine.

Once they were inside, Falco produced a coin from a pocket and asked, "Flip to see who gets top bunk?"

"If you prefer the top bunk, you are welcome to it," Sebastian assured him. "In truth, I should probably have the bottom bunk, as I rarely sleep through the night. I must sometimes get up to, ah, tend to bodily needs; you understand." Which was true enough, even if the body in question was actually his master's when he needed the comfort of warm milk after nightmares. And it gave him an alibi for slipping away in the middle of the night to seek out his young master.

"I understand; I have a brother who does the same," Falco said with a nod as they set out or put away their few personal items--Sebastian had only his spare uniforms and the nightclothes he seldom wore, but Falco had a few framed photographs, a statuette of the Virgin Mary and a little clay figure that looked like a child's rendition of a goat--and got ready for bed. Falco leaped into the top bunk, and was asleep within minutes. Sebastian lay in the bottom bunk and feigned sleep for an hour and a half, until nearly all of the noises from the other tents and passersby had diminished to silence. Then he silently left the bed, checked to make sure Falco was sound asleep, redressed in his uniform and slipped outside.

His first stop was in Tent Eight, to check on his master. 'Smile' was in the bottom bunk, and already sound asleep; Sebastian thought to wake him and ask for instructions, but looked at how peacefully he was sleeping--and recalled how exhausted he had been by the day's training--and finally decided against it. He was reasonably sure of what the master would order him to do already; to sneak into the first-tier members’ area if he could do so without being seen, and look for anything that might be a clue to the kidnapped children.

Detective work was really his young master's passion instead of his, but Sebastian had read all the mystery stories that the boy favored in an effort to better understand his contractor, so he had some idea of how detecting was supposed to work. First step was to survey the scene, and look for something that seemed out of place or inappropriate. There might be a few nocturnal snakes still out and about, but those wouldn't be a problem for him. He set out for the first-tier member tents, deciding that the first one to start with would be the tent belonging to Joker--

But was distracted as, while slipping past a heavily curtained circus wagon, he heard a rumbling growl coming from within. A true smile slowly spread across his face, as he turned to lift up a corner of one curtain to peek within.

Betty the tiger eyed him, her eyes gleaming in the dim light coming in through the curtain, and growled again; this time a bit louder, with a snarl working its way in at the end. Sebastian cooed to her, "Hello to you too, my proud striped beauty. Isn't it a lovely night? ...Be patient but a few moments, and I will be right back with a gift for you," just before he let the curtain drop, and then dashed off the circus grounds. A grand lady such as her deserved a courting gift, something far better than the bits of dried beef that he usually kept in his pockets for meeting much smaller beauties...

Ten minutes later he was back and lifting the curtain again to show Betty the gift he'd brought her; the carcasses of three freshly-killed stray dogs, tied together at their tails with a big red bow. Betty growled eagerly at the sight and the scent of still-warm blood, and stretched a paw through the bars to snag and pull the first carcass towards her.

Sebastian let the curtain drop behind him as he pushed the smallest carcass in through the bars and into her paws, and then unlocked the cage to climb in with the other two carcasses in hand as he whispered, "How very thoughtful of them to provide you with these curtains; they hold in the heat quite well, and will also give us some measure of privacy, my grand beauty. Such a lethal and gorgeous creature..."

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Two hours before dawn, Sebastian bid Betty au revoir and climbed back out of her cage, remembering to lock it behind him. His butler uniform was a complete loss, shredded in some places and bloodstained in others, but he had packed a spare... and it had been so very worth it. Ohhh, what a night...

"Why yes, Master, I did manage to sneak out and investigate one first-tier member's residence," he muttered to himself as he made his way back to Tent Nine. "However, I didn't find anything there that would help us in our investigation. But I'd be happy to go back and look again if you'd like..."

To be continued

Chapter 3: Assumptions, Equivocations, and Outright Lies

Chapter Text

It was official: Ciel Phantomhive was not having a good morning. In point of fact, this was quite possibly the worst morning he’d had in the last three years, since Sebastian had pulled him out of that thrice-damned cage.

He’d been woken up by Freckles at far too early an hour, and had to dress himself in a terrible hurry instead of having his butler do it for him, resulting in his shirt buttons being mismatched and his boot laces being only half-tied; he had seen disgusting drunkards in Whitechapel who presented a better figure than he did right now! After mocking his appearance, Sebastian had at least tried to fix the knot in his eyepatch strings—but then Freckles and all the other circus performers had mocked him even more, taunting that he needed Sebastian to be his mum.

Then he’d botched the task they’d given him of peeling the potatoes; fortunately Sebastian had come up with a menu that could use them, but Ciel still burned with embarrassment at Freckles’ reaction on seeing the potatoes done so badly. And then once they’d been cooked, Ciel had been very nearly knocked off his feet and trampled by everyone else rushing to get the food, and had only managed to get for himself one plain roll! If not for Freckles’ unexpected generosity in sharing food with him, he’d likely be feeling faint with hunger by now.

Thanks to the meat pies that Freckles had put on his plate, Ciel wasn’t feeling hungry at the moment… but that might also be because he was far too sore to feel hungry. After his performance in the practice tent yesterday, doing considerably worse at throwing knives than he’d done just hours earlier at the tryouts (He’d claimed he’d strained a muscle during the tryouts, from trying too hard to impress them, but he wasn’t sure Dagger had entirely believed him), he’d been told to give his arm a rest and try tightrope walking again, and other balancing stunts. Somehow Freckles had ended up being his mentor in the balancing stunts; the other boy kept urging him up onto a low-strung rope, or on top of a very large ball… and Ciel kept falling off just moments after he got up there.

“Hey! What happened to your sense of balance from the tryouts?” Freckles exclaimed in dismay while Ciel groaned while sitting up and rubbing his head, after falling off for the fifth time. “These are the basics! The very basics!”

Yes, the very basics of torture! Ciel thought but didn't say aloud. He'd read once about a medieval torture device called the iron maiden; a prisoner was locked inside a device that resembled an upright sarcophagus, but with long and very sharp spikes pointing inwards. Unless the prisoner stood extremely straight and still--if they leaned or wavered for any reason--they were skewered on the spikes. Ciel was now convinced that the bastard who'd come up with that fiendish device had done so after falling off one of these practice tightropes, onto a sharp tack.

"Did you see that?!" "A triple! He did it again!" "Black did another triple somersault!" Freckles paused in his berating as he and Ciel both looked up at the trapeze, where Sebastian was just now landing on a platform after performing the stunt. His trapeze partner and catcher Falco, while still hanging by his knees on a trapeze bar, grinned and led the applause for "Black" after having accomplished such an incredibly difficult feat.

Sebastian graciously accepted the applause with a bow before leaping out to do another stunt, while Ciel looked up at him with narrowed eyes. Well of course Sebastian was having such an easy time on the trapeze, demons could fly in their natural forms, he was probably as happy as a bird in its nest up there... And Ciel had a very hard time hiding his resentment when Freckles turned back to him and said sternly, "Hey, you gotta get back on track quick; you don't want your friend Black leaving you behind!"

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While practicing with Falco on the trapeze, Sebastian frequently glanced over to see how his young master was doing at balancing practice... which was quite poorly indeed. He was quite sincerely glad that he was several dozen feet away while witnessing how often Ciel fell off the rope or the balancing ball and went sprawling, because if he'd been any closer, Ciel would have noticed him watching and been even more embarrassed and humiliated than he clearly already was, and then he undoubtedly would have ordered his demon butler to do something painful in response. And Sebastian had no desire to spend a full day hanging by the neck in the meat-smoking shed again, thank you very much... Not that the circus actually had a meat-smoking shed, but he had no doubt that the young master would improvise; Ciel could get quite creative with his punishments.

At roughly the third hour of their practice, Falco declared it was time for another water break, and they descended from the trapeze rigging so the Italian expatriate could guzzle a tall glass of water and then dunk his whole head in a bucket to cool off. Sebastian did nothing so uncouth as to dunk his head, but he did drink a glass of water as well to fit in, and he did wet his handkerchief and pat at his face and neck with it, pretending to wipe off sweat.

After they'd cooled down a bit Falco and Sebastian went back up to the trapeze rigging, but before they began practicing anew, Falco said he wanted to talk about something. After looking around to make sure that the other practicing trapeze artists and the high wire walkers weren't within hearing range, Falco gestured Sebastian closer and asked quietly, “The boy, Smile… he is your son, yes?”

Sebastian gave him a startled look, but said nothing.

Falco continued, “I have seen how you are with him, and I have heard what others said they saw, ever since you arrive. You look out for him, make sure he is safe, and fix his mistakes for him even when he is being sullen brat, like all boys his age. Even when he is in care of others, good people who know their craft well, you look that way every few minutes, just as a father does to make sure all is good with his little boy for first time away. You are more than just former servants together, yes?”

After a pause, Sebastian nodded. “Much more than that. You are indeed observant, Falco.”

Falco grinned with satisfaction at having apparently guessed one of his tent mate’s secrets, before asking, “So why do you hide the fact that he is your son? Is not a thing to be ashamed of here, Black. Many fine families are raised in circus; best way to have good performers is to raise them from children!”

Sebastian said slowly, “You must understand… I was not married to the boy’s mother.”

Falco eyed him speculatively. “But she was married, yes? To someone else, who did not love her as you loved her?”

“She was indeed married to another,” Sebastian said with another nod, before giving him a speculative look. “Do you, perhaps, have some hard-earned knowledge of this sort of situation?”

Falco gave a sad and somewhat bitter laugh. “Is why I am here now! Here, instead of in beautiful country of Italy; beautiful, and so much warmer too,” as he gripped himself with his arms and gave an expressive shudder. “But unlike you, I left no son behind me…” His voice trailed off as he looked thoughtful. “I think. Maybe someday I go back again, just one more time, to be sure.”

“Anyway!” as Falco clapped his hands decisively. “Now we make deal, you and I. We talk to first-tier members, and I tell them why they should let me work with poor boy who is struggling so over there, and help him find a good way to perform. I know of many ways to entertain crowds that this circus does not do yet; together we find a way for your boy to shine!”

Sebastian eyed him impassively. “And in return?”

“And in return, you,” as Falco pointed right at Sebastian, “teach me how to do that triple somersault! You have proven it can be done; now show me how and I will conquer that move, or burst my heart trying!”

Sebastian rubbed his chin in thought. “It sounds like a fine deal indeed… but let me talk to the boy first, before I agree. You understand, sometimes it is quite embarrassing for a secret to be told, even if those around will think no less of him for it.”

“Of course, of course,” Falco said generously.

So they climbed down from the rigging and approached the beginners' balancing area, just as Freckles wiped a hand across her forehead and said, "I'm all sweaty! Let's go take a shower, Smile!"

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Aching in every bone and muscle in his body and so exhausted he could barely stand, Ciel nonetheless perked up when Freckles declared, "I'm all sweaty! Let's go take a shower, Smile!"

The circus had a shower? He could get clean again? Right now that sounded even better than tea and scones in his own home! Ciel was about to ask Freckles to lead the way when Sebastian came up to them with Falco following behind, and asked with a polite smile, "Pardon me, but before you go anywhere, may I speak with Smile for a few minutes?"

Ciel was sorely tempted to tell Sebastian that whatever it was could wait a few minutes, until after he'd had a shower and gotten into clean clothes again, but Sebastian had that certain gleam in his eye that meant he was about to have some fun... and a demon's idea of fun was generally something that Her Majesty would not approve of. Best to find out what he had in mind and nip it in the bud, Ciel thought to himself as he excused himself from Freckles' offer, and followed Black and Falco over to the tent entrance. But instead of following them outside, Falco stayed inside the entrance while they went out, with a few words to the effect that he would give them privacy for talking.

Once they were alone outside, his butler began, "I have been presented with a solution that may make your life easier; at the very least, you will no longer have to walk on tightropes and balancing balls—or more accurately, repeatedly fall off them,” Sebastian corrected himself as his perpetual smirk widened a fraction.

“Whatever it is, I’ll take it,” Ciel said with a groan as he rubbed at the latest bruise… and then caught himself with a scowl. “Hold on, forget I said that. I know that smile, demon; what’s the catch?”

“Oh, it’s just a trifling matter, my lord,” Sebastian said airily. “You simply have to let the other circus performers acknowledge you as my bastard.”

“As your WHAT!?!”

Ciel’s screech of outrage could be heard far and wide, and several people poked their heads out of their tents to see what was the matter. But by that time Sebastian had already grabbed Ciel, covered his mouth and whisked him away at lightning speed to a more secluded spot. “You said something earlier about not drawing too much attention to ourselves, young master?”

“Let go of me!” Ciel demanded angrily, jerking away from his grip. “And how dare you even imply—damn you, I’m not anyone’s bastard! My parents were married! And happy with each other!”

Sebastian held up his hands in a placating manner. “I swear to you, young master, I told no lies about your parentage… but my tent mate has noticed that I’m quite protective of you, and concocted his own theory to explain why. And he wants to make a bargain with me; he proposes that he work with you directly to develop a method of performing that is physically less taxing for you, and in return I show him how to perform the triple somersault. It is an acrobatic maneuver that is currently beyond him, but I believe it is within the realm of a well-trained human's ability.”

Ciel scowled, and said nothing for several seconds while pacing angrily… but finally growled, “All right, we’ll let people believe that; it’s not like this is my real identity, anyway. At least it’ll keep me off those damned tightropes and balancing balls.”

After discussing a few ideas for responses to the inevitable questions, they went back to the practice tent to find that Freckles had left, but Falco was still there and looking at them expectantly. Sebastian gave the acrobat a solemn nod, and he came over to them with a wide smile. “Good! Now we go talk to Joker and his first-tier members together.” They walked as a group towards the tent entrance, Sebastian to Ciel’s right and Falco to his left, and the acrobat reached over to give Ciel’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze (and Ciel forced himself to not flinch away from it.) “Have no fear, boy; no one here will look down on you for your parentage. Circus people, we understand Life far better than those silly nobles hiding in their fancy houses.”

“Thank you,” Ciel said with a smile through gritted teeth.

Ten minutes later, they were standing in front of Joker, Dagger, Peter and Wendy; the four first-tier members had been quietly conferring with each other over some piece of paper that Joker had pocketed as they’d approached. The pair stood side by side, not quite touching but obviously closer than people normally stood together, as their self-appointed spokesman Falco explained that Black and Smile weren’t just former servants together, they were family, and therefore a little extra consideration was needed.

Joker was frowning at Sebastian as he said, “So why didn’t you tell us this at the audition?”

Sebastian answered without hesitation, “In the high society that I have served in for the last few years, servants can be and have been dismissed for marrying without their master’s permission, or having children whether in or out of wedlock.”

Ciel decided it was time for him to chime in; Sebastian was highly skilled at prevaricating and misleading people, but their contract kept him from stating any outright lies. Whereas Ciel had become over the last few years a master at telling blatant lies, aided by his ability to fake a better 'perfectly innocent' look than any demon could ever manage.

He gave the performers his most earnest expression as he said, “We only found each other a few years ago, after Mum sent him a letter when she found out she was dying. Da got me a job at his household so we could be together under one roof, but we couldn’t acknowledge each other as father and son there; we didn’t dare risk Da getting fired for it. And when he came home two nights ago with news that he’d found a new place for us both, we agreed to keep quiet about the truth here too, until we were sure it was safe to be honest at last.”

Peter looked them over skeptically, rubbing his diminutive chin. “Are you two sure you’re really father and son? I’m not seeing much of a resemblance here, ‘cepting that you’re both prettier than any man or boy ought to be.”

“The boy takes after his mother in many ways,” Sebastian said promptly. “Nevertheless, I am quite certain of our relationship,” as he laid a proprietary arm across Ciel’s shoulders.

Falco folded his arms and frowned down at Peter as he said very seriously, “I think perhaps you do not realize the greatness of the insult you have just given Black. To doubt he has fathered the child in front of him? Back where I come from, you would be losing teeth for that. You are lucky that Black is clearly good man at heart, and you are too small for a man to beat without looking like a bully.”

Peter instantly bounced up to the top of a nearby table, and snarled as soon as he was at Falco’s eye level, “Any time you want a fight, I’m ready; I can take you before you’ll even have time to scream!”

“Enough, Peter,” Joker said almost wearily, with an air that suggested he’d had to do this many times before. “Falco was just pointing out how you’d insulted our newest member, and I can see how it could be taken as an insult. But no insult was intended, so there’ll be no fighting, right?”

Peter muttered under his breath but stepped back from the table’s edge, though he didn’t hop down to the floor again; instead, Wendy vaulted up to join him. Once she was at the same level, she looked Sebastian and Ciel over with a pretty little frown as she said, “So why did you want to leave a nobleman’s house and join the circus, if you didn’t know until now that it would be all right here to let people know that you’re father and son?”

Now Dagger spoke up with a wry grin. “Oh, Black explained that to us when Joker scouted him. It seems their old master is--”

Wendy held up a finger, and Dagger instantly shushed. “I want to hear it from them.” Her doll-like features were pretty and innocent, but the look in her eyes was definitely not. Ciel abruptly had the impression that while Peter talked a big fight, Wendy was the silently lethal type.

Sebastian kept the smile from his face, but Ciel could just hear the demon laughing gleefully inside, at the chance to insult his master right in front of him and get clean away with it. “The master of our household is very spoiled, and sometimes shockingly ill-behaved--”

“And his friends are worse,” Ciel said in a tiny, broken voice as he scurried even closer to Sebastian’s side and clung to his trouser leg like a boy half his age. “We had to get away from there… I couldn’t…” and he buried his face in Sebastian’s coat.

He’d done some fast and furious thinking while they were walking with Falco, about what he would do and say if they asked why they would actually want to leave a nobleman’s household together, when so far ‘Smile’ had shown himself to be so obviously, painfully unsuited for circus life. Sebastian likely hadn't even thought about it, but a truly caring father would be willing to put up with even a bad employer, so long as his child was comfortable and safe under that roof.

Ciel had come up with the perfect cover story while they were walking, and though they hadn’t had the opportunity to talk privately with each other again, Ciel knew he could count on Sebastian to catch his intent and act appropriately. Sure enough, the demon butler reached down to hold him even closer to his side, just like a father coddling his frightened child as he said, “You are safe here, boy; I will protect you, you know that.”

Close, but not quite enough; time to pull out all the stops. Ciel peeked out after a second to find all the circus performers staring at him in surprise and alarm, and he said in his most pathetic whisper, “There was a party… so many people, they were keeping Da too busy, Cook sent me up to help… I was serving some sweets when this—this viscount, he came up to me and… he took me to another room, and…”

Then he closed his eyes, and just for a second, he let himself remember that month in the cage… and what they did to him in those times when they took him out of the cage. All of it.

It wasn’t something he had ever practiced in front of a mirror, but Ciel had some idea of what letting himself remember did to his face and expression. Joker swore under his breath, Dagger swore out loud, and Falco unleashed a stream of profanities that were no less potent for being in Italian. While Sebastian dropped to one knee, grasped him by the shoulders and said urgently, “Look at me, my boy. Look at me!” Ciel obediently opened his eye and looked Sebastian square in the face as the demon said forcefully, “That is in the past. You are here and now, and you are safe here and now. That will never happen again.”

And even though he’d done that deliberately as part of a ploy for acceptance, Ciel took far more comfort than he would ever admit to from Sebastian’s touch and words. Even deliberate remembering was awful, but he quieted his roiling innards with the knowledge that none of that would ever, ever happen to him again; Sebastian would rip apart the first man that tried. He threw his arms around the demon that would eat his soul one day, and felt safe in his embrace.

Their publicly private moment was interrupted by Falco exclaiming “That will never, ever happen again!” as he fell to his knees beside Sebastian, to look Ciel in the eye. “In the circus, we protect our own! We keep an eye out for each other when the pervertito and pedofilo come by, and we keep the little ones far from them and safe. If that man or someone like him comes looking for you, you call for Falco or your father, and we make sure he never sees daylight again!”

“Yes. But now you understand,” as Sebastian turned to the first-tier performers while still hugging Ciel close, as if warning the onlookers to not even try to separate them. “We must stay together. I must keep him safe… even if he is in truth not suitable for performing.”

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that,” Dagger said, rubbing his chin while giving Ciel an arched eyebrow. “I can believe that you overstrained your arm doing the knife-throwing at the tryouts, so that's why you did so much worse later on, but what happened to that fine balancing skill you showed us on the tightrope too? Every time I looked over to where you were working with Freckles, you were falling off a lot more often than staying on.”

This was the question they’d actually crafted an answer for before agreeing to Falco’s deal, though it depended on the circus performers believing the same rubbish that some of the more gullible members of high society did. Ciel rubbed at his head in seeming embarrassment as he said, “At the tryouts… we cheated, sort of. Da gave me the eyes, both times, and when he does that I can do almost anything.”

“Gave you the eyes?” Joker repeated as he and the others frowned while looking up at Sebastian’s eyes, which the butler modestly lowered in response.

“Did you notice that I took a few moments to whisper to him before each performance, and did you also notice that we kept our eyes locked on each other the entire time?” Sebastian asked, and before the performers could actually remember whether they’d seen any of that or not, he continued, “Perhaps you are familiar with the work of the Scottish scientist James Braid, and his work in neurohypnology; his experiments determined that, when properly and completely hypnotized, people are capable of doing things they would otherwise never consider.”

“But it only works so long as he's looking me right in the eyes; when he does, then… I just know I can do it, sure as I know I’m alive, and somehow I can,” Ciel said, again giving them his very best earnest expression once more. “But as soon as he stops, when I try to do it on my own…” he gave a helpless shrug, looking suitably dejected, and hoped fervently that they accepted the story without demanding further proof, like having ‘Black’ hypnotize him into an instant trapeze artist. But since Sebastian had already demonstrated amazing physical skills for them all, it should make them more ready to believe he had an amazing mental skill as well…

And sure enough, they bought it by the bagful. “So you hypnotized your son, and he was suddenly able to balance on a tightrope and throw daggers like a champ?” Joker said, rubbing his chin in thought. “That would make for an amazing circus act, if you can do it with members of the audience.”

But Sebastian slowly and firmly shook his head, and Ciel said urgently, “Please don’t make him do it in public; the preachers call it the devil’s work!” Which was both true of the more ignorant men of the cloth, and wickedly ironic in Sebastian’s case. He embellished while gripping his servant even tighter in seeming fear, “Da was nearly killed for it once! Mum made him swear before she died that he'd never do it again! He only did it this time because I begged him to; because we were so desperate to find a new home, somewhere the master would never think to look for us!”

“And they have found that new home here, yes?” Falco said, giving Joker and the others a challenging look. “They will not be cast out now that they are honest with you. Black is great enough performer for both of them! But I say to you, let me work with Smile and I will find what he can do, a way he can perform in circus that will please the audience.”

Joker frowned but nodded, “All right; we’ll give you a couple of weeks to work with him. And if nothing else, he can stay as a general assistant, working in the cook’s tent for meals and the props tent the rest of the time; maybe become a regular stage hand once he grows up and gets some muscle on him. Dagger, bring Freckles in here for the news, will you?”

Dagger nodded and stepped out of the tent, but then stepped back just two seconds later with a shrug. “Freckles was already heading this way; be here in a few moments.”

Less than a minute later, Freckles came in through the tent flap, wearing fresh clothes and dampened hair while saying, “Have you guys seen Smile anywhere? He needs to—oh, you’re here!” as he looked at Ciel in surprise.

“Come on in; we’ve got news for you,” Joker said with a beckoning gesture. “It turns out that Black and Smile are actually father and son!”

“Wot, really?” as Freckles looked them both over in even more surprise.

“Yes, really. And Falco here wants to work with Smile, to find a better way for him to perform than on the tightrope, so we’ll let them work together for the next couple of weeks.”

“And please, now that you know the truth, can my Da and I have a tent together after all?” Ceil asked, while scuffing his feet in seeming embarrassment. “I know, I’m a big boy now and all that, but… we’re family. And it’s the closest we may ever come to having a home all our own…”

Falco immediately volunteered, “I do not mind to share a tent with Freckles instead of Black; is all the same to me.”

Joker and Dagger both frowned for some reason, but Joker finally said, “All right; Smile and Falco can swap tents.”

Freckles looked downright crestfallen at the news, and Ciel privately wondered why; was it because the boy thought he would lose the coveted top bunk?

Falco must have noticed Freckles’ downcast expression too, because the acrobat said to him reassuringly, “Even if he is in different tent and with different teacher now, is no reason for you and Smile to not be good friends! Boys should have friends close to their own age. Now come, Smile, we change tents quickly, and then meet in practice tent again to begin working on new act,” as he took Ciel by the shoulder and gently but firmly steered him towards the tent flap.

Ciel let himself be steered outside and towards the newcomers’ tents, knowing without looking that Sebastian was following just a few paces behind them. Once they were out of earshot of the other performers, Falco said to him with a rather sly-looking smile, “You become good friends with Freckles, okay? Spend time together, play games; trust me, is very good idea.”

Ciel frowned at Falco as he asked, “Why? What’s so special about Freckles?”

“Ah, you find out soon enough, I think. You and Black are little family, but every circus is like a big family, and sooner or later everyone knows each other’s secrets. For now, just trust your Zio Falco,” as the acrobat gave him a wink, “and become friends with Freckles.” And with that, Falco gave his shoulder a parting squeeze before splitting off to gather his things from the tent he shared with Sebastian.

It took only a few minutes for Ciel and Falco to gather their belongings and swap tents; when Ciel left Tent 8, Falco had just finished agreeing with Freckles that the younger boy could have the top bunk. And once his few belongings were settled in Tent 9, Ciel let Sebastian give him a sponge bath from a bucket of hot water that he'd produced from somewhere. "My apologies for not making this a proper bath for you, young master, but there simply isn't room in this small dwelling for a full bathtub," Sebastian said as he rubbed the sponge down Ciel's back. "But at least you're spared having to clean up the way the other circus performers do, with cold water and outdoors."

"That's what Freckles meant by a shower?" Ciel said with an expressive shudder of dismay. If that was all they really had for cleaning themselves here, then he was profoundly glad that Sebastian had interrupted them before he could follow the boy to get cleaned up.

"Speaking of Freckles... what secret does he have, anyway?" he wondered aloud. "Do you suppose that whatever Falco knows about him that we don't yet, will be important to our case?" as he turned to face his butler.

He had the definite impression that Sebastian had wiped a smirk off his face just as Ciel turned to face him, but all the demonic servant said was, "I really could not say for sure, my lord. But I noted during our conversation that the first-tier members seemed protective of Freckles; evidently the young performer is a favorite of theirs. Perhaps Freckles could be our ‘in’ to associating more closely with first-tier members, and learning their secrets. In which case, young master, it might behoove you to consider Falco’s advice, and work on becoming good friends."

"Hmph. Well, it shouldn't be any real trouble to fake that, so long as he doesn't try to put me on a balancing ball again," Ciel mused as he got dressed again in clean clothes, and prepared for his first session with Falco.

Sebastian walked with him to the practice tent and up to where Falco was waiting, before announcing, "Rather than work solo on the trapeze, I shall practice my juggling while you and Falco work together. Listen well to your new mentor, my boy," as he reached over and familiarly ruffled Ciel's hair--a gesture Ciel hated with a passion, and they both knew it.

"I'll do my best, Da," Ciel said as he smiled through gritted teeth. Sebastian seemed to be enjoying his new 'fatherly' role just a little too much! He'd have to have strong words with his servant, when they were alone in their tent again later...

To be continued

Chapter 4: The Second Effect

Chapter Text

For his first session with his new mentor at the circus, Falco the trapeze artist, Ciel was initially told to just sit on a handy bench and listen while Falco told just a little bit about himself. "I grew up in circus; my parents were both performers before me, and their parents before them. But my grandparents were not trapeze artists; they worked with Lipizzaner horses, the white and clever ones. All my family performs, in different ways. My mother and my sister work with the horses now, my father and my little brother do juggling, my uncle and one cousin work with dogs, my other cousin is master of the high wire, I do the trapeze and trampoline, and my older brother is finest pagliaccio in all of Italy!"

"The finest... clown?" Ciel asked to clarify. He knew what the word meant, but it's not a word that he would ever have associated with the pride evident on Falco's face.

"Yes! If someday you ever go to Italy, you must see his performance! But I tell you all that so you will understand, from my family and from all my friends back in Italy, I know of many different ways to perform for audiences, many that this circus does not show; maybe even some you have never heard of! To find out what type of performing is best for you, the first question is most important: what performing do you want to do? I was watching while you were up on high wire; I heard you ask Joker if you could do a musical performance instead. Which instrument do you like?" Falco asked.

"The violin," Ciel said without hesitation. When he'd been a child, his parents had encouraged his interest in several musical instruments, from the accordion to the xylophone. He’d enjoyed playing with them in the nursery, because what boy doesn't like toys that make noise? He'd had the most fun with percussion instruments like his toy drum set, but since his mother had said she liked violin music best, he'd learned how to play a few simple songs on the violin for his parents before the Fire.

Since the Fire, Ciel had continued music lessons only because it was expected for a nobleman to have a well rounded education, including proficiency in some musical instrument. And since Sebastian himself favored the violin, that was the instrument the young earl had been rigorously tutored in for the last three years, until he could play some very difficult pieces with the sheet music in front of him, and several less difficult pieces from memory.

"And do you have a violin with you?"

"Ah... let me get my Da; he knows where it's packed away..."

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Five minutes later at the Phantomhive townhouse, Prince Soma was frowning at the chess board that Agni had set up for him so he could practice chess strategies, when he heard a noise and looked up to see Sebastian walking out of the music room, with Ciel’s violin case in hand. “Sebastian! How did you get—is Ciel here?” he asked eagerly.

“No, the master is currently elsewhere, heavily involved in the current investigation, and he now requires his violin. Pardon me, but I must hurry back to him,” Sebastian said politely as he strode through the door to the parlor. But when Soma followed him through the door, asking how on earth a violin could become crucial to one of Ciel’s mysterious investigations, the butler was nowhere to be seen.

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"Here you are, my boy; it took me a moment to unlock the trunk," Sebastian said as he handed the violin in its case to Ciel, carefully neglecting to mention that the trunk in question had been back at the townhouse.

"Thank you, Da," Ciel said with a sunny smile as he accepted the violin, and then had to endure Sebastian ruffling his hair again in a fatherly manner. Then Sebastian left to practice his performance elsewhere, while Ciel rosined up the bow and spent a few moments making sure the violin was properly tuned. Then he launched into one of the violin solo pieces Sebastian had drilled into him: Johann S. Bach's Sonata No.1 in G minor. At about three minutes into the solo, he glanced over at Falco, and noticed the man wearing a pensive frown.

What, not good enough for you? Ciel thought with irritation, and stopped playing Bach to launch into a far more difficult piece: Niccolo Paganini's Caprice No. 24 in A Minor. It was a notoriously difficult piece that frequently caused student violinists to break into either tears or a cold sweat when told to play it, so of course Sebastian had drilled him in playing the damn thing until his fingers bled. It had taken three solid months of practice last autumn, going through five horsehair bows and nearly a full set of strings in the process, before he could finally play it through consistently without errors.

"Paganini! I recognize the music now, and yes, you are very good with the violin," Falco interrupted him scarcely a minute into playing the caprice. "But this is... perhaps not best music for circus performance. Perhaps... Do you know any filastrocche?"

"Any what?" as Ciel stared at him.

"A filastrocca, a child's tune?"

“You want me to play a nursery rhyme?” Ciel asked, just to be sure, and got Falco's firm nod in response. So he lifted the bow and set the violin on his shoulder again, and after a bit of thought, he played "The Cat and the Fiddle." It had been years since he played it, but it was one of the tunes his old music tutor had taught him before the Fire, and after Sebastian's rigorous teaching methods, he was able to play nearly any simple piece from memory or even by ear.

After he played it through, Falco looked intrigued. "I do not know that tune; is it popular in this country?"

"Very popular; nearly every child knows it." And then after a quick look around to make sure that Sebastian wasn't close enough to hear him and later mock him for his poor singing voice, Ciel sang,

"Hey, diddle diddle,

The cat and the fiddle,

The cow jumped over the moon,

The little dog laughed to see such sport,

And the dish ran away with the spoon!"

Falco grinned at the silly lyrics, and then suggested, "Play again? And this time, think of not just the notes but the rhyme as you play. Think of what a sight it would be, to see a cat play music and a cow jump so high; think of dishes and spoons running about on tiny legs! Think of that as you play, and see what your fingers do."

Ciel raised his eyebrows at his instructor, but took a moment as he lifted his bow again to think about the rhyme. It really would be quite a sight, so see a cat fiddling and a cow jumping over the moon... Jumping that high, or being thrown that high? He pictured his loyal servants trying to make the rhyme come true for him: Finnian happily tossing a shocked Guernsey cow high in the air, Sebastian foisting a tiny violin on that cat in the gardens that he probably thought Ciel didn't know about, and all the dishes and cutlery running terrified from Bard's cooking in the kitchen... and a small but real smile danced on his lips as he played the tune again, twice through.

When Ciel finished, lifted his bow from the strings and gave him a questioning look, Falco clapped his hands and grinned at him. "Yes, now your violin sounds of life and happiness; of fun to have. Now you sound like you enjoy your own music!"

His words gave Ciel pause, and he stared at his instrument in thought. To play the violin, not because it was expected of him as a nobleman to have a well-rounded education, but because it was enjoyable? Playing music for fun?

Well, then... bugger Paganini, and bury Bach, Ciel thought with a positively wicked smile, as he tossed the last three years' worth of classical music lessons right out the window, before setting the violin--no, the fiddle; violins are classical instruments but fiddles are fun--to his shoulder again. And though he didn't realize it, the smile stayed on his face and become gentler as he drew the bow and teased out A-Hunting We Will Go, followed by Muffin Man. And then, because not all of the classical composers had been sadists bent on torturing little children's fingers, he played the main theme of Beethoven's Ode to Joy.

He raised his bow with a flourish when he was done, and Falco clapped even harder, grinning from ear to ear. "Yes! You were having fun, and that is what the circus is about! People come to the circus to either be amazed, or to laugh; to have fun! Yes, that will be your act! You will play the fiddle and dance for others, so they can share in your fun!”

The smile fell from Ciel's face like a rock from a cliff, hitting the bottom of his stomach as he echoed in dismay, "Dance?! I can't dance! I can barely manage a waltz without stepping on toes!"

Falco just chuckled at his dismay. "Ah, I do not speak of dancing with a lady; that is very different. For the dancing I am thinking of, you are already holding your partner, and she has no toes for you to step on! Dancing that is also for fun, not for courting ladies or for impressing fancy nobles. But we start you off easy. First, you just walk in wide circle around me, while playing fun music on your fiddle." That did indeed seem easy, so Ciel started walking while playing nursery rhymes again. After he made two complete circuits around Falco, the acrobat commanded, "Walk faster! If you do not hurry, other children will get all the sweets!"

Falco certainly knew how to inspire children, Ciel thought with a wry smile as he began trotting about in a circle, still playing the simplest lively tunes he knew. After a dozen more circuits, he began to feel a bit out of breath, and a full thirty circuits had him breathing hard and starting to sweat again, while Falco periodically spurred him on by clapping his hands at the trotting pace. But Ciel took considerable pride in the fact that even while he was puffing and sweating, his playing had not faltered for an instant.

Finally, Falco called a halt and had him hand over his fiddle and bow. "You did well; your music was always the joy!" the acrobat said cheerfully. "Practice the fast walking for an hour every morning and evening, and soon you will build up your strength until you will not even be breathing hard while playing. But now you just catch your breath, and watch me as I show you the fun dancing."

And with that, Falco set the fiddle to his shoulder and under his chin, and began skipping, hopping and capering about like a small child at play, which looked profoundly silly coming from a full-grown adult. Rather than actually play the violin, he waved the bow back and forth in the air while declaring cheerfully, "I do not play music like you; is not my talent! Instead, my body is my only instrument. But it is one that you have, too, and one that you can also play for fun! See?" And as he skipped and capered about, he sang, "Capra, capretta, che bruchi tra l'erbetta, vuoi una manciatina, di sale da cucina? Il sale é salato, il bimbo é nel prato, la mamma é alla fonte, il sole é sul monte, sul monte é l'erbetta, capra, capretta!"

Ciel had studied classical Latin more than Italian, but he knew enough to get the gist of the song Falco was singing. And his dancing really did bring to mind the sight of little goats romping in meadows... kids having fun, Ciel realized with a smile that had been startled into existence.

Maintaining his standing amongst the nobility of London and, more importantly, staying in the Queen's good favor meant that sometimes Ciel had been required to attend social events he couldn't get out of. That included soirees where he had to listen to other nobles singing, usually for the same reasons he played the violin; to show everyone that they had the well-rounded education required by their social rank. Ciel had also attended operas and concerts put on by true professionals, so he had some experience with singing voices of differing quality. Falco's voice was a mediocre tenor at best, but... the sheer joy that Ciel could hear in his voice, somehow made up quite a bit for the lack of quality. Could the same be true for playing instruments? Could truly enjoying what you were doing, make that much of a difference in all the performing arts?

After singing his filastrocca twice through and making three dancing circuits around him, Falco stopped and bowed with a big flourish, then gestured to Ciel with the hand holding his violin bow. “Now, your turn! To start, don’t play the violin, just dance for fun as a little child does. Ah, I see your face, but do not worry about looking silly; this is practice!”

“It-it’s not that,” Ciel said, though really that was a very large part of his hesitation. And the rest… “I honestly don’t remember ever dancing for fun like that. If I did, then I haven’t done it for many years!”

The smile Falco gave him was decidedly wry, and a tad condescending. “Smile, I think you are too young for saying ‘not for many years’. But still, I understand. That fancy noble you and your papa worked for, he did not like to see or hear children having fun, did he?”

Ciel had to bite back the impulse to respond with icy politeness, Earl Phantomhive begs to differ. His extremely successful business Funtom Company, which could have bought this entire circus and two more just like it, was certainly invested in children having fun! And moreover, Ciel didn’t appreciate aspersions cast on his character by someone who was clearly prejudiced against the upper class. But he and Sebastian had crafted the lie that Falco so wholeheartedly believed, so Ciel put on a suitably sad expression while saying, “Not really.”

“But there was joy in your life before then, yes? These last few years have been hard on you, that is plain to see, but before that… long before your mother died, rest her soul… Close your eyes for a moment, and think back,” Falco coaxed him. “Remember the smiles, the laughter, and then let your feet feel the happiness again.”

This could well turn out to be humiliating... but it wouldn't be as painful as those cursed balancing exercises had been. And if he didn't at least put in serious effort at developing a performance, he'd be relegated to mere kitchen duty, and peeling potatoes for hours on end. So Ciel closed his eyes and sent his mind back several years ago, riffling through childhood memories for what Falco had suggested, smiles and laughter...

His mother smiling, as she leaned in to kiss his forehead. His father smiling, as he ruffled his hair (funny, he hadn't realized that at one time he'd actually liked that.) Aunt Anne smiling, as she read a book to him on one of her visits. Tanaka smiling, as he came into the nursery to let Ciel know it was time for dinner. Back then, all the servants had smiled whenever they saw him... But laughter?

For laughter, there was only one source: Lizzie.

Ciel had grown up always knowing that someday he would be married to his cousin, but that day was so very far away, like the sun high in the sky, and just as ubiquitous; he knew it but he never really thought about it, because what mattered far more to a child was having a playmate. He used to wait eagerly for her visits, because while Sebastian was the very best dog in the world, and most of the servants were willing to indulge him in play when their duties permitted, it just wasn't the same as having someone his own age to play with. He remembered listening eagerly for the sound of their carriage on days that Lizzie and her mother would visit, and being barely able to wait for Tanaka to formally announce them before bursting from the nursery to clatter down the stairs towards the door, even as Lizzie rushed inwards to greet him.

On rainy days, they played in the nursery together. But on sunny days, they would go outside with Sebastian and romp on the great lawn, playing games for as long as Ciel's asthma and weak constitution would let them. Sometimes they'd sneak into the garden to see if the strawberries were ripe yet, or pretend they were great adventurers going to explore the forest (though someone always caught them before they went too far.)

Their relationship had started to change after Lizzie turned six years old, and both Aunt Francis and Aunt Anne began pressing her to act like a little lady. Then after Ciel turned six years old, his asthma took a turn for the worse; that was when they'd discovered he was allergic to cats, after petting a friendly wandering kitten sent him into sneezing and coughing spasms, that led into an attack that laid him out for three days straight. From then on, their afternoons together were generally more sedate, as they had tea parties and practiced manners befitting to their station. But sometimes, on days when he was feeling hale and hearty and when they'd managed to escape adult scrutiny for a little while, Lizzie would still play tag and other games in the garden with him.

He pictured Lizzie as she had been when they were small children together; only a little bit bigger than him, her shrill laughter drifting in the warm summer air and her golden hair shining bright as the sun as they played follow-the-leader: Follow me! Skip like this, Ciel!

Back then, he would have followed her anywhere.

He focused on that memory, made it sharp and vivid, until he felt he could truly see little Lizzie in front of him. Then he opened his eyes, but kept the vision of Lizzie dancing in front of him as he began to awkwardly skip in a circle.

Ciel just knew that right that moment, on the other side of the tent, Sebastian had abandoned all pretense of practicing his juggling in order to gape incredulously at the sight of his master the Earl Phantomhive, the Queen's Watchdog, skipping about like a six-year-old. But Falco was right there, and he actually cheered Ciel on with exclamations of "Good! A good start! Your feet are remembering how to have fun!"

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After he finally remembered how to skip along at a decent pace, Falco handed his violin back and had him skip for a few minutes while simply holding it correctly, and then a few minutes more while playing the scales and other simple tunes. It was hard at first, keeping his legs going like that while playing; he found himself slowing to a walk more than once, before angrily renewing the pace. Now instead of Lizzie, he could all too clearly envision his Aunt Frances scolding him, with her fencing blade in hand after thoroughly trouncing him at a lesson: Your footwork is weak, Ciel!

Nor was only his weak footwork an issue. The violin is well-known to be a temperamental instrument, unforgiving of the unskilled. It can make the sweetest music in the hands of a skilled player, melodies to rival the songbirds and perhaps even the angels themselves. But it only takes the slightest miscalculation or touch of carelessness on the violinist's part, for that heavenly music to become instead a hellish noise. Draw the bow across the strings at -not quite- the correct angle, or even just a little too hard; misplace a digit when fingering the strings on the always unmarked neck of the instrument, and the results can be a hideous screeching that makes the croaking of vultures sound pleasant in comparison.

To make beautiful music on the violin requires concentration, long hours of practice, and finesse. Finesse that one does not normally associate with skipping and hopping! The first stage of the practice had not been a problem, as Ciel had little problem in keeping his upper body relatively still while simply walking. But skipping and hopping, movements that jostled the violin or the bow... It took every ounce of concentration that Ciel could muster, all the iron-hard control that he normally exerted over his face and body language when facing down hardened criminals or businessmen four times his age, to keep drawing the bow smoothly across the strings at just the right angle and just the right amount of pressure despite all the jostling going on. Doing his best to play 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat' while skipping and dancing to the 3/4 beat, Ciel couldn't help thinking that even Sebastian's hardest lessons hadn't been as difficult as this. (Not that he'd ever, ever tell the demon so!)

But Ciel persevered, both in his playing and his footwork, and over the next hour he eventually get the hang of skipping and hopping in rhythm with what he was playing. "Good! Good!" Falco said with a grin when Ciel was finally able to make a full circuit of the ring without pausing in either his dancing or his playing of nursery rhymes. But then he called the practice to a halt, as Jumbo came in and told everyone that it was time to prepare for the evening performance; newcomers were to help in the props tent.

The props tent was utter chaos, and both Ciel and Sebastian were kept busy running back and forth and rummaging through trunks to fetch or find this and that, costume pieces and all manner of props for performing, for nearly all of the next full hour. After all the time he'd spent practicing earlier, Ciel was fairly exhausted by the time the show actually started and most of the first-tier members left to either perform or wait in the wings for their turn. Sitting slumped over on a stool, it took Ciel a full five minutes to realize that right that minute, all the first-tier members were accounted for and away from their tents... That this was an ideal opportunity to do a bit of sneaking around, looking for clues.

"Oi, Da!" he called out to keep his cover, as he hopped off the stool and hurried over to where Sebastian was tidying up a bench full of scattered prop pieces. The circus folk were sure to think that he used "Da" as the common nickname for 'father'; only he and Sebastian knew that it was actually short for 'damn demon.'

Once they were together and close enough for whispers, he murmured, "This is an opportunity to do some investigating, even before we rise to first-tier status! All the first-tier members are away from their tents. I need you to go to their area first and clear out any snakes that might still be slithering about, lock them up, and then come back for me so we can--"

"Black!" a voice suddenly called form the tent entrance, and they turned to see Joker there, carrying Wendy on his back while a worried-looking Peter walked at his side. Joker explained, "Miss Wendy twisted her ankle, so she cun't appear in p'rformance 'nymoor. So Black, please go out in 'er place! The show'll be fine if ye do it, Black, so I beg of yer!" And then even as Sebastian started to nod, Joker turned to head back out the door with Wendy, presumably to take her to the doctor's tent. The troupe leader tossed over his shoulder as he left, "It'll be yer turn shortly, so please git ready soon!"

" 'Tis a pity, young master. We'll have to wait for another chance," Sebastian murmured.

"Another opportunity will come, as soon as Wendy is ready to perform again," Ciel responded firmly, only somewhat disappointed. Some of the missing children had been gone for months already; a few more days' delay shouldn't make that much difference.

In the meantime, since trapeze work is usually performed in pairs or trios, 'Black' went to the show tent's anteroom with 'Smile' trailing behind him, to coordinate the performance routine with Peter. But Peter took one look up--and up--at him before giving a scornful huff. "Work with someone your size and weight? You'll rip my arms right out of their sockets. Just wait a minute; Joker's already getting your partner for the performance."

Even as Sebastian was demurring that he didn't weigh that much, the tent flap opened again and Falco came in, wearing his leotard again and with some colorful fabric flung over his shoulder. "Ah, Black! They told you already?" he greeted them cheerfully. "Exciting, to be performing again so soon, eh? I have a spare costume for you, if you need it!"

But when he held out the orange-and-yellow leotard for Sebastian to take, Ciel's butler took one look at the garish costume and nearly flinched. "Really, must I wear that?"

"At least it's not pink," Ciel muttered just loud enough for him to hear, knowing it would evoke memories of one of Lizzie's recent visits to the manor and the pink bonnet she'd put on Sebastian 'to make him cuter.'

Sebastian flashed Ciel a very dirty look, so fast that he would have missed it if he hadn't been watching (and hoping) for it, before turning to Falco and asking, "You have seen how well I perform in my usual attire. Do you not own a suit that you can wear?"

"Hey, that's not a bad idea," Dagger said as he stepped inside, while Peter left to check on Wendy. "With both of you in suits, we could bill you as the Flying Gentlemen!"

Falco, however, looked extremely dubious. "I have a suit, one for funerals and weddings, but I have never performed in it; it does not make for moving as free as a leotard."

"I happen to have some skills at quick tailoring when necessary," Sebastian reassured him, firmly ushering him out of the show tent and over to the performers' quarters.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Falco did indeed have a suit at the bottom of his trunk; a suitably black but badly wrinkled suit. And when he put it on to show Sebastian, it was clear that the suit had been bought off the rack at some cheap clothing store instead of tailor-made for him; not only was the fabric of a low quality that would never be found in the Phantomhive household, but it simply didn't fit him properly in the waist, chest or shoulders. For Abaddon's sake, even Bard looked better in the cook's sole suit than Falco did at the moment.

But Sebastian was undeterred. Even as 'Black', he was employed in this contract as the butler to an earl, and he would not wear a garish leotard unless his master specifically ordered him to (which, thankfully, the young master had not.) "Here, take it all off, and then see about polishing your shoes to a better shine while I do just a bit of work on your suit," he offered. Falco still looked highly dubious, but took the outfit off and gave it to Sebastian, while he dug out a shoeshine kit.

Sebastian took everything--suit jacket, trousers, waistcoat and shirt--back to the tent he now shared with his master. There he performed some fast tailoring on the shirt and jacket, based on what he'd calculated of Falco's measurements, as well ironing the entire ensemble. There was little he could do about the poor quality of the fabric without raising suspicions, but at least now it should fit Falco better while still allowing the freedom of movement necessary for a human to perform trapeze artistry.

He returned to Falco's tent, to find the other performer still polishing the first of his pair of shoes, and presented the suit to him; Falco put it on, while Sebastian gave the shoes a proper polishing. "Fantastico! It is so much better now; like a whole new suit!" Falco said with admiration as he put it on and turned this way and that.

"Oh, I can assure you, it is the same suit, with just a bit of work done to it," Sebastian said modestly as he handed over the shoes, which were now polished to a mirror finish.

"Sei un mito," Falco breathed in awe as he first saw his reflection in the shoes, and then looked at Sebastian with wide eyes. "Now I truly believe you were a fancy noble's butler!"

"One hell of a butler," the demon corrected him with a smile. "Now, what stunts shall we do for the performance, and in what order?"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

[thegamingmonk]

Encanto Headcanons #6

Yeah we're back baby! (Kinda). Now we got Disney confirming Encanto as a franchise?? Where's my show PLEASE!!!

Camilo has never been more disappointed than finding out he was about the same height as Bruno.

Pepa laughed her ass off when she found out Camilo thought Bruno was 7 foot.

Bruno thought it was sweet but also could never even imagine himself hitting 5'6".

Dolores and Camilo are the type of siblings to wish nothing but hell itself upon each other and then go get food and gossip together.

Dolores is a professional chancla thrower, taught from the best (Félix with the aim, Julieta with the accuracy, Alma with the energy).

Needless to say, Camilo fears One Thing.

It doesn't matter how old they'll get, nothing will stop Pepa and Bruno going out of their way to bother Julieta together when they're bored.

Julieta thought they'd stop when they reached their 20s at least. Years later and poor woman is a fool for thinking so.

Félix still carries all his kids like they're still babies. Antonio loves being carried, Dolores doesn't mind but does get a little embarrassed, and Camilo just goes limp cat on him.

Modern AU Bruno would go into the Olympics simply from that whole chase scene throughout Casita's walls.

The man knows all sorts of parkour. He teaches Camilo and Mirabel his moves. Dolores gets her 10/10 cardio from him (seriously, how the hell did she get from the hill to Casita so fast-).

Dolores and Bruno: the cryptid uncle-niece duo.

Sometimes Antonio will follow Luisa on donkey duty so he can talk with them. Apparently the donkeys are big fans of Luisa.

He tries to convince them to make his prima's life a bit easier and not escape as much. They'll try at least.

Miraboo is Agustín go-to nickname for Mirabel. Nobody else can call her that or she'll personally break their knees.

Sometimes when Dolores has no one else to talk to, she talks to Casita. A house can be a really good listener!

Pepa taught Mirabel how to sew. When Mirabel was younger, the two would just sit on her bed, sewing away.

More than once has Pepa tried to steal Mirabel away from Julieta. Soon she'll achieve.

Julieta knows how to use a rolling pin like a bat and it strikes fear in the heart of her siblings.

Camilo insisted that instead of "puberty", he'd call it "photosynthesis" for Isabela.

Dolores can wiggle her ears. Little ear wiggles.

Due to the family's natural clumsiness (or more Julieta's side of the family), Casita now has natural instincts on catching people from falling into mishap.

Casita gets so giddy when the family starts decorating it for parties. It feels pretty :3

Agustín and Mirabel have swapped glasses before, many times, just to see how it feels. Julieta fusses at them afterwards when they're complaining about headaches and eyes hurting.

Isabela may or may not chuck cacti for a living at people who talks bad about Mirabel.

"The not special special?? Oh hell no-"

Mirabel and Félix are peas in a pod, their positive energy nearly blinding the whole family when they're together.

Alma used to be a menace to society before she met Pedro. Now the triplets know who they get it from.

Pedro was more on the wholesome side but also had his moments when he'd be up to no good.

Chaotic energy came from Alma, sassiness came from Pedro.

Pepa is strong enough to lift up Luisa.

Alma will just sometimes sit in the middle of the grandkids' chaos and sip tea, enjoying the life of being an abuela.

Mariano likes to do origami in his free time. Every week he gives Dolores a new creation.

He even starts to make some for the rest of the Madrigals.

Mirabel "Dolores, I'm stealing your boyfriend for the day" and Dolores "Return him by 6" Madrigal.

Mirabel with Camilo is chaotic neutral while Mirabel with Mariano is chaotic good.

Rock kid Dolores. I'm in love with this headcanon, you have no idea.

Antonio starts to take after Bruno a lot more with his quietness and preference to talking to animals. Pepa doesn't know whether to consider this sweet or concerning.

Neither does Bruno, to be honest.

I have so many thoughts about this family, it's not even funny... But that's all for now folks!

[ectokelpeigh]

No One Knows AU is so great for so many reasons but I have this one scenario bouncing around in my head and given today's DannyMay theme it seems like a good time to slosh it into the hellsite blender:

Phantom and Danny Fenton hate each other.

We're going with my favorite flavor: Sam and Tucker don't really know Danny Fenton and befriend Phantom separately/first. (Maybe the Fentons are new in town or something. Not important) Also @artistfingers's Undercover Phantom AU lives rent free in my head so if any of this looks familiar... yea

-Once Danny befriends Sam and Tucker as Phantom, he avoids them as much as he can when he's human. Less opportunity for them to make the connection, especially since knows he has the finesse of a baby giraffe in roller skates. Because Sam and Tucker are Good Guys I'd love to assert that "of course they'd see Danny sitting alone at lunch and invite him over!" or something. And I think they might! But it's not a given IMO.

-Anyway as Sam and Tucker bond with Phantom, it becomes more evident that there's some kind of connection between Phantom and Danny. Maybe something makes them suspicious of Danny. For example the Fentons come up in conversation and

Phantom: I'd steer clear of that family if I were you

Sam & Tucker: ok yeah if we were you we'd avoid the parents too, but the kids seem harmless? their son is actually in our grade and we can't tell if he's lonely or just tired

Phantom (because I love Danny but can be stoopid): No! Especially avoid their son!

Danny was trying to cover his own ass and they interpret it as Phantom being afraid of Danny and assume there's unsavory history.

-Sam and Tucker happen to ask their good buddy Phantom why he and the rest of the ghosts suddenly showed up in Amity Park one day when Danny happens to be in a terrible mood. Just had one of those days. His life is falling to shit because he's living two lives and even his two new friends can't support all of him, you know?

In canon he has a strong sense of duty to protect AP but IIRC they never make the connection to him triggering the ghost influx and any consequential guilt/blame. I think not having Sam and Tucker as a support system from the start would push this over the edge.

-So he's feeling down on himself. Inadequate. But he can't say exactly why he's requesting an 'F' in the chat for respeccs because it's all very human drama and he's not a great liar, so he just rants about his human self in the third person.

It's cathartic. Too cathartic. He gets a liiiiiiiiiittle carried away. He gets to admit to (perceived) responsibility without the pitying looks and cold comfort. Most people's automatic response to "I messed up" is "no you didn't!!", and sometimes that's not what you want/need to hear, you know?

-...remember how I said he gets "a little carried away"? By that I mean he reveals (as Phantom) that Danny Fenton turned on the ghost portal and let all the ghosts loose in Amity Park, and now he (Phantom) has been cleaning up his mess all by himself while Danny has done nothing.

-Of course the subtext here is that Danny feels like he's only useful as Phantom. He never felt particularly remarkable before the accident. Since then he's been struggling with grades more than ever, his family is worried because he's been distant, etc. And of course he finally makes friends but they don't like the real him.

We all know Phantom is also the real him, but to Danny the "him" that goes to school, lives with his family, has actual connections to society did not make these friends. And as you recall in this scenario Danny was actively avoiding Sam and Tucker once they became friends with Phantom. But. Y'know. Brains aren't always logical

-Back to the scene: Phantom barely lets Sam and Tucker get a word in through his rant, and then a ghost attacks and he has to fly off. That was... confusing, to say the least, and that's the last they see/hear of Phantom that day.

-So the next day at school Sam and Tucker sit at Danny's usual lunch table and Sam pokes him awake from his daily nap. They try to broach the subject with a smidgen of tact but of course Danny has a lot more context than they know.

-Danny's not sure how to deal with the situation he created for himself besides digging in his heels + it felt so good ranting the day before that he hardly hesitates before he (as Fenton) launches into a rant about Phantom.

-Even though he's technically dissing their buddy, Sam and Tucker actually walk away with some sympathy for the kid. They come to three conclusions: 1. Turning on the portal was an accident and 2. Danny's beef with Phantom is personal. He doesn't have his parents' animosity towards all ghosts and 3. He's... weirdly easy to talk to? It's like they already know him wow crazy ha ha ha hA hAH AHAH aha. (haha)

-Unfortunately this outburst happened in the cafeteria of a high school and people overheard this extremely juicy development wherein the local loner child of two mad scientists has a personal feud with the controversial town hero/menace. Word does not take long to spread because students and faculty agree that even in a town overrun with ghosts this is the most insane thing they've heard. And everyone has a theory. People spot Phantom patrolling the night sky and shout to him, asking if he'd like to comment on the latest rumor from/about Danny Fenton. Danny routinely forgets he can ignore them, fly away, turn invisible, anything other than dig himself deeper. But hey, it helps him keep his cover at least?

-Fun fact: Jazz knows they're the same person but Danny doesn't know she knows and she's freaking the fuck out over all this apparent self hatred but even she doesn't know where to start to break it down

-All the while Sam and Tucker have been making more of an effort to hang out with Fenton. Danny is... confused by this, to say the least. Figures they're taking pity on the kid since they triggered the blowup that made him look like even more of a freak, and/or they're mining him for more Phantom secrets. A small part of him is also petrified he'll slip and they'll find out he's been lying to them. But he likes them and self restraint has never been his strong suit. Even if they can't really like Danny (Fenton) that much they're nice to him and he has fun with them, and even if he has to keep track of which memories/info he should have access to as his human or ghost self it's nice to always have friends.

-If you want some extra layers of irony: Sam and Tucker keep it a secret from Phantom that they've been hanging out with Fenton, and they hide their friendship with Phantom from Fenton. But Danny can't call them out on it without revealing that he's been lying to them about being Fenton and Phantom. It's the Mexican standoff from the Ghost Zone hell.

-I'll let you all decide just how far the miscommunications go. Maybe Tucker lets it slip to Phantom that he and Sam are friends with Fenton now and instead of taking this prime opportunity to come clean himself, Danny panics and reacts hurt or outraged (and really sells it, even if the real fuel behind his distress is guilt). Orrrrrrr Danny loses track of the half-truths and references something Sam told Phantom as Fenton. Etc.

-Don't worry guys I'm all about the wholesome endings: One day Phantom is going off about Danny Fenton, and Sam and Tucker do their best to validate Phantom's frustrations, but Danny is totally blown away when they finally stick up for Fenton. To his face. They say that's it, they've heard enough, those two obviously have a complicated history but some of the things Phantom says about Danny are just unfair. As the only two people to know Danny and Phantom both personally, Sam and Tucker have concluded that they have the authority to declare neither are menaces, or useless, or have "stupid hair", thanks. ("Both your senses of style, on the other hand..." "Hey!") Opening the portal was an accident. Fenton doesn't need to be useful, he's a kid. A kid in a tough situation doing his best just like themselves, like Phantom, like anyone else. Sam and Tucker don't have powers, are they useless? No. And Danny and Phantom might even get along if they can just cool down (LOL) and talk it out. But he has to stop. Danny Fenton is their friend.

-Phantom's standing there with his jaw on the floor. They said everything he needed to hear, having no way of knowing it's what he wanted to hear. Quite the opposite, actually. His feet touch down on the floor, his voice has lost most of its haunting echo when he says, "I'm your friend?"

This confuses Tucker and Sam: yeah?? but that's not the point?? We're saying DANNY is also— OH FUCK

(Phantom just turned into Fenton)

[avesblues2]

do you have any advice as a married Christian woman for couples about cohabitation before marriage? did you ever worry about how things would be like living together with your husband? I hear it can make or break a relationship if you aren't actually compatible under the same roof and don't see how they live.

I am of the traditional stance that cohabitation is a no no. I'll link a couple of studies on it but even without the studies I believe it's pretty common sense as a christian to know why it's problematic. The laws of nature and nature's God. God's truths are woven into the fabric of our reality, whether one believes them or not. My husband and I moved in after marriage and our marriage is amazing, same with all the other christian marriages at our church.

Lust. It is almost impossible to live with your bf/gf and not end up having sex. You are living under the same household. You probably share a bed. You are with each other possibly all night. I mean, it's hard enough when the two of you are alone and not living together to abstain but living together? Yeah, surely you will fall into the sin of premarital sex.

Acting like your married when you aren't. Why would you test the waters before getting married is my question? What is "testing" the waters even? When you are married, it's for life. Your marriage will have ups and downs. You should know the character of your boyfriend/girlfriend before proposal. If you are equally yoked and God is in the center, the marriage has a rock for a foundation. That is all you need, despite what society may say nowadays. Speaking to women, if any man wants to "test" things out. He doesn't want to marry you plain and simple. He wants a live in girlfriend who will the wifely duties without the commitment.

There's a lot of non-spiritual issues as well. Who owns what? What happens if you break up? Who owns the place, who can leave? Who can take this or that? It's a mess.

Around 60-70% of couples are cohabiting before marriage. More people are comfortable being roommates with benefits essentially than husband and wife. Cohabitation doubled one’s chances of divorce. Ask yourself why that may be? Look at how God has written how relationships should be and you will find your answer there.

Just think about the difference in mentality of two people who are simply living together; instead of a lifetime commitment, cohabitation is meant as a trial. That's the viewpoint. Marriage is a vocation, but it is also a sacrament—a sacred bond and Christ dwells within that. I like this quote " His involvement gives us the grace we need to help sustain the marriage. Cohabitating couples do not have this grace to sustain them because they have not taken a vow."

Is the type of person you want to spend your life with a person who is trying you out? Testing the waters? Clearly doesn't want the commitment but wants you in some shape or form still?

This research study is funny because they hypothesize that people who are cohabitating are just already people prone to divorce regardless lol.

And here's a christian article on the matter

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Quarter!

Word Count - 2,800

Perspective - 2nd person

When - the Quarry. Same universe as Slowpoke and Deal. Find the Slowpoke Series and other stuff here!

Relationships - you and the gang! But this one mainly features the kiddos: our boy Carl, Sophia, and the two Morales children Eliza and Luis. There is no Daryl crush quite yet, but it follows the development and arc of his character, including how "you” perceive him.

Genre - nice and fluffy (though Daryl still should have used the pillow)

Pronouns - not technically mentioned again

TWs - language including the f-bomb, and allusions to spousal and parental abuse (Ed Pelletier)

“Will you tell me honestly?”

“Always Carl, what’s up?” you tell him.

“I think it’s cool and all, but are we gonna use stuff this in the real world?”

You shoot him a mischievous look. “Bored, punk?”

That made Luis giggle.

“Not too bored.” Carl smiled and tilted his head. “Just...wondering.”

Sophia speaks up, voice quiet as always. “My mom says we’re learning these things now, because they’re the, um, the foundation for the more bigger stuff we can learn later.”

“My papi said the same thing!” Eliza jumped in. “Learning about angles is what we need if we want to build buildings!”

“Or bridges and stuff!” Sophia added excitedly.

“Heck yes, girls, exactly! You two ladies thinkin’ about becoming architects?” you ask them. “Ms. Jacqui works in something to do with buildings and such, y’all should chat!”

“Maybe,” Sophia responds first. “I sort of want to be a policeman – well, policewoman – or a detective or something. Then I could stop bad guys from hurting people and stuff.”

You tamp down the rage that you felt bubbling up regarding that little girl’s trashcan of a father.

“Did you, um,” you stop to clear your throat and remind yourself to stay calm. “You talk to my brother yet, honey? Mr. Walsh a cop.” You lift your shoulders and smile. “He could tell you all about it.”

“He was cop partners with your daddy, right Carl?” Luis asks.

“Y-yeah...”

You don’t need to look to know that Carl’s expression had fallen. You could hear it in that response.

The kids did too.

“I’m sorry your daddy died, Carl. I would hate to lose my papi,” Luis tries to comfort him. “Yo, I have a pudding cup I’ve been saving. Do you want to share it? It’s chocolate!”

Then you hear Eliza then whisper to Sophia “You can sleep in our tent again tonight if you want. Maybe your mama can come if she doesn’t want him yelling at her more.”

Oh fuck, how had a – oops! You meant “oh fudge.” If you’d said that word out loud, you’d owe each kid a quarter. Rules is rules.

But really, how had finishing a math lesson turned into this? You glance around hoping to see one of their parents who could help (minus Ed. If he disappeared and never returned, good. You’d only feel sadness for Carol, because she would blame herself. Battered women usually think that they deserved the hurt or that it doesn’t matter).

Anyways, you’d taken over the schooling for the rest of the morning and are pretty much on your own for the moment, it seems. Carol had taken kitchen duty, and Lori was with Miranda doing either laundry duty or water duty, and you knew that Mr. Morales was on another run. And forget Shane.

You love your big brother, but he’d probably get them to ditch school early with him to go catch frogs or listen to Led Zeppelin or something. He’s fun like that. When you were little, he’d picked you up from school on more than one occasion to take you to the movies, swimming, shooting range, or to get hush puppies and fried catfish.

Yeah naw, you are gonna have to handle this yourself. Amy helps out sometimes, but she’s doing something with Andrea. Cleaning out that canoe, you think…

Yeah nope, you are solo for this one.

But it’s no big thing, you tell yourself. They’ve already been living through a worldwide pandemic that lead to society collapsing. And you know how to be honest with kids in a delicate way, if the situation got sticky. And having a deceased parent is something that’s become more than very common.

Having an abusive one, on the other hand…

Ugh. You hate this. You hate Ed. May he fall off the quarry edge and drown.

Okay. Back to it, you tell yourself. Revert the subject back to schoolwork in a non-awkward and non-dismissive way. Later, you’d offer to Carol to have Sophia share your tent again, if she didn’t have another sleepover with Eliza. If only Carol would share your tent, too…

Ugh! Shane had warned you against getting too involved in their situation. So had Dale. But how could you not want to?

Yes, you understand that the fallout for Carol and Sophia is the worry. But you also know that Shane is right there with you in wanting to break both of Ed’s filthy hands and maybe his face while you were at it.

Whoa. Calm down.

You try to remind yourself that every person is capable of redemption...ugh...

“Alright, kiddos. Eliza, Carl, and Sophia, no more skirting around your geometry. And how are you feelin’ about your times tables, little man?” you direct at Luis. “Did you wanna go over them again?”

“I wanna go over them with mama later,” Luis decides.

“You know what I want to do later? I want to build a twig cabin to put daddy longlegs in.”

“Oo I like that, that would be so cool! But no spiders!”

You consider...“Carl, you are totally gonna build a twig cabin because like Eliza just said, that would be so cool,” you begin, feeling your mood perk back up. You grin at the kids.

“So your homework is to do just that, okay? Count how many sticks you use. Be as imaginative as you want, just keep this in mind: we’re gonna count and measure every stick used, and measure the angles of the walls and the roof.”

“How come? Is that part of a test?”

“Yes indeed, Miss Sophia: we’re gonna test ‘em out tomorrow by putting a jug of water on top to see how strong they are. So what do y’all say, sound good?”

Their replies are in the affirmative.

Carl obviously teases you about assigning homework when school was a picnic table, so you remind him that “Punk, you were the one who came up with the assignment.”

Luis, by now, has half of his body stretched out on the table. He’s the youngest of the group, and is getting restless. “Are we gonna learn about eating bark again today for our last lesson?”

“Why, are ya hungry, little man?” you wink at him. He giggles.

“You kids vote. Do y’all want to learn some more first aid or health things, a wilderness survival tip, or to practice throwing punches again?”

The ‘last lesson’ was something that you or somebody else in the group tried to do every day. For example, tomorrow, Dale and Jim were going to do a mechanical lesson with them. Amy had done a fishing one, and T-Dog had done a football workout with them and showed them how to throw spirals.

Your lessons have been nothing too fancy or complex, but you wanted to put what you’d learned in school and EMT training to good use. Not that your official national exam results would be coming in anytime soon, what with the...state of things in the world.

Shane (the provider of the self-defense tips, naturally) had told you more than once how lucky you were to have done your classes, training, and testing just before the outbreaks started. Hand to God, you were more than a little grateful that you hadn’t been training or working in an ambulance when the sickness started. You’d been part-timing as a phlebotomist and that was a close enough call.

The wilderness tips came from your collection of books you’d kept in a hiking bag in your trunk. “Backyard Medicine,” etc, those types of books. You’d found that subject fascinating and intriguing in the before-times. Well, you sure were grateful for that now. Who knows how long you’ll all be out here?

And since that dude Daryl has let you join a few times when he’s done his hunting thing, you hope to learn enough that you’ll be able to share some pointers on that soon enough. Pity that he and his brother are racist, rude, stereotype dickheads.

For real, the older one, Merle, had walked by once when Miranda was doing a Spanish lesson, and he started to comment about “that sp*c language.” See, even he’s helping to give lessons: the kids learned right away that people will mock you for no reason other than they’re racist and high.

Ugh, that trash even had (you’d gladly pay the quarters to use the obscenity) the fucking SS symbol on his bike. You’d thought the motorcycle was cool until your saw what that nazi had painted on it.

At least Daryl was quieter and knew his stuff. He’s patient enough to let you tag along on some of his hunts, and on that note, hunts for the group.

Merle seemed to bully him a lot, actually. And not always in the way siblings will rag on each other. It was upsetting.

Anyways, you can admit that Daryl is decent enough. He sure ain’t Ed.

“Punches!” Sophia and Luis immediately vote. Okay, fifty-fifty already.

“Wilderness survival stuff,” is Carl’s vote.

“First aid seems the most important,” is Eliza’s vote.

Okay, punches wins. You’re running out of ideas for self-defense lessons, though. You’d already showed them the escape moves that Shane had taught you, and the last two times you’d shown them a set of basic punches and kicks that you’d learned from, um...kickboxing workout videos.

But hey, punches are punches, right? So long as you hold your arm and wrist the right way. Yeah. That’ll do the trick. It’s not like you’re about to show them that choke hold Shane showed you that time. Apparently, it’s illegal.

Yeah, foundational stuff is great for the kids. You’ll re-teach the hitting and kicking sets, with a focus on holding the wrist correctly and throwing their weight correctly! That should work nicely.

The thought pops into your head that you wish Carol was present. Well, maybe it might can still benefit the both of them, since Sophia was learning, right?

You jog over to grab the camping cushion that Dale had given to Jacqui, that’s what you used for the kids to practice hitting. “Okey dokey, proper stance, y’all. Show me it.”

The kids spread their legs to shoulder width, good. Their arms are bent at the elbow with fists formed, good. “Remember, don’t hunch your shoulders, although that might feel natural if you ever find yourself in a fight. But you might could hurt yourselves, so no hunched shoulders, yes?” At this, their backs straighten up some, good.

“When you bend your knees, keep it slight, not too much. Remember, the idea is y’all want to be able to move quickly in either direction, dependin’ on how your opponent –”

“What’s the ponent?” Luis cut in, brows set in concentration. Gosh, he’s he adorable. He gets so serious when he was learning how to fight, look at his face! Mr. Morales is a boxing fan, if you aren’t mistaken. Was it Jim you heard him talking about Manny Pacquiao to the other day? They’re both Pacman fans, you’re pretty sure.

“The opponent is your attacker, the person fightin’ you,” you clear up for Luis, then resume the lesson.

“Whichever is your dominant hand – that’s the one you write with – have the opposite leg more forwards, right?” you instruct. “Cause we wanna be able to use our body weight to hit harder and not tire ourselves out too fast.”

You look around at their positioning. “Sophia, tuck your thumb like this, okay? Kids, thumbs get tucked down here like this,” you demonstrate. “You might can break them super easy otherwise. That’s why striking with the heel of your palm is better, too!” 

Predictably, Eliza and Sophia listened the first time you told them this, but Carl and Luis soon switched to fists. You'd usually insist on making sure they're using palms only, but all of them except Eliza are heeding the advice today. Must be that they're more confident after a few lessons.

“Did you ever break your thumb when you punched someone?” Luis then asks, and it's all you can do to not to hide in embarrassment.

Pardon: when? Not if? Do you seem like a throwing-hands type of person? Well...maybe you’re sorta hot-headed, but you’re also...gentle and sort of goofy. That’s why you and Glenn get along so well...right? Oh crap, how do people perceive you?

“Happily, I ain’t broken no bones at all yet, fingers crossed.” You pause, then snort “But no fingers crossed when making a fist, m’kay?”

Carl cracks up at that, then he, Sophia, and Eliza start to make overly exaggerated bad fists and fake punches, complete with sound effects. Luis will of course do no such thing, and instead begins to throw adorable (but very serious) kicks.

“Hey kid, don’t do that with your back,” a voice interrupts. You sigh.

Least it isn’t Merle or Ed. Whatever, so long as Daryl doesn’t use any bad words around the babies.

He walks over, complete with one, two...seven dead squirrels flopping on his belt, and rasps at Luis that “If you lean too far back like that, you could throw your balance off and fall and shit.”

“Quarter...”

“Quarter.”

“Quarter!”

“Quarter!”

“Quarter,” you huff to yourself.

Daryl both sounds and looks annoyed. “Why the hell y’all sayin’ quarter?”

“That’s another quarter,” Luis whispers.

“We got a no-cuss-rule, remember?” you explain, putting your hand on Luis’ shoulder and subtly guiding him towards you.

“What, like your no-litter rule?”

You choose to ignore that, already feeling that anger bubble back up. “Exactly. But for this, rule is you owe each kid a quarter when you swear within earshot,” you say, attempting to sound cheery if only for the kids’ sakes.

Surprisingly, Daryl only shrugs as if in surrender.

Until he then grumbles “That’s bullshit. What they gonna do with quarters anyways?”

“He now owes each of you three quarters,” you loudly announce. “How many pennies is that, guys?”

Whoa hold up. Is Daryl...checking his pockets for change?

“Seventy-five cents,” Sophia replies timidly. Men like Daryl (who you’d politely describe as “gruff”) made her nervous, and you couldn’t blame her. Sophia also adds “That was an easy one, though. Everyone knows three quarters is seventy-five cents.”

“Yeah, we’re not babies.”

“Carl, please,” you tease. “I changed your diapers; you’ll always be a baby to me.” And you are about to have them tell you seventy-five times three (while desperately doing the math in your head!), until you see Sophia's cute little expression.

She’s smiling shyly. “C’mon, we’re not that little.” The sweet way that she said it while holding the doll that Eliza shared with her sort of makes the sentence have the opposite effect.

“Sometimes, I liked to pretend Luis was my baby when he was smaller,” Eliza tells you all.

As you and the kids chatter on, you notice that Daryl’s expression looks...nice? You aren’t sure. But he didn’t seem annoyed anymore. You could almost venture to guess that he’s entertained. At least he isn’t being a dick, and hopefully he isn’t amused by the kids because he’s a creep. You’d never gotten that vibe, but now you wonder...

He catches your eye. “So, you gonna keep showin’ them how to hit right, or just keep yappin’?”

Well, you'd known it was only a matter of time until he turned dickish again.

“Mr. Dixon’s right, let’s get back to it. Get into position.” You grab the pillow and hold it out to him. “You’ve punched someone before, right?”

“What, I got that look or somethin’?”

“Yes. But it’s not an insult,” you quickly say. You shouldn’t be rude, plus you meant it. “It’s important for the kids to learn how to do something from somebody who has actual experience doing it.”

You notice that his eyes make the briefest of once-overs on you. “Yeah, you don’t look like you should be teachin’ no fight club.”

“Hey, shh! That’s the first rule!” you joke, hoping he got it. You’d never actually seen the movie, but everyone knows the first rule of fight club.

And to your delight, he snorts and almost smiles.

You look at the kids and incline your head towards Daryl. “Do me proud, nerds, then school’s out.”

He awkwardly holds the pillow and the kids start to practice. After the first kid goes (Eliza), he ditches the pillow, instead having them hit his arm (no, seriously). You bite your lip, nervous, as he winces a little when the kids start hitting somewhat harder. They're just excited to see if they could do well against someone tough like him, but still...

“We’re practicing proper technique here, my little savages, not tryin’ to maim Mr. Dixon,” you warn.

Carl does admirably, Eliza has the spirit at least, and Sophia, to your delight, causes the man to grimace and rub his arm in the spots she struck. You have to admit that you feel sort of guilty that he is most certainly gonna to be bruised and sore, but hey, he’d chosen to forego the pillow.

But then it’s Luis’ turn. Little man Luis, who takes his self-defense lessons very seriously. He asks Daryl “I keep my back like this?” and Daryl re-positions him, then nods for the boy to begin.

You should've seen it coming. So should've Daryl.

Luis does his punches as hard and quick as he can, but then adds kicks – and one hits Daryl right in the you-know-where.

Aw, shit.

“Son-of-a-bitch!” he yelps, buckling before storming away. Then he turns around. As he’s heading back, face red, you’ve already been apologizing, as is poor Luis, who’s scared and probably thinking that he’s about to actually need to defend himself from an angry, scary, mean grown-up. Sophia has gone white, Carl is holding her hand, and Eliza has already stepped next to you and her little brother.

You’re ready to shut the man down if he gets too mouthy; Luis is a child, he made a mistake, he knows it, he’s sorry. End of story.

And Daryl should’ve been using the pillow! Your heart is pounding, you feel yourself starting to sweat, even your hands feel tingly.

But you’re still not going to take any of his shit. You gulp and hope you don’t look nervous.

And now he’s back in front of you.

But instead of an angry tirade...Daryl shuffles his feet (??), rubs his neck, and waves off Luis’ and your apologies.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he grunts. “I owe ‘em another damn quarter.”

Then he blinks when he realizes it. “...another two quarters.”

[hoursofreading]

As a leftist, my core political assumption is that we are all responsible for each other’s material well-being, that we have a duty to build the kind of society where everyone’s basic needs are met, where everyone enjoys a certain degree of material comfort, and where our rights are respected equally regardless of race, religious, sexual and gender identity, ethnicity, or creed. That is the kind of mutual caring that I signed up for when I became politically conscious as a teenager. I never signed up for a vision of a society that helps everyone out there to constantly feel valid, mostly because society could never achieve such a thing. Nobody walks around feeling good about themselves all the time! Where on earth did people get the idea that human beings are meant to enjoy a permanent sense of mental security and social validity? That’s a totally unworkable and in fact quite cruel standard. If you want to be good to yourself, I suggest that you stop expecting society to be your therapist and go see licensed medical professionals in private to address the issues in your life that are appropriately treated that way. And if you want to be good to your society, I suggest you help to defeat the medicalization of everything, the casualization of the concept of trauma, the celebration of mental disorders, the assumption that everything that makes us unhappy is an injustice, the insistence that all conflict is abuse, and the infantilization of the human animal. That’s the best way to help. I would never respond to someone telling me that they’re in pain by saying that I don’t care. In fact I’ve spent hours talking complete strangers through mental health crises. But if you care for people you try to walk them towards self-reliance, dignity, and toughness. Not from a lack of compassion, but precisely out of compassion. What compassion calls for is not pop therapy or affirmation but the extension of adult respect, helping people to endure a tragic earth. What’s required in the days ahead is for all of us to be a little harder on ourselves while we fight like hell for a world with less poverty, racism, injustice, sexism, and inequality. And we have to unwind a lot of bad habits of mind that have become inescapable before they hurt more people than they already have. Yeah, sometimes you have imposter syndrome. And sometimes you feel like an imposter because you actually do suck at what you’re trying to do. Sometimes she’s not a narcissist, she just doesn’t love you the way you want her to, and she never will. Sometimes you don’t have ADHD, you just hate your job. Sometimes your boss isn’t a sociopath, he’s just correctly identified you as unqualified for a leadership position. Sometimes you really do have schizophrenia, only there’s nothing glamorous or exciting or romantic about it, and now you’re fat from meds and trying to hold down a steady job and going to support group to drink grainy coffee and hear people tell the same stories over and over again. And sometimes you’re just in pain because the world didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to, and you’re trying to scratch out a life you can live with, and you get overwhelmed with your mundane unhappiness on the subway home from work, and you think to yourself that it must be true that your suffering is something grander, something that calls out for medical attention and reasonable accommodation, something more that makes it easier. But it isn’t and it doesn’t and there isn't and you're just another good, deserving human being filled with the pain of being alive. I’m sorry. I am genuinely so sorry. You wanted things, and you didn't get them, and it hurts. You wanted to be something else, and you're what you are, and it hurts. You thought life would be more than it is, and it isn't, and it hurts. Me too. All of it hurts. So let it hurt.