In my defense, @secretschuylersister started it [And yes, it is based off of The Tag, her Legendary tag, id you could not tell by the title]
Pairing: Lin x reader (I think? I mean, it kind of turned out more Daveed x readerish. I was thinking that if people actually like this, I might do a second part and put more Lin in it… Unless y’all want it to be a Daveed fic? That works too.)
Warnings: probably OOCish characters (Taylor included? Not sure if she swears… Never mind yes she does) Sexual references, hardcore shipping, fangirl Daveed, some swearing (okay, lots of swearing) - that’s it, I think
Summary: The Hamilcast finds out about something that they maybe shouldn’t have
Note: Special thanks to @timeforhamilton who let me send this for her for advice and encouraged me to keep going, @secretschuylersister for answering my questions for “research” and @on-written-wings for her oh-so-helpful Industrial Revolution list! If you haven’t met any of them, check them out! They’re all hilarious, kind, wonderful, too great for this world awesome! :)
“Because it’s creepy!” Anthony defended. “Why would I look up Lin?”
“Trust me, the results are very amusing.”
“How exactly would you know that, Diggs?”
“I’ll give you three guesses… And ten dollars if you do it.”
Anthony sighed, folding under the promise of money for his troubles.
Daveed grinned, letting out a fist pump into the air.
“The things I do for you people…” Anthony breathed, even as he pulled his laptop closer to him, Google already getting up and running.
His fingers began to lazily drift over the keys, but after a few seconds, they stopped, a smirk curling on his face as his eyebrows lifted further.
“Oh, Diggs, you were right.”
“Why? What’d you find?” Daveed asked eagerly, moving so he could see the screen, eager for the scoop on something he might’ve missed.
Sitting there, all too innocently in the search bar, were the unfinished words Lin-Manue.
In the drop down list of frequent searches just below it, from the bottom up, it went lin-manuel miranda net worth, lin-manuel miranda drunk history, lin-manuel miranda moana, lin-manuel miranda, and, at the very top of the list, securing it’s spot as the most searched topic with his name on it, lin-manuel miranda plow me.
The two shared a mischievous look, devious grins slowly growing on their faces.
It took all of two seconds for them to silently agree, and immediately afterwards, Anthony had furiously clicked the first option, repeatedly doing so until the next page had loaded.
Scrolling down, he murmured, “So, Tumblr is the blue void from whence this came, eh? Let’s see if we can find out where this started…”
The hands holding my arms down felt real. The hands holding my head back felt real. The hand pressing on my chest felt real. The sunlight coming through the smudged window behind the pastor looked real.
I’d say that the garbled voice I heard coming out of her mouth was the clue that this was not real, except yea, that happened too. There was nothing wrong with her voice. There was something wrong with me.
Possession tends to fuck up my senses, after all.
I was afraid and angry and defiant and compliant and crying and cursing and completely out of control. A passenger locked in the cabin of a runaway train and all the command levers were broken.
“[Keri], what is today’s date?”
I tried to focus on the source of the first clear words I have heard since… since. My eyes rolled back instead. The woman’s voice asked the date again. My eyes refuse to look at her radiance and look past her into the darker daylight outside.
I couldn’t remember the day, but I remember the season… it’s autumn. 2002.
Through the window I can see the tall dead grasses in the field. We need to cut it down soon or get a fine for not being ready for arson fire season. The idea of burning things does something terrible to something even more terrible that starts to unwind from the back of my head and I start to gurgle and drool as bitter laughter creeps out of my throat.
The hand is on my head and it is so cold, it burns. Someone is screaming obscenities. They are not very good at it. I’ve heard them all before.
Oh wait. That’s me.
The hand withdraws. My eyes are open, but I can’t see. I feel like an empty doll, a disconnected marionette. All I can do is wait for someone to pull my strings.
There is a light. It is terrible. I want to run from it. I want to hide in the dark with the other dark things because I’m a dark thing too and if I wasn’t then why does the light make me want to run away.
If I wasn’t, then why is my skin not white like the good son and his family?
Emma and Regina's toddler/baby got hurt on Emma's watch, and she's panicking that Regina (Mama Bear mode on) might get angry with her.
Thanks for the prompt :)
Emma chews her lip nervously as she studies their daughter. They’d been playing happily in the garden, then she tripped over a fallen chair (a victim of a vigorous game of tag) and caught her head on the patio.
Now, she’s got a fresh line of stitches on her forehead hidden beneath a bright pink plaster that she picked out proudly at the hospital. Lucy seems fine, humming happily to herself as she plays tea party with her dolls.
Emma, on the other hand, is absolutely terrified. One, because she’s worried about Regina’s Mama Bear mode and two, she’s scared to let Lucy out of her sight in case she gets hurt again.
“Your’re hovering,” Regina announces as she appears behind Emma.
Emma jumps before turning to her girlfriend, “Hey…when did you get home?”
“About two minutes ago,” Regina replies kissing Emma lovingly before looking at Lucy, “The bandaid?”
“Oh…um…please don’t be mad…we were playing and she fell…”
“I got stitches!” Lucy announces with a beam, “I’m gonna be a doctor now Mama.”
“You are?” Regina asks as she scoops the tot up, “Did your head hurt?”
Lucy shrugs, “Only a little. Mama took me doctors and I’m all better.”
Regina nods kissing her forehead as she replies, “Well brave girls get to pick dinner so what do you want?”
Lucy pauses before deciding, “’Sagne!”
“Lasagne it is,” Regina grins setting Lucy down and turning to her wife, “Emma, breathe.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Children get hurt,” Regina tells her, “It was an accident and she’s fine. More importantly she had fun playing with you. She’s fine Emma and you’re a wonderful mother.”
“I hate seeing her hurt.”
“I know, me too,” Regina replies kissing Emma’s cheek tenderly, “But for every one of those fearful moments there’s about a hundred happy ones.”
“Yes,” Regina tells her, “Go play dolls with Lucy and you’ll see.”