carriage driver

i want a show inspired by Critical Role and every other show where there’s a ragtag band of warriors who are constantly running around saving the day and fighting monsters but instead of the show being about them, it’s about the people they hired to take care of their keep

so the warriors disappear for entire episodes at a time and the staff is forced to deal with whatever their employers have left for them

YOU WANT US TO WATCH THIS CARRIAGE DRIVER WHOSE FINGERS YOU SHOT OFF BECAUSE A VAMPIRE MIGHT WANT HIM DEAD?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S GOING TO BE A GIANT WATER CREATURE GUARDING THE CASTLE?

YOU’RE LEAVING A POTENTIALLY POSSESSED EVIL SKULL IN THE BASEMENT?

basically it’s a park & rec type show where a handful of people are forced to deal with each other, not to mention the fans and politicians and musical troupes who steal their silver and waking up to find their employers siting at the dining table covered in blood and guts with a dragon head on the floor and everyone betting on how much money the head guard can guilt from their employers before they run off on their next adventure

@rey-leia-padme @masterjedi-lukeskywalker

The Vampire Chronicles List : Interview With the Vampire - #2

“‘But something had occurred to me there; or, rather, something I had already been aware of merely became clearer. I had gone to the Louvre that night to lay down my soul, to find some transcendent pleasure that would obliterate pain and make me utterly forget even myself. I’d been upheld in this. As I stood on the sidewalk before the doors of the hotel waiting for the carriage that would take me to meet Armand, I saw the people who walked there—the restless boulevard crowd of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen, the hawkers of papers, the carriers of luggage, the drivers of carriages—all these in a new light. Before, all art had held for me the promise of a deeper understanding of the human heart. Now the human heart meant nothing. I did not denigrate it. I simply forgot it. The magnificent paintings of the Louvre were not for me intimately connected with the hands that had painted them. They were cut loose and dead like children turned to stone. Like Claudia, severed from her mother, preserved for decades in pearl and hammered gold. Like Madeleine’s dolls. And of course, like Claudia and Madeleine and myself, they could all be reduced to ashes.’”

jefferson and hamilton meeting for the first time
  • Washington: Don't worry, we'll take care of it.
  • Carriage driver: Okay, that'll be $57.28.
  • Madison: What the fuck?
  • Washington: Holy shit!
  • Hamilton: Don't worry, I've got this.
  • Jefferson: What the fuck was that?
  • Hamilton: It was me, Alexander Hamilton.
  • Jefferson: Jesus Christ, is that a fucking gremlin?
  • Hamilton: No. I'm the Secretary of the Treasury.
  • Jefferson: Whatever, just no one feed that fucking thing after midnight.
Thomas Jefferson x Reader: The Reynolds Pamphlet

No. No, no, no. This can’t be true. I can’t believe it; I don’t want to believe it.

How could he? This doesn’t make sense. I thought he loved me. I thought he wasn’t like the others.

Your mind spun as these ideas haunted you. The lights around you began to get brighter and the noises get louder. 

The woman looked at you with sympathy in her eyes. That woman. The woman who told you about the Reynolds Pamphlet. The pamphlet, where Thomas Jefferson, your husband, told the country about his affair with Maria Reynolds.

“James, take me home,” you say in barely a whisper to your carriage driver. You don’t want to talk to the man who betrayed your trust, your marriage, but you wanted him to see what he did to you.

The ride to your estate in New York was cold, dreary, and silent. As you watched the people go by, you let your imagination get the best of you as you foresaw the consequences your husband’s actions would bring into your lives. The words whispered behind your back, the political backlash from Thomas’s opponents. And the heartbreak in you, the feeling of a thousand knives in your soul and broken glass in your heart. You couldn’t bear to think about your kids as you pulled up to the house.

James helped you out of the carriage and closed the door behind you as you ran into the entryway. You demanded to know where your husband was and your servants pointed you to his office. You took off down the hall in a flurry. 

“Hey, honey. how was-”

“HOW COULD YOU?!?” you thundered in a storm of tears.

“How could I what?” he replied with a confused look on his face.

“You know. Don’t deny it. I can’t believe you! So just say it to my face.”

“I don’t know what’s going on. Say what?

“Okay, let me spell it out for you: Why did you have an affair with Maria Reynolds?”

“Sweetie, honey, calm down.” he said approaching you. “That wasn’t me, it was Hamilton.” You could see the truth in his eyes. “Who the hell told you that?”

“Some woman on the street.” You sat down on the couch, stunned. “God, how can I be so stupid! She probably thought I was Eliza. Oh poor Eliza!” Thomas sat down next to you. 

“How could I ever think you would do such a thing? I knew it couldn’t be true. I am so sorry for doubting you,” you muttered, beginning to sob.

“Shhhh, shhh, it’s alright. Mistakes happen. But you and I are here now together, aren’t we,” He replied wrapping his arms around you. You buried your face into his chest to muffle the sobbing as he traced circles on your back with his fingers. 

“Thomas?” you say, wiping up your tears.

“Y/n?”

You stared into his chocolate eyes, creating butterflies in your stomach.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” he said with a smile.

anonymous asked:

My friend pointed out to me that in the scene where Soma looks out the window and the carriage is sitting out there and he goes "oh someone's here! I'll go greet them!" if you zoom into the driver of the carriage, the driver is wearing a hat that looks like Undertaker's and it looks like he's the one driving the carriage.

Yep, I noticed that, too (look here). I mean, it’s quite small and blurry and it could be anyone, tbh. But the shape does indeed remind me of Undertaker a bit. But you know, I actually hope it isn’t him. Because that would mean that he would have driven the person with the gun to Ciel’s townhouse. So UT would support someone (real Ciel?) in harming or even killing Ciel or one of his friends? After all the time where UT didn’t seem like he wanted to harm our Ciel and even might have wanted to keep him safe it would be quite weird if he suddenly took the side of the twin and turn against our Ciel (see also this post for that).

@frxncaise

Jack didn’t know what was wrong, but he knew something was, and he just hoped he could figure out where Angel went.

They’d met up by the park, like they did every Wednesday, and were walking to lunch, chatting about something Pie Eater and Snoddy had done, and as far as Jack could tell, it’d been a perfectly good day.  The sun was out, most of his papes were gone, it wasn’t too hot or too cold, and everything was normal, from the people bustling by to the argument that had broken out between a carriage driver and pedestrian.

The men had been yelling, so maybe Angel had said something, but all of a sudden Jack felt her hand slip out of his, and she’d stopped short with a strange look on her face.  He’d asked her what was wrong, and all she’d done was run.

The crowd swallowed her up, but Jack kept on her heels, and he knew she’d gone down this particular alley.  “Angel?” he called, finally catching sight of her in a doorway and running over.  “What’s the matter, kid?”

He had a sister!” I whisper in anguish to the empty air, in response to a question asked if someone else in a podcast recorded months ago several thousand miles from where I am. The person who asked the question already knew the answer I give, the person who answered did not.

I’m also laughing really hard because Justin just named his former carriage-driver “Sazed”, ie exactly the name of the character I referenced in my last post as the only person in a) the Mistborn trilogy, b) perhaps the Cosmere in general, and c) many other fictional worlds as well, including perhaps this one, who should be trusted with ultimate godlike power. What timing.

I really like the small details in Assassin’s Creed: Things like the facial expressions characters make when fighting, Ezio’s subtle flick of his cape over his shoulder, the way Haytham and Connor will shield their eyes when they walk through the rain, Arno drinking coffee at the Café Théâtre or leaning over his balcony to look out at Paris down below, the carriage drivers waving to one another as they pass each other by in London… it’s small details like this which didn’t need to be added to the games, but for someone like me who loves these little intricacies it gives the games a wonderful personal touch and ultimately makes them so much better for me because of it.  

The Sleeping Tonic

The petite woman drew her cloak tightly around her shoulders to fend off the biting chill of rain that pelted the top of her carriage as it rumbled along the path towards her new home. Spotting a light in the distance, the woman squinted her eyes to make out the shape of a large manor house. Perhaps this was her destination…
As the carriage circled around the front of the mansion, the brunette drew her cloak a bit tighter around her shivering form, the carriage driver opening the door for her to help her out. Trudging through the rain, she sat her trunk down and knocked on the large wooden door, praying for an answer. She wished so badly to escape this hellish storm that tore at her arms and face like icy claws. Hearing the soft click of the door latch on the other side, she perked to gaze up at her new master. “H-Hello. Are you Lord Soren?” She asked, her voice soft and sheepish.

Request: #13 (Marry Me)

Reader x Elijah

Warnings: None


Your boyfriend Elijah Mikaelson called you and told you to meet him at The Mikaelson Mansion, he told you he had a surprise planed for you. You were kind of confused, what kind of surprise? He told you to get dressed up.

 So you did your hair and makeup and got dressed up, when you met him at the mansion, he handed you a bouquet of roses and lead you into a carriage. “So you compelled a carriage driver..?” You asked with a small smile. He nodded and smiled. “So where are we going then?” He smiles. “You’ll see." 

You guys got closer and closer to the destination and you started to recognize the place. "Are we going to where we had our first date?” Before he could answer, you guys stopped. You followed him to a small pavilion that was decorated with lights. You cocked your head. “Okay Elijah, why’re we here?" 

You asked with a smile. "Because I want to spend the rest of my immortal life with you.” Then he got down on one knee and took out an engagement ring. “Marry me?” Your eyes widened and you smiled ear to ear. “Yes!” He put the ring on your finger and you kissed him. “I love you.” “I love you too.”

Hesitation

The trip back to Whiterun had been as unremarkable as the one to Solitude. Although, it had been marginally more uncomfortable, as she had had to share the carriage with a couple of strangers. They had seemed content to talk amongst themselves, which fine by her.

The carriage driver had been kind enough to stop by Arlow’s house, and – even more kindly – offered to help Halldis get the crate inside. It was difficult trying to fend off Agatha, who was beside herself with joy that her person was home again, but somehow they managed. Once alone, she did her best to move it somewhere out of the way, and was successful for the most part. While the puppy conducted a thorough investigation of the new thing, Halldis took her things up to the loft, and tossed them inside the pillow fort.

Now, she sat on the floor beside the crate, clutching a pry bar – which she’d found with Arlow’s tools – tightly in her hands. It should have been simple enough to just pry it open, and see what was inside, but her arms seemed unwilling to move.

She should have been happy, and excited. But all she felt was dread. Whatever was inside was going to stir up a lot of old feelings. Feelings which she had only begun to put to rest, and was not yet ready to deal with again. At least, not on her own. Jaw clenched, Halldis pushed herself up from the floor, and placed the pry bar on top of the crate.

After sitting in a carriage for so long, she needed to move. No doubt Agatha could do with a walk as well. Perhaps a walk would clear her mind, but it was hard to say. Either way, whatever was inside that crate was going to wait a while longer.

let’s talk about the word “dashboard” for a minute. the word originally comes from the 19th century, and was used to describe the piece of wood (i.e. a board) attached to the front of a horse-drawn carriage to prevent the driver from getting splashed or hit by debris from the road which got kicked up (i.e. dashed) by the horse, which could include rocks, puddles, mud, litter, horse manure, etc.

a dashboard was originally designed to catch and accumulate filth, trash, and shit, and now we use the word to describe the place where all tumblr posts show up. coincidence? i’ll let you decide

Stolen Hearts

Happy Birthday to my BAE proudtobeaginger!!!!

Happy Birthday Halie, I love you so have some Western Bandit AU~ I know it’s a bit early but who doesn’t loooove early presents?!

Part II   Stolen Night

“Cough it up, I ain’t got all day!” The man with a mop of pink hair snarled, wagging his Smith and Wesson barrel under the nobleman’s nose. The sun beat down on both of them like an angry mother with a rolling pin, but he had no problem with the heat. The dust getting into his nose whenever he breathed wrong, however, was a problem.

The red bandanna covered most of his lower face from recognition, but his infamy seemed to proceed him. The pudgy little nobleman swallowed thickly, globs of sweat and oil trickling down his paling skin as he stuttered, “Y-You’re Etherious Natsu, the ruthless b-bandit of these parts.”

Without waiting for confirmation, he looked past Natsu, towards the black haired man currently disposing the body of the carriage driver in a rattlesnake’s nest, eyes wide and hazed. “A-And that must be The B-Black Wizard Zeref, Murderer of Towns.”

With a wicked grin, Natsu leered down at his bound prey, using the gun to tap a rhythm he heard in a pub a few towns back on the poor man’s temple. With every downbeat, the captured man whimpered and flinched.

Taunting the prisoner was fun and all, but Natsu had an inkling that a patrol would be along any time now and witness the carnage here. The overturned carriage was his own fault, yes, but the dead steeds and carriage driver was all Zeref’s fault. His brother never really knew how sharp his shooting was: intentional or not.

This interrogation had to hurry up.

“Listen you cur, I want your cash and I want it now! So fork it over before my fingers slip.” To emphasize his seriousness, he pulled the trigger and let a bullet fly past the nobleman’s ear and into the belly of the wagon.

The guy’s eardrum burst and he howled with fresh tears.

“Natsu, keep calm and just grill him. I’ll ride ahead and keep watch. Meet me when you are finished.” His brother called as he returned from his corpse disposal, patting dust off his gloves and rubbing under his nose. “And try not to shoot him before he tells you where his stash is.” The older man added with a dark tone.

The pink haired bandit snorted and rolled his eyes, but his spine still shivered under his older brother’s glare. Zeref was pretty calm most of the time…unless they lost out on a heist. He made a mental note to make sure every last gold piece was collected as to avoid the already souring mood.

“Aye, sir. Count on me.” He murmured mostly to himself, watching as his brother mounted his horse and began to canter away down the dusty trail, leather satchels filled with supplies bounding with every lope.

Keep reading

It is striking to many, especially those of England, to see the nature of magical schooling in Ireland. Rather than keeping to the layout of magical schooling which applies to England, Scotland, Wales, and surrounding small Islands such as the Isle of Mann, Orkney, and the Isle of Wight, Ireland teaches from a young age, with a school for young magical children at the site of Tara, and then several secondary schools elsewhere on the Isle. Most well known of these are the school at the Rock of Cashel, known for it’s muggle and magical lore, the School of Magic in Connemara, known for its Dullahan Carriage drivers, which collect the students at the start of term, and the Phoenix Park School of Higher Magical Education.

Most magical education in Ireland starts at the Scoil Draoí na Teamhrach, the Tara Magic School, barring some few children who are educated instead at local Tower House Schools. The Scoil Draoí na Teamhrach is steeped in magic, and students enter the school by walking directly at two stones which stand in front of a nearby church. While in history they were used to test who the rightful High King was they nowadays simply act as the warded entrance to a passage into the school, which rests beneath the Hill of Tara.

Despite it’s apparently subterranean location, the Scoil Draoí na Teamhrach is extremely well lit, the mound of the hill acting as a one-way window, with light being allowed in from outside, but not leaving. The school itself is a series of buildings beneath this window, with sprawling gardens and greenhouses, tended by a Ghillie Dhubh, which, according to the stories, came over from Scotland in the 16th Century with Scottish planters. Extremely gentle with the children, and almost never seen by the adults, the school’s resident Ghillie Dhubh keeps children from getting lost, or coming to harm in some of the more dangerous parts of the gardens. Due to muggle laws protecting the Hill of Tara, and numerous wards and enchantments to do similarly, the Scoil Draoí na Teamhrach has never been breached, by muggle or magical means.

Students of Scoil Draoí na Teamhrach are taught there until they move onto secondary education at age thirteen (though it is not unheard of for some students, especially those of Protestant background, to instead leave for Hogwarts at eleven) and are aided in suppressing magical outbursts by the magic inherent in the site. Complex wards, enchantments and long-lost spells help prevent accidental magic within the site, and in their last two years students are taught to better control their magic, and thus usually cease to produce accidental magic at this point. It is not uncommon for students leaving to go to Hogwarts having not received this education to have their magic be somewhat more volatile for several years after.

At thirteen years of age wixen children of Ireland chose their school for secondary education. While many go to the school in Connemara, or the one at the Rock of Cashel, a vast majority go to the immense (in comparison to these others) Phoenix Park School of Higher Magical Education, in Dublin. The Phoenix Park School not only covers secondary education, but also covers University education, graduating more more wixes with Mysteries (equivalent to muggle Masteries) than any other educational institution in the British Isles. These students, who leave as fully qualified Masters/Mistresses/Magesters of their subject, arrive from throughout the British Isles, to the chagrin of some of Britain’s Collegiums and Wixen Universities.

Students of the Phoenix Park School may arrive through any method - side along apparition, Flooing to a nearby Floo-port in Dublin, or even driving up to the Fae Gate entrance - and are let in by the (believed to be immortal) Half-Ghillie Dhubh groundskeeper. The parks population of Fallow Deer (numbering some 400+) are often used for Advanced Transfiguration practice by students, and students are taught in Irish Gaelic as well as English, and taught spells not solely of the common Latinate and Greek incantations, but also spells with roots in Gaelic, and some of the more obscure magical practices native to Ireland. Due to the Unionist/Nationalist conflict amongst Irish muggles having carried over to Irish wixes there is some conflict and dispute over whether to attend the Phoenix Park school. While many wixes from the north, especially those with a Catholic background, take no issue with attending the school, those of a Protestant background are often much more torn, which has led to the presence of Irish students at schools such as Hogwarts.

— Excerpt from Chapter 13: Europe and the Mediterranean of Lesser Known Magical Educational Institutions Around The World by Alexandra Monmouth.

(Image Source)

(So much of this was thanks to the help of the wonderful fullofstoryshapes​ who kindly advised me as to the Irish School system and Irish lore which would apply. Fullofstoryshapes runs saintsandseekers​ which is about the wixen world in Ireland. For more information on the Hill of Tara go Here, for the Rock of Cashel go Here, for Tower Houses go Here and for Phoenix Park go Here.)

Adrien's cat excuse
  • Adrien: Excuse me sir! There's... There's a cat! There, in a carriage!
  • Train Driver: What! I'll go see!
  • Adrien: Well that was a surprisingly successful excuse. I shall use it again.
  • ---
  • later
  • ---
  • Teacher: Adrien where's your homework?
  • Adrien: I left it at home, miss
  • Teacher: Oh dear me Adrien. Stay behind after class please.
  • Adrien: But miss!
  • Adrien: There... there was a cat!
  • Teacher:
  • Teacher:
  • Teacher: I'm sorry what
  • Adrien: goddammit