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inkykeiji · 3 years

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you’re all that i need, underneath the tree

characters: dabi, shigaraki tomura

genre: tooth-rotting fluff with a sprinkle of angst

notes: aaah okay! set in the break my bones but act as my spine universe, between part one and part two but after dabi’s apology!! poor dabi gets dragged out with the happy couple to go hunting for the perfect christmas tree :) | title credit: underneath the tree by kelly clarkson

warnings: pining, daddy kink (without the kinkiness), generally toxic relationships

words: 3.3k

synopsis:

And so what if you’re more excited than Tomura is about his agreeing to come, even though it was Tomura who asked for his assistance; so what if it makes his chest swell with that irritatingly tingling sensation, the one that seeps into his veins and shoots through the rest of his body, the one that makes him feel like he’s buzzing. What’s it matter, anyway?

The answer, as far as he’s concerned, is simple.

It doesn’t. It shouldn’t. It never will.

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

Snow crunches under his heavy boots as he trudges along behind you, staring at the back of your head with a glare so vicious, so ferocious it could melt platinum.

Dabi hates Christmas.

Smoke from a large bonfire, lined by families—good looking couples with tiny carbon copies of themselves, gloved hands tenderly cupping hot chocolate as the children chatter animatedly, little squeals of laughter overlapping the indistinct noise—blows into his face and he chokes on it a bit, the tiny glowing embers it carries with it through the air burning his eyes.

Dabi hates Christmas.

He’s only coming because Tomura’s his fucking boss, he had told you curtly when you swiveled around in the front seat of the Maybach to express your excitement to him, forcing his eyes to stay on the white leather beneath him, unable to bear the way he’s sure your face is falling at his sharp words. He hates Christmas.

But Tomura had snorted a little to himself the moment the words left Dabi’s lips, because God, what a fucking lie. He doesn’t voice the thought, but he doesn’t need to—it’s clear in his ruby eyes as they meet sapphire through the rearview mirror, an amused little smirk present on his scarred lips as he raises an eyebrow in mocking question.

Yeah. Alright, fine. He’s a fucking liar, so what? Yeah, alright, so maybe he’s only here because of you, because he knows that if he had refused, the entire trip would’ve been ruined, and he couldn’t have that on his conscious, couldn’t handle that on his conscious.

It’s his turn to snort at himself, rolling his eyes. What a pathetic excuse for a man. It’s a real funny joke, though; a man who can kill indiscriminately, who can kill delightfully, without batting a fucking eye as bits of skull and brain splatter on the toe of his boot, can’t handle the thought of even one more of your salty tears staining his soul.

The answer, as far as he’s concerned, is simple.

It doesn’t. It shouldn’t. It never will.

❅ ❅ ❅

This place is way too extravagant for a Christmas Tree farm, Dabi mutters to himself as he trails behind you, seething azure darting around the venue with a deep scowl, taking note of the large stone building that doubles as a gift shop and a café—all baked goods made on the premises and handcrafted with love, of course—with crystal windows that gleam in the weak afternoon sunlight and gentle curls of smoke escaping its chimney. Scattered bonfires blaze among the grounds, each with a group of Christmas tree hunters arranged in a loose circle around it, keeping warm and roasting marshmallows. The sticky sweet scent drifts through the air, Dabi wrinkling his nose as it hits him. That soft clop-clop of horseshoes against matted snow mingles with the sound of classic Christmas music as white and brown horses pull intricate wooden sleighs around the area.

It all makes him fucking sick. God, Dabi hates Christmas.

“Oh my gosh!” you’re gushing as you cling to Tomura. “Daddy, it’s so pretty,”

The two of you are attracting the gazes of everyone in the immediate vicinity, Dabi hunching in further on himself, trying to bury his face in the neck of his jacket. Really, he should be used to this by now. The pair of you are always a sight to be seen, with you in your little dresses—crushed black velvet this time, with a high neckline and a dainty satin ribbon tied around your ribs in a tiny, neat bow—and black trench coat, hem ending just above your knees; and Tomura in his vibrant red coat, teasingly obscuring his fitted black trousers—tailored specifically for him, of course—and black cashmere turtleneck.

It makes the two of you look like you just stepped out of the Christmas edition of a fucking high fashion catalogue. It makes Dabi feel ratty and underdressed—makes everyone around you feel ratty and underdressed, honestly—in his faded black jeans and big combat boots.

You’ve wandered off a little further ahead now, eyes glittering and bright as they soak everything in, hands clasped adoringly against your chest.

“Daddy!” you gasp suddenly, turning back to look at Tomura, eyes wide and sparkling, catching in the soft yellow glow of nearby Christmas lights. “They’re giving out hot chocolate!”

“Yes, they are, princess,” Tomura smiles, eyes softening as he gazes at you, now halted a few feet ahead of him, his hands outfitted in leather gloves clasped loosely behind his back as he strolls.

“Can I go get some?” you bounce a little on the balls of your feet as he meets you.

“Of course you can, baby,”

“Thanks! I—Do you want some, too?”

“Sure,” Tomura shrugs amicably. “Go wait in line, Daddy will be there in a moment,”

Your smile falls a little—just a hint, really, the corners of your lips twitching, a miniscule action Dabi hates that he notices—as your eyes flit between your Daddy and him, blinking twice, brow wrinkling in the cutest way. Dabi grits his teeth, hands balling into fists as he fights the itch, the urge, to reach out and smooth your skin out again. Pathetic. He’s fucking pathetic.

“Um, o-okay,”

Tomura nods encouragingly, then quirks his head towards the ever-growing lineup, as if to say get going! You obey immediately, scampering off with a cute little affirmative yelp. Dabi instantly moves to follow you, is so accustomed to having you glued to his side that watching skip off on your own like that evokes a thick panic in his chest, rising way too quickly in his throat, his mouth opening to call your name, to scold you for running off as he’s done so many times before.

“Wait,” Tomura mutters, a hand curling tightly around Dabi’s bicep, his voice low, dangerous. Brow furrowing, Dabi looks from the hand wrapped around him, to the face of its owner, and back to you again.

“Look at me,” Tomura snaps, Dabi’s tongue running along the front of his teeth as he sucks on them, keeping the insults brewing in his mouth from escaping. Scarlet eyes search his face, slowly, calmly, but every second you’re away from him has Dabi’s heart pounding harder and harder, powerless to stop his eyes from worriedly glancing your way again, only brought back to his boss’ face by a harsh squeeze around his bicep.

Tomura speaks at an unhurried pace, voice even and controlled, annunciating each word with purpose in an effort to beat them into Dabi’s scattered brain.

“Do not upset her today, or I swear to God, I’ll break your fucking nose. She’s been looking forward to this for weeks—I had to pull teeth to get this day off,”

And Dabi hates that, even in the middle of a humiliating, demeaning scolding from his boss, he can’t keep his eyes from darting towards you again, scanning the line you’re currently squished in for any potential threats, instinctual and automatic at this point, a habit. Tomura pulls on his arm a little, directing Dabi’s stare back to him again.

And he knows, goddamn it, he knows how excited you’ve been for this, how important this stupid little Christmas tree hunt is to you, because it’s all you’ve been able to babble about for fucking days now.

“Take whatever the hell you need to, to be fucking nice, you hear me?”

But he nods anyway, carves false derision into his face as his eyebrows furrow and his lips tug down, ripping his arm from Tomura’s grasp. “Yeah. Got it.”

His tone is clipped, and he doesn’t miss the way Tomura’s jaw clenches once with the grinding of his molars, smirking a little as his head tilts, crimson eyes regarding Dabi in a way that makes him feel like shivering, in a way that makes him feel exposed, naked, unprotected.

“You better.”

❅ ❅ ❅

“Here, Dabi!”

A jolt runs down his spine at the sound of your voice saying his name, and he turns towards you, brow knitting slightly as he’s met with a paper cup, held out to him between your two mitten-clad hands, your own drink secured precariously between your ribs and the crook of your elbow.

“What’s this?”

And he fucking hates the way his voice trembles, the way that stupid warmth starts blooming in his chest again, the way it does any time you do something small for him, any time you physically prove that you were thinking of him, too. Clearing his throat, he stares at the beverage, pointedly avoiding your eyes.

“I got you one, too,” you explain simply, pushing the streaming drink at him a little more, rich notes of chocolate and cream wafting over him, urging him to retrieve it from your tiny hands. “Take it,”

He has half a mind to lie, to tell you that he hates chocolate even though his mouth is watering, even though he knows you know he loves it, to knock the cup from your hands and watch as the hot liquid eats through the snow like a disease, melting it into nothing.

“Thanks,” he grumbles instead, looking away as he grabs it from your outstretched hands.

Tomura returns a moment later, a large red saw in his clutch. “All ready to go Christmas tree hunting, princess?”

❅ ❅ ❅

Dabi will always be amazed by your ability to make everyone around you fall absolutely, irrevocably, head over heels in love with you in mere moments, cobalt eyes trained on the old man holding the horses’ reins—a wide, sincere smile stretched across his face, hazel eyes positively gleaming as they gaze down at you from his spot atop the sleigh—asking you if you’d like to feed the animals, your knuckles gently caressing their velvety noses.

Maybe later, Tomura promises you when you glance back at him, whispering “Can I, Daddy?”, reminding you that there’s only a few hours of sunlight left, and if you’re on a mission to find the perfect Christmas tree, you best start soon.

Sat in between Dabi and yourself in the tiny oak sleigh, Tomura pulls a tattered, folded piece of paper from his pocket, reciting your criteria for The Perfect Christmas Tree.

The Perfect Christmas Tree, the paper states, must encompass the four elements listed below:

It has to be the perfect mixture of forest green with those pretty blue undertones—nothing too blue or powdery!

It has to smell good but not too strong—if it’s too strong, it makes you nauseous

It has to be full—you know, not one of those Charlie Brown trees that are all branches and no body, or one of those thin tall trees—but not too bushy! Not so fat that the needles obscure the lights and ornaments

It has to be perfectly symmetrical and triangular, not lopsided or wonky

Dabi plays stupid, acts as if he doesn’t have that whole list memorized back to front, acts as if he couldn’t regurgitate it in his sleep, like he didn’t sit down with you at the breakfast bar and help you make it, even though it’s in his handwriting.

❅ ❅ ❅

Every tree is beginning to look the same to him. The three of you have been wandering through these fields for just over an hour and a half now, and Dabi’s positive he’s about to lose all ten of his toes to frostbite.

“We are not leaving until we find the perfect tree, damn it!” Tomura spits, ruby eyes practically glowing as they fly to Dabi’s face.

“Right, right,” Dabi grumbles to himself, nodding his head a little and tucking his gloved hands under his armpits in an attempt to at least save his fingers.

But you do eventually find it, after Dabi complains about dying from hypothermia for the third time; a massive blue spruce that isn’t too blue, that smells good but not too strong, that is full but not bushy, and that tapers off into a perfect triangle—wide at the bottom and coming to a point at the top, perfectly symmetrical.

Tomura glances over his shoulder at you after he’s finished brushing off all of the snow from the tree’s branches, so you can examine it fully. “Well? Is this the one, baby?”

And the way your eyes absolutely dazzle as you gaze at it, a large, brilliant smile splitting your face as the most precious giggles hitch in your throat, head nodding in cute little motions—well, God, that makes it all worth it. In that moment, Dabi’s sure he’d endure this cold a thousand times over, would lose all of his fingers and all of his toes, just to experience that look of pure, innocent happiness on your face once again.

“Yes, Daddy! It’s perfect,”

❅ ❅ ❅

Even baled, this tree is a giant pain in the ass to get up to the penthouse. It takes the men a solid half hour to figure out a way to fit the tree into the elevator, gleaming droplets of sweat dripping down their faces, tufts of hair clinging to their cheeks.

“Is it still—oh, for fuck’s sake—the perfect tree?” Dabi hisses out as the three of you press yourselves against the monstrous tree, just barely stuffing yourselves into the elevator, an escaped branch digging into his cheek.

“Yes,” you snicker.

“Yes,” Tomura echoes. “Stop being a brat, Dabi,”

“I—Me? Me!” Dabi sputters, at a loss for words. Him, a brat? After everything he just did for you, Tomura’s perfect little princess?

“Yes, you,” you giggle, knocking your shoulder playfully against his bicep. Any rebuttal gets lodged in his throat as he gazes down at you, sapphire eyes softening as they meet yours, shining with mirth, unable to tame the smile tugging at your lips.

He hasn’t seen you this happy in a long time. An ache takes root at the very core of his body, agony radiating throughout his limbs as he’s hit with the dim realization that Tomura’s increasing absence affects you a lot more than he originally thought—that you miss him more than you let on—and the ache in his chest pulses, though he is unable to discern whether it pulses for you, or for him.

It takes nearly another thirty minutes to get the tree safely secured in its stand before slowly cutting through the netted baling and removing it, allowing the tree’s branches to fan out.

Isaac is immediately curious, sitting back on his hind legs and gnawing on one of the branches for a moment before leaping into the tree, lithe body curving through the boughs as he burrows his way to the trunk in the center, digging his little claws into it as you cry out his name in alarm.

“Here, I’ll get him,” Dabi offers, still kneeling on the floor from fastening the screws on the stand.

A little chuckle falls from his lips as he reaches between the branches, gathering the kitten in one hand.

“What do you think you’re doin’ in there, little guy,” he asks as he pulls Isaac from the tree, little paws swiping at the needles, trying to catch them as Dabi drags him out.

“Silly kitty,” you scold as Dabi places him gently on the hardwood. “You aren’t an ornament!”

And Dabi can’t help the genuine laugh that gets caught in his chest, gazing up at you with a fond shake of his head. “He’s gonna be real trouble around this thing, that’s for sure,”

Tomura returns then with three large boxes full of expensive, glittering ornaments in his arms, grumbling about how he had to dig through one of the spare closets to find them and dropping them unceremoniously by the tree, the items delicately clinking together.

Exhaustion weighs heavy on his chest, beginning to restrict his breathing, and Dabi takes this as his cue to depart, because truthfully, the last thing he wants right now is to have to witness you being all mushy and domestic with Tomura. Wordlessly, he heads towards the front door, already craving the soft embrace of his lush bed, eager for the bliss unconsciousness undoubtedly brings with it.

“Dabi?”

Your voice is so small, so fragile, sounds almost hurt, his hand freezing on the handle, shoulders tensing.

“You’re not staying?”

He stares directly ahead, gaze searing into the door as his body goes rigid. Please, he wants to beg, don’t start, not now, not when he knows he won’t be able to resist you.

But his name falls from your lips again, the sound so beautiful, so heartbreaking, and it pulls a deep sigh from his chest. He has no control, not an ounce of authority as his body instinctually turns towards you, the voracious need to comfort you outweighing the full, throbbing pang it inspires.

And, Christ, you look so fucking cute in your little opaque tights with fluffy, woolen socks pulled over them, clinging to your calves with cute little reindeer sown into them, toes pointed inward and overlapping just a little as you stare at him with the sweetest pout.

“Wait,” Tomura smirks, chucking a little. “You were going to leave me alone with this one, when she’s all hopped up on Christmas joy like this?”

Dabi stares at his boss, blinking rapidly, lips parting in anticipation of the words that never come.

“There’s no way I could handle her by myself today,” Tomura continues after a beat, crimson eyes shining in the warm light. “She’s got enough Christmas spirit for all three of us, and then some,”

“Daddy!” the word escapes your lips in a playful little squeal, giggles bubbling up in your throat as Tomura wraps an arm around you, pulling you against his side and nuzzling his nose against your neck. “We could really use your help,” you tell him softly, almost gently, still leaving that option for him to escape, should he choose to do so.

His heart’s thudding against his ribs as he clears his throat, tongue darting out to lick his lips, words leaving his mouth sluggishly, yet at an uneven pace, voice quivering ever so slightly.

“I-I guess I could…Stay, to help you guys decorate the tree—for a little. I mean, it is a fucking monster,”

“Ah, yay!” you beam at him, clapping your hands excitedly. “Daddy, now that Dabi’s staying, can we make cookies?”

“Sweets before dinner, princess?”

“Pretty please?” you whimper, gazing up at him with the very definition of puppy-dog eyes. “I promise I’ll eat all my veggies, even the funky looking ones—” Tomura snorts, interrupting you, but you barrel on. “—I will, I swear!”

And, really, Tomura’s powerless to resist you, to deny you, left absolutely defenceless when you’re batting your eyelashes up at him like that, voice syrupy and sweet as little fingers cling to his shirtsleeve. Dabi doesn’t blame him—your pout should be registered as a lethal weapon.

Tomura goes to call for his personal chef, but you cut him off, wrinkling your nose and shaking your head.

“No, not the fancy ones,” you say as if it’s obvious. “I wanna make the store-bought ones! Y’know, the ones in the tube—”

“The ones that you begged our personal grocery shopper to smuggle in for you?” Tomura raises an eyebrow, and you finally have the decency to look sheepish, nodding your head. “Those ones?”

“Yes! Yes, please, those ones,” you respond eagerly, waiting for that final nod from Tomura before scampering off towards the kitchen, Tomura’s voice calling after you as he warns you to be careful with the scissors!

Yeah, alright, Dabi thinks as the smell of cheap sugar cookies washes over him, nimble fingers hanging another crystal bulb on the tree while you scold Tomura for placing too many ornaments of the same colour in one spot, an involuntary grin spreading across his cheeks as that inexplicable warmth blossoms in his chest again. So maybe Christmas isn’t that bad after all.

#dabi x reader #dabi fluff #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fluff #dabi #shigaraki tomura #WAAAAAH SURPRISE ehehe #this is just something small n quick u know but i wanted to write some cute christmassy stuff for the bmb universe too!!#figured it would be nice to give u guys some old fashioned fluff amidst all that touya angst <33

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icanfixhimclub · 3 years

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"You're insufferable." "I'm glad."

This is part 2 to this, so go read that first!

Blue strided pridefully to the stage, standing beside who she now knows is David, as Jack waves to everyone. "Carrying the banner!" Jack yelled and everyone in the stands cheered. "We've come a long way, but we ain't done yet. And maybe it's only gonna get tougher from now on. But that's fine, we'll just get tougher with it!"

Everyone cheered while Jack started speaking again, "But also...also we gotta get smart and listen to my pal david," some cheered, mostly like Manhattan newsies, "Who says, 'stop soaking the scabs.'" Blue scoffed stepping to look at Jack. "Hey look Kelly, when me and my boys see scabs, we soak 'em. Period."

Every cheered as Jack looked very displeased. "No, no, no!" David cut of the cheering, "That's what they want us to do! If we get violent, it's just playing into their hands." "Hey look, they're gonna be playin' with my hands alright?" Spot said sternly. "It ain't what they say anymore, it's what we say." Blue cut in, scowling at David.

"And nobody ain't gonna listen to us unless we make 'em." Spot adds on. Everyone started cheering again as Spot and Blue glanced at each other. "You got no brains!" Kelly shouts, "We're starting to fight each other, it's just what the big shots wanna see! That we're street trash! Street rats with no brains, no respect for nothing including ourselves!"

Everyone started sitting and quieting down. "So here's how it is," Jack begins again, "If we don't act together, we're nothing! If we don't stick together, we're nothing!" "Tell 'em Jack!" A kid yells. "So what's it gonna be?" Murmurs of agreement could be heard from the crowd as Spot and Blue paced. "So whadda you say Spot?" Jack asked.

Spot looks out into the crowd, "I say what you say...is what I say." Some of the crowd cheered but not all of it as Jack turned to Blue, looking hopeful. "I say you're an idiot Jack Kelly...but that ain't always a bad thing." Blue spit on her hand with a grin as Jack repeated the actions and the crowd cheered. Suddenly the lights went out and a spotlight got turned to the curtains, a red haired woman stepping out at the crowd cheers and wolf whistles.

"Oh boy." Blue mutters, slipping past people to leave the theater, having no mind to deal with the boys obnoxious behavior. Just a minute after she sat down, Spot Conlon did too. They sat in silence for a while until Spot spoke up, "Why do you hate me?" Blue chuckled in response, "Why shouldn't I?"

She turned to look at the dirty blonde, gaze questioning. "I can be a good guy!" Spot argues as Blue busts out laughing. "You? As if! The only thing 'good' about you is how you and Brooklyn use slingshot's, but even then my boys and me are better." Spot huffed, crossing his arms, "You're insufferable." "I'm glad."

Blue smiled a smile that made Spots face heat up, but he hoped the darkness would hide it. Then, an old man who don't look too friendly starts heading into the theatre. "Hey mista, you ain't s'posed to be in there right now." Blue reminded, standing up and blocking the door, Spot standing up shortly after.

"Move it little girl." The unknown man pushes Blue away, her head hitting the wall as Spot stops her from hitting the ground and the man enters the building. "Hey, Blue, you ok?" Conlon asks, sitting Blue against the wall. "Ya," She winces as she brings her hand up to rub the forming bump, "Just hurts a bit, nothing I'se can't handle."

When they hear the clopping of horses, they both turn their heads and see the bulls heading their way. With a knowing look, they both run inside. "Jack!" Blue yells, searching frantically, but she instead finds Bolt. "Bolt! Get the younger boys out, the bulls are here!" She's frantic and the loud noise doesn't help her head but Bolt nods as Blue flees to search for Jack.

Just as she sees Jack run, she all hears the deafening whistle of the bulls, ringing in her head. Everyone started trying to leave, some staying and fighting. As Blue saw a bull trying to take one of her younger boys, she ran to them, pulling the man back and punching him right in the gut, then kneeing him in the face when he doubled over.

She didn't even see it coming, another man landed a punch right where she had hit her head just a few minutes before. She heard the faint call of her name, but she was unconscious before she even hit the ground. Spot saw red, charging at the man, swing his fist with all his might be picking up Blue and running.

He saw an open area and ran backstage, right out the back doors. "Please be okay." He whispered, gently setting her down on the ground before running back inside, praying she was okay

"All rise, all rise. Court is now in session. Judge E. A. Monahan presiding." Blue groaned quietly, holding the ice pack against her head. "Are any of you represented by a counsel?" The judge asked. Spot, Racetrack and Blue all shared confused looks. "No. Good, good. That'll move this along considerably."

"Hey, ya honor, I object." Spot spoke up. "On what grounds?" "On the grounds of Brooklyn, your honor." Everyone laughed, even Blue let out a giggle that had Spot glancing down at her. The judge banged his gavel, unamused by Spots behavior, "I fine each of you 5 dollars, or 2 weeks confinement at the House of Refuge."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey we ain't got 5 bucks." "Hell, we ain't even got 5 cents!" Blue added on to Race's statement. "Hey your honor, how bout I roll ya for it? Double or nothing." Everybody laughed once again at Racetracks remark while the judge banged his gavel again. "All right, move along, move along."

"Your honor, I'll pay the fines," Everyone turned to see Denton enter the court room, "all of them." David entered as well, the 2 walking over to the others. The dull throb in Blue's head made her zone out, Denton words sounding miles away. She only zoned back in when she heard Race yell over to Jack.

The only thing Blue could focus on was the warmth that shot through her body when Spot grabbed her hand and lead her outside with the others, all heading to the restaurant. "Blue, get that ice pack back on ya head." Spot ordered when he saw Blue drop it on the table. "I'se fine, besides, my arm is hurtin'." She complained.

Everyone greeted Denton as he walked into the restaurant. "Why didn't the sun print the story?" David questions immediately. "Because it never happened." Everyone talked over each other in forms of confusion. "If it's not in the papers it never happened. The owners decreed that it not be in the papers, therefore..."

Blue could hear Spots heavy breathing, most likely of anger. "Anyways, I came to tell you fellas goodbye." Silence fell over the restaurant, nobody dared to speak. "What happened, did ya get fired?" David steps forward but Denton was quick to shoot down the idea. "No, I got reassigned back to my old job as the sun's ace war correspondent. They want me to leave right away. The owner thinks they should only cover really important stories so..."

David walked away in what seemed like disappointment. "They don't always fire you, David. I would be blackballed from every paper in the country," Denton tugged David's arm to get him to face him, "Hey, I'm a newspaper man. I have to have a paper to write for." David still stayed silent as Denton sighed, "This is the story I wrote about the rally. And, I want you to read it at least."

Denton took out a price of paper from inside his pocket, but David still remained quiet so Denton kinda forced the paper into his hand as he started leaving. "Bill," the waiter turned around, trying to tell Denton to keep it, "No, no, this should cover it." Denton handed the man some cash and left. David pushed off of the wall and crumpled the paper.

"God David, stop being an ass." Everyone turned to look at Blue, unready for her comment. "Excuse me?" David asked as Blue stood up. "You heard me. Denton had no control over being reassigned and he has to make money too. Boo hoo, we're not in the paper, suck it up and stop acting like a upset toddler."

Blue fiercely gazed at David, her annoyance evident. David shifted his gaze to the table infront of him. "We get Jack out of the refuge tonight. And from now on, we trust no one but the newsies." Everyone agreed, standing up and leaving. After leaving, Blue grabs David's wrist. "Hey, I'm coming with, rather you like it or not." She said, letting ho and walking away.

That night, her and the boys snuck past the Refuge gates following a carriage. David points to a lighted window, "That's where we saw Crutchy." A whistle blows and they all hide. Everyone could see it was Jack. "Where they takin' him Dave?" Mush asked as the loaded Jack into a carriage. "Only one way to find out," David took off his hat and waited for the carriage to leave." I'll meet you guys by the square."

As everyone watched David leave, Blue walked out, staring up at the window. "Aye, whaddya doin' Blue?" Race asked watching her intently. "Mush," The girl whipped around, staring at the tallest of the boys, "You're tallest, get me on your shoulders, Blink, I need the rope." Both boys nodded and walked over to her, Blink handing her the rope.

Mush bent down and helped Blue onto his shoulders, standing up and getting close to the wall. She tried throwing the rope up into the window bars, trying to get it to fall back down over something. When it did, she motion for Mush to set her down and he did. "Alright, which one of you'se is the strongest?" Mush, Blink and another raised their hands.

"Alright, your going to hold the rope still on this end while I climb up the other." The 3 nodded and walked over, grabbing the end of the rope. Blue grabbed the other end and used to Rope to help her scale the wall. When she reached the window, she nodded on it, a unknown kid opened the window. "Is anyone in here go by Radio?" She asked timidly.

The small girl looked sad, looking down. "Radio got real sick and died a few days ago." Blue's breath caught in her throat. She almost let go of the rope, everything slowing down. "T-thank you." Blue nodded and slid down the rope. Everyone's voices were fuzzed and Blue could feel the tears in her eyes. So she ran. She ran faster than she ever had before, faster than she thought she could go.

She ran until her legs gave out under her, right on the Brooklyn Bridge. Uncontrollable sobs ripped from her throat, everything seemed to disappear as she cried. She sobbed so loud she didn't even hear Spots footsteps, not even aware of his presence until he sat by her and puller her into his side. She started to hyperventilate, barely any air in her lungs.

"H-h-He was j-just a b-b-boy!" She subconsciously leaned into Spots comfort. "Hey, Blue, hey, calm down, easy does it." Her loud cries had slowly turned in small sniffles and tear stained cheeks. Spot slowly moved to sit in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. "Now," He brushed his thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear, "Tell me what happened."

"He's gone." She choked out, her hands grabbing at her shirt, "He was to young to d-die. He was 8 Spot, 8! He shouldn't of died at 8! He was gonna become a writer! He was," She choked back another sob, her voice cracking as she spoke, "He was gonna write a book 'bout all of us." The last part came out as a broken whisper, so heartbroken it made his clench.

A small, broken sob left Blue's lips, leaning into Spots touch as he wiped her tears. "Come to my lodge with me. It too late for you to be walkin' back to Queens alone." Too tired to respond, she just simply nodded, eyes already drooping. She didn't say a word when Spot effortlessly pick her up, heading back to the Lodging House.

About half way there, Spot looked down at her to find her peacefully asleep, head resting against Spots chest, the smallest snores escaping her mouth. Spot let out a small chuckle, continuing the long walk back to his Lodging house.

A/n: whew, that was long. Anyways, there's definitely gonna be a part 3 and possibly a part 4, so stick around for that!

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seventfics · 3 years

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Lionhearted

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Talking in your Sleep Relationships: Cirilla/Morvran Voorhis (+ background Emhyr/Geralt) Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: Before her future reign can begin, Cirilla has to commit to the trust exercise that is an arranged marriage. If only her sleep would be peaceful.

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* * *

“...Cirilla?”

Ciri stirs fully awake at a gentle touch over her shoulder. It is a miracle she does not lash out instinctively and break something. Her limbs feel tight, aching by how tense they’d become in sleep. The faint shadows of a nightmare still dance behind her eyes. She hears the clopping of hooves, the horses of the Wild Hunt approaching—the cold blast of winter hits her as if naked in the snow.

Pure imagination. The bedroom is warm-lit by a hearth. It is summer, and she is safe. She is more than safe.

The touch that rose her pulls her back from the lingering vision of doom. She turns to light eyes, pinched in worry.

“Sorry..." She draws the sheets closer, her wild hair a fan over her face. The room is warm, but a chill runs under her skin all the same. "Did I disturb you?”

Morvran studies her. He sits a comfortable distance away from her. The monstrously-large bed makes that easy. “Not really.”

Slowly, her muscles unwind from their tense curl. A minute passes, and she’s tired again. “Don’t let me keep you awake,” she says rolling on her side, and then, almost a whisper, “you know, you can call me Ciri.”

* * *

The final battle is over. It has been for a peaceful few years. And yet, her mind stays restless, ready for the next enemy to come tearing through her life. So far it’s only been arrogant old men with predictable ambitions, which is pitiful compared to the ageless Aen Elle that had chased her through time and space, and the world-ending White Frost waiting at the end of it all. Really, they should step up their game if they want to make her sweat.

Her dreams made of frost and blood do most of the work for them. It's inescapable. Exhausting.

Every time she wakes from snow clogging her lungs, she sees Morvran had stirred awake in the night, and she apologizes with genuine-felt guilt.

Her husband is always polite about it, which is hard for her to accept at first. Experience tells her to expect a confrontation, or a fight about affecting him with her sleeplessness. But Morvran—she discovers quickly into their spousal arrangement—is quiet company, even if sometimes he seems a little on edge himself. A soldier's nervousness lies behind his gaze. The General without a war to fight. At least she’s not the only one struggling with peacetime.

They say that marriage forges a bond between two souls. That is what her father—of all people—tells her on one of their joint-breakfast mornings.

“There is a responsibility there," Emhyr says with enviable composure. "He is the only one’s opinion you must consult and rely on with matters of state.”

Ciri nearly scoffs. “Not even yours then?”

“Not even mine. Do you not trust him?”

She thinks long after that, a little angry with his nonchalance. Of course she doesn't. Of course it's not that easy. Ask any other lady or princess what their marriage gave them and see if any one of them bring up the word trust. Her father is biased. His own marriage had been sown by destiny's hand.

And yet, after the whispers of dark dreams rouse her at night, she does trust Morvran to be near, to remind her with his presence that she is no longer a child running from great and powerful enemies anymore. She is the daughter of the Black Sun. Nothing can touch her now.

Would be nice to sleep well again on her own soon, though.

Emhyr accepts her silence and sips his tea while it is still warm. He doesn't say anything about the dark circles under her eyes, and she doesn't talk about why they're there.

Geralt visits not a day after, the first time after her marriage, and he sure won't let it go unaddressed.

“I'm fine, Geralt. Haven’t slept well is all.”

That is all she's willing to say, not wanting to bother him too much when he'd arrived so happy to greet her. But it’s Geralt. He knows her better than anyone. Better than she knows herself.

"Haven't slept? You know what that does to your clarity of mind. And are you doing anything about it? Is it the mattress? I tell you, they make them too soft in the south. You need a little firmness to stop you when you're tossing..."

His fussing calms her heart. The opposite would be just as true. If he panics, all her own worries neutralize as she remembers how to think straight for him. They are each other's pillars.

So he frets, and she waves him off, feeling a little better by the second.

Tea together in the garden is a relaxing surprise activity with him, although now that he's brought up the topic of modern furniture and poor craftsmanship, Geralt is grouching about how uncomfortable the chairs are.

“They’re meant to keep your spine straight," she says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, and it’s crap. Doesn’t fit all of me.”

“That’s because you’re carrying fifty pounds of armor and steel. You might not want to rest all your weight on it actually.”

Geralt purposely leans back on his chair, the wood giving an alarming creak. “Are you calling me fat?”

She laughs at him so hard the Impera keeping guard from the garden's entrance twitch their heads to them. They act like a sign of joy from her is a terrifying dragon come to burn the palace down.

“I miss that,” Geralt mutters with a fake pout.

“What? My laughter?”

“Your…ease with it. I know being empress is nothing to scoff at." At the mention of her future court, Ciri touches her imperial diadem—both a symbol of her patrimony and a wedding band. Geralt tracks the gesture. The sigh he gives is heavy and long. "I mean, shit, this whole marriage thing attached to it isn’t what either of us planned for."

The metal warms under her rubbing thumb. "None of what's happened in our journey ever has been."

A witcher's path is unpredictable. One lives by the day and learns to adapt to what comes. And she's doing that still. Adapting like a witcheress. Soon, she'll have to start thinking more like an empress.

"The General," Geralt starts, and she refocuses on him and the serious set of his brow. "He’s a good man at least. A little…eccentric I think, but he is one of the better ones in Emhyr’s court.”

Now it's her turn to grumble, “I know. It’s annoying. I wish I could have a reason to hate him but he’s so…ugh, mannerly!”

This time Geralt laughs, and for a moment, Ciri is a witcher’s child in the wilds again, punting her father’s shoulder for a dumb joke he's pulled at her expense.

She stops suddenly when a familiar figure, all shoulders and dark colors to contrast his light hair, comes through the garden gates. 'Speak of the devil' might be a rude thought to have, yet it perfectly encapsulates how luck draws its cards on her this morning.

“Geralt of Rivia!” comes Morvran’s happy voice. “I thought I heard the rumble of bickering servants on the way here. Now I understand what displeased them so.”

“I’m not wearing their black-and-white cotton traps and you can’t make me.”

Ciri blinks between them. It surprises her how well Geralt gets along with him, and how openly joyous Morvran is being about his company—and yes, she would call him joyous even as his face is subtle in expressing it. Breaking courtly address would normally upset her recently-made husband no matter the suspect. And yet Geralt, who does not mean to do it intentionally, receives no such berating speeches on etiquette and formality. Actually, Morvran shakes his hand the northern way of greeting. Maybe he's good at adapting too.

“Of course not, sir witcher," Morvran says with his other hand raised in acquiescence. "There is no dire interrogation to fulfill at this hour.”

"Don't threaten me with a free clean shave again." To her, he offers a parting, “Alright. I've taken up enough of your time, I’m gonna head out.”

Her heart sinks at the cursory goodbye. This is her father in all but blood leaving her secure little bubble once more, to be a witcher without her. She is not a child anymore—he doesn't ruffle her ashen hair, though she dearly wants him to for old time's sake. It would mess up her diadem and the intricate plaiting of the braids behind her head.

She is not a child anymore, and yet she is already melancholy at the quick turn of his back.

"See you later, Geralt." Her words are a promise. We will see each other again.

As he steps into the flower path that winds back to the guards, Morvran calls out, “His imperial majesty is currently in a meeting.”

Geralt stops. He looks, for some reason, abashed. “What? Why are you telling me that?”

“I thought you would be privy to that information." Morvran shrugs in dismissal. "Va faill."

It's almost funny how fast Geralt stomps out of the garden. As Ciri observes the exchange, all her previous heartache is swept under the rug. There is something she's not picking up. Fortunately it's not all she has to talk about to her present, lingering company.

“It’s weird that you two actually get along.” At her words, Morvran turns to her with open surprise.

“Geralt of Rivia is a genial man," he says, his hands meeting behind his back as is Nilfgaardian custom in public. "I believe anyone would be glad to refresh their acquaintance with him.”

Ciri, who was not raised with said customs and is instead being tutored in them with little success, snorts. Loudly.

“You just like that you can rope him into joining a riding competition on a promise of free food.”

Under all his Nilfgaardian powder, Morvran blushes. She can see it in his ears.

She laughs at him too.

* * *

It’s another night of bad dreams. Her memories have toyed with her enough that now she is witness to futures she cannot control. Geralt alone on the Path, the Empire at war with itself from her negligence, all of her old friends, her family, broken apart and dying as she lives on.

She wakes slowly, not in a startle or a choked breath. Her body aches worse than if she had.

Morvran is already awake beside her, a frown set upon his lips.

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Between waking and the dissipating fear of her nightmare, Ciri is caught completely off guard. “I...didn’t, no.”

He doesn't explain any more, choosing to give her space as he's done for previous interrupted nights. Part of her wants to ask more. She wants to hear what she had said—what nightmare had she been speaking into existence. Did he recognize anything? Did he want to ask, but simply refrain out of properness?

Whatever it is she uttered in fever sleep, she lets it go. Talking about it now would be worse, somehow. Like making her nightmares a real, concrete thing.

Sleep still fights her long into the night. It does not come a second time. Which is good, as she opens her eyes to a timely assassination.

The weapon under her pillow slides into her hand not a breath later. She always keeps something sharp and deadly there. Good habit, both her fathers would say, for different reasons.

Before the assassin can strike, Ciri blinks in between time. They are dead where they stand, frozen mid-step, collapsing the very next instant time moves for her.

In the commotion that follows, everyone wakes. The emperor looks as regal and rested as always and Ciri envies that as her hair resembles a rat’s nest, mussed from the fear-sweat of her haunted sleep. At least Morvran is just as unkempt as her. They make quite the competition for most messy bedhead, side by side. And though the hours stretch on, from private meetings to argued suspicions, Morvran looks in his element. Her element.

Put an enemy in front of them and they will beat it down until it’s rid of.

Her mind is driven to this new task. Securing entry points, questioning any guards that had slack. Her edges feels frayed—sticking to Morvran like a shadow as they move from room to room, servant to official, order to action, way past sunrise. Her angry expression turns any worried servant away from asking for her imperial majesty to eat.

The assassin had tried to kill him. And no one seems to be that concerned since her own head is still attached to her shoulders. Not even Morvran.

Things calm down well past noon. They both return tired and dry-eyed to their arranged room.

She touches his sleeve and holds his weary gaze. “If you die I won’t forgive you.”

Morvran nods, like she makes sense. “I would never plan on it. It would upset your father.”

For a second, Ciri doesn’t know which one he means, and that makes her smile stupidly, at its pure truth.

She wipes her grin off before Morvran has a chance to politely appreciate it.

* * *

“You’re antsy.”

Ciri hums, taking a bite of her deviled eggs. “I'm not antsy.”

“You are bending the good fork.”

She stares down at her hand and finds that Emhyr is right and the fork is just a little twisted at the neck.

"I'm sure someone's job is to fix it. Just, call them."

Nothing in her posture or her expression could possibly tell Emhyr what sits heavy in her head, short of him being a mindreader. And yet, somehow, he pieces everything together correctly to ask, “Would it be so terrible for you to like him?”

Ciri sighs, looking up at the ornate chandelier, begging it to crash down on her and get her out of this conversation. Because she already does like Morvran, quite a lot, and it is terrible. She would hate to admit to her father that he is right. He’ll never live it down.

Of course, she doesn't need to say anything at all. Her godsdamned mind-reading father already knows. When did he learn to read her so effortlessly?

...Has he been consulting Geralt?

However it may be, Emhyr clears his throat and straightens his fork on his side of the breakfast table. “Some people," he says as she sulks internally, "are fortunate and marry the one they love. Others find a way to make it work.”

At his following pause, Ciri straightens in her seat to meet his gaze. His silences are always weighty and grave.

“I hope that he is worth the work,” he ends.

Then the moment passes, and he's eating again. Leaving her to contemplate alone what it means that her father, the emperor, might actually want her to be happy with the man who would share her rule once she is officially crowned. It's...it's trusting. It's too much to think about so early in the morning.

Being who she is, however, Ciri returns to the source of her sulk and the many questions it created.

“So, have you spoken with Geralt?”

Emhyr drinks his tea very slowly. “Of course not. Had he anything important to relay to me?”

“Maybe,” she shrugs. “I'm sure you know he came to visit recently, but you don’t ask me what we talked about?”

“Whatever it is you two get up to does not concern me.”

She hums, sipping her own tea. “It’s funny I guess, I thought you asked of him through Morvran.”

Emhyr sets his cup down, narrowing his eyes in thought. As he studies her, she keeps on sipping her tea until it’s finished. “Just curious,” she adds before parting for the day. Give him something to puzzle over that isn't her.

* * *

'Did you know you talk in your sleep?'

Only two nights of the next seven does she stir awake. Not from bad dreams, exactly. Not from dark memories or anxious fears either. Ciri rubs her face now, frustrated, pulled from sleep again for no apparent reason.

Morvran is awake beside her, as he always is. His face is not pressed with a frown, though. She can't stop thinking on his words so casually spoken the night an assassin tried to take him from her, and settles back onto her enormous pillows.

“...What did I say this time?”

“Oh,” he blinks at her, and it’s sleepy and lazy, not at all very general-like. “Something about a swallow. That you miss it. Did you used to own a bird?”

She closes her eyes briefly, oddly at peace with her sleep talking. He had listened to her secret fears for all these nights, her haunted screams, and made them his own secrets.

If she could trust him to know that, then, it is not so difficult to trust him with the more simple things.

“No. Swallow was the name of my sword. I carried her with me everywhere.”

“Ah. Where is she now?”

“I gave her to Geralt before I came to be here. A witcher’s sword is not something I can wield from a throne.”

He touches his hand to her cheek, the first time he’s breached courtly etiquette with her. It is warm and callused.

“I am confident that sir Geralt keeps Swallow sharp and oiled so that the blade stays strong. I am...sorry,” he says with more awkwardness.

She covers his hand with her own, a little laugh escaping her when he blinks rapidly at her returned touch, like he had not expected it at all. “It's alright. I entrusted her to him.”

Marriage forges a bond between two people.

#morvran x ciri #rarepair summer bingo #tt #myfics

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pleasse-hug-me · 4 years

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I’ve never really cared about politics. Never talked about ’em much. But then, last November, the strangest thing happened. Now, I don’t know if you’ve been following the news, but I’ve been keeping my ears open and it seems like everyone everywhere is super-mad about everything all the time. I try to stay a little optimistic, even though I will admit, things are getting pretty sticky. Here’s how I try to look at it, and this is just me, this guy being the president, it’s like there’s a horse loose in a hospital. It’s like there’s a horse loose in a hospital. I think eventually everything’s going to be okay, but I have no idea what’s going to happen next. And neither do any of you, and neither do your parents, because there’s a horse loose in the hospital. It’s never happened before, no one knows what the horse is going to do next, least of all the horse. He’s never been in a hospital before, he’s as confused as you are. There’s no experts. They try to find experts on the news. They’re like, “We’re joined now by a man that once saw a bird in the airport.” Get out of here with that shit! We’ve all seen a bird in the airport. This is a horse loose in a hospital. When a horse is loose in a hospital, you got to stay updated. So all day long you walk around, “What’d the horse do?” The updates, they’re not always bad. Sometimes they’re just odd. It’ll be like, “The horse used the elevator?” I didn’t know he knew how to do that. The creepiest days are when you don’t hear from the horse at all. You’re down in the operating room like, “Hey, has anyone…Has anyone heard–” [imitates clopping hooves] Those are those quiet days when people are like, “It looks like the horse has finally calmed down.” And then ten seconds later the horse is like, “I’m gonna run towards the baby incubators and smash ’em with my hooves. I’ve got nice hooves and a long tail, I’m a horse!” That’s what I thought you’d say, you dumb fucking horse.

And then… then… then you go to brunch with people and they’re like, “There shouldn’t be a horse in the hospital.” And it’s like, “We’re well past that.” Then other people are like, “If there’s gonna be a horse in the hospital, I’m going to say the N-word on TV.” And those don’t match up at all. And then, for a second, it seemed like maybe we could survive the horse, and then, 5,000 miles away, a hippo was like, “I have a nuclear bomb and I’m going to blow up the hospital!” And before we could say anything, the horse was like, “If you even fucking look at the hospital, I will stomp you to death with my hooves. I dare you to do it. I want you to do it. I want you to do it so I can stomp you with my hooves, I’m so fucking crazy.” “You think you’re fucking crazy, I’m a fucking hippopotamus. I live in a fucking lake of mud. I’m fucking crazy.” And all of us are like, “Okay.” Like poor Andy Cohen at those goddamn reunions. “Okay.” And then, for a second, we were like, “Maybe the horse-catcher will catch the horse.” And then the horse is like, “I have fired the horse-catcher.” He can do that? That shouldn’t be allowed no matter who the horse is. I don’t remember that in Hamilton.

Sometimes, if you make fun of the horse, people will get upset. These are the people that opened the door for the horse. I don’t judge anyone. But sometimes I ask people. I go, “Hey, how come you opened the door for the horse?” And they go, “Well, the hospital was inefficient!” Or sometimes they go, “If you’re so mad at the horse, how come you weren’t mad when the last guy did this three and a half years ago? You’re beating up on the horse when the last guy essentially did the same thing five years ago.” First off, get out of here with your facts. You’re like the kid at the sleepover who, after midnight, is like, “It’s tomorrow now!” Get the fuck out of here with your technicalities. Just ’cause you’re accurate does not mean you’re interesting. That was fun when we watched Beetlejuice tonight. “Don’t you mean last night? It’s after midnight.” Why don’t you get your sleeping bag and get out of my house! Take your EpiPen, take your goddamn EpiPen and get out of my house! But when people say, “How come you were never mad at the last guy?” I say, “Because I wasn’t paying attention.” I used to pay less attention before it was a horse. Also, I thought the last guy was pretty smart, and he seemed good at his job, and I’m lazy by nature. I’m lazy by nature too. So I don’t check up on people when they seem okay at their job. You may think that’s an ignorant answer but it’s not, it’s a great answer. If you left your baby with your mother tonight, you’re not going to race home and check the nanny cam. But if you leave your baby with Gary Busey…

And now there’s Nazis again. When I was a kid Nazis was just an analogy you would use to decimate your child during an argument at the dinner table. Now there’s new Nazis. I don’t care for these new Nazis and you may quote me on that. These new Nazis, “Jews are the worst, Jews ruin everything, and Jews try to take over your life.” It’s like, “You know what, motherfucker? My wife is Jewish. I know all that, how do you know all that?”

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percysbluepizza · 4 years

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Oh we ARE impertinent

okay since @annabetncnase asked for it, my big ole post, UNEDITED about the Lightning Thief Musical on Broadway. good luck to anyone who attempts to read this shit

ACT 1

Prologue/Day I Got Expelled

Alright so there is big boom lightning at the very very beginning of the show because Of Course there is? But it also comes with a huge flash of light, which startled liTERALLY everyone in the audience. Very fun, good use of technical effects. First guy on is James Hayden (Luke + Some) and he opens with the line. Then KRISTEN FUCKING STOKES (whom I have grown to ADORE) and the rest of the ensemble (Sally, Claiese, and Grover) come on and have this AMAZING choreography. They’re singing and all and then these curtains (which have been up and are on my pic) get pulled away from both sides by the whole onstage cast and CHRIS runs up and does this slide thingy to the very tippy top of the stage, where he sat for a moment, then turned to the audience and started. I about screamed and I’m not joking, he’s so expressive and such a great Percy (god I’m in love with him great work). As the song progressed, I was impressed by the ability with lighting use and all these cool stage tricks to have the Mrs. Dodds and also the pen/sword thing! Jorrel plays Grover so well, he’s so empathetic and caring toward Percy and I!!! So the whole story of him getting expelled is explained and god it is so fucking sad. Percy’s voice cracks. Percy’s fucking upset clearly and doesn’t understand and ouch…. ‘So if you think you are a half-blood’ is said so gently, and then THE DANCING. Chris can dance. Like well. Very well. So during ‘THis ain’t Odyssey’s Odyssey” he did a big ole kick and danced his heart out. SO good.

Strong

So obviously there’s some talking in between the first piece and this one, and there was a scene change when the lights went out and now they’re in Percy’s apartment with his mom and Gabe. Gabe is like… god you seem him and you loathe him bc he’s played so well. Percy sprays a chan of ‘aerosol’ at one point bc Gabe smells. And Chris just captures Percy’s compassion so well… He tells his mom that she doesn’t have to stay with Gabe and doesn’t deserve that and ugh so good. There are genuine blue marshmallows. and the way they did the little fire with the fog in the bucket and Percy’s mom’s comforting him hhh.

The Minotaur/The Weirdest Dream

The transfer to this scene/piece is very quick, Grover comes running in with a trash can over his head and he asks if Percy told Sally about the field trip and she said no and it was just a big mess of miscommunication. He basically gets to the point where he says the Minotaur is after Percy and holy shit. This boy is massive. And the design of it is insane and it’s got red eyes and wow. ‘I hope you’re really a SWORD” and he fight and it’s all just great. Sally goes away, Percy kills the beast and then ‘Don’t pass out…” Poseidon is in a tank top and a open Hawaiian shirt as well as flip flops and just “oh look, a man in a Hawaiian shirt’ He takes the seashell and is just the most confused. And then they bring in Annabeth, pushing her on one of those dolly things and she’s ‘floating’ and the whole thing is a big dream. Up until she tells him “You drool when you sleep” right and the thing is… the banner for CHB unfurls and the lights come back up and all of that and just it’s a true rude awakening. Then he looked around the camp and was so confused, Annabeth (beautiful, amazing, badass Kristin) started explaining what was happening and he had no clue. She then calls for Mr. D

Another Terrible Day

I don’t think you guys realize how good Jorrel is. Maybe you do but we stan Jorrel. But he comes out dressed in not matching clothes with a bright button up (pink) and plaid shirt, suspenders. He’s angry. Percy explains that he has no clue what’s going and everything’s getting explained to him with the other demigods. The other demigods are so cute and I love them so much. And he’s yelling through a megaphone. Jorrel can do so many roles so well and he did a great job. “You’re a horse?!” also he just clops. Like it’s human legs. Clip clop bitch. With a tail.

Their Sign

Again the transition from the first song to this second one is really fast. Chiron’s comforting but god is Percy angry. I love that tbh. Chris is clearly upset and he feels for Percy. And he shows it. He’s upset and then Percy’s voice goes all soft… Love that. Luke starts being buddy-buddy and showing him that it’s gonna be alright. Supposedly.

Put You In Your Place

Fucking. Sarah. Goddamn. I can’t believe how good she is. We stan so hard. Her fit? Great. Her voice? Belted. Awesome. Annabeth truly out here though. SHe’s intimidating as fuck and she knows what she’s about. There’s so much cool battle choreo in this scene and it just looks great. There’s blocking and stabbing and it looks awesome. Also that guitar riff that she comes in with is rad. And then the bathroom thing. Great. Percy’s cornered and it clearly shows that his powers came as a last resort with stress and the way they flashed the blue lights is just great I love that so fucking much. And they’re asking about the way he figured out those powers and they’re freaked out. Cool shit. Also “The plan would have worked either way.” Holy fucking shit. Annabeth is fucking scary as hell. She gives zero fucks about Percy at the beginning

The Campfire Song

The way they made the campfire is so cool! Very techy. And I didn’t realize they’re sitting around the campfire eating dinner together as a camp. Very family much love I’m a big fan. They’re putting the food into the fire and then complaining and I love it. Percy’s so sweet trying to talk about his mom and then come back around once they tell him what’s going on. Also they have a cute dance they do together. SO unified and lovely. And then THE FUCKING SIGN COMES. Percy’s sign. The whole thing. They’re looking and he’s like “Is that a fork?” “I’m the Son of Poseidon? sweet!) Everyone freaks out when they’re sure he’s a son of Poseidon. Percy is told to go see the “Mummy in the attic” “That’s old people talk for Mom, right?” Cue the Oracle.

The Oracle

This sounds so dumb but kinda like… found the Oracle impressive. Spooky. 10/10 Also… side note… Chris plays Percy with a lot of random mannerisms and movement and it’s really quite fun to watch. Anyway the Oracle is big spooky and she’s in a huge dress and she’s pointing to him and it has all the people who are in the next scene sitting there underneath and moving the dress. Big cool. And the vocals! Sis can sing. And it’s just beautiful bc then Percy has to see Mr. D and Chiron, the first of whom wants to turn Percy into a dolphin. “Percy you have no choice.” “You’re expelling me again?” Basically Percy is getting kicked out of camp bc of his unwillingness to do the quest. And there’s the transition to Good Kid my friends.

Good Kid

Guys oh fuck. Oh shit. Chris just really came out here to kill with the vocals tonight. And My heart? He kinda does a fist thing toward what would be the Big House and walks off to sulk, starting the song and walking around being angry ugh. He climbs up the back of the stage (which is essentially scaffolding) and sits at the end to deliver the sad part of the line when everything goes piano-y and soft and essentially that’s him sitting at the docks at the lake and watching the water. Luke later finds him (“If you’re a son of Poseidon, don’t hide at the lake, that’s where everyone will look.” and talks to him about the quest, where they figure out his mom would be in the Underworld if she was anywhere. Also there’s a trident where Percy is the middle prong and the other two are blue and shine on him UGH yeah

Killer Quest

“Yeah I’ll do it!” Was delivered so well, so sweet and innocent. This kid just misses his mom. Also since when did Luke and Percy get a bro handshake? Grover shows up with a bunch of bags and says he’ll go too (Luke’s chilling in the background) and he gives him the official questing backpack. I think Luke leaves at this point to get some shoes. Annabeth is there with a bag telling him that she’s going too and that her mom will be excited and they’re all dancing together and god I’m so emotional. They dance and they all work as a team so well great work you guys. And the lights turn out with them starting their quest!

Lost

Return from intermission with a literal bang, as there are three demon triplet math teachers on the bus, with Percy on top and Grover and Annabeth inside. The driver’s screaming, they’re screaming, Percy hops off the top and then fights the fury outside and eventually… The bus explodes, with confetti raining over the audience. Awesome. The piece of paper is in Annabeth’s bag pocket actually. And Percy’s trying to be a reassuring friend to Grover, who’s freaking out, and he’s trying to keep Annabeth safe too… ugh great stuff. They move all together when they say “We’re lost in the woods” for the first time. Their priorities really become clear later in the song when they talk about what they’re wanting. Grover could not be more enthusiastic about the squirrel. Also this is the first time we see Annabeth laugh at Percy “I think that’s kind of nuts” is the line and she turns around to laugh into her hand. PURE AS HELL. Wandering aimless through the forest occurs for a minute longer until Percy decides. This point in the musical made me realize that these kids are young. Like 11 or 12. I love that. I felt that in this one. The kids go into Auntie M’s art studio. Annabeth’s asked to take a picture and she’s checking her hair in her dagger, meanwhile Percy’s getting a bad feeling now and Grover’s looking more and more intently at Uncle Ferdinand. Percy is then asked to join in. No camera you say? MEDUSA REVEAL. They do a big battle and Grover ends up picking up Percy and swinging him around to cut off Medusa’s head. Which gets thrown in her own fridge for the time being. Grover leaves.

My Grand Plan

Bitch. This was the moment I teared up a lot. She sat down and started singing and I felt. I FELT. I’m depressed as fuck at the moment and I started feeling things bc of this damn song. Kristin Stokes I love you. Anyway, she’s singing and Percy intently watches, and she’s telling the gods to Wise Up by pointing directly to the sky. SHe’s saying BITCH YOU WILL NOTICE ME. And the pain in her voice when she explains her family situation. The soft part? She’s talking directly to Percy and looking at him, telling him what’s going on. Dear god did I feel. I’m so proud of her my queen Annabeth Chase. She finishes explaining and Percy says: “No more fighting” and she says “Not between us anyway” and they shake on it. I love that. Then Percy decides to have a little fun with the gods and boxes up Medusa’s head. “THey’ll think we’re impertinent Percy.” “Oh, we are impertinent.” He writes both Annabeth and his own name on that box and ships it via the Hermes express. Grover comes back in. “While you guys were in here not solving all our problems, I found these!” “Three Amtrack tickets!?”

Drive

We boarding the train. WE singing. Life is dandy again. Percy sticks his hand in a dog cage and it bites him. They take a tractor which is scaffolding tied to a wheelchair which a guy pulls. They meet Bianca and then they meet Ares after arguing with each other. Cool guy. Also Percy looks so free and proud of himself when he’s on the back of the motorcycle “I mean, look at where I am!” He’s so PROUD holy shit. Also they all put one foot forward during the different lines god the Choreography so fucking cute dear lord. Anyway they’re going and going and they meet Bianca who’s got braids and then they move on!!! I love them! I’m proud. They take another bus. “This time we just won’t blow it up.” They’re sitting on the bus (or train not really sure) and all asleep. Percy’s dreaming now. And Annabeth and Grover are also sleeping. Each is on a chair and it’s kind of cute tbh.

The Weirdest Dream (Reprise)

Percy’s standing there in his dream and he’s very confused. This is ‘scary” and I love that. He’s standing and listening to the these people in his dream talking. Kronos is so fucking scary they literally make him scary. His voice is so deep and spooky and fuck man. Luke’s talking to him (downward, into a pit, technically on the top of the scaffolding) and he’s in a cloak and Kronos says Percy’s name and the lights flash all sorts of colors and then he’s back in his seat. Chris does a bunch of spins until he gets back to his seat and Grover’s shaking him awake, saying he was screaming. Annabeth can’t sleep either. Everyone’s on edge. Thalia’s name was mentioned in the dream and Grover sits up straighter and says he hasn’t heard that name in awhile.

Tree on the Hill

Oh shit this was so emotional. So Grover explains that he didn’t tell Percy this any sooner because he was afraid Percy might not want him to come. Big sad. But he starts the song and let me tell you I never felt like crying more. So Grover’s narrating this story and Percy’s listening on the train and above them, like with the main bridge, Annabeth, Luke and Thalia are slow mo acting out the details of the story until Thalia becomes a tree. Thalia is the same girl that plays Clarriese, and every other character almost omg. But when he’s explaining her turning into a tree, Annabeth and Luke stand behind Thalia and become the branches. So symbolic and so beautiful. Percy comforts Grover and then it’s the last stop.

DOA

THis song. At first I didn’t like it on the soundtrack. Skipped it. But goddamn what a bop. The sparkly dress, the funky tunes, the control of all of the kids so they all dance together. Also dying in a really big bathtub. Yeah. Real. The way they did the elevator with the lights moving in the background was actually super convincing and I Loved that. The dress sparkles all over and all the other background people are in cloaks are dancing too, including James who makes this beautiful jump I love it so much. But they’re all scared and cornered against the light and then have to reconvene together. They all get up from the ground frazzled and then Percy’s shoes start doing something weird. His feet start flying away from him and he’s confused and freaking out and all of a sudden they’re in front of the pit. Oh god the pit was so cool. I thought the feet were shaking and it’s so cool and and the pit literally looks like a pit. I know they’re looking into a light but it’s so scary! The shoes go down into the pit and the tartar sauce joke is made. I love this. SO scary. AND BOLT REVEAL. The line that Percy’s says “betrayed by a friend’ that accuses Annabeth after she pulls the bolt from his bag. I gasped. And then Hades comes around and he’s in a sparkly jacket and says he’ll have his friends and his mom back if he gives him the bolt and then gives them a chance to decide. Everyone walks off stage and he stands there and debates.

Son of Poseidon

Percy’s mom comes out and tells him that what belongs to the sea can always return. She does a little loop around him and he spins in a circle and follows her for a moment. He starts singing and GOD CHRIS. He’s realizing that he has the shell and all that. He blows the conch and a blue light shines on the right side of the stage, the PORTAL. They jump through the portal and they’re all excited that they survived. Standing on the beach and Percy pulled new shoes out and starts putting them on. He tells them that they’re his two best friends and he hugs them close and fuck man the original trio feels. They summon Ares. Ares comes out and he’s fucking ripped and got a pipe. A literal pipe. They start fighting and it looks like they’re losing, Annabeth lost her dagger (which was strapped to her thigh goddamn) and Grover’s down, Percy’s lost his sword. “Percy get to the ocean” He runs to the stage, Kristin and Jorrel run backstage and deliver the blowers with TP. “How about a lot of it!”He yelled and theres the music and he’s relishing the moment, Chris is just giving it his fucking all and there’s a lot going on and I just.. Was amazed beautiful. Great work cast. Ares is washed away and then Percy says: “You can escort us, back to camp.” They’re escorted back.

Last Day of Summer

Percy is standing there and he’s stunned essentially. What does he do now? He gets a letter from his mom with her newest sculpture and that she’s going to school. Annabeth passes him and talks to him about going home and she calls him Seaweed Brain. He and Luke battle when he accuses Luke of being the lightning thief. Luke fucking says yes right and then STABS HIM after trying to convince Annabeth to pick the right side (his side) and she disarms him but he takes a knife and stabs Percy. He runs away, Percy’s on the ground, Annabeth’s at his side and holding him. She’s giving him emergency ambrosia as he’s dying and he looks like he’s gone but then he comes back. She says Seaweed Brain and he says Wise girl and hugs him to her and SHIT man.

Bring on the Monsters

Percy motivates the camp. Tells them it’s real, shits getting real and they need to get ready. He’s got his sword and his fresh stab wound and he motivates them to get going, all of them sing and then Chris does his beautiful solo thing and stands in front with his sword and they’re all singing in the background. When he maintains his line on the bottom people are passing back and forth around him and touching his shoulder as they pass him and he yells excitedly back next summer at one point. And they all stand together in the back and the spotlight hits him as he says he’ll be back next summer and the guitar ends. damn.

The curtains come up and they’re all there taking bows and I love them. Main points: these boys flexible, they’re all doing kicks and all sorts of shit like that, jumping up and down and dancing as well as singing, I’m very impressed. also Chris plays Percy so well. He’s got all the things that were in my head for Percy for all the quirks and ADHD and UGH I love that. Kristin rocked my fucking world and Jorrel played every character so cleanly and had such great vocals. I love them. I love them all. The end.

If you made it to the end of this fucking long ass post send me an ask or a message bc I’m proud of you and you deserve a reward

#julz talks #tlt musical #I am very emotional and in love with every single on of them #also... I wrote this right after the show so I was just FEELING my dudes

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thecleverdame · 5 years

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Sleepy Hollow - Chapter Five

Series Master List

Pairings: Sam x Reader, mentions of Dean x Jo

Summary: In 1799, specialized police constables Sam and Dean Winchester are sent from New York City to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of murders. Approached by the town’s council, the Winchesters discover the local residents believe that the murders are the work of a deadly Hessian horseman whose head has been mysteriously chopped off. With help from the beautiful Y/N Van Tassel, Sam Winchester’s investigation takes him further through the dark wood where more murders have been occurring. What Sam does not realize is that the mysterious Horseman is being controlled by someone in a sinister plot to kill the most suitable men in the village.

Warnings: Canon-level violence, murder, smut, horror, gore and a little fluff for good measure.

Words: 40k

Beta: ilikaicalie

This series is completed. You can read it on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

Cemetery

The lid of a muddy coffin is wrenched open, containing a headless corpse. The coffin is on the ground next to the hole marked by the headstone of Peter Van Garrett.

Killian holds a lantern and a spade. Sam, holding a handkerchief to his face, peers into the open coffin. Sam is in shirtsleeves and sweating holding a shovel. Young Masbath is watching uneasily. This is why Dean insisted Young Masbath would need a strong stomach as he gags, nearly vomiting. At Sam's nod, Killian replaces the lid. Killian has two men with him. There are two more coffins and two more piles of dirt, one coffin for Dirk Van Garrett and one for Widow Winship. Sam moves to the second coffin. It contains a headless corpse. Just the one. Sam nods, and the lid is replaced. The third coffin, the Widow's, is opened by one of the men. Sam takes a lantern and looks expectantly as the lid comes off. The Widow's headless corpse is alone in the coffin. Sam pauses as the lid is about to be replaced, he stops it. “Wait,” he holds out his hand, peering closer. Sam takes out a small penknife and cuts through the shroud, revealing her naked belly, dead grey flesh.

There’s one thought reeling through his head as he looks at the sword stab through the decaying stomach. Was she pregnant? There’s no way for him to tell, at least not out here in the muck.

Suddenly there is a screech, which seems to come from the corpse. Every man in attendance, including Sam, bolt upright.

“There,” Sam points. Off in the distance, there’s a corporeal dark figure holding a swinging lantern. For a moment it appears as if a ghost is approaching, only to reveal the Reverend Steenwyk who is stomping toward them in the downpour, shrieking in outrage.

“Sacrilege! Sacrilege!” the Reverend shrieks, raising his free hand into the air. Sam sighs, shaking his head. “ Science! Science! Reverend Steenwyck. Someone in Sleepy Hollow is using the Horseman story for his own murderous purpose, and I intend to dig it out.” Steenwyck froths, looking terrified at Sam’s declaration and backs off.

Doctor’s Residence - Medical Room Sam and Killian, helped by Young Masbath carry the Widow's muddy coffin inside. Doctor Lancaster watches in horror, sweating profusely, unsettled. “This is most irregular, Constable.” The doctor holds a handkerchief to his mouth. “I should hope so. But in this case, necessary” Sam watches as the coffin is set on a table in the middle of the room.

Sam takes a rolled velvet cloth from his satchel, unrolling it to reveal surgical instruments, some particularly strange, such as modified rib spreaders and curved clamps. Sam rolls up his sleeves. “I will need to operate.” “Operate?” Doctor Lancaster is white as a sheet. “She's dead!” Dean chuckles, offering, “when he says operate, he means, of course, he'll need the operating table. Lay her out, please.” Dean turns to Young Masbath. “Go on, nothing to be afraid of.”

When Killian and Young Masbath lay out the corpse, Sam opens their father’s journal, flipping through the pages as he studies the sketches in the ledger.

“There is a common thread between these victims.” Sam surmises, his finger trailing down the page.

“And what’s that?” Lancaster inches forward.

“Well,” Sam looks up his brother. “We don’t know yet. That’s why we’re here. Once we find the common thread the motive will reveal itself.” Dean leans in to watch Sam examine the corpse as Masbath retreats to the corner, ill at ease. “Once more, the neck wound is cauterized. The sword thrust to the stomach, the same as the others. But to what purpose?” Sam glances to Dean, gingerly feeling the corpse's stomach. The doctor watches, riveted, and Dean makes a note. His body language is telling, the old man knows something he hasn’t divulged.

“To what is your purpose, is the question,” Lancaster quips.

“What manner of instruments are those?” Lancaster peers closer.

“Some of my own design.” Clearing his throat, Sam raises a brow. He sorts through the instruments, looking to the corpse and conferring with Dean.

“You’ll need to open her up, no way around it.” Dean looks toward the boy who’s nearly gagging at the mention of such a horror. “We’ll have to ask you all to step outside. Thank you for your help, but if you do not mind my brother needs his concentration. It suffers when he’s observed.”

The men clear out and Sam pulls out a book of human anatomy from his bag, open to a pre-marked page. Picking up a scalpel he looks to Dean and they exchange a look of now or never as he cuts into the widow’s belly. - Doctor Lancaster is waiting outside, but he’s been joined by a crowd of men including Reverend Steenwyck and Notary Hardenbrook. They’re talking amongst themselves, appalled and aghast that the Constables would unearth a grave. The door opens and the Winchesters step out, wiping at blood covered clothes. All attention is on them and Dean turns to Sam.

“We’ve attracted an audience brother.”

“We have finished our examination,” Sam addresses the crowd.

“What in God’s holy name have you done?” Steenwyck is horrified. He points from Magistrate Philipse to the constables. “You are the word of law here! Put them in irons!” Philipse and the Winchesters exchange a look as Philipse nips from his flask. “And what did you find out, Constables?”

“We can confirm that there were not four victims but five. The Widow Winship was with child.” Sam nods, looking from man to man, watching for any reactions as the crowd murmurs.

“What of it?” Doctor Lancaster is visibly upset. “She should have been left to make her peace with God and not cut to bits by the Constabulary!”

“We don’t like it any more than you. But it was necessary.” Dean holds up both hands in a sign of peace. “The sword was thrust into the womb and no farther. A symbolic murder. It would appear we are dealing with a madman.”

Covered Bridge - Later That Night

Sam and Dean ride slowly beside each other across the covered bridge. The pale moon casts just enough light to illuminate the way. They’re lost in conversation as the clopping of hoofbeats is heard on the bridge behind them.

The brothers look at each other, both pulling their pistols. The hoofbeats stop, there’s silence as they look around, listening to the gentle chirp of crickets. “Is someone there?” Sam shouts, voice commanding. He learned a long time ago to never display fear, even when he feels it in his very bones.

“This place is getting under our skin,” Dean chuckles, tucking his gun into the waist of his trousers.

“I refuse to fall victim to their hysteria.”

“They’re scared,” Dean shrugs as they trot on. “Scared and uneducated.”

“There’s a healthy fear of the unknown but they take it beyond reason.”

“Careful, you sound like a snob. You don’t want to offend Miss Van Tassel with your ravings of logic and science.”

“Why would you think I am concerned about her opinion?” Sam snaps to attention in a vain attempt to conceal his interest. It’s no use, Dean knows, he always does.

“Because you sweat every time we’re near her,” Dean quips and Sam’s grateful for the darkness so his brother can’t see the blush in his cheeks. “We could stay, you know. We’ll put this Horseman business to rest and then there’s no reason we can’t linger for a few more days. I could enjoy the countryside, go hunting and you could enjoy...other things.”

“Perhaps.” Sam grins, “You know, even the lovely Miss Van Tassel believes in magic. My God, this place is a hotbed for delirium-”

From behind there is the clear sound of a horse snorting and the hoofbeats resume. Sam and Dean stop in their tracks, turning to look back. A figure appears, a figure on horseback slowly stepping out of the darkness of the bridge.

“Who are you?” Sam calls.

“Reveal yourself!” Dean shouts, raising his gun.

The horsebound figure comes into the moonlight, revealing a gargantuan black horse, smoke seemingly rising from its nostrils. On the beast’s back is a cloaked figure, headless.

“Oh my God,” Sam breathes slowly, unable to believe what his eyes can see.

“He’s real,” Dean whispers, looking from the figure to Sam. “Ride!”

They take off, hooves galloping as fast as the horses are able to carry them with the figure in pursuit. Both men whip the reigns faster and faster, but the horseman also picks up speed. “The forest,” Sam shouts, desperate to get off the main road.

The headless figure lets out a hellish cry of rage as the Winchesters look over their shoulders, tree limbs whipping their arms and legs are they ride through the thick forest.

Before Sam knows what’s happening a horrible face with flaming eyes and mouth is rushing toward him, hitting him square in the face. The impact knocks him clean from the horse, sends him sprawling to the ground in an explosion of ash and cinders.

“Sam!” Dean calls from somewhere behind him as he manages to get to his feet, the pounding of hooves all around him as several horses surround him. Sam looks down at the remnants of the jack-o-lantern and the smoldering trail. Suddenly the horseman is in front of him, Sam reaches for his pistol but it’s been lost in the fall. As he nears the figure throws off his cloak, revealing it as a disguise.

It’s Brom.

Several other men ride up, cackling to one another. Brom also laughs, but when he looks back, the smile leaves his face. He takes grim satisfaction in what he's done. Sam's face is haunted, running with the sweat of fear, shaking from the experience. He’s vaguely aware of blood running down the side of his face. “Sam! Sam!” A faint, familiar voice calls to him as his eyes roll back into his head and the world goes black.

Sam is standing in the middle of a field just outside a quaint cottage.

“Sam! Sam!” A beautiful woman appears in the doorway, holding out her arms. She looks like you as Sam first saw you, blindfolded. A young boy, no more than seven, runs toward her with a bunch of wildflowers.

Suddenly he’s in his childhood kitchen.

The blindfolded woman is playing the Pickety Witch Game with the young boy he now recognizes as himself. Young Sam is laughing, then scared as she grabs the air looking for him. He’s holding the wildflowers as she seizes him, kissing his cheeks as she takes off her blindfold. It’s not you, it’s his mother with her kind, lovely face.

Young Sam gives her the flowers and she places several in her hair, laughing and telling him how beautiful they are. She throws the remaining flowers on the fire, crouching and beckoning for him to come closer.

As the flowers burn they give off smoke fumes which his mother inhales like perfume, closing her eyes in trance. He watches, fascinated as she picks up a twig and starts drawing pictures in the dirt on the floor, strange designs in the layers of ash in front of the hearthstone. Suddenly Sam turns his head to the door, which is opening, strange though because no one is entering. Then he sees at floor level the family cat has come through the door. A black cat with a white paw.

Mary seems to be awakened by this, just in time as his father, John - a grim parson all in black, enters. The boy looks up, frightened and then Sam blinks and he’s back in his childhood bedroom. The black cat is on his bed, watching Mary entertain young Sam, who’s tucked into bed, with a bird-in-a-cage spinning disc toy. He’s amazed and overwhelmingly happy watching his mother spin the toy. There’s a bright flash of lightning and a mighty boom, the force of the storm sends the window pane flying open into the wall. The black cat leaps off the bed in the flashing light and the toy drops to the bed.

Young Sam covers his face, terrified and trembling as his mother hugs him close.

#sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester smut #Sam Winchester Fanfic #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester au

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inyournightmares97 · 5 years

Text

Her Dowry (Part 2)

The handsome Mr. Park Jinyoung is proud, haughty and says exactly what he thinks. He doesn’t need anyone meddling in his life… much less a spoiled and rich young heiress who is shamelessly in love with her own fortune.

Can two such selfish people ever find comfort in each other?

Warnings: Regency!AU, pretty much a Jane Austen fanfic with GOT7 lol. Angst, Fluff, some attempts at me being posh and using big words that might seem cringey. Please don’t ask when I’ll update because I’m trying my best!

Word Count: 4.2k

Read Part 1 here!

“There is no need to be too careful with those,” you called out to the footman in a breezy tone. “Feel free to drop them if they are too heavy.”

The carriage transporting Mr. Park Jinyoung’s belongings arrived late in the morning. You had been taking a walk with your dog after breakfast in the front gardens, when you noticed the full carriage rumbling up the stone pathway to the large manor. The footmen were currently struggling to take the suitcases up to the guest rooms. You stood to the side among the rose bushes and watched in displeasure. The little Pomerian on a leash beside you noticed your distress, and pawed at your skirts desperately.

“Come here, Snowball,” you cooed as you picked up the little fluffy white dog. She panted at you happily and licked your arm. “Do you see those packages there? They belong to Mr. Park Jinyoung. Now, we don’t like Mr. Park. So whenever you see him, I would like for you to growl at him and make it clear that he’s unwelcome here. Understood? What are you going to do?”

Snowball yipped at you happily.

“No, growl!” you ordered firmly. The little Pomerian merely blinked up at you, her tongue hanging out of her mouth in a cheerful pant. You sighed and patted her on the head. “I really should have gotten a bloodhound like Jackson but what could I have done? You were too adorable.”

Snowball licked you again and you laughed, putting her back on the grass. She danced about your feet happily. You spent a few minutes letting her attempt to jump in order to take a treat from your hand and clapped when she reached the required height. Snowball was munching on her biscuit, when the clip-clop of a horse riding up the stone path became audible.

Mr. Park Jinyoung had arrived on horseback. You watched silently as he rode up to the front of the manor, a classically handsome figure in a simple yet fashionable jacket. He dismounted gracefully and his dark eyes turned to you. You straightened while he approached you with a gentle smile and a polite bow.

“Miss Lim,” Mr. Park greeted you warmly. “I see you are out on a stroll. Isn’t the weather lovely this morning?”

“It was. I’m afraid a rather ugly dark cloud is passing by at the moment,” you commented drily. Mr. Park’s eyes flickered up towards the clear sky. His lips curled into a handsome smirk when he understood that you were not referring to the weather.

“Perhaps a dark cloud now and then is inevitable in life, Miss Lim.”

“I suppose it is. The important thing is that the cloud learns its place and does not ruin everyone’s fun by raining down upon them,” you quipped.

You were interrupted by a sudden tug at the leash in your hand. Snowball had darted forward and was now sniffing eagerly at Mr. Park’s shoes. You tried to pull her back in horror but Mr. Park Jinyoung only laughed. It was a very charming laugh, you had to admit, but a detestable one all the same.

“And who is this?” he chuckled, reaching down to pick up Snowball. She licked at his hands happily and you sighed. Stupid dog. Mr. Park laughed again as Snowball yipped at him. The corners of his eyes crinkled up fondly when he held her up to look at her. How could such a horrible man have such a mesmerizing laugh?

“Her name is Snowball,” you replied.

Mr. Park smiled as he set her down. “I see. A noble name, indeed.”

“Hardly. I named her such because she's round and white, as is evident,” you replied, tugging on Snowball’s leash to pull her back. She let out a small whine and pawed at your skirts sensing that she had upset you. “And I’m sorry to say that I don’t appreciate other people touching her. She’s a very delicate dog. I would prefer that you did not attempt to play with her.”

Mr. Park raised an eyebrow. “I am not ignorant of the fact that you clearly dislike me for some reason, Miss Lim. But asking me not to touch your dog is rather childish, is it not?”

You bristled. How dare this man! Not only did he insult your musical talent before your entire family but he also had the audacity to call you childish? How could a man who was relying on your hospitality and proclaimed himself a gentleman speak to you in such a rude manner? You glared at him and pressed your lips together tightly.

“Then perhaps I am a very childish woman, Mr. Park. You will have to excuse me. I am afraid you interrupted my morning walk. I am sure the housekeeper would be more than pleased to show you to your rooms.”

Mr. Park sighed. “My apologies. I will take my leave, then.”

You turned away from him and pulled Snowball along behind you, waiting until Mr. Park had disappeared inside the manor to pick her up and cuddle her to your chest. “There will be no more licking Mr. Park, do you hear me?” you scolded the little dog in a hushed voice. “If you lick him once more, you will not get your daily treats.”

Snowball whined and nuzzled her nose into your hand in apology.

“Dear, will you be going down to the assembly rooms this evening?” your Father asked you during lunch. You had spent most of the meal glaring at Mr. Park Jinyoung while he ate, and listening to Colonel Jackson rant about some of the antics the officers in his regiment indulged in. You were too busy brooding over your absolute hatred for the man who sat across from you to notice that your Father had spoken to you.

“Sorry, Father. I could not hear you over Jackson’s babbling,” you snapped.

Your Father chuckled. “I was only wondering if you intended to go down to the assembly rooms for the assembly this evening, my dear. It should be a lovely opportunity for Mr. Park to become acquainted with the society here at Portsmouth. The three of you had better go and have a dance or play some cards to entertain yourselves. Surely, it cannot be very enjoyable to spend your evenings here with me.”

You smiled at your father. “I like spending evenings here with you very much, Papa.”

Father chuckled. “Yes, but a young woman like you had much rather go and interact with the society in town, or you shall become an old maid before you know it. And it is our responsibility to introduce Mr. Park to the society here.”

Jackson smiled and nodded. “Of course! We certainly cannot miss the assembly. I will introduce you to some of the officers, Mr. Park, they’re all extremely fine fellows and they play an excellent hand at cards. The society here is almost equivalent to that in London. We lack nothing. And I’m certain you may find a beautiful woman or two to tempt you into a dance!”

Mr. Park nodded with a smile. “It sounds very pleasant. I should be delighted.”

“I will call for the carriage to take us there this evening!”

You huffed and folded your arms across your chest in irritation. You didn’t want to go to the assembly rooms. This was all because of Mr. Park. You gave him one final glare to which he responded with a simple, smug smile.

The assembly rooms were where the cream of society gathered on scheduled evenings to gossip, gamble, dance and flirt. Colonel Jackson’s regiment was currently in town so there were a significant number of officers crowding the card tables this evening. Beyond the card rooms was the dining room where tea and supper was served, and beyond that was the ballroom for dancing. Everyone was dressed very fashionably but you were evidently the best-dressed woman in the room. You smiled to yourself as you smoothed down your expensive silk dress with your gloves.

Jackson was instantly distracted by his fellow officers at the cards tables, and he persuaded a very reluctant Mr. Park to join them for a game. You merely greeted the officers politely and then moved onwards to the supper room.

“Oh! Miss Lim!”

You turned with delight at the familiar voice. The woman who hurried towards you was one of your best friends; Miss Kim was dressed very prettily in a light pink dress and she wrapped her arm around yours eagerly as soon as she saw you. You smiled back at her.

“Oh! What a relief that you are here, Miss Kim! I thought I was going to have to spend the evening alone and miserable.”

She giggled. “Of course I am here! My brother is in town for some business and I simply had to come and visit my dearest friend. I was going to call on you tomorrow if you did not come to the assembly rooms tonight. Oh! But we must sit down and talk. How could you not even write to me about your brother’s wedding? It was so shocking to have to see it in the papers!”

You followed her eagerly to a pair of vacant seats. “I would have written to you if I’d known myself,” you replied bitterly. “I was completely unaware that Jaebum was even courting anyone. He merely wrote to say he was engaged and then two days later, he and his bride had arrived from London with her family in tow. Oh! It’s so unpleasant and painful! Miss Park smiles far too much and her brother is the rudest man I have ever met!”

Miss Kim’s eyes shone. “Ah! That Mr. Park! I have heard that he is very handsome.”

You pouted at her. “If you flirt with him I shall never forgive you.”

“I would never! You know that I have eyes for no man other than your brother, Colonel Jackson. I do sincerely hope that if he should decide to marry someday, you would not allow me to find out through the papers. I really may just die of heartbreak!” she cried dramatically, before the two of you burst into giggles.

Miss Kim had been harboring a fancy for your brother for years now but he never showed her any affection beyond what he would show any other woman. She took the rejection surprisingly well, so you doubted whether her affections were very serious. “Oh! But there is a surprise for you here tonight!”

You blinked. “Oh? And what might that be?”

“Mr. Choi Youngjae is here,” she told you with a teasing smile. “That kind, gentle soul whose heart you constantly trample upon with your leather slippers. I would not be surprised if he came here tonight in the hopes of meeting you. Perhaps he will attempt to propose again!”

Your smile fell. “I should hope he does not. It was difficult enough to persuade him not to do so last season. An official proposal should only serve to embarrass us both.”

Miss Kim looked at you sympathetically. She loved you, but it was difficult for her to understand your behavior.

“Do you really have no intention of accepting him? He is such a good and kind man. Everyone in society loves him and he seems to care for you greatly. He is among the few other eligible men in town. And you are always so determined not to go to London for the season and meet new men. Where will you find a husband if you insist on locking yourself up away inside your home like this? A man is not going to come knocking at your front doorstep.”

You bit your lip. “Then I shall not get married.”

“But why?” she insisted. “Come to London with Mother and I next month. I insist. There are so many wonderful men and I shall have my brother introduce you to them all.”

“Oh? And if there are so many wonderful men then why do you still pine after Colonel Jackson?” you teased.

Miss Kim flushed. “Oh! True love is another matter entirely, my dear. Perhaps I should have been successful in my love if his sister had been a little kinder to me and done a better job recommending me to him… but we are not all so lucky,” she sighed as you laughed. She was constantly bemoaning that you did not do more to draw your brother’s attention to her. “How can you laugh at my despair, you terrible friend?”

You smiled. “Because I do not believe that you are truly despairing, Miss Kim.”

“Well, then!” she stood up, playfully offended. “I shall take my leave now. It is my intention tonight to extract a dance from Colonel Jackson without your help and I will be grateful if you should refrain from interfering. I would rather not end up an old maid.”

“He is at the card tables. You will have to tie him to a pair of horses to drag him away from there. Good luck, Miss Kim!”

Miss Kim giggled and hurried away to the cards room, hoping to find a seat at the same table as Colonel Jackson. You smiled at your silly friend. She had already lost a good amount of money to your brother at the card tables in the hopes of capturing his attention, but Jackson only laughed at her and took her money and never asked her to dance.

You were watching Miss Kim disappear into the next room when you heard a pair of elderly ladies talking at a table nearby. They were sipping their tea and looking at you with distaste. As is common with elderly women who are hard of hearing, they spoke so loudly that it was impossible for you to not overhear their conversation.

“Look; she has come alone again. How terribly inappropriate for her to attend such social events without a female chaperone. Does her father think it is appropriate to send her here with only her brothers? A young woman who has only been out in society a few years?”

The other woman scoffed. “For shame. That girl will find herself in a scandal soon enough. Nothing good comes of letting a young woman with a fortune of a dowry run about in such a loose and careless manner. Who would marry her? She has never had any decent gentlewoman to teach her how to behave. ”

You took a deep breath and clutched your handkerchief. Your eyes flickered sharply over to the elderly women, who fell silent the moment they realized that you were glaring at them. Disgusting creatures. They were so old and withered and wrinkled that they had nothing to do but comment on other women. It was not the first time they had said such things about you, nor the first time that people had commented on your lack of a female chaperone for these events. Your mother had passed away while giving birth to you and you had no aunts, no close female relatives to take you under their wing. The only woman available to accompany you to social events had been your governess; and she had left once you were too old to require one.

You merely glared at the women and turned back to your cup of tea. They could only dream of owning the amount of money that you possessed as your dowry. You knew better than to be affected by their envious words.

Mr. Park Jinyoung entered the supper room just as you were finishing your tea. He seemed slightly lost and uncomfortable. You smiled to yourself at the sight of him looking around blankly until he finally spotted you. Your smile fell when he made a beeline for you and took the empty seat beside yours.

“Miss Lim,” he greeted you politely.

You raised an eyebrow as you sipped your tea coolly. “Is it not extremely inappropriate for you to sit beside an unmarried woman such as myself at a social gathering? I believe propriety demands that we be accompanied by a chaperone.”

Mr. Park raised an eyebrow. The bored tone of your voice indicated that you did not truly care about the absence of a chaperone, but were merely attempting to find some fault in him.

How could a woman as beautiful as yourself could be hiding so much hatred inside? It seemed impossible, but your words only became more poisonous with each conversation you shared. He sighed.

“I am afraid it would be much more improper for me to approach anyone else at this gathering, since I have not been introduced to them. You and Colonel Jackson are my only acquaintances here. I am certain that I shall cause less offence by sitting with my sister’s new family than by approaching someone who does not know me at all.”

You sighed. Unfortunately, Mr. Park was not wrong. “I suppose so.”

Mr. Park smiled. “And is the purpose of a chaperone not merely to ensure that a young man and woman do not cross the boundaries of ordinary acquaintance? I am certain there is no danger of that here.”

You gave him a sharp look. “Certainly not. Although I wonder why you do not choose to stay by my brother’s side; he is surely the more pleasant company.”

Mr. Park sighed again, a hint of discomfort appearing on his handsome features once more. “Colonel Jackson’s company is excellent but I have no desire to lose more money at the card tables. Gambling has never caused me much enjoyment. I prefer not to push my luck, what with me having so little of it in the first place.”

“One would not look at your face and deem you a man of meagre luck, Mr. Park.”

Mr. Park raised an eyebrow and his dark eyes twinkled. You were irritated at how handsome he was and how aware he seemed to be of his own god-given charms. There was no use denying that Mr. Park Jinyoung was extremely attractive. However, once one overcame the deceptive barriers of his perfect face and handsome countenance, it was not difficult to identify Park Jinyoung’s many flaws.

“Is that a compliment, Miss Lim? I am flattered.”

“Not as much of a compliment as you might imagine, Mr. Park. I tend to place more importance in aspects of a person that cannot be covered by luck; such as manners, good-breeding and most importantly, benevolence.”

Mr. Park laughed. “Benevolence! Surely?”

“You do not believe me?” you demanded. “Or do you think my own character to be so lacking in benevolence that it is absurd for me to expect it from others?”

“Indeed; I have no idea how benevolent you are.”

“Let me assure you that I am extremely benevolent!” you insisted firmly. “A necessary quality in a woman who possesses as large a dowry and such excellent prospects as I! A woman with such a large fortune and natural beauty must do everything in her power to share her gifts with those less fortunate in this world.”

“I see you are very inclined to charity, then.”

“Indeed. We live in a world where beauty and a large dowry are the most powerful things any woman can possess.”

Mr. Park Jinyoung's smile suddenly changed; the curve of his plump lips was more forced than it had been earlier. He nodded silently. There was a brief and unpleasant silence which was interrupted by the arrival of another gentleman at the tea table. The only person in the entire city of Portsmouth before whom even Mr. Park was preferable.

Mr. Choi Youngjae.

“Miss Lim!” Mr. Choi greeted you politely and kindly, with a bow. His manners were impeccable and he was always well-spoken and kind, but his sudden appearance made your stomach turn. “It is so wonderful to see you here this evening. Please; allow me to convey my apologies at being unable to attend your brother’s wedding. I was detained in London.”

You smiled politely at Mr. Choi. “Of course Mr. Choi; I am certain that my brother understands completely. There is no need for your apology.”

Mr. Choi smiled hopefully. “Yes. Thank you. I was wondering, Miss Lim, whether-”

“Mr. Choi, have you yet had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Park Jinyoung? He is the younger brother of Miss Park; or should I say Mrs. Lim now, the woman whom my brother has had the fortune of marrying. He is staying in Portsmouth for some time on business. Mr. Park, this is Mr. Choi Youngjae. A good friend of mine and a businessman who often comes to Portsmouth to do his business,” you explained hurriedly.

The two men shook hands politely and exchanged perfunctory greetings. Mr. Choi’s eyes were fixed on you and you knew that he was hoping to speak to you alone. You could not allow that to happen. You quickly rose from your seat and gave the two gentlemen a polite smile.

“Well; since you are now acquainted, I hope that you will find some topic of conversation suitable to both of you. I am on the lookout for my good friend Miss Kim, so I will excuse myself,” you curtsied politely and hurried out of the dining room.

The two men blinked after you in surprise.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Park Jinyoung could not help but feel a little pity for Mr. Choi.

The young man had evidently approached in the hopes of obtaining your attention, but you had hurried off and left him to converse with a near stranger. It only took a few minutes of conversation with Mr. Choi for Jinyoung to determine that the man met all of your expectations in a person. Mr. Choi had manners, good breeding and plenty of benevolence. He heard of Mr. Park’s hopes to avail of certain business opportunities in the shipping industry and immediately offered his assistance.

“I would be very glad to see you at my offices soon, Mr. Park!” Mr. Choi said welcomingly with a large smile. “We would have a much easier time discussing business there than in this noisy environment at the assembly rooms. I am based out of London for the majority of the year, unfortunately, but I do travel to Portsmouth often. How long do you intend to stay here?”

Mr. Park bit his lip. “I do not know; I am currently residing at my sister’s home on the Lims’ estate. If business goes well then I may need to look for some more permanent residence so that I do not impose upon their hospitality. If not, then I shall return to London to stay with my mother.”

Mr. Choi nodded. “Indeed; I look forward to furthering your acquaintance in either city.”

“May I ask if you are closely acquainted with the Lims?” Mr. Park asked curiously. Although he did not want to interfere in your personal business, he felt extremely curious about your evident desire to avoid such an amiable and harmless young man. It was one thing to detest Jinyoung, but what problem could you possibly have with Choi Youngjae?

Mr. Choi blushed at the sudden question but there was something disappointed in his expression. “Ah; I have never had the pleasure of meeting Lord Lim himself, but I am acquainted with Mr. Lim Jaebum in passing and have also had the pleasure of losing to Colonel Jackson at cards. As for Miss Lim, well, I uh, I happened to meet her while she was in London a few years ago and we have continued our acquaintance since then. She’s a very charming and beautiful young woman.”

Mr. Park nodded. It was clear to him that Mr. Choi Youngjae was interested in you. He cleared his throat and smiled. “Well, am I to believe that some sort of congratulations will be in order in the near future?” he wondered.

“Oh! No; that is, I don’t think Miss Lim has any such inclinations,” Youngjae admitted. His cheeks flushed red fiercely. “She has told me quite firmly that she has absolutely no intention of marrying and leaving Portsmouth to live far away. I… I had rather hoped that she would compromise but the truth is that my estates and business are primarily located in London and there is nothing much that can be done about that. I do travel down to Portsmouth a few days in a year but that is…”

Jinyoung blinked. “I suppose it’s not sufficient for our spoiled young Miss Lim.”

Mr. Choi’s eyes widened. “Oh!”

“Surely, Mr. Choi, you cannot be so blind to the fact that the woman you are pursuing is indeed rather spoiled?” Jinyoung demanded. “She speaks to people just as she pleases and has no qualms boasting of the size of her dowry in public!”

Mr. Choi Youngjae smiled. “I see you do not understand Miss Lim very well yet.”

“Don’t I?”

“Indeed you don’t,” Mr Choi replied. “It is human nature for us to be proud of what we have, Mr. Park, especially when deep down we know that there are many other things we lack. Miss Lim has been deprived of a great many things that most young ladies have. I suppose we may let her have her dowry, at least.”

Jinyoung frowned.

What could a rich and beautiful heiress with a loving family possibly lack?

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#got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 scenario #got7 fanfiction #got7 regency #park jinyoung #got7 jinyoung #got7 jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung scenario #jinyoung regency!au #jinyoung angst #jinyoung fluff #got7 angst #got7 fluff #got7 imagines

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marshmallow--3 · 5 years

Text

Imagine - celebrating Mothering Sunday with Emmett and Jacob Frye.

TW: pregnancy, children, marriage

A few things I want to apologise for in advance:

If you feel there's gender roles here of a female nurturer & a male breadwinner. That's not my intention, the Reader does everything with her child because she wants to, not because she's expected to. And Jacob does do his share, it's just not shown in this particular story. He goes away during the day because y'know he's a gang leader and he has a city to check up on, so that's why it has that "Father is going to work and coming home when dinner is ready" feel. Again, no negative intentions.

If the mention of children and pregnancy upsets you in any way, or if it suggests that all the Reader exists for is making Jacob's babies, or that life only has meaning if you have children. I promise that's not the intention, but it's a Mother's Day piece, so she kind of has to be a mother.

***

"Now, lad, what do we say when we open that door?"

Jacob smooths down the creases in his son's shirt, crouched to the four-year-old's height as he preens his appearance.

"We say, um we say, 'Happy Birfday!'"

"No, Emmett. We say 'Happy Mothering Sunday.'"

The child blinks, bamboozled. He eyes up the breakfast and flowers that are typically reserved for his mother's birthday.

"Happy Birfday," he maintains.

Jacob sighs. Having been at it for the past twenty minutes, he surrenders with a chuckle and a pinch at his son's ruddy cheek. Passing Emmett the bouquet of flowers, definitely not trusting the child with a tray full of fine China; barely trusting himself with it, if he's honest, he knocks on the bedroom door and nudges it open, retrieving the tray of food and following Emmett close behind.

"Happy Birfday, Mummy!"

You stretch in bed with a yawn, just managing to shuffle into an upright position as you cradle the bump at your stomach. You raise your eyebrow at your husband quizzically, whose expression simply reads don't ask, I tried.

Emmett crawls onto the bed and passes you the beautiful bouquet of yellow tulips; you smile sincerely as they're your firm favourite, not just for their bold colour or exquisite honey smell, but for their meaning too - there's sunshine in your smile. It was the first thing Jacob noticed about you when you two first met, and he never fails to bring it up whenever possible.

You gush your thanks, taking the flowers from your son and resting them in one arm as your other is instantly tackled with cuddles. He kisses your cheek once then presses his cheek against your bump, greeting his unborn sibling.

"Happy 'Birthday', I suppose, love," Jacob chuckles, approaching you with breakfast.

The salty smell of poached kippers tantalises your nostrils, making you inwardly urge your partner to cross the room quicker so you can tuck in. Accompanying the fish is a few slices of buttered bread and a shiny apple, a mug of fruit juice at the side, none of which particularly appeal to your queer tastebuds now you're with child. But you're thankful Jacob supposed as much, as there's a mountain of fish compared to the few slices of bread.

In the early hours of the afternoon, Jacob kisses you both on the cheek and leaves for duty. Usually it's without a timeframe of when he'd be back, but he promises to be back around dinner time.

Emmett crawls onto your lap and curls around your bump, getting comfortable for the story he picked out for you to read, The Princess and the Goblin. You had began reading it to him a few nights ago, and are approaching the end of the book. One scene is admittedly terrifying, and the way he drapes his arm around your bump and buries his face in your side has you questioning if he'd like you to stop.

Shaking his head, he declares, "I'm not frightened, Mummy. But the baby might be."

Chuckling, you pat your hand over his, realising his action was one of protection as opposed to fear.

Upon reading the final word, you close the book with a deep breath and glance down at your son to gauge his response. His face is swimming with emotion, opening his mouth and closing it soon after, rendered speechless by the ending of the story.

You gently press him closer, rocking him in your arms as you ask him what he'd like to do next.

"Another!"

"Another? What would you like to read next?"

His face scrunches up in contemplation, before answering, "Your book."

"My-- oh."

You don't know how he found out about that.

For the past few months, you've been working on a picture book to gift to him on his fifth birthday, the age his Assassin education would formally begin. Colluding with Henry Green, a good friend, in-law and uncle to your offspring, you whittled the history of the Brotherhood down to the basic facts so that it might be comprehended by a child. Your skills as an artist helped make it even more accessible, decorating the pages with watercolour paintings of famous figures and eagles, one of the symbols of the Assassins.

Emmett waits patiently for your answer. Realising there's no point in hiding it since he already knows about it, and reasoning he's almost five years old anyway, you agree and fish it out from its hiding spot in a nearby bookshelf.

Returning to your previous position, you open the book and begin reading a page about an Italian brother, "Ezio Auditore."

"Essio?"

"Ezio, darling."

"So that's Essio," his finger points lightly at the sketch of the hooded man with olive skin, skimming across the page to another drawing of his beret-sporting friend.

"Who's that?"

"That's Leonardo da Vinci."

He whoas and absorbs the information you relay to him, his eyes as wide as saucers. He sits in silence for a while as you read, before fidgeting in your lap and looking up at you.

"Mummy?" You hum in response, turning the page to a hidden blade. "Can I be like Daddy some day?"

You pause, mulling over the best way to word it. It's a topic that has cropped up often between you and Jacob, and you eventually came to an agreement that it will ultimately be Emmett's choice once he's old enough to make such a huge decision.

"You can be whatever you want to be, darling. If you want to do what Daddy does, then you can. But you must know that no one is forcing you."

He seems satisfied with your answer, staring into space with a pensive gleam in his eyes.

The final grains of sand trickle down the hourglass on the table next to you, indicating it's time to finish prepping dinner. Dismissing your son for play with a gentle nudge on his shoulder, you rise and busy yourself in the kitchen.

Having inherited your creativity, Emmett sets his eyes on fixing up his very own gauntlet, scrambling through his drawers for the right materials. Finding a wooden ruler, he measures it next to his forearm and grins, tying it to his arm with several socks. The end of the ruler just sticks out past his wrist, which he flexes, testing the security of the ties.

Scanning the room for his first target, his eyes land on a teddy bear propped up on his pillows.

"Prepare to die, Teddy!"

Stone-faced, he charges at the stuffed toy and pokes its squishy belly with the tip of his pseudo-blade, his composure soon breaking as he erupts into a fit of giggles.

Emmett continues for a time, leaping and pretending to eliminate his toys, until the familiar clip-clop of hoofs halt outside the house. Peering out of the window to catch sight of his father dismounting the horse-drawn carriage, he rejoices at his safe return, bounding down the stairs and waiting eagerly in the hall with his gauntleted arm behind his back.

Opening the door, Jacob beams at the welcoming party, carefully pulling him in for a hug. He feels something press against his stomach, the vibration of his son snickering before pulling away to flaunt his hidden blade.

"You're dead now!"

Jacob clutches his gut where he was poked, his jaw dropping as his eyes grow wide. Coughing melodramatically, he slumps on the floor and fakes groans of pain, exclaiming just how much agony he's in. Emmett stands over him, his childlike chortles contagious.

Jacob adopts a weak voice, spluttering, "You may have taken my life... But you will never have my dinner!"

"Daddy, no! Don't leave me alone with Mummy!"

"Charming!" You scoff playfully, having watched the scene unfold from the doorway. Both boys look up at you, your arms crossed and your eyebrows raised.

"Come along, now, children." You stress the final word while smiling sweetly at Jacob, a veritable child in disguise if ever you met one. "Dinner's nearly ready."

After a delicious beef dinner, admittedly not as exquisite as usual with the cook at home for the day, Emmett excuses himself, tugging on his father's sleeve and silently giving him a look which has him exiting the room with him. Glancing at his plate, you're surprised to see he's eaten all his vegetables, pondering what he's up to disappearing so abruptly. Your brooding is cut short when he reappears, carrying a sponge cake in his steady hands.

You're lost for words, suspiciously eyeing up Jacob as he lays dessert plates down on the table with a cake server, helping your son lift the cake onto the table too.

"Did Daddy make this with you?"

Emmett bursts out laughing, perhaps aware even at his young age of how preposterous that idea is. Jacob pouts, feeling somewhat picked on.

"No, Auntie and Uncle helped me."

You tilt your head, absorbing the details of the cake and smiling at the indulgently sweet smell of vanilla and jam filling your nostrils with every inhale. Though you originally found yourself craving nothing but salt since you first came to learn of your expectancy, your stomach has seemingly just changed teams, growling and demanding all the sugar it can get. Powdered sugar has been sieved over the top of the cake, most likely through a stencil as the crystals form the shape of flowers in a ring.

You make a mental note to thank your dear in-laws later, quite eager for now to tuck in and sate your sugar-hungry stomach.

The staff return a few hours later, a fresh glow noticeable in their cheeks. Clearly the day off has done them the world of good, though they're quite eager to return to their work. Your maid even offers to bathe Emmett and let you relax for the evening, but you politely decline her offer, happy to oversee his bedtime routine yourself.

After fighting with him over the removal of his gauntlet, he's soon bathed, dressed and tucked in to bed. You sit at his side, stroking his hair and singing him to sleep, pressing your lips against his forehead upon hearing the pace of his breathing change. Rising, you linger at the doorway, thankful for such a good and sweet child. He's out like a light, letting you close the door behind you and turn to face your husband.

Jacob smiles and holds his arms out, wrapping them around you once you've closed the gap, resting your cheek on his shoulder. He enjoys the peace of holding you for a few beats before breaking the silence, telling you to meet him in the bedroom for his gift.

"More gifts? Jacob, darling, you've spoiled me enough for one day."

He falls silent.

You lift your head to face him, noting his dark eyes and seductive expression.

"Oh..." You mumble, blushing from the naïvety of missing his euphemism. "That kind of present."

He winks now that you've caught on.

"Yep," he whispers against your ear, his whiskers scratching the side of your cheek. His voice is low and purring, "That kind of present."

@sassenach-on-the-rocks @katbernoulli @winterwriter8845 @thank-god-its-fryeday @yourchepazworld @iceboundstar @the-purple-rook @lcvingvincent @balladofthesadcat @assassins-and-hidden-blades @ladye11e

If you spot any mistakes, feedback is always welcome ♥️

#assassin's creed #imagine #jacob frye #self shipper #self ship #sexy victorian man #jacob frye x reader #jacob frye x y/n #jacob frye imagine #jacob frye x pregnant! reader #Mother's Day 2019 #mother's day

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shewolfofficial · 5 years

Text

Levi x Reader Parent! Au

For the sake of naming the kids:

Julia- 4yr old, youngest girl

Isabel- 6yr old, elder sister

James- 13yr old, eldest sibling of the four

Farlan- 8yr old, second oldest

Warning: Cursing

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Levi trotted throughout your hometown, horse hooves clip-clopping off the stone pathway as the bright sunlight beamed down from the clear blue ocean like skies misty with white puffy clouds. Scouting cape resting easily on the back of his horse- hood down, his firm yet gentle hold on the reigns didn't falter. He had been planning on visiting you and the little messers for some time now but being Captain of the Survey Corps wasn't easy and never really gave him the chance to go home to his family.

It had been nearly three months since Levi had been in T/N, he had left you with four little rascals that would play and mess around non-stop. Though feeling guilty he couldn't have done anything about it until Erwin finally let him go for a week or two at the most. You had no clue about Levi returning and that's how he would like to keep it- to surprise you.

Finally arriving outside that cosy familiar house he'd given you and the children, Levi hurried and set his horse in the small stables by the side of the house before returning to the front door where he took out a key and easily slipped it into the lock and clicked open the door. As he opened the door quietly- lively giggles of his two little girls rung throughout the house as he stepped inside, his boys were most likely playing out in the back garden on the little jungle gym he had set up while you were still pregnant nearing three years ago.

The frantic padding of footsteps came from the living room that was near the front door, soon his four year old came bounding out with a cheery smile wearing a small pink and white dress accompanied by a beautiful ribbon wrapped around the waist trailing behind her. Upon seeing her father in his military outfit she squealed in delight and took his leg in a right hug before happily calling out.

"Daddy!" She giggled as more voices echoed throughout the house.

"Holy shit, dad's back?"

"DAAAADD!!"

"Wait what? Levi?"

Levi scooped Julia up in his arms and pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek with a miniature smile as she wrapped her small arms around his neck in a hug. Walking towards the kitchen Levi teasingly rose a brow to you before setting down Julia as you took another second or two to render what was happening. He knew you were still figuring shit out since you instantly froze- in the middle of making dinner before a happy grin etched onto your face as he huffed in amusement before letting you take him into one of your bear hugs. "Jesus F/N you're killing me" Levi grunted earning a soft laugh on your behalf. You pulled away and kissed him which he eagerly returned before you were interrupted by two other voices.

"Dad and mom are kissing! Dad and mom sitting in a tree-!"

"Shut up Farlan, get back to reading your book you dingus"

You both pulled back as Levi turned to see both his little boys standing by the back door, James and his younger brother Farlan looking at him with miniature smiles. Both boys looked exactly like Levi except for the fact that Farlan had your eyes and James had your hair colour. Farlan wore one of his dad's old Scouting capes while clutching a book at his side like the little bookworm he is and James had his little football resting by the door.

"Seems like you two have grown up somewhat, even though you're still as tiny" Levi's playful teasing came in as both younger boys rolled their eyes and took their father in a hug. Levi had ruffled their hair and stood back up again before unclipping his cape, folding it and setting it on the counter as the two boys went back outside. You smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck again and felt him rest his hands on your hips. "I wasn't expecting you to come and visit, should've told me and I would've gotten the boys sorted out. James had been playing football all day while Farlan watched and read" you hummed as Levi softly nodded before digging his face into the crook of your neck and taking in your scent.

"And where's the last one? Isabel?"

Levi's hold on you tightened a little as he nipped your neck. "Isabel is probably in her room, she was just playing with Julia before you came and is probably drawing like usual" you told the male as he nodded somewhat and pulled away before pecking your lips once again and sighed. "I'm sorry for leaving you with these crackheads, especially the boys, I should've been here a lot more" he explained as you shook your head at his statement. "They've been surprisingly good since the last time you visited, don't know what got into them" you took a glance outside to the two. Farlan was on the highest peak of the jungle gym reading with the cape still on while James was practicing some tricks with the ball.

"I'm going to get a shower, then I'll see how Isabel is doing.. Might even see if James' football skills improved and if the other squirt would join." Levi blankly planned as you nodded before letting him go to turn back to the cooking dinner that was just starting.

// Time Skip \\

"And another goal for James!"

"That's a point to dad!"

Both girls sat by your side as you watched Levi and James toy around with the ball, Farlan had joined in for a while but then disappeared to go pet Levi's horse in the stables. You noticed your second eldest had been distancing himself from you and his siblings for a few weeks now and it began to worry you. Was something wrong?

Just as you were thinking you were brought from your train of thought when a light tap came from your shoulder. You turned around with a gentle smile to see Farlan smile somewhat before saying.

"Mom, can we talk for a minute..?"

Worry wasn't the word to describe how you were feeling right then and there.

You turned to see Levi sending you a curious look- thin brows knit together as his orbs flickered to his son behind you before resting them back on your own. "Hey girls, I'll be right back, Farlan and I just have to talk for a minute" you said as both younger girls nodded and hummed before you disappeared back inside with Farlan who nervously fidgeted with the sleeve of his top.

"What's wrong?"

"D-Don't tell dad.. Please mom.. B-but-"

"But what? Something bothering you?"

"T-the kids at school, they know dad is a s-scout and they keep telling me he's going to die! They keep telling me I won't see him again! It's giving me nightmares mom-! I-I don't want to lo-loose him!" The young Ackerman cried out before clutching onto your blouse as you cooed softly at the child before sitting down on the sofa with him in your arms. You gently rubbed circles into his back as he sobbed quietly explaining what the other students at his school had told him. You were angry and upset that your precious son had to go through this, especially from some careless brat who just wants to drive him mad.

"Shhh... Nono.. It's alright, nothing's going to happen.. He's going to be alright, we all will be, those nasty Titans will be wiped out soon and then everyone can go outside the walls, you ignore those kids who are telling you lies like that okay? They're trying to upset you but you be the bigger man and ignore them- don't let them get the better of you... You know? One day I bet your father will retire and live here with us" you suddenly change the subject as Farlan's cries settled down into sniffles and small hiccups.

"Maybe that's what I should do soon"

You jumped and felt the grip your son had on your blouse tug slightly as he desperately began to wipe away the tears. You knew both your boys hated to cry or seem weak in front of Levi considering he was nicknamed as Humanities Strongest and they wanted to be so much like him. Looking to Levi you saw the softened expression on his face when he looked at your teary eyed son in your arms holding onto you for dear life it seemed like. "F/N the girls' are looking for you outside, I'll stay with Farlan and see what's happening" Levi spoke before taking a seat down next to you. Nodding at the man you let Farlan down off your lap to sit next to Levi, knowing full well that he'd try to act tough enough in front of his father. "I'll be back in a bit" you hummed quietly before walking back out to the garden.

Sitting back down on the decking you rested your cheek in the palm of your hand as you watched your three other children play. Isabel and Julia were on the jungle gym, the highest peak giggling away to themselves as they messed about whilst James was still playing with the ball before kicking it into the goal a couple of times. The sun was beginning to go down whilst the sky slowly turned a bright link colour from the sunset.

About half an hour passed and Farlan came running out past you into the garden- soon joining his brother in their little match of football as the girls continued on the jungle gym. Levi walked out and sat next to you with a cup of tea shortly after. He leant back and sipped the drink quietly as you took a glimpse to him. "So- what's the story?" You asked as he set the cup aside and cleared his throat. "Well he's been saying how the little shits torment him about me not coming back one day- which is wrong in every case. Then I talked to him about trying to act all tough and all when I'm in the room- he should have enough comfort to be himself with his own father am I wrong?" Levi quizzed looking to you with a raised brow.

"Yeah, he should be comfortable enough with you, so I'm assuming everything is sorted out?" You continued as the male nodded before taking another sip of his tea. "We should call them in for bed shortly" Levi clicked his tongue before setting his hues upon the darkening sky. Standing up he kept his hold on the rim of his cup "alright, it's getting dark you spoiled brats! Get inside now before I kick ya in there myself" he called out to them, Isabel's laughter filled the air as she and her sister climbed down from their imaginary 'ship' whilst James was putting his ball away before jogging inside soon followed by Farlan who kept his books hidden underneath his father's cloak. Levi brought in Isabel and Julia as you followed them in and locked the doors behind you. "Now- up and get into the bath- don't forget to pop in one of those bath bomb things, though I'd rather not have a bomb go off in my house" Levi commented and ruffled Julia's hair before sending them upstairs, James had disappeared to the sitting room with Farlan.

Once all the kids were washed and dressed for bed you were once again busy with tucking them in but this time you had Levi with you to send them asleep. You could hear him muttering to your youngest in her own little room after you tended to her already. You were ready yourself to fall asleep after tucking the rest into their beds and kissing them good night so you decided to hang around and see what Levi was whispering to her about.

"And daddy's gonna bring you to see all the horses at work one day yeah?" He muttered earning a small 'mhm' from Julia. He was bent over her bed rubbing her shoulder. "That sounds like a great plan to me then, I'll see you in the morning princess... I love you.. shi-Heck I almost forgot your doggie, here." Levi corrected himself from cursing before getting her little puppy teddy he had gotten her while in Sina. Playfully making hushed barking noises as he dug the soft toy into Julia's arms while she giggled and hugged it. Pulling the covers up over her chest Levi pecked her forehead. "Sleep tight cadet.." He whispered before getting up and stepping away from her bed to see you at the doorway watching with a miniature smile.

"I love you daddy.." Julia whispered watching as Levi stood by the door, waving a little to her before shutting it over just enough so light can still get into her room. He let out a tired sigh and another rare smile and walked off towards your bedroom.

Taking off his shoes he set them by the end of the bed before tossing on a t-shirt and some baggy pants before climbing into bed. Levi watched as you got dressed into your nightwear yourself and hopped in next to him. Snuggling into his chest as he looked towards the ceiling for a few seconds. Wrapping his arms around you Levi let you cuddle into his chest before letting out a 'hpmh..' of satisfaction. Kissing you Levi tiredly mumbled.

"See you in the morning, I love you idiot"

"Goodnight to you too Captain, love you~"

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pporkerman-blog · 5 years

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here’s how i try to look at it, and this is just me, this guy being the president, it’s like there’s a horse loose in a hospital. it’s like there’s a horse loose in a hospital. i think eventually everything’s going to be okay, but i have no idea what’s going to happen next. and neither do any of you, and neither do your parents, because there’s a horse loose in the hospital. it’s never happened before, no one knows what the horse is going to do next, least of all the horse. he’s never been in a hospital before, he’s as confused as you are. there’s no experts. [audience cheering] they try to find experts on the news. they’re like, “we’re joined now by a man that once saw a bird in the airport.” get out of here with that shit! we’ve all seen a bird in the airport. this is a horse loose in a hospital. when a horse is loose in a hospital, you got to stay updated. so all day long you walk around, “what’d the horse do?” the updates, they’re not always bad. sometimes they’re just odd. it’ll be like, “the horse used the elevator?” i didn’t know he knew how to do that. the creepiest days are when you don’t hear from the horse at all. you’re down in the operating room like, “hey, has anyone…” “has anyone heard–” [imitates clopping hooves] those are those quiet days when people are like, “it looks like the horse has finally calmed down.” and then ten seconds later the horse is like, “i’m gonna run towards the baby incubators and smash ’em with my hooves. i’ve got nice hooves and a long tail, i’m a horse!” that’s what i thought you’d say, you dumb fucking horse. and then… then… then you go to brunch with people and they’re like, “there shouldn’t be a horse in the hospital.” and it’s like, “we’re well past that.” then other people are like, “if there’s gonna be a horse in the hospital, i’m going to say the n-word on tv.” and those don’t match up at all. and then, for a second, it seemed like maybe we could survive the horse, and then, 5,000 miles away, a hippo was like, “i have a nuclear bomb and i’m going to blow up the hospital!” and before we could say anything, the horse was like, “if you even fucking look at the hospital, i will stomp you to death with my hooves. i dare you to do it. i want you to do it. i want you to do it so i can stomp you with my hooves, i’m so fucking crazy.” “you think you’re fucking crazy, i’m a fucking hippopotamus. i live in a fucking lake of mud. i’m fucking crazy.” and all of us are like, “okay.” like poor andy cohen at those goddamn reunions. “okay.” and then, for a second, we were like, “maybe the horse-catcher will catch the horse.” and then the horse is like, “i have fired the horse-catcher.” he can do that? that shouldn’t be allowed no matter who the horse is. i don’t remember that in hamilton. sometimes, if you make fun of the horse, people will get upset. these are the people that opened the door for the horse. i don’t judge anyone. but sometimes i ask people. i go, “hey, how come you opened the door for the horse?” and they go, “well, the hospital was inefficient!” or sometimes they go, “if you’re so mad at the horse, how come you weren’t mad when the last guy did this three and a half years ago? you’re beating up on the horse when the last guy essentially did the same thing five years ago.” first off, get out of here with your facts. you’re like the kid at the sleepover who, after midnight, is like, “it’s tomorrow now!” get the fuck out of here with your technicalities. just ’cause you’re accurate does not mean you’re interesting. that was fun when we watched beetlejuice tonight. “don’t you mean last night? it’s after midnight.” why don’t you get your sleeping bag and get out of my house! take your epipen, take your goddamn epipen and get out of my house! but when people say, “how come you were never mad at the last guy?” i say, “because i wasn’t paying attention.”

#open starter!

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mairzymarzipan · 7 years

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Hey guys, remember tin!?

I wrote some angst for Nathanael

Holy cow do I hope this works :B It feels a little comedy to begin with, which might muddle the angst? Idk, I like to mix them, but I’m never sure how it comes out.

“Hu-Hussar? Why are you so big?”

“My Prince? I’m no larger than I was before when I was in the Big World.”

The horse towered over the boy. Two Nathanaels would have to stack up on top of each other just to pet his nose. He was slender, with ramrod straight legs that were fused to too-curved skis. He was wood, painted white all over, with button eyes in front of the face. His mane was some yellowy silk, and his coat had only a few specks missing.

Nathanael considered his options. Maybe Hussar had just been a really huge rocking horse before coming to Kotdaloes, like big enough for big kids to play on. And he was like, trojan horse sized? He was so big you had to keep him out in the yard, and use a ladder to climb him? But Hussar and The Prince had belonged to a rich kid- somebody who was almost a prince himself. If anyone could have a giant rocking horse in their yard, it was probably the son of some regency era English lord.

Nathanael turned away from Hussar- or maybe it was a full spin because he certainly felt like the was spinning. He glanced up. What about the stars? The Big Dipper was up there, just where it belonged. And just over there- a tree with a house next to it. The tree was some kind of squat conifer- like a red pine. And the house was a wooden affair with a peaked roof. Nathanael set of toward these through the tall grass.

“Your Majesty? Where are you going?” Hussar rocked himself on his skis, slowly inching after him.

Nathanael was already halfway around the side of the house, “I’m going to knock on the door. Maybe they have a phone I can use.”

“But,” came The Colonel’s pleasant voice, “isn’t that a doghouse, Your Majesty?”

Nathanael stopped in his tracks. The tall grass had ended and Nathanael was standing on some smooth earth, smoothed by feet or wheels. He was at the front of the house now. Instead of a door, it had a wide bay like a garage, only taller so that it took up most of the wall. Nathanael could see all the way inside to the bare back wall, and at the carpet that was all bunchy and folded like it had just been thrown in but never stapled down. And he thought for a moment- well, maybe they’re renovating the place. But that didn’t explain the stencil paw prints above the door, or the chain that lay stretched on the ground in front of it and off into grass. It was, huge, like something you see in a horror movie.

“Your Majesty?” An orangey hand was on the corner, and then an orangey mustachioed face. The human looked for everything to be the Colonel- from the big, droopy mustache to the sword to the way the buttons cinched on the trim body. He was just, all one color, and shiny. A brass version of himself. He was also shorter than Nathanael, but not short enough. Like, he came up to his shoulders.

“Colonel,” Nathanael, “I don’t suppose you were a statue before you got a soul, were you?” He said, thinking that the carpet looked more like fleece blanket than a carpet.

The Colonel stood up straighter and he wiggled his nose uncomfortably. “A statuette, maybe. I’m only eight inches tall. But you have a way with flattering words, Your Majesty.”

Nathanael nodded slowly. There was a sort of clamminess grasping his chest. It held him tight all around, and even entered inside him. He felt like these awful, slithering fingers where in his lungs. He felt like they filled every inch of his lungs until he couldn’t catch a breath. Then he realized he didn’t have lungs.

He put his hands to his face and there was a clop, like wood against wood, and the feeling of two smooth orbs above his eyes. He wandered until there was a shadow above him- a big curved metal wall. But it wasn’t a wall, was it? Just the underside of some dog’s water bowl.

It was silvery, and an ugly, twisted face looked down at Nathanael. And though the face was distorted by the curve of the bowl, it was still fairly accurate. What with it’s bulging green eyes and spritzes of wild black hair and the teeth that took up most of the bottom of the face. Nathanael to look away, or shut his eyes but, staring at his own reflection, he seemed to remember that he didn’t have eyelids.

“My Prince! Where to now, Your Majesty?” Behind the nutcracker in the mirror, Nathanael sighted the horse rocking ever closer. The brass man was approaching him too, using a more usual stride.

Nathanael’s arms fell parallel to his sides. He stared up into his eyes. No. Not fair. He had done everything. He had worked so hard. He had crossed the country with a mad woman, faced Coppelia, convinced everyone he was a dead guy that he wasn’t and finally- finally! Stepped through an exit trudasurry. He was back- in The Big World! No, no- on Earth! That should have been it. Nathanael needed it to be it. When Alice and Dorothy and Wirt came home, that had been it for them! Their stories had been over! They had won!

But Nathanael knew his story wasn’t over. He was on Earth, but he couldn’t go home.

“My Prince? Are you alright?”

Couldn’t he? So what if he was still small, and wooden, and had a face not even the mother of a harelipped pug could love. His home was his home, and it had his family in it. He loved his home, and his town, and he missed his family. Dearly. Even his Mom, who treated his gender like a joke. She also dried blankets and brought them up when the kids were sick, so they got to sleep under something warm. And his father who encouraged him to imagine all kinds of crazy worlds, and his sister who was his nerdiest best friend he had, and his little sister who were also so smart and so adventurous.

“Your Majesty, do you still want a Big World phone? There’s a fleshuman dwelling nearby- I could sneak in and look around for something. Do I have your permission?”

He should be there. He belonged there. And yet, he couldn’t go. It wouldn’t be home. Not now.

What would his mom say if she saw him like this? Would she even recognize him? Or could he even get the words out before she turned him away? Would his dad throw him in the woodchipper? His parents couldn’t even believe he was a boy, so why would they ever believe he was a doll? What about Hilda? She might be convinced but, then what? Would she smuggle him inside? Maybe then he could live in the triplets dollhouse.

“My Prince! Please, say something!”

His future stretched out in front of him and it was bleak. The triplets were seven. Seven. What was life going to be? Would they try to dress him up? Make him date their Barbies? Oh- oh no. Would they grab him around the middle and walk him around on the floor? What if they fought over him? What if his head came off? He didn’t want to be somebody’s toy doll!

So then would Hilda take pity on him? Hide him in her room? She’d make sure he was comfortable and that the twins didn’t get their hands on him and yet- that seemed almost as miserable. It’d be like jail, but with Steven Universe music playing all the time. There would be nothing to do there but wait. Wait for what?

He’d never be able to finish school, or ride Brooke again, or go live in California- or anywhere, for that matter. If what all the dolls told him was true, then he’d never be able to go out at night. Even if his parents did believe he was himself, what would they say? Having a son who was a nutcracker must have been like, wayyy more mortifying than having a daughter who thought she was a boy. It would be easier for Nathanael to make them think he was dead. They would probably rather think he was dead than think of this ugly block of wood as their kid.

“He’s not moving. He’s not moving!”

“Well, he is a doll.”

“Colonel!”

“I’m sorry. Has- has he been touched by sunlight?”

“From where? It’s ten-minutes-past-twelve. There’s is no sun!”

Nathanael stood ramrod straight, not even looking up anymore. His eyes were kind of unfocused anyway. He knew he was dissociating. He also knew that people were talking. He could hear them, but their words didn’t matter. They were people on a show on TV on the other side of the house. They were clearly upset, but, they were in another world, in another time. They weren’t even real.

“Your Steedness, if I may state a hypothesis-”

“Out with it, Chamberlain.”

The Colonel seemed to bite back on the word, but went on, “Is it possible that the stars of the Big World have frozen our beloved Prince?”

“The stars? Colonel, don’t be stuffbrained. The stars have never hurt one of our kind.”

“Yes, but none of our kind have come back from The Darkness at the Edge of the World.”

Nathanael couldn’t go home. He could go home, but he couldn’t go home. But he was loathe to turn around and got back to Jamburg. He had worked hard for this. So hard. He couldn’t just throw it away.

Hussar didn’t say anything, so the Colonel was the next to speak, “He’s like an anglerfish who’s lived so long at the floor of the ocean that he now flinches at any light. I mean, it’s not unthinkable to say that The Darkness has changed him. His hair has absorbed it’s color.”

“But our stars don’t have this effect on him-”

“Our stars are enchanted. They bring souled dolls back from inanimacy- they have something that these stars do not. Perhaps- perhaps they’re the only stars His Majesty can stand under.”

Hussar’s breath was heavy, “It’s a good thing His Majesty hates the Big World so much.”

But, he also couldn’t seem to muster up the will to walk away from this spot- to explore this part of Earth for what it was. He would have been satisfied to stand in this very spot until the sun came out to freeze him in place, officially.

His companions had other thoughts on the matter, however. The Colonel put one brass arm around him and dragged him away from the water bowl. “We’ll get you out of here, Your Majesty,” he whispered, “no one will know about this.”

Nathanael probably should have told The Colonel to leave him alone, but he couldn’t even muster that effort. He didn’t know what The Colonel wanted with him, and he didn’t care. The Colonel somehow pushed him onto Hussar’s lowered back, but not before a deep cooing was heart in the yard.

“An owl!” The Colonel cried.

“We’re safe- I’m dog sized,” Hussar said, “no owl will come near you two with me here.”

The horse stood up, and rocked into the doghouse. The sky was covered up by wooden planks coming together at a point. The Big Dipper was gone. Nathanael should have felt a certain heart tightness to have it taken away. All that was there, instead, hard, dead wood.

And then, snow. Snow overtook him, wrapped him around in its crystalline but not-too-cold embrace. It filled his vision and spun around, confusing him.

Until it cleared, and Nathanael was looking at very different stars. They were familiar, though. Not familiar the way the faces of your family are, but familiar in that way that that some unwanted guy who keeps trying to flirt with you and follows you around campus is familiar. Nathanael picked out the crown and the guillotine before he slipped off Hussar’s much smaller and more furry back.

The Colonel was there to ease his fall. The man was now taller than him, with peachy colored cheeks and a sandy mustache and blue eyes and coat. “Your Majesty, are you alright?”

“I belong here,” Nathanael said, eyes drifting skyward again.

“Indeed, you do!” Hussar said, “For this is the Land of the Dolls, the land you discovered, and conquered!”

Oh, that was funny. Hussar thought he had meant that in a celebratory way. Nathanael had been a nutcracker for a week, but his body had never felt so heavy and wooden.

#real toys #drabble #mairzy writes

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lop9080 · 6 years

Text

I took Mulaney’s “Horse in a Hospital” Metaphor and made it not a metaphor.

I’ve never really cared about politics. Never talked about ’em much. But then, last November, the strangest thing happened. [audience laughing] Now, I don’t know if you’ve been following the news, but I’ve been keeping my ears open and it seems like everyone everywhere is super-mad about everything all the time. I try to stay a little optimistic, even though I will admit, things are getting pretty sticky. Here’s how I try to look at it, and this is just me, this guy being the president, it’s like there’s Trump loose in the White house. It’s like there’s Trump loose in a White House. I think eventually everything’s going to be okay, but I have no idea what’s going to happen next. And neither do any of you, and neither do your parents, because there’s Trump loose in the White House. It’s never happened before, no one knows what Trump is going to do next, least of all the Trump. He’s never been in a White House before, he’s as confused as you are. There’s no experts. [audience cheering] They try to find experts on the news. They’re like, “We’re joined now by a man that once saw a bird in the airport.” Get out of here with that shit! We’ve all seen a bird in the airport. This is Trump loose in a White House. When Trump is loose in a White House, you got to stay updated. So all day long you walk around, “What’d Trump do?” The updates, they’re not always bad. Sometimes they’re just odd. It’ll be like, “ Trump used the elevator?” [audience laughing] I didn’t know he knew how to do that. [audience laughing] The creepiest days are when you don’t hear from Trump at all. [audience laughing] You’re down in the White House like, “Hey, has anyone…” [audience laughing] “Has anyone heard–” [imitates clopping hooves] Those are those quiet days when people are like, “It looks like Trump has finally calmed down.” And then ten seconds later Trump is like, “I’m gonna run towards the baby incubators and smash ’em with my hooves. I’ve got nice hooves and a long tail, I’m Trump!” That’s what I thought you’d say, you dumb fucking Trump. And then… [audience cheering] Then… Then you go to brunch with people and they’re like, “There shouldn’t be Trump in the White House.” And it’s like, “We’re well past that.” Then other people are like, “If there’s gonna be Trump in the White House, I’m going to say the N-word on TV.” And those don’t match up at all. And then, for a second, it seemed like maybe we could survive Trump, and then, 5,000 miles away, Kim Jong Un was like, “I have a nuclear bomb and I’m going to blow up the White House!” And before we could say anything, the Trump was like, “If you even fucking look at the White House, I will stomp you to death with my hooves. I dare you to do it. I want you to do it. I want you to do it so I can stomp you with my hooves, I’m so fucking crazy.” “You think you’re fucking crazy, I’m a fucking hippopotamus. I live in a fucking lake of mud. I’m fucking crazy.” And all of us are like, “Okay.” Like poor Andy Cohen at those goddamn reunions. “Okay.” And then, for a second, we were like, “Maybe the Trump-catcher will catch the Trump.” And then Trump is like, “I have fired the Trump-catcher.” [audience laughing] He can do that? That shouldn’t be allowed no matter who the Trump is. I don’t remember that in Hamilton. [audience laughing]

Sometimes, if you make fun of Trump, people will get upset. These are the people that opened the door for Trump. I don’t judge anyone. But sometimes I ask people. I go, “Hey, how come you opened the door for Trump?” And they go, “Well, the White House was inefficient!” [audience laughing] Or sometimes they go, “If you’re so mad at Trump, how come you weren’t mad when the last guy did this three and a half years ago? You’re beating up on Trump when the last guy essentially did the same thing five years ago.” First off, get out of here with your facts. You’re like the kid at the sleepover who, after midnight, is like, “It’s tomorrow now!” Get the fuck out of here with your technicalities. Just ’cause you’re accurate does not mean you’re interesting. That was fun when we watched Beetlejuice tonight. “Don’t you mean last night? It’s after midnight.” Why don’t you get your sleeping bag and get out of my house! Take your EpiPen, take your goddamn EpiPen and get out of my house! But when people say, “How come you were never mad at the last guy?” I say, “Because I wasn’t paying attention.” I used to pay less attention before it was Trump. Also, I thought the last guy was pretty smart, and he seemed good at his job, and I’m lazy by nature. [audience cheering] I’m lazy by nature too. So I don’t check up on people when they seem okay at their job. You may think that’s an ignorant answer but it’s not, it’s a great answer. If you left your baby with your mother tonight, you’re not going to race home and check the nanny cam. But if you leave your baby with Gary Busey… [audience laughing]

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