imaginary circus

Writer, fangirl, bon vivant. My interests are all over the map. I love good stories however they come packaged.


Liker of coffee and words. Occasionally cranky. tumblr elderly. I apologize in advance for my tags.

"Lydia, what is that?" He pointed at the man in the chintzy looking cop uniform.
"You mean is that Lizzie’s birthday stripper?" Lydia waggled her eyebrows.
Darcy blocked the man from entering the private room at the back of the restaurant. “There’s been a mistake. I’m sorry, but I cannot permit you to enter this room.”
The man planted his hands on his hips. Darcy was pretty sure he could see the seam where the man’s pants were held together with velcro.”Sir, I’m responding to an emergency call. You need to let me pass.”
[[MORE]]
They were about the same height. Darcy stood up straighter, but it didn’t make any difference. The stripper was not at all intimidated and his gun was so obviously fake. Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will give you $500 to leave.” 
"Are you trying to bribe an officer of the law?" The cop shifted his weight to one leg and rested his hand on his baton.
Lydia tugged at his sleeve. “Darcy, wait—”
Darcy shushed her. He’d be having a stern word with her later.
"But you don’t—"
He shushed her again. She shrugged and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed and polite look of interest on her face.
Darcy turned back to the officer who had the gall to look impatient. “I admire your commitment to your er, craft, but my little sister, my disagreeable aunt, and my voluble future mother-in-law are in that room. So I apologize… what is your name?”
"Officer Martini."
"I suppose it could be worse. I expected some kind of sexual innuendo." Darcy was about to reach for his wallet when Lydia latched onto his arm hard.
"Officer, please allow me to apologize. Old Darce here has been taking antibiotics and we let him have one teensy glass of wine. And…" She shook her head and mouthed crazy. 
“Martini, what’s your location?”
That’s when Darcy noticed the radio on the cop’s belt and the badge that read San Francisco Police Department. Come to think of it the gun did possess a certain veracity.
"Oh, good Lord. You’re a policeman." He flattened himself against the wall.  He’d never even received a speeding ticket. He could imagine the headline: "LOCAL CEO ARRESTED FOR ATTEMPTED BRIBERY OF AN SF PATROL OFFICER HE THOUGHT WAS A STRIPPER." 
"You might want to consider putting him in a cab," Officer Martini said to Lydia before passing into the party.
His Aunt Catherine shrieked. Anniekins was missing. Darcy would probably have to pay the police department for nonsensical emergencies, but at least he wasn’t being arrested.
"Lydia, why on earth did you lead me to believe that that police officer was a stripper?" Really, had the girl no common sense?
"Oh my God. I was teasing you. And I did try to stop you. Twice."
"I suppose you did," he said. Except for Lizzie, not that many people teased him. Lizzie and her father and Lydia.
"This is going to make a great toast at your wedding." Lydia bounced on the balls of her toes.
"Can we pretend this never happened?" His extremities were cold and clammy.
"Darce. Because you’re having a terrible night I will offer you my silence for the low, low price of—"
"I’ll give you $500."
"—a drink." She smirked. "You really suck at reading people."
  “Yes.” He could use a drink himself, but he’d have to wait until Officer Martini left.
"You know, I can help you with that." Lydia tugged him into the party and they spent the next forty-five minutes examining body language and discussing it.
Anniekins was discovered asleep in Charlotte’s purse. The policeman left, but not without giving Darcy the once over. And when Thomas Bennet tried to corner him to converse about model trains, Darcy was able to excuse himself before it was too late. Thanks to Lydia.
"Are you having a good time?" He found Lizzie chatting with Anne Eliott, who excused herself.
"Decent enough," Lizzie said and raised one supercilious eyebrow. He laughed. Maybe he’d even tell Lizzie what had happened in the hallway earlier. Lydia walked by with GiGi and she winked. Maybe he’d leave it a secret between Lydia and himself. He knew secrets of hers. It was only fair.

"Lydia, what is that?" He pointed at the man in the chintzy looking cop uniform.

"You mean is that Lizzie’s birthday stripper?" Lydia waggled her eyebrows.

Darcy blocked the man from entering the private room at the back of the restaurant. “There’s been a mistake. I’m sorry, but I cannot permit you to enter this room.”

The man planted his hands on his hips. Darcy was pretty sure he could see the seam where the man’s pants were held together with velcro.”Sir, I’m responding to an emergency call. You need to let me pass.”

Read More

Wow. A lot of things arrived today!!

Because seriously nothing could be as fraught as the great laundry debacle of late 2013. They’d both learned some hard lessons about communication and self-sufficiency. Darcy wasn’t used to doing his own laundry, but his stack of pale pink undershirts was a reminder to read care labels and sort whites from colors.
They kept the cut up shards of one of Darcy’s credit cards in a glass on a bookshelf. She cringed a little less each time she remembered her complete melt down. Darcy, furious about his pink undershirts, swore he was going straight to Brooks Brothers to buy twenty new ones. Before he could snap up his wallet, she’d grabbed it, taken out his AMEX card and snipped it into little pieces. Shouting incoherently, “You can’t… money… everything.”
There’d been a moment of indecision, a moment when everything could have disintegrated. They’d stood on opposite sides of the kitchen table with clenched jaws. Lizzie still brandished the scissors.  Darcy had snorted. He’d covered his mouth, but couldn’t keep it in. She’d never seen him lose it so utterly and completely. He later admitted he’d never laughed so hard in his entire life.

Because seriously nothing could be as fraught as the great laundry debacle of late 2013. They’d both learned some hard lessons about communication and self-sufficiency. Darcy wasn’t used to doing his own laundry, but his stack of pale pink undershirts was a reminder to read care labels and sort whites from colors.

They kept the cut up shards of one of Darcy’s credit cards in a glass on a bookshelf. She cringed a little less each time she remembered her complete melt down. Darcy, furious about his pink undershirts, swore he was going straight to Brooks Brothers to buy twenty new ones. Before he could snap up his wallet, she’d grabbed it, taken out his AMEX card and snipped it into little pieces. Shouting incoherently, “You can’t… money… everything.”

There’d been a moment of indecision, a moment when everything could have disintegrated. They’d stood on opposite sides of the kitchen table with clenched jaws. Lizzie still brandished the scissors.  Darcy had snorted. He’d covered his mouth, but couldn’t keep it in. She’d never seen him lose it so utterly and completely. He later admitted he’d never laughed so hard in his entire life.

She had three days to pull of multiple miracles. It was snowing again. She’d started wearing a lot of gray because road salt didn’t show as much against it. She took a sip of tea. Gross. It wasn’t supposed to be cold or strong enough to strip paint.
She heard footsteps behind her and said, “If Juan wants me to do this any faster tell him to buy me roller skates.”
"You’re not answering your phone." Bing slipped his arms around her from behind and she leaned back. Sleeping while standing suddenly seemed like a good idea. "And your hands are ice cubes."
She turned and before she could kiss him, he slipped her hands under his shirt, against his bare abdomen to warm them.
"I figured you’ve eaten two crackers and looked at a piece of fruit today," he said and nodded at a bag on the table. "And I figured you could use an extra pair of hands."
"You’re going to help me hand stitch beads?" Jane opened the bag and started picking olives out of a salad with her fingers and eating them.
"Sure." He held up steady hands. "My professors told me I could have been a surgeon."
"You don’t have to," she said.
"That’s not why I offered." He guided her into a chair and opened all the containers. She smiled and he tapped her chin. "That’s why I offered." 

She had three days to pull of multiple miracles. It was snowing again. She’d started wearing a lot of gray because road salt didn’t show as much against it. She took a sip of tea. Gross. It wasn’t supposed to be cold or strong enough to strip paint.

She heard footsteps behind her and said, “If Juan wants me to do this any faster tell him to buy me roller skates.”

"You’re not answering your phone." Bing slipped his arms around her from behind and she leaned back. Sleeping while standing suddenly seemed like a good idea. "And your hands are ice cubes."

She turned and before she could kiss him, he slipped her hands under his shirt, against his bare abdomen to warm them.

"I figured you’ve eaten two crackers and looked at a piece of fruit today," he said and nodded at a bag on the table. "And I figured you could use an extra pair of hands."

"You’re going to help me hand stitch beads?" Jane opened the bag and started picking olives out of a salad with her fingers and eating them.

"Sure." He held up steady hands. "My professors told me I could have been a surgeon."

"You don’t have to," she said.

"That’s not why I offered." He guided her into a chair and opened all the containers. She smiled and he tapped her chin. "That’s why I offered." 

It had sharp edges, which meant it was new. In the grand scheme of things the pebble in her hand hadn’t been tumbled and worn down. But then again, maybe it had. Maybe it had once been part of a larger, weathered rock. Rocks did not miss what they were once part of. She tossed the rock to the side of the path. There were more of them. No need to hang on to that one.

It had sharp edges, which meant it was new. In the grand scheme of things the pebble in her hand hadn’t been tumbled and worn down. But then again, maybe it had. Maybe it had once been part of a larger, weathered rock. Rocks did not miss what they were once part of. She tossed the rock to the side of the path. There were more of them. No need to hang on to that one.

I have to pause in this editing every few minutes while the files do stuff. Let’s write drabbles. You give me a first sentence. Any fandom you think I know. Or give me one I don’t and I will make up the rest?

pinstripesuit:

stars-collected:

kaible:

feitclub:

"Hey, how do you spell Massachusetts?"
"How should I know? Just grab a handful of Scrabble tiles and let fate decide."

this is like a beautiful unicorn of mispellings

bluestalking-fox and thewolfyears need this

goddammit

It’s my favorite of the 11 states of AEMBRICA

pinstripesuit:

stars-collected:

kaible:

feitclub:

"Hey, how do you spell Massachusetts?"

"How should I know? Just grab a handful of Scrabble tiles and let fate decide."

this is like a beautiful unicorn of mispellings

bluestalking-fox and thewolfyears need this

goddammit

It’s my favorite of the 11 states of AEMBRICA

(via effableobject)

aeternamente:

WAITIN’ FOR THE BUS IN THE RAIN IN THE RAIN WAIT-WAITIN’ FOR THE BUS IN THE RAIN.

"I forgot about normal rain." He’s talking to the night air, or the sky more than to her. He waves his hand vaguely. "You know. From the sky."

"Long day," she says. Almost everyone else has already taken the shuttle back to the hotel. They’re standing on the edge of a field in the dark. Her feet are killing her. She shifts. There’s no where to sit except scraggly grass and mud.

Read More

I AM helping you.

I didn't know you were over here! HI! I still have your painting of Ginny and Bill having a blinking contest on my wall. <3
imaginarycircus imaginarycircus Said:

glockgal:

I AM HERE! AND SO ARE YOU! OMG.  Ahhhhhhhh no waaaaay omg I am flaily.  That art is so old and we are so old school. <333333

Billy and Ginny Weasley - blinking contest. By Glockgal.

I recently went looking for Bunnysuit Draco. I think he must be on an old hard drive. I CANNOT LOSE HIM.

classic-alice:

Kate seriously talks about EVERYTHING. From books to Equine Dell Arte and more.

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They are 12 hours and $125 away from their goal!! I really want to see them succeed!!

I met K over at Bergamot. We love the bartender! Paul is the best. We started talking about the new French rosés they had in. And he said why don’t I pour a few and you can decide which one you like. So we did. The Gigondas on the far right there worked for me. DELICIOUS. He poured me a glass. A little bit later he came back and poured K a glass and refilled mine and left the bottle. A little later he emptied the bottle into our glasses. So I gave him like a 30% tip. I’m not sure how much wine I drank, but it was delicious. I was tipsier than expected from drinking one glass. Because I drank at least two. I ate half a lobster melt because I can’t finish one. It’s sliced brioche, a bechamel cheese sauce, scallions, and lobster.They give you a few lettuce leaves to make your guts feel like they have some reason to exist.

I just remember the creepy dream I was having in the middle of the night. There was a girl with her arms on backwards. Like she picked up another kid, but she had the kid craddled against her back with her arms bent that way. She also scuttled super fast like a spider. She came at me and I tried to hit her with a metal rod, but it bent like a pool noodle. It was bright orange. Then the cat woke me up and I had to pee. And thankfully I forgot the rest of it because it was unpleasant and extremely complicated.

I randomly chose a winner for the Edward Gorey 5000th post giveaway thing. I’ll be sending a package to hidinginthesleevesofmycoat. YAY!

One of my oldest friends took this quiz and scored an 81 (out of 100) and said I would probably beat her so she wasn’t embarrassed. I think I accurately scored maybe a 62. She told me to retake it as my angry 20 year old self. I think the highest I can get is 76 and that’s a stretch. She’s really mad.