#I feel like Disney Mary Poppins gets away with it because Mary herself and Mrs Banks both come out pretty well but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freddiesaysalright · 5 years

Text

Dancing With Ben Week 3

A Ben Hardy x Reader Fic Disney Night - Jazz

Summary: Reader is one of the pro dancers on Dancing With the Stars. It’s her second season on the show, and this time, her partner is none other than Ben Hardy. Will they win the Mirror Ball? Maybe they’ll win something even more meaningful!

Word Count: 3K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @twigleektribute23, @ionlyhavepicturesofflowers, @asquiresofftime, @caborhapch, @iwasnothingbutacityboy, @a-kind-of-magik, @anxious-diabetic, @royalblueviper, @toms-irish-girl If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Week 1 Week 2

Week 3 here we go!!!

Disney night was a favorite of yours. It reminded you of childhood and the night was always joyful. Also, you got to take a break from rehearsal one day and go to DisneyLand. You were really looking forward to spending the day at the park with Ben, even if the cameras were following you around for most of the day.

“Are you ready to have a fun Disney day?” you asked eagerly as you entered the park.

“I am,” he chuckled, looking at you.

You felt like a little kid again. You donned Minnie Mouse ears and everything for the day. You hardly noticed the way Ben gazed at you, like you were positively the sweetest thing he had ever seen. You took his hand and led him over to Cinderella’s castle, where you would shoot some things for the video package.

You stood with him in front of the castle, and faced him. “So, what was your favorite Disney movie as a kid?”

“I always loved The Jungle Book and 101 Dalmations,” he said. “I was into the animals.”

“No princesses, huh?”

He shook his head. “Nah.”

“You do know you look like a Disney prince, right?”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “I guess so.”

“It’s not a guess, Hardy, I’m right,” you insisted with a smirk.

“Which prince am I going to be this week, then?” he asked.

“Actually, we’re doing something different,” you told him. “You and I are doing a jazz routine to Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious from Mary Poppins.”

“I can’t believe you said that without messing up,” he said, impressed. “Do it again.”

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” you said.

“One more time.”

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

“Oh, you’re good.”

You giggled. “Thank you.”

“So, what do I need to know about jazz?” he asked.

“It is very fun and very Disney,” you said. “One step you’ll have to know is the Charleston.”

“Show me, coach,” he said.

You slowly walked him through the basic Charleston step. The camera guys got a shot of you doing it together for the package. Ben already had it down, blowing you away with how easy most of this came to him. Then, you headed out to enjoy the park.

“Do you like roller coasters?” you asked.

“I love them,” he said. “You?”

“I love them!” you agreed. “Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun today.”

You took his hand again and led him to the first ride. The line wasn’t terribly long since it was the middle of the week, but it was still Disney, so tourists were crowding the park. Ben held your hand throughout the ride. Even through the first drop, when your hands were in the air, they were intertwined. You looked quickly at each other before it went down, your stomach turned, and you screamed together. When you clamored off the ride at the end, your legs wobbled, but Ben held you up.

You continued through the park this way - hand in hand. You were heading to get some food, when a tiny hand tapped your knee. You looked down and saw a weepy little girl, looking desperately up at you. She was wearing a Cinderella dress, but her tiara was askew in her hair.

“Excuse me,” she sobbed. “Can you help me?”

“Yeah, honey, what’s wrong?” you asked, kneeling down to her level.

“I’m lost,” she said with a sniffle. “I can’t find my mommy.”

“Where did you last see her?” Ben asked.

“By the castle,” she answered.

You were in Toontown, so it wasn’t terribly far. It was still a long way for a girl her age to go alone.

“Alright, we can walk you back over there and see if we can find her,” you said.

“O-okay,” she stammered with a nod.

“What’s your name, lovie?” Ben questioned gently.

“Laci,” she said.

“I’m Ben, and this is Y/N,” he told her. “It’s nice to meet you, Laci.”

The corners of her mouth twitched upward as he smiled at her.

“Can you hold our hands?” you suggested.

“Hold on, I’ve got a better idea,” Ben said. “How’d you like to sit way up high on my shoulders, Laci? That way you can see your mum from wherever she is.”

Laci nodded enthusiastically. Together, you hoisted her up until she was settled on his shoulders, legs dangling on either side of his head. He held her ankles. At last, she laughed.

“Lean forward, lovie,” he said. “Don’t want you to slip off.”

“Okay!” she agreed brightly.

“That was a quick turnaround,” you said to Ben under your breath.

“Kids love to be tall,” he replied simply.

“Mr. Ben, why do you talk funny?” Laci asked from her seat atop him.

You grabbed his arm and snickered. “Mr. Ben!”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m from another country. England.”

“Oh!” she said. “Like Harry Potter!”

“Yes, like Harry Potter,” he said, smiling.

“Do you know him?” she wondered.

“Not well,” he answered. “We’ve met, but, as you know, he’s a rather busy person.”

They carried on back and forth and you looked on with admiration. A pang of irritation went through you as you overheard the camera guy and producer exchange a few words.

“Are you getting this?” the producer asked.

“Yeah, they’re gonna love it,” said the camera man.

You made your way back to the castle and Ben instructed Laci to be on the lookout for her mother. You kept your eyes peeled as well for a woman who might be distressed. Laci wiggled on Ben and gave an excited cry. He gripped her legs tighter to keep her upright.

“There she is!” she said. “By the statue!”

You squinted and saw a pretty blonde woman up ahead. She looked frantic and was calling out. You jogged ahead, so you could lead her back to her daughter.

“Hi!” you called. “Are you Laci’s mom?”

“Yes!” she sighed. “Is she with you?”

“Yeah,” you assured her. “And she’s fine, don’t worry.”

At that moment, Ben caught up. He lifted Laci off his shoulders and lowered her to the ground. She hurtled toward her mother and wrapped herself on her legs.

“Thank you!” her mother cried. “I stopped in a shop to grab one thing, and the next thing I knew she was gone.”

“She came right up and asked us for help,” you said.

“Seriously, thank you so much,” she said.

A beat passed as she looked at you. “Aren’t you two on Dancing With the Stars?”

You smiled. “Yeah! I’m Y/N, and this is Ben Hardy.”

“I thought I recognized you,” she said. “The whole family are big fans.”

“We hope that means you’re voting for us,” Ben joked.

She laughed. “Of course! Especially now, after what you’ve done. Is there...anything else I can do for you guys to thank you?”

You and Ben exchanged a surprised look.

“No, nothing,” he assured her. “Really, she was no trouble.”

“Then can I just ask for a picture?” she said a little sheepishly.

“Of course!” you agreed.

She picked up Laci and put her on her hip. Ben took her phone and you all leaned in for a selfie. He snapped the photo and returned her phone to her and she thanked you again and again. When you parted ways at last, Laci in her mother’s arms, she waved to you over her shoulder, until she was out of sight.

“What a sweetheart,” you cooed. You turned to Ben. “And you! You really were like a Disney prince!”

He looked at the ground. “No, I wasn’t. I was just being a good person.”

“You literally swept her off her feet,” you said.

“I do the same thing to you every week,” he teased, winking at you.

It made you stop in your tracks. You caught your breath and then kept on walking. Shortly after, the cameras were gone and you and Ben were free to enjoy the rest of the afternoon however you liked. You packed as much as you could into the day, since Ben had actually never been before. You had an absolute blast on all the rides, sometimes holding tightly to him as you went. A few other people recognized you and asked for pictures as well, which you happily agreed to.

Finally, you stopped to eat something. You picked a restaurant in the New Orleans Square and sat down to eat. As you waited for your food, you chatted some more.

“So, are you excited for this week’s dance?” you asked.

“I’m always excited to dance with you,” he replied, and you hoped he missed the color that flooded your cheeks. “But I am excited for this dance. I’m actually a bit relieved to not be a prince character.”

“Why?” you wondered.

“Well, I feel like it’s how everyone sees me,” he explained. “The hot guy or whatever. I want to be known for my performance, not the way I look. It’s why - when I have a choice - I always choose to remain clothed.”

You cocked your head to the side with a questioning look. He laughed at how cute you were.

“For example, when I did Woman in White, there was a scene where I could have had my shirt off,” he said. “I chose to keep it on because I wanted people focused on the scene. Not my body.”

“Are you insecure about it or something?” you asked, incredulous at the idea.

“No, not at all,” he answered. “I’m proud of my body and all that but I don’t like being objectified. Ogled.”

“It makes you feel like the reason you get parts is because you’re eye candy,” you summarized.

“Yes, exactly,” he said. “I want to be recognized for my talent.”

“Ben, you are a very handsome man,” you said, holding out your hand, which he took. “But you are so much more than that. You’re really talented. Not just at acting, but dance now too. Even more than both those things, you’re genuinely one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. It’s probably what I like most about you.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Really.”

You enjoyed dinner together and you realized your newfound respect for Ben. He took his art really seriously. He had fun, but he was intent on doing things the right way. You admired him greatly for it.

The next day, you began rehearsals. Ben was enthusiastic as usual as you broke down the basics for him. One fun thing about this routine was that you were doing a lift where he had to flip you over a cane. It was whimsical and interesting. Ben was incredibly careful with you. Luckily, he was strong and only dropped you once. You laughed on the floor when he fussed and wondered if you were okay.

“I’m fine!” you insisted. “Believe me, this happens all the time. Do you need a break?”

“Yeah, maybe a short one,” he said.

You sat down and grabbed some water, allowing him to shake it off. At that moment, Sasha entered, carrying a gossip magazine. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Look what I found!” Sasha teased. “You two were really cozying up at Disney, eh?”

He handed you the magazine and you opened it to the page he had dog-eared. You groaned when you saw it. It was you and Ben at the restaurant holding hands. The text speculated you were in a relationship, and also implied how it would break James’s heart that you had “moved on.”

“Looks like you two are the couple of the season,” Sasha said.

“I’m happy to take some of the pressure off Sharna, but this is ridiculous,” you said. It usually was Sharna who was rumored to be dating her male partners on the show.

“Yeah, Y/N was just being nice to me right then,” said Ben. “We were really just having a moment of genuine friendship.”

“You know how it goes,” Sasha said. “The press has to come up with some scandal if they can. Unless of course it’s true.”

You smacked him on the arm. “Don’t you have some rehearsal you need to be at, Mr. Bottom Two?”

Sasha feigned offense. “Oh, she’s feisty. Good luck, Ben!”

He left with a laugh and without the magazine. You kicked it into the corner.

“Let’s get back to work, shall we?” you said.

Ben smiled and agreed.

He picked up the routine well. You worked extra hard to get the parts where you tossed his cane and your umbrella down to perfect timing. By the time dress rehearsal rolled around, you were feeling great. You were getting fitted for your dress. It was the white one, similar to what Julie Andrews wore in the movie, but with a little more sex appeal. Your neckline was a deep vee, and the red bit really cinched in your waist. The skirt only went just past your knees and you couldn’t resist doing a twirl and getting the layers floating around your legs.

You heard Ben gasp in the doorway. You beamed at him.

“Wow,” he sighed. “You look…”

“Practically perfect in every way?” you finished.

He nodded. You naturally made you way to his arms and settled there.

“You look pretty good yourself, handsome,” you said, straightening his bow tie.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Are you ready to kill it?” you asked.

“It’s only dress rehearsal,” he laughed.

“No excuses, Hardy,” you said, poking his chest. “Give me everything you got, remember?”

“Yes, coach.”

You made it through dress rehearsal without a hitch. You were sure you and Ben would be getting even higher scores this time around. It was going so smoothly.

The time came for the performance. You and Ben were going right in the middle of everyone else, which was fine with you. You were certain he’d stand out. Tom started to introduce you.

“Next up, take a look at Ben and Y/N’s experience at Disney, where they faced an unexpected visitor,” he said.

The video package showed you and Ben talking and then they included finding Laci. You rolled your eyes. Ben actually watched the video this time, and he smiled at Laci’s face.

“She really was cute, wasn’t she?” he said.

You nodded. “Well, she and her mom are voting so let’s do them proud.”

You got set up as the video faded to black, the music started, and you began your routine.

youtube

You and Ben leapt around that dance floor like Mary Poppins and Bert were right off the screen. He got every step. He nailed the small lift, and you felt like you really brought some fire to that jazz. When you finished, you embraced, before heading over to the judges, very much out of breath.

“Once again, I’m shocked,” Carrie Ann began. “Seriously, jazz can be so hard, and Y/N pulled no punches with that choreography.” She added a few notes about footwork.

“I won’t lie to you, Ben,” Len began, but then he broke into a smile. “I really, really liked that dance. You went in there, gave it some welly, and you performed a real jazz number. Well done.”

You and Ben laughed and squeezed each other.

“I loved that dance,” Bruno agreed. “You were bouncing around, and you really captured the essence of Mary Poppins and Dick Van Dyke in that movie. And honestly, you behaved like a real Disney hero for that little girl in the park. Well done, Ben!”

They all clapped for you as you headed to the skybox to talk to Erin and receive your scores. The other pros and contestants high fived you guys as you came through, finally stopping in front of the camera.

“Great job, you guys!” Erin said. “Honestly, Ben, you and that little girl had my heart just melting. What exactly happened there?”

“Y/N and I were walking and the girl - Laci - literally just walked up and asked us to help her find her mum,” he explained. “She was so sweet, so we helped her out, and luckily, her mum wasn’t too far away.”

“Still so, so cute,” she said. “Let’s see what the judges thought.”

You waited while the scores came in. All three of them scored you a nine. You screamed with joy and leapt into Ben’s arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. The three nines placed you at the top of the leaderboard. You felt like you were in the clouds. Between the dance, the scores, and the thrill of being in the lead, nothing could bring you down. Ben was exactly the same. You couldn’t stop hugging each other.

“You did it!” you cried. “I’m so proud of you!”

“We did it!” he returned. “Together!”

You got warm all over from the sentiment.

Finally, it was elimination time. You and Ben joined the other couples on the stage as you waited once again for Erin and Tom to go through couple by couple to tell them who was in danger. You gripped Ben’s hand so tight, you were sure his fingers were bruised.

“Ben and Y/N,” Erin said. “I’m sorry, you guys are in danger tonight.”

Your mouth fell open and you looked at Ben. He swallowed and pulled you under his arm. He kissed your forehead and you closed your eyes. You held tightly to him, fearing you may not get to hold him again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s not over yet,” he said, sounding more confident than he looked.

You waited. There were three couples total in danger. You and Ben, Sasha and his partner, and Lindsay and her partner.

“The couple that is leaving us tonight is…” Tom began.

You gripped handfuls of Ben’s jacket, sending a silent prayer that you wouldn’t have to let him go yet. You weren’t ready.

“Sasha and…”

You sighed with relief, but did not let go of Ben. He didn’t release you either. You held each other for a long moment. The others were already moving to say goodbye to Sasha and his partner. You and Ben looked at each other and then joined them, noticeably behind.

“That concludes Disney night,” Tom said to the camera. “Thanks for joining us and come back next week to see what our stars come up with for country night!”

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #ben x reader #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #borhap boys #borhap imagine #queen #queen imagine #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #dancing with ben series

152 notes · View notes

imagitory · 5 years

Text

D-Views: Mary Poppins

Hello, everyone, and welcome to another installment of D-Views, my on-going written review series where I dive into and analyze movies from Disney’s extensive film library, and even occasionally those influenced by that library. For other reviews in the series for movies such as Frozen, Enchanted, The Little Mermaid, and Lacewood Productions’ The Nutcracker Prince, feel free to consult the “Disney Reviews” tag! And as always, if you enjoy any of my reviews, please consider liking and reblogging them!

Today, thanks to the votes cast by @karalora, @banana-9-pancakes, and @aceyanaheim, we’ll be looking at the story of a magical woman -- one who is prim, proper, and practically perfect in every way...Mary Poppins!

Production-wise Mary Poppins is in some ways the culmination of everything Walt Disney learned in his thirty-year-long film-making career. It adapted a classic, whimsical story as an charming, emotion-heavy screenplay, like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs -- it featured a fresh-faced, but extremely talented young singer in the title role, like Sleeping Beauty -- it seamlessly combined animation with live action, like Song of the South -- it had state-of-the-art special effects, like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea -- and it featured music by two songwriters who later went on to write Disney film scores for decades. But all of that started with a tiny, little spark. As a little girl, Walt’s daughter Diane had started reading the Mary Poppins books, and when Walt read along with her, he was absolutely enchanted by them and knew he wanted to adapt the stories for the silver screen. All the way back in 1938, one year after the release of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Uncle Walt had his first meeting with Mary Poppins’s creator, P.L. Travers, but as anyone who has seen Saving Mr. Banks knows, the two did not see eye to eye. Uncle Walt spent the next twenty years trying to convince Travers to give him the rights to her stories, but unlike in the film where they had a sincere meeting of the minds, Travers recalled their final meeting where she gave him the rights as being more like Walt “holding up a gold pocket watch and dangling it tantalizingly in front of [her] eyes.” Admittedly one factor in the situation was that Travers herself had been having some financial trouble, and Uncle Walt’s payment for the rights to her books, as well as a portion of the gross profits for a film adaptation, was a boost that Travers severely needed. Despite the rights being given to Disney, however, Travers retained script approval rights, and for the next few years of production, she had quite a few complaints about the product. Even at the premiere of the film -- which, incredibly, she had not originally been invited to until she shamed a Disney executive into action -- Travers was very vocal about how much she disliked the film. The animation, done by some of the best in the business? Had to go. The story, which created such memorable and likable characters? Lacked teeth. The score written by the young Sherman brothers, who later went on to win awards for both Poppins and their other works? Left her cold.

Now, here’s the thing...do I agree with Ms. Travers? No. Do I like her as a person? No -- one would be hard-pressed to really admire a woman who decided to adopt half of a pair of twins from a poor family, raise the boy thinking he was her biological son, and then try to prevent her son from seeing his twin when the twin came to see him. (Yes, she really did that.) Do I think she was a malcontent who probably wouldn’t have been satisfied with anything? Absolutely. But at the same time, I must acknowledge, as a writer myself, it can be very difficult to share your creations with others. It can be hard even letting others read your works, given how personal and emotionally resonant the things you create often end up being, but it’s even harder letting others add onto your work. In a way, it’s like giving your child to a babysitter, except that unlike babysitters, most filmmakers who aim to adapt books don’t have a great track record in respecting the author or their vision. And in regards to Walt Disney specifically, his studio has never exactly been very interested in “staying true to the original story” -- the Walt Disney Company adapts the heck out of anything it touches. Even more modern Disney projects based on books like Ella Enchanted and Tuck Everlasting are great examples of this (if you’d like to delve into those films as adaptations, please look up Dominic Smith/The Dom’s wonderful Lost in Adaptation episodes for them -- they’re both fabulous!!). And in a way, Travers never saw her magical nanny as something light and cheerful -- this was an immortal woman who in later books once took the Banks children up into the Heavens on Midsummer’s Eve. Like the famous 1939 film adaptation of L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, there was definitely some dry wit and edge lost in translation from book to screen...and just like with The Wizard of Oz, Mary Poppins the film has largely taken the place of the original novels in the public consciousness.

But you know something? For what it’s worth...I think that, just like The Wizard of Oz, Mary Poppins succeeds in being a well-written, well-directed, well-performed, classic film, even if it’s so different than the book it was inspired by. And honestly, the world seems to agree. Mary Poppins grossed over $28.5 million at the box office, making it the most profitable film of 1965, and completely won over both critics and audiences alike. Even now at Rotten Tomatoes, it still boasts a rare 100% Fresh rating. It was nominated for 13 Academy Awards and won five (including Best Picture, which made it the first and only film Walt ever produced to win that honor) and also earned both a Golden Globe and two Grammys. Not only that, but the profits for the film were so high that they helped Uncle Walt fund his “Florida project,” which would eventually become Walt Disney World Resort. Mary Poppins later went on to inspire both a Broadway musical and a sequel, Mary Poppins Returns, and even today you can still meet both Mary Poppins and Bert in the Disney theme parks. So yes, “I recognize Ms. Travers had her opinion, but given that it is a stupid-ass opinion, I’ve elected to ignore it.”

PFFT, I’M KIDDING, ONLY KIDDING. Let’s talk about Mary Poppins.

Perhaps it’s appropriate that from the very beginning, the overture embraces us with the melody that will become the story’s main theme, Feed the Birds. The overture, like all the best Sherman brother overtures for films like Bedknobs and Broomsticks and The Sword in the Stone, is just a smooth, glamorous kaleidoscope of music. I also have to applaud the special effects team right off the bat with their overlaying of Julie Andrews as Mary onto the mat painting of London underneath our opening credits -- even now, when one can more easily guess how the trick worked, it’s still rather neatly done.

In this opening sequence, we also meet Bert, played by Dick van Dyke. The character of Bert was actually a compilation of several figures from the books, but that results in a very interesting, almost transient sort of character. This cheery, optimistic Jack of All Trades may have an accent that wouldn’t convince anyone, but is nonetheless unbelievably charming, and van Dyke’s physical comedy is so ridiculously on point. My mum and I have had a soft spot for Dick van Dyke for a long time because my late grandfather, although he was quite a bit older, resembled him quite a bit not just in appearance but also in attitude. Even now I look at Bert and fondly remember going to see the Broadway production of Mary Poppins with my grandparents, who ended up loving it and its music just as much as I did. It all the more makes me lament the end of the Soundsational Parade at Disneyland, which always concluded with a Mary-Poppins-inspired float covered in chimney sweeps and merry-go-round horses, one of which was ridden by Bert.

One of the changes that Ms. Travers was most disdainful of was the idea that the Banks family -- especially Mr. Banks -- had flaws that needed to be addressed and fixed by Mary Poppins. The flaw in the parents’ case is that they’re so focused on their own work and goals that they neglect their children’s emotional needs -- a plot point that would eventually get beaten into the ground in films that came later, but is not done half bad here. After all, the film doesn’t try to frame Mr. Banks’s job or Mrs. Banks’s activism as unimportant or bad in any way -- it’s just that the parents are solely focusing on those things. Mrs. Banks’s activism in particular, which is something that doesn’t appear either in the books or in the Broadway production, is something I really like. Sister Suffragette, which actually helped bring Glynis Johns on board to play Mrs. Banks, is just such a ridiculously fun song to sing. Although I wouldn’t ever say it’s the best song in the film by a mile, it’s still insanely catchy and entertaining, and I sing along to it every single time. WOMANKIND, ARISE!

David Tomlinson, who plays Mr. Banks, is easily the weakest link singing-wise, but fortunately he gives an acting performance that more than compensates for his poor vocals. From the very beginning, he comes across as incredibly pompous, self-centered, detached, and sexist, and yet he’s never shown to be an inherently bad person. He can be very cheerful, and even the way he’s framed makes it clear that a lot of his bluster is a front for his actual feelings, such as the way he falters when he realizes that Katie Nana has left the family. In the wrong hands, this role could’ve been despicable and shallow, but Tomlison handles it carefully enough that one can always see the emotion and suppressed softness in his eyes even long before he has his change of heart.

After an excellently paced entrance that involves effortlessly blowing away the line of nannies outside 17 Cherry Tree Lane, we are finally fully introduced to the magical lady herself, Mary Poppins. It is unbelievable when you remember that this was Julie Andrews’s first film role ever -- she’d previously only been a stage actress, but after finding success in both My Fair Lady and Camelot on stage and being denied the role of Eliza Doolittle in the film adaptation of My Fair Lady (which was later given to Audrey Hepburn), Julie accepted the role of Mary Poppins. Interestingly Julie was the only actor in the movie that P.L. Travers actually expressed some approval for, and honestly, I don’t blame her -- Julie is just flawlessly cast here. The role combines all of her performing strengths -- a great singing voice, expert dancing, inherent charm, sophistication, intelligence, pride, grace, and a touch of sass -- together in a cohesive, memorable character. Mary’s first song, A Spoonful of Sugar, really showcases Julie in her prime, spotlighting her flawless falsetto and precise pitch (as well as her impeccable whistling), and beautifully accompanies some of the at-the-time-revolutionary special effects. Although yes, it’s easy in the modern day to see how the effects were done, they’re never out-of-place or distracting, which is a testament to how much better practical effects can sometimes age in comparison to computer-generated effects. The things that tend to stick out most to my eyes are the green-screened stuff, simply because of how much that particular technique has been used in film and television since Mary Poppins’s release, but the nice thing is that it’s only one of many effects used, which helps in distracting the eye away from getting too used to one effect. Sometimes the effect will be stop-motion; sometimes the effect will be reversing the film; sometimes it’ll be green screen; sometimes it’ll be combining separate shots together. It makes it so that you would have to watch every scene several times and very carefully in order to pick out specific techniques, rather than just being able to go, “That’s fake, that’s fake, aaaaand...that’s fake,” the way you can while watching movies using only CGI.

Speaking of special effects, we have to talk about the sequence that made P.L. Travers the most upset -- the Jolly Holiday segment, set in an animated, living chalk drawing. Not only is the song just excellent, but the colors and energy of the piece are...well, practically perfect! It only serves to plus a song that was already pretty great and turns it into something amazing. Something else I like about Mary and Bert that I actually have to thank P. L. Travers herself for is that they are not romantically involved. Ms. Travers specifically indicated that that should be the case, and for a film made in the 60′s when male and female characters were almost always neatly paired off, it’s really neat that the two characters, despite some faintly teasing, flirty affects, never act like a couple. And really, having had both male and female friends since I was a kid, I really enjoyed seeing an attractive leading woman and man as friends. On the note of Mary, Bert, and songs I love singing along to, I would be very, very amiss if I didn’t also bring up Supercalifragalisticexpeliadocious. It’s really a very short number, but packed into it is so much energy that it feels like it never takes a breath. It’s like a sugar buzz, written into song form -- exuberant and big and loud and energetic...at least until the inevitable decrescendo as the rain wears away Bert’s chalk drawing and Mary, Bert, and the Banks children sadly return to the real world.

Our next adventure with Mary takes us to dear old Uncle Albert’s, where the aforementioned uncle, played by Mad-Hatter-voice-actor Ed Wynn, is rolling in the air laughing. This scene in particular showcases the various practical effects used in the film, whether hanging the actors on wires, putting them on one side of a seesaw, or even flipping the entire set on its side or upside down. Admittedly it’s very obvious that Katie Dotrice and Matthew Garber, who play Jane and Michael Banks, are having a harder time laughing convincingly than Dick van Dyke and Ed Wynn, which honestly is unsurprising given how many times they had to film this particular scene so as to get different shots. One story from the set of this film centers around Matthew Garber, after getting tired of recording the scene, receiving a nickle every time he had to go back onto the wires and in the end earning an “absolute fortune.” For child actors, Katie and Matthew aren’t awful, but it’s fortunate that they’re almost never the sole focus of a scene, as the more talented adult actors understandably overshadow them. And before you try to tell me it’s unfair to hold child actors to the same standards as adult actors, I grant that that’s true, but child actors can still give good performances that make them stand out as individuals...take Georgie Henley in The Chronicles of Narnia or Kirsten Dunst in Interview with a Vampire, for example. And as much as I’ll give Katie Dotrice and Matthew Garber credit for their performances, neither of them quite stands out that way. It’s admittedly a little harder for me to be that critical of Matthew’s performance, though, given that ten years after he retired from acting, he sadly passed away of pancreatitis at the age of 21. It’s very fortunate that thanks to his performance in Mary Poppins, Matthew will be remembered fondly for generations to come.

Walt Disney’s favorite song is frequently cited as Feed the Birds, and honestly, it’s little wonder why. As I touched on earlier, the song sort of sums up what the film Mary Poppins is trying to say -- that the smallest, seemingly insignificant gestures can mean so much. And isn’t that so integral to Disney, or even movies and entertainment in general? We all know of a character in a movie or TV show -- a line in a book -- a song someone wrote -- a simple smile from a stranger -- that somehow brightened up our whole world, that inspired us in ways we could never have imagined. And all of that comes back to sincere, gentle feelings, and how we can share those feelings with others. Mary Poppins, in short, is about compassion...and isn’t it little wonder why such a message resonated with so many people?

After an absolutely disastrous visit to the bank, the Banks children run out into the streets of London alone, where they’re fortunately found and walked home by Bert. Accompanying the jaunt back to Cherry Tree Lane is the Academy-Award-winning song Chim Chim Cheree, which is definitely catchy and, if I may say so, very fun to whistle. I admittedly am a little sour with Mrs. Banks that she doesn’t get a bit of a reality check when she ends up choosing to leave Michael and Jane alone with someone who’s effectively a stranger to her to go help her suffragette friends. It’s just fortunate that the “stranger” ends up being Bert and that Mary Poppins ends up coming back despite it being her day off, as otherwise Mrs. Banks’s negligent parenting could’ve had serious consequences. But the leap in logic does end up leading us into one of the best parts of the movie -- Step in Time!

Step in time, step in time, come on, matey, step in time! Hahaha, yes, this sequence easily has some of the best dancing ever recorded on film, right up there with the choreography in West Side Story and Singin’ in the Rain. It’s especially remarkable when you know that prior to Mary Poppins, Dick van Dyke had had no formal dance training, and yet he keeps up seemingly with ease with dozens of professional dancers. It blows me away every time. And despite the unending repetition of the song, it miraculously never becomes annoying due to the variety of the dance breaks and the high level of energy with which it’s performed. And really, despite the insane length of the song (it running over eight minutes all together), it amazingly never feels like padding. Perhaps it’s because the talent on screen is just so on display and integrated so perfectly with the building orchestrations and well-chosen special effects that it only serves to plus the musical action more and more and more until it finally culminates in the chimney sweeps escaping down the Banks family’s chimney and dancing off into the street.

As fun as everything has been with Mary Poppins and the chimney sweeps, however, Mr. Banks is now in danger of losing his job at the bank, and Tomlinson’s talent is made very evident once again in how, even after seeing all of his character’s mistakes and faults, we still feel very sorry for both him and for his family. Mr. Banks at first feels the impulse to blame Mary Poppins for his change in circumstances, but thanks to some pointed guidance from Bert and some compassion from his children, he comes to see the cracks in the foundation of his world view. And this goes back to the entire family needing help -- Mr. Banks is a very, very flawed man, but at the same time, as Bert brought up to Jane and Michael, he feels he has to handle absolutely everything on his own, and it’s largely thanks to the support of his children that he’s able to face the threat of losing his job with his head held high. Something I love a lot about the part where Mr. Banks makes his way to the bank alone is the Feed the Birds instrumental that accompanies his walk and that comes to a head when Mr. Banks reaches St. Paul’s, only to see the bird woman no longer there. Whether you choose to read it as the bird woman simply having left or having died or whatever else, it’s clear that every opportunity for charity and kindness we are offered is fleeting. Compassion is and will never be a passive thing.

Fortunately everything turns out for the best. Mr. Banks makes up with his children and he, Michael, Jane, and Mrs. Banks go fly a brand new kite in the park, alongside the film’s final song Let’s Go Fly a Kite. Mr. Banks even ends up getting his job back thanks to a joke that he told Dawes, Sr. the night we sacked. Even despite the cheer, however, it doesn’t feel completely saccharine and lacking of substance to me because Mary Poppins does still leave in the end. She doesn’t achieve the same kind of happy ending that she gave the Banks family -- instead she simply takes off into the air, presumably to give some other family help, with a faintly sad smile on her face. It’s remarkably mature of an ending for something that P.L. Travers thought was “all fantasy and no magic.”

Mary Poppins is not that much like the Mary Poppins books originally written by P. L. Travers. Perhaps at some points it sanitizes or misses out on what inspired Ms. Travers to write the books in the first place...but for all that is lost, I’m confident in saying that a lot was also found. There is a lot of heart in this movie, from a family growing and improving through the intervention of a wise, magical woman to finding deeper meaning in the seemingly insignificant things in our everyday lives. This movie is ridiculously fun to watch, but it’s not like the book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, where there was never supposed to be a point and it was just there to entertain children. There are lessons one can learn here, and they’re not heavy-handed or pretentious in their delivery. One can learn the value of a sunny disposition, resilience, and empathy in less than stellar circumstances and see how a family full of love is the wealthiest and luckiest of all. And the best part? Those are lessons that both children and adults could stand to learn and re-learn through watching this movie for many, many years to come. Mary Poppins is an immortal figure, and even if this film was made by human hands and so couldn’t possible recreate P. L. Travers’s vision of her, the film is just as eternally relevant itself.

#d-views #disney reviews #mary poppins #disney #p.l. travers #opinion #analysis #reviews #walt disney #julie andrews #dick van dyke #pamela travers

13 notes · View notes

foreverwayward · 5 years

Text

“Wayward Hearts” Season 3 Chapter 7: A Very Supernatural Christmas

Summary: After the Devil’s Gate had been opened that fateful night in the graveyard, the hunters are forced to face a new war. Countless demons now run rampant, hungry for blood and power. It’ll take everything the three have to survive when darkness once again knocks on their door. But, with only a year before Dean’s deal comes due, Sam and Riley will stop at nothing to save him; to save their family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 10,866 (yup. this one got long)

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

The weather in Ypsilanti, Michigan would never have anyone believe it was late December. There was no chill in the air, no snow on the ground.

A little girl with blonde hair stood motionless and sad at the window as Riley and Dean spoke with her mother on the front porch. The woman had almost identical hair to her daughter and her face was worn and tired. Her husband had disappeared without a trace only days before Christmas. The family had their home fully decorated for the season. Poinsettias, a large nutcracker, wreaths, and lights lined the porch.

Through the open door, the hunters could see a large tree in the foyer of the home that twinkled as though everything was as it should be.

Posing as FBI agents, Riley and Dean questioned the mother to find out all they could about the missing man.

“So, what exactly happened, Mrs. Walsh?” Riley asked.

“Um, my daughter and I were in our beds. Mike was downstairs decorating the tree. I heard a thump on the roof and then I--I heard Mike scream.” The worried wife stared down at the ground in disbelief as tears welled in her eyes. “And now I’m talking to the FBI.”

Taking notes of the interview, Dean still took part in the questioning. “And you didn't see any of it?”

“No, he was--he was just gone. The doors were locked and my parents are the only ones with a key to the house, but they live in Florida.”

Riley could feel the woman’s agonizing concern and lost herself in her sad eyes as her empathic abilities sucked her in.

Dean scanned around the porch once more. “And no sign of forced entry?”

“That’s right.”

With his hands in his slacks, Sam walked out of the house and half-smiled at the victim’s wife. “Thanks for letting me have a look around, Mrs. Walsh. I think we, uh--got just about everything we need. We’re all set.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Dean added. After noticing Riley, he cleared his throat to snap her out of her trance-like state.

Immediately, it was as if she was grounded back into her body and Riley tried to compose herself. The three turned to walk down the steps with a quick nod to Mrs. Walsh.

“Agents…” the woman called out and the hunters stopped to turn back toward her. “The police said my husband might have been kidnapped. But, if that’s true, why haven’t the kidnappers called? Or--or demanded a ransom? It’s three days ‘til Christmas. What am I supposed to tell our daughter?”

Still reeling from her connection to Mrs. Walsh, Riley bit her lip trying to control her emotions. “We’re so sorry.” Moving on with the Winchesters, they all resumed their walk to the car as the woman turned to go back inside. Riley sighed heavily before saying, “Sam, please tell me you found something.”

“Stocking, mistletoe...this...” Sam replied as he pulled something out of his pocket to give to Dean.

It was a human tooth. “A tooth? Where was this?” Dean examined it more closely as Riley released her hair from its bun trying not to let it all get the best of her.

“In the chimney.”

“Chimney? No way a man fits up a chimney. It’s too narrow.”

Riley took a deep breath as a horrible thought crossed her mind and she shared it with the boys. “Not in one piece at least.”

“Alright, so, if dad went up the chimney--”

“We need to find out what dragged him up there,” Sam said finishing his brother’s sentence.

------

In their motel room, Sam sat at his computer researching while Riley pinned their printed pictures, lore, local history and more up on the walls. The wallpaper was a dark beige with ivy plants covering it, so she was happy to cover some of it up.

Dean walked into the room carrying a brown paper bag. “So, was I right? Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?”

“Oh, yeah,” Riley replied sarcastically. “We’re looking for Dick Van Dyke.”

As he put down the bag, Dean looked back at her in confusion. “Who?”

Sam smiled at his question and tried to help him. “...Mary Poppins?”

“Who’s that?”

Riley and Sam shared a look of humor before the Winchester chuckled. “Oh come on--never mind,” he said giving up on the pointless conversation with a wave of his hand.

“Sam, remind me to make this guy watch a Disney movie at some point,” Riley teased as she pinned up pictures of what looked like different types of demons.

Ignoring their encounter, Dean went back on topic as he went to greet Riley with a quick kiss. “Well, it turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month.”

“Another guy got pulled up his chimney?”

“Don’t know. Witnesses said they heard a thump on the roof.” Dean took off his jacket and shrugged before Sam and Riley gestured the same in response. “So, what the hell do you think we're dealing with?”

“Actually, Rye and I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

Finally finishing her task, Riley joined Sam at the table and smirked at Dean. “You’re gonna think it’s crazy.”

“What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to me?”

Sam and Riley both chuckled before the Winchester smiled up at his brother. “Um...evil Santa.”

Dean paused and then nodded in agreeance. “Yeah, that’s crazy.”

“Yeah…I mean, I’m just saying that there’s some version of the anti-Claus in every culture.” Sam pointed to some of their findings on the table and Dean took them to get a closer look. “You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter. Whatever you want to call it, there’s all sorts of lore.”

“Saying what?”

“Well,” Riley started as she looked down at her notes. “Some of it says that back in the day, Santa had a brother--that he went dark-side though and he also shows up around Christmas time. But, this guy didn’t bring you goodies, he punished you for being on the naughty list basically.”

“By hauling their ass up chimneys?”

“That’s just some of it, but yeah.”

“So, this is your theory, huh? Santa’s shady brother? I mean, Santa doesn’t have a brother. There is no Santa.”

Sam scoffed before replying, “yeah, I know. You’re the one who told me that in the first place, remember?” He looked at Dean who glanced down almost looking like he felt guilty. “Yeah, you know what, we could be wrong. I mean,” Sam sighed as he shut his laptop. “We gotta be wrong.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” When his partners looked at him quizzically, Dean grabbed some papers with his own findings. “I did a little digging. Turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched.”

“Where?”

------

A beat-up sign reading, ‘Welcome to Santa’s Village’ hung over the entryway of a large lot. Inside, Christmas music played as employees wandered around in cheesy costumes of elves, reindeer, and snowmen. Cheap lights hung from a red building labeled, ‘Elves Station’ and evergreen trees were being sold toward the back.

Children were running around playing as if the cheap lot was a magical Winter Wonderland.

The three walked in and they all glanced in different directions before Dean said, “You know, all this Christmas talk? I think we should have one.”

“Have one what?” Sam asked.

“A Christmas.”

With a surprised look, Riley replied, “really? I mean, we haven’t done one before.”

“No, thanks,” the younger brother scoffed through a chuckle.

“No, we’ll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we were little, Sammy. But, this time…” Dean said with a smile before putting an arm around Riley, “it’ll be the three of us.”

“Dean, those weren’t exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know.”

“What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases.”

Sam’s face fell as he grew slightly more serious. “Whose childhood are you talking about?”

All of a sudden, Riley felt Sam’s energy change. There was a sadness in him that felt old and like it had always been ingrained in him. She tried to focus on him, hoping she could understand.

Stopping mid-walk, Dean turned to his little brother. “Oh, come on, Sam.”

“No! Just…no.”

Dean looked surprised and somewhat shocked as he turned with Riley to keep going. “Alright, ya fuckin’ Grinch.”

As they both walked away, Sam stood still. His attention went to a small, almost cartoon-like, reindeer statue and he looked uncomfortable.

Riley glanced over her shoulder to watch her brother with curiosity.

------

Broken Bow, Nebraska

Christmas Eve, 1991

On a thick television set, in a worn motel room, reindeers pulled Santa’s sleigh across the sky. It was the movie ‘A Year Without Santa Clause’.

The walls were cracked, left uncared for for years with filthy carpet to match. It smelt of mothballs and the takeout the boys had gotten since John left.

An eight-year-old Sam sat on the floor in front of the set, wrapping a gift in newspaper. Dean, no more than twelve-years-old, stood looking out the front window watching the snow fall.

The older brother noticed Sam and turned to ask, “what is that?”

“A present for Dad.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, right. Where’d you get the money? Steal it?”

“No. Uncle Bobby gave it to me to give to him--said it was real special.” As Sam continued to wrap his gift, Dean sat next to him on the couch and began to read a magazine. The little Winchester looked up with a face of worry. “Dad’s gonna be here, right? It’s Christmas.”

“He knows and he’ll be here. Promise.”

“Where is he anyway?” As young children do, Sam had so many questions. And with John gone, the only one to answer them was his big brother, Dean.

Dean hated when Sam got curious about their lives. Not because he found it annoying as much as he was running out of lies to tell him. “On business.”

“What kind of business?”

“You know that,” Dean replied with a worried look as he fumbled through the car magazine in his hands. “He sells stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Stuff.”

“Nobody ever tells me anything,” Sam said sadly.

Rolling his eyes, Dean stood with a huff and walked back towards his bed. “Then quit asking.”

The bed was covered in garbage and food-wrappers and Dean shoved it off to make room for himself. He sat down and continued to browse the publication.

Sam kneeled on the couch to lean on the back of it and looked at his brother. “Is Dad a spy?”

“Mm-hmm,” Dean snarked. “He’s James Bond.”

“Why do we move around so much?”

It was around that time that Dean was beginning to get frustrated with the barrage of questions. “’Cause everywhere we go, they get sick of your face.”

“I’m old enough, Dean. You can tell me the truth.”

Dean looked up to meet Sam’s gaze. ”You don’t wanna know the truth. Believe me.”

“Is that why we never talk about…Mom?” Sam asked meekly.

Dean immediately tossed the magazine away in anger and stood up before yelling. “Shut up! Don’t you ever talk about Mom, ever!” Grabbing his jacket, he went for the door.

Little Sam was scared to be alone and cried out, “wait, where are you going?”

“Out.” Slamming the door behind him, Dean disappeared into the snowy night.

Sam sat in silence with a look of brokenness in his eyes, Alone and confused, the young Winchester peered back at the holiday special on TV. He wondered if there would ever be a year that he could have a real Christmas like the other kids; one where he felt the magic of the holidays and not the loneliness of a dusty motel room.

-----

The memory had taken Sam back to a time he had long wished to forget. His childhood was painful, and it made him resentful of the holidays. Maybe, had John been around, things would have been different. Or maybe the drinking would have only made it worse. In the end, Sam realized it didn’t matter which way things had gone; he and Dean would always end up right where they were.

Dean had already looked around with Riley and they had made it back to where they had left Sam. “You’d think with the ten fuckin’ bucks it costs to get into this place, Santa could scrounge up a little snow.”

“Wait,” Riley interjected. “We spent thirty bucks to get into the saddest North Pole ever? What a ripoff.”

Sam pulled himself from his memories without hearing either of them. “What?”

Those feelings Riley was picking up on earlier were still there if not stronger. Her brother was hurting and she knew it, but there was no way he’d tell Dean. So, Riley reached out for Sam to whisper into his thoughts. “What’s going on, Sam? You okay?”

As he heard her voice in his mind, his eyes went for hers. “Yeah...I’m good.” His tone was sad and flat, only she decided not to push with Dean around.

“So, what are we looking for, again?” Dean asked, not knowing of their private conversation.

“Um…” Sam looked around the lot and tried to forget it all. “Lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets.”

“Great. So, we’re looking for a pimp Santa. Why the sweets?”

Riley gave Dean a knowing look. “Well, if you smell like candy, the kids will come flocking, ya know?”

“That’s creepy.” Dean’s comment brought out a chuckle from his partners. “How does this thing know who’s been naughty and who’s been nice?”

“No clue.”

The family had continued on only to see a man wearing a Santa costume sitting outside a small barn. It was poorly decorated to appear as if it belonged in the North Pole with nearly no children in line to meet Santa.

Sitting on a red chair, was ‘Santa’. His voice was gruff and he didn’t even wear the beard properly as it hung beneath his chin.

There was nothing about him that didn’t make the hunters feel uncomfortable and their faces showed it. Sam, Riley, and Dean watched as a little boy sat on Santa’s lap.

“You been a good boy this year? ‘Cause Santa’s got a special gift for you,” the man cackled creepily, causing the boy’s mom to grab his arm and pull him away from the disgusting Santa.

Riley scrunched her face feeling the discomfort in the air. “Ugh. Please don’t tell me that Pervy Santa isn’t our guy.”

An adorable young woman with brunette hair and dressed as an elf went to the hunters with a smile on her face. “Welcome to Santa’s court. Can I escort your child to Santa?”

“Uh…” Sam uttered awkwardly.

“No. No. Uh--but actually my brother here…” Dean smiled as he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “...it's been a lifelong dream of his.”

Riley could suddenly hear the girl’s thoughts and they made her chortle through her nose.

“What is wrong with this freak?” Finally speaking out loud, the elf turned to Sam with an uneasy look. “Uh--sorry. No kids over...uh--twelve.”

“No, he’s just kidding,” Sam tried to fix what his brother had done only to make it worse. “We only came here to watch.”

The elf looked at Dean who just shook his head and she hurried away. “Ew.”

Sam groaned to himself before he yelled out to her as she walked away. “I--I didn’t mean that we came here to wa--we--” He glared at Dean who was laughing. “Thanks a lot, Dean. Thanks for that.”

“Really, Sam…” Riley teased. “They’re children.”

Dean high-fived her at her joke and Sam just rolled his eyes.

When she looked back up at the Santa, he was leaving his chair, walking with a bad limp. “Uh--you guys seeing this?”

The man slowly passed the hunters, their eyes never leaving him.

“A lot of people walk with limps, right?” Sam shrugged.

“Tell me you didn’t smell that. That was candy, man.”

Wafting the smell away from her face, Riley shook her head with a look of disgust. “Ugh. More like cherry schnapps...or Ripple.”

Dean chuckled as he replied, “well, you might be right. But we willing to take that chance?”

------

That night, inside the Impala, Riley and the Winchesters sat in front of a trailer near the woods. There was a small string of colored Christmas lights lining the roof with a fir tree directly next to the old car parked out front.

Leaning on the driver’s door, Dean yawned through his words. “What time is it?”

“Same as the last time you asked. Here…” Sam reached from the backseat to hand Dean a thermos. “Caffeinate.”

Dean took the canister from him and tried to pour coffee into his cup. The thermos was completely empty and the older brother groaned. “Wonderful.”

As she too yawned, Riley had been staring at the man’s house. Without looking away she asked, “kinda reminds you of the van you were told to stay away from as a kid, huh?”

Both of the Winchesters laughed before silence fell over the car.

Dean smiled and scoffed as he shifted to face Sam. “Hey, Sam. Why are you the boy that hates Christmas?”

“Dean…” Sam groaned under his breath.

“I mean, I admit it. You know, we had a few bumpy holidays when we were kids…”

“Bumpy?”

“That was then. We’ll do it right this year.”

“Look, Dean. If you want to have Christmas, knock yourself out. Just don’t involve me.”

Dean looked at his brother in disbelief before he glanced over to Riley. “Fine. Guess it’ll just me and Rye making the cranberry molds.”

Unsure of why Dean had been so adamant about having Christmas, Riley could only half smile at his offer.

As they returned to watching the house, the filthy Santa from earlier stood in his window. Still in his red cap, but in a dirty and stained white tank top, he looked outside before closing his curtains.

“What’s up with Saint Nicotine?” Dean asked.

The sound of a woman shouting came from inside the trailer and the three jumped out of the car. Running toward the house, they drew their guns and readied themselves at the door.

Sam let out a breathy chuckle making Dean turn to him. “What?”

“Nothing,” the young Winchester answered. “It’s just that, uh--well, you know, Mr. Gung Ho Christmas might have to blow away Santa.”

Dean gave his brother an annoyed look while Riley tried to hide the smirk crawling up her face.

Quickly opening the door, they all went inside but stopped in their tracks as they looked around. Santa was sitting on the couch, holding a giant bong and a bottle of whiskey. He stood and the hunters quickly hid their guns.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the Santa slurred in his drunken stupor.

Their eyes all went to the old TV set that was playing a cheap Christmas porno.

“Why don’t you mistle my toe? Roast my chestnut--egg my nog…”

Trying to control their urge to laugh, Sam just shrugged at the man without an answer to his question.

Riley suddenly had an idea and began to sing. “Silent night, holy night…” She nudged the boys who began to sing terribly along. Neither knew the words and were completely tone deaf.

“All is well…all is dry. Round and round…” Sam and Dean tried to sing along and stumbled as they failed to match Riley’s lyrics. “...the table.”

Though they sounded like a train wreck, Santa sat down to watch them and grinned with amusement.

Riley’s hands both reached for the brothers’ jackets as she tugged them towards the door with a smile on her face. She kept singing as Sam and Dean stumbled out with her.

------

After another man had been taken from his home, the hunters had gone to the new victim’s house. It too was fully decorated and full of the Christmas spirit aside from the crying wife. Sam, Dean, and Riley were dressed in their suits as they interviewed the woman.

“So, that’s how your son described the attack?” Dean questioned. “Santa took daddy up the chimney?”

The woman had curly dirty-blonde hair with a large bruise over her right eye. “That’s what he says, yes.”

“And where were you?”

“I was asleep and all of a sudden…” she sniffled and her eyes were cast down as they darted back and forth at the memory. “I was being dragged out of bed, screaming.”

Trying not to get sucked into the emotions of yet another grieving wife, Riley focused on her breathing as she had trouble getting her question out. “Mrs.--Mrs. Caldwell, did, uh--did you happen to see your attacker?”

She shook her head and folded her arms. “It was dark and he hit me. He knocked me out.”

Riley swallowed hard, still fighting her empathic abilities. “I’m so sorry.”

“Mrs. Caldwell,” Sam started as he looked above her. “Where--where did you get that wreath above the fireplace?”

Dean and Riley turned to where he had pointed as did Mrs. Caldwell who stood dumbfounded.

“Excuse me?”

The others stared at Sam waiting for an answer but the Winchester just smiled and shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “Just curious, you know.”

After the interview had finished, the three walked through the overly decorated front yard of the home. There were twig shaped reindeer, lit up trees, and angels that glowed.

“Wreaths, huh?” Dean’s eyebrow hooked as he glanced to Sam. “Sure you didn’t want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer.”

Sam scoffed. “We’ve seen that wreath before, Dean.”

They had reached Baby when Riley stopped and turned to Sam. “You’re right.”

“He is?” Dean asked in surprise.

“Yeah. We saw the exact one at the Walshes’.”

Dean nodded, faking his knowledge of their findings. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course. I was just testing you guys.”

------

Riley was at the small kitchenette sink of their motel room making a pot of coffee while Dean went over more lore at the coffee table. Sam walked around the room with his phone to his ear as he wrapped up his call with Bobby.

“Yeah, alright. Well, keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby.” Sam hung up with a sigh and went back to the table to sit in front of his laptop. “Well…we’re not dealing with the anti-Claus.”

“Really?” Riley asked as she brought Sam a fresh cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “But, uh--yeah. Bobby says we’re fucking morons.” Sam chuckled and the others smirked knowing that was typical Bobby. “He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths.”

“Wow. Amazing,” Dean answered flatly and sarcastically. “What the fuck is meadowsweet?”

“It’s pretty rare and it’s probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore.”

Dean tilted his head up to kiss Riley as she gave him his mug. “So, pagan lore?”

“Yeah. See, they used meadowsweet for human sacrifice. It was kind of like a...chum for their gods. Gods were drawn to it and they’d stop by and snack on whatever was the nearest human.”

As Riley sat next to Dean, she blew to cool her hot beverage. “But with Christmas wreaths? Why?”

“It's not as crazy as it sounds. I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is pagan.”

“Christmas is Jesus’s birthday,” Dean rebutted.

With her boots kicked off, Riley sat crisscrossed as she sipped her coffee. She made a sound of disagreement through her drink. “Actually, Jesus was probably born during the fall. The winter solstice festival was co-opted by the Catholics and rebranded as ‘Christmas’. And it’s kind of the whole shebang--the Yule log, the tree, even the fat man’s red suit--all leftovers from pagan worship.”

Sam nodded with an impressed look and Dean appeared slightly taken back. “Sometimes I forget how fuckin’ smart you are. But, come on, what are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny’s Jewish?” Riley smiled as Dean scooted closer to put his hand on her thigh. “So, Sam, you think we’re gonna dealing with a pagan god?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “Probably Hold Nickar, god of the winter solstice.”

“And all these Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths…”

“Yeah, it’s pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying ‘come kill us’.”

Still sipping at her drink, Riley’s brow hooked. “Damn. Not even your Christmas décor is safe.”

The younger brother scrolled through the webpage and scoffed a laugh under his breath. “Huh. When you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return?”

“Lap dances, hopefully,” Dean joked as Riley smiled with a soft chuckle.

“Mild weather.”

Dean looked out the window saying, “like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan.”

“For instance.”

“Okay, so the question is how to the hell do we kill it?”

“Don’t know. Bobby’s working on that right now. We got to figure out where they’re selling those wreaths.”

Sitting up to look at Sam, Riley asked, “wait, do we think someone’s selling these on purpose? Basically feeding this thing?”

With a heavy exhale Sam shrugged. “Let’s find out.”

------

The bell above the door jingled as Sam, Riley, and Dean walked into a small Christmas shop. ‘Deck the Halls’ was playing and the entire store was covered from wall to wall in decorations. It smelt of wood and cinnamon with hints of pine.

An older gentleman in glasses and white hair stood behind a glass counter. “Can I help you, kids?”

“Uh--hope so,” Dean answered with a grin. “Uh--we were playing Jenga over at the Walshes’ the other night, and, uh--well,” the older brother gestured to Sam. “He hasn’t shut up since about this Christmas wreath, and…” Looking at Sam, he shot him a teasing look. “I don’t know, you tell him.”

Sam’s annoyance with his brother was hard to contain as he replied, “...sure.” He cleared his throat and turned to the shopkeeper before giving him a tight-lipped smile. “...it was yummy.”

“I sell a lot of wreaths, guys.” The man looked at the three while curious and unsure.

“Right, right, but--but you see, this one would have been really special. It had, uh, it had, uh--green leaves, um...white buds on it. It might have been made of, uh…meadowsweet?”

The shopkeeper sighed. “Well, aren’t you a fussy one?”

Sam looked frustrated and embarrassed but Riley and Dean tried to control their laughter before Dean told the shopkeeper, “oh, he is…”

As he laughed, Sam’s eyes sat on his brother with frustration.

“Anyway, I know the one you’re talking about. I’m all out.”

Realizing that Dean was going to make the trip mostly about giving Sam a hard time, Riley butted in. “Isn’t meadowsweet pretty rare? I mean, it’s gotta be expensive. What made you want to make wreaths out of it?”

“Well, I didn't make them.”

“Oh, uh--who did?”

“Madge Carrigan--a local lady. She said the wreaths were so special, she gave them to me for free.”

“Wait...she didn’t charge you for them?”

“Nope.”

Riley looked at the man with skepticism. “So...you gave them away?”

“Hell no,” the shopkeeper scoffed. “It’s Christmas. People pay a butt-load for this crap.”

With a smile and a nod, Dean added, “that’s the spirit.”

------

Dean flicked on the light of their room as the three walked back inside. “How much do you think a meadowsweet wreath would cost?”

“A couple hundred dollars, at least,” Sam answered.

The family all took off their jackets to put them on the couch before going to sit on their beds.

Riley leaned down and began to unlace her boots. “This lady is just handing out expensive wreaths like that? I mean, definitely sounds suspicious.”

With another happy memory hitting Dean, he smiled and turned to Sam. “Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?”

Sam’s brow scrunched not understanding Dean’s joy in the recollection. “You mean the one he stole from, like--a liquor store?”

“Yeah,” he beamed with a smile from ear to ear. “It was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it.”

Sighing to himself, Sam shook. “Alright. Dude…what’s going on with you?”

“What?”

“I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you want Christmas so bad?”

Riley scooted back to rest against the headboard with her knees bent. “You gonna tell us why you’ve been so against it, Sam? I’ve been feeling it ever since we got on this case. Did things just kinda suck during the holidays when you were a kid?”

“No, that has nothing to do with it.”

Digging even further, Dean questioned, “then what?

“I--I mean, I--I just...I don’t get it. You haven’t talked about Christmas in years.”

Dean paused before shrugging. “Well, yeah. This is my last year.”

Silence fell over the room as Sam and Riley’s hearts sank at the realization.

Riley wondered how she could have not remembered that Dean wouldn’t be around for any more of their Christmases It was then that Riley knew how deeply in denial she was over his time being nearly up. She could feel the tears forming and she cleared her throat before practically jumping off the bed. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Before Dean could say anything, Riley hurried off to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Quickly, she turned on the shower and began to cry. The hunter leaned against the wall before sliding down to the floor. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle her cries and began to sob.

That Christmas would just serve as a reminder that the memories they had already made, would be all they would ever get.

Sam and Dean sat in the quiet, not sure what to say.

That’s when Sam looked up to Dean as he tried to hide the pain he was in. “I know it’s your last, Dean. That’s why I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean?”

The young hunter’s eyes grew red and welled. “I mean I can’t just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything’s okay when I know next Christmas you’ll be dead.” Dean only nodded at what Sam had said. “To be honest, I don’t know if Riley can either. Dean, I--I just can’t.”

Realizing the sadness in Sam’s voice, Dean nodded once again and dropped the subject. With no words left to say, Sam and Dean sat on their beds with their heads hung; Christmas lights twinkling through the window.

------

Christmas Eve 1991

Sam sat on the couch reading a comic book as the snow outside the window continued to fall. He turned to the sound of the door opening as Dean walked inside with a bag of groceries.

“Thought you went out.”

“Yeah, to get you dinner.” Dean tossed his little brother a bag of food. “Don’t forget your vegetables,” he added with a smile as he threw him a bag of Funyuns. Dean took off his jacket and sat down on his bed before opening a soda can.

Determined to be done with the secrets, Sam sat across from Dean. “I know why you keep a gun under your pillow.”

Dean lifted his pillow to make sure his little brother hadn’t taken his pistol to see it unmoved. “No, you don’t. Stay out of my stuff.”

“And I know why we lay salt down everywhere we go.”

“No, you don’t.” Though Dean sounded angry, it was worry. Sam couldn’t know the truth yet, he wasn’t ready to know. “Shut up.”

Sam turned around and grabbed something from underneath his bed. It was a leather book and the Winchester tossed it onto the nightstand between their beds. It was John’s journal.

Standing up, almost in shock that Sam had the book, Dean stared down at his brother. “Where’d you get that? That’s Dad’s! He’s gonna kick your ass for reading that.”

The littlest Winchester met his brother’s gaze without fear. “Are monsters real?”

“What? You’re crazy.”

“Tell me.”

Dean bit his lip in uncertainty and hesitation. He glanced down at the book and then back to Sam. “I swear, if you ever tell Dad I told you any of this, I will end you.”

“Promise.”

As the older brother sat back down, he sighed and rubbed his thighs nervously. “Well, the first thing you have to know is we have the coolest dad in the world. He’s a superhero.”

“He is?” A small smile grew on Sam’s face.

“Yeah. Monsters are real--Dad fights them. He’s fighting them right now.”

“But Dad said the monsters under my bed weren’t real.”

Dean half-laughed at the thought. “That’s ’cause he had already checked under there. But, yeah, they’re real. Almost everything’s real.”

With the innocent eyes of an eight-year-old boy, Sam asked, “...is Santa real?”

Smiling and shaking his head, Dean replied, “no.”

There was a pause as Sam grew sad and his head fell. It was at that moment that Sam’s innocence was gone. Though he didn’t know it, in listening to his brother that night, Sam’s life changed forever. ��If monsters are real, then they could get us. They could get me.”

“Dad’s not gonna let them get you.”

“But what if they get him?”

“They aren’t gonna get Dad. Dad’s, like...the best.”

“...I read in Dad’s book that they got Mom.”

Dean exhaled sharply not sure what to say. “It’s complicated, Sam.”

His little brother’s voice broke as his fear and anxiety grew. “If they got Mom, they can get Dad. And if they get Dad, they can get us.”

“It’s not like that.” Dean got up to sit next to Sam on his bed, trying to comfort him as best he could. “Okay? Dad’s fine. We’re fine. Trust me.” Still seeing the fear in his little brother’s eyes, Dean put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam whispered as he looked away to hide the tears growing in his eyes.

“Hey, Dad’s gonna be here for Christmas. Just like he always is.”

With his lip trembling, Sam refused to face his brother. ashamed of his tears. “I just want to go to sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean’s voice was soft with guilt. He had dreaded the day that he would have to ruin Sam’s childhood and it weighed heavily on him.

Sam laid down on the bed and cried quietly to himself but Dean never left his side. “It’ll all be better when you wake up.”

Trying to be quiet, Sam began to sob.

“You’ll see, Sam. ...promise.”

------

Cheery Christmas music played on the outside of a large white house with decorations everywhere. A lit up snowman, a sleigh, poinsettias, lights, and bells filled the yard and porch.

As the hunters got out of the Impala, they walked up the concrete path to the brick entrance.

“This is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh? Can’t you just feel the evil pagan vibe?” Dean snarked before using the brass knocker on the door. With every click, jingle bells clanked from the strip of bells hanging from the handle.

A woman most likely in her late 60’s opened the door with a cheerful grin on her face. “Yes?” She was in an old fashioned pink dress with a white cardigan and matching pearls. Her hair was curled and set, pinned from her face.

“Hi,” Riley began with a smile. “We were hoping you were the Madge Carrigan that made all those beautiful meadowsweet wreaths.”

“Why, yes I am.” Madge’s voice was sweet and full of high spirits.

“Oh, great! We actually were all admiring one of your wreaths at the Sylar’s place the other day.”

As Riley continued to sweet talk Mrs. Carrigan, Dean tried to peer into the home.

Inside looked like the Santa himself lived there. There were countless collectibles, adornments of holly, a large gingerbread house on the table, and garland up the staircase. The strong smell of evergreen and freshly baked cookies wafted out the door.

“You were? Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?”

Sam nodded in agreeance. “It is, it sure is. But, the problem is, is that all you wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one.”

“Oh, fudge!”

“You wouldn’t have another one that we could buy from you, would you?” Dean asked.

“Oh, no, I’m afraid those were the only ones I had for this season.”

Riley glanced up at the boys with a look of disappointment. “Oh, darn it,” she feigned.

Mr. Carrigan came down the staircase in a cardigan with an old-fashioned pipe. He stood by his wife and smiled. The two of them looked far too picture-esque as if they had just time traveled from the 1950’s.

“What's going on, honey?” The man’s voice was just as upbeat and cheery as Madge’s.

She turned to him, her smile never falling. “Well, just some nice kids asking about my wreaths, dear.”

“Oh, the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths. Oh, care for some peanut brittle?” Mr. Carrigan held out a small red tin filled with sweet treats.

As Dean reached out to take some, Riley slapped Dean’s hand away. “Thank you so much, but we’re okay.”

-------

Dean and Riley’s knives worked to sharpen wooden stakes as they sat on the beds. Five other wooden stakes sat at their feet and on the beds beside them.

In front of his laptop, Sam kept researching until he clapped his hands in a moment of excitement at what he found.

“I knew it! Something was way off with those two.”

“I’m assuming that means you found something.” Riley dusted the wood shavings off her pants and onto the carpet below.

“The Carrigans lived in Seattle, last year, where two abductions took place right around Christmas. They moved here in January. All that Christmas shit in their house--that wasn’t boughs of holly. It was vervain and mint.”

She nodded. “Oof. That screams Pagan.”

“Really?” Dean asked. “‘Cause to me it sounds like the beginning of a well-seasoned recipe.”

“I gotta tell you guys, I wasn’t picking up on anything from them. Literally, nothing. That doesn’t usually happen unless we’re talking about something that isn’t human.”

“So, what, Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a pagan god hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?”

“I don’t know. All I know is we gotta check them out.” Closing his laptop, Sam got up to inspect one of the stakes. “So, what about Bobby? He’s sure evergreen stakes will kill this thing, right?

Blowing off the dust from her last wooden creation, Riley looked at the sharp end of the stake. “Yup. Time to put down Mr. and Mrs. Christmas with a Christmas tree. Huh,” she paused. “That’s a weird sentence.”

------

Outside the Carrigan house once again, that night, the family stood on the front porch as Dean picked the lock. Riley and Sam kept the lookout and took stakes out of the older brother’s bag as ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ played into the quiet neighborhood from the porch’s speakers.

Once inside, the hunters quietly moved through the house and into the family room. The Carrigan’s large tree sat in front of their main window;=, its lights lit as if waiting for Santa.

Dean pointed to the couch and whispered, “see? Plastic.” He shook his head disapprovingly and the others gave a judgmental look as well as they touched it.

Riley could hear Dean’s thought as Sam walked a little ahead. “Jesus. Can you imagine having sex on this couch?”

Trying not to giggle, Riley replied, “oh, yeah. Think of how much your ass would stick to that thing.”

There were times where Riley being in Dean’s head still took him by surprise. He turned in her direction with a shake of his head as he mouthed, ‘no thank you’.

In the hall, Sam tried to keep his heavy boots quiet. He was surrounded by ornaments and snow globes as he walked into the kitchen. Plates filled with cookies, cakes, and other sweets lined the table.

To his right, Sam saw a door that led out of the kitchen and most likely into the basement. He clicked on his flashlight to point it at the lock to look more closely. It was open.

“Guys…” he whispered.

Slowly, the hunters headed down the stairs, all with their flashlights shining in front of them. As Dean pointed his directly forward, he saw bones covered in blood sitting in a large bowl. Riley and the brothers looked around and realized the entire basement looked like a butchery room rather than a storage space. Blood, bones, and what looked like metal devices to inflict torture were strewn about the floor and countertops.

A pair of bloody Santa boots and the matching bag, smelt of death as they sat on a box in the corner.

Sam had stumbled upon what looked like an electric wood saw with pieces of cut bone left behind. He scrunched his face in disgust with a groan before moving on.

Nearby, Riley found a bag hanging from a hook on the wall. It was bloody and her curiosity drew her in. As she reached out to touch it, she gasped as the bag began to move with muffled cries. Someone was inside struggling to get free.

Riley jumped at the movement and sensed someone behind her. There was Madge. The woman grabbed Riley’s neck and lifted her off the ground. Softly yelping in surprise, Riley clutched at the hand around her throat.

“Riley!” Sam and Dean shouted in unison hearing her cry as they charged in her direction.

Pushing Riley up against a wall, Madge slammed Riley’s head hard into the brick, letting her drop to the ground. The evil woman slinked back into the shadows just as the brothers rushed around the large basement.

Their lights lit up the way ahead of them, showing Riley lying on the ground and not moving.

Before Sam and Dean could reach her, Mr. Carrigan grabbed Sam’s arm and knocked his head against the wall.

Dean turned at the sound, “Sam!”

At that same moment, a large 2x4 was swung at Dean’s head by Mrs. Carrigan.

With all the hunters down on the ground, the couple smiled.

------

The pagan’s kitchen was lit with candles next to several mortar bowls, knives, and hardware tools. Both Sam and Dean were tied to chairs back to back.

Once finally fully alert, but unable to see his siblings, Sam softly called, “Dean...Rye? You okay?”

Dean groaned as he pulled his head up. “I think so. Where’s Riley?”

“Over here…” Riley replied.

The two looked over toward the sound of her voice to see her to a chair as well that sat firmly against the wall.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

“Aside from the pounding headache, yeah.” Her eyes squinted as she looked over to them.

Sam sighed. “So, I guess we’re dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God. Nice to know.”

Dressed in colorful Christmas-themed sweaters, the Carrigans walked into the kitchen practically beaming seeing the hunters awake.

“Speaking of the Yuletide douchebags…”

“Ooh, and here we thought you three lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff.” Madge giggled as she scurried across the floor to get things from the shelf.

Overly sarcastic no matter what the situation, Dean replied, “and miss all this? Nah, we’re partiers”.

“Isn’t he a kick in the pants, honey?” Mr. Carrigan stared down at them as he took a puff from his pipe. “You’re hunters, is what you are.”

“And you’re pagan gods. So, why don't we just call it even, and go our separate ways?”

Mr. Carrigan laughed. “What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us? I don’t think so.”

Frustrated as he pulled against his restraints, Sam tried to look over his shoulder to leer at the couple. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans, now, huh?”

“Oh now, don’t get all wet.”

Madge unfolded dinner napkins and began placing them in the hunters’ laps. “Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that’s a fact. Now, what do we take? What, two? Three?”

“Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew here make five.”

“Now, that’s not so bad, is it?”

Riley was still slightly spinning from the blow to the head but managed to keep her usual level of snark. “Wow, well we were just all wrong about you, weren’t we? I mean--you guys are practically Ward and June Cleaver.”

“You, little miss…” Mr. Carrigan said pointing his pipe at the blue-eyed hunter. “You better show us a little respect.”

“Or what? You’ll eat me?”

The husband laughed heartily as he looked back at Riley. “Well, you know, the missus and I have always felt it best to use men for the rituals. That’s just how it’s always been. But you…” Mr. Carrigan walked closer to Riley who had anger in her eyes. “We figured we might make an exception. Because you’re not completely human are you? No, you’re something special--something… what’s the word I’m looking for, dear?” he asked his wife.

Madge grinned as she continued to set up. “Well, she’s practically a rare delicacy isn’t she?”

“A delicacy. Spot on, dear.” Turning back to Riley, he still practically twinkled with joy. “And I’m betting what you would add to the mix would be just top notch, don’t you agree, honey?” He asked to his wife.

“Oh, absolutely. Might give it the extra kick we’ve needed to help us have it like we did in the good old days. We’re such sticklers for rituals though and have to do this right. And you know what kicks off the whole party?”

“Let me guess…” Dean said jumping in. “Meadowsweet.” Madge ran around the kitchen island with a squeal of excitement in response. “Oh shucks, you’re all out of wreaths. I guess we’ll just have to cancel the sacrifice, huh?”

“Oh, don’t be such a gloomy Gus.” She held three horseshoe-shaped wreaths and hung them all around their captives’ necks. “There. Ohh…don’t they just look darling?”

“Good enough to eat.” Mr. Carrigan smacked his lips as he whipped out a knife. “Alrighty-roo. Step number two.” Carrying a bowl and the blade, he walked to Sam. The man held the bowl under the Winchester’s arm and prepared to cut him with the knife.

Dean fought with all his strength to turn to his little brother, but to no avail. “Sammy?! Sammy?!”

“D-Don’t!” Sam’s demand almost sounded like a plea before it slowly turned to a scream as Mr. Carrigan tore into his flesh.

Both Riley and Dean shouted over each other with anger at Sam’s pain.

“Leave him alone, you son of a bitch! I swear to god, I’ll kill you!”

“This might pinch a bit, dear.” Mrs. Carrigan had gone to Riley and the hunter bore her eyes into the god.

“You hurt her and I’ll fucking rip you apart,” Dean growled.

Riley’s teeth gritted together through her scream and she squeezed her eyes shut as the blade cut into her forearm. Only a second later, another cry ripped from her throat as Mrs. Carrigan cut her other arm as well.

Dean’s rage boiled inside him and his chair only slightly moved at the force he fought against it with. His family was being tortured and it was driving him to the brink of insanity.

It was then Dean’s turn to have the blade cut into him and he too released a shout of pain. “You fucking bitch!”

“Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a couple of nickels to the swear jar. Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing? ‘Fudge’.”

Panting, Dean snarked, “I’ll try and remember that!” As she smiled at him, the woman brought the knife back down to his other side. “You fudging touch me again and I’ll fudging kill you!”

“Very good!” she exclaimed, cutting into the hunter once more as he groaned in pain.

Mr. Carrigan picked up a pair of pliers and walked back to Sam. “You kids have no idea how lucky you are. There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are.”

With panic in his voice, Sam’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “What do you think you’re doing with those? No. No. Don’t.”

The man took the pliers to Sam’s index finger and began to pull the nail off as Sam screamed.

In a state of distress, Riley couldn’t block her empathic abilities and began to wail along with him. It felt as though her own fingernail was being torn from her body.

The two gods turned to each other with astonishment and then back at her with Sam’s nail pinched in the pliers.

“Oh, my goodness, me…” Mrs. Carrigan exclaimed. “Darling, I think we’ve found ourselves an empath.”

After putting the nail into the bowl that was drenched in the hunters’ blood, he put down the pliers and clapped with excitement. “Well, hotdog! It’s officially a party!” Mr. Carrigan tapped his head ridiculously remembering something. “Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick…I forgot the tooth.”

Sam, Riley, and Dean were all panting hard trying to overcome their pain.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Dean uttered as the others groaned.

With the pliers in his hand once again, Carrigan grabbed Dean’s chin. “Open wide… and say, ‘aah’.” Just as he put the tool into Dean’s mouth, the doorbell rang.

“Somebody gonna get that?” Dean asked, his voice muffled with the pliers still in his mouth. “You should get that.”

Mr. Carrigan rolled his eyes and motioned for his wife. “Come on.”

As soon as the couple was out of the room, Dean looked over to Riley. “We gotta get out of here. I don’t wanna be this year’s Christmas turkey.”

“Yeah,” Riley agreed out of breath. “Can we kill them now, please?”

“Oh, yeah…” Sam muttered.

------

Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan came back into the kitchen with smiles on their faces. “Now, where were we?” Madge giggled.

Riley and the Winchesters were no longer in their chairs. The gods saw one of the doors close with a slam and they turned around to see the other door close as well.

Sam and Riley were standing against one as they tried to keep it shut and Dean did the same on his end.

The Carrigans pounded on the door, again and again, fighting the hunters attempt to lock them in.

Dean pulled a large drawer to hold his door closed and ran to help his partners. As soon as Dean was against the banging door, Riley let go and ran across the room only to shove the Christmas tree to the ground. The ornaments crashed on the hardwood and shattered as her hands went into the branches.

“Damn, Rye!” Sam yelled. “I know they were gonna eat us, but what did the tree do?”

She grunted as she yanked a branch off. “Stakes are in the basement. Luckily, we got some fresh evergreen right here.”

Dean grinned and shook his head. “You’re fucking brilliant, you know that?”

Riley nodded playfully as Dean looked to a large cabinet. “Sam! Help me get this.”

The brothers moved the cabinet in front of the tree and rushed to grab branches from the tree. They stripped them of their needles and prepared to fight.

It went silent as they approached the kitchen door. Suddenly, Mr. Carrigan tackled Dean to the ground and began punching him again and again.

Sam shouted, “Dean!” as he ran to his aid and fought to get the man off his brother.

A sound came from behind Riley and she turned to see Madge smiling back at her. “You little thing.” Her face distorted momentarily and swung violently in almost a blur. “I loved that tree.”

As Riley went to raise her stake, Madge hit her and the hunter crashed into the couch and onto the floor. She grabbed branches at her side as the god walked towards her and hit her as hard as she could.

Riley fought to keep the woman at arm's length as the Winchesters overpowered Mr. Carrigan. Sam pinned him to the ground as Dean shoved the stake into his chest.

Madge screamed as she watched her husband and froze in shock, giving Riley the perfect opportunity to stab her with her own stake. The hunter scrunched her face and grunted as she pushed the stake further in before Madge fell to the ground, dead.

The three struggled to catch their breaths as they looked at each other.

“Merry Christmas,” Sam said through ragged breath.

------

Christmas Eve 1991

All was quiet as the children of the world waited for Santa. The snow continued to fall over the motel housing the lonely Winchester boys as Sam slept soundly in his bed.

Dean went to his side and shook his brother to wake him. “Sam, wake up!”

Just as Sam’s eyes began to open, he turned towards Dean who had a smile on his face.

“Dad was here. Look what he brought.”

His gaze turned around to see a little Christmas tree, decorated with a few large and colorful lights. A few small presents sat beneath the small piece of chopped evergreen.

“Dad was here?” Sam asked groggily.

“Yeah. Look at this. We made a killing.”

Yawning, Sam mumbled, “why didn't he try to wake me up?”

Dean thought quickly on his feet with a playful scoff. “He tried to, like a thousand times.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Did I tell you he would give us Christmas, or what? Go on, dive in.”

Sam leaped from his bed and hurried over to the Christmas tree. He found two presents wrapped with themed wrapping paper; one even was adorned with a shiny green bow.

Sitting on the couch, he began to unwrap his first gift.

Dean sat on the arm of the couch and watched his little brother with excitement. “What is it?”

Baffled, Sam held up a pink box. “Sapphire Barbie?”

The older brother chuckled. “Dad probably thinks you’re a girl.”

“Shut up!” Sam tossed the Barbie to the ground.

“Open that one.”

As the youngest Winchester opened his second gift, he found a sparkling cheerleading stick.

John had broken his promise, again.

Sam held it in his hands sadly before looking to Dean. “Dad never showed, did he?”

“Yeah, he did, I swear.”

“Dean…where’d you get all this stuff?”

Realizing he couldn’t lie anymore, Dean’s eye cast down with a sigh. “Nice house up the block. I swear I didn’t know they were chick presents.” Dean watched his sad brother with a heavy heart, desperate to bring him comfort. “Look, I’m sure Dad would have been here if he could.”

“If he’s alive.”

“Don’t say that. Of course, he’s alive. He’s Dad.”

It was then that Sam noticed the heavy burden on Dean’s shoulders; that his big brother worried just as much as Sam did. Grabbing the present he had wrapped in newspaper earlier that night, he held it out to Dean. “Here, take this.”

“No. No, that’s for Dad.”

“Dad lied to me. I want you to have it.” Sam continued to hold out the gift to Dean with a small curl on his lip.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Trying to hide his moment of excitement, Dean finally took the gift and began to tear into it. Inside, was a necklace. It was a black cord that had an amulet hanging in from it. The piece was a metallic gold color and depicted the head of a humanoid being with horns and tribal adornment.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he smiled so genuinely as he held the amulet in his hand. “Thank you, Sam. I--I love it.” He proudly put the necklace on over his head and the boys sat in silence with an unspoken love between them.

Even if they were alone on Christmas, as long as they had each other, that would always be enough.

------

There wasn’t a day that had passed since that Christmas Eve, almost sixteen years before, that Dean hadn’t worn that necklace. It was practically a part of who he was.

Dean walked into their motel room and grinned with surprise. Riley and Sam had decorated the room with a small Christmas tree and a ‘Merry Christmas’ sign. Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played as Riley smiled in his direction, putting on the final ornament. Sam looked at his brother lovingly as Dean took it all in.

With amazement and joy in his eyes, Dean asked, “what’s all this?”

Riley stood next to Sam and shrugged playfully. “Looks like Christmas to me.”

Dean’s eyes met his brothers with a smirk. “What made you change your mind?”

Handing his big brother a glass of eggnog, Sam ignored his question. “Here, uh--try the eggnog. Let me know if it needs some more kick.”

With only a single sip, Dean coughed, looking surprised at the taste. “No, we’re good,” he practically wheezed through his cough.

“Good. Well, uh--have a seat. Let’s do…Christmas stuff, or whatever.”

Dean nodded happily as he took off his jacket. “Alright, first things first.” As Sam and Riley sat on the brown, worn couch, Dean pulled up a chair. He took out four packages wrapped in brown paper from a plastic bag and held them out to his family. “Merry Christmas, guys.”

The two smiled as they took them and Riley peered up at him. “Where’d you even go?”

“Someplace special,” Dean replied. The two looked at him waiting for a better answer. “The gas mart down the street.” His brother and girlfriend laughed at his response. “Open them up.”

Both Sam and his sister reached under the couch for four more packages, each all wrapped in newspaper. The two swapped gifts between them and Sam kissed Riley’s temple before they gave Dean his.

With surprise and excitement, Dean asked, “really?” before taking his gifts.

Sam opened his first gift and laughed as he held up two porn magazines. “Skin mags!” Dean nodded, satisfied with Sam’s reaction as his brother opened his next gift. “And…shaving cream.”

“You like?”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled from ear to ear. “Yeah.” Opening his next two from Riley, Sam found a bag of trail mix and a small bottle of lotion. “Lotion?” he asked with an uncertain smile.

Riley chuckled. “Well, it was supposed to be a joke, but now it goes perfectly with your new porn, brother!”

Dean threw his head back in laughter, practically grabbing his stomach.

Giving her a teasing middle finger, Sam smiled and feigned, “haha, very funny. But I’m about to bust into this trail mix as soon as we’re done. Thanks, sis.”

The Winchesters turned to Riley showing it was her turn to open hers and she giggled unwrapping her gifts. She laughed as she found two of her favorite chocolate candy bars, a bottle of gas station-brand scented soap, and a pair of fluffy blue socks. “Oh, boys...you spoil me,” she beamed. “Thank you, guys.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Dean said as Riley went to him to give him a kiss. He opened his arms allowing her to sit on his lap and he wrapped himself around her as he opened his. Sheer joy covered his face as he found a bottle of motor oi, and a candy bar. “Look at this. Fuel for me and fuel for my baby. These are awesome. Thanks.” Dean’s face looked like it was probably beginning to ache with a smile that couldn’t stop.

Opening his next gifts, he found a pair of sunglasses and a Christmas bow. “Uh--Rye, I think the bow goes on the gifts, sweetheart.”

“That is very true.” Riley took the bow, removed its sticker, and slapped it on her chest, right above her breasts. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

Dean laughed as his face buried into her neck, holding her close. Riley squealed and his fingers pinched her chin before he kissed her, smiling against her lips. “Best gifts ever.” He picked up his eggnog and grinned as he held it out, “Merry Christmas, guys.”

Sam and Riley held their plastic glasses out as well and they toasted them together.

“Merry Christmas,” they all said.

The room fell quiet as spirits briefly fell. They all knew that Christmas would be the last they would spend together.

Riley was consumed by the Winchester’s heavy hearts and she exhaled hard trying to shut it out. If that was going to be their last Christmas, they were going to do it right. She got up and rushed to her bag before she ran back with a camera. The brothers groaned with a laugh as she sat on the couch and motioned for them.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop complaining and smile for our Christmas card,” she joked.

Dean wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close as Sam reluctantly scooted to her side. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Sam and Dean to smile along with her before the flash went off.

As they pulled apart, Dean took the camera from her. When she looked at him, he pulled her in for a kiss as he reached his arm far out to take a picture. Their lips were curled with contentment as he triggered the camera.

Sam opened his mouth to speak as the couple pulled apart and Dean looked to his brother with worry over what he would say.

“Hey, Dean, y–-” Sam looked sad as he fumbled for his words. He hesitated and then sighed before meeting his brother’s eyes. “Do you feel like watching the game?”

Dean smiled in relief. “Absolutely.”

“Alright.”

Standing up, Sam reached over to turn on the old TV set. The three sat on the couch together as they watched the winter football game. The brothers smirked at each other and Dean pulled Riley to his chest as he drank his eggnog.

In the silence, all that was left was the whistle of the referee and the voice of the announcer.

As Dean kissed the top of Riley’s head, he inhaled her scent and laced his fingers with hers.

Their night was perfect, and whatever would happen tomorrow, would be tomorrow. All that mattered was being with Sam and Riley. That night was all Dean needed to find the strength to keep going. He knew that all he would ever need was his family.

So, for the first time in eight months, Dean relaxed and felt contentment run through him. If there was a heaven, Dean was sure that it was what he had at that moment. And if Hell was what awaited him, that memory would be enough to keep his spirit alive.

Outside, snow began to gently fall to the ground. With all right once again on that Michigan night, there would be a white Christmas. It fluttered softly onto the Impala as lights twinkled in the shine of her hood.

And through the window, sat the three hunters, lost in what would become one of their favorite memories.

------

S3 Chapter 8: Dream a Little Dream of Me

Let me know if you would like to be subscribed to all things Wayward Hearts :)

Wayward Hearts Tag List: @coffee-obsessed-writer @waywardmoeyy @00slayer @adoptdontshoppets @crystallstaircase @salt-n-burn-em-all @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @becs-bunker @squirrelnotsam @fandommaniacx @death-unbecomes-you @themoonandotherslikeit @son-ova-bitch @huntersociopathavenger @flamencodiva @aaspiringhero @gemini0410 @love-nakamura @klinenovakwinchester @cemmia @mirandaaustin93 @paintballkid711 @da5haexowin @a-manduhhhhh @samanddeanaremybbyboys @winchestergirl82 @spnbaby-67 @sandycub @bunnybaby121115 @erins-culinary-service @lauravic @moonxdance @knights0fkylo @panicatthewestwing @moonxdance @rainflowermoon

48 notes · View notes

starspangledbanner27 · 5 years

Photo

**CHAPTER UPDATE - Chapter 2 posted**

Fandom: Saving Mr. Banks (AU)

Description: AU take on the movie, exploring what might have happened if the author of the Mary Poppins books had been someone very different from P. L. Travers. For Carrie Schultz, the chance to collaborate with Walt Disney Studios to bring Mary Poppins from the page to the screen is a dream come true. However, matters grow complicated when animated penguins prove to be a point of contention, a friendly working relationship turns into more than she bargained for, and Carrie struggles to prevent Walt’s team from discovering her own hidden afflictions.

Characters: Carolina “Carrie” Schultz (OC), Don DaGradi, Walt Disney, Richard M. Sherman, Robert B. Sherman, Ralph

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Romance

Language: English

Read on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, or below.

Many thanks to my friends who read Chapter 1 and messaged me to comment on it, and a special thank-you to LexLemon on AO3 for leaving kudos! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying the story so far. Can’t wait to hear your thoughts on Chapter 2! :)

Also, I am planning to post my other Saving Mr. Banks fanfic sometime this week, so keep an eye out for that if you’re interested.

Chapter 2

We arrived at the airport in plenty of time—with no car trouble, despite Sam’s worrying. “Well, it never hurts to double-check!” she retorted when I teased her about it.

During the weeks I’d been waiting for this, the time had seemed to crawl; now, everything was happening all at once. We checked my luggage; we reached the gate; and finally, the only thing left was to say our goodbyes.

James was first, simply because he was easier. “Good luck, Carrie,” he said, giving me a brief hug.

“Thanks,” I replied. “Take good care of Sam for me.”

He nodded. “You bet.” And with that, he strolled over to look at a newspaper stand so my sister and I could talk.

Sam took my hands in hers and held my gaze for several moments. “Well,” she said at last, “you ready for this?”

I drew a deep breath. “About as ready as I can be.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay.”

I could tell she was fighting back tears, so I reached out and laid my hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to be fine, Sam. You know that, right?” She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again and shook her head as the flood spilled over. “Oh, Samantha,” I murmured as I wrapped my arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Carrie,” she sobbed, holding me tightly. “I wanted to be strong for you, but I’m just so scared!”

“Of what, Sam?”

“Well, it's just . . . what if—oh, I don’t even want to say it! What if . . . what if something happens while you’re out there? What if you never . . .” she trailed off, sobbing uncontrollably.

I bit my lower lip to hold back my own tears as I rubbed her back gently. “That’s not going to happen,” I declared, as much for my own sake as for hers. I would not let her know the truth—that the fears she had just voiced were the very same ones that had been whirling through my head ever since the plans for this trip had been finalized.

At last, having regained her composure, she pulled away and held me at arm’s length. “If anything does happen, you let me know, and I’ll come right away. You won’t be alone. And I’ll call and check on you every day, just like I promised, remember?”

I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

Her eyes probed mine. “You know, Carrie, if you don't feel up to this, there's still time to change your mind. We can go back home and call your agent—tell her to let Disney know it's not going to work.”

“No,” I said firmly. “No, I want to do this. I know I’ll regret it if I don’t.”

“All right then,” she said. “I’ll be thinking of you. I know you’ll have a great time.”

I smiled. “You’ll call me?”

“Every night. Just remember to give us a call when you get to your hotel and let me know you arrived.”

“I will, for sure.”

Just then, the P.A. system crackled, and a man’s voice spoke through it. “Attention, passengers. We are now boarding Flight 327A to Los Angeles. Please proceed to the gate and have your boarding pass ready. Thank you.”

I turned back to Sam. “Well, I guess it’s time to go.”

She squeezed my hands tightly. “Have a good trip, Carrie. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” I hugged her one last time. “Thank you for everything.”

“I’m so proud of you, little sis,” she whispered in my ear. Then she pulled away once more. “Now, go get ’em!”

Too emotional to speak, I simply nodded, smiling, and squeezed her hands one last time before hurrying off to get in line. In no time at all, I had reached the counter, my pass was checked, and I was just about to board the plane when I heard Sam call my name.

“Carrie!”

I turned around to see her standing with James. “I love you!” she said.

A lump formed in my throat, and I gulped it down with difficulty before replying. “Love you too!”

“We’ll be waving as you take off!” she called. I nodded, and then quickly turned away and boarded the plane before she could glimpse the tears in my eyes.

Once inside, I somehow managed to jam my carry-on bag into the overhead compartment before flopping down with a sigh into my assigned seat, allowing my eyes to drift shut as I waited for all the hustle and bustle to cease. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was really only several minutes, the aisles cleared, the other passengers settled into their seats, and the stewardess announced that we would be taking off soon. A moment later, I felt the plane start to move; and I sat up a little straighter in my seat, gazing out the window as we taxied away from the gate.

When we reached the runway, there was a long, pregnant pause as we waited for our turn to depart. Then, at last, I heard the pilot’s voice through the loudspeaker:“Ladies and gentlemen, we are cleared for takeoff”—and with that, the plane began rolling forward again. My heart pounded as I watched the ground rush past beneath us, faster and faster by the second—until, with a mighty roar of the engines, we lifted off, leaving ground and gravity behind altogether.

“Well, this is it,” I murmured to myself. “No turning back now.”

~~~~~~

Sunday, April 2nd, 1961

Dear Sam,

In the time-honored tradition of air travelers everywhere who suffer from lack of amusement, I am taking this opportunity to describe for you the details of my flight.

We’ve had a smooth ride so far. I spent the first few minutes after takeoff gazing around the interior of the plane. Blue carpet in the aisle, blue plush seats, smiling stewardess in a blue starched skirt and jacket—that’s about all there is to notice in here. But the view from the window . . . oh, Sam, it’s positively magical! You know how people talk of the horizon—where the land meets the sky—and of what lies beyond it. But do you know that the sky has a horizon of its own? I am looking at it right now—a subtle yet captivating line off in the distance, where the sky above meets the sky below. What lies beyond this horizon must surely be a land too glorious for mere mortals to inhabit. I call it sky; but in truth, it is no sky, not really. Rather, it is a sea—a sea of cool, clear blue and soft, misty white, all bathed in the golden glow of the sun. Do you think Heaven is like this? I imagine it must be.

Up here above the clouds, where the sun is bright and the air is clear, my imagination runs free, and nothing seems quite impossible. I confess that as I look out my window, I half expect to see Mary Poppins herself perched regally on a cloud puff with her talking umbrella and bottomless carpetbag beside her. Do you suppose that if she saw me, she would condescend to wave hello, or would she be too busy admiring herself in her hand-mirror?

I'm running out of room now; but before I finish, I want to say once more that I love you, dear sister, and I miss you already. By the time this letter reaches you, I will probably have been in Los Angeles for a few days, and will be missing you even more. I know you’ll be thinking of me; but I hope you will not waste any time worrying about me. Instead, enjoy your time alone with James, and take this opportunity to care for yourself and look after your own needs for a change. I know I'll be having fun in L.A., and you should be having fun, too—because nothing can keep the Schultz sisters down.

Well, that’s all for now! I’ll see you again very soon. Till then, I am

Your little sis forever,

Carrie

P.S. I hope you made it back from the airport without any car trouble.

Sunday, April 2nd, 1961

Dear James,

I hope that by the time this reaches you, things are going well back home. I’ve already written a letter to Sam, but I also wanted to write one specifically to you, because, as Sam’s sister, there is something I must speak to you about.

When I left this morning, you promised me that you would take good care of Sam; and I know you would have even if I hadn’t told you to. But there is another, more specific, thing that I wish to ask of you, which is this: don’t let her worry too much about me while I’m gone. If she does worry, then listen to her and comfort her as you always do; but make sure she enjoys herself as well.

The two of you now have the house all to yourselves for a while, so take this time to romance her and make her feel special. I can’t help noticing that over the past year, Sam has too often allowed her own needs to go unmet in favor of mine. I know she would never admit it, but she has been much more exhausted lately than I’ve ever seen her before; yet she will not let herself rest from taking care of me. Now that I’m gone, though, she needs someone to look after her for a change—to attend to her needs, listen to her concerns, and lavish her with the attention she so deserves. You already do all those things, but I ask that you use these three weeks to give her an extra dose of love. And, that being said, I know you need no further encouragement; so I guess all that's left now is to say thank you. I know my sister is safe in your hands, and that knowledge is a more precious gift than you can imagine. Thank you so much.

Your sister-in-law,

Carrie

Too tired to write any more, I tucked the letters into my purse, then glanced around the plane at the other passengers. Some, like I had been a minute ago, were writing letters to family and friends, or notes on the postcards the stewardess had handed out earlier. Others were chatting with their seatmates; and a few, as evidenced by the raucous laughter from towards the back, were apparently taking full advantage of the free beverage services available during the flight.

My own seatmate, a middle-aged, pot-bellied man, had fallen asleep about ten minutes after we left the ground; and the only sound I'd heard from him before that had been a curt grunt of acknowledgement as he sat down next to me. Could be worse, I mused. At least he’s not smoking. Neither was anyone else, for that matter—an uncommon circumstance for which I was grateful. In a condition like mine, I hated to think what even one whiff of secondhand smoke might do.

At last, after I had people-watched for several minutes, my exhaustion overcame me. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, listening to the friendly conversations taking place all around and the quiet hum of the airplane, sounding like a summer breeze.

~~~~~

I am sitting on a bench in the garden—a pencil in my hand, my notebook on my lap, my eyes closed, and my face turned upward, smiling slightly as a breeze plays through my hair—when suddenly two hands grab my shoulders, and a voice comes from right behind my ear. “Boo!”

“EEK!” I jump out of my chair and whirl around in one swift motion, dropping my notebook and pencil in the grass. “Sam! You scared me half to death!” She stands there grinning, unfazed. I place my hands on my hips. “Don't look so satisfied with yourself, Samantha.” She wriggles her eyebrows. I raise my index finger and advance threateningly towards her. “I'm warning you!”

“Oh, really?” She waits with a mischievous smirk as I approach; then, when I’m just a few steps away, she shoots her hands out and tickles me in the ribs, rendering me helpless with laughter.

“Sam—haha—Sam—stop!” I gasp between giggles. She pulls away and takes off running across the yard. Laughing, I chase after her. “All right, now you’re in for it!”

“Gotta catch me first!” she teases, glancing back over her shoulder.

“Oh, you better believe I will!”

She rounds the corner of the house with me in hot pursuit. My legs and arms are pumping wildly and my breathing has quickened to compensate, when suddenly a sharp pain springs forth in my lungs, and I am seized by a paroxysm of coughing unlike any I’ve ever experienced before. My legs go weak, and I collapse in a heap on the grass, chest convulsing out of control.

“Carrie!” In an instant, Sam is kneeling on the ground beside me. “Carrie, are you okay?”

“Can’t—stop—coughing,” I choke out.

“Okay. Okay. Just take deep breaths for me. Try to relax. You’re all right.” She rubs my back gently.

I strain against the coughs, trying with all my might to repress them. Every breath I draw feels like a knife being thrust through my ribs; but if I stop breathing, then my body screams for oxygen. All the while, I hear Sam’s voice beside me—“It’s okay, Carrie; I'm here. Deep breaths.” But the coughing will not stop. There is no way to end it, no way out, no escape. I writhe helplessly in the grass, begging God to make it stop . . . and then, all of a sudden, I look up to find everything changed—I am alone in a large, dark room, and my sister has vanished. In a panic, I attempt to cry out for her, but my voice will not come; meanwhile, I notice for the first time that the floor has detached from the wall and is rocking back and forth, back and forth. The entire room seems to spin—or maybe it’s just my own head—and a strange whooshing sound fills my ears. Still coughing, I struggle to maintain my grip as the floor tilts precariously beneath me. The walls by now have dissolved into amorphous blotches of dull color that swim and blend and fade in turn. I cough and cough . . . the blotches dilate and contract . . . the floor’s tilt grows steeper and steeper . . . until at last I can hold on no longer, and I roll off the edge into nothingness—falling . . . falling . . .

DING! I was jolted awake by a loud chime, soon followed by the captain’s voice over the intercom:“Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our descent into Los Angeles.” I blinkedgroggily as his words registered in my slumber-fogged brain. Had I really just slept through most of the flight? Sure enough, I looked over to see the stewardess making her way down the aisle, checking to see that all passengers had fastened their seat belts for landing.

I yawned and stretched slightly before glancing out the window just in time to glimpse the city of Los Angeles, and the Pacific Ocean beside it, spread out beneath us as our plane banked to the left. Something about the tilt of the plane tugged at the edge of my mind, and then I remembered—the dream. The coughing, the floor rocking beneath me. I shook my head with a sigh of frustration, but I could not shake the memories that insisted on resurfacing . . . so I resigned myself to staring blankly out the window as my mind replayed everything that had occurred that day in the garden.

Laughing, I chase Sam across the yard. “All right, now you're in for it!”

“Gotta catch me first!”

“Oh, you better believe I will!”

But just as I round the corner of the house, a sharp chest pain and a wild fit of coughing bring me to the ground in a heap. Sam rushes to my side. “Carrie, are you okay?”

“Can't—stop—coughing!”

“Okay. Okay. Just take deep breaths for me. Try to relax. You're all right.”

At last, after several minutes, the coughs subside, leaving me drained of energy. “What happened, Carrie?” Sam asks with concern.

I shake my head. “I don't know. I just started coughing all of a sudden, and then it wouldn't stop.”

“Maybe you inhaled a speck of pollen or something. Are you all right now?”

“I think so; I just feel a little weak.”

“Want to go inside and rest?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I want to stay out here and keep working.”

“Okay. Here, let me help you up.” She extends her hand, and I take it, letting her pull me to my feet.

I cast a mischievous glance at her. “You know, if it weren't for that coughing fit, I definitely would have caught you.”

She smirks. “Wanna bet?”

“Well, next time for sure.” I wink.

She laughs. “We'll see about that. I'm going to head back inside.”

She walks away, and I return to my seat on the bench, retrieving my notebook and pencil from the grass. What I haven’t admitted to Sam is that the pain is still there—lodged in my chest, now more like a rock than a knife, but still unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I draw a slow, shaky breath. “Just a speck of pollen, Carrie,” I tell myself. “Nothing to worry about.”

My mind landed back in the present just as our plane came to land on the concrete. I blinked and shook my head again. Forget all that, Carrie, I told myself. You have three weeks here. Enjoy it while it lasts.

And so, for the moment, I closed the window on the past and instead began to contemplate what the coming days would hold. Heart swelling with anticipation, I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. This was real. This was happening. Please, dear God, let it go well.

Tag list… let me know if you want to be added or removed!

@iwillalwaysreturm | @writings-of-a-narwhal | @24hourshipping

#ocappreciation #ocapp #allaboutocs #my fanfics #oc: carrie schultz #fic: city of angels #saving mr banks #disney #fanfiction

13 notes · View notes