#fff40

A/N: Some AU-ish ficlet with Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson again, because the prompt is too good to pass on for these two! A dab of mutual pining with oblivious idiots, lmaooo.

And the word count was hard to deal with. ; - ;

Word Count: 771

TW: None

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Even with a sprawling crowd chattering, an orchestra performed a drastic and triumphant composition. Guests were dancing in pairs beneath the center of sparkling chandeliers in a glittering ballroom.

I had trouble fitting today’s prompt in my WIP or any other of my stories, but I finally came up with something for this weeks @flashfictionfridayofficial​ !!

Hope you like it! :D

“Arin town. We were supposed to find him there. We went to the house the fairy told us, and knocked the door. A few moments later, a middle-aged man with brown hair opened the door. He was exactly as I remembered him, maybe with a longer beard, but he was indeed the baker that worked near home back in Areastin. 

“Lilian! What a pleasant surprise to see you here safe and sound” he said as he showed us the way in his house. 

So, this is the man who is supposed to be my father, I said to myself; he doesn’t really look like an hamas -but again, neither did I a week ago.

He seemed to notice the confused look on my face, as he told us to find a place to sit and began talking. “Well, I guess you have many questions for me, is that right? But, first things first. Now that you’ve discovered your true self, I’ll take off my mysterious masquerade and expose my natural face.” Immediately after, he mumbled a couple of words while moving his hands in front of his face, and cast a spell that slowly began showing his face.

Firstly, the baker’s -or should I say my father’s- brown hair turned into a more reddish looking hair; then, two horns, similar to mine, emerged from his head; and lastly, his round ears became pointy. There were a few small changes in his face, but he looked pretty much the same. 

And it was in that exact moment when I accepted the fact that he was my biological father. After all these months travelling, there was a part of me that told me it was all a lie; but in that moment, seeing his green eyes and red hair that looked just like mine, was when I finally believed it. 

At long last, I met my father.”

So another fun prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial​ though I had four or five false starts before I hit on the combination I wanted.  Not that I can’t use the others, but they weren’t going where I wanted today, so they’re less useful than I liked.

This should please people.  If not, well, I have a suggestion…come for a visit, you can stay for dinner.

Once again, thanks the wonderful @flashfictionfridayofficial for this awesome prompt! I REALLY had loads of fun with this one!! This is a possible scene that I’ve been thinking to add on my wip’s outline. And it just fit this prompt perfectly! Title: The Golden Ball (572 words) Warnings: none The plan was simple enough. 

Infiltrate the ball, search for the Gem, run away and then return to the forest: hopefully the Spirit living there would be pleased.

The magician sighed deeply. She really didn't like that dress: too frilly, too stiff... She missed her old clothes. She didn't mind the mask, though: at least nobody would ask why a human was there. And, she had to admit, it added that hint of mystery she really liked to her image. 

"Are you ready?" she asked Floria, who had just finished putting her mask on.

The girl nodded: "This mask makes my voice sound funny, does it not?"

The magician chuckled: "It really does."

She spared one moment to look at her friend: it seemed like she was used to such a gaudy dress. Her heart skipped a beat. It looked like it really fit her, like she was born in the world of riches and blinding gold.

Banishing the thought, she gestured towards her: "Let's go. I think the others are already inside. Keep your eyes peeled for the Gem!"

"You got it!"

I know it's slightly late and slightly over but I was very excited by this prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial!! Thank you!

Mischievous Masquerade

 The mask of a masquerade ball was the fancy of most. A ball had its gowns, its music, its laughter but a masquerade had mystery. With the possibility of not being quite seen, there was a chance to be someone bolder, smarter, kinder. A freedom Constance had craved when she adorned her silk painted dress and delicate white mask. Tonight, she was Lady Constance, a woman of refined taste.

With an air of elegance, Constance floated through the ballroom, admiring the lavish chandeliers and sipping cherry flavoured wine. She did not stop to talk, nor to dance. Just walked amidst the aristocracy wearing an effortless smile that said she enjoyed their company, but was far above it. She was Lady Constance after all, as aloof as she was grand. And so, when she reached the edge of the room, she slipped out onto the balcony and finally breathed.

It was a cool night, though the breeze welcome compared to the sweltering ballroom. Constance found it soothing and leaned against the battlements, humming along to the bass that rumbled through the stonework. From here, she could see the moon. It was small, a thin glowing crescent fallen into an ocean, and yet it couldn’t help drawing her eye. In the cellar, her window was so low that this view had become unreachable.

But tonight, she was Lady Constance, a woman who could gaze fancifully at the sky anytime of the week. She wouldn’t stand for doing so at a ball. Constance pushed off the wall, intent on wooing herself a dance, when a noise stopped her short. She peered over the side of the balcony.

An uninvited guest was scaling the wall, dressed entirely in finery but strangely without a mask. His shirt, waistcoat and breeches were unusually black. In fact, his entire outfit was, aside from three garish red feathers sticking out his hat. Constance lay her elbows on the stone.

‘You know, there’s stairs right there.’ She called, eyeing the masonry that spiralled up to her balcony.

The man’s eyes widened a fraction  at her sudden address. Then he saw her and a grin stretched across his brown lips, a mischievous type that fitted so well on his rugged face she imagined it had been worn time and time again.

‘Yes!’ The man cried, dropping from the wall and landing on the rooftop beneath her. ‘But what if I got recognised!?’

Constance remained carefully unimpressed. ‘It’s a masked ball.’

‘Ah.’

The man bit his lip. ‘You’re good at this.’

Constance smiled coyly.

‘I like to think.’

She turned back around, but kept sly watch as the man hopped onto the stairs with an athletic kind of bounce.

‘So what’s your recommendation?’ He asked on arrival. ‘You take my hand and we waltz through this door undetected?’

‘We?’

The man grinned. ‘If you weren’t my partner in crime you would’ve called the guards by now.’

Constance could not fault this logic.

‘Maybe.’ She said, taking another purposeful sip of wine. ‘I don’t want to assist a fool though. How come you didn’t simply wear a mask and wander in amongst the other guests?’

The man hummed, sidling up to her. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Constance. Now tell me why you were trying to live like ivy?’

‘Constance.’ He repeated. Then he sprang backwards, sweeping into a full bow. ‘It is a privilege to meet you fair Constance, however, I am displeased you think this noble prince to be a fool.’

Prince? This man was not the image brought to Constance’s mind. Prince was the sour Crown Prince who dealt in money, taxes and prosecution. Prince Zaphron could be seen licking his lips at executions. This handsome, albeit slightly dishevelled man, seemed to get his kicks out of narrowly escaping execution. This was no Prince Zaphron. Which meant...

‘Prince Mikhalis?’

The younger brother grinned.

‘At your service.’

Constance felt a sudden thundering in her chest. It would be no good to flounder now though, so she forced it down.

‘Why does a prince need to sneak into his own party?’

Mikhalis smirked. ‘I think you’ll find I was trying to sneak past my own party.’

‘You’d snuck out.’ Constance thought aloud.

Mikhalis hummed.

‘And now will you help me sneak back in oh wise one?’

He fluttered his eyes, stealing her free hand. Constance looked at the moon.

‘I’ll make it with your while.’ he crooned and when Constance looked back he winked.

‘Fine.’ She said, feeling her tummy full with bubbles. ‘Do as I say.’

If she had a prince at her knees, she was going to have a little fun.

‘Take off your hat.’ She commanded, sliding off her shoes.

‘Put these on.’

The Prince’s eyes flicked up with a familiar spark.

‘Kinky.’

Constance scoffed, ripping the feathers from his hat. ‘They’ll change your stature.’

‘Whatever you say,’ the prince sang, sliding them on with a shimmy.

Constance was starting to believe this was a little bit too much work. Still she wound the feathers together, and bent down to place them across the prince’s eyes, fixing them into place by shoving the hat over the top.

‘How do I look?’ The prince asked. Constance found the feathers made his green eyes pierce.

‘Acceptable.’

The two stumbled through the party, ducking under flying arms and swaying around groups of dancers. Each time the prince tripped, Constance stumbled and the two giggled as they tried to style out the movement, ignoring the indignant faces of diplomats. They’d blame it on being spiffy. And once they’d burst into the corridor, Constance cried, ‘kick off the shoes!’ Already running into the stairs.

‘I don’t want to break them.’ Mikhalis shouted in alarm.

‘It’s alright they’re not mine!’

Mikhalis made a face. ‘Isn’t that worse.’

Constance laughed, jumping back down to reel him forward, forcing him to stumble out of them.

‘You’re trouble.’ He said without a hint of fear.

It was Constance’s turn to smirk.

Then Mikhalis grabbed her hand, and took off running, racing them through plush corridors and winding stairs. In little time at all, they were bursting into a spacious oak room.

‘Finally.’ Mikhalis announced, letting the door slam shut behind. He bounded across the room, landing in front of Constance and spinning her into his arms.

‘What now?’ He asked, flashing wild eyes.

Constance smirked. Without waiting for an answer, she kissed him. Quickly, with the same fervour as the running. And her heart raced just as fast. She pushed at the feathers, hating the way they tickled her cheeks as Mikhalis pulled the ribbons of her own mask. It seemed they were finally free. Then there was a huge crash.

‘BROTHER!’ A voice boomed and the couple sprang apart. It was Zaphron. Constance’s heart stopped. ‘What have I told you about sneaking out! We have guests and diplomats and-‘

He stopped, eyes landing on Constance. She squeezed her nails into her palms, stomach turning as the tie on her mask finally gave.

There was an indignant gasp.

‘Why aren’t you in your cell!?’ Zaphron demanded, staring at her with unbridled rage. Constance cringed.

(My response to @flashfictionfridayofficial​‘s FFF40 prompt: Mysterious Masquerade, exactly 1000 words long, not counting footnotes)

 Robin ran after the flickering figure in the cape.

           Her mask wasn’t exactly the most discreet and the face-changing wasn’t exactly the best way to hide her face if one knew what to look for. The shining lines along her mask when she performed were very obvious hints to her identity, especially the face-changing.

            This would be a lot easier if Robin had been a younger person. As it was, they would just have to run fast and hope that they caught her in time before she did something silly that got her caught by the authorities.

            Robin adjusted their own mask and thought about how the Witch would move in this circumstance. If she was smart, and they hoped she was because what else was being raised by faerie good for if she wasn’t good at assessing a situation, she would know to use the roofs and hide in the trees.

            “Robin?” Robin paused for breath and flipped open their mirror just to see their partner with the backdrop of branches of trees. “Did she manage it?”

            Robin nodded and checked on the Witch’s progress from where they were hiding.

            Girl was really lucky that no one in the magic industry wanted to rat her out to the authorities and supported her. She could try to be a little less obvious.

            There was a loud clang of very familiar music and Robin started running again, checking how the Witch was moving. Okay, so judging by the reverb of it, the Witch had made it to the tree line already which was good.

            Robin laughed a little at the reminder that she was styling herself as the Witch but using very obvious magician techniques. It did obscure her other heritage, indeed, and it did keep her safe, which was the main point, but he really wished she had chosen a safer way of doing it.

            Then again, he supposed that she wouldn’t be who she was if she ever chose a safe way of doing things.

            The music started up again and there was a flurry of sparks as the Witch stood on a rooftop and appeared to change her face again and then disappear into thin air.

            Robin checked that no one had figured out where she had actually gone and disappeared to and made some remarks in order to ensure that the relevant Hunters were all going in the wrong direction, and then disappeared into the forest themself.

            Time to go home and have a good talk about having better and less obvious magic tricks and escape routes.

            Like dear god, they felt their entire heart stop when she had nearly been trapped by her own trick and nearly gotten caught. They had immediately run interference, of course, and made sure the Witch got out safely, while safely obscuring their own identity in a way that was less obvious.

            “Of course, I’m the Witch.” They nearly felt their heart stop again and now they really needed to have a good and long talk about not revealing any details where you weren’t safe. Then, they heard the response and let out another breath.

            “Yes, so what’s your plan?” Rowan responded, very patiently, darting among the trees next to the witch. Robin very much envied their partner’s ability to still be nimble among trees because they were faerie and Robin, very much, was not.

            The Witch didn’t respond and would probably have kept running. Good luck to her, Rowan was just as concerned as they were, and probably more because it was the faerie community that the Witch was supposed to be defending.

            (They had thanked Cinder profusely after finding out that he had run interference during the last close call the Witch had. Robin doesn’t know why the Witch thinks that luck magic and stage magic is all she needs.)

            “Yes, but your plan needs to be thought through. Are you working alone?” Robin nearly snorted at the patience in Rowan’s voice.

            The Witch tried to escape by taking a detour.

            Rowan blocked her.

            “Yes. I am.” The Witch responded curtly, but with a flicker of fear that anyone else might have missed.

            “Well, maybe you should ask for help.”

           “I’m not going to endanger anyone else.”

            They were nearing their house. The Witch still hadn’t noticed Robin, which didn’t say much for her ability to detect human presences. Another thing for the long, long talk they needed to have.

            “Ah, but you’re okay with endangering yourself?” Rowan said sweetly and Robin stumbled and stepped on a crack, trying to hide their laughter.

            “Yes.” And oh my god Aster, is that actually your response to pretending not to know your own parent?

            Both Rowan and the Witch land on the roof of their house. Robin entered by the front door, owing to the fact that they are in fact forty, and lack the stamina to chase after their teenage daughter at this time of the night. Robin paused to breathe and then climbed the stairs to the rooftop.

            It’s a starry night and the moon is shining bright, glinting off the mask the Witch was wearing.

            “Dear Witch, can you please get in the house so we can have this talk?” Robin said, still panting.

            “Ah, I cannot impose. I must be off-“ The Witch began, only to be cut off by Rowan when they just grab her arm and pull her into the house.

            “Now. We can speak freely.” Rowan said, quite satisfied.

            “I really must be off.”

            “You got somewhere to be at-“ Robin checked their watch. “2:37a.m. in the morning, Aster?”

            “我不是[1]- I mean, I’m not-“

            “I see, Robin, there’s another person who somehow happens to know 变脸[2] and who speaks with a Sichuan accent, who also happens to be very passionate about faerie and who-“

            “Okay, okay, yes. I’m the Witch.” Aster said, pulling off her mask and tucking it in her cloak.

            “Good. We know.”

[1] Translated: ‘I’m not-“