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slashjunky replied to your post: I was watching some Lip Synch Battles and found...

The full version is on youtube

i smh haven’t found it?? But I guess I’ll take another look then Thanks for pointing this out!

Free Pepper: A Boxtrolls Fanfiction

Free Pepper Chapter 9 I woke up the following morning believing that something just wasn't right. I was in bed sleeping until something cold tapped my shoulder. My eyes fluttered open and as I rubbed them, I yawned and pushed my sheets away. I sat with my back turned to the front door and stretched my limbs. "Ahem." I froze. I slowly turned around, 'eeked!', and hid under my covers. Mr. Snatcher turned on my lamp, pinched my blankets, and lifted them, revealing my face. "M-m-my alarm hasn't gone off." He glanced at the clock and watched it tick for a second or two. "Did you forget to set it?" he replied, peeling my bed sheets. "It looks like it," I muttered. He took my clock, showed me the time, and put it in my drawer. It was about 9:30 in the morning. "It was for the better. I had an errand to run so I let you sleep in. Thoughtful of me, ain't it?" I sighed in relief, smiled, and nodded a little. I watched him until he closed my drawer, fully aware that he'd seen my bag full of money and cheese. I widened my eyes when I noticed some stubble on his face. He eventually took a glance at me. "What? No good morning? No thank you?" "Oh! Good morning! Thank you for letting me sleep in." He placed his hand on my head and smiled. "And good morning to you...I wanted to wake you myself. I've got a couple of things for you." He turned around, and I wouldn't dare move. He handed me a list firstly. "You may look at this on your own time." Secondly, he gave me a long unwrapped rectangular box; a boxtroll wouldn't have worn it because it was in two pieces, the lid and the actual container, all bound by string. If anything, it looked like the kind that would hold clothing, and of that, I had a realization. "Is this for me?" I asked pointing to myself. "Open it." My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. I took the string into my fingers and tried to undo the knot. The string was thin but incredibly tight. Using my thumbs to play with it, I heard the light tapping of Mr. Snatcher's fingers, the man giving an impatient groan soon enough before he snatched the box and cut the string himself. "Here." He gave it back to me and watched me open it and I stared in silence at what I found. A blood red dress with mid-length sleeves surprised me, despite my assumption that it really was clothing. I didn't know these terms at the time, but if I did, I'd have described it as one with a jewel shaped neckline, a knee length skirt and a buttoned down back. The elbow and wrists of the sleeves, and the small subtle ruffle near the base of the skirt was a lighter, rosy red color, and the collar, low waistline, and thin, stitched in petticoat were white. The latter was slightly longer than the skirt but only by a centimeter or two, making its white fabric a little visible to the naked eye. With the dress came a pair of gray stockings, a pair of white embroidery to tighten them with, a circular blood red colored hat, short and flat like a straw hat but clearly made of felt, with that same rosy red color wrapped around the lower half of the crown in the form of a ribbon tied in a bow on the back of the hat, and finally, a blood red hair bow and black buckled shoes. I rose to my knees and wrapped my arms around his own arm and hummed with a smile. "Thank you, sir! They're all beautiful! I can't wait to wear them!" The arm I took bent in repulsion and I could tell from the curls of his fingers. His free hand took my shoulder and jerked himself from me, allowing strands of hair to fall from his face. "Of course, Pepper darling," he replied in an almost disgusted demeanor. I could tell by the way he took my shoulders and lightly pushed me back down onto the bed. I smiled at him as he took my clothing, pulled out a hanger from my closet and hung it over the rail. "The Fortunate Favorite of an Esteemed Gentleman shouldn't go without at the very least something proper to wear. I recommend looking at the list first before you putting on your apparel; don't want it getting messy. Now, if you'll excuse me: I'm off to retire for the morning, but..." He spun around rather gracefully making my shift in my spot. "It would be simply splendid if you accompanied me on a little outing today. Say, 4 o'clock?" He asked taking my hand. "An outing? You mean...we're going somewhere...other than here?" He chuckled at me making me seal my lips shut in a twinge of fear mixed with nervousness. "If you complete every task on the list, of course you may come. Nothing too difficult, even for you." Before I could say anything about that, he yawned and turned around. "I shall see you at 4, and please be ready by then. Dress and all." "I will." I nodded with a smile. ... Downstairs Only! 1. Sweep the floor 2. Mop the floor 3. Dust the furniture The list didn't sound too hard. I put on an older, brown pair of trousers and men's shirt so that I wouldn't risk ruining my new clothes. I opened the closet Mr. Pickles had shown me the day before and I mostly just stared at them. I never really did a great deal of cleaning back in London. I mostly just ran around the city looking for things to do, but I did know a few tips about the subject. I knew that sweeping came before mopping. Taking the broom and dustpan into my hands I stopped and looked at the floor first and foremost, and my heart sank. "...shoot..." I thought. I'd completely forgotten the fact that the downstairs of the factory was obviously the largest area in the entire building. How could I have overlooked that while reading that blasted list? "It's alright, Pepper. You can do this," I said to myself. I started at the corner by the closet and brushed the broom to the floor. Sweeping from left to right like a pencil on paper, I kept an eye on each little cluster of dust I found, grouping it all together into two or three piles. From corner to corner, and centimeter to centimeter, the broom searched and gathered, through the kitchen area, below the stair case, around the levers that controls the hanging cages, and anything else I could find. Amidst the sneezing and wheezing from all the dust, I couldn't stop; not until everything looked perfect. Two hours of sweeping, another two of mopping, and thankfully dusting only took one hour (at least that's how it turned out no thanks to the slippery floor). After a thirty minute inspection over everything I had cleaned, I smiled and wiped the sweat from my brow. I excitedly rushed up the steps and back to my room to clean up. ... My stomach rumbled and gave me the idea to pull out the gouda I'd started the other day. Pulling out my bag and opening it, I'd expected to see that and the money Genevieve gave me. Thinking of her made me frown. My only friend up until I'd met Leona, Bryan, Abigail, James, and Skyla, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever see her again. My Cheesebridge friends were one thing, but Genevieve was another. Opening the bag and searching around, my stomach performed a backflip. My money was gone. All of my pound notes had completely vanished. I searched frantically for it was all I could was the gouda I put to the side. I shuddered at the complete emptiness of my bag. My gift from Genevieve had been taken. My lip quivered and I put my arm to my eyes, because I could feel them grow misty with emotion. But I tried my hardest to bite them back. I figured that I didn't have much time left before I'd have to be downstairs in my brand new outfit. The gouda I'd bought beforehand still smelled and even tasted alright. The rest of that had to be my lunch as my bathtub filled up with water. I stared out the window as I nibbled my cheese; the sky was pretty cloudy for a summer day. "I hope it doesn't rain," I whispered to myself. I looked up at the clouds, smiling at an image I had in my head of a group of white clouds and a group of gray clouds colliding with each other in a great big battle. Brighter clouds hitting dimmer clouds with their swords and shields in hopes of determining whether the latter would let it rain or the former would keep the sun shining. My elbow slipped from the window sill, causing to slip back into reality. I washed myself in the bathtub, making sure that I scrubbed deep. If I was going to walk around in my special dress and shoes, I might as clean myself up. Feeling fresh in a new pair of jockey shorts I found in another drawer, I pinched the dress by its shoulders and looked at it. It felt soft, making me hug it tightly. Traveling between London and Cheesebridge and I felt a little excited at finally having my very own special outfit. After tying my hair in a low ponytail, I pulled the stockings over my legs, fastening them right below my shorts (if the ladies in London could do it, surely I could), unbuttoned the dress and slipped it over me. Fitting my arms through the sleeves, I fastened every button and pulled my long hair out from under the dress. The last thing to add was my hat: my Red Hat. I shuddered from realization, but there was no use in complaining. Mr. Snatcher never did seem like the kind of man who tolerated complainers. I stood before the mirror and stared. I alternated from smiles to frowns. On one hand, I felt beautiful. "If the girls back home could see me now," I thought. But on the other hand, as I've said a few times before: why did it have to be Archibald Snatcher? The dress fitted me pretty well and the flowing skirt made me twirl around, and I felt as if I was flying through the air, with the snobs I'd seen in both towns far below me. But in my fantasy, I could see red tinted clouds forming into a lightening storm. Whenever I would remind myself that it was him who made this possible, it was like a deadly strike that would burn me up and pull me to the ground. But I couldn't stay up in the sky for very long. I pulled my clock out of my drawer and looked at it. It was almost a quarter to four. I looked at my bedroom door and warily turned the knob. ... I looked out one of the windows while I waited for him downstairs. The sky was still a little overcast but I wasn't too worried about that anymore. I was far too focused on the outing I was about to go on, and of course it had to be with him. Questions ran through my head about where we would go and what we would do. Clack, clack, clack But I didn't have time to guess. I turned around at the sound of footsteps, and stood up straight and tall. "Good afternoon, sir." "And good afternoon to you as well," he said this in an almost bewildered tone; the kind a man might give to an exceptionally lovely woman. Within a minute of seeing him, I noticed something a little different about him. "Why are you carrying a stick?" I asked. Mr. Snatcher came down the stairs with one hand on the rail and a walking cane in the other. I'd seen men in London walk with them, and even then I would wonder why they would carry them if they had no obvious walking problems. The cane was long and silver, but the knob itself was shaped like triangular piece of golden cheese. "I'll have you know, child, that this is a family heirloom. This walking cane has been in my family since the days of Aloysius Snatcher! Perfect for running errands before work." "But what's it for, sir?" He looked at me as if I was ignorant. "Didn't you ever see men walk about with their own canes in London?" "Well, yes, but I always thought they just had problems walking." "Some do, but I certainly don't," he replied with a scoff and a hand gesture pressing lightly to his vest. "For those esteemed few such as myself, it sets us apart from our peers. An indicator of gentlemanly behavior." "Do you ever use it for work?" His eyebrow twitched. "Pepper, did you not hear me? I use it for errands!" He jabbed the knob into my chest as he said that last word. "Ow!" "I wouldn't dream of risking the loss of this precious item to a horde of disgusting monsters! For God's sake, girl, pay attention!" "...S-sorry..." Mr. Snatcher had given me an ugly look while I rubbed my chest and swiped at my dress, making sure it was still devoid of any dust. He tapped his finger to his lip, probably thinking. "And while you're at it, spin around," he said twirling his cane about. I closed my eyes and turned quickly. "Not too fast, you daft girl. Just enough to let me look at you." I turned much more slowly and nibbled on my lip. "Don't ruin this," I thought to myself. "How do I look?" I asked curiously. "Hmm...proper," he bluntly stated with a grin. "You can go anywhere now. You have me to thank for that." "Yes, thank you." I smiled but not at him. My head was pointing downward as I showed him my appearance. "Alright, alright, stop turning," he said in an annoyed tone. "Y-yes, of course," I practically jumped up straight and tall and fixed my dress just in case. He walked past me and pulled out the ring of keys. I could feel chills of excitement as he unlocked the door. I approached him but before I could say or do anything else, he spun around and put his palm to my chest. "Don't move." He turned back around and turned the key in its lock. His pushed open the door and stepped out. Once his feet were planted firmly outside and he beckoned me with his finger, a little spark of excitement charged me right outside into the fresh air. The warmth of summer made me exhale a great deal of air and turn my head all around to look at the river on my right and the town on my left. The buzz of the summer bugs and light breeze on my face made me look up at the sky, hold my hat so that it wouldn't fall as I tilted my head to reach for it. I vocalized my happiness in seeing this missed picture of nature I wanted so badly to return to just the other day, completely forgetting that I wasn't alone. When the sight of the hills surrounding Cheesebridge caught my attention, I had a feeling about what I truly wanted to do. "Wow..." I whispered. "Now's your chance." I heard myself say in my head. "Run as fast as you can. Don't look back. If he catches you, you will never be free." "You must be very excited." My smile quickly disappeared and I turned around to see Mr. Snatcher tucking the keys away into an inner pocket in front of a presumedly locked door. I blushed a little in embarrassment. "I like being outside, sir. I miss it." Mr. Snatcher took my hand and pulled me aside so that he can bend over to straighten my hat, which had fallen crooked from all the excitement. "Well, if you behave, you just might have another opportunity." "Really?!" I asked, with an almost uncontrollable jump. "Yes, yes, now calm down," he replied grasping my shoulders tightly enough to put my back against the wall. "I-I can be calm..." I replied in a softer voice, blushing up. "Are you completely under control?" He asked seriously. I quickly nodded. Mr. Snatcher pulled out his watch and clicked it open. "Then, we must be off." He took my hand, held it tightly and we both walked away into town. "Now my dear Pepper, if you're going to behave like a civilized girl, we must establish some rules for our little outings. For one, you shall always remain by my side. You know how I feel about you running off." His grip tightened. "For two, while I take your hand as we walk, you shall keep your other hand to yourself. This applies to all circumstances unless I allow it. For three, when speaking to other members of our society, you shall be pleasant and respectful, using 'sir' to men as you do with me, and 'Ma'am' or 'Miss' towards women, as I'd done with you. And please no raising of the voice or foul language. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mr. Snatcher," I replied. I unexpectedly squeaked when he took my cheek and made my face look at his own. "And let's keep the details of your time with me to ourselves, shall we? Out in public is no place for discussing such personal matters. And well behaved ladies wouldn't dream of breaking any of these rules, lest they be regarded as 'pests' by certain individuals and be treated as such." He showed me his ring of keys, forcing me to swallow a lump in my throat, and nod. So in other words, don't walk away from Mr. Snatcher, don't touch a thing, be polite, and don't talk about being taken and caged. "Yes, sir." His demeanor made me feel as though these tasks were impossible. One little mistake and it could be back to the cage, because apparently that's where uncivilized pests belonged. As Curd's Way turned into Milk Street, I could feel butterflies flutter inside my stomach. I hadn't been in town very long by this point, and I could feel a growing sense of self-consciousness at the idea of people seeing me. At first, I couldn't wait to show people how pretty I looked in the clothes I'd always wanted, but now that some would surely see, the idea of Mr. Snatcher walking beside me and keeping a tight hand on me made me blush. What would these snobby folks think? It was hard to tell. Walking up Milk Street made me heave up and down from a lack of experience treading a hill as steep of Cheesebridge. London was flat and smelled like fish. This town was elevated and smelled like cheese. Opposites, if I'd ever seen them. But I wouldn't dare say a word about it. Mr. Snatcher didn't seem as though he even wanted to talk. He appeared to be in a happy enough mood when we came across a couple walking by. A middle class looking woman with her arm linked around a man was given a 'good afternoon' by Mr. Snatcher. The couple, who looked kindly enough, almost immediately noticed me. I waved to them and though they waved back, they looked confuse, if not a little shocked; not that I blamed them or anything His cane made a 'tapping' sound as it touched the ground with each step he took. With his fancy, family owned accessory, his rings, tall hat, and velvet coat topped with a fur collar, I'd never seen a more impressive looking man, and I felt very intimidated. I looked up at him as we walked and analyzed his fallen strands of hair. If those had been pulled back as well and his stubble removed, he would've looked even more impressive, but then there was that air about him; the one I'd always felt about him and consumed me with dread. Dignified and gentlemanly on top but downright scary underneath it all. He looked down at me, making me throw my head down, my self conscious blush still on my cheeks. "It's not polite to stare," he drawled. "I know. I'm sorry." He sighed almost in an almost pitiful 'you silly girl' sort of way. "You say that word so often." "What word, sir?" "'Sorry'. 'I'm sorry' this. 'I'm sorry' that. It's become annoying and repetitive. Sometimes a 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir' is all that needs to be said." "Oh, I see. I'm so-oh! I mean, yes, sir." He rolled his eyes. "How do I know when to say 'sorry'?" "I shall make it evident for you. You still have a lot to learn about good behavior." "I'm trying as hard as I can, sir." "Well, don't try too hard. I don't want to hear complaining over a headache..." He looked back forward, at which I looked down, sporting a glare at him. "I saw that." I went wide eyed and slapped my hands to my face, covering it in embarrassment. I heard him chuckle but I dared not react to it. "...Ahh, here we are!" Before I could answer my own question, I looked up to find that we'd arrived at a shop. At the front door was stood a long cylinder spiraling red, white, and blue. "A barber shop?" I asked him. "I had an appointment today, and I certainly wasn't about to leave you at the factory alone. Come home to find you wandering about my factory poking your nose into my personal business? Goodness no." I offendedly looked away from him and followed him inside. If he insulted me one more time... ...oh wait. I can't do anything, can I? "Pepper?" A different voice made my stomach do a backflip. Mr. Snatcher had approached a man who was inside the shop, the barber I assumed, and I turned around almost sporadically. The voice sounded high pitch, yet male, as if coming from a very young boy. And lo and behold, upon turning, who did I find but the handsome redhead James Goudman, standing on the opposite side of the street all by himself, looking more surprised than anything else? I hurried to the entrance of the barber shop, beaming at him and embracing the good kind of butterflies inside me because Mr. Snatcher never said I couldn't wave. Standing on the tips of my toes, I straightened my dress, hat, and stockings, and waved left and right, making it big and joyful-looking on purpose. "Pepper, what happened to you?" I pulled down my dress in modesty as my blush turned into that of flattery. I even twirled to give him a full view of my look. He didn't seem to notice that; his face still spelled bewilderment, by I didn't care. My heart fluttered at just his presence alone. "Where'd you get the..." He had put his hands to his mouth to increase his volume but his hands dropped and his face turned fearful. His frightened look confused me. I wanted to ask what the matter was, but then I remembered that I couldn't raise my voice. He backed away into the shop right behind him, and though I reached out my hand, longing to say something, someone spoke for me. "You go on home, boy. She hasn't the time to chat with you. Go on! Go!" James ran down the sidewalk and I stared hopelessly until he vanished from view. My cheeks reddened in anger, but I couldn't let him see it. He almost crushed my wrist in his hand when he pulled me back into the barber shop. Though his face looked pleasant, his tightening grip made me wince in pain. "I'm awfully sorry about that, Mr. Crabs. When she's not being shy, she's being quite absent minded," Mr. Snatcher explained to a tall man with a large nose and ears. This man with his larger facial features was somewhere in the middle between Mr. Pickles and Mr. Snatcher; Not as lean as the former, but certainly nowhere near as thick as the latter. "Oh, so she is yours?" Unfortunately. "Why yes, she is! I found the poor thing living inside a barrel of all places the other night. All alone, no place to go, hungry, tired, vulnerable to those box pests: she was a sad little sight. As most are aware, it would've been against my ethics to leave such an innocent child at the mercy of monsters," he explained grandly, the knob of his cane pointing to his torso to emphasize. "...so I felt it was my personal responsibility to take her in, and raise her properly; help her become someone of value. All it took were some negotiations. Mr. Crabs, meet Miss Pepper Snatcher." "I see. Well, that is just wonderful, sir!" I pondered over this man's strangely cheerful nature. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Snatcher!" The barber replied offering his hand. I reluctantly took it, and he kissed it, leaving me a little surprised. "Hello, Mr. Crabs sir, " I replied courteously. It was a little hard to, no thanks to the shaking at my knees. "So you're a family man now, sir? You've never seemed like the type," Mr. Crabs asked as they walked down the hallway together, with me close behind. "Beforehand, no. But these are desperate times for certain individuals, sir," Mr. Snatcher replied placing his hand on the top of my head, and glancing at me. I smiled nervously but I doubted that he believed it. "Desperate measures are called for, so I've been told. Besides, the young lady makes a wonderful companion." "I do?" I asked aloud. He looked at me as if saying 'play along or else' and I nodded. "I-I do! Thank you, Mr. Snatcher." Mr. Crabs looked back at me, causing Mr. Snatcher to touch me with the end tip of his cane. "And you're still on last name terms, Miss?" The three of us eventually made it to a spacious room where there sat a barber's chair with a stand holding a tray of what I assumed were barber supplies. The room had a vast window and a spare set of chairs in front of it. I opened my mouth to say something. "Oh-ho, you must forgive her, my friend," Mr. Snatcher interjected. My mouth closed in disappointment. "The dear child is still readjusting to her new life as a fortunate young lady. Precious girl had no last name before we met. But I soon remedied that." Before sitting down, he took my shoulder, grabbing my attention and showed me his cane again. "Hold onto it for me while I shave, will you?" I reached for it, but he held it back. "And try not to break it," he said with a hint of a threat. "Oh no, sir." He took my hands and positioned them on the stick itself, turned me around, and subtly pushed me away, as he took his place in the chair. "You're welcomed to have a seat in the chairs, Miss Snatcher. This might be awhile." "Thank you." Mr. Snatcher waved me away, causing Mr. Crabs to turn and begin work. "The usual, sir?" "Yes, clean shaven, but only shorten the sides. I've grown fond of them but keep them for too long and I'll start to look ill kept." "Of course, sir. Understandable." As I sat in the chair, I watched Mr. Crabs mix a shaving brush into a tiny container, creating a lather inside it. After he started brushing the lather onto Mr. Snatcher's face, I rested my head on the palm of my hand and sighed, while my eyes traveled to the wooden floor. "Sit up straight and tall, Pepper. Don't be a slob," he said. My head lifted as he spoke with that usual judgmental look on his face. Sitting up straight, I focused my attention back on the clouds. "Umm, may I turn the chair around and look outside?" "I suppose so," he replied, keeping still while Mr. Crabs shaved his face. One might think that watching a barber shave the face of Mr. Snatcher of all people would at least be a little interesting, but to me, it felt like a void of boredom except for the sounds of a blade running up and down the man's face. There was no music, no color in the room, and no conversation starters for me. It was mostly just Mr. Crabs saying 'yes' and 'of course' to Mr. Snatcher's ramblings about work and the people he didn't like. I turned my head towards the window with his cane still in my hands, and now resting on my lap. I looked down and watched some of the townsfolk pass by. A variety of people ranging in ages and assumedly classes based on their appearances alone made the town seem much more alive, and I smiled at the idea of being one of them. I recollected a thought I'd had the other day about leaving Cheesebridge and coming back a grown woman, unrecognizable by the Red Hats. Grown into grace and beauty, I imagined being greeted in gentlemanly and ladylike ways by all who met me. I would reintroduce myself as someone different than who I was at that moment. Not 'Pepper Snatcher' but a new Pepper, a stunning Pepper who could make friends with anyone I wanted to; picnics in the daytime and parties in the nighttime (if the Boxtrolls are gone by then of course). I sighed at my fantasy. But then I frowned because that's what it was: a fantasy. The reality of the matter was that I was Pepper Snatcher, not of my choosing but of the choosing of a man, whose demeaning comments were making me feel worse and worse with each new word spoken. The thought of it put a scowl on my face. Just because Mr. Snatcher was an important member of this society didn't mean that he had the right to belittle me...right? I turned back to Mr. Snatcher, his face now clean and smooth, and Mr. Crabs. The latter was delicately snipping Mr. Snatcher's sideburns with a silver pair scissors, careful so as to avoid making a mistake. With a sweep of the shoulders from a brush different from the lathering tool from before, Mr. Crabs held up a mirror for Mr. Snatcher to look at his work. "Satisfactory, sir?" "Hmm...as usual." He gave Mr. Crabs two silver coins and stood up from the chair. Brushing his shoulders and pushing his hair behind his ear with his hands, we made eye contact. "Come, Pepper. We're leaving."

#the Boxtrolls #free pepper #fanfiction #archibald snatcher #slashjunky #pepper

Free Pepper: A Boxtrolls Fanfiction

Free Pepper Chapter 8 "Have a safe night, sir." I had wiped my eyes of my tears a little while ago so that I could come back downstairs and see the Red Hats off, by Mr. Snatcher's request. We had sit down for supper again and I didn't really say much. I mostly just let him talk about how many trolls he thought he might catch. According to him, just one troll caught made a night on the town a good night. Afterwards we walked to the entrance and while Mr. Gristle, Mr. Pickles, and Mr. Trout went outside to start the truck and take their places, Mr. Snatcher and I just stayed at the door. "I'm sure we shall. We will be quite busy tonight, but that's nothing unusual, so be a dear, and clear off the table, will you?" He didn't really look at me, as he was too busy fastening his jacket and straightening his crooked red hat. "Oh, of course," I replied looking back at the table. He patted my head and like last time, it felt awfully awkward. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow morning at sunrise. There should be a clock in your room, so please use it to get up in the morning." "Yes, sir." I watched him leave and lock the door behind him, and I followed him the best way I knew how. I found a nearby window and watched him climb up into his chair on top. With Mr. Trout in the driver's seat, Mr. Snatcher took his usual pot of tea and poured some of it into his cup. I remembered seeing Mr. Trout prepare it for him while Mr. Snatcher and I were eating at the table and talking a little while ago. The engine started and soon enough, off they went into the night. "Hear ye! Hear ye!" ... Today's supper was simple: two modest bowls of beef stew. I tried to reach the sink, but I was far too short, so I had a thought to push one of the chairs from the table towards the it to effectively wash the bowls. Approaching the table, I stared at the lovely Boss Chair. I looked left, and then I looked right. He wasn't around; no one was around, so I touched it. There was little wonder why he liked such a chair. Its texture was smooth, yet rigid from the designs, and the cushions were soft and left a hand shaped imprint when I pressed one of mine into it. I took the legs and pushed it towards the sink, not really thinking much of it. Brushing my legs and feet of any dust, I sat on my knees on the Boss Chair and washed the bowls and spoons. After brushing the table of fallen food and running a sponge up and down the round surface, I stepped back and took a look at the entire area. Everything looked clean and alright; at least it was how I'd found it before Mr. Snatcher had asked Mr. Pickles to show me how to make it, while he and Mr. Gristle sat at the table and spoke, and from the former's gestures, it was probably about me again. I yawned. It had been such an odd day, but then again I shouldn't have been too surprised. This was my first official day of being in the care of a much older man who always looked as though he could kill me if I made too dreadful a mistake. Perfect... Remembering that I'd taken a bath earlier, I changed into a long men's night shirt I'd found inside one of the drawers of the bed table, as well as the clock Mr. Snatcher spoke of. Thankfully all the girls at my orphanage knew how to set these, for we too had to be up and awake in the morning. None of this 'sleeping in' nonsense. I set it for 6 AM just to be completely sure. The sun wouldn't be quite out at this time, so surely I'd have a little time to get up, brush my hair, and find something else to wear. I slid into the sheets and shuddered at the lack of heat. I laid there for awhile, probably longer than I should have. Mr. Snatcher filled my head like water into a cup. But then again, this was becoming common. I could've cried, but those tears had fallen and were long over with. I guess I couldn't help but think of that story. The Portley-Rinds and the Snatchers: the first families, working together, but not for long. I guess Bryan had never heard that part. But then again, who better to tell it than the man it all personally affects. Had my friends ever lost a someone they had known for so long and be left behind by them? Had they ever been robbed of something they'd worked so hard for? And by someone they thought of as a neighbor, if nothing else? My eyes grew heavy, so any answers I could've tried to give myself never came. ... My breaths were short towards the table and the Boss Chair. Though the entire factory's lights were on, the windows were a deep blue from the sun rising to brighten the darkened world outside. I was still in my night shirt, and my hair was in a mess of tangles. I nibbled my lip at the sky's dark hues growing lighter within seconds. "If Mr. Snatcher finds me like this, who knows what he'll think!" I gasped. "He'll think I'm disrespecting him and lock me up for a hundred years!" I spun around furiously, my eyes pulsating and searching for the stairs. The moment I saw them made me sprint up those steps like a bat out of hell. Each step made my heart pump and my brow sweat from the pressure of climbing up each one. I couldn't let him find me under dressed, but there was no not meeting him at the front door at sunrise like he asked either. I'll just brush my hair a little, slip something on and that'll be it. The top stair was within eye sight and a flicker of excitement turned on within me. I can make it! The hallway right by me revealed a certain shape that stopped me: Mr. Snatcher's leg. Stepping onto the floor of the stairwell, he appeared before me and I couldn't move a single muscle. There he was looking down at me with the sickest grin I'd ever seen. I couldn't even say a word to him, because I knew I was done for. He walked down and with each step, a look of horror creased onto my face and my hands were raised in defense. But that didn't stop him. He took my wrist and I closed my eyes tightly. And all around me I could feel the bars and flat metallic surface. ... My eyes opened again, and I was confined only by blankets and my pillow again. I searched all around me and sighed in relief. I groggily sat up and looked at my clock. I had about five hours to go. "Grr..." I put the clock back on the table and hid myself inside my sheets in a huff. "Hmpf!...stupid clock..." ... RING! RING! RING! "I'm up! I'm up! Don't kill me!" I shot up like a bullet out of a gun. The blackness around me was dark blue once again, so I flipped over my sheets and stared out the window. If the sky looked deep blue, then the sun would be here soon enough, and I'll need to be downstairs. I pulled out light gray shirt and trousers, brushed my hair, freshened up my face, and dressed up. Even after brushing my hair I still felt a little messy no thanks to my unruly hair. "Maybe if I'm extra good, he'll let me get some hair ties." But for now, my ill-kept hair and boys' clothing was as good as it was going to get. I made my bed up quickly, hurried down the hallways, and flew down the stairs, my hands promptly readjusting my appearance towards any flaw I found, even the smallest ones. Hurrying to the kitchen area, I gasped! The Boss Chair was still by the sink, and thankfully it still looked as clean as it had been when Mr. Snatcher left. Shuddering loudly, I scurried to the chair and pushed it as hard as I could back to its original place. "Pepper!" "Oh no, he's home." I bit my lip at the stress welling up within me. I swiped the dust off and took a deep breath, but then I coughed repeatedly at stupidly breathing in the dust. "Good Lord, child, are you alright?" I turned around and nervously stood straight and tall. Even as my head turned light and dizzy, I still walked up to him and smiled as sincerely as possible. "Welcome home, sir!" I replied among the coughs. Mr. Snatcher met me with an unimpressed frown and an even more hunched over frame. His clacking footsteps were long and sinister, and I could practically feel it in me that something was dreadfully wrong. I warily walked over and stood before him as his stone gray eyes frightened me the more I looked at them. "Mr. Snatcher, what's the matter?" I looked at his hand; the one with the three rings. I tried to take it, scared as I was, but he held it up and away from me. "Were you touching my chair?" "I-I-I was dusting it for you. F-F-For when you got back. I-I'm sure you're tired." "Hmm..." Giving me a snobby look, he took my shoulder after a few seconds of staring, and pushed me away. I promptly stepped back and watched him open a couple of cabinets, pull out a wine glass and bottle (the latter I was never quite sure about in the case of what it actually was), pour some of the drink into the glass, and sit in his chair. "H-H-How many trolls did you catch, sir?" His look turned neutral while drinking from his glass, but it was a sort of neutral that made me cautious and stay in my very spot. "Pepper...," chills ran down my spine. "Do you you see any boxes?" My eyes searched. "No, sir." "Do you see any trolls?" I put my own back against the wall as he took another sip. "No, sir." His eyes were like poison; deadly and painful to bear. "Come forward," he drawled. I swallowed a lump in my throat and did as I was told. Standing next to him in his chair, I looked down. "M-M-Mister..." "Shh. I'm not finished." My lips closed. "Pepper, darling, do you see a smile on my face?" He was still neutral. "No, sir, I-" "BECAUSE I DIDN'T CATCH ANY, YOU FOOL!" Coming to his feet, his hand forcefully made contact with my chest, sending me flying to the floor. Landing on my back, I laid there flat on the floor and pulled myself away from him. He stood over me, glaring with a look that would easily kill if it could. Mr. Snatcher's attacking hand remained in the air, at his chest's level. I took deep breaths and remained silent. I kept my eyes wide, hoping and praying they wouldn't moisten. "Well, get up." I snapped out of my trance at his words and rushed to my feet. "I'm sorry, sir. I was just...well..." I looked away in shame and rubbed my wet face. "You ask such ridiculous questions, and you're far too emotional. In time, I shall fix you." His ominous face slowly followed me as I leaned backward a little more. "And to top it all, you touch something of mine that isn't yours. Did I ask you to dust my chair?" My lip trembled and my stomach felt nauseous. "No, b-but, I-" "Why?" his hardened tone asked. "I-I-I..." I sat on my knees and planted my hands onto the floor, my head terribly low. "I used it last night to reach the sink so's I could wash the dishes like you asked me to!" I sniffled my red nose and cried and moaned before him. "You win, Mr. Snatcher. I'm sorry." I shut my eyes tightly, covering my face in shame. I didn't even have to ask what he was about to do. I already knew. He was going to drag me up the steps, lock me away, and never let me see the light of day again. But I received laughter instead. Mr. Snatcher held his head back, pointed at me, and laughed heartily. I rose my head to him confusedly. He was laughing at me. Why? "Kid, you've got a heart of glass!" "...huh?..." "You do one little thing and you must think that I'll destroy you should I find out." "Umm...oh, well, I..." "Oh my, you silly girl." He approached me, and took my hand. "Up with you now," he said calmly. I shakily stood up and shook at his hands taking my face in both of his freezing hands, tilting it up for me to meet him. "I do love it when I win, but even I'm willing to admit I did have a disappointing night, but your humorous behavior has lifted my spirits. I don't mind if you dust my chair. In fact, a little cleaning might keep you busy, but if you're not sure if you have permission to touch something, you can just ask me." "Oh..." I said. "Yes..." he mimicked. I smirked only a little when he did, but I looked away regretfully. A heart of glass? ... "Have a restful day, sir." "And don't forget to see us off tonight." "I won't." Standing on one of the plainer looking chairs, I'd started washing Mr. Snatcher's wine glass. Wiping it clean with a cloth, I set it aside and yawned. I smiled innocently as his clacking footsteps receded upward. Reaching for an overhead cupboard, I placed the glass back where he'd found it, and dried the counter of water and anything else I could find. I turned my head to look at the table, knowing that there was a piece of paper Mr. Snatcher had left there; a list he'd made for me. After putting the cloth away, I took the list, pulled out an apple from a nearby cupboard, and looked at the page. The hand writing was a little twisty, but with narrowed eyes, I managed well enough. 1. Tidy up your room. 2. Launder your clothing. Launder? As in laundry? Washing clothes? Surely that was what he met. I tiptoed up the steps so as not to wake up Mr. Snatcher and looked about my room. It wasn't too bad, for all I had to clean up was my bathroom counter and my used clothes on its floor. So I turned on the water, put all my clothes inside, and used the bar of soap to scrub my clothes, and I certainly hoped that I was doing it all correctly. ... "Mr. Pickles, how do you do laundry?" Several hours later, I came downstairs to greet Mr. Pickles, Mr. Trout, and Mr. Gristle. While Mr. Trout had gone down to the basement as he was holding a mason jar, and Mr. Pickles and myself sat at the table, Mr. Gristle had stopped in a corner, falling silent. "Laundry, Miss?" Mr. Pickles asked. "Mr. Snatcher asked me to...how did he put it...'launder' my clothes. I'm not sure if I did it right." Mr. Pickles hummed in thought. "How'd you do it?" "I remembered seeing some of the ladies at my old home washing clothes in a washtub, and scrubbing their clothes with hot water and soap, so I used my bar of soap and tub upstairs to do mine," I explained gesturing up the stairs. "Oh, in that case, may I show you something then? We've got a few things that'll make washing clothes a little easier," Mr. Pickles stood up and offered a hand and a kind smile, so I took it and walked with him to a closet I had never thought to open before. It stood close by the kitchen, in between that and the corner of the front door where the door stood. He opened the closet, revealing a collection of cleaning supplies: a broom, mop and bucket, sponges, a washboard and a round tin washtub and a green bottle Mr. Pickles pulled out for me. "We'll do our laundry here at the factory every few days or so during our down time. This here is the clothing soap. You fill the washtub with water, apply soap and rub the clothes against the washboard." "Yeah, I remember. But I've already washed my clothes." "You can always use these next time." "Sure!" I smiled at him, but sporadically chuckled. In talking about this story, I've realized that had been the first time I felt legitimately happy since I'd started living there, and it felt good. But then I noticed something Mr. Snatcher would've called 'peculiar': Mr. Gristle hovering over a rectangular tank I hadn't really gone over to look at before. The beanpole noticed that I was staring at him and he too looked on. "Yech!" I cried towards the sickly green box. "What's the matter, Miss?" Mr. Pickles asked. "What is he doing?" I asked, pointing at Mr. Gristle with my tongue out in disgust. "Mr. Gristle's just feeding the leeches." "Oh...what?" I asked. "You see that big old glass box, right?" "Yes, I do." "The three of us keep that tank of leeches. We take turns feeding them, but Mr. Gristle seems to like it more than we do, so when he asks if he can take a turn, we always let him." "Blech! Why leeches? Why not something nicer like a goldfish?" I asked with a sour look. "Well..." his voice trailed off. "Goldfish are nice, but I'm afraid the leeches are all we can afford. It's... for the better." "How come?" Mr. Pickles fell silent, tapping his fingers. "It's rather hard to explain." His gaze turn somber and tragic, as if something truly heartbreaking had just overtaken him. "Why? I won't tell." He hummed once more, this time a little anxious himself, but he wouldn't look away from me. He took a deep long breath, like I would have. "It's not that, it's...oh, it's no use. You'll see it all eventually." "Ooh..." My face lit up at the possibility of a secret. "See what? Tell me! Tell me!" Leaning forward, I gave him a grin, apparently goofy enough to make Mr. Pickles smile. Even as a child, I was never one to ignore a secret. "Well, the fact is, Miss, the leeches keep Mr. Snatcher from swelling up." "Swelling up? What's that?" "Well, he...gets bigger." "Bigger?" "Yes. If he eats cheese or drinks milk, his face and hands, and sometimes his legs could swell up too. The leeches, suck up the...pus in the skin, so that it's easier for him to stomach." "Well, his is really round and puffy." Mr. Pickles grinned and chuckled. "No, no, I mean 'put up with it'." "Oh..." I nodded in understanding. "What's pus?" "Uhh..." he said as his head grew misty with sweat beads. "It's this liquid that grows inside the skin whenever you get a sore on your body. The Boss gets them whenever he eats cheese. We call them 'Cheese Fits'," he explained with evident discomfort. "UGH! That's gross!" "You're right! Let's talk about other things," he replied as we both laughed. But then we trailed off... "He makes me nervous." "He makes everyone nervous." ... "And what is this for?" I couldn't help but smile the rest of my day after my talk with Mr. Pickles. To this day, I never thought that a conversation about laundry and leeches would make me feel better but I did. Even when Mr. Pickles, Mr. Gristle, and Mr. Trout went outside as the evening came and Mr. Snatcher came, I only felt a little afraid...but when I saw him coming down the steps the way he always did, I took a breath, cleared my mind, rushed to him, and wrapped my arms around his legs. "Today's been really good! I did all the stuff on the list, like you told me. And I talked to Mr. Pickles!" "Mr. Pickles, you say?" "Yes!" I exclaimed. He plucked me off his legs and put me to the side so he could walk on. "What did you talk about?" "Laundry and cheese and leeches!" "...I beg your pardon?" he chuckled nervously. "Laundry, cheeses, and leeches, Mr. Snatcher...your eyes are twitchy." Making it up to the counter at this point, I could see him stare aggravatingly at the counter. "Relax, Pepper," I thought to myself. "Did Mr. Pickles say anything about the leeches?" he asked in a bothered tone, almost a little scared. "They cure your Cheese Fits, sir." "Cheese Fits?!" he scoffed. "Pepper, dear, I do NOT receive these Cheese Fits you speak of! I use cheese to remind myself of my purpose on this Earth! To demonstrate the respect and power I deserve for my services to this town, inevitably leading up to the acquirement of a White Hat: a true connoisseur of cheeses." "Right..." "But I've spoken enough of that already. Now, Pepper, no more of this 'Cheese Fits' talk. It's not very becoming, and a waste of time." "Y-yeah, yeah, sure," I swiped my hair behind my ear. "You seem a little uneasy," he replied. I involuntarily twitched. "W-w-well, I've been doing a little thinking." He raised an eyebrow. "That must have hurt." "I don't want to-...hurt?" "Continue, please." I bit the inside of my lip. "Umm...I-I don't want to be made out of glass." "Glass, my dear?" "Yeah, I mean...you said I have a heart of glass. And..." I squared my shoulders and he nodded in reply. "I don't like it, Mr. Snatcher. Not at all!" B"Hmm, I see." "Nope! I...cry alot, and I don't want to. I don't feel 'special' yet." "Aah, you've mentioned that before." "Mmh-hmm...and..." my confidence deflated a little. "I'll be here for a loooong time, right?" He smiled. Playing with my fingers, I fell silent. "Pepper, I don't have all night." My head jerked up. "Y-Y-yes, uh, I-I-I want to go to a store, and get that dress and shoes I told you about. I-I think I'll feel better." He hummed, turned around, and strutted for the front door. "You're right, my child, for once. You should be a proper girl, just as I should be of the elite." He tightened his necktie. "And that is why we are here. I shall lead you in your endeavors towards bettering yourself. Drying your needless tears and what not," He opened the door, and turned to face me one last time. "But that must wait until tomorrow. Pleasant dreams, my dear." "Good-" He closed and locked it. "...night."

#the Boxtrolls #free pepper #slashjunky #fanficton #pepper #archibald snatcher

Free Pepper: A Boxtrolls Fanfiction

Free Pepper Chapter 2 I woke up the following morning inside an empty barrel right by the Inn. Gleams of sunlight came in through the lid that thankfully had a hole in it so I wouldn't suffocate. I did wake up with a drops of sweat running down my face and chest. The moment my eyes opened, I looked around, remembered where I was, and pushed the lid off the surface. I pulled myself up and popped my head out. Cheesebridge had drastically changed from the night before. The buildings and sidewalks glistened with sunlight with shade coming from the various structures of the town. A few men and women and even some children were out in the streets. A few were couples walked by speaking to each other as they passed by her. The children played with jump ropes and Hopskotch; they even looked around my age. With the peaceful, happy people and the much prettier looking structures around her, the town I found last night seemed much more bright, beautiful world than I'd ever imagined. Putting my feet on the ground, I straightened my button down shirt, pulled down my shorts, and pulled on my bag to make sure it was still there. I brushed the dust off me and straightened up. I watched the children, two boys and three girls, play a little more before I approached them. "Umm...excuse me?" When they looked at me, I realized how different I looked from them. The girls had ringlets and bows in their hair, and sported pretty dresses with fabric made flowers at their waists and closed toed buckled shoes. The boys looked refined in their clean button down shirts and trousers, and combed hair. And then there was me with my long auburn hair all dirty and limp, my smudgy boys' button down shirt, and jockey shorts. I didn't even have shoes with buckles like the girls (maybe that was why I kept glancing at them). "Pardon me, but why are you wearing boys' clothes?" one brunette girl in a blue dress asked. "And, I say, your feet are bare!" a handsome redhead boy in light green asked. "Are those jockey shorts?" a shrill blonde girl in yellow asked. I backed away for a minute. I bit my lip. "I'm afraid I don't have shoes, and..." I looked down at myself. "...this is all I have for clothes." "What a shame!" a smart sounding blonde boy in light brown said. "Can't your parents buy you clothes?" a girl in a lavender dress with black hair and a necklace asked. I frowned. "No...I don't even know where they are." The children looked at each other. "Oh, you must be one of those children from the orphanage on Cheddar Crescent, yes?" the shrill blonde asked. "...I didn't even know there was one." The children looked a little shocked and whispered to each other. "You're not a street urchin, are you?" the handsome redhead said. I felt a little tingly inside. They reminded me a little of the wealthy children in London. "If they're anything like them, they'll think I'm simply ghastly." "Well...I-" "Because if you are, that just can't be!" the handsome redhead continued. He took a step towards me, and I blushed a little. "No one can live on the streets in this town!" "H-how come?" I asked. "Is it because of the Boxtrolls?" The shrilly blonde girl hissed and held her hands back with a look of disgust on her face. It was actually a little humorous. "Ugh! Yes! Those monsters!" "I heard one last night from my bedroom window. I wonder if they took anyone last night. That ever happens again, this whole town'll fall down. I just know it!" replied the girl in lavender, now looking a little freaked out. "I don't think so...I mean if that had really happened...well...the Troll Man would've said something," the girl in blue said shyly. This made me look at her. "Who?" "Archibald Snatcher, the Troll Man, you know," replied the redhead boy. "If he'd seen something, he'd have waken us all up this morning telling us all about it." That name...Archibald Snatcher? "Does he have a red coat and hat?" "Yes, why do you ask?" the blonde boy asked. I looked at all of them. I felt a little thankful that we weren't talking about my clothes anymore, but their large eyes pouring into me, and my curiosity about the scary man I saw last night made me feel just as awkward. "I think I saw him last night and-" "Oh my! Did he see you?" the girl in yellow asked. "No..." "Oh good, I wouldn't dream of being out there with the Boxtrolls and Red Hats. Not since the Trubshaw Baby Incident. I don't know what I'd do!" replied the girl in lavender. "Who's Trubshaw Baby?" I asked. The blonde boy stepped up. "The Trubshaw Baby was a little baby who was taken and eaten by Boxtrolls just last year. His father went after him, but he didn't survive either! Yesterday was the first anniversary. Awful sad, isn't it?" I stood there in silence for a minute. "So that's why the Boxtroll exterminators hunt them? Because of what they did?" The children looked at me funny. "Have you lived in Cheesebridge very long?" the blonde boy asked. How do I respond? "I came into town last night." "Oh," they all replied. "I'm James Goudman," the handsome redhead said almost immediately. I smiled at him. Even his name was nice. And he was so nice too. They all were. I shook his hand and the hands of other children. So there was Leona in her lavender dress, Bryan the blonde boy, Abigail the blonde girl in yellow, Skyla the brunette in blue, and of course, James...and then there was me, Pepper from London, who had been invited to play and no longer felt self conscious about her appearance. Of course that could have been mostly because Bryan had luckily lived close by, hurried home, and gave me a pair of his old boys' trousers to wear; not very feminine, but it would do for now. We gathered around in a circle and watched as Bryan set up a circle in a street corner where he, James and Abigail played 'Marbles'. "So where do you live?" Skyla asked while Bryan counted his marbles. "Right other there," I pointed out the barrel I slept in last night. "There? Not very clean, don't you think?" Abigail had asked. "Well, I tried to get into the Inn last night, but it was closed and all dark," I replied. "Yes, but that's to be expected in this city," Bryan explained. "You should try the Cheddar Crescent Orphanage instead. The inn's expensive, and since you're...well..." "All alone?" I asked. "Well, that and a child like us, I'm sure they'd let you in." "My mother volunteers other there sometimes," Skyla mentioned. "The ladies who run it are very nice and they try their hardest to keep it clean." I was silent for a minute. "I-I don't think so." And all of them looked at me like I was crazy. "And why not?" James asked. London came to mind. You don' do nothin' right, ya lil yobbo! Get outta my shop, you lil' thief, 'n' don' come back! You wouldn't last a bally day out there, luv, 'n' that's just 'ow it is. "Where I come from, a lonely kid isn't the best thing to be. Lots of the people there can't stand them...it's part of why I left." Skyla looked a little upset. "I'm sorry, Pepper." "No, no," I told her. "Don't feel bad for me. I'm glad I left. Being a traveler is fun." "Most of the time..." "You're not going to stay?" Leona asked. "I'm not sure." "Well, if you do, hopefully you'll be glad to know that taking care of children is a big thing here in Cheesebridge. Ever since the Trubshaws died, we've gotten a curfew, Boxtroll lessons in school, lectures about what to do in emergencies, lots of things. Even the kids on Cheddar Crescent have a curfew and lessons too. Can't be left out of the loop, you know," James explained. "But I still don't know," I told him. "If I were you, I'd head to Milk Street as soon as we're done here. They'll give you a bed, a proper dress, and everything," Abigail said in a matter-of-fact kind of tone. I know I'm sounding repetitive right now, but I just couldn't figure out what to do. For the time being, my new friends took me all over Cheesebridge. They introduced me to the Market Square, which had all sorts of stands holding a variety of food and trinkets. Unbuttoning my bag, I pulled out a couple of one pound notes and bought a snack, a piece of Gouda. I bought another one, a block of it, and had the seller at the stand wrap it up for me to enjoy later. Abigail and Leona must have been well off too because they had a bit of money with them too. I couldn't help but notice a few people looking at me strangely. They must not have ever seen a girl wear boys' clothes' before; not to mention barefoot. Funny stares are nothing new for me though. They showed me the largest mansion in the whole town, The Cheese Guild, the home of the mayor, Lord Portley-Rind and his little family and staff. I was used to parliaments and the queen living on the nicer side of my hometown, so a mayor topped with a White Hat and surrounded by fellow White Hats confused me a bit. "The White Hats are the blokes who fix all the problems 'round here that aren't about trolls. Troll jobs go to the Red Hats," James told me. "They also get to taste lots and lots of cheese." "Why is this town so cheese centered, James?" I asked. "That's just how it's always been," he said. "I'm pretty sure it was founded on cheese. The cattle out in the pasture was all this whole place was at one point, but settlers from London wanted to start anew and used the cattle to start a cheese business. One thing led to another, and now we've got a town," Bryan replied. "At least I think that's how it happened." Walking down Cheddar Crescent, Skyla pointed out the orphanage to me on the way down. It seemed alright, just this little building with a couple of ladies and a cluster of children (most of them looked a little older than me) playing on its stoop. They looked happy enough, but all I could do was frown. She's a problem child, she is! I'll be surprised if anyone claims her; she's so shy. All she does is run around the docks. Ungrateful girl causin' trouble, no doubt. I did my best to ignore the quaint little building. ... It was hard to see my friends leave. We eventually found ourselves back at the Inn and played Hopscotch until their parents came by to tell them to come home with them. They too gave me strange looks when my friends pointed them out to me. Little whispers and the occasional glance at me made me take a step back and a courteous nod. But with each disappearing friend, their parents would pull them from me, take another look, and scurry away. And my lips wouldn't stop frowning. Some of the people here reminded me far too much of where I'd been before. Surely not everywhere I go will be filled with people like this. But then again, looking at myself in my dirty boys' clothes and lack of shoes, should I blame them? Does every town insist on giving ill dressed folks dissatisfied looks? If so, I'll know exactly what to do. ... Bryan was the last to leave, his parents giving me the funniest look out of all of them. Were they noticing his trousers on my? Maybe so...not that I cared. All alone again, I marched straight into the Cheesebridge Inn. I shall have my own room, find my own way, and I didn't care what anyone thought. People won't look at me funny anymore soon enough. The inside of the Inn was actually quite lovely. Wooden furniture with plush cushions for a Sitting Room, a chandelier up above to give it style, marble squares in the floor, and a Check-In table run by a snobby looking man in a black curled mustache. I took a deep breath, pulled down my shirt, pulled up my pants, and swiped the dust away from my person. I walked elegantly towards the table and cleared my throat. "Pardon me, sir?" I asked in a mannerly way. He looked over the counter but I could tell he was surprised to see someone so young and so short approach him, so he leaned over to look at me. "Yes...Miss?" he seemed to notice my wardrobe and lifted an eyebrow. I opened my bag and pulled out my multiple pound notes. "I'd like a room, please." The man looked at me, my money, and then left and right. "Are your parents about?" he asked curiously. I sighed. "Actually no...I'm alone for now, but I can handle it." "I can't give a child a room key without a parent or guardian," he replied dryly. "But I don't have those things. I have the money for it," I defended. "I'm afraid it doesn't matter," his tone hardened. He looked at me and I had a feeling I knew what was coming. "Where are you from?" he asked. "London, England, sir." "Hmm...you sound like it." What's that supposed to mean? "Now where'd you get this money?" he stared at it as he asked. He wasn't already jumping to conclusions, was he? "I earned it. I got it before I left home because I'm a traveler, sir," I replied. He gave me a look of disbelief. "How old are you?" he asked. "Six and a half," I replied. That, he seemed to believe. But soon enough he gave me a look that had a mix of snobbery and frustration. "You earned this? How could someone as young as you have worked so much that you're getting this! How d'I know you didn't steal it?" "B-b-but I really didn't! It was given to me. I swear it!" "It certainly appears that way. This is a proper hotel, not a boarding house, and certainly not an orphanage. There's one on Cheddar Crescent though." "Again, that blasted orphanage." "Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." "But, sir!" "We don't take suspicious ill-dressed children." "But I didn't do anything wrong!" The man rang a bell and soon came other members of the staff, I assumed, and came towards me. I pushed my money back into my bag. "Escort this little urchin out, will you?" A bulky looking man wearing orange wrapped his arms around and carried me away. I expected to collide with the hard pavement, but I was simply put down in the street, and watched the Inn's door close on my face. ... I'm not going to that stupid orphanage; not after everything that happened in my hometown. And if that meant retreating to my barrel, so be it. I tried dragging the barrel closer to the nearest alley way just in case. Don't want that hotheaded Inn Keeper yelling at me for anything else. They alleyway I found was pretty clear compared to last night, in which many of them were covered in boxes and trash. As the sky turned from blue to orange, I figured that this curfew would begin soon. Some of the businesses looked like they were closing and I could see people in the houses lock their windows and pull the curtains to shield the inside. The streets shifted from busy and thriving to empty and quiet. At least, with the exception of one sound: "HEAR YE! HEAR YE! GOOD CITIZENS OF CHEESEBRIDGE! THE CURFEW IS ALIVE AND WELL! DON'T BE CAUGHT ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS!" I practically jumped at that low oily voice that now seemed all the louder. I ran out of the alley but scampered back in the moment I saw the Box Truck from last night. The large man with bowler seemed to be in the driver's seat steering a small wheel. The tall skinny man and the manic ice-blue eyed imp held onto the sides (most likely by handlebars). And there on the very top of the truck sat the Troll Man himself in a comfortable looking seat right beside a table holding what looked like a pot of tea and a tea cup and saucer. He seemed to be holding what seemed to be the speaker of a phonograph. And up above it was a little umbrella to cover his head and chair. I hid against the alley wall and watched them come up the street. "FATHERS, HIDE YOUR CHEESE! MOTHERS, HIDE YOUR CHILDREN!" His voice made me shiver as they grew closer. As the Box Truck and I became parallel with each other, I could've sworn I saw the grays in his eyes hit me, causing me to slip drastically quickly, and further and further into the alley. He didn't see me, did he? I certainly hope not! Forget worrying about where to sleep. I need to hide from the big bad Troll Man. I camouflaged my barrel with a couple of trashcans and dashed inside it, making sure to cover the barrel with my lid. If it weren't for the holes they had, I don't how long I would have been able to stay inside. As I sat there in that enclosed space, I could hear grumbling outside. I looked through the barrel's hole and found more Boxtrolls searching through the trash. One of them, a tiny purple one wearing and actually holding an oil can looked as if he was examining an open door. It stared at with while it's little finger tapped its cheek, as if thinking intently. The little troll put a hand on the door and swung it back and forth quietly. As it squeaked, it would drip some oil into its hinges and sure enough, the door fell silent. And these were the same trolls who killed a baby and his father? The other trolls mostly minded their own business, looking through garbage and not harming anything or anyone. They did gurgle to each other over the objects they found. One troll with the words 'High Voltage' and another wearing a box for spectacles chatted with each other about a set of bent forks and light bulbs they'd found. Even though I couldn't understand their 'troll speech' so to speak, their behavior suggested that they weren't necessarily monsters. They just seemed...alright. I watched as the trolls freeze in their tracks and look terrifyingly towards the other end of the alley. We all heard a strange clacking sound come closer and closer. As I rolled up my trousers as they frantically scattered out of the alley as the ominous sound just got louder and louder. Even I was getting a little fearful. I sat down in my barrel and stretched my legs out as I just sat there. I wiped some sweat from my brow as my heart beat quickened. Clack, clack, clack The escaping trolls and my increasing stress levels could only bring me to one conclusion. It had to be a Red Hat, so I hoped and prayed that it would at least by the friendly looking Red Hats with the net and bowler hat. There were two out of the four Red Hats I knew of and 50/50 wasn't too bad. Clack, clack, clack I bit my lips and caught a tear running from my eye. Wrapping my arms my knees, I brought the latter up to my chin and closed my eyes. And to make things worse, i was hungry. I silently opened my bag and unwrapped my leftover block of cheese. Nibbling like a mouse, I almost held my breath as I swallowed this town's most precious resource. I didn't even realize the clacking footsteps had ceased. BANG! My world spun around as I chewed on tiny bits of Gouda. "EEK!" I cried, twirling about as the barrel lost balance and toppled over with a crash. My tears came back as I stayed perfectly still. I took several short breaths, praying, despite my dizziness, that they weren't too loud and whatever pushed the barrel over wouldn't try anything. As much as I would have loved to have been left there, my wish would never be granted, for within a minute of falling over, a frigid, elongated hand grabbed my arm and pulled me out. I was lowered to the floor, looked up, and backed away. I shuddered among the trash and nervously nibbled a little more of my cheese as my founder made eye contact with me. The first thing I dared to look at was his peeling trousers, his blood red coat and hat, and his large stomach that almost blocked his face from my view before he bent over and revealed an initially surprised look that quickly turned into a gentlemanly smile. Archibald Snatcher.

#the Boxtrolls #pepper #archibald snatcher #fanfiction #slashjunky #red hats

Free Pepper: A Boxtrolls Fanfiction

Author's Note: Please read the prologue to this Boxtrolls fanfiction first! For those who have, this chapter will finally introduce Pepper, who belongs to tumblr user, slashjunky, who has given me permission to use her.

Free Pepper

Chapter 1

This has got to be the strangest town I've ever seen. A tall looming hill with all kinds of little houses all stacked on each other. Odd, if you ask me. Then again, no one asks me about much anyway, but maybe things will be different here. 'Cheesebridge', they call it. 'A Gouda Place to Live', I would later read on a nearby poster. New town, new people, new life, and I'm nervous, yet a little excited. The first thing I saw coming into town wasn't really the poster. It was the town itself, piled up on a hill, and then a river; a cold, blue one that surrounded the town and stretched far off into the surrounding hills. They all looked nice though. Far different from the dingy slums and docks by the River Thames, and I should know. As I walked closer and closer into the town, I noticed the largest factory I'd ever seen. A behemoth topped with a gigantically tall red hat touched the river's shore and led me to the first street in the town: Curd's Way. Curds?

As in 'Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey'? So is there a Spider Lane in this town too?

I didn't stop to find out. I started up the long cobblestone path that would take me into the town itself. The houses and businesses all looked situation next to each other and connected. Each building looked empty and closed for the night. The only lights around me came from the streetlights, the moon way up above, and the stars I could barely see. I followed a long winding sidewalk up towards the very top of the hill, curious to know what would be there. "It's quiet," I thought to myself. Except from the occasional dog bark, it was hard to hear anything. Not because of my ears but because there was literally nothing. A little breeze perhaps, but other than that, the town was still and quiet. Soon enough, I did indeed find the poster promoting Cheesebridge. I stopped and stared at it for awhile. I knew literally nothing about this town, but I rose an eyebrow. "They must really like cheese," I whispered. As I followed the wall the poster was attached to, I noticed a couple more posters.

When the Curfew's Alive, Stay Inside

Red Hats: Boxtroll Exterminators

Beware the Sewers, for...

"'Here Be Monsters'..." I finished reading. I then looked all around and warily stepped. "If there's a curfew, I oughta find someplace to go," I whispered. Surely there must be some sort of inn. I reached into my over-the-shoulder bag and pulled out a few coins and several pound notes. Some of them were 10 pound notes, others were 15, even 20. I stuffed them back in and kept my eyes open for anything resembling a place to stay. A blinking streetlight sat beside a building that made me stop and look. I looked at a two story building with the word "INN" in great big letters on top, and I just had to smile. I looked both ways of the street and quickly walked across. I practically ran to it because of my long journey to find a new place. But as I neared it, my smile faded and my pace slowed considerably. The door I found to the inn had a nailed in sign that stopped her in her tracks.

CLOSED.

"Drat, even the inn? The curfew doesn't like me," I whispered. The building was as dark and empty looking as all the others. I turned back around and looked left and right. Where am I going to sleep? What am I going to eat? I looked at my face in a nearby puddle. I was so young, but I knew what I was doing. "I'll find some shelter and stay there. And then I'll come back" The breeze made me shiver, so I wrapped my arms around me and rubbed as fast as I could. "Maybe there's a box I can sleep in somewhere...f-for now."

I walked towards the first alley I saw, past a florist shop, and heard something. I jumped and squeaked as I drew closer to that little slot between building where I could hide for now. The rustling sound I heard come with a couple of gargles and gurgles, as if two creatures who knew no English, were speaking and arguing. I found an entrance to my target, hid by the wall and simple stared. The alley was infested with even more unusual images; little creatures with pointed ears, blue-green, sometimes purple skin, bandaged feet, stubby fingers, and a box to cover everything else. All they seemed to be doing was searching through trash cans, looking for garbage. Why would they want to though? If it's in the trash, then obviously it can't be needed anymore, right? And that's when it hit me: these must've been Boxtrolls!

The posters suggested that they were monsters, yet they didn't appear that way. "They don't seem monstrous." I did see a couple of them fighting though. A tall Boxtroll with a fish on its box was being attacked (not violently though) by another one with a shoe on its own. They looked as if they were fighting over a thrown out clock. Again, what's so special about a thrown out clock? As I watched, I had found a large empty box turned on its front side to hide under, figuring that if they were mean, at least they won't see me. Wondering, who would win the fight, it was all suddenly cut short by yet another strange sound. I remember back in London I used to hear the sounds of engines revving from real life motor cars. I heard they were going to be the next big thing, and it seemed as if Cheesebridge had them too. The creatures didn't seem to like them though because all too quickly they jumped in place and hid inside their boxes. I found it odd that as they hid, their boxes looked absolutely empty and normal.

But even I knew better than to stay out in the open during troubling situations. I hid underneath my box but only peeked out so that I could see if it truly was one of those brand new motor cars. I peeped at it and was awfully confused. The car that pulled up into the alley way was enormous and box shaped. On one side of it, I saw a painting of a creature just like the ones I'd seen but with a big red cross running through it. And one by one, men came down from the box car. "Wow, real men," I thought.

The first was tall and skinny (like me only I'm quite short). Even though his clothes were something of a chocolate brown, it was mismatched by a tall red top hat, and in his hands, he carried a net. He had a kindly face though. He wasn't super handsome, but it was soft in a nice way. The second man I saw was exactly the opposite of me; a big bulky man, yet with the tiniest bowler hat I'd ever seen. To me, he seemed like the sort of man who could beat a person up, but much like the first man, his face suggested a calm, gentle demeanor that wouldn't do so unless absolutely necessary. The third man on the other hand, was short like me, but his face seemed...what's a nice word for it...manic; as if anything was enough to set this man off into doing something one would find questionable. His eyes were really light, I realized; a very bright blue color that hid behind black round framed spectacles. His clothes were a dark bluish green, but much the first two, he also had a tall red hat; not as tall as the first man's, and his even had a hole in it. Before I could question the hole in the third man's hat, a loud voice interrupted my thoughts.

"GENTLEMEN!"

I dropped my box over my body once I heard it. The call sounded deep and threatening; almost as if the voice was coming from a place different than the source's throat. I tipped my box open ever so slightly and found the fourth man.

And it was hard to look away.

"Look at all these boxes left lying abouuuut. How curious, how peculiar. I do believe evil is afoot." The hiss in his voice and the stressing of certain syllables made me shudder. The last of these red topped men filled me with a unfamiliar air of dread. And I know it's not right to judge someone by appearance alone, and I'm sorry if I sound judgmental, but I have to be honest. I didn't have to look at him for very long to know that his appearance alone bothered me. As the first three men searched through the other boxes, empty and otherwise, I started at this fourth man's feet and my eyes traveled up from there. His shoes were a brownish orange with a one (maybe two) centimeter heel and a pointed toe. Its gold stitching reminded me of the hoity-toity business men from London. But the first thing that separated the man from them was his trousers. They didn't even reach all the way to his ankles, like I thought they were suppose to. His ankles were bare and gray with soot (at least it looked like a sooty kind of gray). Three or four centimeters above his ankle was where his trousers began. His legs were thin, not as thin as mine, and they were covered with pants that almost looked like they were peeling. As I kept looking up, I realized why his trousers seemed a bit short on him: right above his thighs was a bulgy stomach that, if anything, made him appear hunched over. Looking at his frame, I finally noticed that even he wore brown like the first two men, his hat was complimented by his red, velvet coat with a fur collar and more gold stitching that formed curved patterns. His face was pretty pale, with crooked teeth, a pointed nose, long greasy strands of dark brown hair (most of which was pulled back by its ends with a hair tie), and a pair of gray eyes that suggested that he had probably seen a great deal of "grown up" things that I had never known. And this mountain of a man was topped off by the tallest red hat I'd ever seen. He must have been very important. Where I came from, only important leaders would typically have velvet coats with fur and gold stitching, not to mention the tallest hat. His voice, gestures, cold gaze towards the empty boxes, and reptilian appearance frightened me, and I didn't even know his name. "Are all men like this?" I thought.

I ignored the conversation the first two of his men were having as I observed everything (something about feet, a bunion, and a grandma), but I did observe the short imp with the spectacles smack a few boxes with his rope gun. A couple even had the creatures in them. I watched the bulky man in the bowler take one while the first man with the net slammed down on it with his weapon. They're taking these trolls? And they all wear red hats? That's when it hit me.

The Boxtroll Exterminators.

"MR. GRISTLE, ACQUIRE THEM!" The creepy man pointed in her opposite direction and off went the man with the hole in his hat. "Acquire...acquire! Ahaha! COME BACK AND LET ME HIT YOU!" We both watched the man, Gristle, run off after a couple of moving boxes the Leader must have noticed before I did. The latter turned his head and watched until the laughing man was out of sight and after the little monsters. With the leading Red Hat's head turned, now was probably the best time to find a better hiding place. I could hear the footsteps of the other men in the red hats. Two sets of taps and a set of clacking rang in my ears as I slowly but quietly crawled through the garbage, with one hand clutching my bag to keep it from making a noise from dragging along the ground. I just had to get away from the first two men, the friendly looking ones, and their intimidating Leader.

#the Boxtrolls #Archibald Snatcher #Pepper #slashjunky #Red Hats #fanfiction #laika