#if trees cant thrive then why would humans want to here.

[twilightstoned]

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[siriuslyobsessedwith]

Pregnant!Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy

Hermione finds out that she is pregnant exactly 19 months after she started dating Draco. To the day: December 23rd.

On that fateful day 19 months before, all the longing looks and flirtatious banter had come to a head, and the night after one of their heated rendezvous, Draco strode obnoxiously into her office, slammed the door and asked a question.

“Granger, are you playing me for a fool?”

He had tossed himself elegantly onto a small leather duvet in the corner of her office, and his brow was quirked imperiously as his silver eyes bore into her.

She was busy, of course. She was on a fast track to become minister, and as head of the DMLE’s legal division, she was responsible for preparing legal defense and prosecution for aurors. And she was in the middle of a highly contentious case at the moment involving an at-large Death Eater and stolen dragon’s eggs.

Knowing full well it would annoy him, she responded without even looking up for the document she was editing: “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Malfoy. Care to elaborate?” She struggled to hide the grin that wanted to grace her lips.

Of course he played along. “Well, Granger, I’m speaking with regards to the meeting we had last night. I personally believed I performed admirably, as did you, and I feel we...work quite well together, no? Exceptionally well. And...”

His hand scratched the back of his neck. Hermione knew the tic well enough, and suddenly her interest was piqued. What did he have to be nervous about? They were quite...comfortable around each other, to say the least.

“I’m just going to say it: I-I’d like to take you on a real date, Granger. You know, you dress up and I tell you you’re gorgeous and woo you over Italian wine. I’m sure Weasley used other less sophisticated methods but—“

“I’m free tonight,” she interrupted, eyes sparkling with happiness. She kept her lips pursed to hide her childish excitement. Finally!, “Pick me up at eight?”

His lips open slightly in astonishment (shock?), he simply nodded and skirted out of her office. That was a wonderful night, leading into the wonderful weeks and months to come.

But now, 19 months later, Hermione is sitting in her office absolutely terrified. She’s cast the pregnancy charm over and over and over, and each time it’s come back positive. She needs to schedule an appointment with a Healer, find out how many weeks pregnant she is, she needs to start thinking about maternity leave, she needs to worry about the extra expense of a child.

And, of course, she needs to figure out how to tell Draco. But she doesn’t want to think about that. She cant think about that right now. The what-ifs racing through her mind are just too much for her to handle at the moment.

Now, because she’s Hermione Granger, she’s able to get into a Healer the same day. She swears the man to confidentiality, because the only thing worse than telling Draco is him finding out from someone else. She finds out she is 6 weeks pregnant (which explains the last 4 weeks of feeling like she had a terrible flu—how had she been so blind?), and then the Healer tells her, gently, cautiously, “It’s twins, Ms. Granger.”

Her heart stops; her mind swirls. Twins. Twins?! What is she supposed to do with twins? The thought of one baby is immobilizing, but two? And what if Draco doesn’t want them? What is he’s angry and he abandons her? Some part of her knows that this man who she’s spent that past-almost-year with would never do these things, but she’s terrified.

She knows she has another two weeks before she starts showing too obviously, so she walks silently out of the Healer’s office and starts formulating a plan. She can’t make it obvious to Draco that something’s off. But she needs to tell someone, and though she loves her friends, she knows not a single one of them can keep their mouths shut.

Her hand drifts to her lower stomach, and for a second she loses herself in the reality that she has two whole HUMAN BEINGS growing inside of her. She feels hope and fear and confusion rising in her throat, stinging her eyes, and she has to rush back to her office before she bursts into tears on the ground. 

Unfortunately, unbeknownst to the crying witch, Draco Malfoy is slumped elegantly on that same leather couch in the corner. 

Draco nearly has a heart attack. Not because she burst in so abruptly, but because she’s never cried like this before. At least not in front of him. He starts imagining what could have happened, what someone could have done to her, what he is going to have to do to said person—

She raises her head from her arms, revealing swollen eyes and tear-splotched cheeks, sees him, and promptly starts sobbing again.

“Merlin, Draco,” she pushes out between bursts of laughing-tears, “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you say something? You’ve really caught me at the worst possible moment, and—“

“What happened, Granger?,” he asks, voice low and gentle, “Tell me what happened.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” she lies, eyes darting anywhere but his face. She rubs the tears off her face with the back of her hand and releases a breathy laugh. “Just a rough day, a bad argument, nothing major. I’m just being dramatic. Its--its nothing.”

His eyes darken. She swallows. It’s obvious he knows she’s lying. But what is she going to do? She thought she had two weeks to plan, to decide, to run away and start a new life in Nova Scotia (ok, she only considered it for a moment).

“Alright, sit back down,” she says, voice small and a little raw from all the crying, “I-um-I have something I have to tell you. And, I-uh-I just want-uh-you to stay calm while I explain, and then you can say whatever you like, alright? Ok, here we go. Um, so, you know how I’ve been feeling bad the past couple of weeks?” She pauses, swallowing again, asking herself if she is really going to do this right now, in this way.

He nods, silently. He stares at her with such intensity she thinks she might fracture into a million pieces.

“Well, turns out I’m not sick,” she mumbles, losing confidence, “I’m-um, well, I’m pregnant. There it is. I’m pregnant.”

She expects his heart to stop. She expects to watch him freeze, his eyes widen, his leg stop bouncing. He does none of these things. He just curses and starts grinning. 

“Well, Granger, you certainly know how to upstage a man. I came in here to ask you to marry me, you know? Exactly 19 months to the day since our first date. I had a whole romantic speech planned, I’ve got the ring right here, in fact, and our whole band of sorry friends are just down the hall waiting for my signal to come congratulate us on our upcoming nuptials. But I should have know, the Hermione Granger would certainly find a way to overshadow my grand proposal.”

His voice grows in volume and love and excitement and joy as he continues and grins at her knowing he scared her and knowing he just dropped a bomb, and she starts blubbering again, laughing at the two of them, at his botched proposal and her equally-botched pregnancy reveal.

“Yes,” she squeaks, getting up from her chair and locking eyes with him. “I mean, my answer is yes, of course. But, what do you think about, I mean...,” she looks down and her hands and eyes rest on her stomach.

And just like 19 months ago, he asks, “Do you take me for a fool, Granger? The Malfoys are an ancient pureblood family obsessed with lineage. I saw them--yes, I know its twins--appear on my family tree two whole months ago. And I’m not a bloody idiot, I noticed you throwing up in the mornings and not eating very much. You’re quite dense about some things, you know. I’ve been in agony waiting for you to realize.”

And she’s giggling uncontrollably now, almost hysterical, and she rushes over, throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder. His hands slip down to the small of her waist, tugging her to him, and he whispers in her ear, “We’re having twins, Hermione. Twins.”

And she whispers back, “Twins and marriage, Draco. We never do anything slowly, do we?” Happy tears glisten in her eyes as the heartbroken and frightened tears of earlier dry on her cheeks. 

And they pull apart and look at each other and know that, against all odds, they’ve found and built something so special. He pulls out the ring and she gasps and says yes over and over and over and he touches her stomach and she smiles and they walk out of the office together to find Harry, Ginny, Ron, Blaise, and Pansy looking at them incredulously.

“Well?,” Pansy demands, pursing her lips, “I expected this to take fifteen minutes max, but the two of you have been in there for at least double that? Botch the proposal, Draco?” 

Draco smirks playfully at her. “No, Pans, it actually went perfectly,” he lies smoothly as he squeezes Hermione’s small hand. “And it’s extra good that I proposed today, because otherwise our twins would have been the first bastard Malfoy descendants, and that would have been a tad embarrassing.” 

Draco thrives on the shock of his friends, and he feels pride building up inside of him, coursing through his veins as he imagines a future with his powerful, amazing wife and their undoubtedly-perfect children. He never imagined that after all the darkness and sacrifice and pain of his childhood that he could make such dreams a reality. 

And Hermione? She just fakes a gasp at Draco’s brash statement, pretending that she didn’t script his exact words just so she would get to see the shocked looks on her friend’s faces. 

Because honestly, taking things slow, being cautious, hesitating? That has never been their style. 

[tea-and-conspiracy]

Dragonfall (Amaurotine AU)

Persephone stared as fire rent the sky. She wanted to tell herself that she’d merely found a falling star, but something about the smoldering wound it left behind didn’t feel right. The helpless spark spiraled behind the mountains and vanished from sight, leaving her longing for it.

The Traveler scrubbed tiredly at her eyes and returned her mask to her face. It was late, and she should have been in bed by now, but some instinct had kept her in the observatory just a little longer. Was it to witness this?

It’s nothing. Sleep, she told herself.

She also refused.

Persephone gathered her robes and raced down the stairs, only to all but collide with Lahabrea the moment she reached the ground floor. The way his mouth hung open suggested he was just as wired as she was -- and not merely because he, like her, had a habit of not sleeping.

“You saw it?” he asked.

She nodded. “Any idea what it was?”

“No debris. No discharge. I think it might be organic.”

“What? What drew you to that conclusion?”

He held his hands out as he tried to find the words to explain. “Primarily the shape, but it also appeared to be in…almost a controlled fall. I don’t think the fire came from its re-entry; I think the fire came from the entity itself.”

Persephone blinked. “A…creature? Falling from the heavens?”

Lahabrea chuckled. “Oh trust me, I find it just as curious. I could be wrong of course, but when was the last time that happened?”

She folded her arms across her chest. He smirked.

“…I’ll find where it is.”

“Make haste, Speaker.”

Lahabrea gave a sloppy bow and left.

He was 10 minutes late to the Convocation meeting the following morning which, as far as Amaurotine etiquette was concerned, was a slap in the proverbial face. Lahabrea stormed in with a whole armful of papers and dropped them in front of Persephone in triumph. Emet-Selch pinched the bridge of his nose with a suffering sigh; the other Convocation members stared in silence.

“…Summarize, please?” Persephone dragged her gaze up to the Speaker, and then added, before he could talk, “In ten words or less.”

That momentarily set him off-balance. Lahabrea opened and closed his mouth, and said at last, “We think it fell in the lakelands.”

She nodded. “What is Anyder’s suggested course of action?”

“To retrieve it, of course.”

“If…I may…” Elidibus stood. “Given that this might be a who we are encountering, and not a what, I should like to be present on the expedition.”

“By all means. It might enjoy a nice fruit basket,” Emet-Selch intoned.

Elidibus stared at him. He didn’t bother noticing. “To that end it might be wise to send the Architect as well, lest we require some means of containing this thing,” the boy added.

Emet-Selch frowned.

“And you, Azem?” Lahabrea asked. “Courting the foreign and bizarre is soundly your domain. I daresay your skills may be required here as much as any other.”

That seemed to placate Emet-Selch somewhat.

Persephone considered, but she could not restrain her grin. “You make my job sound so frivolous,” she said, “but if this is the Convocation’s will then how can I refuse?”

~*~

There was an unspoken rule that no one was to settle the lakelands -- or at the very least, it was widely known how adamant the Amaurotines were on preserving it. Thus its grasses and trees grew with primordial vitality; its waters ran so pure that one could see to the bottom of every river and stream, and indeed the very lake itself. The Silvertear Falls lived up to their name in the afternoon sunlight, roaring with enough power to reverberate within one’s chest and flavor the air with tangy wet earth. It was all so pristine that the blackened hulk shuddering on the shoreline felt a harsh rebuke. They could hear its ragged breathing even from yards away.

“That…is terrifying,” Lahabrea said at last.

“A…serpent? Or…?” Elidibus canted his head to the side.

Persephone glanced to Emet-Selch. “What do you see?”

“…Many lives,” he replied, after a moment. “It brought children. I see the glow of its eggs through the grass. Its own power might have once been enough to level Amaurot, but now it is much diminished.”

“But is it hostile?” Elidibus asked.

Emet-Selch shrugged.

Persephone stepped forward, but Lahabrea caught her. “Are you mad?” he demanded. “A brooding animal will be paranoid around her eggs!”

“Look at it, heaving into the shore! It’s in pain. There’s no way in Creation that thing has any fight left in it!” she replied.

And before he could answer, she stormed off.

The creature was elegant and serpentine, armored in thorny black hide. It lifted its head as she approached, watching with smoldering eyes from where it curled protectively around a spectrum of different-colored eggs. Smoke yet plumed from atop its head, but there was no obvious fire to the beast that she could see. While it bristled at her approach, however, it gave no signs of outward aggression. Persephone extended a hand in greeting while the other three ran to catch up behind her.

I would not suffer thee to approach… the creature rumbled, if thou dids’t not smell so of the world.

Persephone ground to a standstill, staring at him.

Thou understandeth me? His eyes flashed relief, and he bowed his head. Then hear me, messenger. I am Midgardsormr, the last of my kind. I have fled here seeking asylum after the destruction of my star. I do not mean thee or thine harm, but seek only a safe haven where my young may yet hatch and thrive.

“I can hear him…” Elidibus spoke in awe, appearing at her side. “That sounds like language, and yet…I understand. What do you seek asylum from, dear friend? What was so terrible that it could destroy an entire world?”

In response, Midgardsormr lifted his magnificent head to the sky. An empty shell. A construct born without empathy. Something ever-evolving, such that it would forever remain at the apex of war. Mindful of that mandate, it destroyed everything to fulfill the wishes of its creators. I was not the first to stand against it, but now I am the last.

“It is a crime to give any one creation full autonomy.” Emet-Selch frowned. “And so we find our fears fully realized, it seems.”

“But if no one was able to lay this calamitous creation low…” Lahabrea squinted. “Then what became of it?”

Midgardsormr bowed his head. It gave full pursuit as we fled. I have not seen it, but I hold tremendous fear that it may have followed us here.

Persephone felt her heart drop into her toes. She and the others exchanged tense glances.

Lahabrea took a step forward, his eyes like coals between the slits of his mask. “If this rogue creation threatens this world and the people in it, then we will destroy it. We are masters of Creation magic, able to bend the very laws of reality to our will – and should we will it, it shall be done. What threatened your home will not threaten you here.”

‘We’, he said, but Persephone got the distinct impression that this thing was mainly going to be Azem’s problem -- her problem -- assuming it was here.

It possesses those very same abilities, came Midgardsormr’s response, only it lacks thy physical limits, leeching instead the life of the land. So tell me, mortal, can thou truly say with certainty that thou canst best such a creation?

For once, the Speaker had no answer.

Elidibus strode forward, placing a hand over his heart and bowing his head. “If we were able to promise safety to you and your children…might you lend us your wisdom? We may not be as mighty as you, but we are intelligent, and many; it is said that no true Amaurotine shies from the impossible.”

That is your people. Amaurotine?

“The people of our land anyway, yes.” Elidibus smiled. “Our word for our people simply means, ‘those with hands’. So if you must, you can call us human.”

Human. Midgardsormr lidded his eyes. On our star, we were called dragons.

 ~*~

 Amaurot rejoiced at the arrival of the dragons, collectively tripping over itself ensure that they were nurtured and cared for. Akadaemia Anyder built an incubated aerie for the eggs, and made certain to provide Midgardsormr with as much meat as he could possibly consume. Their finest healers looked to his wounds, briefly stymied at points by his alien physiology; in time he began to recover, though the fire in his mane never returned.

The Father of Dragons proved a font of wisdom, and each Convocation member drank deep of it. Lahabrea brought his entire faculty with him to take notes on Midgardsormr’s world, categorizing it so that, even in its destruction, it would not be forgotten. He plumbed the dragon’s mind for all he knew of his mysterious adversary, a metal shell with the powers of Creation.

Elidibus longed to learn his alien language. Midgardsormr taught it patiently, explaining that music was as much communication for dragons as speaking was. It held such a special significance for them that the Emissary, ever conscious of those around him, made certain that various musicians paid the great wyrm visits from time to time. Something about Amaurotine music clearly lulled the dragon into peace; it reminded him of the ocean, he said.

When Emet-Selch heard the dragon Sing, he returned the next day with a variety of crystals. As ever, he bent entirely to his work, such that the rest of the world was shut out around him. In time he learned that the crystals would attune to different frequencies in a dragon’s roar, which would, in turn, make them immensely more powerful. Hythlodaeus occasionally lamped nearby, being helpful for once.

But Persephone did none of these things, for she learned plenty through her colleagues. Instead she invited the dragon to ask her about Amaurot, and the greater world beyond.

Why dost thou conceal thy faces? he asked one day, as she worked to scrape away a molting patch from his hide.

“Is that a request to see my face?” she asked with mild amusement.

I would like to know what humans look like, yes.

Persephone smiled, pulled down her hood, and removed her mask. She stood still as he craned his head to look down at her, watching her first through one eye, then the other.

Curious. But not displeasing.

“How very kind,” she teased. “But to answer your question: some of us are born more beautiful than others. Some of us are old and some of us are young. Want and envy are born from inequality, but by wearing the same masks and the same clothes, we remove such vain concerns. It’s the fair thing to do.”

And does it work?

“Pardon?”

Are all in thy society equal?

Persephone moved to give her automatic response, but the question gave her pause. The dragon was not asking out of curiosity, she realized – no, she could see that in his eyes.

“…You are most keen, Father of Dragons.” She smiled and bowed her head humbly. “How could you tell?”

When Lahabrea bringeth his students to me, I notice how differently they treat one another based upon their magical aptitude.

“Oh.” Persephone smirked faintly. “Yes, that’s...the unfortunate reality of Amaurot. I travel often. I’ve seen so many peoples and so many places -- some of which have ceased to exist even in my lifetime. And do you know what I’ve discovered?”

The dragon did not speak, but he blinked the question at her.

“I’ve discovered that the more you try to make everyone the same, the harder everyone tries to find what’s different. Case in point -- if you are not a powerful creationist here in Amaurot, you are considered someone worthy of pity, as though you possessed some inherent defect. But if you are skilled, it is expected you will do something fundamentally life-changing, for the betterment of all mankind. If you do not, you are at best an underachiever and at worst, selfish. See the conundrum?”

As I expected, then. T’would seem that some behaviors are universal, even across the stars. The dragon’s eyes squinted with amusement, but he turned to consider her. Dost thou know thy fellows without the masks? Is such a thing permitted?

“If you are familiar enough with one another, yes.” Persephone found herself smiling. “It’s a...personal thing, sharing your appearance. It’s something you give to those you trust the most.”

Such as Emet-Selch.

She flinched up at him in shock. The dragon threw back his head and made a sort of bark-growl-roar-chortling noise that she assumed was laughter.

He speaks of thee fondly while he works. Not often. So when he doth speak, I know it to be of great import in his mind.

Persephone smiled faintly, eyes upon her weathered boots. “I did not quite grow up with Emet-Selch. Or with Hythlodaeus for that matter. But we spent many years of schooling together. They are…very dear to me.”

But thou revealed thyself to me so readily. Thou hast done me a great honor, Azem.

“That’s moreso something I do. Revealing myself casually, that is.” She laughed softly and shook her head. “See, my duty is to traverse this world and interact with its people, and I find people are far more willing to engage when you don’t hide your face all the time...” And so she went on with tales of her travels while she worked – though she left her head bare for the time being, seeing as how it was important to him for whatever reason. “Consider it a favor in return for all the knowledge you have given us. You have been tremendously generous. How much longer will it take for the eggs, do you think?”

Still much time. The dragon lidded his eyes, resting his chin on the grass in contentment. The chill of space sent them into deep slumber, and long will it be before their inner Fire is rekindled. I did not wish for such, but I was left with no other choice. A pause, and then, Seen thou aught of Omega?

“We’ve had eyes upon the sky at all hours of the day, but still, nothing. You are sure he was close enough behind you to know where you were going?”

Midgardsormr whuffed, parting the grass blades immediately in front of him. Mayhaps I am wrong, Azem the Traveler. I pray that I am…but I very much doubt it. This star must needs prepare.

“We will.” She tried to sound as confident and reassuring as possible. “You’ve the greatest minds in the universe at your side.”

Midgardsormr did not respond.

[abthepoet]

So Id like to mention that COVID19 has put a lot of things into perspective.

My industry of experiential marketing was literally one of the first to go about a week ago when stores began banning all live demonstrations. I work in the natural and organic food industry doing live events and cooking recipes on site to sample brands to customers at grocery retailers.And because sampling tables are good places to spread germs, my demos all immediately came to a stop. I'm also an in home, private Music Teacher to kids of various ages and needless to say if schools' on hold, so is teaching. and so is income. My Venmo is :ABBlas22

Which sucks, a lot because the majority of my work is independent contractor based. . . .and there's no health care, paid leave, unemployment, or sick time. Why do I still do it? Because I love the industry, the opportunities it affords me, and the pay is solid. Except come tax season. The Government likes to fuck you if you work for yourself. . . .even tho I pay for all my own equipment and car repairs to get me from job to job. My Venmo is ABBlas22

However, amid the panic, I havent felt this calm in years. The constant anxiety and pressure of having to make money and go to work and be on time and make my schedule and drive from this city to that city for this demo and that demo, has subsided. I finally wake up and I'm not staring at the clock counting down how long before I have to leave which triggers an anxiety fest about leaving my dogs home alone because my one dog has such severe separation anxiety she destroys her crate, escapes, and then ruins the house(we are actively working on it) . . .so I'm up early and nervous about, "ok I have three hours I have to walk the dogs for at least one of those hours, feed them, get dressed, brush teeth, try to eat, clean the house, stuff their Kongs, make sure I have everything I need, and then try to sneak out before the dog starts freaking out." followed by "did I book enough demos this week, if I have to execute 16 for the month where can I put another demo, should I give myself a day off? nah, i need the money, let me check my Google calendar for the 65th time this morning and stare at all the blank dates I should be booking demos instead of doing anything else because no matter how much I work, it is never enough. So I spend an hour worrying about plunging my family into financial ruin. . . . better get online and start digging thru emails and brand Ambassador groups to make sure I've got enough work. Oh what's that? the sound of my entire family and partner telling me to get a *regular* job even though the idea of punching a clock and working for someone else makes me physically sick. . but I go and do it anyway because its a W2 position so you think well maybe I'll get health benefits at least and then come to find out that this bullshit retail job doesn't give part timers benefits of any kind, but I keep the job anyway because everyone said a normal job was best, but it pays $6 less an hour than my demo gigs and is a total waste of my skills and professional experience and eventually is cutting into my income because its taking up so many weekly hours but pays significantly less that I start calling out to go do demos instead and then the same people who were like "get a regular job" turn around and go "no, not That job, try This job."

and I'm over here ready to fucking scream because I've Been very clear about wanting to be in business for myself. I have tried many things, including testing an extremely beta version of what eventually became Uber Eats. . . I could be a millionaire but my parents thought it was a stupid idea and once I used up my resources trying to drum up business, that was it.

also, this is the worst part about being a millennial. I went to college for music because they said be anything and follow your dreams . . .but then I graduated into recession (2006) and got the first job I could,at a deli, which . . . .isn't exactly a degree holding position. For years we said,"I'm just grateful I Have a Job right now." and we got bitter, broke, and depressed as a generation. We're in our 30's now and it's just as bleak an outlook for our generational future. At least until the boomers die out and free up some of that wealth, if they don't all leave it to the cat and state first just to spite us.

So yea, people are freaked out with COVID19 but for the first time, I dont feel pressure or anxiety to rush out the house or make money because everything got cancelled. All I want to do is work super hard on my own online store via Shopify and grow from there. I love to work and I love the discipline of hard work. I would rather spend 18 hours in a day working on my own business and hustling my ass off to make it work using over a decade of marketing and sales experience to promote my brand for once.

But that's hard to invest time and money when I live paycheck to paycheck and have a partner and fur babies who depend on me. Everytime I excitedly talk about dropshipping through shopify and all my plans for it, it's met with a nervous "I believe in you but dont fuck us financially." "I believe in you but doesn't that take time." "I believe in you but why don't you just work here, they pay decent."

I love that the #Coronavirus hit and suddenly human rights are easy to hand out. I love that Coronavirus got us to halt economies on a scale so massive that will actually help us fight climate change. Capitalism has destroyed our planet and our species.

I want to always remind everyone that we are a species first. Not countrymen, not race, not religion. . . we are all dancing flesh bags, given different corporeal conduits with which to experience life and then later compare notes with one another.

"What's life like in that short skin suit?"

"Not bad but I can't reach anything."

"Good thing I got one of these tall skin suits." *grabs top shelf items*

"Thanks!"

It's to help us come together, understand similarities thru differences and use them to gain new perspectives while helping our species and our planet thrive.

This insane notion that everyone needs to have a job needs to go. Our species was Not made to do slave labor all day long for an invented wage that keeps us stuck fighting for basic survival when we have the potential to completely alter our lives.

The Earth is a hostage who's not allowed to feed her own kids. They locked up every fruit bearing tree, enslaved every animal, poisoned the soil, polluted the water and then held your life at gunpoint and demand you hand over hours of your life to work that does a disservice to your potential for greatness just for a chance to get a taste of what should be your birthright.

Basic needs of survival that all humans will die without shouldn't be prizes for who can work themselves to death the fastest.

Im using this time as an opportunity and am taking what little resources I have to work on my online store and sell off and flip what I can to make start up money on Ebay. (I dont even have WiFi and my apartment complex has locked the business center for CoronaVirus) . Using my phone for everything is really fucking tedious, especially because I've had it for 4 years and it doesn't always cooperate, but I'm grateful I even have one to use. If you want to invest in me, even just $5 I will 100% be using it to get a business off the ground. I've got most of the basic work done and market research, but with no income I cant even afford the basic Shopify plan at $30 a month, I'm hoping they pass a moratorium on evictions because how do I pay rent with no job to go to!?

My Venmo is : ABBlas22 and I do reward!

[bijoulilou]

After TWK part iii

It was surprisingly cool that evening, Jude observes, stepping out of Vivi's apartment. Tom waits patiently as she goes back inside to get a sweater. She reached to grab a slouchy sweater that was abandoned behind her bedroom door but Vivi stops her.

"You're not thinking of wearing that with your dress are you?" Vivi rummages through her clothes, then tosses her sister a denim jacket. It even smelled clean to Jude's surprise.

"I didn't think it was your style." Jude remarked. It didn't seem like Heather's either.

"Its not." Vivi didn't offer an explanation and Jude was in too much of a hurry to ask for one. She tossed her a pair of strappy sandals sandals but Jude declined. She tucked in the laces of her jet black boots to which Vivi nodded appreciatively.

"I'm almost jealous, i could never wear those. Steel toe and all. Very punk of you."

Jude paused, "is that a complement?" She turned to look at herself in Vivi's mirror. Heather had shown her how to apply liner and mascara to make here eyes look bigger. She even dusted the apples of her cheeks with a little color and added a little tint to her lips. Jude was strangely aware of her appearance and very nervous.

"You look great. Now go out there before he thinks you ditched him. C'mon Oak we have to pretend to do homework." Oak glared out the window, down at Tom. Resenting the day he pulled his prank, he scowled at the mortal instructor.

"Don't wait up, I'll be home in a couple of hours to check your homework. And if i forget Tom will tell me tomorrow!" Jude warned as she stepped over the threshold to join her date. When she left Oak stared up at his sister, Vivi.

"Isn't she married to King Cardan? Why is she spending so much time with him?" He holds his pencil tightly as he tries to start his homework. What was all this nonsense with adverbs anyway?

Viv sighed, the lives of her family members were unnecessarily complicated. "Well she is. But its more of a political agreement."

"Oh," Oak mused," I thought Jude was good at making those."

"What made you change your mind?" Vivi turns to the back of Oak's book and copies the answers for him. Making a mistake or two to make it inconsipicuous.

"Well she's here isn't she? I'm here to learn stuff and she's here because she made a mistake. Jude must not be good being tricksy as I thought."

Vivi laughs and ruffles Oak's hair. She wants him not say that around Jude or she won't let him stay up and watch tv anymore. Oak frowns.

"Then again, I don't think the King is good at being tricksy either. Every time I see him, he seems upset. Especially last Friday at paint night." Vivi freezes and stares at Oak, she asks what he means. Oak rolls his eyes, with all these adults around he figured that someone around here would a clue. "Yeah he was here. He talked to Tom and broke his phone. He asks me questions about us but mostly Jude. Sometimes he gives me gifts. He won't be happy that she wears some of them when she spends time with Mr. C."

Vivi stared out the window, she wondered if he was out there now. "Why didnt you say tell us about these secret meetings before? Did he tell you not to?"

Oak shakes his head, " I didnt think I had to. It wasn't anything important. It's not like he was a stranger." He looks at Vivi, "Can we order pizza?"

...

Tom is fumbling with his fork as Jude smiles up at him. She has a little tomato sauce from slurping her spaghetti. She's having too much fun to notice as Tom decides whether to tell her or reach forward and attempt to be romantic. He blushes at the thought and mumbles it instead. Jude dabs it away with her table cloth. Her dark hair moved to either side of her neck, soft waves that complement her olive skin.

"You look very pretty tonight." Tom confesses as the waitress refills their water glasses.

The waitress excuses herself as Jude meets his gaze, " Am I not as appealing any other night?" She's teasing. Tom's ears turn bright red and Jude can't help but revel in the satisfaction.

"Well I'm not sure, I haven't spent that many nights with you to get a general consensus."

Jude mockingly frowns, "General consensus? How many nights do you plan on spending with me?"

In a move that surprised both of them, Tom leans in, "As many as it takes."

She laughs, "Takes to what?" Her face gets a little closer.

"As many as it takes for you to want to spend more time with me." Without much thought Jude sits closer to Tom for the rest of the night. They discuss books. Some that Tom has never heard of but Jude assures him that they're foreign and hard to translate.

It's around closing time that they realize they've over stayed their welcome and leave to continue their date. Tom leads the way to find dessert, he gives Jude his elbow and she happily takes it. As Tom recites poetry from John Keats, enticing Jude with every word a dark figure closes in on them listening to every word.

The Roach had dreaded every moment of tonight, nothing had gone according to plan. Well in his defense, this plan didn't have the consent of the key part of it, the Queen of Elfame. Jude was supposed to end the night early because it had gotten too cold. A courtesy of little magic breeze that only followed then because Van followed them. The food at the table wasn't supposed to be appetizing because he had glamoured the busboy who took out the trash to go back inside and add too much garlic to their food. He even burned their bread. The waitress spilled their drinks, but since it was only water it didn't bother them. As the mortal man wooed his friend with words of promise and romance, Van shivered in disgust. The King was not going to like any of this.

"How is it going?" A voice calls from the shadows and Van turns to see the Bomb step out them. He shakes his head. "That bad?" She leans against the same tree as him to watch.

"They seem to be having a quaint little date." He sighs and takes a bottle of wine from his coat and gives it a swig. He needed something stronger than this.

"That doesn't sound so bad." She takes the bottle out of his hand and takes a drink. Van gives her a look. "What? You cant expect her to sit at home and cry. That's not the Queen we know." Liliver uses their old codename for her.

"Not cry but plot perhaps. That's what she's good at, plotting."

"How do you know she's not getting back at the King for exiling her by dating a human? You don't know Jude like I do." She juts her chin out as Jude nestles up in a little corner of the cafe. Her date brings her two steaming warm mugs topped with whip cream. Jude's face breaks into unfamiliar warmth. Liliver chokes on the wine.

"That doesn't seem like plotting to me. But I have to agree with you, she isn't idly going to sit by and be shamed by Ol' Silver Lips in front of all of Faerie. He knows that too."

"Oh yes , Ol' Silver Lips is well aware of his former seneschal's habits." A cool voice says behind them.

Van sprays wine everywhere, a couple of humans turn to see but it's too dark to make out what's happening. Van and Liliver look around, knowing that voice too well. Cardan throws an acorn from atop the tree they're leaning up against. Where he got the acorns they don't know. Liliver snickers, not even embarrassed to be overheard. She pulls down her hoodie to reveal her white misty hairy and Van grunts, annoyed.

"Your majesty, isn't it unsafe to be far from the kingdom right now? Surely your absence is a miss at some revelry." Van asks, not an ounce of cordial professional in his voice.

Cardan chuckles and throws another acorn at him. It smarts his ear and he hisses at the bite of it.

"No revelry or orgies. As far as anybody else knows I'm in the strategy room with my new advisors. They both look at him questioningly and he sighs," Its you two. Obviously. Congratulations you've been promoted"

"Does it come with a salary raise?"

"If Jude kisses that mortal it doesn't. Consider a demerit coming your way." He reaches out for his turn with the wine as Van hands it to him with a confused glower. "Oh you'll see."

As Van tries to point out the ways he tried to sabotage Tom and Jude's evening, Cardan counts. He counts the many times Tom and Jude smile at one another, when they laugh, when they bat their eyelashes at one another. Soon the bottle of Wine is gone and Van leaves to get another one from a restaurant.

.....

Jude's cheeks hurt from smiling. Whenever the tips of Tom's mouth turn up, her's just seem to follow. When she doesn't know what to say she just nods or furrows her brow. She found it difficult to behave like a typical mortal should. Maybe it was all that time she in faerie and trying to not be seen and keeping her emotions in check. Tom was the complete opposite of that experience. Every moment was narrated by his expressions, his excitement drawn back with his eyebrows or anxiousness highlighted by the twiddling of his thumbs. In a strange way it was beautiful. She observed him as a child would a newborn, in absolute awe.

Tom talked with his hands, maybe it was the coffee or the fact that he couldn't help it. He tried to describe to her the castles he visited in Europe while he was writing his thesis on William Blake. His hands echoed the open halls of the abandoned fortresses and the decaying moss covered stone that held it together. He tried to bring to life his stagnant memories of the open vastness of wilderness that enveloped around it. He said all this hoping to impress her but instead got swept up in reminisces of it all. Little did he know how acquainted she was castles and dwellings of this kind but instead of solitude she was met with a thriving brilliance the like he's never seen. The kind of normalcy that Jude had lived up until this point was stuff of nightmare and fantasy, the kind of scenery that filled up his books and poetry.

When Tom talked of things that excited him, it merely reminded Jude of the fire she once had. Of the now muted hunger that she once carried in her belly. For a moment she got experience that bit of excitement once again.

Tom looks at the clock and her eyes follow, it's late. He has to teach class in the morning, Jude understands and gets up. Tom asks if he could walk her home, she nods. As they walk their hands and elbows bump against each other. Jude clears her throat at the awkwardness and brings her cold hands together to make them warm. Tom, in unlikely bold move, takes them and runs them against his for friction and warmth. Jude thanks him and doesn't let go of his hand as he walks her home.

At the foot of the steps near her front door, he bids her good night. He looks at her, with a question in his eyes and she reaches up on tiptoes to kiss him.

At that very moment, somewhere in the shadows. Cardan Greenbriar's heart broke.