#nettyfawn

[danidelione-blog]

💚

It wasn’t the first time - he’d lost count - and it wasn’t likely to be the last. With a nod to Carmine, the slender stagegirl who’d nipped forward to hold the door, Dani stepped through to little Mam’selle Michaeux’s room. The Green Fairy herself was in his arms. Dozing, fitfully, wrapped in his coat. Drunk as a skunk. Gin; could smell it. Not the worst he’d seen her. Which was a relief, really. When Carmine darted to his table at the Moulin, fluttering in her layers of scarlet tulle and sequins, face pale under the rouge, mouth set in a tight line, he hadn’t known what, exactly, to expect. Besides bad news. About Netty. And it had been. Too drunk, led away all the same by a john who just... seemed off.

And now, it was that fucking chazer’s nose that was off, off center, smeared across his face by the back of Dani’s hand. He’d scrambled out, after emptying his pockets. Netty’s time was going to get paid for fairly, even if she wasn’t being treated that way. 

Carmine had closed the door up behind them, ushering the other dancers away, no doubt. Laying Annette on her tousled sheets, Dani more or less gave up on getting his coat back. That’d be alright. He could always collect it some other time; wasn’t like he didn’t have more. Folding up the francs he’d shook out of that bastard, he tucked them under a tortoiseshell brush, something she’d use soon enough. Just didn’t want anyone sneaking in here to rip Netty off while she was this out of it. Dani latched the window, pulled the covers over her bare shoulders. A summer chill could sap somebody same as any other kind. Even someone so young. She was very nearly a child; a few years older than his boys would have been, he’d guess. Just a few. Netty murmured, faintly, reaching for... for whatever you reach for, in dreams. 

He’d always wondered what Samuel and Jacob had dreamed after. How those dreams might’ve changed, as they grew. Dani swallowed, tightly, shook his head. Maybe he’d had too much to drink, himself. Must be it, the brandy, that pulled him down, brushed her bleached-blonde hair aside, and left a soft sort of kiss on her temple. The kind he might’ve put his own children to bed with. If he’d ever got the chance. 

[charlotte-leigh]

CHETTY 🔫

who hogs the duvet: charlotte, but they realized this early enough in their relationship that they now just use two blankets.who texts/rings to check how their day is going: both of them, they’re constantly texting each other through the day. who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts: annette! i feel like she is so thoughtful and always picks something that is just exactly right. who gets up first in the morning: annette! who suggests new things in bed: lbr... both of them. they’re so unsatisfied by men that they aren’t afraid to speak up with each other. who cries at movies: both again! who gives unprompted massages: neither, because one or the other of them is always whining about their sore muscles from dancing, so massages are always fully prompted. who fusses over the other when they’re sick: charlotte! she’s hell bent on taking care of netty like a little sister as is, and knowing she doesn’t feel well kicks her mom instincts into overdrive. who gets jealous easiest: i don’t think either of them get jealous as much as they get protective over each other. charlotte loves bhari to death but she would kill him if he hurt annette.  who has the most embarrassing taste in music: probably charlotte. modern verse she probably listens to lana del rey and arctic monkeys and thinks she’s so deep. who collects something unusual: both of them collect those extravagant ass costumes. who takes the longest to get ready: charlotte, unless it’s hair bleaching day for annette. it’s one of the few things they argue about. who is the most tidy and organised: annette!who gets most excited about the holidays: neither of them get particularly wound up about them, and on most holidays they stay in and order takeout and watch movies or lay around on the balcony and listen to music. who is the big spoon/little spoon: they switch! we love vers queens. who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports: annette! charlotte has seen her fight other dancers before. who starts the most arguments: they very rarely argue, but when they do annette typically calls charlotte out for doing something stupid. who suggests that they buy a pet: neither of them. where would it possibly stay!what couple traditions they have: taking bubble baths together after long rehearsals, getting dressed in each others’ dressing rooms before shows even though they each have their own, going together to visit zahra for fittings, going to bed together late at night. what tv shows they watch together: long tv series’ that they can binge together, but nothing too serious. crazy stuff like pretty little liars, the vampire diaries, gossip girl, etc. what other couple they hang out with: bhari and gabehow they spend time together as a couple: being generally lovey dovey, playing dress up in each other’s costumes, gossiping  who made the first move: charlottewho brings flowers home: annettewho is the best cook: charlotte

[bharisinclair]

Bhetty circus au

3 Sentences (as if) AU Meme ❈ !! FROM THE INBOX VAULTS !!! *always accepting* @nettyfawn                              [INSPO]

It was a Friday when the large striped tent first poked the grey sky of his little town; but it wasn’t until Saturday he first saw her slipping behind the painted canvas of a sideshow tent on the far end of the lot. He reckoned he would have just missed her were it not for the green sparkles on her translucent wings, and boy was he glad she was wearing them.

The small admission fee burnt a hole in his pocket, but that was nothing compared to the heat in his face upon looking through the peephole and seeing her there, sat atop a comically sized thimble as she removed her stockings. The blush of her cheeks and the pale curls piled atop her head kept him from noticing or remembering anything else of the performance as he watched Tinkerbell move about her jewelry box scene. 

Aphrodite was in the next box over from what he’d heard from the whoops and hollers of the other men crowded in that small tent, but he would never see her. He could not bring himself to leave the keyhole-shaped opening that allowed him to see the fairy.

Five minutes felt no longer than the flap of a bird’s wing, but it was all he was allowed before being pushed back out to the flashing lights and calliope sounds; shocked like a newborn as he was forced into the second act of his life. Nary a single sign of his heart remained in his chest. 

He waited for her until the animals were put in their cages and de-nosed clowns smoked cigarettes behind the food wagons, but she did not cross his path.

On Sunday a few more coins were exchanged to enter the little tent, but a nude Snow White had taken her place, along with a dwarf that sucked at her toes. 

He left immediately with the hopes that whatever was happening in the main tent would replace what he’d seen, but no amount of dancing dogs nor marching elephants could ease the disappointment he felt. 

Alone in the egressing crowd he felt he was on a death march, feeling the weight of every lost hope falling behind him with each step towards the night. A roustabout operating a spotlight caught his forlorn gaze, which followed the beam about the large tent, round and round until it landed near the base of the circular stand. He was just about to exit the tent when he realized that overhead light caught the moon-like complexion he had only seen once before, and it seemed, then, that time stopped entirely. 

There were no sparkles, no wings or stockings, but he would have recognized her eyes anywhere. Those eyes of bright green were looking right at him—or so he would say. In truth, she could have been staring just beyond his head, but the truths of his reality never made for good stories.

The crowd around him took pause, the acrobats clearing the ring became statues, and the myriad sounds of animals went altogether unnoticed by his ears. In that paralyzed moment, the writer was compelled to move to her as he stepped into the center ring. There was no music playing, though later in life when looking back on this moment he would have told you there had been. 

Only a few steps into the center ring, a cap gun firing in the hands of a clown pulled him back down to earth, and forced time to move again. Though he was suddenly aware that there were other people in the world besides himself and the young woman who had turned her back to leave the tent with another blonde performer, he could not have cared less.

If he had cared, he would have realized he should have chased her in those few seconds it took for her to leave his sight. Instead, he lost her in the sea of patrons, no less a stranger to her than the rest of them.

Upon returning home that evening he would write only this in the yellowed pages of his journal: 

They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true. 

What they don’t tell you is that once time starts again, it moves extra fast to catch up. 

Tonight I met my destiny. 

Almost.

The writer would go on to wait for what felt like a lifetime of checking the train station for those red and yellow posters every day, just to see if the circus would return. 

It only took a year for that familiar train to roll back into town.

It was a Friday when he found the woman he was going to marry.

[agracefulmasquerade-blog]

gretty: beauty queen au

AU Meme || @nettyfawn

They’re both new to the circuit, younger than a lot of the other contestants. One poised and delicate, the other vivacious and captivating. They’ve both made it to the final round, and Grace isn’t sure what the other girl will think of her—maybe she’ll hate her, like most of the other girls hate the competition. She smiles, a little tremulous, already expecting a catty response. But instead Netty considers her for a moment before returning the smile. “The food here is awful. Want to go sneak out and get something good?” 

[thesterlingmoran]

Stetty Romeo and Juliet AU

It wasn’t meant to end like this. No, no, it wasn’t meant to end at all. Tonight was meant to be a beginning. A whirlwind of something that must’ve been love, a magnetic pull to defy all expectations, a sin given and a sin taken in beauty, a promise made, a promise kept.

If I profane with my unworthiest handThis holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready standTo smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

But here now, another sin taken, one without chance for repentance. Here now, a promise broken, expectations confirmed. If only he had woken sooner, if only the message had been passed along, if only they had shared a bit more honesty. If only, if only, if only…

There is no time left for if onlys.

“Where is my Annette?” 

The words are spoken, but he needs no answer. The look Friar Francis gives is more than enough to cause fears he hadn’t realized he possessed wash over him in whole. There is his love. A cup, closed in her pale hand, empty. She looks so peaceful she could be sleeping. There are no tears, no cries of anguish. No, there is no reason for any of that when he’ll be with her again soon enough.

Lips find lips, a kiss not returned. 

“Thy lips are warm. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.”

But the sin is not purged. A noise from outside, a shout, no time left to follow sweet Annette into the gentle sleep with the same poison.

Eyes fall on her dagger. 

And he does the same.

[charlotte-leigh]

Psst: Three things that they’ve always wanted to tell your character.

@nettyfawn ♡

1. There is no one in the world I would rather share this life with, or work with, or dance with... but I wish that Annette had never come to the Moulin Rouge. She is a hell of a dancer, a hell of a girl, she should be at the Palais or Le Chat. She is too good for this place, and I hate every moment knowing that she has to work here. 

2. I wrote an entire journal full of letters for her when I was in London, but I felt foolish sending them. I thought that I would have made her feel too sorry for me, or made her want to come and help me, and I wanted her to enjoy her time in New York. It was supposed to be her big break, after all, but if I had known how unhappy she was I would have sent them in a heartbeat. The journal got lost somewhere between Barcelona and Havana.  

3. I might be a little bit in love with her, in the most pure way I have ever loved anyone. I would choose her happiness over mine whenever given the chance. She is the only person in this world that has never let me down, and I hope that she can say the same of me. I love her and I would do anything on earth for her. That being said, I will kill her if she lets her Wednesday night regular vomit on one of my costumes again. 

[bharisinclair]

“ do you love me ?”

Drunken Confession Meme ❈ accepting.

The sound of her breathing as she laid beside him grabbed his attention, thankfully, as the topic of love was a complicated one, growing more so as the days went on. He’d told her, twice already, but the score on his end was still naught. 

It was alright, though. At least that was what he told himself until his head began to believe it. 

“Yes,” he said bluntly, quietly. He could smell the alcohol on his own breath, no doubt a major factor in what pulled the word from his chest. 

Bhari thought of the number 5, and of blue ink. He often did, but those thoughts tended to stick around longer when he’d had a few drinks in him. Five ‘i love you’s in blue ink that had begun to fade from how many times he’d traced them with his fingers in times when he needed comfort. They were no less real than any word she could say in front of him, yet somehow, they were easier to doubt. 

New York could be stressful, he knew that firsthand. Hyperboles are often written in times of stress. That was what his anxious mind liked to remind him time and time again. 

It’s alright, he thought. Perhaps she just needed to hear it, to be reminded. If that was the case, he would do so, time and time again until the words didn’t sound real anymore and his lungs had no air left to give.

 Bhari’s mind went to a room with green curtains and red sheets, and he wondered how many others before him had said the same. He wondered how they told her, which word they added an inflection to, if any. Was it I or you? Was it love? Most importantly, did she say it back?

“I love you, Annette,” he said with such conviction that it hurt his heart and worked in sobering him up, just a little. There was no chance that anyone before him, whose sentiments surely fell warm on her skin, had said it like that. 

[bharisinclair]

“ do you regret letting me close ?”

Drunken Confession Meme ❈ accepting.

“I never had a choice, darling. You fell in my lap, after all.”