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delta-pavonis · 4 months

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Dream Journal Rescue for the wip game, please

WHOO! Thank you for asking about this one, Nonny.

For the 2022 Dreamling Secret Santa I took a risk and wrote something that can be very divisive in fanfic and in fiction in general: first person narrative. I wrote the first half of i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) as a dream journal that Hob used to record his dreams after they came back when Dream got out of the fishbowl in 2021. It draws both from the early comics and from the TV show in terms of events/timeline. This fic got significantly less attention than the others I had written at the time, but it was also the one I was most proud of that year (and that's with Eros in Pragma and Hypnopompia turtur in there!). I am still extremely proud of it because it is, for me, I think very poetic writing. However, the first version of i had a dream wasn't post-fishbowl, but actually started before the fishbowl. Hob still kept a dream journal, and it still started in first person, but the idea originally was that Hob would figure out that something had happened to his Stranger because of his dreams stopping. Which meant that they needed to have enough of a relationship/rapport by the 1910s that Hob would trust that Dream would not miss a dream "date" of theirs without very good reason. Hence, "dream journal rescue" as the name. I only have pieces of the fic, but I keep them because I still viscerally love what I did with i had a dream SO FUCKING MUCH that I want to return to that style at some point. If you have read i had a dream you will see the bits I took from this and transferred to that.

This is totally G-rated and starts before 1889, as Hob is anticipating that next meeting, and then keeps going into 1914. Here's what I have in that WIP file:

21 October 1885

I think I need to write these down. Olive suggested I start writing these down. She is usually right about such things.

Maybe it will bring some clarity to this… mess.

I’m in the White Horse Inn. (It is always the White Horse.)

The year is not obvious from the decor, which is a riotous mix of 1389 and 1489 and 1789. Delicate teacups and straw-covered floor and fireplaces with chimneys. Of course chimneys. But I know, in the way of dreams, that it is the day of our annual appointment, the next one, in 1889.

I shake my coat and hat free of the London morning rain. I am many hours before the time of our appointment. This my usual - I always arrive early. To ready the table and, more importantly, myself for our meeting.

But in this dream I enter the White Horse to find the Stranger already there. He looks exactly as he did in 1789. Which must say something about my imagination since he has always been in impeccable fashion specific to the era of our meeting.

Or perhaps it is because he looks at me with the same burning intensity that made our last appointment so spectacular. His eyes devour me, just as they did when we parted last, and I am absolutely helpless to resist.

I am sitting then, across from him, cups of tea and venison pasties between us. His beautiful pale fingers trace around the gilded edge of the teacup. I am speaking, words tumbling forth, I can hear the droning vibrations in my ears and throat, but it is not where my attention lies.

My attention is riding the wave in his coalblack hair. My attention is wafting the bob of his throat above his high collar. My attention is tracing the sweet pout of his pink lips. My attention is flying through storm-sky eyes.

He reaches across and

Fuck. I can’t write this.

[There are several attempts at starting entries after the previous one. None manage more than a sentence.]

[No attempts at entries are made after 1889.]

1 November 1898

I woke up still drunk and still in very rural Wales (note: never ever always maybe return for Nos Calan Gaeaf in the future) and found this old journal in the bottom of my trunk, so I suppose I shall once again make a valiant attempt to take dear Olive’s advice to sort out the dreams of my Stranger that ever plague me.

(I have heard tell of work by a man named Freud who claims dreams can be used to better understand someone’s psychology and potentially even relieve psychosis. He'd have a field day with me. May I never come within 400 miles of him.)

My drunk mind lacks creativity for scenery and so when I sleep this night I find myself in the same village square I was in only hours prior… however, I am back in time about 400 years? Long before the industrialization of the region, before the extermination of these old traditions by the expansion of “civilization.”

I have just won the silly harvest mare from the clutches of the other young men bringing the last of the harvest in, a horse-shaped horror made from the final stalks of grain reaped. I am now expected to try to sneak this rustling beast into the home where the bulk of the feast is being prepared by the womenfolk without one of them dousing me with washwater. If I succeed in getting into the kitchen unscathed I will win their finest beer and an honored seat at the feast-table. I am always up for new games.

(This is all Iwan’s fault for convincing me to accompany him home for the holiday yesterday and for me getting drunk while they all told me stories of the Old Days. Let it never be said that I abandon a friend in their time of need.)

I easily weave through the crowds of women and children, in their dresses and aprons and smocks, clothing I haven’t seen in centuries but are still as real as yesterday, and cross the kitchen threshold only to find the room empty. An empty kitchen except for the crackle of the hearthfire and my Stranger sat on a barrel in front of it.

The large fire paints him in oranges and golds and he looks warm and inviting in a way that I have never experienced outside of my mind. It is the moment I know for certain that this is a dream.

When he looks up to me he appears confused, brows drawn, lips parted.

I am the first to speak, although words do not come easily to me. “What…?” After our parting in 1889 I can scarce understand why I am seeing him before me now. Although nightmares of the night plagued me in the months afterwards, I had been blessedly free of any night-time visits from my Stranger for almost a decade now. It has been an unexpected boon after so many years of dreaming of him more carnally. I know these facts within the dream. “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t stand, cranes his neck back to look up at me, and I realize he has a low collar this night, lower than it had been even in 1489. I can see flame-gold arcing around the shadowed hollow of his throat.

“It is a Ysbrydnos.” He explains in perfect Welsh, as if I am some child. I do not question why I can so easily understand him despite my mediocre grasp of the language. It is a dream, after all. “Many call on me such nights.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes, ‘tis a Spirit Night and you a spirit.”

He tilts his head to the side, bird-like and distinctly not human. “Not as such. But I will attend the dreams of many who call me here this night.” The Stranger’s voice is just as rich and decadent as it is in person. This detail my memory - traitorous bastard it is - does not neglect.

“Of course. Even the version of you I make for my dreams gives non-answers and evasions.” I can feel my whole body hunch in defeat. I wrap my arms around myself, look to the floor. “Just why…” Even my dream cannot steady my voice. “Why does my mind show you to me now? Why this torment?”

“Ah.” Now his voice is choked and staccato. “You did not call me here yourself this night.” Perhaps he is surprised, or ashamed, I cannot tell.

Still, I want to scream. “After last time…” I grit my teeth and continue to stare at the floor.

I see the toes of his black shoes enter my field of view. His chest is perhaps a handspan from mine. “Do you truly wish to never dream of me?” This inquiry is a mocking echo of his usual question, but there is no mockery in his tone. “Given…" He shakes his head, unable to say the words. Say the words he should say: Given what I did to you… Instead he restarts the sentence, "It would be well within your right to request it.”

I sigh. He almost sounds remorseful. What a fantasy this is. How contrived. “No.” And if I ever doubted before that this was a dream the tiny bits of relief I see wash over my Stranger confirms it. His eyes soften minutely. His shoulders relax a hair's breadth. “This might be the only chance I have to ever see you again. And I would take the machinations of my mind, I would take delusions of your regard, over nothing.”

He hums, looking back to the fire as he takes a step away from me. I feel cold and bereft. “This dream is over.”

And then I woke up.

1 Nov 1898 I have not dreamed of him in six months. one year. three years. seven ten fifteen

25 May 1914

After almost 17 years I found myself dreaming of the White Horse last night and when I focused upon it in my mind’s eye I almost burst into tears.

Wait, Olive always said that this was more effective if I narrated as if I was reliving the dream. That I would get more details back that way.

I begin the dream standing outside the White Horse Inn and knowing that I am dreaming. It is the first time I have begun a dream this aware and therefore it is noteworthy.

When I enter I feel his presence before I see it. Through the doors in the back, to the private room that had been set aside for us in 1789. He is once again in front of a fireplace, standing this time, hands clasped at the small of his back as he looks down into the flames.

(Note: Ponder this pattern more later, that I associate him in dreams with fire.)

The door to the room automatically closes behind me and he turns. Despite the venue, he is dressed, as always, in the pinnacle of fashion. All black - of course - but a suit with long jacket and waistcoat and tie nonetheless. The ever-present ruby sits heavy and dark just below his throat.

“I did not intend the delay, Hob.” And doesn’t that throw me for a loop. I did not know prior to that moment that one could get dizzy in their own dreams. “I sometimes forget that time flows… differently… for you humans. But I did think on our last conversation.”

Thirty questions stampede through my mind at once. Everything from ‘Did he just directly admit that he is not human?’ to ‘Which last time?’ I throw all of these aside and instead opt for a cautiously lilted “And?”

A magnanimous wave of his hand and we are sitting, the same tea and sweets that were present in 1789 grace the table between us. I hold my breath. “Perhaps we can pick up, as much as we can, where we were in 1789 before the Lady Constantine interrupted us.” I am so taken aback by the turn this dream has taken that I cannot for the life of me think of what to say next. Luckily, my mind does not require me to as he continues. “I believe you asked my name.”

I almost fall over myself to give him leave to avoid it. “Only if you wish it.” Just don't leave again.

He smiles, something brighter than usual, and it feels like looking into the Sun. “I have a list of titles, which we can get to later, but the simplest name is Dream.”

I clamp down on the anguish that’s in my throat, but it still comes out as a high-pitched wheeze from between my teeth. “Dream?! DREAM?!?” I let myself slump boneless into the chair, impropriety be damned, and splay my legs out in front of me, hands over my face. “Oh fuck my mind and these GAMES. Why can it not send me sweet dreams of you? Of COURSE you are named Dream… you are a dream! Has my subconscious no creativity? Christ in heaven…”

“Hob!” He shouts. He has never shouted at me before. I look to him through my fingers, meet twilight-blue eyes. “My name is Dream of the Endless and I am the King of Dreams and Nightmares.”

Shock, bright white and violent, runs through me and I quite literally fall out of my chair.

And then I wake up.

26 May 1914

I do not think I have ever been more wrong about something in my long long life.

Fuck.

My Stranger is Dream. He lords over dreams and nightmares. They are his Domain, his Kingdom.

F U C K

I knew that he was something Other. But this. This.

We met again last night, in my dreams. I don’t need to work at this anymore (thanks for trying, Olive) because he asked me last night if I wanted to remember this, remember meeting him. Apparently he has some manner of control over such things.

I told him yes. Of course I said yes. But I think I want to continue to keep track of what has happened, what will happen, in my dreams, here in this journal. If only so that I have something to refer to later when I have absolutely zero confidence that this is real. Some proof that I haven’t gone completely barmy.

Last night we talked. Just talked. It was in a liminal space, barely distinct as containing a floor and walls and chairs. All monotone, in blacks and greys and faint whites. It still reminded me of the back room from 1789.

He - Dream - told me so much. More than he had ever said to me in one go ever before. He told me some of his other names: Lord Morpheus (or just Morpheus), Prince of Stories, Oneiros, Shaper of Forms. He has a kingdom, home to dreams and nightmares alike. They are not only his citizens, but he creates them. Creates!

I have so so many questions.

But I must parcel them out carefully. Each answer is a treasure I will hoard.

I returned his generosity with words of my own.

#Dreamling #Pavonis writes #another dream journal fic

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geraltyen-of-corvobianco · 1 year

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𝘛𝘪𝘴' 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨...🎄🎁

To celebrate the joyous festive season of Yule, we bring tidings of our favourite Wolven Family, being spotted at Skellige this year giving out presents to the little warriors of the isles. We arrived late, however, and to our surprise - we saw Geralt of Rivia, dressed as Santa Witchmas, having a delightful rest with his horse Roach while Yennefer of Vengerberg and her daughter gave out the presents to the children. There were joyful and raucous laughter from the children as they received their presents, ranging from books and toy swords to even musical instruments. Yennefer of Vengerberg seemed to be in charge of taking stock and tracking the wish list fulfillments. And oh how stunned we were to see her in a festive red suit similar to that of her family's! Despite her well-known preference in black and white clothes. Nevertheless, she looked as stunning as always. An insider source has also told us that we were really lucky to spot her in it, as she was apparently spotted in a black and white suit prior to giving out the presents! Maybe this is a small form of Freya's blessing upon us this festive season!

Besides the heartwarming scene of the family giving out the presents, we were also in awe at the little geese with santa hats trotting around the scene. A reindeer can also be spotted casually walking around in curiosity. These animals certainly added even more significance to the occasion, and we do wonder - are these creatures of nature embracing the family naturally; being attracted to them? Or are they mere illusions secretly created by the sorceress to spruce up the season? We have tried interviewing a couple of villagers for their opinions and it seems the consensus is that of nature. Though this author is in disagreement of that, because - since when does a reindeer trot around freely without fear of so many humans around it? Especially when they could all be potential hunters?

All in all, we were honoured to be able to catch a few moments of the family in action this joyous season. With the New Year just around the corner, we wonder if the family has anything special planned as well? We will let you know should we have any updates. In the meantime, Happy Holidays, our dear Readers.

~ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬, 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝓒.1278

Note: The Novigradian Tabloids is a fictitious gossip column I had created way back in my Instagram account last year. 👀

#the witcher #the witcher 3 #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla of cintra #cirilla of vengerberg #witcher christmas #witchmas #christmas 2022 #witcheredit #witcher fanart #witcher fanfiction #The Novigradian Tabloids #archive of the continent #geraltyen of corvobianco

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whothefuckgavemeinternet · 1 year

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... I like hurting myself tho.

Context: The Resistance explained what Christmas is and who Santa is, even how he works, but slightly changed because they can't actually give gifts. Casey Jr. is 12 years old, Donnie just left for a mission he won't come back from, and Leo and Mikey are getting the lair decorated while the children write their letters to Santa.

"Dear Santha - Santa, Robbie is helping me write this. He writes pretty well, so Chelsey and I asked for his help. I wanted Mom or Master Leonardo to help, but they said they're busy keeping the bad monsters away.

Chelsey said she wanted to ask for a book about horses. She told me that they were huge animals before the war, huge and beautiful that could run faster than Kraangs. She said she wanted one, but Robbie told us that they were on a trip far away from us, so instead she asked for a book.

I don't really know what to ask for. There's so much stuff I want to see, but Uncle Tello told me that gifts were something important and I had to be wizhe - wise about choosing one. So I want Master Raphael back. Uncle Mikey told us that he was the strongest, that he was bigger than Master Leonardo and he always knew what to do. He protected everyone and everything was easier when he was around. I don't really remember him, but it would make my family happy. So please bring Master Raphael back, Santa.

With love, Casey Jones."

Robbie finished reading the letters and smiled at the little ones around him, dismissing them to their dorms or to play in another room. He couldn't give that letter to either Leonardo or Mikey, let alone Donnie. They could get affected by it, and everyone around needed them too much. Robbie was only 16, but he knew for sure he wouldn't give Casey's letter to them. So instead, he did what seemed logical and ran to Commander O'Neil.

April felt shocked and out of place. She felt like she was 28 again and Leo was screaming for help through the radio, "Raph is hurt, please hurry! Someone! We need help!" The building had collapsed while they were fighting some infected people. Leo didn't notice, and Raph protected him with his body. They could never get his body out of the debris, and they had to leave him alone in Kraang territory. Donnie dragged a very injured Leo out of the place and back to their base. She still hadn't been able to tell Commander O'Neil. Leo was only 26, and they had just found Casey in a trash can two years ago. Mikey... Oh, God. Mikey was crying so bad he couldn't speak for two months afterward, blaming himself for not being able to move the debris with his ninpo. Donnie trapped himself in his lab and ignored everyone for weeks before Todd and Draxum managed to take him out. They almost lost Leo too. It wasn't just the blood loss; the lack of his arm made Leo give up. He didn't move, he didn't eat, and he didn't even try to sleep. He was just there, lying on the bed waiting for his death.

It took a Kraang attack against the children's dorms for him to move again. Casey was the one who saved him. The little kid didn't separate from Leo from that day, calling him dad and sharing meals. Then Leo recovered just enough to take the leader role and keep his brothers up, and the rest of the resistance.

April felt her cheeks being wet and simply put the letter in her pocket. She would give Casey one of Raph's old plushies and explain that he wouldn't come back with some cute history. It was the best she could do.

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gatheringfiki · 1 year

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The following ficlet was written by @i-am-still-bb based on this photoset.

DarkHawk, Teen.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

A DarkHawk Christmas

---

Ross had liked Christmas when he was in primary school. He had fond memories of making Christmas treats, hanging his and Claude’s stockings, and drinking hot chocolate by the fire on Christmas Eve with Christmas music playing on the record player. They had Christmas carols on cassettes and then CDs, but his mother insisted that they sounded better on the record player. The other media were used other days and in other places, but on Christmas Eve they listened to the record player. Small amounts of frankincense and myrrh oil were dropped onto hot light bulbs and the smell curled and wound itself in with the smell of woodsmoke, chocolate, and sweets where it found an abiding place in Ross’ memories.

The sight of the colored lights, ceramic trees, and the sound of carols brought it all back to him. And he was nostalgic for the Christmases of his childhood before everything started going wrong.

One year his mother was sick. She had been in and out of the hospital for months. The strong smell of antiseptic replaced the notes of baking sweets.

And then she was gone a few days after Christmas and buried just after the New Year.

Their attempts the next Christmas were feeble, but at least they tried even if it was not the same.

That following January Claude fell through the ice on a frozen lake with two of his friends. The other two boys survived.

That year they did not even try.

There were no cookies, pies, or roasts. There were no trees with shiny baubles mixed in with those that documented handprints and footprints until they were too big and the handprints were replaced with photographs that often featured missing teeth, cowlicked hair, and bandaids.

No colored lights.

No hot chocolate by the fire on Christmas Eve.

They still went to his cousin’s house on Christmas day where there were all those things and more. He pulled Christmas crackers, ate candy, wore a paper crown, and played board games with his cousins. But even then he was nostalgic for the past.

Christmas while he was deployed had always been a strange experience. People dressed up in Santa and elf costumes while they were on duty. Ever seen a female Santa wearing a tiny skirt and carrying an M27? Ross had. The whole thing always felt surreal.

And then he was honorably discharged just before Christmas. And decided to surprise his family on Christmas day, so he did not send word to his cousins. Only to find his fiancee had left him for his cousin without so much as a Dear John letter.

Up until then Ross had made some attempts and not just hating the holiday even though it felt stilted and awkward. He had taped Christmas cards above his bunk while deployed, and sang songs when others roped him into it.

After that Christmas he no longer tried.

That was the first Christmas that he had spent in a bar. It was sad and depressing. The bar was filled with other individuals who kept to themselves. But there were no decorations. There was no Christmas music or festivities.

That became his tradition. He would have Christmas dinner with his family while they snipped and yelled at one another and then he would go down to the White Horse and drink until he almost could not trust himself to walk home to the empty house that rattled with childhood memories and tchotchkes that he could not bring himself to throw away.

He met Jim at the White Horse in June. By August Jim was filling the empty spaces on bookshelves in front of the books with his own mementos, frequently seashells.

And on December 1st Ross came home to find a ceramic Christmas tree on the hall table.

On December 2nd there were lights strung around the windows with Christmas cards clipped to the quiet spaces.

December 3rd there were bells hanging from the doorway into the kitchen and if Ross wasn’t careful he would run his head into them when leaving or entering the kitchen by that door.

The next day felted mistletoe with white berries joined the bells.

And then there was the Christmas music.

“What’s wrong?” Jim asked when Ross flipped off the music unceremoniously.

Ross just scowled.

Jim turned from where he was going through a box of Christmas baubles that he had found Ross didn’t know where to face Ross.

“Words, Ross.” Jim crossed his legs and remained seated on the rug.

Ross flapped his hand dismissively in the direction of the speaker, the bells, the boxes of baubles, the twinkling lights. “I don’t do Christmas,” he forced out.

“What do you mean you don’t do Christmas?”

Ross’ voice rose with exasperation. “This! I don’t do all of this!” He surged to his feet and started walking the length of the room. His breath was coming fast.

Jim watched Ross pace. The heat of the fire briefly interrupted when Ross walked between Jim and the fireplace that was crackling away quietly. The fire and the creak of the floorboards beneath Ross’ feet were all the more audible for the lack of music.

“What if we don’t do these?” Jim quickly wove the top of the box together to keep it shut. “I’ll put these back. Are the lights and bells okay?”

“I hit my head on the bells.”

“I had noticed. I meant to make them drape a little less, but I forgot.”

“I guess those are fine.”

“And the music?”

“If you must,” Ross grumbled before sitting down again. The energy that had possessed him just moments before drained from him.

Jim pushed himself to his feet. “What about Christmas candy?”

“Depends on the candy,” was the grumpy response.

Jim picked up two brown paper bags that were on the end table. He peeked inside. “Peppermints and…” he opened one of the bags further, “those hard cinnamon ones.”

Ross held out an open hand. “Peppermint.”

Jim dropped one of the peppermints into Ross’ waiting palm before grabbing a handful of the cinnamon ones for himself.

#Gathering 12 Days 2022 #DarkHawk #Jim/Ross #Poldark #Return to Treasure Island

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borbealis · 1 year

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Dear @bookfansworld happy belated holidays! I hope they were healthy (we had sickness and some family members found that bothersome- henceforth I will always wish good health) and happy!

The drabble below is your Byler Secret Santa gift! I hope you enjoy it! I had fun writing it and learned a lot in the process. ❤️

(#no beta we die like men #fantasy #byler #angst? #fluff? #idk how to tag things actually)

In which one Will Byers is trying to understand one Mike Wheeler.

Byler Fantasy AU Drabble

“What was that?” Will demanded coming to stand in front of Mike who was rooting around in his saddle bag for a rag.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Mike said.

“Don’t be like that. You know what I’m talking about.”

Mike was silent and refused to look Will in the eyes, choosing instead to busy himself using the rag he had found to clean the blood off of his sword.

Will stared him down. “Why did you push me aside?” He asked. Mike shifted on his feet but kept his eyes trained on his hands as he carefully slid his rag along the edge of the blade. “I had it under control, Mike! You almost got yourself killed jumping between us like that!” Will shouted.

“Will!” Mike said finally bringing his eyes up to meet Will’s. “Would you just leave it alone?”

For a moment neither of them spoke. Will’s hands were clenched at his side. His face resigned. “I thought you were different than the others.” He said, breaking the silence. “I thought you trusted me to protect myself and to ask when I need help.”

“I do.” Mike said defensively.

“Then why did you push me aside?” Will asked. An unreadable expression flashed across Mike’s face and his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword where he held it at his side.

“Mike, please. I don’t understand.” Will said quietly.

“You really want to know?” Mike asked.

“Yes.”

“Fine.” The sound of metal scraping against metal rang out in the silence as he slid his sword into its scabbard. “I did it out of duty. Duty to the crown—to your mother.” Mike folded his arms across his chest. “I did it because you’re the crown prince now, and ever since Jonathan died I-” Mike faltered then continued more slowly. “The Queen has spoken with me about the importance of your safety. She requested that I be willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure that you survive this quest.” Will’s face had gone pale at Mike’s words, but Mike continued. “If it had been her choice alone, she never would have allowed you to come.” Mike paused a moment then added, “If it had been my choice, I wouldn’t have either.”

“I see.” Will said stiffly. “So, you don’t trust me after all. That was just a lie.”

“What? No, it wasn’t!”

“It was! It was a lie because if it were true, you wouldn’t share my mother’s feelings. You wouldn’t say that you believed I could handle myself and then wish that you could have left me home!”

“That’s just- that’s just not true! You don’t understand.”

“I don’t? Then explain it to me.” Will countered.

“I- ” Mike stopped. He wore an uncharacteristically vulnerable expression on his face. “I can’t.” He whispered. Disappointment filled Will’s face.

“Why are you lying to me, Mike?” Will asked softly. “What happened to us?” He shook his head and turned away from Mike, walking towards his horse that was tethered to a tree a few steps beyond Mike’s.

Mike felt guilt set in immediately as he watched Will walk away. He noted the tense set of his shoulders and the way his hands moved in short, abrupt motions as he examined his horse’s tack—tightening straps and making sure each buckle was safely fastened. Mike groaned and kicked the ground in frustration.

“We should keep going,” Will said over his shoulder. He untied his horse’s reigns from the low branch they were fastened to and swung himself up into his saddle in one graceful motion. He gently nudged his horse forward until it was standing near Mike. “Are you coming?” Will asked. He sat on top of his horse looking down at Mike from above. His posture was immaculate even while riding and at the moment he looked every bit the royal that he was. Mike had never felt the distance between them so strongly.

Mike shook his head. He suddenly felt that if he didn’t explain everything to Will now, he would never get the opportunity again. “I’d like to try and explain myself again if you’ll give me a second chance.” Mike said. Will’s face was a picture of confusion, but he nodded.

“No lies this time?”

“No lies.”

“Alright.” Will agreed hesitantly.

Mike felt sick with apprehension, but he knew he couldn’t change his mind now. It would leave Will even more hurt. Mike didn’t want to be the cause of that again and he owed Will the truth. He begged the powers that be, if there was such a thing, that what he was about to say would be received well even though he knew it could never be reciprocated.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did just now.” Mike said softly. “It may have started out that way, as a role that I performed out of duty alone, but now-” Mike took a deep breath. His heart felt as though it would beat right out of his chest. “For you I would risk everything—life and limb. Whether you were a prince or not. Even if I had never sworn an oath to the crown.” Will’s eyes widened and his mouth parted on a breath his horse began to shuffle its feet uneasily. Mike wasn’t sure if he had just created a chasm between them that he would never be able to bridge but now that he had started, he couldn’t stop and he rushed on to explain himself.

“When I was younger all I ever wanted was to be seen. To belong. I didn’t think I would ever have that… I came close to it with the party but even then, I always felt that there was something missing. When the Queen elected me to lead the party assigned to protect you things changed. I met you.” Mike stepped forward and took hold of Will’s horse by the bridle. He held it still and gently stroked its neck in an effort to calm it down. “I got to know you and knowing you changed me. You changed me. And just now when I said those things… I didn’t-” he faltered.

“I was afraid of the truth.” He said. “Because the truth is, I love you, Will. And I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you. I could never forgive myself. And if you were gone—I’m not sure I remember how to live without you.”

“Mike,” Will said softly.

“You don’t have to say anything, Will.” Mike said. He scrubbed his hand gently between the ears of Will’s horse and avoided Will’s eyes.

“I want to.” Will huffed. He dismounted and came to stand next to Mike. When Mike still refused to look at him, Will reached up and took hold of Mike’s hand where it had gone motionless against his horse’s neck. Mike’s eyes flew to his in surprise and Will smiled. “I feel the same way, Mike.” Mike’s mouth fell open in surprise and Will laughed.

“Did you think I was going to hate you?” Will asked.

“I was afraid you would.” Mike admitted.

“I couldn’t bring myself to hate you even if I wanted to, Mike. Even just now I couldn’t have hated you even though I was so upset. You’re the most important person to me in the whole world, I just didn’t know how to tell you. I love you.”

“I think you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” Mike said softly.

“Really?”

“Definitely.” Mike said. He threaded their fingers together and smoothed his thumb over Will’s knuckles. “May I kiss you?” Mike asked shyly.

“I would like that.” Will replied with a smile.

#byler secret santa #byler secret santa 2022 #bylersecretsanta2022 #byler #i haven’t written anything in FOREVER #so this is very very rusty #not to mention i have never been a very good writer to begin with so #anyway at least it got done #between all the craziness of the holdiays plus sickness plus now a wedding and also packing for school- life has been busy #i’m falling asleep in bed so i’m gonna post and then sleep #i’m gonna set the bar really low and say that i hope it’s not the worst thing you’ve ever read #also please forgive whatever happened to the formatting #nikita writes

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nerdychickshavemorefun · 5 months

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Unhinged Quotes from 1st graders' letters to Santa in my home town

"Dear Santa, why are you happy?"

The kid named Valkyrie with a brother named Thor

"Can you please bring my brother a shark"

"Dear Santa, Hi, are you okay?"

"I want three real horses. Please bring my sister a squishmellow"

"ho ho ho! How does that holly jolly fat man get in my house?"

"Dear Santa, I have been very pleasant with almost everyone. Why don't you just come in through the door?"

"Why did you let one of your elfs loose in our school" (their elf on the shelf)

"How much money do you actually have?"

#christmas #letters to santa #kids being hilarious #out of context quotes

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weemsbotts · 1 year

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Dear Santa Claus: Letters from Local Children in 1909 & 1910

By: Lisa Timmerman, Executive Director

“Santa Claus is an old-fashioned chap, not given to newfangled ideas and notions, and may be that is why the children love him so dearly…” The local newspaper, The Manassas Democrat, asked children to submit their letters to Santa Claus noting, “Santa Claus has made The Democrat the official representative in Manassas and Prince William County (PWC). All letters to Santa Claus should be addressed “Santa Claus, Editor, The Democrat, Manassas, VA.” The editors promised to faithfully send these letters to Santa Claus and children from around PWC took advantage of this exclusive access. Below are notable entries ranging from December 1909 to December 1910. These excellent primary sources provide amusement, family memories, and interesting social commentary as some children tried to identify their family’s needs, at times favoring gifts for their siblings and parents. But not everyone…

Identified Families & Residences: Beale (Haymarket), Brawner (Dumfries), Garnett (Haymarket). Garrison, Jeffries, Kincheloe (Dumfries), Kitenour (Wellington), Leachman (Wellington), Mandley (Bristow), Nicol, O’Neil (Manassas) Rector (Haymarket), Reid (Gainesville), Rouse (Remington), Tubbs, Waters (Dumfries)

The Manassas Democrat, Vol. 1, No. 2, 12/16/1909:

Dear Santa Claus, We are little twin girls, five years old, and we would write and tell you what we want for Christmas. Please send us a really pretty doll, a little gold ring, candy, nuts, and an orange. We are your little friends. Dorothy and Rosalie Rector, Haymarket, VA.

Dear Santa Claus, I am glad that you are still living and able to be about. I am one of your little friends and am seven years old. My mamma has told me how good and kind you are and I know you will not forget me. Please bring me some letter blocks and a fire engine and horses and a horn and some candy and nuts. Your little friend, Harry R. Manassas, VA.

Dear Santa Claus, I am a little girl ten years old. I would like for you to send me a doll and some hair ribbons. I have tried to be a good little girl and wish to receive my presents. You have been to my house every year and I don’t think that you would try to slight me. One of your best friends, Phoebe Rector, Haymarket, VA.

The Manassas Democrat, Vol. 1, No. 52, 12/1/1910:

Dear Santa Claus: I am glad Christmas is nearly here, though I wish it was closer. I will have two stockings hung up by the fireplace and I want you to fill them both with candy, nuts, and other good things. I also want some pins and a locket and a doll. Yours truly, Grace Rouse, Remington, VA.

Dear Santa Claus: I am a little girl 6 years old. Please send me a doll and carriage, a pretty gold ring, and lots of candy, an orange and some bananas. Your friend, Elizabeth O’Neil, Manassas, VA.

The Manassas Democrat, Vol. II, No. 1, 12/08/1910:

Dear Santa Claus: As Christmas is nearly here, I thought I would write and ask you to please bring me a stocking just packed full of goodies, a wagon, a pair of leggings to keep the snow out of my shoes, a gun and some caps. I am a good little boy six years old. I will be sure to lay awake all night and watch for you, so don’t forget to come and be sure to bring my sister lots of nice things, too. I am your little friend. Maxwell, Covington.

Dear Santa Claus: I am a boy twelve years old and I live on a farm. Will you please bring me a fountain pen and some fire works and some good things to eat. You will find my stockings in papa’s bedroom hanging by the fire place waiting to be filled by you. I will try and be a good boy. Your little friend, Burchell Leachman, Wellington, VA.

Dear Santa Claus: I am a little boy, eight years old. I would like you to bring me a sled and an engine and a train of cars that you wind up, and anything else you have to spare. I have two little brothers named Lloyd and Robert Lee. They cannot write yet. So be sure to bring them something. Lewie Tubbs.

My Dear Santa Claus: I will tell you what I would like for Christmas – a great big muff and fur, a pair of rollar skates, a large doll carriage, a little pair of doll gloves, a box of paints, and wish you would bring me some of the Little Pepper books, candy and nuts. I am ten years old. One of your little friends, Ella Garrison.

Dear Santa Claus: I was ten years old on December 5. I am almost a man. When you come to see me, please bring me a pair of rubber boots and a few toys. Your little friend, Shirley M. Reid.

The Manassas Democrat, Vol. II, No. 2, 12/15/1910:

Dear Santa Claus: I am a little girl five years old. Please bring me a doll, a toy satchel filled with dolls clothes, a ring, a stereoscope and lots of comic views, some candies, nuts and oranges, and anything else you wish. I am your little friend, Constance E. Waters, Dumfries, VA.

Dear Santa Claus: As Christmas is nearly here, I thought I would write and ask you to please bring me an air rifle and some shot, a pair of gold sleeve buttons, an umbrella for a raindy day. I don’t want any candy, but please fill my stocking with nuts, oranges and lots of fireworks. I am a little boy nine years old. Your little friend, Leon R. Waters, Dumfries, VA.

Dear Santa Claus: I am a little boy six years old. Please bring me a little high chair for my little sister, Ruth, and bring me a wagon to haul wood for mama, and a cap and an air rifle and lots of candy and oranges and some good grapes and nuts, an overcoat and a sled. Your little friend, William B. Mandley, Bristow, VA.

Dear Santa Claus: I enclose the pictures of the toys I want you to bring me. When I strike oil, I will pay you what they cost and if I don’t strike oil, I will make money getting subscribers for The Ladies’ Home Journal and S. E. Post like I did last year and will send you some. I wont be greedy and ask for more than you can afford to bring me. Just tell your friends to send me their subscriptions. Please do not forget my baby sister who was not here last year. Every year I am going to send you some money to help you buy things for Christmas. Last year I bought me a big doll and doll carriage and a sleigh myself, but would like them better from you. Your good little girl, Cary Nicol.

The Manassas Democrat, Vol II, No. 3, 12/22/1910:

Dear Santa Claus: I’d like for you to bring me a little doll baby, an orange an a banana, a little graphopone and a watch. Please bring mama a great big white elephant. I hope you are well and enjoying yourself. I am a little girl three years old and live at Haymarket, VA. With love, Laura Beale.

Dear Santa Claus: I am a boy six years old, and, if you have any, I want you to bring me a Roman candle that will shoot one hundred times and two packages of fire crackers, a few good things, an orange and a banana, and a golden chariot for me to give mama. I hope you are getting along ‘alright. With love, Herbert Beale, Haymarket, VA.

Dear Santa Claus: I am a little girl ten years old. I will tell you what I would like for Christmas. Please bring me a ring, a breast pin, a pair of boots, a pair of leggings, some ribbon, candy, nuts and lots of nice things to eat and anything else you choose to bring me. Your little friend, Lucille Brawner, Dumfries, VA.

Dear Kris Kringle: I am a little girl only ten years old and the only girl my mother has. I want you to please bring me a great big doll baby and a pair of skates and bring all kinds of good things to eat and anything else you choose. I also have a baby brother. Please, dear Kris Kringle, bring him a carriage for me to ride him in. He is only three months old and I am too small to hold in my lap. And please bring him a rattle and everything else that is pretty. Please, dear Kris Kringle, bring what I ask. From your friend, Lavinour Kitenour, Wellington.

Dear Santa: I am a little boy four years old and have a little sister two years old. Please bring us an automobile, some candy, cakes, oranges and apples, nuts, and everything that is pretty. So we will say goodnight now, for we are sleepy. From your loving little friends, Ethel and Birkery Reid, Gainesville.

Dear Santa Claus: I am a little girl four years old. I have a little baby sister four months old. We are going to hang up our stockings. I want you to bring sister a rattle and a stick of lemon candy. For me a mouth harp and a pair of rubber boots. You can bring us anything else you want to. Some candy would taste good. Good bye. Your little friend, Mabel Lee Kincheloe. Dumfries, VA.

Dear Santa Claus: Will you please bring my brother, Elkins, a cow that will give milk. Sister Margaret’s old toy cow does not give milk, and bring him a bag of crackers, that is all he wants. By his loving brother, Henry Jackson Jeffries.

Dear Santa Claus: I am a little girl seven years old. Last Christmas my papa was in the hospital and I didn’t want much. He is at home now and we are so happy. I do not want much this time. Please bring me a doll tea set, a box of paints, a picture book, and some nuts and anything else you wish to bring me. Good bye. Julia Garnett, Haymarket.

(Sources: The Manassas Democrat, Vol. 1, No. 2, 12/16/1909, The Manassas Democrat, Vol. 1, No. 52, 12/1/1910, The Manassas Democrat, Vol. II, No. 1, 12/08/1910, The Manassas Democrat, Vol. II, No. 2, 12/15/1910, The Manassas Democrat, Vol II, No. 3, 12/22/1910)

Note: Happy Holidays! We appreciate your continued support by reading and sharing our local history blog! If you enjoy our blogs and programs and would like to contribute to the organization, please consider a membership or donation. You can visit our online Square store here and see our seasonal program offerings here!

#letterstosanta #familyhistory #localhistory #community #christmas #newspapers #oldnewspapers #merrychristmas #happyholiday #toys #gifts

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joomma · 2 years

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boomtee · 2 years

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

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i ain't mariah carey, but i really want you

A story about Christmas time, Levi dealing with a crush and the magic of mistletoe.

___

There was one reason why Levi let this happen. Only one reason why he allowed the brats that worked for him put this monstrosity all around his café.

And his reason was his desire, aspiration, hope that one of these days a certain someone will walk in to get her fifth cup of coffee of the morning, and then Levi will approach her to get the order or they’d bump into each other at precisely the right time and place, and – accidentally, miraculously – the two of them will find themselves standing right below the mistletoe.

And then, as tradition dictates, as Levi will have no chance but to do, they’ll share a kiss.

A kiss so good, so heated, yet gentle and with so much love in it that will make all of this – the big ass Christmas tree in the center of the room, ugly chubby kids, disguised as angels, annoying bells, stockings, candles and garlands – fucking worth it.

And if his plan fails, if that Christmas miracle won’t happen— Levi will tear all of this in pieces.

___

In the first couple of days that very quickly turn to a whole damn week, he’s dangerously close to acting on his promise.

The too bright flickering lights abuse his eyes constantly, he listens to Mariah Carey so much, her stupid song starts to play in his mind on repeat, the angels and santa clauses will soon begin to haunt him even in his sleep.

And still, the mistletoe he arranged oh so strategically doesn’t bring him what he wants. Ever since he had agreed to turn his cozy, little café into this horrendous shrine for the holiday he personally hates, Hange, their ever busy professor, hasn’t stepped inside even once.

The stupid finals have her all for themselves, and most of the days she doesn’t have time or energy for as much as a silly banter over text messages or a short phone call.

Even the brats he loathes so much aren’t around as much anymore. Stressed and tired, they show up with giant piles of notebooks and circles under their eyes so big and dark, they start to rival Levi’s. They all look so exhausted and drained, he doesn’t have the heart to scold them for dumb mistakes anymore. It gets so bad that he decides to stop calling them idiots and fools for the time being.

And… as awful as it is to realize, he actually starts missing them; not as much as he misses Hange that abandoned him for some pesky university work, of course, – but he misses them nevertheless now that the only one who helps him around the café is Eren that has been kicked out of the college almost a year ago and so doesn’t have to worry about finals, exams and the rest of the boring academic stuff his friends are obsessing over so much.

However, he too doesn’t escape the clutches of seasonal sadness and behaves much quieter than he usually does. If the reason for it is the absence of his friends or some deeper feelings are involved, it has yet to be discovered. And so during one shift so slow and dull that Levi wants to crawl up on the walls, he decides to amuse himself with something other than wiping the already pristine tables, and calls Eren over.

“Oi,” he hits Eren’s head with a tray, but since he’s bored, looking for a little distraction and actually somewhat worried about him, Levi takes care to do it gentler than usual. “What’s the reason for the sad mien?”

“I’m not sad!” Eren splutters, as fiery as always. “It’s just— these things!” he roughly tears out a small adorable angel from its place near the counter. “They piss me off so much!”

“Ah,” Levi feels like he had cracked the mystery already. He also suspects that the core of the problem is extremely similar to Levi’s own. “Had no luck with our newest addition?” he asks, pointing a finger at the mistletoe hanging not so far away from them.

“Too much luck,” Eren grunts, as the tips of his ears grow red. “I had to kiss that horse-faced Jean three fucking times!”

Oh dear lord, how could Levi miss it? Where was he during all of these occasions? And how his café had survived the making out of one Eren Yeager and Jean Kirshtein?

“Kirshtein is still breathing after that torture you had to endure?”

Eren’s bright green eyes shift to avoid Levi’s. His face is all red now. “Fortunately for the bastard, he’s not a bad kisser.”

Fuck, now Levi misses Hange more than ever. She would be beside herself if he told her about it. She’d be laughing, snorting and rolling on the floor with tears streaming down her face. Should he ever break the news to her, she’d be cackling for hours.

Without her, however, Levi can only hum and wish Eren luck. And to think of it, even Eren is getting something thanks to the mistletoe that was supposed to let Levi have a little something-something with Hange.

But, right now, he’s getting cockblocked by tests and students with failed assignments. Story of his life.

Oh well, at least, it’s working out for someone. Even if that someone, unfortunately, isn't him.

___

To rub salt even deeper into his already massive wound, everyone else around him enjoys the results of all his efforts and hard work (he had to get a ladder to reach the ceiling and hang all of these crappy decorations, goddamn it). Every employee of his – and for a café as small as his is, there are certainly too many of them – has already experienced the magic of mistletoe. Several times, actually.

Armin kissed Eren, then kissed Mikasa, then Mikasa kissed Eren and Jean, and even Sasha. Sasha had given a kiss to all of her friends, creating an art form out of jumping at them right as they stand beneath mistletoe. Ymir is using the damn plant in her favor constantly, tricking Historia into making out with her nearly every five minutes. Several times already, Levi had become an unwilling witness to a kiss between Eren and Jean, a kiss that was too heated and passionate for two boys that are supposedly rivals for life.

Not that Levi had ever had a rival, but are you really supposed to look so flustered every time your eyes meet across the room? Perhaps, he doesn’t know something. Certainly, it’s none of his business.

His business involves only Hange, and, devastatingly, she’s yet to step a foot inside his café. She’s yet to stand underneath mistletoe and fall into his arms.

As it is now, the only thing he holds in his arms are coffee cups and an occasional broom. And the only person the mistletoe had given him was some blonde ugly bastard that was smirking obscenely when Mikasa (the fucking betrayer) pointed out that they both stood beneath mistletoe. The guy was wearing glasses, but he wasn’t Hange. Levi would rather kissed his broom than even consider giving the kiss he reserved only for Hange to that asshole.

Thankfully, the guy turned out to be smarter than he looked, and after one glare, filled with hatred to the brim, from Levi, he’d scatter away, never to be seen again.

And despite it all, Levi still holds onto hope that his plan will work out, the miracle will occur, he’ll finally come clean about his feelings for Hange. If he’s lucky, it will happen before his ears bleed out after listening to Mariah Carey for so long.

There is something they have in common, at least. The only thing Levi wants for Christmas is Hange.

___

It takes another excruciatingly long week of staring at the happy, elated faces of the customers with something embarrassingly close to envy, of witnessing kids make out with each other with a strange mix of annoyance and pride, of listening to Christmas songs, of getting tangled in flamboyant decoration and drawing snowmen and Christmas trees on lattes and cappuccinos before something finally happens.

It’s late at night, and Levi is tired and irritated after a long day of work without the bare amount of help from the kids. And he’s wearing a stupid Santa Hat that Sasha brought the other day. He would never wear something as ridiculous as this thing, but— oh, well, the girl was devastated after failing the exam she spent so much time getting ready, he just didn’t have in him to say no to her. The laugh she gave when she saw him put it on was kinda worth any kind embarrassment he could possibly endure.

The hat is also good at keeping him warm, even if it looks absolutely ludicrous, and there is no one to see and laugh at him anymore, so Levi doesn’t take it off as he prepares the café for closing.

He is dusting the floors when the door opens with a loud chime.

He whips his head around momentarily. The ever present Mariah Carey fades into background, as he fixes the disturber of his fragilely built peace with the fiercest of his glares.

The heat disappears, as soon as he takes a good look at the bundle of clothes and recognizes that it’s Hange who is wearing them.

Hange. At last, in his café.

Mariah Carey gets so much louder, now singing about how much she wants her baby for her own. The beating of his heart drowns out her sugary voice, but certainly— Levi can relate.

Carefully, he puts the broom down, yet not entirely sure if Hange is actually real. Can a person develop a crush so bad, they start hallucinating? Or is Levi the first one to achieve this marvelous feat?

“Hi,” Hange lifts a hand, so awkwardly it’s kinda painful to look at. “Did I catch at the wrong moment?”

“No!” it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he answers, but— what is she talking about? With Hange, the moment simply can’t be wrong. “I was just… cleaning. Didn’t expect you to show up today.”

“Sorry,” Hange snickers, more relaxed now. “I get so wrapped in work at the end of the year. You know how it is.”

Levi can see how bad it is too. Hange looks – for a lack of better word – like a complete mess. Coat haphazardly thrown over too long sweater and a lab coat she probably forgot to take off before clocking out, greasy hair that sticks out in all possible direction, slumped shoulders and bloodshot eyes – she looks worse than all the students Levi has seen during this week combined.

“I’ll get you a drink,” he heads back to the counter, the broom entirely forgotten. “Don’t worry, it’s on the house.”

“Thank you,” Hange shrugs off her coat and takes a seat at the long chair that stands next to the counter. Her eyes follow Levi’s every move, making him feel extra self-conscious. “You’re really kind to me, Levi.”

In answer, Levi just snorts, not bothering to grunt at her to cut the bullshit. They’ve been over this before, too many times. As far as he’s aware, there is nothing that can stop Hange from giving him half-earned compliments.

“Nice hat, by the way,” she leans over the counter to reach out to him and give the pompon at the tip of his hat a teasing tug. More than anticipating this, Levi weakly pushes her away. Hange’s delighted laugh carries around the empty café.

So much more pleasant that Mariah Carey’s singing, Levi can’t help but think.

“So are you the Christmas elf of this café?”

Levi gives her a disappointed look. “Obviously, I’m Santa.”

Hange lowly whistles, seemingly impressed. “You’ve got to be the grumpiest one I’ve ever met,” she pauses, fingers drumming against the table. “You’re making me coffee, I hope?”

“Absolutely not,” he answers without missing a beat. “By now, half of your bloodstream consists of this poison. I’m not giving you any more of it.”

Of course, Hange wants to protest, she even opens her mouth to do so. Levi cuts her off before that happens.

“I’m giving you this shit on the house. Take it or leave.”

Hange sighs, but does so with a smile. “Alright, give me your healthy beverage, oh caring Santa. You can make even tea taste divine, anyway.”

Levi rolls his eyes at yet another backhanded praise and stupid retort. Hange’s hot chocolate is almost ready, but now there is another problem on the raise. He has to hand the steamy cup to her, however he also wants to receive that kiss at last, because he was a good boy and he waited, and who knew when Hange would grace him with her presence again.

So act he must.

And since there is no mistletoe over the counter, but there is one just a little to the left, above one of the tables, that’s where Hange should be sitting. That’s where he should bring her order, so that by a virtue of a complete accident, the two of them will miraculously get under the spell of the mistletoe.

Plan prepared, Levi deems it’s time to set it in the motion.

“Get your ass away from here.”

Hange gapes, surprised, but thankfully – not at all offended. She raises an eyebrow, as though to humor him, but Levi pushes further, too nervous now to participate in their banter.

“I have already cleaned this part, go and sit at one of tables.”

Blessed be the Christmas miracles, but Hange stands up and does as he has told. With heart close to jumping out of his ribcage, Levi waits to see what table she will choose. He waits and waits and waits, and—

Bingo, she sits down at the table that stands directly below the mistletoe. A cup of hot chocolate in hand, Levi quickly approaches her.

He hands her the drink, but Hange doesn’t let him put it on the table like a normal person would. No, the damn abnormal stands up to take it directly from his hand. Their fingers brush against each other, and as though in slow motion Levi watches Hange flick her gaze upwards, then down to the place where their fingers are still touching.

What happens next is nothing short of a disaster.

Levi is not completely sure which one of them was at fault here. He doesn’t know which one of them (an honest part of him suspects that it was him) was panicked enough to squeeze the paper cup.

The result was all the same – the ruined cup, the spilled drink and a loud shriek coming from Hange that got her hand burned by boiling liquid.

They blurt ‘Fuck, I’m sorry!’ at the same time. Even that doesn't make Levi feel any better about the dumb accident.

“C’mon,” he leaves the pool of brown water on the floor be, grabbing Hange’s uninjured hand and dragging her to the supply closet.

He reaches the faucet and holds her hand in his, as the cold water starts to soothe the pain of the burn.

“It’s not that bad,” Hange tries to argue but Levi shushes her, his eyes narrowed as he waits for the redness disappear.

He doesn’t talk, afraid to even glance at her, as he watches the water fall. He was an idiot, what’s new, but this time Hange got hurt because he can’t find the courage to confess the way all normal people do.

“Hey,” Hange bumps her hip against his. The gentleness with which she speaks soothes Levi just like cold water soothes the burn. “It’s fine, Levi. It’s not even the first burn I’ve received this week.”

Levi jerks his head up, eyes dark. He can’t help the anger and concern that seep inside his voice when he asks, “What the fuck do you mean by not the first one?”

Hange, the ever madman, just shrugs. “Finals week. It gets crazy sometimes.”

“You are crazy all the time,” he mumbles, as he turns off the faucet. With more care than majority of the people who know him are aware he’s capable of, he dries her hand with a towel. Then, after sitting Hange down on a worn-out couch, he wraps the injured part of her with a bandage, each move and flick of wrist slow, methodical and careful.

As she watches him work, Hange is uncharacteristically quiet. She breathes in deeply, when Levi ties the bandage at the end.

“You know…” she starts, her head tilted to meet his eyes. “I’ve said that it doesn’t really hurt, but even so…”

“Even so?” he mindlessly repeats, hypnotized by the blush that starts spreading through her cheeks.

“You can kiss it better. If you want to,” she adds hastily, not that it helps Levi’s mind out of its stupor.

A moment passes, in complete silence. And as soon as his neurons start kicking again, however, they do a piss-poor job at it.

“I don’t—” he shouts, like an idiot.

The heartbroken look, reflected on Hange’s face, is terrible enough to break his own. “You don’t?”

“I don’t—” he stops abruptly, slapping his forehead in frustration. With some of his brain cells back, he takes a deep breath, fighting tooth and nail to not shrivel in mortification. “I don’t…” he tries again, aware that he sounds worse than an extremely dumb parrot. “I don’t not want. I just— this whole kissing thing, I planned it a bit differently.”

“Oh…” a smile, tentative at first, but growing in intensity with each second, spreads across her lips. “You’ve planned it all, huh? So the mistletoe…”

With the cat out of its bag, Levi simply shrugs. “All of them were meant for you.”

“And the funny hat?”

He bristles. “That was an unexpected addition.”

“I liked it!” Hange praises, as enthusiastic as a puppy. “And the mistletoe as well! Didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

“I thought I’d try for you…”

Hange makes a face at that, a mix between the expression that she sports when she’s close to crying her eyes out at some stupid melodrama and that expression that she puts on whenever she looks at her terrible pet tarantulas. Perhaps, the fact that seeing it directed on him makes him so damn pleased is another sign that he’s a sicko, but… at least, he’s not alone in it, right?

“There is no mistletoe here, but if you’re okay with that…”

Levi nods, worried that he won’t find his voice right now.

Hange nods back, and then she closes her eyes, leaning closer to him. Levi helps her shorten the distance by putting a hand on her neck - it fits perfectly there, like it was meant to be, like they were meant to be.

Considering all that has transpired tonight, perhaps, they really are.

When her lips are millimeters from his, Levi closes his eyes as well. After that, all that’s left for him to do is to enjoy the kiss he waited to get for so long.

The kiss is not heated as he was predicting, but no less perfect. It is slow, measured, gentle and delicate, soft and adoring. When Hange smiles into the kiss, he feels happiness so acute, it makes his head dizzy.

If he strains his hearing, Levi can still hear Mariah Carey blasting behind the closed door. Once he gathers enough strength to let Hange out of his arms, he’ll turn the damned song off.

Who needs Christmas spirit, Santa Claus, and mistletoes anyway? Levi has his miracle right in front of him.

#posting christmas fic even before halloween? only hot bitches do that <3 #levihan

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captainfashionshirtsus · 4 years

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Dear Santa Just bring horses Plaid Christmas Tree shirt and make you long for your privacy again. My father helps me with the rent of a space for

#DEAR SANTA JUST BRING HORSES PLAID CHRISTMAS TREE SHIRT

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verai-marcel · 3 years

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Holiday Surprise (RDR2 Fanfic, Charles x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Charles have been together for a few months, but after the two of you officially got together, all of your couplings had been rather soft and sweet. Despite how nice it was with him, you wanted something naughtier, something rougher, something more. And you knew exactly how to get it from him.

Author’s Notes: Secret Santa gift for my dear @fangirl-ramblings! A little naughty Christmas story about getting railed by a very giving, very loving Charles Smith. I’d say this takes place in 1907, after the events of the game, while Charles is making his way north towards Canada.

Tags: Charles x F!Reader, smutty smut smut, holiday feels, probably some holiday anachronisms, tied up wrists, light bdsm, some spanking, rough sex, doggy style, creampie

Word Count: 3139

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

You were a fiery, passionate woman, with the wits and cunning for making money from any situation, although you drew the line at taking advantage of the poor and pitiful. Anyone else, however, was fair game. It was with this mindset that you had tricked dozens of men who fell for your charms, believing that you would spend a night in their arms. Instead, you just drugged their whiskey and left town with their cash stuffed down your corset as you traveled to the next town, galloping away on your horse and howling in victory.

But then you met your match, when, on your way through Montana, you ran into a man with black hair, a dark complexion, and the warmest brown eyes you had ever seen. His face had scars that told an intriguing tale, and you had longed to trace every line.

With every intention to fuck and run, you seduced him, riding his thick cock under the river of stars on a summer’s night. The sounds of your pleasure enraptured him, and he breathed your name as if it was his final prayer to the heavens as he spent himself all over your soft skin. When he awoke, you were gone, with his purse in your possession and lingering regrets in your heart.

He tracked you, chased you to the edge of the country, and when he finally caught you, he kissed you before picking you up and taking you into the forest, away from the road where a passerby might see you.

“Did you really think you could get rid of me, wildcat?”

You were taken then, hard and fast on the forest floor, giving in completely to his wanton possession. Wrapping your arms and legs around him, you screamed his name as you let go, your release taking over your body, your heart, your soul.

“Charles, Charles!”

He tied you down with ropes and dark, carnal words, and you never, ever, wanted him to let you go.

***

A few months later, the two of you had become inseparable. Charles was a good man to you; he treated you as an equal, able to do the same amount of work, if not the same type. And he never disrespected your abilities. Currently, the two of you live in a small cabin on a ranch in Montana where the two of you had met.

You had changed your ways, using your wits to help with logistics at a ranch, helping with scheduling deliveries, while Charles worked with the animals. His gentle touch had him working with the cattle and horses the most, and while that meant long hours, he still made time to take care of you almost every night, whether it was making you a meal if you were tired, or giving you a massage to relax you on nights when you had to do a lot of paperwork.

Many nights, his gentle care turned into slow love making, his hands and mouth worshipping your body until you pushed him down and rode him passionately, taking every last drop of him. But he never fucked you the way he did that night. He never tied you up, even when you begged for it. Sex was fun, but your thoughts always strayed back to that one night when he lost his calm and fucked you like a raging beast, holding you down, stuffing you full of his thick shaft over and over again until you cried from the number of times you released around him.

You hated to say it, but you longed for more passion, more lust from him. Charles was like a cute puppy, always eager to please you, but you knew deep inside of him, a wolf was just clawing under the surface, ready to leap out and dominate you. Perhaps he was afraid that he’d hurt you, or that he’d scare you with the intensity of his desire. However, you were not afraid; rather, you wanted to see this side of him, wanted him to lose control like he did that night.

You just had to bring it out of him.

With Christmas fast approaching, you were making secret preparations, on top of the small holiday dinner the two of you were already planning. Working on this ranch meant the two of you had your own little cabin on the land so you could be close to the barn, with relative privacy. For fun, you had decorated the walls with strings of popcorn and wreaths made with pine tree branches and pine cones. Charles had helped you hang your decorations, and had gathered whatever items you needed to make your home just a bit more festive. He got extra candles from the general store, cut a portion of a pine tree and brought it inside for you to decorate. He even bought you ingredients so you could make star-shaped cookies to adorn the tree.

He got you everything you wanted, except for one thing. You hoped that your secret gift would entice him into giving you exactly what you wanted.

***

“All done for the day?” you asked as Charles came in from the snow on the evening before Christmas, stamping his boots before taking them off.

“Yup. Cattle are all settled, horses are safe in the barn with enough hay for a few days.” He took off his coat and hung it on the coat hook next to the door, patting off the accumulated snow. “Looking forward to our day off?”

“Sure am,” you replied as you got up and walked over to hug him. “But first, look above you.”

Charles looked up and grinned at what he saw. “Mistletoe, huh?” Leaning down, he gave you a chaste peck on the lips. “As if I needed an excuse to kiss you.”

You pulled him down and kissed him again, forcing him to prolong the contact by digging your hands into his lush hair. Opening your lips, you licked his bottom lip, encouraging him to open his and invited his tongue to a dance, the kiss deepening as your desire heated your body.

But his movements were unhurried, his big hands sliding down your body slowly so he could enjoy the curve of your hips and your backside. He finally pulled back, making you whimper. “Sweetness,” he murmured, tracing your cheekbone tenderly, “you need to eat first. Then we can play.”

You huffed and pulled away from him, both annoyed that he was right and playing the part of being a brat, hoping that he’d lose some patience with you.

Raising an eyebrow, Charles said nothing more as he led you towards the kitchen, and the two of you made your meal and ate it peacefully at the table.

It wasn’t until after everything was cleaned and put away that you tried again.

“Charles,” you cooed. “I have a surprise for you.”

He looked at you, curious. “Oh?”

“Close your eyes.”

He obeyed without question.

You got up from your chair and went to the chest of drawers, digging into the bottom of the lowest drawer and pulling out one part of your special gift. Going back to stand before him, you undid the top three buttons of your blouse so that your cleavage peaked out. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, not because you were nervous, but because you were getting too excited. “Open your eyes.”

Charles did so, and his eyes immediately traveled to your chest. You could feel his hot gaze as if it were his fingers, tracing the curves of your breasts. It was as if just his stare alone could caress your nipples, for they suddenly ached with need.

Then he saw the rope in your hands. It was a horsehair rope that you had made in your spare time, diligently weaving and re-weaving it until it was strong enough to hold someone, but soft to the touch. He looked back up at your face in confusion.

“I want you to tie me up,” you purred, setting the rope down on the table and undoing your skirt buttons in front of him. He sat, entranced by the fabric gliding down your body, revealing your bare thighs. You had chosen not to wear any drawers tonight; you wanted to tease him as much as possible, to break his hold on his self-control.

You could see the outline of his bulge in his pants as he swallowed audibly. “Sweetness,” he rasped, “what’re you on about?”

Undoing the rest of your blouse, you revealed your other secret gift: a chemise and corset that pushed your breasts up. The chemise was dyed black to complement the dark red of the corset, with its black ribbons and lace.

Charles let out a low rumble. “Such a beautiful lady,” he murmured. “C’mere, let me touch you.”

You shook your head. Grabbing the rope from the table, you pushed him back on the chair and wrapped it around him twice. Tying a square knot at his chest, you smiled. “No touching.”

He tested the ropes, wriggling in his seat. It was clear to both of you that if he chose to, he could easily get free, but he decided to play your game. For now.

So you went down on your knees and slowly undid the buttons of his pants and then his drawers, looking up at him to smile and watch his reaction as you nuzzled his bulge. When you finally reached in and freed his cock, stroking him into full hardness, he was breathing heavily.

With your eyes locked onto his, you took him into your mouth. He groaned, his hips jerking upwards. You put your hands on his thighs and started to suck on him in earnest, bobbing your head up and down, slowing your rhythm when you felt him tensing, and speeding up when you could hear him catching his breath. After a while, you reached down to stroke your clit while you sucked on him, letting your own moans vibrate against his shaft. Your tongue swirled around the head of his cock, making him let out a prolonged moan.

“How long are you going to keep me on edge?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

You grinned as you gave him one last lick and stood up. Straddling him, you grasped his hardness and lowered yourself slowly, sinking onto him one inch at a time until he was completely sheathed in you. You felt him twitch inside of you, and you laughed gleefully.

“I’m warning you,” he rumbled.

“Warning me of what?” you sneered, lifting yourself off him until on the tip was inside. “What are you goin’ to do? You’re. Nothing. But. A. Cuddly. Puppy,” you taunted, punctuating your words with each bounce, sliding halfway down before moving back up.

Charles growled before flexing, the square knot that you had so haphazardly tied loosening like his self-control. He reached up and untied it, setting himself free before grabbing onto your hips and pulling you down to grind hard against him.

“A puppy, huh?” He picked you up, holding you close and walked over to the bed. He nearly shoved you down; his roughness made you shiver with anticipation. He ripped off his clothes in a rush before grabbing the rope and stalking towards you, that primal lust in his eyes, just like that wondrous night. You felt your pussy flow with your desire, as if it knew what was about to happen.

“You want this?” he growled, grabbing your wrists and tying them together. Without waiting for your answer, he flipped you over and folded you until you were on your knees. Slapping your ass, he uttered, “On your knees.”

You quickly obeyed, craving his command. Caressing your backside, he rubbed the head of his cock against your folds, dipping inside of you just a little bit before pulling out to rub against your clit. Over and over, he teased you until you were begging for him to fuck you.

“I don’t think so, sweetness. You tortured me so ruthlessly. I think I owe you the same.” Then he leaned over, one arm holding himself up as he gripped your chin and turned your head to the side to meet his gaze. “Or are you goin’ to be a good girl?”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

A feral grin grew on his face as he let go of your jaw. His hands suddenly grasped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. “Have it your way.”

That was your only warning before he plunged inside of you with a low snarl. Staying inside of you, he pressed you down onto the bed, his chest against your back. His hands slid up your body, one arm wrapping around your shoulders, the other digging into your hair. Moving his hips up slowly, he chuckled darkly into your ear before starting a ruthless pace. Charles fucked you hard, making the bed bounce with the strength of his powerful thrusts.

You cried out, your screams louder than the winter wind outside. Wrapping one hand around your mouth to stifle your sounds, he kept pounding into you, his deep moans of pleasure in your ear.

“That’s it girl, take what I give you,” he uttered into your ear. “It’s what you need, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes Charles, I need your cock inside of me, I need to be fucked!” you babbled when Charles let go of your mouth. You were losing your mind as he took you with an intense need to mark you as absolutely, decisively his.

He stopped long enough to roll the two of you over, his cock still sheathed inside of you. Reaching down, he stroked your core with one hand as he grabbed your breast and squeezed, teasing your nipple as he gave you shallow thrusts. Your body tightened when he slapped your breast before reaching around you to rub and pinch the other one, giving it the same treatment.

“I can feel your pussy tighten around me. You’re close, aren’t you?”

You could only moan as he rubbed your center harder, faster.

“Come for me, sweetness. Show me how much you love having my cock inside of you.”

You let out a strangled cry as your climax hit you hard, your legs straightening out, your toes curling, the sweat from your body making you slippery in his grasp as he tried to hold you down. He wrung every last spasm of pleasure from you, not letting up the sweet, sinful pressure on your core until you started begging for him to stop.

“You don’t want me to stop,” he teased, gently rolling you off of him. He got up to kneel before you, positioning you with your back on the bed, your legs spread wide open and still twitching from your last climax. Pressing his cock against your oversensitized clit, he rubbed against you, watching you writhe with too much pleasure, driving you insane.

“Oh my lord, fuck, oh god,” you rambled as your hips twisted back and forth, trying to avoid his touch. But Charles grabbed your hips and held you down as he rocked his hips back and forth, his shaft sliding around your sensitive areas. You could only whimper as you knew you were helpless to resist him now.

Not that you wanted to. Your pussy still dripped with how much you wanted him to fuck you.

Charles let you breathe for a moment before he leaned forward and pushed his member deep inside of you with one stroke. “You want my spend, wildcat?”

“Yes!” you hissed, lifting your hips up. “I want it, I need it!”

“Of course you do. And only I can give it to you,” he rumbled as he started thrusting, slowly at first, then moving faster and faster as he lost control of himself. He fell upon you, like a hungry wolf onto his prey, covering you with his wide chest, his big, muscular arms surrounding you and holding you close. “Tell me you want it inside.”

“Yes, please Charles, spend inside of me, I want it deep,” you begged.

Charles let out a guttural moan as he thrust hard, pushing inside of you as deep as he could, and stayed there as he released himself inside of you, filling you full. He let out a few more grunts of exertion, lifting his hips and pumping more inside of you until you felt his release spilling from your body.

“Fuck,” he sighed, contentedly. Then he suddenly lifted off of you and collapsed beside you. He reached up and untied your wrists, frowning at the red marks on your skin.

“You alright, sweetness?” he asked, kissing each of your wrists.

“I’m better than alright,” you replied, drunk on the intense afterglow. Cuddling closer to him, you hummed happily when you felt him wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest.

“I’m glad,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Guess I should’ve known you could handle me being… a little rougher with you.”

You looked up at him. “What stopped you before?”

Charles cupped your cheek and looked at you so tenderly that you nearly teared up. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.

You gently flicked his nose with your finger. “You silly man. I’ll tell you if something hurts.”

“You usually don’t.”

You opened your mouth to argue before you realized that he was right. You usually didn’t complain about aches and pains, but he would see you stretching or groaning and would chastise you for not telling him. “This is different. But I promise I’ll tell you if I’m hurt from now on,” you said.

“Thank you.” He kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose. “Ready to sleep, sweetness?”

You nodded and yawned.

He chuckled as he nuzzled you with his cheek. “Good night, my love.”

***

“Happy Christmas, my sweet flower,” Charles said as you awoke, blinking your eyes as the dawn light filtered in through the one window of your cabin. Nestling into his chest, you wanted to sleep for a little longer, but knowing what an early bird Charles was, you grumbled and started to get up.

“Who said anything about getting out of bed,” he said, pulling you back down on top of him. You felt the long hard length of him against your thigh and saw the sly smile on his face.

Straddling him, you rolled your hips and coated his cock with your wetness. “My mistake,” you joked. “Guess you’ll need to teach me the right way to spend Christmas morning.”

He rolled the two of you over and slipped his cock inside of you slowly. “Gladly,” he said before kissing you and starting a gentle rhythm that sent you soaring.

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

End Notes: Merry Christmas @fangirl-ramblings! Hope you like your secret santa gift!!!

#charles smith #rdr2 #charles x fem!reader #nsft #writing #rdr2 fanfic #fanfic #lemon fanfic

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 3 years

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Responses from the Opera Screencaps Captioning Quiz

Hello, everyone, and thank you for taking my quiz! I had SO MUCH fun reading your captions-- there were several times I literally started crying from laughing so hard at the amazingness of your work! With that in mind, the captions (which I will continue to add onto as more people take it):

(also, thank you to @dichterfuerstin for translating the German captions I got)

originally taken from: the Wiener Staatsoper’s 2020 production of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail, featuring Regula Mühlemann (center) as Blonde, Michael Laurenz (right) as Pedrillo, and an unnamed extra (left) as the Grim Reaper

Responses:

(Backstage warm-up) “ok so someone dropped the pulse”

me and my friends watching the fire burn after doing arson

Introducing the polycule to the parents

*boom* ... did...you guys hear that too?

Ma Signor !

Knight in whinging armour gone wrong, look at how he holds the egg. Polyamory with weird knight and death.

the father, son and the holy ghost are very gay

the gays meeting for brunch, 2021, colorized

chicken lady forces death and a very flamboyantly homosexual anthropomorphized pink bird to be parents of her egg (they dont want to be)

That’s just me and my friends on our night out (before covid rip)-- closest

A Good Friday night

good omens (2019)

["the pocket guide to boy/girl/mischief" meme] who's the boy and who's the mischief though????

Papageno and Papagena take their first-born egg trick-or-treating

Angry Birds - The Musical. A pig stole an egg and the bird unites with death to take revenge.

I love my bird wife

Someone got murdered during the funky chicken dance

throuple murders child and steals sibling of said child

When you and your friends have widely different tastes in literature

angel leading twink to his rightful place (hell)

draco malfoy from a very potter musical and a death eater are very much in the wrong show

What have I gotten myself into

Mlm/wlw solidarity but I’m not telling who is who

A woman stands with a pink dipshit with an egg and a reaper.

A bird-couple makes a pact with Death, sacrificing their first-born bird-child in order to bring good luck upon their unborn bird-baby

There are three types of people on Halloween:

Uh oh, I don’t think the mother hen is very happy about this...

oh god, they’ve invented seussical. It’s too early!

gay brunch

Three little maids from school are we

guys maybe if we dress gay enough we can distract everyone from the dead flapper bee in the back

those three killed a duck for her egg and are facing the conswquences.

Duck has egg with human, shocked and upset due to biological impossibility

When you bout to make a banging omelet so you invite your fellow queers

"No mortal man could pass that egg, but heaven shall repair your rectum."

originally taken from: the Salzburg Festival’s 2007 production of Hector Berlioz’s Benvenuto Cellini, featuring Maija Kovalevska (left) as Teresa Balducci, Laurent Naouri (center, in chimney) as Fieramosca, and Burkhard Fritz (right) as Benvenuto Cellini

Responses:

“In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so: And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.” - a midsummer night’s dream, act v scene 1

"ah yes a prime specimen. see here, right in this box is our one of a kind hob goblin that can be all yours for the low low price of your soul"

what, YOU don't have a special eavesdropping chimney window?

Hänsel und Gretel plotting against the witch

man takes a wrong turn and ends up in a chimney, catches his girlfriend cheating-- closest

when you end up third wheeling the straight couple

lady cheats on her leather jacket wearing scummy boyfriend and when he unexpectedly comes home she hides the lover in the chimney

A straight girl and her gay best friend gossip about stuff idk

Idk Shakespeare?

experimental couples therapy feat. the chimney mf from mary poppins

Area Couple Inadvertently Traps Santa-in-Training in Chimney as they Attempt Rooftop Flirting

Landlords laugh over student renter's misfortune

I never asked for this

Ay yo lil mama lemme whisper in your ear

voyeurist listens to sandy and Danny from grease

Psssst! Did you hear about Susan? You won’t believe it!

lady and the tramp meets beauty and the beast?

human trafficking

And for just $30 you too could have your own tiny brick cage!

Psst I’m wearing assless chaps under this dress

A couple tortures a man in a box.

It's all fun and games being stuck in a chimney until your greasy uncle steals your crush from right above you-- okay ngl this could actually be a great Don Pasquale concept

Taking eavesdropping to the next level

Will you two stop being lovey dovey and let me out? SUMMER LOVIN, HAPPENED SO FAST—

overhearing how people talk about you when they think they're alone puts you in the shithouse

Does he know we can see him?

dear god, i am so fucking hungry, yall please just do whatever heterosexuals do so i can go eat a popsicle

the human version of the trash man from sesame street is realizing that those two are going to fuck on his trash can

Tmw you capture an angry short dude and start trashtalking him where he can hear

Omg what if we kissed but we actually kissed the lil goblin man under us

"Remember, don't feed him after midnight"

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Leonardo Estevez (right, on fake horse) as Le Comte d’Oberthal

Responses:

“When I said we needed to drain the swamp I didn’t think there were people actually living there”

horse? what horse? no sir i dont know what horse youre referring to.

definitely don't have a napoleon complex going on

King stole La Scala‘s Lohengrin set

king breaks all his horses, has to use statue dragged by servants as transportation because he’s too kingly too walk

Emperor Söder and his subjects on a carnival procession

man on horse makes a big deal out of being on a horse

That’s not Zeffirelli because the horse is not alive

Who the fuck put a horse on the stage

isn't this that picture of napoleon on the horse

Area Count Thinks Citizens will be Intimidated by his Extremely Fake-looking Horse Statue-- closest

Everyone wants their turn on the giant plaster horse. Police are there to make sure everyone waits their turn.

Night out with the lads

Local royalty horrified at the state of his own damn kingdom

gay army fights different gay aesthetics-- hi author how does it feel to be the funniest fucking person on this quiz

Well at least I LOOK badass

ceasar if he hadn't gotten stabbed (colourised)

some soldiers jumped out of my kindergarten fairytale collection book to burn the don carlos flemish deputies at the stake

It’s just a model

Is that how you feel pulling up in your Honda Civic, Madge?

Someone rides a horse statue in public.

Just a normal party with the bros.

what is this, some kind of crossover episode?

Terribly sorry for all the fuss, it’s just, that is, my horse is afraid of neck ruffles. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he’s—whoaaa there—he said he was a french courtier in a past life and he’s allergic to English fashion

Horse seller, listen to me! I am riding into battle. I need your strongest horse. - We have horses at home. - The horses at home:

All hail Incitatus the king

we are not ripping off shakespeare’s henry viii. what the fuck. this is about lenny xi you uncultured swine, go drown in a pit of your own farts

oh god is that hamilton

Guy Removed From Art Museum For Sitting On Statue, more at eleven

Gay <3

Officer: This horse... is a virgin! Crowd: *cheers*

originally taken from: the Parma Verdi Festival’s 2017 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Stiffelio, featuring Maria Katzarava (left) as Lina and Luciano Ganci (right) as Stiffelio

Responses:

That One kid in class

its a mEntAL BreAkDowN *final countdown but kazoo*

*record scratch* yeah, that's me. you're probably wondering how I got here-- closest

Dad keeps monologuing, teenager is done

left: all of my concerned friends, right: my emo ass having a very public mental breakdown

the demons in the corner of my room when im just trying to sleep

lady gets mansplained to (do i need to say more, we've all been there)

It’s probably an area baritone telling off an area soprano-- sorry; it’s a tenor. soprano is right though.

That was a fake horse in the last photo right?

child comes out as gay to father at a particularly bad time

dissociation solves everything

I can't believe it's not butter

Honey we talked about this

My sleep paralysis demon is Crowley from supernatural

child has nightmare of boring job

When you start dating a singer but he won’t stop practicing at night

just an average day in a hetero marriage

what do i do my wife's having period cramps again

Stop having an existential crisis. It’s time to sing!

“No son of mine will kin Gomez Addams under MY roof”

Crowley stares into space while a teen has post nut clarity.

When he wont stop reciting jordan peterson monologues!!

Do you realize how effed you are?

Ugh, not this lecture again! Dad’s Practicing For His Experimental Indie Band Again

asking your parents for help with your own personal situation and them just ranting off about what they went through instead of helping in any way

Will he shut up already!

no one tell him he’s yelling in the wrong direction, no one tell him plnsbdjddhdj

this kid is tired of his dad listening to rush limbaugh (a man who claimed to be pro life but died anyway)

Me internally vs externally

Daddy issues

originally taken from: the Grand Théâtre de Genève’s 2020 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots, featuring several chorus members

Responses:

It’s the deadly eye Of Poogley-pie. Look away, look away, As you walk by, ‘Cause whoever looks right at it Surely will die. It’s a good thing you didn’t … You did? … Good-bye. - shel Silverstein

why the fuckith? my good sir, i beg of you to put your pants back on

I hate this itchy hat

Titanic Extras hear that they have to do extra hours

people waiting to board the titanic watch someone fall off the plank

pov: you’re a time traveler

guy in the flatcap is embarrassed by patriotism and pathos

No idea. For some reason Le Marseillaise comes to mind

Is this from Harry Potter?

disneyland main street usa workers on strike

local tries to hide behind Newsies cap to avoid unpleasant but inevitable conversations. meanwhile, some very fashionable ladies look on.

"Thank fuck, 2020 was just a dream after all"

“We gather here today because this bitch got exactly what she deserved” “heaven!” “Stfu Stephanie she’s going to hell and we all know it”-- not quite but this basically happens later on in the opera (and act) so yeah (except the person in question very much Did Not Deserve It)

dc movie filter on bridgerton

america?

looks like my history teacher paused the prohibition documentary again

Who still wears page boy hats bro?

Coming out to a room of people who Already Knew That

Bitches are relieved at some party.

Several drunk people exiting getting off the subway attempting to seem sober and rational but realizing they have somehow lost all of their possessions

How tf do I act natural in this situation-- closest

“do you think any of them noticed that I don’t know the pledge of allegiance”

It's too fucking hot outside for this outfit

when hyyh yoonkook ending just hits different

pedestrians watch in horror as the triangle shirtwaist factory burns and the workers throw themselves out of the windows from a dozen stories up

Starting the pledge of allegiance be like

He's having a heart attack oh no oh god oh fuck

originally taken from: if I remember correctly, the Semperoper Dresden’s 2018 semi-staging of Johann Strauss II’s Die Fledermaus, with Jonas Kaufmann as Gabriel von Eisenstein

Responses:

“William Shakespeare wrote: "To thine own self be true And it must follow, as the night the day Thou canst not then be false to any man" I believe this wise statement best applies to a woman A blonde woman Over the past three years she taught me And showed us all That being true to yourself never goes out of style Ladies and gentlemen Our valedictorian: Elle Woods!” - legally blonde the musical

eat ass, suck a dick, and sell drugs

woooooorrrrd

Finally Jonas has graduated! It’s about time, considering he’s an international star.

what my professors think they look like

Prof. Dr. Dr. When someone tells him there are more than two genders

'and since you've now graduated high school, you'll be entering college etc. blablabla' .........meanwhile, there's a whole row of graduates daring each other to chug the cheap vodka one of them has brought in gallons (yes that happened at my graduation, lol)

Jonas darling baby <3-- can’t argue with that

I just realized I have no idea what the actual fuck happens in an opera

ok this one is just what jonas kaufmann always wears you can't fool me.

"as valedictorian i will share with you the importance of loving the floor"

"Yes, mother, my art degree will make me money!"

Graduation speakers are out, singers are in

Senior year takes a new meaninbg

mansplainer professor explains the concept of feminism to women

Your Prof when you finally turn in that missing assignment be like

younger boris johnson (derogatory)

jonas kaufmann retires from opera and takes up motivational speaking

What a fine graduation evening we’re having today

-70 points for slytherin you all have no swag

A man with a college hat sings.

An obviously greying actor trying to play a university student in a low-budget porn parody

How it feels to graduate high school after being held back for years

East High is a place where teachers encouraged us to break the status quo and define ourselves as we choose. Where a jock can cook up a mean crème brûlée, and a brainiac can break it down on the dance floor-

I may not have been "cool" in high school, but in ten years you will all be working for me!

I finally got my GED!

that one guy in ur intro to cultural anthropology class who mansplains to the professor somehow fucking graduated

he;s just graduating and taking his speech too serously idk

Graduation speeches with that one dude who got held back 3 times

Smrt

originally taken from: the Metropolitan Opera’s 2011 staging of Gioachino Rossini’s Le Comte Ory with Joyce DiDonato (left) as Isolier, Diana Damrau (center) as Countess Adèle, and Juan Diego Florez (right) as Le Comte Ory (disguised as a hermit)

Responses:

There is something very [disturbing grunts] About polyamorous couples - polyamorous, Chris Fleming

jinkies

femme fatale (including to herself)

I’ll have a threesome soon !

Hot guy walks by, everyone swoons.

thirdwheeling friend does not realize the other two are having sex

When your girlfriend had „just two beers“ again

jesus is exasperated about having to drag the two ladies towards doing what he needs them to do instead of purple dramatically declaring suicidal intent over the smallest trivial matters and red being equally dramatic about declaring that it's not the way! stay alive! i love you!!

The throuple is thriving

Get off the milf

orgy

my last three braincells because im a horny slut

countess receives too much love and is confused on how to react

Rasputin's lesser known romp with a much older czarina of russia

Woman's soul leaves body

Jesus and co. are worried after another woman gets pregnant without having sex

bisexual looks at photos of celebrity couples

When you go to the party to socialize with new people but your weirdo friend group starts getting clingy

Jesus cumming

one of those weird church christmas pageants but everybody's drunk

What have I done

Hozier??????????

Jesus assfucks some purple lady being hugged.

This time, the chick IS the magnet

An affair/threesome gone awry (2019 colorized)

What do you mean they canceled GLOW?

“I TOLD you it was cashmere!”

Are you wearing the - - The Gucci dress? Yes I am.

It's not what it looks like!

jesus is fucking that one cheerleader who grew up to be a suburban mom with one (1) super cool dress she stole from her kid who is desperately hugging her middle begging for it back because the spring fling is coming up and jason might actually make eye contact with her for more than three seconds.

jesus and mary magdaline and some other bitch

I’m at a bar and these drunk girls are flirting with me, do I lOOK GAY?!

Shrek 5, jesus's return

c. 2025 First attempt of an Officer and his Wife with a Handmaiden (colourized)

just about all of these are close lol

originally taken from: the Bolshoi Theater’s 1993 staging of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s The Maid of Orléans, featuring Nina Rautio (left) as Joan of Arc and Vyacheslav Pochapsky (right) as Thibaut d’Arc

Responses:

Don’t look, I’m still pooping

yall, the audacity of this man. he fuckin talked to me

*i can't even tell you how wrong you are* *it would be insulting to ME*-- closest

Cospeto!

„No I’m not talking to you, you keep cracking bad jokes!“ - „But I got another!“

when you’re mad at him but he says he’ll buy you food if you cheer up

When I’m wallowing in self-pity but my friends won’t comfort me

right: wanna fuck ;) left: yeah, fuck OFF lmao

Her face is screaming “don’t tell me what to do”

Yeah I got nothing

gay man tries to hit on a lesbian bc he thinks she's a twink. she's not amused but she's watching this happen anyway

me tired of MET's bullshit and them organising a Netrebko, known blackface apologist, a recital during Black History Month. (sorry im still fucking salty lol)

"stop smiling at me like that I'm trying to pout over here"

"I got fleas, you got fleas... wanna fuck?"

I have the best idea!

Haha nooooo don’t hit me with that bat you’re so sexxyy

lesbian is bothered by dilf

Me trying to flirt

if call me by your name was hetero and set in america

how many more dad jokes can i take before i explode

So. You’ve gotten yourself in a little pickle again.

What if we fought in the Russian revolution together ✨???????... unless??

Two people flirt in a poor place of town/

"If you ask me what I've got under this dirty, shapeless tunic one more time I swear to god I will kick your rotting teeth in"

You look like ur gonna kill me but ok

Really? You again?

Okay, I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes, do you think it’s safe to—oh god, he’s still there.

Have you seen Godot?

she is tired of everyone’s shit. she has done so many derivatives it physically pains her to see a variable. dont test her. ur icarus rn.

idk pick better pictures-- I HAVE DIED THE SHEER AUDACITY AND HUBRIS I LOVE THIS

200% done with your crap

Homeless man has fucking legs of steel n is gonna show off his Russian dance moves

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2019 staging of Paul Dukas’ Ariane et Barbe-bleue, featuring Sophie Koch (right) as Ariane and I don’t remember who the person on the left is rip me

Responses:

The knight who wore this into battle sure was swaggy

dear god its hiddeous

Capitalism

Knight in shining armour gone even more wrong.

ghost contemplates the safety of spiky motorcycle helmet

„Stop! He feels bullied!“

'this is my newest take for jesus's crucifixion crown ...... what do you mean they already put him up'

That’s probably a really expensive magic helmet idk. IDK-- closest

Omg I love the adventure zone!

minesweeper (windows xp)

"Okay whatever you do don't touch the shiny spiky ball" "It's so shiny I wanna touch it"

Taking down the trash way too late

IT'S NOT A PHASE MOM

Darth Vader got stuck in the freezer.... again. Leia isn’t happy

Star Wars 2030

“And here is the very latest in motorcycle helmet trends” “Look, I only came to the mall for a pair of socks “

futuristic kkk

long-suffering jewelry store attendant really wants to retire

Put it down put it down put it down

“Hmm no you should see a doctor about that”

A weird ass crown is presented

The creation of sars-cov-2: an experimental Eurotrance nightclub art piece gone horribly wrong

How it feels to want something that u cant have

AND WE WILL CALL IT—SPIKE MAN actually do you think that’s too obvious?? Because of the—yeah, because of the spikes?? See, that’s what I’m worried about. I want it to be SCARY

I know it's risky but... lube me up

use the force luke.

that is a weird fleshlight

When you get an ugly gift and need to find a way to get rid of it, so your family member/friend offers to smash it

Touch the orb

originally taken from: the Opera Vlaanderen’s 2019 staging of Fromental Halévy’s La Juive, with Nicole Chevalier (left, with bottle) as Princess Eudoxie, Enea Scala (center, under table) as Prince Léopold, and Roy Cornelius Smith (right) as Éléazar

Responses:

When no one comes to your birthday party :(

fantastic, day 487 of mischief and they have yet to find my masterful hiding spot

i really wonder who he thinks he's playing footsie with

Marriage crisis. Reason sits under the table-- closest but not in the way you think (after all, the man under the table IS a tenor).

the last supper afterparty after jesus left

When you order the last supper on wish

espionage at the Politischer Rosenmontag

Probably the wrong opera but is that Leporello under the table

Now THIS is a Good Friday night

this was every birthday party i went to between the ages of 5 and 11

that awkward moment when you drop your fork under the table but when you re-emerge everyone else has left except one drunk lady and the guy trying to deal with her

After the last supper

Tfw you arrive to the dinner party too early and have to hide until a more fashionable hour

When the cishets aren’t home

waiter hides from customers

Nobody: My dog every time I’m eating:

what's left of the homies Jesus had dinner with

university chem lab experiment gone terribly wrong

I’ve been under the table FOR 30 MINUTES

Set your friends up by tossing them off under the table, they’ll think it’s each other n fall in luv

Someone hids under a table

"You're about to see an surreptitious-under-the-table-dick-sucking master at work"

5 yr old me trying to eat the desert under the table without my parents finding out be like:

They never invite me to their parties!

Just another girl’s night in

Oops! Didn’t notice you the table.

dionysus - bts (2019, colorized)

just a normal episode of eric andre (eric is the one under the table)

Just a normal day with the boys

Thievery

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Kate Aldrich (left, surrounded by women in white) as Fidès and John Osborn (center, looking like a Jesus doppelganger) as Jean de Leyde

Responses:

Hold up, is that Eggman above Jesus?

holy disco

Looks like Tannhäuser. Our lord and saviour Richard Wagner. Now I need to be saved from that.

catholicism

me defending pineapple on pizza (THANK YOU)

jesus but hes about to be abducted by the alien ufo above him

Emmmmmmm Heaven? Idk

Lord of the rings?

ewww christianity gross

"behold, I am Important"

"Seriously?? It's not ACTUALLY pyjama day? Fuck you guys!"

Jesus at the Disco

Jesus Finds The Molerat People Who Live Under Bethlehem

disco is heaven

Want to join my new religion?

the kkk

church christmas pageant where everyone's sober but it's based on the director's fever dream

Am I the only one who sees the giant demon? Just me? Okay...

“Oh god I think I’m starting my period”

A party is held with a priest in the middle

"Let's get this secret Vatican sex party rolling!"

The new avengers endgame set is looking great!!

You know, guys, I try not to be a bother but...I can’t help but feel like I missed a dress code memo for this wedding??? It’s cocktail, right??”

Jesus visits Hogwarts

I must really stink if no one will even come close to me

the extra ass funeral i DESERVE

star wars life day

A cult at it’s best-- closest

Shrek 5, Jesus is still there I guess

originally taken from: the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden’s 2013 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Les vêpres siciliennes, featuring Bryan Hymel (left, standing) as Henri, Lianna Haroutounian (center, kneeling in the black gown) as Duchess Hélène, and Erwin Schrott (kneeling to her right) as Jean Procida

Responses:

When the director’s like “great rehearsal guys, just a few notes before I let you go” but it’s already 9:13 and your mom’s waiting in the parking lot

loyalist of subjects

bow before your queen

They forgot to take down the stage boxes after the Vienna opera ball but the show must go on.

somebody forgot to book chairs for this funeral

Me sharing God’s (Hayley koyoko) word on the discord server

mass execution bc the oboe solo sucked ass-- closest

That’s too many black suits I can’t see shit

I can’t even tell what’s going on here

8th grade school assembly about how it's uncool to shit on the walls at school

let's all get fancy so we can go to the opera and sit on the stage (idk this one's hard lol)

"Yes i am a time traveller, now don't freak out"

Tfw you forget to pay your lighting bills

White guys make decisions that will benefit them and screw someone that’s not a white guy over-- OUCH but that is too real (although not really in context here)

dead man gives speech at his own funeral

brotus and the boys ??? last meeting before the stabbing

high society social function ends in mass murder-- right opera, wrong scene

Someone walks into the talent show stage with a dog

Black-dressed bitches worship a man.

Worst school assembly of all time

POV:You're the window in the classroom and someone said "its snowing"

When the conductor shows up fashionably late to the orchestra concert

That's what you get for choosing the cheapest ticket option, get back in the mud where you belong

theyre just trying to jump into a grave at a funeral leabe them alone this is normal

oh my god he really whipped his dick out in front of everyone, this is just like in 1776 guys, except some women are actually in the room this time,

A funeral, stop wearing so much black

I want to slap their bald heads like rice

originally taken from: the Teatro Real Madrid’s 2018 staging of Gaetano Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, featuring Roberto Tagliavini (right) as Raimondo

Responses:

Crowd “haha!! Looks like someone missed the all-black memo!! Now it’s laugh-in-your-face time! / Guy on the floor (whispering to guy against wall): go, save yourself! I’ll hold them off...”

if i leave now i wont be a witness and can tell the police i had no idea

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Guy in the back pretends to help but is to far away to even know what’s going on.

priest walks in on beginning of an orgy, contemplated joining but is too scared-

when someone brings up capitalism but you’re just trying to play minecraft

lol lets trample this guy while the judge isnt looking

Again. Too many black costumes

Loved this Dostoevsky novel

i would know if opera directors were more creative with clothing choices ngl

me on parties lol

"imma just sneak out of here while everyone else is distracted"

"Where did he get this flooring!? Amazing!"

Everyone act normal!

The tell tale heart but they got REALLY drunk

man tposes to ward off vampires after being caught undercover

boys ???? night

the priest really shouldn't have visited the insane asylum-- closest

He’s FINE everyone’s been hit by a car before

Something happens in a room.

Perks of being a wallflower

There's always that one person in the fight whos trying not to get involved when they really wanna

Oh good, they’re all posing for a Rembrandt painting, I can just sneeeeaaak out the back here...

The gamer livestreaming Resident Evil + everyone watching the stream ? waiting for him to open the door just knowing it will trigger a chase scene

Quick!

the guy t posing in the back is regretting his every decision.-- also accurate

the us senate jumps ted cruz, some other wack ass gop senator is trying to sneak away

...I spoke too soon, however this is a James Bond mission

Queers help fellow queer do math but it's a struggle

#opera #opera tag #results #screencaps #captions #caption #caption this #caption contest #this seems to have gone over well and I am Pleased

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everything-person · 3 years

Text

Surprise

A/N: Surprise @darkcolinodonorgasm! It is I your Captain Swan Secret Santa! Sorry this is a day late couldn’t get on an actual computer until this morning and I have lost to many post to the app to try typing this all out on my phone. Without further a do here is your @cssecretsanta2020

STOCKING STUFFER: White Solstice (as promised and is actually my secret Santa gift from last year)

Summary: Prince Killian Jones just returned home after two years of traveling the world to find he has been arranged to be married. But that isn’t the only surprise he has coming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their lips fused together in a passionate kiss. Their tongues fighting for dominance. Both clutching onto each other in pure need to become impossibly closer. One hand gripped her hair as the other one slid down her body, feeling all her magnificent curves until he reached her thigh raising it so her leg wrapped around his hips. How many nights has he been dreaming of those legs wrapped around him as she withered beneath him or above as long as she was with him the position didn’t matter.

They separated when the need for air over came their need for each other. His lips left hers only to travel down the side of her face, grazing her neck to sucking on her collar bone.

“Captain,” she panted as she carded her fingers through his hair.

He bit down on her shoulder causing a soft cry to leave her lips.

“Say my name, love. I need to hear you say it.”

He lifted his head to see her wearing a smirk, challenging him to make her.

‘Stubborn lass,’ he thought to himself. She knew he was never one to back down from a challenge. He captured her lips once again in a fierce kiss before his mouth once again traveled down her body. He nibbled on her ear, kissing her neck, biting her collar bone, licking the tops of her breast before getting on his knees. He lifted her skirt expose her wet center to the air causing her to shiver with excitement. He began to tease her lifting her leg to hook onto his shoulder he kissed her knee traveling up her thigh. He kissed every bit of exposed skin his mouth could reach except where she needed him most.

She squirmed above him. She grasped and moaned, thrusting her hips trying to get him to pay attention to her dripping center. “Please. Please Killian.”

Hearing his name fall from her lips was all he needed. He finally leaned forward swiping his tongue along her slit. He drank her essence like a fine wine and he was a man dying of thirst. He sucked and licked at her quim being encouraged by every moan, pant and grasp of his name on her lips.

“Killian, Killian Killian”

“Killian. Killian. WAKE UP!”

Killian woke with a start feeling his covers being ripped from his body. Lifting his head, he was greeted with the sight of his older brother standing at the end of his bed blankets still in his fist.

“Bugger off Liam,” Killian groaned burying his head in his pillow once again.

“No can do little brother-”

“Younger brother.”

“Today’s the day. The maids have been trying to get you up for an hour and you nearly missed breakfast. Get up. Get dressed and come down stairs.” Liam threw the blankets on the ground and made his way to the door. Leaving Killian as his words echoed in his head.

Today’s the day.

The day he’s been dreading all week.

His wedding day.

Killian groaned into his pillow. He rolled over so he was laying on his back. When he did he was greeted with a reminder of what he was dreaming about, and has been dreaming about since his return home, since he left that port if he was being honest. He thanked the gods that he was sleeping on his stomach when Liam rudely woke him. Though he would like nothing more than to continue the dream, or even take a moment to take care of himself, he knew if he didn’t get up Liam would come back and drag his ass out of bed.

Sitting up Killian begrudgingly got out of bed and made his way to the tub that is filled for him every morning. As he sunk into the now lukewarm water his mind began to wander.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I didn’t know the Captain of the Jewel of the Realm knew how to ride.”

Killian smiled as he looked down from where he was astride the horse he’s borrowing for the day. The lass before him was a vision before him. She wore a cream colored dress with a ivory cloak covering her. He would be lying if he said it didn’t give him ideas of another day she maybe wearing white.

“As you should know by now love, I am full of surprises.” Killian leant down slightly offering her his hand. at her hesitation Killian said, “Stop thinking, lass. Just trust me.”

She paused a second more but seemed to not need anymore encouragement as she grabbed his hand allowing him to help her straddle the horse. Once she was on and her arms secured around him for balance they took off. They laughed as the wind whipped around them, listening to the steady sound of hooves against the ground. They watched as the trees began to thin out til they were in a clearing, a field of flowers. They dismounted and allowed the horse to graze while they walked further into the clearing.

“That was incredible,” she laughed, “and this place is beautiful.”

“Aye,” he smiled fondly at her reach down to pick one of the many pink flowers scattering the field before presenting it to her, “I thought it was a nice place to be alone.”

She smiled accepting the flower looking at him through her long lashes,”And now that we are.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he her waist. Closing their eyes they came together in a slow passionate kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian was once again ripped from away from thoughts of the beautiful lass by a knock on the door.

“Your Highness I was sent by their majesties to bring you down.”

Killian huffed before calling out, “I will be out in a moment.”

He quickly scrubbed down his body before getting out and drying off. He went to his wardrobe picking out a simple pair of trousers and a white linen shirt. He was going to have to change soon anyways no point in getting all dressed now. He finally left his room following the servant that was sent to get him to the dinging room where his brother, aunt and uncle all sat waiting for him.

“Killian thank you for finally joining us,” his Uncle Eric greeted.

“Not that I had much choice now did I,” Killian responded as he sat down. His voice eluding to more than him having to get out of bed.

“Killian,” his Aunt Ariel pleaded.

His mother was Eric’s sister she abdicated the throne when she fell in love. She went on to marry that man and have his brother and him. They lived a decent life before his mother got sick. When she died his father put them on a ship and left. When King Eric heard his sister had died and left two sons he sent to have them brought to the castle. He and his wife raised them from then on.

Liam was set to take the throne when Eric and Ariel step down leaving Killian to do free what he wished. At least he was for two years. They allowed him to take a ship and a crew of his choice and travel all the realms. That how he met her.

The beautiful barmaid from the Enchanted Forest. He was taken with her beauty the moment she waltzed over to his table and inquired on what he and his mates were playing. He stayed in that port for an extra week the first time they met then over the last year hes returned to that same port just for her. Last time he saw her was four months ago, promising to return to her with jewels from Agrabah. He wasn’t able to keep his promise. He planned to tell his family about the lass that has stolen his heart but he wasn’t expecting that his aunt and uncle had other plans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE,” Killian shouted.

“Yes. It has been set for a couple months now, part of a treaty with a neighboring kingdom,” Eric calmly said.

“Why the bloody hell did you do this without consulting me? Why can’t Liam marry this princess?”

“Liam is already engaged to the Queen of Arendelle and is to be married when he takes the throne. This offer came suddenly and rapidly we need to give them an answer,” Ariel tried to explain.

“And what if I decline? What if I abdicate like my mother?”

“Then you would be risking the possibility of sending your brother to war. The treaty has already been signed. Your brother is to take the throne in a matter of months. You would not be seen as the one breaking the treaty, he would.”

Killian looks away from his aunt and uncle considering their words. Thinking of his brother and if there was a way out of this.

“Who even is this princess who has been arranged to be my wife? What kingdom is she from?”

“You have been arranged to marry the Crown Princess of Misthaven.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even with the threat of war Killian still considered refusing the offer. That was until a white dove landed on his ship one day with a letter tied to its leg.

“Dear Captain Jones,

I hope this letter finds you well. Though we have spent many nights together I fear you have gotten the wrong idea about our relationship. We were simply two ships passing in the night. Passing closely I will give you. But these meetings must come to an end. I do not wish to leave you with question so I will be clear. I have no feelings for you. I do not love you.

That is why I write this letter. I want you to go live your life. Live it without me because there is no place for us together. Fill your heart with love for someone else. Someone who can love you the way I never have. The way I never will.

Swan”

He stared at the parchment for hours after reading it. Her words ringing in his head.

I do not love you.

His chest tightens at just the memory. Her letter was what made him agree to this marriage to the mysterious princess.

“Killian please. Lets not fight, today is a day for celebration,” Ariel pleads with her nephew.

Killian rolled his eyes, “I have already agreed to this marriage is that not enough?”

“No,” Eric stated in a commanding voice,”You must behave and be a gentleman. You may not be in favor of these circumstances but the girl has done nothing to you. You will treat her with the respect she deserves.”

“Good thing I believe in good form and I am always a gentleman.” Killian rises from his seat to return to his chambers.

The next couple of hours the castle was buzzing with energy. The staff rushing around to finish preparations. Excitement filled the air except for one room.

Killian stared at himself in the mirror. He wore his royal best, looking like a real prince. He couldn’t feel more uncomfortable. He preferred leather he spent the past two years sailing in. He tried to think back on his travels, of the sea to calm his nerves but all thoughts brought him back to her and how she rejected him.

“Killian,” Liam entered his room, “It’s almost time. The guests are being seated.”

“Has she arrived yet?”

“Yes the Royal Family of Misthaven has arrived.” Liam looked over his brother before saying, “I know this wasn’t you choice brother but I want you to know I’m proud of you for going through with it. I think mother would e proud of you as well.”

Killian looked his older brother in the eye before responding, “Thank you Liam.”

Liam nodded, “And who knows. Maybe this princess won’t be so bad. Maybe you can grow to love each other.”

Before Killian could respond trumpets could be heard from a distance. Liam patted his brother on his shoulder, “Come on then. Let get you married.”

Moments later he stood at the altar waiting for his bride to be. The room was filled with people chatting amongst themselves as he stood with his back to the rest of the room. Music began to play and a hush fell over the crowd as the bride made her way down the aisle. When the bride and her father reached Killian the King gave his daughters hand to Killian who wrapped it around his elbow. Together the bride and groom approached the officiant.

“You may remove the veil,” The officiant told Killian.

They turned to face each other. As Killian reached for the veil nothing would’ve prepare him for who he saw underneath.

“Emma,” he breathed out in awe.

She said nothing but he could tell from the look in her eyes and the tick in her jaw she is just as surprised as he is. A number of emotions flooded Killians heart. Relief over not marrying a stranger. Confusion over the reason of the marriage. Hurt over the memory of her words from the letter. Happy at the realization he was marrying the woman he loved. The officiants words fell on deaf ears until he said.

“Do you Killian Jones Prince of the Southern Seas take Emma Crown Princess of Misthaven to be your wife?”

His eyes never leaving Emma, “I do.”

“And do you Emma Crown Princess of Misthaven take Killian Jones Prince of the Southern Seas to be your husband?”

“I do.”

“You may now kiss the bride.”

This kiss isn’t like any of the others they have shared together. This kiss was a kiss lacking emotion, just a peck for show. Once their lips met the crowd erupted into applause. They made there way down the aisle and out the doors into the hallway where a maid was waiting for them. The maid lead them down the hall to the room they were to wait in until the ball to celebrate their marriage.

As soon as the maid closed the door behind them, leaving them alone, Emma snatched her arm away from him. She looked at him with furry in her eyes, her jaw set, as she backed away from him.

“What the hell Killian you’re a prince?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Killian furrowed hi brows, “Lass I think you also for got to tell me something. I Thought you were a bar maid.”

“You thought I never said I was. Unlike you who said you were ‘Captain of the finest ship in the realms’.”

“Aye, I am. I was given a ship and two years to do as I pleased and travel all the realms.”

“So what? Everything you said, everything we did was just a lie. Was just you having fun. Was I just another quest? A challenge?”

“No,” Killian looked Emma in the eye, “Those two years I sailed. The year we spent together. Every moment with you was true. Aye I am a prince but by title only. The man you met in that tavern. The man who tried so desperately to win your heart was the real me Emma. That was the man whos heart you broke with your letter.”

Emmas eye softened at his declaration. When he tried to approach her sh stepped back maintaining the distance between them as she crossed her arms. Killians eyes grew dark and his jaw tensed.

“What about you? Was I just something for you to toy with? A bored princess looking for dangerous sailor to fool around with. Was I your last adventure before your parents carted you off to some random prince from a strange land?”

Emma shook her head, “No. I sneak out of the palace for fun sure but you were not a toy Killian. I cared for you.”

“Then why the letter to break my heart? Why were your parents so eager to marry you off so quickly?” Killian shouted.

“Because I am pregnant,” Emma yelled back.

The anger and hurt fell from Killians face at that. His eyes darted to her stomach and back up to her face.

“I became sick so my parents sent for the doctor and we found out I was pregnant. With your child. When I told my parent I met a Captain at my Aunt Reds tavern they thought you a pirate that took advantage of me. They wouldn’t listen and came up with a plan to marry me off to their friends nephew, who hadn’t a wife yet and was to return from sea soon. I had to marry soon if I had a chance to avoid scandal and make my new husband believe the baby was his.”

Killian nodded his understanding, “And the letter?”

Emmas eyes grew wet, she bit her lip before looking away and responding, “I didn’t want you to come back to port and look for me only to find I was married and with child. So I wrote you that letter in hopes you would stay away and continue to live your life of adventure and forget about me.”

At this Killian approached her with determined steps. When he reached her he gently caressed her face until she looked at him.

“I could never forget you Swan. I have been taken with you since the first moment I laid eyes on you and have loved you since the first time our lips met.”

Emma let out a stuttering breath. Killian tilted his head down as Emma lifted herself up when there was a knock at the door. Killian rested his forehead against hers, letting out a disappointed huff. They straighten themselves before calling for there interruption to enter. A guard entered stating that he was sent to escort them to the ballroom. They followed the guard to large double doors, with polite smiles set on their faces and their arms entertwined the double doors open and they with greeted with applause and smiling faces.

Killian raised his hand signaling to all he had something to say. As the crowd quietened He lowered his hand and cleared his throat, “We would like to thank you all for coming today to celebrate not only the union of two people but of two kingdoms. And I would like to say to my new wife and family.” Killian looked at Emma as he said, “I know though we just started our journey and have much to learn of one another. I promise I will do my best to deserve the right to be your husband every day and to cherish you until my last.”

He finished his statement by placing kiss on her cheek whispering in her ear, “Along with any surprises that may come our way.”

He pulled away to see Emma looking at him in awe. A soft smile creeping to her face as music began and they made their way to the dance floor for their first dance. As they danced other couples joined but the world melted away. Emma and Killian only had eyes for each other and as their dance came to an end Emma once again lifted herself as Killian leaned down. When their lips touched this kiss wasn’t like any other they had, this kiss was filled with hope for a happy beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thats all she wrote. Hope you enjoyed. and again sorry for the delay.

#ouat #once upon a time #captain swan #cs au #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fic #cs secret santa #csss20 #emma swan #princess emma #killian jones #captain killian jones #prince killian #enchanted forest #arranged marriage #unplanned pregnancy

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charlessmithhasmyheart · 3 years

Text

Title: Hunting Hijinks

Genre: Romance

Type: Charles x Reader

Triggers: None

A/N: Hey hey hey! This is a gift for the lovely @fangirl-ramblings. When I got the message that I was your secret santa, I was super excited! You are defs one of the people who I would consider to be my biggest supporter throughout this blog endeavor. Seriously! I would like to apologize for how long this took, but I wanted to make sure I was happy with everything before posting.

I know you had requested something about several people, so I chose Charles! Hope this is to your liking.

Here ya go! :)

____________________________

The sun was slowly sinking, the fire in front of you easily becoming your only source of light. The camp and it’s residents had been in the process of setting down for the night. Everyone but you. You were sitting on a log lost in thought, head resting in your hands as you stared into the flames; the object of your contemplation being none other than the mysterious Charles Smith.

Of course, this was of no surprise to you. It had been happening quite frequently. Charles was on your mind a lot. Especially since you had officially become a member of the Van Der Linde Gang.

A small smile began to tug at your lips as you recalled your first encounter with the illustrious group of outlaws.

You had been a bounty hunter then. Well, you hadn’t really been a true bounty hunter. You were just taking odd jobs from the wanted posters around Valentine and Saint Denis. It wasn’t the best work, but it paid well when you succeeded. And you did.

Believe it or not, you had actually met them during one of your jobs. You had been tracking a particularly elusive criminal for a few days. He had held up the general store and robbed a few of the townsfolk. Killed some too. The sheriff was adamant that he was brought back; alive or dead, it didn’t matter.

You were on the trail, the tracks very fresh when suddenly gunfire broke out ahead of you. Intrigued, you spurred your mount on only to come face to face with a shoot out. The target in question was crouched behind an over turned wagon, his own horse dead, as bullets from his attackers, three of them, soared through the air.

Determined to be the one to bring him to justice, you pulled your own gun from its holster and spurred your mount on again. Unfortunately the criminal, in what you can only assume to be a moment of stupidity, peaked from around the wagon, pistol loaded, only to receive a bullet to the face. With him now dead, the attacker’s switched their attention to you, guns still drawn. A curse slipped from your lips as you brought your horse to an abrupt stop.

“You take one step closer miss, and I cannot promise you’ll get away unharmed.” Warned their leader, who you later on learned to be Dutch.

When you made no move to speak he continued.

“Now I suggest you lower your weapon and we can talk this out. I see no reason for any more blood-shed.” He spoke, lowering his own weapon and signaling for the others in his group to do the same.

It took a moment, but you complied and re-holstered your weapon. Then came the conversation that would change your life. You had explained how you were a bounty hunter, making money to survive on your own after your family had died. Dutch responded in kind; giving you the run down of his gang, and, when he was finished, offered you a place to stay. After all, a woman of your abilities would be beneficial to their cause. Seeing as you had no better options, you accepted.

When you had arrived at their campsite at Horseshoe Overlook, you were introduced to many people who, despite being outlaws, were some of the most kind and hardworking people you had ever met. You fit right in, quickly developed relationships with many of the gang members, and the rest was history.

But despite all that, there was one member that you still hadn’t been able to understand.

When you had first been introduced to Charles, he barely mumbled a greeting or looked in your direction before heading of to complete some chore. You had brushed it off in the beginning, assuming you would find time to get to know him later. Now, it was later, and you knew next to nothing other than you had developed feelings for him.

It was all so odd. How could you develop feelings for someone who wouldn’t speak to you, let alone even look at you in the eyes? Sure, you had admired his silent nature, his penchant for taking on the difficult or unappealing jobs and his kindness with the other gang members from afar. Not to mention, he himself wasn’t unappealing to look at. But it still frustrated you to no end because you knew that he wouldn’t feel the same way. Charles had made it perfectly clear, without speaking, how he felt about you.

Stifling a groan, you rubbed a hand over your face, your frustration beginning to build to unhealthy levels.

“Something the matter [Y/N]? You’ve been sitting there an awfully long time.”

You jumped at the sound of someone’s voice and turned to see Hosea strolling towards you, a curious look on his face.

“I’m fine, Hosea.” You replied as he eased into a chair on the other side of the fire. “Just tired is all.”

“I may be old,” he started. “But not so that I can’t recognize when someone’s troubled. What’s bothering you my dear?”

You shifted your gaze from the fire to Hosea. He was leaning back in the chair, arms folded in his lap, with his eyes fixed on you. There was nothing but concern and a honest want to help you in them. He had always been like that. When you were struggling to learn the ways of the outlaw life, Hosea had been with you every step of the way. Making sure you knew the best hunting spots, helping you tend to your chores, and keeping your spirits up whenever you got discouraged. But, expressing your thoughts of Charles out loud? That was different. You didn’t know if you could.

“I don’t really know, if I’m bein’ honest.” You responded finally. “I’m just trying to sort out my feelings.”

And you were. Trying and failing, but you were trying. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t convince yourself to forget.

“Your feelings for Charles?” He stated matter-of-factly.

You snapped your head up, heat beginning to rise in your face as you tried to stammer out a response.

“How did you know— I mean. I never said—”

Hosea chuckled and splayed his hands out in a calming gesture.

“Like I said. I may be old, but I still know a thing or two. And the way you look at the man when you think no one is paying attention? I’d say you were smitten.” He teased, winking at you.

You stared, dumbfounded and unsure of what to say. If Hosea knew, surely others in the camp knew. And if they knew, did that mean Charles knew as well? And if Charles knew then... No. You weren’t even going to consider the thought.

“You know what? I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” You stated, pushing yourself off the log and heading towards your tent, refusing to look at Hosea anymore lest you get sucked into a full blown confession.

“You know,” He called after you. “It’ll just get worse the longer you keep it to yourself.”

You gave a half-hearted flick of you hand, the only indication that you had heard his words as you continued to walk through the camp.

——————————

The next morning proved to be no better. The minute you had opened your eyes, your thoughts immediately went to Charles. And Hosea’s advice. When you had finally settled into bed last night, you had pondered what he had said. Maybe it would be in your best interest to talk to him, but the fear of his first words to you being full of hate was too much, and you had drifted off late into the night.

Groaning, you pushed yourself to your feet, ready to distract yourself with the days work. You grabbed your hat from where it had fallen on the floor during sleep and stepped out of your tent. The morning sun shone through the campsite and the warmth felt good on your face. A cup of coffee sounded like a good way to start your day so you headed towards the communal pot; Abigail and Pearson already there with cups in hand.

“Morning [Y/N].” Pearson called out. “Any specific plans for your day yet?”

“Other then my daily chores? No.” You responded, pouring the dark liquid into your tin mug. “Why?”

“Well,” he began. “We’re getting low on food supplies and I can’t remember the last time anyone went hunting. Think you’re up for the task?”

“Sure,” you replied between sips. “I’ll head out right now.”

Pearson grunted his thanks and returned to his own mug. It felt good to finally have some sense of normalcy thrust upon you, so you were more than happy to comply. Nodding your head at Abigail, you finished your coffee; the warmth of the liquid reaching and energizing every part of your body before heading towards the horses.

Hunting hadn’t always been a skill that you particularly excelled at, but when you had expressed your unease with the chore during your first weeks with the gang, Hosea had wasted no time with setting up lessons with Arthur. Originally he would have asked Charles to do it, but every time he had mysteriously disappeared, leaving you wondering what accursed thing you had done to receive the cold shoulder. And hunting with Arthur wasn’t so bad. Of course, he was a little moody at times and his patience wasn’t always there, but you learned. You considered yourself to be quite the hunter nowadays.

Having now reached your horse, you ran your fingers through her mane and cooed soft encouragements before swinging yourself into the saddle. Grabbing the reins, you clicked your tongue and eased her towards he camp entrance.

“[Y/N], hold up!”

You brought your horse to a halt, startled, and turned in the saddle. You were surprised and a bit worried as Hosea sped up towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Are you going out?” He inquired, an odd look that you couldn’t quite place etched on his face.

“Yes,” you replied hesitantly. “Pearson asked me to. Why?”

“Why don’t you take Charles with you, huh? He’s quite the hunter himself.” Without waiting for a reply he called out to Charles who was sharpening a knife. “Hey Charles! You up for some hunting? [Y/N], here could use some assistance.”

It was in that moment that your heart beat began to quicken; from anger and from nervousness at the thought of thee Charles Smith hunting with you. Alone. In the woods. With no one around for miles. Oh, would Hosea be getting an ear-full once you returned. Well, maybe you’d say if. The possibility of you running away forever from sheer embarrassment was entirely plausible.

“There now,” Hosea continued, clapping Charles on the shoulder with his hand. “I’m sure the two of you can scrounge up some food for the lot of us. And don’t come back until you do.”

You shot Hosea a burning look as he sauntered away, whistling a tune the whole while. Charles barely glanced at you as he pulled himself onto his own mount, Taima, and encouraged her towards the edge of camp. You followed suite without a word.

————————

You gripped the bow tightly in your hands, trying to rack your brain for anything to say as Charles walked beside you. The silence between the two of you was uncomfortable. At least, that’s how you felt about it, and, frankly, you couldn’t deal with the fact that the man you had pined for months over was finally capable of staying close to you. Deciding you’ve had enough, you lowered your weapon and turned to face him.

“Why do you hate me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you hate me?” You repeated, crossing your arms.

Charles’ eyes widened as he took in your words, and a strange look crossed his face. You started to feel guilty as you waited for a response. You had come across as a bit rude. It wasn’t what you were going for, but the words just came out without any thought. But, now that you were in this predicament, you decided you were going to keep going.

“I don’t hate you,” Charles finally spoke.

“Well, then have I done something to upset you? I’ve been with the gang for months now and you’ve said all of six words to me.”

Another long moment of silence ensued. Finally deciding you’ve had enough, you tightened the grip on your bow and turned to leave, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Before you could reach your horse, however, you felt a hand grasp your arm and you found yourself twisted around and a pair of lips locking with yours’. You tensed for barely a second as your mind tried to register what was happening. You were kissing Charles. Or, rather, he was kissing you. And it felt like you had always imagined it to be. When he broke away, you stared, dumbfounded.

“I don’t hate you, [Y/N],” He said, reaching out to take your hand his large calloused one. “I never have. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

“Charles,” You uttered, barely a whisper.

“Ever since the first day you stepped into camp, I knew there was something special about you. I was just too afraid to say anything.” Charles confessed. “I didn’t know how to say anything, because I didn’t know how you would feel.”

His dark eyes locked with yours and you could see the sincerity and fear swirling around in them. A small smile tugged at your lips. There was only one way you felt you could express your true feelings. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek and pulled him into another kiss.

Time seemed to stop. Your heart beat just as quick as you pressed your lips against his in a gentle fashion. His strong fingers brushed tentatively against the back of your neck while your own hand tangled amongst his dark locks. You placed your other hand against his chest and grasped at the loose fabric of his shirt, feeling a hunger your had never felt welling up inside you. Charles, sensing this, slipped a hand down to the small of your back and pulled you flush to him.

The kiss lasted for what felt like years before you finally pulled away, both of you breathing hard and a shine in his eyes that you no doubt mirrored.

“Do you know how I feel now?” You teased.

“Yes, I think so.” Charles chuckled, entwining his fingers with your own. You smiled warmly at him.

“Maybe we should get back to hunting then?” You inquired. “There’s a certain someone I need to have a chat with when we get back. And then, maybe we can have a chat of our own, hmm?”

Charles suppressed another laugh, placed a kiss on your cheek before resuming the hold on his own bow, and traipsed deeper into the woods. The memory of that kiss would reside in your mind as you finished the hunt and it would carry on until later in the evening when you and Charles had another moment alone.

#charles smith #rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #imaginexreader #imagine #writing #reader insert

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