Walker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thelongcon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2016-05-19 08:26 pm
thelongcon) wrote in bakerstreet2016-05-19 08:26 pm
Welcome, dreamers
The Night Circus
"The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night." - Erin Morgenstern
As you wander the grounds of Le Cirque des Rêves, black and white striped tents on all sides try to catch your attention. Which tent will you choose? Who will you meet in the tent? Or maybe you're a performer, ready to dazzle your audience as they walk in.
How does this meme work?
1 - Post a comment with your character's name and canon in subject.
2a - If you want to be a performer, add a tent number.
or
2b - If not, leave it blank.
3 - Tag others. Do NOT roll if they already have a number in their subject line. Roll (or choose) if they do not.
2 - Tsukiko - The contortionist. The contortionist does not have a tent. Round a corner, follow the path that circles the tents and you are likely to find the contortionist performing, feats of extraordinary dexterity and flexibility, slowly stuffing herself (or himself!) into a small glass box on the ground.
3 - Widget and Poppet - The animal trainers. The trainers perform outside of the tents, coaxing a multitude of black and white kittens to dance, to leap through hoops and run up and down curious and delighted audience members. Or maybe slip into the tent behind them, where two other animal trainers do similar tricks with leopards and panthers.
4 - The Illusionist - The illusionist performs in a small, black and white striped tent that holds no more than twenty. With theatrical gestures, the illusionist transforms a gentleman's scarf into a half-dozen white doves, produces flames that dance but do not burn, and even causes a tree to grow from an empty seat, pure white and silver blossoms blooming before the audience's eyes. Is it magic?
5 - Celia and Marco - The lovers. The fantastic circus and all its wonders are nothing but a backdrop for the forbidden love that has blossomed between the two of you. How will you keep your love a secret? Kisses stolen between striped tents? Bittersweet goodbyes as the sun rises and the wrought iron gates of the Night Circus closes for another day?
6 - Cloud Maze - This tent is one of the tallest in the circus, and once you slip between the black and white striped flaps, you see a tower of fluffy white mist. As you touch the mist, it is soft and warm against your hand. The more you explore, the more you see hanging platforms, ropes, and ribbons hidden among the white clouds. Through them you can climb to the top of the tower of white cloud. Do not be afraid of falling or jumping off the tower or the platforms, for the white misty clouds will support your weight, catch and envelop you in white.
7 - Bedtime Stories - This tent is small, almost hidden among the rest of the circus. Within is a room filled with shelves and tables, and bottles and jars litter every flat surface. Open a bottle, and a scent escapes. Breathe deep, and a story unfurls for you, so real that you can feel every touch. Will you share the stories with your companion? Or dare each other to try ever stranger experiences?
8 - The Wishing Tree - There is nothing in this tent except a sprawling tree that bears candles instead of leaves. Many of the candles are lit, their flames flickering in the slight breeze that permeates the tent. A card on the tree instructs you to take a candle from the tree and make a wish on it, lighting it with the flame from another wish. What will you wish for? It's said that wishes lit on the Wishing Tree come true...
9 - The Ice Garden - Everything inside this tent is white, and it takes only a moment to notice that the sprawling garden within the tent is created entirely of ice. Every posy petal, every delicate branch of a tree. The 'grass' beneath your feet is pure white snow, and brushing by a tree will send another sprinkle of white onto your head. How will you and your companion explore this place?
10 - The Labyrinth - This tent is just like any other from the outside, but as you walk in, it changes. Perhaps you'll find yourself in a library that smells of leather and is lit by flickering candles. Or a valley full of fine white sand flanked by rolling hills. Or maybe you find yourself in a giant silver birdcage. The possibilities within the Labyrinth are endless, but there are always two constants:
1 - the way into each new part of the labyrinth is not the way out.
2 - there is always a way out.
11 - Wild Card - There are more wonders at the Night Circus than the list above. Watching the acrobats or trapeze artists? Run through a Hall of Mirrors that shows uncannny insights? Eat delicious circus treats until dawn? All are possible!
Source: HERE
Wanda Maximoff | MCU | ota
steve rogers | mcu | ota
lets wing this au shit man
There is a new tent with a new tenant, a permanent new fixture with the troupe and, strangely enough, nobody but the manager himself seems to know anything about it. Nothing concrete, at least, but there's enough to circulate rumors thanks to the old fashioned, worn wooden double-sided sign sitting out front of the entranceway. It reads:
palmistry
past lives
dream readings
tea leaves
visions of the future
see what has been and will be
see what won't have been
$10
The marksman Clint, who has never missed an arrow, a knife, or a piece of solid information, says that the fortune teller's name is James, that he's from New York, and that he's dangerous. Also that he's full of shit, because there's no such thing as fortune telling. Natasha disagrees, a dark and knowing look in her eyes. She's not the superstitious type, but there's an intensity in her that says the situation isn't to be taken lightly. There's something of a betting pool on whether or not it's all a bunch of bullshit, but there's only one thing everyone seems to agree on; he hasn't left the tent since he's arrived. ]
in some universe that's a terrible pun
Their deal with the owner isn't lasting, but it suits their purposes for now. His living art might have made a pretty penny here if they'd pursued it rather than this rather specific affair. Yet, they made the trade every so often, changing the routine to offer one another some leeway, and truthfully, Steve prefers spending some of his time doing hard labor or offering help where it was needed rather than drawing his fingers numb six or seven nights out of the week. It felt much more honest, though he isn't entirely sure how long this particular venture will last given how slight the interest has been. Maybe he could stir some up if it continued. But too much, and they'd be back to where they'd been two companies ago, catastrophe and chaos and their names scratched from the bill. He's not dressed to perform either, isn't meant to be, but desperate times... ]
It's slow tonight. [ Which might have been typical for anyone else "new". Steve crosses his arms almost thoughtfully. ] Maybe I should redo the sign. [ It's a waste of talent if there's no one to use it on, and he doesn't know how many more times he should risk having his own future looked into. Besides, he prefers the ambiguity of living day-to-day; it keeps things interesting. ]
in some universe it's an amazing pun because all puns are good
As it stands, Bucky looks entirely too unconcerned by this whole thing. He sits sprawled out on one of the fainting couches so mysteriously, artfully, tackily placed on the far side of the main room, against a wall made of heavily draped cloth. His feet are propped up, boots dirtying the upholstery, reading a book in lighting so theatrically dim it's probably terrible for his eyesight. ]
The sign's perfect.
[ He dismisses boredly, turning the page. Doesn't bother looking up. There's almost a note of exasperation lingering in there if Steve cares to notice, because he's heard this bemoaned what feels like a thousand times. ]
They're going to come. Nobody wants to be the first.
[ There's a low sort of apathetic sing-song in his assertion, a monotone careless sureness that comes with what he does. There's a buzz surrounding the tent, but nobody wants to approach the new kid in school until someone else already has and then they flood in to get a good look up close and personal. Somewhere in the tent, a clock ticks a steady rhythm. In five minutes, the sun will sink beneath the horizon. in 432 ticks and tocks, it will start.
He can already feel the headache forming, and a frown tugs at his lips.
He looks up from the pages of his book. ]
Put your boots on.
in some universe ... nah
Steve doesn't follow the order immediately, instead cutting across the room at a slow pace to pluck the book from his fingers. He knows that tone, and he knows that look. Even if they come, he's going to have to watch how many stay. Calming the mood after a night like this isn't something he particularly enjoys. Sometimes. ]
Get yours off the couch. [ Which is then followed by a nudge so he can move his legs enough to sit with him. The space is small, but it's comforting in a way that not much else has been for a while. They have their skills, their oddities, but they also have each other. If nothing else, it's all Steve really wishes to have in life. ] Are you gonna need me here? I can stay...
[ It's not as if he has anywhere direly important to be.
Of course, their contract hinges on Steve doing the exact opposite, and it's mostly concern that spreads across his face as he eyes him and closes the book with a firm snap. He would be lost for hours behind the scenes of the show, well into the morning if it's the same as it always is with these things, and even if he slipped back here to check, it didn't guarantee anything. Steve holds the book in a way that his fingers can brush over the pages, worrying at them as he silently worries for the person beside him. ]
no subject
With just a touch of amusement in his eyes and across his brow, he does as he's told and twists to drop his feet from the couch to the floor. Texture-wise, there isn't much of a difference. Thick, musty faux-persian rugs line the whole thing wall to wall, so plushy and sound-absorbant his boots don't even thud when they lazily drop. He sighs, shifting his hips top make room beside him while still somehow managing to stay drooped into the cushions. His head lolls lazily to the side so he can survey his partner, only the tiniest upward twitch to the corner of his mouth. What can he say, the mother-henning is heartwarming.
Steve offers nearly every time, and nearly every time Bucky declines. He can handle himself, they both can, they both know it. And yet, this time... There's a familiar tugging in his gut, a cloudy vision that won't clarify, something vague and important, and this time, he decides, he's going to accept. ]
Not at first. Not for a while.
[ He says slowly, brow furrowing. ]
But later, maybe.
[ It could be nothing. It could be. His eyes flicker down toward Steve's bare feet again, then travel back up toward the book in his hands. He fidgets, plays with the pages, Bucky doesn't need to be a psychic to know worry when he sees it, and so he sits up with a breathy sigh, forcing some strength into his posture. He lifts a hand, covers the one Steve's using to clasp his book, and squeezes a gentle reassurance. ]
It's gonna be fine, just come back around ten, okay? If you stick around you're gonna scare 'em off, and besides, somebody's gotta make friendly with the new neighbors.
no subject
If Steve's preoccupied with drawing, with dragging some mimic of life from a page for just a moment or two, he isn't preoccupied with listening to the gossip and knocking it down a peg or ten before it really gets going. He might do that later if he thinks it's worth the effort, but generally, as another rule, there are only a handful of them at the very beginning. Curiosity, mostly. He can live with that as much as he lives with most other things that Bucky does - as if it would be anything but - and that's as fine as it's ever going to be. They watch out for each other like they have since they were boys, but it's always complicated when one of them steps knee-deep into trouble. Apparently, that's the sort of night it's going to be, especially when he accepts, when he tells him when to come around again, and Steve's surprise isn't at all masked as he angles his head to look at him better.
He's not an actor, which is probably why his own strengths don't lie in the theatrics of selling something so "whimsical" as fortunes. It's difficult not to wear his emotions on his sleeve, trying to turn over what little there is in Bucky's words and pinpoint the exact problem before it arises. That's something he's better at, figuring out a plan to tackle whatever it is that threatens to barrel them over, but he can't pick up anything except the laziness of his expression and the warmth of his hand over his. Steve turns his fingers over to catch Bucky's, always more than willing to keep him guessing. ]
You'd win 'em over yourself if you didn't do what you're doing right now. [ Steve's own smile is wan, but he makes an effort to appear nonplussed about the situation. The air of mystery can only get a person so far, but really, he doesn't mind being the go-between. That, and he'd caught a few of the acts before, which makes it easier finding something to discuss that isn't all about being new. ] Think we'll get to stay here a while this time?
[ There's no arguing what time he'll be back. Ten, and not a second later. He tries not to think about asking why, instead setting the book aside so he can pull away and retrieve his boots, but he doesn't move once the book is gone, feeling the words thick in his mouth. What if it ends up like the last one? There's no need to say it when the thought is just as loud as any word could be. Or that he's gripping Bucky's hand a lot tighter now. It's the worst part about leaving him on his own. ]
no subject
Or maybe he's just a shitty psychic with indigestion and a migraine. That's been the case a time or two as well, he can't even deny it. Sometimes he wishes he had what Steve has, the control he has, the ability to pick up or put down a pencil, to draw exactly what he wants when he wants with no real questions about it. Steve's gift comes with its own demons and drawbacks, he knows, and he shouldn't make light of it, but there's a small fire of jealousy that burns in him over it from time to time.
At the question, a low rumble comes, barely audible, from the back of Bucky's throat. It's a thoughtful noise of consideration, and try as he might, he can't summon up a clear answer. Not on the fly, anyway, and he's not sure if he wants to take the time and effort into looking that far ahead for a question that vague. It's a lot of effort, a lot of variables, but more importantly, it's life and if he knows it before he lives it, sometimes it doesn't feel like there's a point.
He has a good feeling, though. Not a psychic feeling, just a plain old human optimism. ]
I think so.
[ He decides finally with a slow nod. ]
Guess we'll find out.
[ The sun has set, he knows. Ninety more ticks and tocks. ]
Put your damn boots on, would ya?
[ He asks again, rising to his feet, hand still holding Steve's. He uses it to tug, to pull the other man up with him. It's almost showtime. ]
no subject
[ It's a quiet, almost thoughtful response that doesn't actually require more than simple acknowledgement. Steve would never ask Bucky to look into the future that way, and even if he could, he knows it doesn't work exactly as he wants it to. Maybe there are instances that are a lot clearer for him, as there are when he's got a very specific scene in his head, but looking at people to depict the echo of their heart is certainly far more different than looking at people to determine their destiny. The balance is a peculiar one that requires much more than he will ever know of what it is Bucky does when he's not inside the tent with him, when he sees those strangers and answers their questions, and it's the knowledge that it's more than he should ever know that drags him from his seat on that old couch.
He doesn't want to let go quite yet, wants to stay connected to him a little longer, but Steve knows he's right. It's almost time. ]
A few hours, and I'm just gonna have them off again. Maybe I'll see if there's an opening with the acrobats. [ There's a grin as if to say he wouldn't have to wear shoes at all if he did that, but he gives Bucky's hand a final squeeze before pulling away to retrieve his boots and pull them on. ] If you need me before ten, you know where I'm at.
[ He turns to face him. For some reason, it's like their first show all over again, and Steve can't shake the feeling no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much he trusts Bucky's judgment. It's his own intuition yanking at his gut, but if they're going to stay a while, if they're going to try to make it work here, then there shouldn't be anything to overly worry about. All he has to do is focus on his work, be friendly to their neighbors, and not start any fights. It shouldn't be that hard. ]
no subject
As Steve passes through the doorway, he's immediately slammed into by a tall, portly gentleman carrying the weight of perhaps a small elephant or large donkey. A heavy, steel-toed boot slams down on Steve's own, trodding on his toes unforgivingly, and the portly man grunts an indignant noise. ]
Watch it, pal!
[ He snaps, a southern husky smoker if there ever was one. He shoulders past unhappily, heaving himself forward rudely and without apology.
First customer of the day. His head aches. The curtain closes behind Steve, rendering Bucky's conversation inaudible.
Beyond their den of privacy, the outside world is still vaguely lit with the last few rays of sunlight as disappears beyond the curve of the world. Blues and purples cover the skies, adding a fittingly subdued mystique the backdrop. The first early guests meander around the park, children, couples, adults. The performers are decorated and in full-force, doing what they love and earning their buck. A few of them shoot keenly interested glances at Steve as he emerges from the tent, the first to leave since they've arrived, and decidedly not the fortune teller himself given the plainness of his clothes and, of course, the fact that he's exiting the workplace.
There's a steady flow of traffic that seems to be heading in one singular direction; the big top, the main tent where the real show begins in an hour. The good seats will be taken soon, the cheap seats soon after, because for all of his drunken faults, the ringmaster Stark puts on a hell of a show. Tents like Bucky's, the bearded lady's, they're just side attractions for before and after, certainly not the Main Story and not the most curious oddity in the crew. Various other touristy tents fill the wide field they've taken up residence in, and an entire section of carnival food carts create something of a cul-de-sac at the back of the lot.
As temporary homes go, it isn't a bad set-up. Despite his rocky start with this skeptical bible-thumper as his first customer, Bucky really does have a good feeling about this place. ]
Allison Argent | TW | OTA
Dean Winchester → Supernatural
i know ur already aware i have no chill but just in case hey guess what (i have no chill)
the ice garden
( she was the one who alerted them to the circus, which is pretty much the reason why she's able to weasel her way into tagging along with the winchesters when they decide to see for themselves what this whole deal is about. sam is off trying to find someone to question, and charlie is doing her damndest to stay cool and collected in the face of...whatever this place is, but it's hard.
still, she's trying to be a "hunter" now, so it's all serious expressions and repressed grins -- until she sees one particular tent and dean will suddenly find himself being rather bodily dragged by his five foot four companion. apparently charlie is strong when she's excited, or maybe dean just isn't putting up that much of a fight, but either way it doesn't take all that long before they're in there. )
Dude, it's like Christmas. ( there's no stoicism now, charlie is grinning from ear to ear as she knocks a handful of snow off the nearest branch. ) You know that's how I knew it was going to be a good year, if we got a white Christmas?
( she pauses for effect, and then promptly rolls her eyes: )
Come on, you can admit this is cool. Weird, but cool, right? I won't tell Sam.
no subject
He's gotta admit, though, there's something Cirque De Unsettling about this clown factory. It's all a little too Labyrinth and not enough Barnum and Bailey's, and Dean's got his money on witches or something. So far it's been tourist friendly, so he lets himself be pulled around by Hunter McJuniormeal with a grumpy but not wholly unpleasant air. As far as hunts go, they've had more dangerous and more boring.
...But they sure as hell haven't had Ice Tents before. What the--
There's no denying he's caught off guard at first, incredulous and skeptical from the moment they walk in the tent, heels planted firmly by the door while he decides whether or not he's opting out. Either they've got some scientifically revolutionary air conditioning in this tent, or there's something decidedly unhuman going on. ]
It's July.
[ He responds, disgust lacing word. ]
I swear to god, they try and foist it off earlier and earlier every year. First it's trees in the Halloween sections, now this? You gotta be friggin' kidding me.
[ ...but yeah, okay, it's pretty cool. Cold, even. He reaches out to touch a branch, just to make sure it's actual ice and not just some clear plastic bogusness. It's cold, wet, as ice as ice can be, and it's bizarre. ]
Garazeb Orrelios | Star Wars Rebels | ota
The Dragonborn | Skyrim | OTA
Armand | The Vampire Chronicles | OTA
Jyushimatsu Matsuno | Osomatsu-san | ota
Mavros Shahrizai | Kushiel's Legacy | M/M
Alcuin no Delaunay ; Kushiel's Dart ; M/M
Rupert of Hentzau | Prisoner of Zenda | M/M
Po | Graceling Series