#carwheelerweek

[kage-e]

@carwheelerweek - Day 5: “Off to a world we call our own”

When young writer Phillip Carlyle first learns that there is talk of his book getting a movie adaption, he can’t quite believe it. Especially when he hears that it’s not even going to be a small independent movie like one would expect, no, apparently the Hollywood famous actress Anne Wheeler of all people is the one pitching the idea to various big studios and directors. 

He’s sure the rumors must be exaggerated until he finds her mail in his inbox, sitting there unnoticed by him for several weeks since he rarely checks any of his social media accounts - to the complete dismay of his editor. By the time he gets back to her, Anne already has a director and a couple of other well-known actors on her list of people who’d be willing to join the movie.

When Phillip first meets Anne after a week of email exchanges and further talks about the movie, he’s all nerves for more than one reason. Despite being unsure about how well his book would adapt to the big screen, Anne’s sheer passion for this project makes him feel excited about the idea of meeting with a studio that has shown actual interest in the movie. 

But truth be told, it’s meeting the actress herself that has Phillip feeling flustered. Anne truly is a force to be reckoned with. He watches in total awe as she presents the project to the heads of the studio, clear visions in mind who she’d like to work with for it and a confidence in her idea that seems to spread through the entire conference room.

As soon as they get the green light, they start working on the movie. In the months that follow, Phillip rarely leaves the film set at all. It still seems like a dream to him that the words he’s written have inspired this many people to make an actual movie out of it. Everyone works relentlessly, staying long hours, reshooting scenes over and over again until they are perfect.

It’s once shooting is done that Phillip realizes he won’t get to spend almost all of his days in the company of Anne any longer. He’d gotten so used to spending his time in between takes with her, he never stopped to think what it would be like when they were finished with the movie.

Luckily, all their hard work pays off and the movie is a huge success, which leads to a lot of interviews and a press tour. The chemistry between them doesn’t go unnoticed by the interviewers or anyone else watching them but Phillip and Anne are quick to deny any rumors.

After all, there really isn’t anything going on, even if Phillip wouldn’t mind if things changed between them. But it seems highly improbable that Anne has developed feelings beyond friendship for him.

Or at least that’s what Phillip thinks until the premiere day of their movie. When he checks his ringing phone early in the morning, it’s Anne. Bluntly as ever, she asks him to pick her up by 6 and wear a red tie to go with her dress. Phillip, of course, turns into a spluttering, confused mess until Anne simply replies: “Well, it didn’t look like you were going to ask me on a date, so I’m taking matters into my own hands, Carlyle.” 

[carwheelerweek]

One week! This is your final reminder that Carwheeler Appreciation Week runs from December 14th to December 20th, 2018.

Daily Themes and Prompts:

Day 1) “All I want is to fall with you” | Falling in love/Pre-relationship Day 2) “But I can’t have you” | Not everything works out/Angst Day 3) “However big, however small, let me be part of it all” | Domestic life/Fluff Day 4) “You know I want you” | Intimate moments/Smut Day 5) “Off to a world we call our own” | Carwheeler in another life/AUs Day 6) “Everything you need” | Happily ever after/Post-canon Day 7) “This is the greatest show” | Free day/Ensemble

Prompts can be mix and match, however inspiration strikes. We are tracking the #carwheelerweek tag or @ this account so we can see all of your creations!

If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask!

[antivanruffles]

letters from the sky

written for @carwheelerweek day 7: Ensemble/Free Day. SFW. Canon divergence. 

It was clear nothing was ever going to change. At least not for the better. Not with the circus in a new location; a fresh start that afforded them all so much more freedom. Not even with the longing looks and heartbreak written in their eyes. Lettie couldn’t take it anymore. She cared about them, they were her friends -- her family -- and they were hurting. She wanted to fix it.

She knew wasn’t the only one.

Her first conspirators were Caroline and Helen. It was easy enough to get information from them, and easier still for them to gather it. The little spies that they were. Unfortunately, no matter how hard they tried certain facts still eluded them. Important ones.

Once the girls were on board, Lettie found herself talking with other women in the troupe: Mary and Florence, Nea, even Deng Yan -- which had surprised Lettie -- were all keen on the idea of doing something for the pair. Eventually Constantine and Charles joined the group as well. Although Lettie kept the word quiet around W.D. She wasn’t entirely sure he would be on their side.

The next course of action was to figure out a plan. The group met in secret, near the animal enclosures in hopes they wouldn’t be too conspicuous while they talked. The last thing they needed was to be overheard.

“All right, so what’s our plan?”

“Can’t we just talk to them?” Helen asked.

“They wouldn’t listen, sweetheart, they’re too stubborn,” Charles said gently with a shake of his head.

“But they’re meant for each other. Aren’t they?” Helen frowned.

“Sometimes it isn’t as easy as in stories. That’s why we’re here,” Lettie said and gave Helen a reassuring smile.

“So the direct approach isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Charles said.

Lettie frowned. “No, it’s not.”

“Would you like my opinion?”

They all turned as one to find W.D. standing behind them, arms crossed and head tilted to the side. He raised an eyebrow at them. As far as Lettie could tell he didn’t seem angry, which was something. She decided to take it as a good sign.

“How’d you find us?” she asked.

“None of y’all are half as subtle as you think you are.” He smiled and dropped his arms.

“Are you going to tell on us?” Helen asked, peeking around Lettie.

“No, Helen. I think… I think I actually agree with you?” He stepped in closer to the group, let the Barnum girls flank him on either side. “Charles is right, my sister is stubborn. As a mule. There’s also a lot more than you know.”

“So what happened?” Lettie asked. Once upon a time Anne had confided in Lettie. Now she was withdrawn, sad. Things had changed the night Phillip took her to the theater, only none of them could figure out what exactly had happened.

“It’s complicated, which you probably guessed already. Anne made a choice, and she thinks it’s the right one. But I don’t, not anymore. Not when she’s hurting like she is.”

“Do you have a plan?”

W.D. was quiet for a moment, eyes focused on his feet. “I have something… I don’t know if it’s the best way, but it’s all I got.” He lifted his head, started looking around at the group. “Anne is stubborn, we know. She’s also competitive. And right now, even after everything, Phillip is still a sure bet. I think he always will be. But if we made her think he wasn’t, that his feelings could change. She might come to her senses.”

“So we make her think there’s some competition for his affection?” Charles pondered that, shared a look with the twins. Both nodded. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“We can’t just throw a girl in his path, that would never work,” Deng Yan said. “It needs to be subtle.”

“Subtle says the woman who throws knives for a living.”

“You know what I mean, Nea.”

“Love letters.” Everyone turned to look at Constantine as if he had grown a second head. He shrugged. “Like a secret admirer. It’s romantic, it’s subtle. It’s anonymous. Besides, even if his feelings won’t change, Phillip would still be embarrassed. Even flattered. Anne would notice.”

It sounded as good as anything Lettie had thought up. Glancing around at everyone else, it seemed they all agreed. Regardless, it was their best shot.

Lettie clapped her hands together and grinned. “All right everyone, I think we have ourselves a plan!”

cont. reading on AO3

[kage-e]

@carwheelerweek - Day 4: “You know I want you”

[antivanruffles]

in the moments between us

written for @carwheelerweek day 4: intimate moments. rated T for suggestive themes, pining, and kissing. a 5+1 because I love those.

1)

It was a rarity to find Anne on her own. Usually life in the circus meant there was little time alone. So many people crowded together in the building, always chatting. It was a nice change from what Phillip had been used to, and being able to see the camaraderie amongst them, the friendship that seemed to come so easily to everyone was heartening.

Anne especially often seemed to be the center of attention. If she wasn't with a gaggle of ladies from the troupe, she was with her brother or the Barnum girls. Sometimes a combination of all of the above. Phillip couldn't blame anyone, he only wished he could be so freely in her company as well. That was perhaps why it was so strange to find her alone when he arrived to the circus that morning. She was sat on the lip of the ring, knees pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around them and her head tilted back. She glanced at him the moment he stepped inside.

“Good morning, Mister Carlyle.”

“Good morning, Miss Wheeler.” Phillip doffed his hat, stepped over the lip and stopped several paces from her in the middle of the ring. “I'm not disturbing you, am I?”

She smiled at him -- a bright shining thing that made his heart stutter inside his chest -- before she lowered her head, eyes downcast.

“No,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “I like to come out here sometimes to think over routines. New tricks. It helps to see the space, makes it clearer in my mind.”

Phillip looked up then, stared at the trapeze bars hooked to the platform above. He thought of Anne flying through the air, always graceful and breathtakingly beautiful. He dropped his gaze back down to her, sitting in the middle of the empty room. Her long limbs folded inward, a little more awkward than graceful, and sans her vibrant costume and bright pink wig that made her seem otherworldly. But even in plain clothes with her curls shoved into a haphazard bun she was still just as breathtaking.

“What new tricks do you have planned?” he asked, hoping to stay in her company just a little while longer.

“A drop.” Anne clamored to her feet and joined him center ring. She stood close to him and excitedly explained her idea, pointing to the rafters with one hand while the other would occasionally brush the hem of his jacket.

What she described sounded dangerous, and he might have tried to dissuade her had he been able to find his voice. As it were he could only nod, and try not to stare too openly like the besotted fool he was. Phillip might have stayed there all day basking in her presence, and he had the oddest feeling she wouldn't have minded, had the rest of the troupe not started to file in and start their rehearsals. He and Anne broke apart, acted as if nothing had happened. Because truly, nothing had.

“I should get to work, I have paperwork to finish up.” He gestured toward the stairs with his hat in hand.

“Of course, Mister Carlyle. I'm sorry I kept you.” She dropped her gaze to the floor.

“No, you didn't. It was… I mean I enjoyed talking with you, Miss Wheeler. I always do,” he said softly. Shyly.

Her head snapped up, and she gave him another shining smile. “So do I,” she whispered.

Phillip wanted to say more, wanted to see more of her smiles. But then O'Malley was there with work questions and knowing glances between them so Phillip finally took his leave. All the while wishing he could stay.

cont. reading on AO3

[kage-e]

@carwheelerweek - Day 3: "However big, however small, let me be part of it all"

Phillip loves any day he gets to spend with Anne but his not-so-secret favorite season is winter.

He loves the way Anne‘s face lights up that first morning she finds the streets covered in snow. He loves the way her eyes sparkle with the reflection of the fairy lights all around the city. He loves their fun little dates outside.

But most of all, he loves going back to their cozy and warm apartment, spending hours in bed with Anne - just cuddling, talking and bingewatching their favorite tv shows that they can already quote word for word but still never get tired of.

[antivanruffles]

snow day

Written for @carwheelerweek day 2: "But I can’t have you” (Angst). Word count 686. SFW, canon compliant, pining. Also on AO3.

The snowfall is sudden. Accumulating in the night until several inches cover most of the city. In places it’s a picturesque sight, beautiful and charming. In others the roads turn to mud and slush, the magic lost in the reality of city life.

Luckily outside the circus it is more pretty than not, most everyone locked inside and the street leading to their building has been left mostly untouched. The sky is still overcast and the slate grey clouds are hanging low in the sky, heavy and fat. It seems it’s only a matter of time before more of the crystalline white powder is dumped on them.

Anne decides to step out for a short while, enjoying the way the air smells. Clean and crisp. She also enjoys how the snow crunches under her feet, and the way her boots sink up to her ankles with each step. And she isn’t the only one who enjoys it.

She can hear the delighted shrieking of the Barnum girls as they race through the winter wonderland. Before Anne can see them, she finds a snowman in her path. The coal-black eyes and carrot nose are not what draws her attention, but rather a familiar scarf and hat. Maroon, rich and warm, and finely made. Again she hears them before she sees them. This time not just Caroline and Helen squealing and laughing happily, but a deeper voice as well. Just as familiar and rich and warm.

Looking around the corner of the building, Anne does her best to remain hidden. Out of sight. The girls are in the middle of a snowball war with Phillip, and loose powdery snow flies through the air until it looks like a snow globe that has been shook up. The girls can barely catch their breath, they’re laughing so hard. Their cheeks and noses a bright rosy pink in the cold.

Anne can barely catch her own breath. It sticks in her throat, as if froze. Like everything else around her. He’s happy, his eyes light and his smile wide. His cheeks are pink as well, from laughter and cold. Flecks of white dapple his jacket and hair. He looks perfectly at ease, and it makes her ache.

Everything around Anne loses its enchantment in an instant. There is no magic in the air, no sparkle to the snow when the light hits it just right. Instead it is bleak and cold and dismal. Anne can feel it settling within her, right down to the very marrow of her bones. A pain that will not subside. It nearly chokes her, makes her heart constrict inside her chest. It almost burns. But not white hot like a flame, this is icy cold. Numbing.

She looks at Phillip, still oblivious to her presence. Still enjoying himself, just as carefree as the girls. Anne can only marvel at the warmth of his smile and the way it lights up his face. There is a fleeting, powerful urge to draw closer. A yearning need to walk -- no, to run -- toward him; to fling her arms around him and kiss him. To hold him close and let his warmth melt every frozen part of her.

But she won’t. She can’t.

Not when her own words come bubbling to the surface. A constant reminder of the choices she made. The choices she still makes. Anne looks at him now, untroubled. Unburdened. No, she can’t. So she turns to leave before she is forced to look into fathomless blue eyes. To see the joy morph into pain. To relive his heartbreak. And hers.

Quickly and silently she leaves before he sees her. Her limbs stiff and her heart heavy as if an anchor is holding it down. Still she longs to turn and run to him. To laugh and smile and feel his warmth.

She doesn’t. Because she knows she can’t have him. He’s not hers and he never would be. As she turns away from the warm and welcoming sight before her, slinking back to the circus to nurse her self-inflicted wounds, all she feels is cold.

[antivanruffles]

mistletoe memories pt 1

written for @carwheelerweek day 3: Fluff. SFW, canon compliant. Word count 1472. Also on AO3. 

The circus was normally rather chaotic. People coming and going, constantly practicing new routines and tricks in hopes of thrilling the crowds. Backstage was full of costume changes and mending and someone missing this prop or that. And that didn’t even include show nights when patrons would file in by the scores until it was standing room only.

However, this was a different kind of chaos.

The circus was done up in cheery reds and vivid greens, boughs of evergreens strung up everywhere. A tree had been brought in for the celebration, decked out in gold and silver with a plethora of gifts underneath. Tables had been brought out from backstage, covered in more food than Anne had ever seen in her life. Some of the troupe were playing music as wine and champagne flowed, everyone laughing and merry and bright.

Christmas in the circus was something new, but it was very easy to get used to. Anne watched as Caroline and Helen kept drifting back toward the gifts, trying to figure out which were theirs. With so many people it had only made sense everyone drew a single name for their gift exchange, keeping it anonymous added to the magic of it all.

Anne was busy taking it all in, enjoying the sight of everyone so happy and relaxed, when a newcomer arrived.

“Merry Christmas.” Anne looked to Phillip, his coat and hat still on, a dusting of snow on his shoulders.

“Merry Christmas,” she said and noticed a small box in his hand. He quickly hid it behind his back. “You’re late.”

“Or am I fashionably on time?”

“Is that how the upper crust does it?” she teased.

“It is when they miss the streetcar and have to walk all the way here.” He laughed lightly and removed his hat. Phillip quickly tucked his gloves and the small parcel inside, but not before Anne caught sight of a rich purple ribbon tied around it. She wondered who it was for.

“You should get something warm to drink. And eat. There’s so much food.” Anne pointed toward the tables, at the piles of treats.

“I see that.” He paused for a moment, taking in the sights. “This is a lot different than I was expecting.”

“I know, but it’s nice. Isn’t it?” She smiled at him, which he returned warmly.

“Yes, it is.”

They were interrupted when Caroline and Helen finally realized Phillip’s presence and practically pounced on him, dragging him off to show him something. Perhaps to get his help locating their gifts in the pile. He cast Anne an apologetic look before his attention was completely monopolized by the girls.

Anne giggled to herself, watching as he focused on the girls. She didn’t mean to spy, but she did keep a watchful eye on Phillip as he settled in amongst the troupe. And she did catch him when he placed two packages under the tree, one flat and square and likely a book, while the other was the small box with the purple ribbon.

The party progressed in much the same fashion it had started. Everyone loudly singing and dancing. When the temptation of presents grew too strong, Helen and Caroline got to play Santa Claus; carefully reading each tag on the various parcels and passing them out. Anne thought this was particularly fun.

It was wonderful to watch everyone unwrapping their gifts, delight and joy lighting their faces as if they were no older than the Barnum girls. The pile of gifts slowly dwindled as the pile of ribbons and bows and paper grew higher and higher. Anne noted that it was Helen who received the thin package Phillip had placed under the tree: a book of fairy tales he promised to read to her next time he visited.

That meant the other present must have been for Caroline. Although eventually she received a clutch of new hair ribbons in every shade of the rainbow. When every other gift had been opened, everyone admiring their spoils as the revelry continued, Anne noticed the box with the purple ribbon remained untouched. Helen also noticed.

“There’s one more!” She hurried forward with the giddy enthusiasm only a child can hold, and snatched it up. “Anne!” she cried. “It’s for you”

“But I already have my present.”

“Santa must’ve brought it!” Helen cried in delight, thrusting it into her hands.

Anne gently pulled on the ribbon, let it slither out of her grasp and over the box. Swallowing thickly she unfolded the flap and pulled out what was inside.

“Oh,” she breathed. It was a jewelry box. A very particular one, in fact. Anne had saw it in a store window some time ago. Made of enameled glass with handpainted flowers adoring the top and sides. It was delicate and extravagant and she had longed for it.

“Isn’t that...?” Lettie asked, sitting down next to Anne.

“Yes. It’s even more beautiful up close.”

“Who’s it from? W.D?” Lettie reached out and traced a gentle finger over the lid.

“Not me.” W.D. leaned between them to inspect it.

“It’s from Santa!” Helen said again, rocking onto her toes.

“Yes, Santa.” Anne flashed her a quick smile before letting her gaze drift over to Phillip. He seemed very busy in examining the contents of his cup, a little too nonchalant.

After a round of guesses as to who it might be from, Lettie started clearing the others away to return to the festivities. Anne took that moment to find Phillip.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“For what?” He attempted to look innocent, but Anne knew better.

“I saw the package, the purple ribbon, when you arrived. Thank you. I love it.”

He flushed immediately, the tips of his ears going pink. “I heard you telling Lettie about it, and you sounded so… I could tell you really wanted it. I know it isn’t exactly a proper gift to give, that’s why I waited until now. When it would be anonymous. Or so I thought.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” she said with a smile. “It was still very kind of you, and I appreciate it very much.” Anne felt her own face grow hot, which only grew hotter when they were converged upon by several of the troupe and their good-natured jeering.

Anne could see Phillip in the corner of her eye, could see him tilt his head back and look up. He tensed and Anne looked up as well. Floating above them, suspended by a piece of string currently attached to Vasily’s hand, was a clutch of mistletoe. They both tore their gazes away and their eyes locked. Anne shrugged, just the barest of movement, and nodded her permission.

Phillip hesitated, his face even redder now. Anne could scarcely breathe, and it felt as if her heart might beat out of her chest. Phillip leaned forward slowly, cautiously, and placed his lips at the corner of her mouth. Anne briefly let her eyes drift shut at the contact. There was a part of her that wanted to turn her head, to lay her lips fully against his, no matter how scandalous it was.

With everyone happily cheering for the spectacle, Phillip pulled back and reached up to pluck the single white berry that was left.

“It seems the mistletoe has lost its magic.” He swallowed thickly, held the berry in the palm of his hand between them as everyone started to disperse, the game now over. “Sorry,” Phillip whispered once they were alone.

“You didn’t do anything that you need to apologize for.”

He was clearly still embarrassed, over the kiss, over the gift. His fingers closed around the berry and he dropped his fist to his side, examining his shoes thoroughly. Maybe it was too much wine that made her do what she did next, or maybe it was the time of year. Or maybe it was just because she wanted to.

“Phillip?” she said.

His head shot up at his name, his first name. It was informal and not how she would normally address him, but it didn’t matter. She liked it, and yearned to say it again.

“Thank you again, for the jewelry box.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Anne spoke again.

“And I don’t think it lost all its magic.”

Before he could question her, Anne reached up and gently laid her fingers on his jaw. Then she pressed a lingering kiss to his opposite cheek. When she pulled back, letting her fingers fall from his face, she met his gaze squarely.

“Merry Christmas, Phillip,” she said.

“Merry Christmas, Anne.”

As she turned to join Lettie and the others, Anne realized there was one thing better than saying his name. And that was hearing him say hers.