<<BoxTrolls Movie; Reader Insert>>

.....A...boy?

"Winnie, for the last time, you will never find a boxtroll strolling around at a time like this, besides they can see our room's lights are still on" A mature (h/c) 12 year old with (e/c) eyes and glossy lips says while braiding her hair and on her (f/c) nightgown.

Winnie, a 10year old, girl with two braided pigtails silently pouted while peeking from behind an ornate curtain as she watches the trash can lid fall over and wobble to a stop. She gasped in fear and fascination as she whips the curtains closed,

"Boxtrolls! (Y/N), they could come and eat our faces off at any moment!" She excitingly whispered, leaving her older sister with a confused look,

"I....still don't know if you really are a lady or not, Winnie.." She chuckled as she puts down her brush,

Winnie runs to (Y/N), grabbing her slender (s/c) hands and pulls her out of their room, "We'd better tell father!"

(Y/N) cocked a brow up and was dragged by Winnie's strong pull, "Wha— Winnie! He's still meeting with the other White Hats at the tasting room"

She scolded, but her little sister didn't listen at all, Winnie runs with (Y/N) down a staircase towards a set of double doors. The sound of laughter and waffling grows as Winnie approaches the door.

Winnie gestures (Y/N) to knock, letting out a deep sigh in frustration, she knocks gently for her sister.

No response.

She knocks harder.

Still no response.

Winnie let out a small annoyed whine and impetuously pushes the door open,

"Winn— Stop, wait!" (Y/N) softly scolds but was too late.

It's a Victorian man cave. A dark, ornate rotunda with walls lined with cases of rare cheeses. At a table stacked with fine cheeses, four men are seated, wearing gleaming white hats.

(Y/N)'s face grew in disgust smelling the scent of the different types of cheese, making her pinch up her nose.

Winnie, as a habit to wherever they'll go, links her arm on her sister's, watching her father along with the other men

Boulanger, an old man in a steamed power wheel chair, snoozes at one end of the table while the short, rotund Langsdale and tall, thin, beak-nosed Broderick roar with laughter at the other end. Standing imperiously in the middle, and wearing the most ornate white hat, is Lord Portley-Rind.
                        
"Settle down, men, settle down. Important town business to discuss. First on the docket: more complaints of crumbling bridges." Their father says
                       
"Speaking of crumbling... is that a new blue cheese I see?" Langsdale says, Broderick stands and leans into the cheese, breathing deeply, "Does smell delicious."
                        
"I suppose we could do with a nibble first." Lord Portley-Rind suggested as they taste cheeses like snobs tasting fine wines -- sniffing, rolling it on their tongues, spitting in buckets, etc.
                        
"Mmm... Pungent..." Brodrick compliments

"Complex..." Langsdale followed
                        
"I'm tasting notes of... plum!" Brodrick added as Boulanger snores.
                       
"All good fun, but we do have this school funding initiative to voted on. Been sitting here for months.
All in favor of--" Lord Portley-Rind says with mouth full of cheese, reading docket

"--Cutting open the Roquefort next?" Brodrick cuts his sentence as they all cheered in unison, "AYE!!"
                        
Lord Portley-Rind tosses the docket behind him, giving in, "Well, okay, okay. A quick reminder, tomorrow is Trubshaw Baby Remembrance Day."